Tari Travels, W34861 Wisconsin Avenue, Okauchee, WI (2026)

Luxury Travel Advisor | Mexico • Caribbean • Europe ✈️
From Honeymoons & Destination Weddings to Adults-Only retreats & Family adventures.
📧Book with me [email protected] or 262.443.9439

06/02/2026

BARCELONA: THE GREAT TAXI STRIKE (THAT WASN'T A TAXI STRIKE) 🤣🚖

Hello from Barcelona!

You may have noticed we missed our first day of blogging.

There was a very good reason for that.

Actually...

There were ten pieces of luggage, six travelers, and a whole lot of poor planning. 😂

You see, before we could leave the Valiant Lady, we had to repack everything.

What was clean?

What was dirty?

What was wearable?

What had already appeared in too many Facebook pictures?

What needed to be saved for Spain?

This quickly evolved from packing into a full-scale strategic operation.

By the time we finished, there simply wasn't time to write.

I wasn't worried.

Once we got off the ship, it was only a short ride to our hotel, the Kimpton Vividora.

Surely I'd have plenty of time to write after we checked in.

Surely. 🤣

Disembarkation itself was surprisingly smooth.

Thousands of people.

Long lines.

But everything moved efficiently until we reached the final exit where the crowd split in two.

One line stretched hundreds of people deep.

The taxi line.

The other led toward pre-arranged transportation, private cars, Uber and FreeNow pickups.

Fresh off our miraculous Ibiza taxi success, the six of us confidently decided we were far too smart to stand in the taxi line.

We marched directly out to the street.

I proudly opened my Uber app.

Ride confirmed.

Perfect.

Then...

DING.

Your driver has canceled.

Searching for a new driver.

DING.

Ride confirmed.

DING.

Driver canceled.

DING.

Ride confirmed.

DING.

Driver canceled.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Eventually it became clear:

1. No driver wanted to enter the congestion surrounding the cruise port.

2. No driver wanted to navigate whatever madness was occurring downtown.

3. No driver was interested in a fare that was only 1.678 miles long.

So we made a group decision.

Let's walk away from the port.

Surely it would be easier to find transportation elsewhere.

Famous last words. 😂

We reached a nearby square and gathered beneath the only patch of shade we could find.

The sun was already cooking us.

Eight roller bags.

Multiple backpacks.

Six increasingly sweaty travelers.

I tried Uber again.

Ride confirmed.

Canceled.

Ride confirmed.

Canceled.

Larry looked at Google Maps.

"It's only an 18-minute walk."

Dave stared at him.

The rest of us stared at him.

Then we started walking.

Ten minutes later...

"How far now?" Dave asked.

Larry checked his phone.

"Sixteen minutes."

"What do you mean sixteen minutes?!"

Dave protested.

"It was eighteen minutes ten minutes ago!"

At this point, Aimee had already accepted our fate.

"This is silly," she said.

And promptly marched off ahead of us.

Eventually we all realized no taxi was coming.

No Uber was coming.

No rescue was coming.

This walk was our destiny.

So off we went.

Fortunately, Barcelona is a pretty good place to be stranded.

Along the way we admired incredible architecture.

Street performers.

Hidden plazas.

And in Jill's case...

Future shopping opportunities.

Lots and lots of future shopping opportunities. 😂

Eventually our route carried us into Barcelona's Gothic Quarter.

The wide boulevards disappeared.

The streets narrowed.

Stone buildings rose on both sides.

Tiny balconies hung overhead.

Winding alleyways twisted in every direction.

The streets felt like something out of a medieval movie set.

Every corner revealed another hidden café, boutique shop, ancient doorway or tucked-away square.

It was beautiful.

It was charming.

And it was also incredibly hot when dragging luggage. 🤣

Eventually, sweaty but still in good spirits, we arrived at the Kimpton Vividora.

We were immediately greeted with ice-cold water.

And champagne.

Because apparently Europe believes every problem can be solved with champagne.

Honestly?

They're not wrong. 🍾😂

When we explained our transportation disaster, the receptionist smiled knowingly.

Apparently there was a major bicycle race happening throughout the city.

Roads were closed.

Traffic was rerouted.

And our transportation challenges were completely normal.

Good to know.

A little late.

But good to know.

After checking in, we decided it was time for our first authentic Barcelona tapas experience.

After wandering somewhat aimlessly through the city, we stumbled upon Prado de Flores.

The hostess led us upstairs to a beautiful round table for six.

Menus arrived.

Then...

Nothing.

