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by Barbara Yakimchuk
Three Years At Sea: Life Aboard a Cruise Ship
12 Dec 2025
It goes by many names — “forever cruises”, “residential cruising”, even “serial cruising” — but they all describe the same phenomenon: people choosing to live at sea. Not for 10–15 days, but for months, sometimes even years.
Where does this trend come from? No one can say for certain. Perhaps it is the rise of remote workers who can take their office anywhere. Perhaps it is a shift in mindset: the idea that life shouldn’t just be endured but actually lived. Or maybe it is a new generation of retirees who are no longer saving simply for the sake of it, but allowing themselves to enjoy the world while they can.
Whatever the reason, the fact remains: more and more people are choosing to make a cruise ship their home. And I spoke to one of them — a young artist, Anastasiia, who performs on board for the guests. So if the idea has already piqued your curiosity and you want to know what life at sea really feels like, here she is — sharing a daily routine that is anything but ordinary.
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Working on the liner: The benefits and the challenges
I have been working on the ship for about two and a half years, including 19 months spent on board without a single break. The system is simple: you sign a contract, complete it, and then decide for yourself how long you want to stay on land before returning. There are no strict rules — most of us have similar contract lengths, with the main difference being the length of our break. Mine were two months the first time and four the second.
I work on board as an aqua-show performer. My background is in synchronised swimming, but in our show I also dance, do aerial work, play drums, and perform a whole range of things that go far beyond my original sport.
Accommodation and food are included, and we don’t pay for any basics — water, electricity or utilities. In theory, you could spend an entire year without paying a single dollar, so yes, the salary is more than enough. That said, most of us still spend money on meals out, drinks, or coffees in the crew café. If you aren't careful, you can go through your whole salary quite easily, but overall, with your essentials covered, you are very comfortable in terms of finance.
The challenging part is the constant social environment. It is surprisingly difficult to find time alone. Living on a ship means living in a contained world where you know everyone, and on your way to work, to eat, or to the gym, you bump into people every single time. It can be emotionally draining. And because it is an American company, friendliness is literally part of the job description — we have to smile, be warm, be open with everyone. As performers, our energy is already stretched from what we give on stage, so afterwards you crave solitude — and it is the one thing that is genuinely hard to get.
Another challenge is that we don’t get days off. Not one. What we do have, occasionally, are free evenings, and on those we go out for dinner, watch other casts perform — the ice cast, the theatre cast — or simply stay in our cabins, watch a film, and enjoy the rare quiet.
I also made my life even busier by enrolling in two courses when I first joined the ship, and I work as an online maths tutor. So all my free time goes into studying or teaching.
Life on the ocean liner: What a usual day looks like
There is no such thing as a “typical” day. Nothing runs on a fixed timetable. The only constants are our show days and parade days — and even those can change at a moment’s notice. If the ship is rocking, we can’t perform because I work in a water show; if the pool has technical issues, the show is cancelled. Sometimes we are called in for emergency rehearsals; sometimes something is cancelled minutes before it starts. You adapt quickly.
Life also varies between port days and sea days. For me, the real difference is whether I can get mobile signal or Wi-Fi. At sea, there is none unless you pay — and it is expensive — so I sometimes prefer to stay offline. On our current seven-day route, we stop in four different countries each week. I can go ashore if I want to, or stay on board if I need a rest. Some people go out every single time: for food, beaches, hotel day passes, or simply proper internet. Everyone finds their own rhythm.
A liner is a small city of 8,000 people
The ship has everything. It is a miniature city with its own ecosystem: a fully equipped medical centre, a morgue, and even a small jail (used when someone breaks the rules and can’t be disembarked until the cruise ends). It truly is a floating town for around 8,000 people.
There are restaurants, ice shows, musical theatre, my aqua show, acrobats, divers, a spa, gym, hairdresser, nail salon, smoothie bar, pools, a water park, a surfing simulator, a climbing wall, a zipline — absolutely everything you can imagine. There is also an art gallery with auctions, a casino, brand shops, sports bars, arcades and children’s areas. You can even get married legally on board.
What do I miss? Mostly variety. The food is good, but very repetitive, and eating the same thing for months can wear you down. Many of us take vitamins to compensate. We are allowed to eat in guest areas — the buffet or restaurants — and whenever we dock in the United States, we stock up on things we miss: yoghurt, healthy snacks, berries, fruit. Avocados are almost impossible to find on board, so people smuggle them in. That is probably what I miss most.
