Earlier in 2025, my wife Nicole and I finally took the honeymoon we never really gave ourselves—a first-ever cruise that accidentally turned into two cruises. We booked what we thought was an 11-day sailing with MSC in the Yacht Club, only to find out later it was actually a back-to-back: seven days and then four days.
Turned out, that little surprise fit the whole vibe of the trip—ease, delight, and the feeling that the world had quietly rearranged itself to give us exactly what we needed.
This is the story of those days: part travel log, part love letter to the Yacht Club, with a healthy side of pizza, steak frites, jerk chicken, and a mysterious river fruit in Jamaica.
Setting the Scene: A “Honeymoon” Years Later
We’ve been married for years, but this cruise was the first time we really went all-in on something that felt like a proper honeymoon. No rushing between airports, no overstuffed itineraries—just one ship, one suite, and the idea that for 11 days, real life could wait.
From the moment we stepped into the MSC Yacht Club, it felt turnkey:
- Priority check-in and boarding that made the chaos outside just… disappear.
- A private sanctuary at the top of the ship: lounge, pool, bar, restaurant, all tucked away from the crowds.
- A butler team that somehow learned our preferences faster than we did.
It wasn’t just “nice service.” It was the kind of experience where you start to relax in layers, because every little friction point has already been smoothed out before you get there.
Discovering the Yacht Club Bubble
The Yacht Club felt like a ship within the ship.
While thousands of people were doing the usual cruise shuffle—lines, crowds, noise—we floated in this quieter parallel universe. We’d wander out into the larger ship when we wanted shows, shops, or just to people-watch, then retreat back upstairs when we’d had enough.
What I remember most about the Yacht Club itself:
- The lounge, where the staff got to know our regular drinks and snacks.
- The pool deck, which felt more like a boutique hotel rooftop than a cruise ship.
- The restaurant, which became the anchor of our days, especially at dinner.
And then there was our favorite ritual, which we came to call emergency pizza.
“Emergency Pizza” and Late-Night Rituals
Every night, like clockwork, we’d end up back in our suite with a Neapolitan-style pizza delivered to the room. No drama, no fuss—just a perfectly blistered crust, melted cheese, and a few different toppings we rotated through over the course of the cruise.
It wasn’t “we’re starving, we need food.” It was more like a cozy, built-in indulgence:
- A way to rewind the day, just the two of us.
- A comfort food ritual we could count on, no matter what else we did.
- And yes, very on-brand for us to think ahead and schedule “emergency pizza.”
It sounds like a small thing, but that’s the point: the small things added up.
The Night They Invented Steak Frites for Nicole
If I had to pick one single moment that captured what made the Yacht Club special, it would be the night Nicole wanted steak frites.
The menu had a filet, sure. It had sides. It had all the elegance you’d
expect.
What it didn’t have was exactly what she was craving: a proper steak
frites—filet with pommes frites, not the default sides.
She mentioned it to our server almost offhandedly:
“I’m kind of in the mood for steak frites… is there any way to do fries with
this?”
They could’ve easily said no. They could’ve offered a substitute and called it a day.
Instead, somewhere behind the scenes, someone went hunting for potatoes. They cut them, fried them, and plated them up like they’d always been part of the menu. The dish that arrived wasn’t just “steak with fries added.” It looked and felt like an intentional, composed steak frites you’d expect in a nice restaurant.
And it didn’t take forever. No sense of inconvenience. Just: Of course. We can do that.
For me, that moment tied everything together:
- The quality of the food.
- The flexibility of the kitchen.
- The way the staff seemed genuinely invested in making our version of a perfect evening happen.
Why We’ll Always Book the Yacht Club
We sailed the MSC Seascape out of Miami, and it set a new bar for what a cruise can feel like. After this trip, I can’t imagine not booking the Yacht Club—it’s calm, quietly attentive, and designed in a way that lets you actually exhale.
The crew is a big part of that. Our butler, Joseph, and his assistant, Romeo, took care of us with the kind of ease that makes small luxuries feel natural. Once we landed on “our” drink—lemon drop martinis—they started arriving to the room at night like clockwork, a little ritual that made the suite feel even more like home.
Because we don’t really drink much hard liquor (or at least didn’t until the lemon drop discovery), we asked for a bottle of Moscato to be stocked in our room in place of other wines or spirits. They didn’t disappoint—thank you, Mr. Danny!
On another night, when Nicole couldn’t make it down to the Yacht Club restaurant, I asked if they could bring her dinner upstairs instead. There was no hesitation. Her meal appeared in our suite, plated with the same care as if we were seated in the dining room. It didn’t feel like a favor; it felt like family.
That blend of quiet luxury and unshowy care is why we’ll book the Yacht Club again.
Ports of Call: Bahamas, Grand Cayman, Ocean Cay… and Then Jamaica
The itinerary itself was already solid:
- Bahamas – classic, sun-drenched stop with that “you’re not at home anymore” feeling.
- Grand Cayman – emerald water, polished and postcard-ready.
- Ocean Cay – MSC’s private island, with that curated “your ship, your beach” blend of nature and structure.