Minutes passed.

More minutes passed.

Nobody else was seated upstairs.

As Americans, we immediately assumed the service was terrible.

As Europeans would later remind us...

They're simply not in a hurry. 😂

Eventually our server appeared and we proceeded to order enough food to feed a small village.

Croquetas.

Brie.

Asparagus.

Garlic and tomato bread.

Chicken skewers.

Manchego cheese.

And for safety purposes...

A hamburger.

Because international culinary bravery has limits.

After taking our order, the waitress looked at us curiously.

"You may want a larger table."

We politely accepted her advice.

Then the food arrived.

And suddenly her suggestion made perfect sense.

The quantity was absolutely ridiculous.

Plates covered every available inch of table space.

The presentation was beautiful.

Fresh flowers garnished many of the dishes and cocktails.

And best of all?

Everything was delicious.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

By the end of lunch nobody was hungry.

Nobody could move.

And everyone was happy.

Exhausted from our unexpected hike across Barcelona, we decided to retreat to the rooftop pool and bar at the hotel.

Swimming suits on.

Poolside chairs secured.

Vacation mode activated.

Jill, Larry and I found perfect seats along the edge of the pool.

Dave immediately wandered off to the bar.

Naturally, Larry followed.

The original plan was simple.

A casual afternoon cocktail.

Unfortunately the rooftop bar did not carry Captain Morgan.

This created a crisis.

Fortunately Kraken Spiced Rum was available.

Crisis solved.

For approximately ten minutes.

Then Dave decided Kraken wasn't fancy enough.

Soon he and Larry were ordering Ron Zacapa Centenario Royal Guatemalan Rum.

At roughly fifty euros a shot.

Because apparently retirement planning had also gone on vacation. 😂

I stuck with Cava.

Jill experimented briefly before returning to her trusted vodka soda with pineapple.

Jeff and Aimee were hydrating through methods I can no longer accurately recall.

At some point the manager politely informed us that our bill needed to be settled.

Apparently rooftop guests don't normally accumulate tabs large enough to require intervention.

Coincidentally, Dave disappeared right about then.

Leaving Larry holding the check.

Excellent timing, Dave. 🤣

Feeling slightly kicked out, we retreated to our rooms, freshened up, and headed back into the city.

A few blocks later we found ourselves in the middle of one of Barcelona's biggest food events:

Tast a la Rambla.

A four-day gastronomic festival featuring more than forty of the city's top restaurants and pastry chefs.

Larry looked at me.

Completely bewildered.

"How can you people keep eating?"

"I'm still full from lunch."

A reasonable observation.

Yet somehow there we were.

Sampling.

Nibbling.

Tasting.

Some incredible.

Some unusual.

Some memorable for reasons that had nothing to do with flavor. 😂

The only reason we eventually left was because the festival was closing for the evening.

Otherwise, we might still be there.

Back onto the streets we went in search of one final drink.

Eventually we passed a place called Amaren.

Before we knew what was happening, a sharply dressed maître d' adorned in Gucci had somehow convinced—or perhaps gently kidnapped—the entire group into taking a table.

One final cocktail.

One final laugh.

One final toast to another incredible day.

Not exactly the day we planned.

But as we've learned repeatedly on this trip...

Those usually end up being the best ones.

Tomorrow...

Barcelona continues.❤️

05/31/2026

IBIZA RECOVERY DAY: HOW ONE DRINK BECAME AN ENTIRE DAY 🤣☀️🍹

Good Morning from Ibiza.

Or more accurately...

Good Afternoon.

As you might imagine, we slept in a bit after Calvin Harris.

When we finally woke up and started writing yesterday's blog, we fully intended to head back ashore and explore some of the non-clubbing side of Ibiza.

Historic streets.

Marinas.

Scenic overlooks.

Culture.

You know...

Responsible tourist things.

Then around noon, Aimee sent a text.

Attached was a photo of something none of us had seen all week.

Empty lounge chairs.

Not one.

Not two.

An entire row.

On this ship, that photo was basically the equivalent of spotting Bigfoot riding a unicorn. 😂

There hadn't been a pool chair available since the day we boarded.

Apparently all the pool-party people had migrated ashore to one of Ibiza's famous beach clubs, leaving the ship unusually peaceful.

Within minutes our sightseeing plans began crumbling.

"Wow..." I said.

"Should we go?"

Larry studied the photo.

"We should absolutely go."

Five minutes later we were putting on swimsuits.

Ten minutes later we were heading toward the pool deck.

