Adriatic Cruise Itinerary: A Mother–Daughter Adventure from Venice to Croatia
On an ordinary Thursday in April, ten days before my 15-year-old’s (aka ‘The Baby’) 15th birthday, I felt the sands of time slipping too quickly through my fingers. I couldn’t slow them, so I decided to grab them instead. That very afternoon, Big Sis and I booked a weeklong mother-daughter cruise with The Baby and Niece for mid-August. For two women who are not known for their spontaneity, this felt downright reckless in the best way.
A Mediterranean cruise had lived on my bucket list for years. History, food, sun-baked weather—my travel love language. Cruising has always been our family’s happy medium: you unpack once, see multiple countries, and by the end, you know which ports deserve a return visit. This was my tenth cruise, almost all with Royal Caribbean. While I dream of smaller luxury lines with The Hubs one day, Royal is fantastic for family trips. We only had one possible week free in August. When a Greece + Adriatic itinerary on Explorer of the Seas popped up for that week, it felt like fate.
Venice Arrival
We flew into Venice, not the closest airport to Ravenna (where our ship departed), but the most convenient for flights, shuttle transfers, and, let’s be honest, the chance to squeeze in some Venetian magic.
Venice is not just a city but a floating tapestry of more than 100 islands, stitched together by canals and bridges. Founded in the 6th century by people fleeing mainland invaders, it became a medieval powerhouse. With its enviable position on the Adriatic and its bustling trade in silk, spices, and grain, Venice shaped European history and even launched Crusades. All of that grandeur… and no cars allowed past Piazzale Roma.
We stayed at the Courtyard Venice Airport for convenience, but hopped an Uber into the city as soon as our bags were dropped. August in Venice is hot, the kind of heat that makes gelato a survival strategy. We began with affogato at a café, then floated away on a gondola through narrow canals where the buildings seem to rise directly from the water. Everyone warns about “the smell of Venice,” but to me it was just the faint briny breath of the sea.
Lunch was at Osteria del Lovo, a narrow little spot with a chalkboard of daily pastas, ceiling fans pushing around the August heat, and locals lingering over carafes of house wine. We ordered bruschetta and three pastas. The winner? Truffle pasta—silky, earthy, and indulgent enough to make us forget the heat. The staff was brisk but warm in that Venetian way: a raised eyebrow at our indecision, a grin when the plates came back clean. Later, at Suso Gelatoteca, we licked cones of pistachio and hazelnut as we wandered.
We made our way to Piazza San Marco, and it truly felt like stepping into a living painting. The square opened before us, sun bouncing off marble and mosaics, pigeons swooping in arcs as musicians tuned their instruments at café tables. What a marvel—surrounded by such beauty, history, and grandeur.
To the east rose the Basilica di San Marco, its golden mosaics glittering above doorways first opened in 828. Beside it stood the Campanile, the bell tower that collapsed dramatically in 1902 and was rebuilt ten years later, red brick glowing in the afternoon sun. On one side ticked the Torre dell’Orologio, a Renaissance clock tower from 1647 crowned with bronze figures that strike the hours. Across the square stretched the Gothic Doge’s Palace, where Venetian leaders once ruled a maritime empire. And anchoring it all, Caffè Florian, serving coffee since 1720—so old it predates Mozart.
Standing in that square, I felt swallowed up by centuries. The stones beneath my feet had carried merchants, nobles, and travelers for centuries, and now here I was, just another wanderer pausing to soak it all in. I was in awe, not only of the architecture, but of the way past and present mingled so seamlessly: ancient domes above, gelato in my hand, my daughter at my side.
By mid-afternoon, the streets were far more crowded and the heat was oppressive. And, man, were we tired. We joined their tradition, resting our weary feet with icy bellinis at Caffè Florian, the clink of glasses, and the hum of Venice. Afterward, we made our way to Piazzale Roma, called an Uber, and returned for an early night.
The next morning, bellinis behind us and bags packed again, it was time to trade Venice’s canals for the open Adriatic.
Cruise Life & Kotor, Montenegro
The next morning, we boarded Explorer of the Seas. Our balcony cabin was perfect—sea air included. Cruise life is blissfully “choose-your-own-adventure”: trivia contests and poolside movies if you want action, quiet stateroom naps if you don’t. We split the difference, balancing excursions with lazy afternoons.
Our first stop was Kotor, Montenegro. Nestled at the end of a fjord-like bay (technically carved by a collapsed river canyon, not glaciers), it’s ringed by limestone cliffs and medieval walls that snake up to Saint Ivan’s Fortress. Kotor’s Old Town is a UNESCO site, its cobblestones dating back to the 12th century.
Our excursion, though, was less enchanting. Because Kotor is a tender port, just getting ashore was a process. Once on land, we boarded a motorboat to the Blue Cave, where sunlight filters through a narrow opening, turning the water an unreal shade of turquoise. Stunning, yes, but crowded, chaotic, and quick. From there, we were whisked to Zanjice Beach, billed as “secluded” but jam-packed. By the time we lined up for the tender back, hot and sandy, we were all dreaming of showers and shipboard dinner. Beautiful views, but not a highlight.
Will I return? Yes — I’ve heard Montenegro is spectacular, and I’d like to go back to see what everyone’s talking about beyond the crowded excursions.
