Your deck and call

My friend heads to lunch in one of the ship's six restaurants while I zip down to the Cairns Esplanade to watch backpackers playing in the cool waters of the city's man-made beach. I reboard the ship for an appointment with immigration officials who stamp my passport.

My next appointment is with a sundowner.

In no time, I develop a shipboard routine, which starts on the balcony each morning, letting the wind tug at my hair and pyjamas while I scan the ocean and sky. The Silver Spirit rolls on the swell; the effect is entirely soothing. Arnel arrives with juices and tea at 8am. Over refreshments, I peruse the daily newsletter to see what activities grab me.

First stop is always the gym. With Silversea's all-inclusive fares, it would be a cinch to waddle off the Silver Spirit several kilos heavier. The gym is within the recesses of the spa where you can have your teeth whitened for $US149 ($141) or a jab of Botox if you want to disembark looking really fresh. Exercisers plugged into their iPods pound away on treadmills and stationary bikes as they stare at the ship's wake. The gym is popular but no one talks much in here, apart from a pair of Canadian sisters with strong opinions about the food.

They're among the 70-odd world travellers - those on board for the entire voyage - who have their suites marked with a plaque (a Savannah, Georgia, couple go further by adding a postcard of their home town).

Chuck and Gene Pratt of California are part of this elite long-haul group. They've never cruised before but tell me they're having a marvellous time. On past holidays, they stayed in one place for at least a fortnight, getting to know it intimately.

"This is the antithesis of that but we're not bored," Gene says. "We have a routine for a while and then we switch it up."

Unlike the chap they met who planned to stay on board for his entire journey without ever disembarking, the Pratts enjoy seeing snippets of the world.

If there's any downside, they say it is listening to frequent cruise passengers comparing excruciatingly fine points, such as cabin ceiling heights or the exclusive excursions for seasoned world travellers. The grumbling, in the midst of such luxury and warm service, can grate.

There's no grumbling at Jodie and Greg's daily ballroom classes. This is where I get to know Bill and John, the American "gentlemen hosts", while crushing their toes during the rumba and the waltz. The gentlemen hosts pay an agency to come aboard, where their conduct is governed by a 24-page contract. They are here as dance partners and company for any solo ladies in need of such services. They attend the 2pm ballroom class as well as the 7pm drinks for solo travellers, which is where you can scoop them up to join you over dinner. Bill is a former architect who lives in New York; he's a thoughtful conversationalist. John is a former travel agent who lives in the cruise mecca of Florida; he's an encouraging dance partner.

The other madam in the cabin follows her own interests but we reunite daily at the 4.45pm trivia game in the Panorama Lounge, where we refuse offers to join larger teams.

This is where we get to know the ebullient, multilingual cruise director Fernando, who's also quiz master. "Team eight," he cries, whenever he encounters us elsewhere on the ship. By the end of the week, we've answered enough questions to earn a Silversea calculator, memo holder and pen.

During my time aboard, I sweat through a Zumba class with Juliet (who sings jazz at night), work on my core strength with Kieren the personal trainer, make a bead bracelet with Carla the international hostess, take in a mind-reading show, learn a little Tagalog from the Filipino waiters and browse the library's impressive collection of hardcovers.

Somehow, I never make it to the boutique or casino and plunk into the tiny pool - eight strokes of freestyle long - once. Some passengers flock to the pool deck whenever the sun comes out to top up their tans. One overenthusiastic sun lover, tanned darker than a slab of mahogany, is secretly christened Leather Woman. The rhythms and habits that make days at sea pass so amiably are broken by the ports of call. You can buy a place on a shore excursion or strike out on your own, which is what we do on Thursday Island.

We start with a crazy plan to walk around the 3.5-square-kilometre island. We pass crocodile warning signs and the hospital helipad - a patient is heading home to another island after several months' treatment. His niece and others wave him off wearing big grins. We slog up to Green Hill Fort, where we see not only a glimpse of the Australian mainland but discover an ominous rain cloud headed straight for us. With no umbrellas, we scurry back down to town.

On a small island, it's hard not to bump into your fellow passengers. The shopaholics are buying jewellery and craft items in the airconditioned Tribal Boutique, near a petrol station where locals buy diesel at $2 a litre.

The Gab Titui Torres Strait Cultural Centre boasts walls of prints for sale. I'm tempted by Dennis Nona's delicate work but feel rushed and can't commit.

Never mind, there's a whole day in Darwin in which to check out galleries while my friend takes a shore excursion to see Adelaide River's jumping crocs ($US99). Over lunch with locals at the harbourfront Char Restaurant, I'm given a list of worthwhile galleries: Mbantua Gallery and Maningrida Arts in town, and Nomad Art, Tiwi Art Network and Outstation Gallery in Parap.

At Nomad, I buy a print by Western Desert artist Sadie Singer, tuck it under my arm and race back to the port in a cab. My driver points out the marina known as the Duck Pond and the wartime oil-storage tunnels. Upon catching sight of the Silver Spirit, he snorts and mumbles something about a floating cage.

I get where he's coming from - the pleasures of shipboard life aren't on display to the casual observer - yet I don't feel trapped. We're about to have two full days at sea as we head to Indonesia, the days I thought might get dull. They don't.

I slot straight into my routine and, at some point, develop a full-blown addiction to the pampering. Things such as Rosa knowing my name when we cross paths in the corridor, despite having never met before I boarded in Cairns. (My compulsory check-in photo is probably stuck on a wall somewhere.) At the lunchtime buffet, a waiter pounces to ferry my selections to the table. The attentiveness ends only when I climb into bed and let the ship rock me to sleep.

We're looking forward to Bali, where we plan to enjoy lunch and a massage in Ubud and see the sun drop behind Tanah Lot temple on the west coast. Still, it's a wrench to pack our formal, semi-formal and casual cruisewear and clamber off the Silver Spirit for the last time.

For two days afterwards, we continue swaying on the inside - a not-so-pleasant side effect of being at sea - yet it matters not a bit. We return to our butler-less homes in Sydney and pine for Arnel. We pine, too, for the grace and utter charm of cruising on the high seas. If that was the toff life then, pretty please, we would like some more.

Katrina Lobley cruised courtesy of Silversea.

Trip notes

Get on board

The Silver Spirit concludes its world voyage in Southampton on May 19, then shuttles around the Mediterranean until October on a series of seven- to 12-day voyages, such as the August 20-27 Rome-Venice sailing via Sorrento, Taormina and Dubrovnik. Fares from $4538, twin share, include a $US1000 ($946) credit per suite that can be spent on excursions, internet ($US45/$US85/$US250 for 100/250/1000-minute plans), phone, Le Champagne and Seishin dining surcharges, spa treatments and more.

You can also sail a portion of an itinerary (with a five-night minimum, available from most ports, price varies according to the route).

With European/US electrical outlets on board, pack an Australian adaptor.

The Silver Spirit is one of six in the Silversea fleet. The Silver Shadow arrives in Sydney on December 21 for a 15-day voyage to Auckland (from $9843 twin-share with $US1000 on-board credit).

More information

1300 306 872, silversea.com.