Twenty minutes later we arrived to find Aimee and Jeff guarding two lounge chairs like Secret Service agents protecting national treasures. 😂

Aimee texted:

"We got two lounges for Larry and Tari saved."

Then she texted Dave and Jill:

"What about you guys?"

The response came back almost immediately.

"Not for the Bartmans. We're staying in the cabin. We need a nap."

Larry looked at me.

"Nap?"

Pause.

"Didn't they just get up?" 🤣

Oh well.

Down to the pool we went.

This ship is beautiful when there aren't ten thousand people occupying every square inch of available space.

For the first time all week, you could actually see the pool.

You could hear the music.

You could walk without accidentally bumping into six strangers and a margarita.

It was glorious.

Naturally, it was time for a drink.

One of the benefits of a quiet pool deck is there was no waiting for a bartender.

Dirty Captain for Larry.

Tequila and soda for me.

Vacation perfection. 🍹☀️

No more than five minutes passed before Larry looked down at his empty glass.

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"That went down really easy."

I knew exactly where this was headed.

"Let's have one more," he said.

"And then we'll go do a little sightseeing."

A completely reasonable plan.

In theory. 😂

One more turned into...

Well...

Several more.

Then a few more after that.

At some point we completely lost track.

The sun was shining.

The chairs were comfortable.

The drinks were cold.

The company was great.

And suddenly...

It was 5pm.

Oops. 🤣

Apparently our grand exploration of Ibiza's historic treasures had been reduced to exploring the drink menu.

Oh well.

After the previous night's festivities, maybe that was exactly what we needed.

Besides, everyone could use a little sunshine.

Especially Jeff.

Remember how translucent white he was a few days ago?

Well...

Mission accomplished.

The man had officially advanced to lobster red. 🦞☀️😂

Eventually we realized dinner was approaching.

Originally we had reservations at Test Kitchen.

For those unfamiliar, Test Kitchen is Virgin's experimental restaurant where chefs create artistic dishes and explain every ingredient like they're presenting a doctoral thesis.

Normally we'd be all in.

Tonight?

Not a chance.

Nobody felt like cooking.

Nobody felt like being experimented on.

Nobody felt like trying food that arrived looking like a science project.

So we collectively pulled the plug and moved our reservation to Gunbae, Virgin's Korean BBQ restaurant.

Immediately we knew we made the right decision.

Not only was the food better suited for our current state of recovery, but the restaurant had some of the most beautiful views we've seen from anywhere on the ship.

In fact, the view from the men's room was so spectacular that Larry felt compelled to take a picture.

Imagine this:

Beautiful Ibiza coastline.

Crystal blue water.

Golden evening light.

And directly in the foreground...

Several complete strangers standing at sleek black granite urinals. 🤣

Some photos simply belong in the family archives.

The evening was shaping up perfectly.

Beautiful views.

Great friends.

Relaxed atmosphere.

Then our waiter arrived.

And everything changed.

Apparently at Gunbae, dinner starts with an icebreaker game called 3-6-9, also known as Sam Yuk Gu.

Nobody asked us if we wanted to play.

Nobody offered alternatives.

Participation was apparently mandatory. 😂

The rules were simple.

Count around the table.

Whenever a number contains a 3, 6, or 9, you clap instead of saying the number.

Sounds easy.

It isn't.

Within seconds our table dissolved into chaos.

Clapping.

Yelling.

Laughing.

Confusion.

And repeatedly shouting:

"GUNBAE!"

Over and over again.

The loser of each round had to drink a shot of Soju.

Don't ask me exactly what Soju is.

All I know is people were drinking it.

Then the winner had to drink one too.

Which seemed like a very questionable reward system.

Honestly, the whole thing felt suspiciously designed to ensure everybody drank. 🤣

After multiple rounds, countless mistakes, and enough laughter to make our sides hurt, the food started arriving.

And by food...

I mean ALL the food.

Because naturally Aimee ordered one of everything.

Again. 😂

Appetizers covered the table.

Then the grills fired up in the middle of our table and dinner became a full-contact sport.

Meat.

Vegetables.

Sauces.

Things we recognized.

Things we didn't recognize.

Some dishes were fantastic.

Others...

Let's just say they'll remain part of the cultural experience. 😆

By the end of dinner we had reached an important conclusion.

We still had Sailor Loot.

We still had Bar Tab.

And tomorrow was our final morning aboard the Valiant Lady.

There was only one responsible thing left to do.

Go to the casino.

Naturally. 🎰😂

What made the evening even better was that somehow...

