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Planning a honeymoon is no easy task, especially when each of you has a different definition of "vacation." My now-husband, Adam, wanted to bury his feet in the sand and read books under a beach umbrella. Meanwhile, I had visions of admiring architecture, strolling through museums and sipping wine in the sun.

After months of wrangling over our opposing fantasies, we found a trip that would combine his desire to relax with mine to explore: a Mediterranean cruise. Our 12-night voyage aboard Celebrity's 1,950-passenger Millennium would take us to Barcelona, Nice, Florence, Rome, Naples, Mykonos, Santorini, Athens and Venice—a different port for almost every day of the trip. The ship would deposit us right at the region's best sights, and we could choose to sign up for guided group tours, so that we could visit the Acropolis in the morning, for example, and rest poolside after lunch. We'd get the best of both worlds. Never having been on a cruise, we couldn't wait to set sail on this romantic adventure.

Love Boat

Adam and I boarded the Millennium in Barcelona, heading straight to the dock from the airport after a tiring overnight flight from New York. We felt grimy and jet-lagged, so we went right to our stateroom. The cabin was small; a queen-size bed took up most of the room. Our faces brightened when we saw the balcony, from which we could watch new countries float into view every few days.

After quick showers, we raced back into town in order to do some sightseeing before the ship departed that evening. As our taxi headed toward the famous Sagrada Familia church, the architect Antonio Gaudí's most renowned creation, the city unfolded before us. Sophisticated women sauntered past centuries-old buildings, cafés spilled over onto the sidewalks, and Adam, a first-time visitor, was as wide-eyed as a little boy.

After touring the gorgeous church, we visited the maze-like Barri Gòtic neighborhood, where we wove through narrow alleys, past the Picasso Museum (we couldn't go in; it's closed on Mondays), an old opera house and plenty of interesting boutiques. There was a lot to see but, as the sun began to set lower in the sky, we knew we needed to return to the ship. While we weren't able to explore the city as extensively as we would have liked, we had seen enough to know that, someday, we'd be back.

We returned to the ship in a taxi, Adam snoozing shamelessly in the back seat. Later, at the Mast Bar, located at the Millennium's stern, we looked over the railing and waved "adios" toBarcelona . We watched the city fade into the distance, then ran back down to our cabin, and were asleep as soon as our heads had settled onto our pillows.

Anchors Away

The following week went by in a blur. The next day, the ship pulled into the port city of Nice, the star of the French Riviera, where the smell of ripe olives lured us to the local market. After that came Florence, where the pizza, topped with sweet tomatoes and juicy artichokes, seemed to us as much a work of art as the Duomo or David. In Rome, the Vatican City and the traffic each left indelible impressions.

After the hustle of these urban ports, we arrived at the Greekisland of Santorini . As we approached from the water, the island looked like a giant sand castle rising out of the sea. Weary from days of sightseeing and shopping, Adam looked forward to resting on one of the island's famous beaches.

Santorini's capital, Fira, stands on the summit, and as we walked off the ship's gangway we learned that there were three ways up: modern-looking cable cars, donkeys following a switchback path, or a steep staircase that was sure to be a workout. In the spirit of adventure, we opted for the donkeys.

But, as we walked toward the path, the odor of these sure-footed creatures working in the heat made us hesitate, and we decided to go for a cable car instead. The climb in the funicular was about as gradual as a helicopter take off. Dangling in the wind, we shot straight for the clouds. The view, however, made up for the amusement park-style ride: The sky and water were various shades of blue, and the Millennium sat off in the distance.

At the top, the streets were filled with vendors. People bargained everywhere, and merchants shouted deals in English. "Just $20," a man called, as he pointed at an embroidered tablerunner. "Just $10," said another. "Only $10!" I exclaimed. Adam pulled me away, and we headed off for nearbyKamari Beach , towels in tow.

A beautiful black-sand shoreline on the island's southeastern coast,Kamari Beach was much different than I had imagined. Instead of soft, sandy grains, chiseled black rocks stretched from the promenade to the sea. Walking with Adam on the night-colored sand was like wandering onto another planet. We rented a palm-thatched umbrella and two lounge chairs and spread out. Within minutes, the sunshine had warmed our bodies, and our spirits. Adam reclined in the chaise. "Now this is a vacation," he said, smiling, and opened his book. Around us, sun-worshippers chatted happily in Italian, Greek, French and Spanish. Like a soothing lullaby, their banter lulled me into sleep.

Back on the ship, we headed straight for the hot tub. Huddling together in the bubbles, we toasted to Santorini with frozen drinks topped with pink umbrellas, and looked forward to more relaxation during the next day, which would be spent entirely at sea. I smiled, knowing I would get to sleep late, order a room-service breakfast and have a massage at the spa, and that we would dress up in the elegant black-tie outfits we had brought for just this occasion. Best of all, we could spend the day focusing entirely on each other—and that, to me, is what a honeymoon is about.

City Search

Several days later, on the morning the ship eased into Venice , our last port, passengers hung excitedly over the railings to greet the famous city. Adam and I marked the occasion privately—on our balcony, with flutes of champagne.

Later, as we walked into St. Mark's Square with our tour group, flocks of pigeons descended around us. The Doge's Palace, the ancient residence of government officials, and St. Mark's Cathedral left us mesmerized. We gawked at the palace's huge arches, ornate staircase and imposing Gothic façade, and decided that the cathedral's Baroque exterior could seduce even a devout atheist into conversion. But this was Italy, home to fresh pasta and seafood, and we longed to sample the local delicacies. We asked our guide for a recommendation.

"Trattoria alla Madonna," he answered, "on the other side of the Ponte di Rialto." Off we went through a maze of paths in search of the Rialto Bridge.

Venice is a mesmerizing web of streets, a labyrinth that tempts pedestrians at every corner and pulls them deeper into the city. As we walked, we shopped; I picked up a pair of beautiful leather boots, some stationery and several necklaces made of glass. We turned here and there, never totally sure if we were going the right way. Finally, the Ponte di Rialto came into view.

We found Trattoria alla Madonna in an alley nearby. This simple, café-style restaurant greets customers with a display of mountains of seafood on ice as soon as they walk in.

We ordered clams and lasagna, along with a bottle of wine. The clams, straight from the sea, arrived dressed in garlic and oil. The lasagna: a steaming tower of soft noodles, meat, ricotta cheese and bright-green peas. We finished every bite. Then, we finished the wine.

For a last look at the city, we hopped in a gondola. As I leaned back against Adam, the moon stared down at us, and the city's frantic pace seemed to slow to the speed of our boat. Adam kicked up his feet, his arms freed of my purchases.

"So what do you think of our cruise, Mrs. Strom?" he asked, smiling at me. Just then, the sound of a violin drifted over to us from a nearby square. I rested my head on Adam's chest. "Oh, I like it," I answered, sighing happily. "I like it a lot."