Today, Princess Cruises is one of the most successful cruise lines in history, listing well over a dozen ships calling at more than 300 ports, carrying roughly 1.3 million passengers yearly. Stanley McDonald, the company’s founder, has been called the father of modern cruising. “The hardest thing,” he once said, “was getting people to understand what a cruise was all about. Today, it’s common knowledge: Cruise ships are now the destination for the passenger.”

          Amenities on modern cruise ships are such that if you truly wish — and some do — you can get on board and never leave until the final destination.

            For years I’ve found cruising to have recreational value, but one recent trip revealed something else: It makes practical sense.
I sailed out of Copenhagen aboard the Star Princess to spend 10 days on the Baltic waters visiting six cities: Stockholm, Helsinki, Gdansk,St. Petersburg, Tallinn and Oslo. Even with my bad math I can manage to understand the economic sense that makes compared to overland trips — city to city, hotel to hotel. Beyond that, there’s the guided land tours the ship arranges, more than a dozen to choose from in each port.

             Taken collectively, Star Princess offered about 100 such tours, which meant not just plenty of choice, but small groups in each. In Stockholm, I walked with a guide through the oldest part of that gabled city seeing, among the many sites, the famous hall where Nobel prizes are presented. In Helsinki, I walked a distinct terrain with a physical education teacher, a robust man who taught me Nordic walking while answering my questions on life in Finland’s social democracy. (He was, to put it fairly, somewhat reserved in enthusiasm for its quality of life. “It’s hard to get ahead here,” he said. I can understand: The tax rate is high, often very high. For physicians it’s 70%.)

           Tallin in Estonia was the big surprise of this trip — once gripped in the chill of the cold war, it’s now a jewel. Its noble past is preserved for all who walk the famous hill and gabled square toward lofty Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. But, to be faithful to history, the terror of Tallin’s Soviet past is displayed. It’s in the Museum of Occupation, a visit Estonians hope we all take.

             There may be no city on Earth as ornate as St. Petersburg, rising over water on 19 islands, lined by bridges and canals. True, I had only two days there, but that reveals another value of a cruise: It raises the curtain on places you might like to go back to for longer stays. This time, I first took a walk on Nevsky Prospect, a dramatic and wide street lined by baroque homes, a demonstration why many believe the city to be among the world’s most glittering. The most famed site is, yes, that fabled museum, The Hermitage, to which I went with art historian Melitina Leonova. Consider: It occupies six buildings; it contains more than 17,000 paintings; it holds 12,000 sculptures; it houses 700 archaeological pieces. You’ll find works of da Vinci, Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso. Not to overdo it, let guide Melitina provide the additional value: “The building itself is so beautiful it’s worth seeing all by itself.”

The Baltic states appear largely secular. There are many churches, but mostly empty. As a charming guide in Stockholm, Inga Edewback told me earlier: “Church? We don’t go. I never do. But wait. I go when there are concerts.” She was silent for a time then added: “Lutheran is the official religion, but Islam is second. And growing.”

Yet there’s a notable exception to the secularity I observe: Poland. I looked forward to seeing it, for its spiritual history. So I woke up to sweet morning scents in a pretty harbour, Gdynia, gateway to the country’s best known city, Gdansk. It’s a glorious city, an open place with flowing trees bordered by wide sidewalks. On them I was, once or twice, taken back to my Atlantic youth, when I’d see nuns garbed in the old black, scurrying to church or school. Gdansk may be filled with hope, but the way back from grim communism has been long. Strolling through St. Mary’s Basilica, the world’s biggest church with room for 25,000 people, I asked Anna Prochnicka, my guide, how life is today. She gave me a thoughtful but honest answer: “In Poland, we say, our customer is our master.”

Still, the city is blessed with promise. It seemed the opposite of the country writer Jan Morris witnessed years ago, describing the view from her hotel as “grim and depressing.” That was then — before the changes brought on mostly by one man, Leck Walensa, the Noble Laureate who helped found Solidarity and was president from 1990 to 1995 overseeing the transition to democracy. We drove past his palatial manor. I asked Anna how she viewed Walensa. “I’m all for him,” she said in her pragmatic way. “And for his success.” I said his large home is quite striking for a man who once was an electrician. She replied: “Good for him.” I agree.

“Over a fine dinner,” a famous wit once said, “anything can be forgiven.” Over Princess dinners there was little to forgive. Consider my final night: As a golden sun slipped into the sea beyond the dining room window, I began (as is my custom) with a blended Scotch and the tiniest dash of soda. Very tiny. In nice order came vegetarian fettuccine alfredo. And with it my Pino Grigio. The main course came later — the day’s fresh sea bass. (I had, I confess, another glass of Pino Grigio, but just to pass the time.) After I’d finished the sea bass, dessert arrived — cheesecake, generous and fresh with marinated strawberries. So to tell you the utter truth, from embarkation on there truly wasn’t much to forgive, day or night. On the other hand: There was a lot to be grateful for.

Travel support provided by Princess Cruises. For upcoming voyages, see princesscruies.com.