ALL THREE COUPLES WON.

Not just at the tables and machines.

But because of the time we spent together.

The laughter.

The stories.

The adventures.

The wrong turns.

The cocktails.

The shopping.

The memories.

As we walked back toward our cabins for our final night aboard the ship, I found myself feeling grateful.

Grateful for the places.

Grateful for the experiences.

But mostly grateful for the people.

Because at the end of the day, that's what makes a trip unforgettable.

Tomorrow...

Barcelona.❤️

05/30/2026

IBIZA: WE SURVIVED. BARELY. 🤣🍾🎶

You know you're getting older when your biggest accomplishment in Ibiza isn't making it to the party...

It's surviving it.

All day long we were preparing ourselves for Ibiza.

Not physically.

Mentally. 😂

After witnessing the absolute insanity of Scarlet Night the evening before, we all agreed that if we were going to survive Calvin Harris opening night at Ushuaïa (the world's number one open-air daytime club and luxury, adults-only hotel) we needed to pace ourselves.

No cocktails.

No day drinking.

No "just one quick drink."

This was serious business.

Somehow we spent the entire day avoiding alcohol and conserving energy for what everyone kept assuring us would be one of the biggest parties of our lives.

We agreed to meet at the On The Rocks bar at 6 PM.

Now Virgin Voyages has this really cool feature in their app.

You open the app.

Shake your phone three times.

And like magic...

A bottle of Moët & Chandon appears wherever you are on the ship.

I'm not making this up.

It's basically Uber Eats for champagne. 🍾😂

The moment Larry and I got to the bar, I pulled out my phone.

Shake.

Shake.

Shake.

And just like that...

The "No Cocktail Rule" was officially over.

A few minutes later we were raising champagne glasses and promising each other that, as mature adults, we would be making "reasonable" decisions.

That illusion didn't last long. 🤣

Thanks to the Bartman's deciding that "reasonable" wasn't nearly exciting enough, the six of us found ourselves at opening night with Calvin Harris at Ushuaïa.

Not nearby.

Not in the general area.

But with a Superior Walk-Out Suite.

And bottle service.

Because apparently moderation wasn't invited to Ibiza.

Calvin Harris was incredible.

The crowd was electric.

The energy was unlike anything I've ever experienced.

Then, just when we thought the night was getting started, reality arrived wearing black shirts and earpieces.

When Calvin Harris wrapped up at exactly 11:00 PM, nobody was ready to call it a night.

The plan was simple.

Finish our drinks.

Head up to the rooftop bar.

Continue making questionable vacation decisions.

We poured another round and settled in on the patio to watch the parade of thousands of people streaming past our suite.

That's when several security guards decided to join the party.

Uninvited.

They stepped onto our patio and informed us that it was time to leave.

Immediately.

Naturally, I attempted to negotiate.

"You don't understand," I explained. "We're guests of the Bartman's. They're registered to this suite."

The response was less than encouraging.

"They can stay."

Pause.

"But the four of you have to leave. Now."

Apparently my powers of persuasion have limits.

As I continued presenting what I believed was a very reasonable argument, one of the security guards grabbed Larry's arm and pulled him out of the suite.

At that point Larry had heard enough.

Without another word, he announced he was leaving and marched off in search of a taxi.

Fortunately, Aimee chased him down and convinced him to come back before he accidentally started a new life somewhere else in Ibiza.

Reluctantly, Larry returned.

But by then it felt like the Farrells' Ibiza adventure had reached its final chapter.

So we headed for the taxi stand.

Which looked like it contained approximately every person currently living on the island.

Hundreds of people.

One giant line.

And the very real possibility that we would still be standing there for hours.

Then, like a chariot sent directly from vacation heaven, a taxi suddenly pulled up right in front of us.

Not at the end of the line.

Not somewhere nearby.

Right in front of us.

A few minutes later we were back on the ship, sitting at On The Rocks, exactly where this whole adventure had started.

As I write this, I have absolutely no idea where Dave, Jill, Jeff, and Aimee ended up after we left.

But I have a sneaking suspicion they did not make it back to bed nearly as early as Larry and I did. 😂

And this morning?

Let's just say the energy shifted considerably. 😆

Today will become less about conquering Ibiza and more about recovering from Ibiza.

The good news is that Ibiza has another side that most people never see because they're sleeping until noon.

Beyond the DJs and beach clubs are stunning turquoise waters, beautiful marinas, charming old streets, and some of the most breathtaking views in the Mediterranean.

