Charisma and whānau set off on a seven-day cruise, getting used to the cruise ship environment and observing different tikanga in action, practising different languages and farewelling half of their rōpū as they return to Aotearoa.
We’ve just stepped off a 7-day cruise – Istanbul to the Greek Isles, brushing the toe of Italy, and finishing in Athens.
Cruises are … fascinating. A floating city of 4,000 people at the mercy of Tangaroa, all trying to relax, indulge, and coexist. For Mum, it was a hard sell – too crowded, too chaotic. But once she realised the ship was basically a live theatre full of unscripted personalities, she was sold. People-watching with all the time in the world and no responsibilities – peak contentment.
The boys came for food and volleyball. There was a court – fully netted, half-sized, and exposed to the winds on the top deck. Suffice to say they were not impressed.
For me, it was the carefree nature of getting to visit new places without worrying about cooking or cleaning.
Other cruises I’ve been on were with the same group of people the entire way. This was more like a rolling train, with passengers hopping on and off at different ports. With each stop, the dynamic shifted.
The crowds moved differently – people who’d clearly learned to survive by pushing forward. Queueing became a contact sport. Elbows were thrown. At the bingo ticket desk you had to guard your slips like the were gold otherwise some Nonna will try to claim them.
The best part was regrouping at the end of the day, sharing our survival stories.
“Ngā tikanga o konei,” the boys would mutter after yet another buffet injustice. It became our catchphrase.
And each time, I’d remind them — this is not our whenua. We’re manuhiri. Their tikanga may be different, but they belong here. Our role is to observe, not to judge or complain. Every space has its rhythm, its logic. Understanding begins by immersing yourself wholeheartedly.
Tonight we had our final dinner as a crew of eight. Tomorrow, half the whānau head home – a 40-hour haul back to Aotearoa.
We sat on the veranda of a small restaurant in Athens, green vines overhead and a view of the sun-drenched, solid Acropolis. As we waited for our kai, we took a moment to reflect on what we were grateful for.
“I’m grateful for how kind everyone’s been.”
“Kua ngāwari. It’s been easy. No dramas.”
“Ko te tiaki wā, ko te whakawātea i a tātou i ngā mahi o ia te rā kia hararei tahi.”
“I’m just grateful to be here with everyone.”
We’re not big on emotions as a whānau. Deep kōrero over dinner? Usually a hard pass. But this time, there was a gentleness. No awkwardness. Just gratitude.
But there’s a change in the wind tonight.
Our group halves tomorrow. The buzz will drop. The rhythm will shift. I’ll miss them. But the boys are already plotting plans for the next trip – Japan maybe – once we’ve replenished the savings.
We know we’re lucky. To be here, in this place, with each other.
In the background, that ancient whare koroua remains – unmoved, watching. A quiet reminder of how brief our time is, and how important it is to take the moments when they come.
We left Greece wowed by the land, the hospitality of its people, and the language. The aqua-green water, the white-plastered homes trimmed in blue.
Mykonos was stunning, though overwhelmed by crowds. It’s easy to see what draws people there, but with four cruise ships in port you can imagine how a small town with narrow alleyways and cobbled paths starts to feel when thousands descend upon it.
Somewhere in the crowd we heard it – “kia ora”. It was with an Aussie accent but we gravitated towards the restaurant host anyway. It felt good to hear it.
Now we’re in Rome. One of the kaupapa for our haerenga is learning languages. Maybe a week in Italy is a good warm up for two weeks in Spain?
Immersion is hands-down the best way to get confident with a language. It’s also the fastest way to feel like a complete dick … all part of the learning process. And we’re still paying attention to what’s happening at home, so when we were in Greece, where the alphabet is completely different, I noted that I could still spot a stop sign and understand what it meant.
The use of te reo Māori is not a threat to our country – it makes us all stronger. The politicisation of our reo and culture is just hōhā, and to be honest it’s a bloody travesty that our country is actually moving backwards. But I digress.
Today, all I wanted to do was say hello, thank you, and please – in Italian. I practised it on the plane, and planned to start by saying “per favore” to the driver who would be picking us up from the airport. I rehearsed it again in my head as we queued to meet Gianni. This was my moment.
Tāiki stepped forward first, handed over his bag, smiled and said “Grazie”. I’d been practising the wrong bloody word the hole time.
Tongue-tied, I panicked and settled for a smile and a nod. Not a word left my mouth. Fluent in embarrassment. This is going to be harder than I thought.