Athens, Greece
Athens had been on my travel wish list for as long as I can remember, and stepping off the bus into the August heat, I felt that mix of anticipation and nerves you get before meeting someone famous. The city itself is chaotic—traffic honking, scooters darting, graffiti bright against centuries-old walls, but above it all rises the Acropolis, glowing pale gold in the sun like it knows exactly who’s boss.
The climb up was steep and hot, the kind of heat that settles on your shoulders like a heavy shawl. Tour groups clustered under whatever scrap of shade they could find, guides waving flags and shouting facts over the buzz of cicadas. My water bottle was already half-empty, but every step higher brought another glimpse of marble columns etched against the sky, pulling me forward.
The Acropolis isn’t a single monument, as I had once thought, but an entire plateau of temples, theaters, and gateways that date back to the 5th century BC. The Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a grand stone theater carved into the hillside, still hosts concerts today. Passing through the Propylaea gates felt like crossing a threshold not just in space, but in time.
And then—the Parthenon. No photo or textbook could have prepared me. The sheer scale is staggering, its columns soaring, weathered but unbowed by nearly 2,500 years of history. Imagine it once gleaming with fresh marble, adorned with statues, dedicated to Athena, goddess of wisdom. Since then, it has been a treasury, a church, a mosque, even a munitions dump that tragically exploded. And yet, here it still stands, luminous in the Athenian sun.
I pressed my hand against the marble, cool despite the heat, and thought about the Athenians who quarried, carved, and raised these stones without cranes, without modern tools, just human ingenuity and determination. I thought about philosophers like Socrates and Aristotle, whose ideas echo through time, shaping the world I live in today. The weight of history was almost too much to hold, yet strangely comforting. It made me feel small, yes—but also part of a continuum far greater than myself.
Walking down from the hill, drenched in sweat and awe, I realized this wasn’t just sightseeing. It was a humbling reminder that civilizations rise and fall, but human creativity and resilience endure. Athens left me sunburned, dehydrated, and completely awestruck.
Will I return? Honestly, I feel like I checked this box — unless The Hubs wants to see it one day. For me, the wonder of the Parthenon and the Acropolis was unforgettable, but once-in-a-lifetime feels about right.
Santorini Sailing
This was the stop my daughter and niece had been buzzing about. Santorini, with its sugar-cube houses perched high on cliffs. Thankfully, our catamaran excursion spared us the infamous 588 stairs or donkey ride to Fira.
We sailed the Santorini caldera, a volcanic cauldron still marked by the dormant Nea Kameni volcano. The water shifted from inky blue to a glowing teal near the hot springs, warmed by magma below. We didn’t brave the swim (cold currents kept us on deck), but later anchored in a secluded bay for a dip in the royal-blue Aegean.
Lunch onboard—chicken souvlaki, dolmades, pita, tzatziki, feta—was one of the best meals of our trip. Maybe it was the salt on our skin, or the breeze tangling our hair, but eating Greek food on a boat in the Aegean felt like pure magic. As we lounged on deck, I thought of how this island was once shattered by one of the largest volcanic eruptions in history, and yet here it stood: dazzling, dramatic, alive with beauty.
After wandering a few shops at the port, we tendered back to the ship, sun-kissed and smiling.
Will I return? Probably not to Santorini itself; it’s undeniably crowded, but perhaps to one of the quieter Greek islands that still keep their secrets.
Split & Omis, Croatia
Our final port was Split, Croatia, and it turned out to be the perfect ending. We drove to Omis, once a pirate stronghold where raiders used the Mirabella Fortress to spot merchant ships and ambush them. The medieval alleys, stone walls, and red-tiled roofs felt cinematic, like a set waiting for a film crew.
From Omis, we drifted by boat up the Cetina River, its canyon walls lush with greenery. The air smelled faintly of pine and river reeds, cool after so many days of the Mediterranean heat.
At a riverside restaurant, we tore into still-warm bread, local prosciutto, tangy cheese, and a carafe of wine. Simple, fresh, and perfect, the kind of meal that reminds you luxury is sometimes just authenticity served with a smile.
Back in Split, I wished for more time to explore Diocletian’s Palace, a 4th-century Roman complex that doesn’t just anchor the old town, it is the old town: lanes stitched through ancient walls, apartments tucked into arcades, cafés where the emperor’s colonnades cast afternoon shade.
Will I return? Definitely. Split felt like a place I only skimmed the surface of; next time I want to linger in those ancient courtyards, sip coffee under the palace arches, and see what it feels like when the crowds thin and the city belongs to itself again.
Final Thoughts
This cruise was everything I’d hoped: breathtaking views, incredible food, and history layered upon history. But more than that, it was time carved out with my daughter, sister, and niece, time we’ll never get back and will always remember. And as with any good cruise, it also showed me which ports I’d return to in a heartbeat, which I’ve likely checked off for good, and which ones still whisper.
I hope this inspires you to travel, to eat, and to join me as I continue sharing my journey through seven continents and infinite foods.
**************************************************
If You Go – Quick Itinerary
Day 1
Venice - Courtyard Venice Airport
Osteria del Lovo (takes reservations)
Day 2 - 11
**I would highly recommend that you make reservations in advance when available. I always book scheduled activities and typically make dinner reservations in advance. I’ve indicated with a parenthetical any restaurants that take reservations.