So while our younger selves might have spent today chasing another party, our current selves are leaning heavily into sightseeing, suntanning, cocktails, and strategic hydration.

Growth. 😂

As I sit here looking out at the yachts, the crystal-blue water, and one of the most beautiful islands in Spain, I'm reminded that travel isn't just about checking off destinations.

It's about the stories.

And trust me...

The story of six great friends surviving Calvin Harris in Ibiza is one we'll be telling for a very long time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have important recovery activities planned.

Possibly a cocktail.

Definitely a nap.

🍾🎶🌴

05/29/2026

We Came to Cannes for Croissants...and Left in Matching Scarlet Tuxedos 🤣🍾

What a wonderful, uneventful morning.

No getting lost.

No missed breakfasts.

No accidental tours of crew-only areas.

Just a simple plan:

Get to the tender line by 9am and head into Cannes.

Easy, right?

Of course not.

We were still 10 minutes late.

Apparently it takes a surprising amount of time to assemble the perfect outfit for a city where everyone looks like they just stepped out of a yacht brochure. 😂

Miraculously, the rest of our group was actually on time and already at the front of the tender line. After checking in and skipping past people to get to them (which did NOT make the people waiting particularly happy), we boarded one of the coolest tenders I've ever seen.

Picture this:

Behind us sat the sleek, silver-and-red Valiant Lady floating in the Mediterranean like some futuristic luxury spaceship.

In front of us was Cannes.

Palm trees.

Luxury hotels.

White sand beaches.

Rows of mega yachts.

Sunlight bouncing off the water.

And our tender?

It looked like a scarlet-red submarine and a jet boat had a baby. 🚤❤️

Within minutes we were stepping onto the French Riviera.

And we had absolutely no plan.

We simply started walking along Boulevard de la Croisette, hugging the seaside so we could admire the yachts.

And when I say yachts...

I mean floating mansions.

Each one bigger than the last.

At one point we watched a helicopter lift off directly from one of them.

Monaco perhaps?

Who knows.

Good for them.

I was more concerned with finding a chocolate croissant because we had intentionally skipped breakfast. 😂

We passed café after café after café.

"Why aren't we stopping?" Larry finally asked.

Excellent question.

Unfortunately our first stop wasn't for breakfast.

It was McDonald's.

Not because anyone wanted food.

Because Aimee wanted to study the French menu.

"Isn't it interesting to see how different McDonald's is in other countries?"

Larry stared blankly.

"Who cares about a Croque McDo?" he muttered. 🤣

Eventually we found a café called New York, New York.

Why we traveled all the way to France to eat breakfast at a place named after Manhattan remains unclear.

But we sat down anyway.

Larry and I immediately ordered cappuccinos.

The rest of the group spent the next several minutes translating the menu with Google.

Coffee.

Rosé.

Croissants.

How hard can this be?

Apparently very hard.

I ordered a chocolate croissant.

Jeff and Aimee followed suit.

Larry played it safe with avocado toast.

Then came Dave.

He ordered something called Fromage Blanc because he was convinced it was cottage cheese.

He also ordered a juice called "Gold."

Turmeric.

Ginger.

Healthy-looking.

I ordered one too.

Jill ordered something with a sophisticated French name that ultimately translated to:

Large loaf of bread. 😂

Thirty minutes later the food arrived.

Europe definitely operates on its own schedule.

Immediately everyone noticed Dave staring suspiciously at the white substance in his bowl.

He cautiously took a bite.

The reaction was instant.

His face twisted in ways I didn't know were medically possible.

"This isn't cottage cheese!"

The entire table erupted.

Tears.

Laughter.

Chaos.

Trying to recover, Dave grabbed his Gold juice and took a huge drink.

Unfortunately...

Round Two.

Another gasp.

Another face.

Another table-wide meltdown. 🤣

"Jill...give me some bread."

At this point he was in full survival mode.

Personally? I liked the juice.

After breakfast and several trips to the restroom courtesy of my ongoing European weight-loss program 😆, we paid the bill and noticed something fascinating.

The traffic-control bollards in the street would automatically rise and lower to regulate traffic.

We immediately wondered:

"What happens if someone is standing on one when it pops up?"

Literally moments later...

A woman stepped directly onto one.

Up it came.

Down she went.

Thankfully she was fine.

But the timing was unbelievable.

Next stop:

The famous Cannes Film Festival stairs.

Unfortunately they were still blocked off following the festival that had just wrapped up.

So no pretending to be movie stars for us.

