It all began, as so many modern misadventures do, with an unsolicited email. This one, from MSC Cruises, offered an implausibly inexpensive 17-night repositioning cruise from Genoa to Dubai. I briefly considered the prudent response—deleting it—but predictably opted for the impulsive one instead. Reader, I booked it.

17 Night MSC Cruise from Genoa to Dubai

Given the December departure, we tacked on a few days in Switzerland first—a civilised prelude to floating buffets and dubious cabaret. The plan: snow, scenic views, and perhaps a mulled wine or three.

We arrived in Zurich via Emirates (always a pleasure when flying involves actual cutlery), then proceeded by train to Luzern. As luck—or providence—would have it, we arrived on the opening night of Luzern’s Christmas Market at Franziskanerplatz. Glühwein in hand, roasted nuts warming our pockets, and a festive atmosphere to rival any Hallmark film, we strolled through what can only be described as a sugarplum-scented fever dream. Quite charming, really.

Christmas Market in Luzern

The next morning, we boarded a train bound for Engelberg. Most of the journey was a grey, meteorological shrug. Then, as we emerged from the final tunnel, the landscape underwent a miraculous transformation—snow, sunshine, and views that looked as though they’d been carefully curated by a tourism board. Postcard-worthy in every sense.

Engelberg in Winter

Our lodgings, the venerable Hotel Edelweiss, served as our base for three days. Engelberg is the launch point for ascents to Mt Titlis, and serendipitously, the summit’s Panorama Restaurant opens but once a month for an evening fondue by moonlight—naturally, on the full moon. I’d booked well in advance, guided by some uncharacteristic foresight. Thus, we dined at 10,000 feet under lunar illumination. A fondue never tasted so… lofty.

The following day, we returned to the summit. The views were transcendental; the temperature was -17°C and the wind had clearly missed its calling as a banshee. Bracing is one word for it. Glacial is another.

The Summit of Mt Titlis

Skiing lessons were the order of the day next. Amani and Malaika adapted with unnerving ease. Zawadi… less so. Let us say she approached the concept of gravity with rather more reverence. Still, a gallant effort.

Malaika skiing

With no broken limbs and spirits intact, we bade Engelberg farewell. Milan welcomed us with Christmas lights, good pizza, and that peculiar Italian nonchalance about traffic. From there, Genoa was but a train ride away. We boarded the MSC Splendida, ready to set sail.

Comfy Balcony Cabin on the MSC Splendida

It was something of a homecoming—we’d last been aboard Splendida for a Norwegian fjords cruise some years earlier. A floating nostalgia trip, albeit with more sunshine and fewer trolls.

The Colosseum in Rome

Our first port: Civitavecchia, gateway to Rome and the Vatican. Culture, ruins, and an espresso that could wake the dead. We then sailed through the Strait of Messina—better known as the gap where Sicily has, for now, resisted drifting off.

Next: Heraklion, Crete, followed by a contemplative journey through the Suez Canal. And then, the highlight—Aqaba, Jordan. I’d arranged a taxi (the mark of a seasoned tourist) to take us to Petra. Suffice it to say, it deserves its legendary status.

Petra – Absolutely Magnificent!

Muttrah Harbour

Incidentally, should you require a reliable driver in Jordan, Yousef is your man. Efficient, courteous, and miraculously immune to Jordanian road chaos.

After a Red Sea traverse and a blissfully uneventful passage past the Horn of Africa, we found ourselves, somewhat surreally, arriving in Muscat. Home sweet home, albeit experienced through the mildly disorienting lens of cruise-tourism. It’s a curious thing to be a tourist in one’s own city—rather like attending a guided tour of your pantry. Still, the arrival into Muttrah Harbour at dawn was undeniably beautiful. The golden light, the call to prayer echoing softly across the water, and the realisation that the cruise included a free shore excursion—well, one must never look a gift dhow in the mouth.

Our excursion included the usual suspects: the Grand Mosque (still magnificent), the Mutrah Souq (where you can still buy a pashmina, a frankincense burner, and a knockoff Rolex all within five minutes), Bait al Zubair Museum, and the Sultan’s Palace. All suitably photogenic.

Doha

The next leg of the voyage took us through the Strait of Hormuz—still open for business—and on to Doha, Qatar. An architecturally ambitious place, Doha seems determined to prove that no building is complete until it’s lit up like a rare tropical fish. It’s all very futuristic and vaguely Blade Runner-esque, albeit with more indoor waterfalls and fewer replicants.

Then came Sir Bani Yas Island. Now, one doesn’t wish to be unkind, but suffice it to say it’s not the Louvre. There were flamingos. And sand. And, well, more sand. If you’ve ever wanted to see a luxury cruise ship full of people trying to look excited about a nature walk, it’s the place for you.

Finally, Dubai—our terminus and setting for a most unconventional Christmas.

The Burj Khalifa at Dubai Mall

Dubai at Christmas is rather like being in a snow globe, only the snow is replaced with LED lights and the globe is a high-end shopping centre. We managed to secure a balcony table at TGIF at Dubai Mall (surely the most American of festive venues), from which we enjoyed the musical fountains and a dessert called “Death by Chocolate.” Frankly, there are worse ways to go.

What an escapade—from snow-capped Alps to sun-soaked souqs, ancient marvels to modern marvels, and with enough cheese (both literal and figurative) to satisfy even the most ravenous of travellers.

Now, the eternal question: where to next?