How life at sea truly differs
Thanks to this job, I have travelled to an extraordinary number of places — the United States, the Caribbean, and a long list of European destinations, including islands belonging to Britain, Spain and the Netherlands. Europe is my favourite by far: France, Spain, Italy. I was incredibly lucky to be assigned to the only one of our company’s big ships that sails European routes each year — you genuinely need luck to land that posting. I am completely in love with Rome, and I am going back for a second season this year. I honestly can’t wait.
But the real magic is waking up in a new country every morning. My mum messages me asking, “Where are you today?” — and the answer is never the same. It feels like you are actually living your life, not just moving through it. And the best part is that you are travelling the world — and being paid to do it.
Bonus 1: Extra questions
The story turned out to be so unusual — especially for anyone who has never travelled on a cruise liner — that we couldn’t resist asking a few extra, slightly trickier questions.
— Are there people on board who don’t work but live there long-term? Have you spoken to any of them about their reasons?
— Yes — the guests. Some elderly couples book cruises for one, two, even three years at a time. Some essentially choose to spend their retirement — even the final years of their lives — at sea.
And the reasons are obvious: it is incredibly convenient. You live in what is essentially a hotel; someone cooks, cleans, entertains. You see the world effortlessly, stay warm year-round, and never worry about day-to-day chores.
— Have you ever experienced frightening moments at sea — storms where the ship really rocked?
— Personally, no. The ship has a sophisticated weather-tracking system monitoring rain, wind and waves. In two and a half years, the worst we have had were six-metre waves — and because the ship is nearly 400 metres long, you barely feel them. It can be uncomfortable if you are prone to seasickness, but it never feels dangerous. No water on deck, no sense of tipping.
I have heard of smaller ships being tossed around — one was even tilted 45 degrees during a storm — but nothing like that has ever happened with our vessels.
— If your phone or laptop breaks, can you fix it on board?
— If your device breaks, it is a nightmare. You essentially have to wait for the next American port, because that is usually the only place where you can reliably buy or repair anything. And even then, you might not have enough time to reach an Apple Store — the closest one can be an hour and a half away, while we often only have four hours ashore. So most of us end up ordering replacements online and waiting for delivery.
Another issue is the standard of service in repair centres. In some countries — Mexico, for example — it isn’t always reliable, and in the US our stops often fall on Sundays, when everything is closed. So yes, it is complicated — That is why I always carry a second phone just in case.
— What if something serious happens — say, appendicitis? Is the medical centre equipped for that?
— As I mentioned, the ship has a fully equipped medical centre. The team can provide first aid and deal with a wide range of issues. They won’t carry out complex procedures, like setting broken bones, but they will stabilise you and do everything required.
In urgent cases — including appendicitis — they can operate on board. It does happen from time to time, simply because the nearest port can be a full day’s sail away and waiting isn’t an option. For anything less time-sensitive, they will arrange for you to be seen at a clinic in the next port, where all the necessary specialists are available.
— Do you have insurance? What exactly does it cover?
— Yes. As employees — and particularly as performers, given the physical nature of our work — we are fully insured. Anything that happens on stage, during rehearsals, or anywhere on the ship is covered. But incidents that occur off the ship — stepping on a sea urchin in port, for instance — aren’t included.
Before joining, everyone undergoes a full medical examination to ensure there are no underlying conditions. Once you are cleared, anything that happens on board falls under the ship’s insurance. If you fall ill and can’t work for a fortnight, for example, you still receive your full salary. They are very good about it — you never feel pressured to power through an illness just to avoid losing pay.
Bonus 2: How much does it actually cost
Anastasiia has her accommodation and food covered as part of her employment contract. But what about everyone else? This is where it gets tricky: cruise lines almost never advertise monthly living packages on their websites. Long-term cruising is growing in popularity, but it is still a relatively niche market — most people book per day, not per month.
Naturally, we did some digging. Prices vary by company, route and season, but here is the general ballpark:
- Inside cabin: 1,200–2,500 USD per month
- Balcony cabin: 3,000–5,000 USD per month
These rates typically include all meals, entertainment, housekeeping, and access to facilities such as gym and pool. To put it into perspective, here are a few real-world examples:
- Royal Caribbean: A standard 7-day cruise starts at around 600 USD per cabin, which works out to roughly 2,400 USD per month if you book back-to-back sailings.
- The World: Their 112-day itineraries can exceed 15,000 USD, averaging around 3,700 USD per month.
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