Instead we continued into the luxury shopping district.

Dior.

Chanel.

Saint Laurent.

Just when Larry thought the shopping was finally over...

There it was.

Louis Vuitton.

Jill still needed to find her dream purse.

Champagne was being served while customers shopped.

A brilliant strategy designed to separate people from large amounts of money.

Eventually Jill found it.

The perfect black purse.

"Tari, what do you think?"

"It's perfect," I said.

"Rockstar and bougie at the same time…totally you."

Sold.

With Jill's conquest complete, we headed toward the beach.

At this point, Larry had survived approximately 17 stores and was operating solely on hope and determination. 😂

Originally I had reservations at La Môme Plage.

Then they requested a €600 deposit for lunch.

Hard pass.

Instead, we wandered next door to Mademoiselle Gray Plage Barrière.

Best decision of the day.

As we approached, we spotted the PERFECT table.

Shaded.

Close to the beach.

Perfect view of the water.

Naturally, we wanted that one.

The waiter approached and asked if we planned on having lunch.

"No, just drinks," we replied.

He looked at our group, looked at the table, looked back at us and politely explained that table was reserved for guests having a "proper lunch."

Now normally I have a pretty good success rate at getting my way.

Not today. 😂

Fortunately, he escorted us to another table only a few feet farther back that was equally beautiful.

Very acceptable.

The moment we sat down, the entire mood changed.

Soft music floated through the air.

The Mediterranean sparkled in front of us.

The sea breeze rolled across the beach.

People lounged under umbrellas.

The pace slowed instantly.

This was exactly why people come to the French Riviera.

Rosé for Larry, Aimee and me.

Vodka for Jill.

A blonde beer for Jeff.

And a P**n Star Martini for Dave.

Apparently after helping purchase Jill's new purse, Dave felt he had earned it. 😂

The waiter returned carrying beautiful bowls of marinated olives and these amazing crispy bread crackers that immediately disappeared.

Then Dave's P**n Star Martini arrived.

Now if you've never seen one before, it's confusing.

The martini arrived in a traditional martini glass.

But next to it sat a shot glass filled with vodka.

Dave stared at it.

Stared some more.

Then finally asked:

"How exactly am I supposed to drink this?"

The waiter explained that he preferred sipping the vodka and chasing it with the martini.

Dave shrugged and gave it a shot.

After the Fromage Blanc and Gold Juice incident earlier in the day, we were all bracing ourselves for another dramatic reaction.

Thankfully...

This one was a winner. 😂

Meanwhile Jeff and Dave decided they were actually hungry after all.

Remember, Dave's breakfast had essentially been a traumatic experience and Jeff is always hungry.

So they ordered a Chicken Caesar Salad and chicken skewers.

When the salad arrived, it was enormous.

Honestly, it was large enough for the entire table.

The food was fantastic.

The wine was flowing.

The service was impeccable.

The music sounded like a luxury spa playlist.

And the atmosphere was pure relaxation.

No schedules.

No tours.

No shopping.

No transportation drama.

Just friends sitting along the French Riviera enjoying one of those moments you wish you could bottle up and take home.

Honestly, if someone asked me what Cannes felt like...

It wasn't the yachts.

It wasn't the shopping.

It wasn't the luxury hotels.

It was that table.

Friends.

Rosé.

Mediterranean views.

Nowhere to be.

Nothing to do.

Perfect.

Eventually we wandered back through town, stopped for one final bottle of rosé at a little café with red checkered tablecloths...

Apparently we were missing Italy already.

Then it was back to the ship.

Time to rest.

Because tonight was Scarlet Night.

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

4:30pm alarm.

"What the heck?" Larry asked.

"I thought the party starts at 9."

"Silly boy," I replied.

"We have the FREE champagne party first." 🍾

And so it began.

Champagne.

Music.

Photos.

More champagne.

Then everyone disappeared to transform into Scarlet Night mode.

The ladies looked absolutely stunning in beautiful scarlet dresses.

The guys?

Matching scarlet paisley tuxedo jackets.

Somehow we looked like a traveling casino act. 😂

The night began in the casino.

There went another small portion of my children's inheritance.

Then we headed toward the pool deck.

And WOW.

Virgin absolutely understands how to throw a party.

Bands.

Dancers.

Pop-up performances.

Music everywhere.

Every hallway felt alive.

Then we finally reached the main event.

The entire pool deck had been transformed into an underwater fantasy world glowing red beneath the night sky.

A giant octopus towered over the crowd blowing colored smoke and mist.