All of them were good. They each scratched a different “this is why we cruise” itch.
But then there was Jamaica.
Jamaica: The Port with the Best Vibe
When I think back on this cruise, Jamaica is the stop that sticks the hardest.
There was just something about the energy—warm, relaxed, confident, a kind of easy friendliness that felt very different from the more curated or resort-like ports. I left Jamaica already planning a future trip back, just to spend more time there without a ship’s schedule in the background.
The highlight of the day was our excursion: rafting down the Martha Brae River.
Rafting the Martha Brae River (and a Mystery Fruit)
The Martha Brae River is the kind of place that makes you lower your voice and slow your thoughts a bit. The water moves at its own pace, shaded by trees that arch over the river like they’ve been practicing for centuries.
We boarded a long bamboo raft and met our guide—easygoing, funny, and clearly at home on that river. As we floated downstream, he didn’t just point out landmarks; he started talking about the trees themselves, the plants, the fruit.
At one point he reached up, grabbed a fruit that had fallen or hung low over the water, and brought it onto the raft. He cracked it open, showed us how to eat it, and explained what locals use it for.
It was sweet. Different from anything I eat in daily life.
And of course, now that I’m home, I wish I remembered what it was called.
But that almost makes it better in a way—it’s become this “mystery river fruit” in my memory: a small moment of generosity and local knowledge, handed over in the middle of a quiet stretch of water.
The Best Jerk Chicken Served in a Foil Boat
As we drifted along, we started spotting little stops along the riverbanks—people selling crafts, snacks, and all kinds of things to passing rafters.
I wasn’t looking to carry souvenirs, but then I saw something I was interested
in:
a guy selling jerk chicken.
We pulled over, and I handed him some cash. What I got back was simple and perfect:
- Jerk chicken, nestled in an aluminum foil “boat.”
- No fancy plating, no garnish—just pure, smoky, spicy, juicy goodness.
I tore that stuff up.
It was one of those meals that cuts straight through all your expectations. No restaurant, no white tablecloth—just a river, a raft, and foil cradling chicken that tasted like it had generations of practice behind it.
When I got back to the Twin Cities, I told the owner at Nadia’s Jamaican Kitchen how much that river jerk reminded me of her cooking. That’s the level it was on for me.
Little Onboard Discoveries: Chips, Gin, Lasagna, and Spice
Back on the ship, the food story continued in smaller, more personal ways—little discoveries that became “our things” for the rest of the cruise.
Honey Mustard Chips (Made Just for Us)
At some point, we ended up with what I can only describe as honey mustard chips—thin, crisp, tangy-sweet, clearly made from scratch. They weren’t some mass-produced bag from the bar. They felt like something the kitchen just created.
It was another small but telling moment: we weren’t just consuming “what was on offer.” The staff kept finding ways to tailor things to us, almost like we were regulars at a neighborhood spot rather than first-time cruisers on a massive ship.
A Signature Italian Gin: Engine
Then there was the Italian gin we discovered onboard: Engine.
We tried it once, liked it, and pretty quickly it became our go-to. Before long, ordering “our drink” was just part of the nightly rhythm—a familiar anchor in a new environment.
We embraced it so fully that, at some point, the ship actually ran out of Engine. I can’t say we’re solely responsible, but we definitely contributed to the shortage.
There’s something oddly charming about that: we found a little niche on this floating city and leaned into it so hard we outpaced the inventory.
Lasagna and a Custom Arrabbiata
Two other meals stand out in my mind from the Yacht Club restaurant:
- A lasagna that felt like a masterclass in layering—pasta, sauce, cheese, all in perfect balance, the kind of dish that makes you pause mid-bite just to appreciate it.
- An arrabbiata that started as “standard good” and turned into “exactly what I wanted” when they amped up the heat on request.
I asked for more spice, and instead of shrugging or handing me a chili shaker, they cooked it that way—hotter, brighter, more alive on the palate.
Just like the steak frites, it was another reminder: the real luxury wasn’t just in the ingredients or the plating; it was in the willingness to adapt the experience to us.
Why This Cruise Sticks With Me
Looking back, this Yacht Club cruise isn’t just a blur of ports and meals. It’s a stack of specific, textured memories:
- The surprise of realizing we were on a back-to-back instead of a single sailing.
- The feeling of being in a calm bubble above the chaos of a big ship.
- Late-night Neapolitan “emergency pizza” in our suite.
- Nicole’s custom steak frites, conjured from a menu that didn’t list it.
- Floating down the Martha Brae River while our guide passed us fruit straight from the trees.
- Jerk chicken eaten from a foil boat that held its own against my favorite Jamaican spot back home.
- Custom chips, an Italian gin that became “our drink,” and a kitchen that never seemed to get tired of saying, “Sure, we can do that.”
If you’ve ever wondered whether the Yacht Club is worth it for a first-time cruise—especially if you’re treating it like a belated honeymoon—my answer is simple:
For us, absolutely yes.
It wasn’t just a vacation. It was 11 days of feeling seen, relaxed, and well-fed, on land and at sea. And I can’t wait to get back to Jamaica… and maybe back to that little ship-within-a-ship at the top of MSC.