The DJ was crushing it.

People danced everywhere.

Some were jumping into the pool fully clothed.

Absolute madness.

Beautiful madness.

Around 11pm Larry finally looked at me and said:

"I love you...but it's time for me to go back to the cabin."

Translation: Larry had reached his maximum allowable dosage of dancing, crowds, and human interaction. 🤣

Honestly?

Making it to 11pm was a victory for Larry. 😂

The rest of us continued the adventure with a stop at every bar possible before eventually ending up back in the casino.

Some winning.

Some losing.

A lot of laughing.

And eventually another unforgettable day came to an end.

Tomorrow:

IBIZA. 🎶☀️🍹

05/28/2026

Sea Day, Sweat & Shipboard Debauchery: Jeff Turns 55 🚢🎰🍹

Good Morning from somewhere in the Mediterranean. ☀️🚢

Today’s blog is going to be shorter for 2 reasons:

1. Yesterday was our ONLY sea day between Amalfi and today’s destination — Cannes, France — and compared to the chaos of the last several days, we basically did…nothing.

2. We have to get off this ship at 9am to tender into Cannes and I am NOT missing breakfast again. 😂

The day started with me enthusiastically announcing:
“LET’S GO!”

“Go where?” Larry replied suspiciously.

“We have a 9am spa appointment. Remember? The one I booked when I dragged you through the spa tour on Day 1.”

“NO WAY,” he immediately responded.
“You go without me. I’m not steaming, freezing in ice water, and rubbing mud all over myself at 9 o’clock in the morning.”

Honestly?
Fair. 😂

So instead of canceling, I called the spa and moved our 3-hour treatment to later in the cruise.

“THANK YOU,” Larry replied with genuine relief.

And honestly…
doing absolutely NOTHING for a few hours sounded amazing.

For about two hours. 😆

Apparently the boredom finally got to Larry because suddenly he announced:
“Let’s go workout.”

“A little pickleball first and THEN the gym,” I said.

Now mind you…
there is exactly ONE pickleball court on this entire ship.

And it’s basically a tiny floating version of a real court.

When we got there, it felt exactly like home:
The court was packed and approximately 100 obsessed people were standing around waiting to play.

“This game makes people CRAZY,” Larry proclaimed.
“Who waits in line to play pickleball on a non-regulation court floating in the middle of the ocean?”

I looked at him with eyes that clearly said:
“I would.” 😂

“Well not me,” he said as he immediately bolted toward the gym.

After watching four extremely sweaty, overly competitive men nearly kill each other over a kitchen-line dispute, I decided maybe pickleball could wait for me too. 😆

So off to the gym I went.

Now the gym flanks the pool deck:
• cardio machines on one side
• weights on the other

And the FIRST thing I noticed?

Every chair.
Every lounger.
Every stool.
Every inch of seating anywhere on the pool deck…

Taken.

Come on people…
it’s not even NOON yet. 😂

There was absolutely NO chance we were getting pool chairs today.

And honestly?
Even if we did, it wouldn’t have been relaxing anyway because the DJ was absolutely hammering music across the pool deck:
PUMP.
PUMP.
PUMP. 🔊🤣

I finally made it into the gym and spotted Larry among the weights.

Now listen…
Larry is strong and in fantastic shape.

But standing among these muscle-bound cruise beefcakes?

He looked like an action figure somebody accidentally left in the wrong toy box. 😂💪

I headed toward the less intimidating weight machines and immediately noticed something horrifying:

Nobody wipes down the equipment.

Sweat everywhere.

Machines glistening.

Humidity levels approaching rainforest conditions.

I’m not high maintenance…
but absolutely not. 🤢

I texted Larry:
“I’m leaving.”

When he got back to the cabin, we compared notes and he was equally disgusted.

But what really got him were the women tossing around 50-pound dumbbells like they were juggling marshmallows.

“WHO are these superwomen?” he asked. 😂

After getting cleaned up — and yes, this was the FIRST time we’d worn swimsuits the entire trip — we headed off to meet the group.

Which immediately turned into another navigation disaster.

“Wait…
you can’t get to the galley from here.”

“Didn’t you say you knew where you were going?” Larry asked sarcastically.

Apparently to get there we needed:
• elevator to 7
• walk midship
• elevator back to 15
• walk aft

At this point even Google Maps would’ve given up on this ship. 🤣

Then…
DING.

Message from Aimee:
“Meet us on 7 aft where we were last night.”

Larry stared at me and deadpanned:
“That’s where we were 20 minutes ago.”

Eventually we found them.

Larry immediately gave birthday boy Jeff a huge hug followed by five birthday spankings.

“Only 50 more to go!” he proudly proclaimed.

Jeff did not appear emotionally prepared for this interaction. 😂

Apparently birthday celebrations had continued well after we went to bed the night before because Jeff looked a little…
weathered.

The waiter arrived for drinks and Aimee confidently announced:
“You can order whatever you want. I already ordered one of everything.”

Perfect.

Dirty Captain for Larry.
Don Julio Reposado and soda with lime for me.

“We’re not in Italy anymore,” I announced proudly. 😂

“Come on Jeff,” Larry encouraged.
“Join Team Captain.”

And surprisingly…
he did.

Lunch arrived:
• eggplant puree with pickled vegetables
• octopus
• pomegranate hummus

Honestly?
Not bad.

But at this point I would’ve traded all of it for a cheeseburger. 😂

After lunch we somehow secured six chairs together around the railing.

Now these wooden chairs looked beautiful…

…but they sat approximately 4 inches off the ground and felt like medieval punishment devices.

You needed roughly 17 towels underneath you just to avoid bruising your tailbone. 🤣

Still…
where else were we finding six seats together?

Eventually Dave and Jill joined us.

Jill looked like she stepped directly out of a luxury resort catalog.

Designer coverup.
Perfect swimsuit.
Hair flawless.

Dave arrived proudly wearing:
• a Buc-ee’s gas station hat
• and a T-shirt reading:
“May the bridges I burn light the way.”

Honestly?

Perfect couple energy. 😂

Then came the shirt removal moment.

And WOW.

Poor Jeff.

Clearly the tanning beds were NOT part of his pre-Europe preparation.

I have honestly never seen skin that color before.

The man looked translucent. 🤣☀️

After a couple hours of sun and several more drinks, we finally ventured toward the main pool deck.

The place was absolute chaos.

Music pounding.
People dancing.
Drinks flying.
Pool packed.

Fortunately we found seats above the madness near a bar where we could safely observe the debauchery without directly participating in it.

Also…

Can we discuss the color of that pool water?

Still…
everyone down there looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Good for them.
We preferred spectator status.

Eventually it was time to head back and get ready for dinner.

Jeff picked Mexican.

Larry and I quickly showered and headed to the bar because we both knew:
If we sat down in the room first…
we were NEVER getting back up.

After ordering another tequila soda, I immediately decided the gentleman next to me needed a shower too…

…and dumped my drink all over him. 😳😂

Crew members descended upon our area like a NASCAR pit crew while I apologized profusely.

Mortifying.

“Can I please have another Don Julio Reposado and soda?” I asked approximately 12 seconds later.

Apparently my embarrassment recovery time is excellent. 🤣

Eventually everyone arrived and we headed into dinner where naturally our group decided the best strategy was:

“One of everything.”

Apps.
Drinks.
Entrées.
More drinks.
Desserts.
Birthday cake.

Everything.

At some point during Jeff’s birthday celebration, Larry and I launched into the traditional Farrell Family Birthday Song:

“Birthdays come but once a year,
So we send the message clear,
Happy Birthday Jeffrey dear,
Happy Birthday until next year!”

The surrounding tables stared at us in complete silence.

Honestly?
It was either a mic drop moment…

…or they thought we’d escaped from somewhere. 😂

After dinner:
• Dave & Jill headed to the smoking lounge
• Aimee disappeared into the night
• Larry kissed me goodnight and wisely headed back to the cabin
• and somehow I ended up wandering the ship with birthday boy Jeff looking for everyone else.

Eventually we found Aimee at a comedy/variety show in The Red Room.

Honestly?
It was hilarious.

And after the amount of food we consumed, laughing was medically necessary. 😂

On the way out I stopped at the candy store to buy Larry cherry Twizzlers as a peace offering because I had decided…

…I was absolutely going gambling.

Naturally. 🎰

Eventually everyone disappeared except Jill and me.

So off to the casino we went where I generously made a charitable donation to Virgin Voyages Casino Operations.

You’re welcome. 😂

After a couple hours of gambling and really great conversation with Jill, I finally returned to the cabin.

And just as I got into bed…

I felt it.

The shaking.

The exact ship shaking Larry had tried to wake me up for the last two nights.

So naturally I leaned over and whispered:

“Honey…
do you feel that shaking?”

Payback’s a bitch. 🤣🚢

Tomorrow:
Cannes, France. 🇫🇷🥂

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