me widower I'd met on the plane. No ladies were at his side. Maybe he was shy.

Celebrations aboard ship that evening were low-key at first: a Christmas tree on each deck and a holiday menu. Then, what a nice surprise: The pleasant man who sat behind me on the plane asked me to join him for a drink before dinner. Later, we met to watch a delightful Christmas musical together.

The next day it was full steam ahead to the island of Borneo, called "Land Below the Wind" because the island is just south of the typhoon belt. Then the final two days of our voyage--north to Hong Kong on the notoriously choppy South China Sea.

Fortunately, Christmas at se

Christmas was only a few days away. And I was about to begin an adventure I'd dreamed of for years: a cruise from Singapore to some of Indonesia's most exotic ports: Java, Bali and Borneo. But I wasn't the least bit excited. The previous Christmas had been miserable. I was mourning the death of my husband, who had died six months before, when I was only 51.

"Next year I'm determined to do something different," I told my sister and mother as we faced the holidays together. And so I laid plans for a cruise with an exotic itinerary, envisioning that Bali on Christmas Day would be all the "Holiday Treasures of the Orient" brochure promised: "...an enchanted paradise, fragrant with flowers, lush with tropical fruits and blue-green mountain terraces..."

And if Bali failed to live up to its glorious reputation, well, other adventures were waiting in the South China and Sulu seas. In Java, the world's largest Buddhist temple would rise dramatically from the dense rainforest. In Borneo, I pictured myself rafting through verdant jungle bush, the invited guest of the inhabitants of a communal "long house" along the riverbank.

Now, however, I seriously questioned the wisdom of my decision. In fact, I had no idea what to expect of this holiday voyage. Two forebodings began to grow. I dreaded the confining 24-hour flight to Singapore. And, I thought, being one of many widows aboard the ship might cause me to dwell on my loss, making the holiday season even more depressing than the previous one. I was so conflicted on the foggy morning of my departure that I didn't even bother to finish packing. To make matters worse, at about noon, the thickening fog threatened to cancel my connecting flight to San Francisco, where I was to meet a woman friend from Florida who would be my cabin mate. Suddenly snapping to, I frantically secured the one remaining seat on the only shuttle bus to the city and finished packing my bags. I barely made the flight.

At first, the various in-flight activities filled the time quite nicely. But, as I'd feared, the remaining hours became almost unbearable. In an attempt to relieve my aching leg muscles, I stretched and turned around to see how others were faring.

Directly behind me sat a distinguished-looking stranger in his 60's, a gentleman with smiling eyes. We chatted for a few minutes. We were heading to the same ship. His spouse had also passed away two summers ago, I learned.

I teased him good-naturedly about all the women who would soon assail him aboard ship. (At least I had the good sense not to seek romance at sea!)

A few days later, from the tour bus window in Java, I spotted the tall, handsome widower I'd met on the plane. No ladies were at his side. Maybe he was shy.

Celebrations aboard ship that evening were low-key at first: a Christmas tree on each deck and a holiday menu. Then, what a nice surprise: The pleasant man who sat behind me on the plane asked me to join him for a drink before dinner. Later, we met to watch a delightful Christmas musical together.

The next day it was full steam ahead to the island of Borneo, called "Land Below the Wind" because the island is just south of the typhoon belt. Then the final two days of our voyage--north to Hong Kong on the notoriously choppy South China Sea.

Fortunately, Christmas at sea

se, fragrant with flowers, lush with tropical fruits and blue-green mountain terraces..."

And if Bali failed to live up to its glorious reputation, well, other adventures were waiting in the South China and Sulu seas. In Java, the world's largest Buddhist temple would rise dramatically from the dense rainforest. In Borneo, I pictured myself rafting through verdant jungle bush, the invited guest of the inhabitants of a communal "long house" along the riverbank.

Now, however, I seriously questioned the wisdom of my decision. In fact, I had no idea what to expect of this holiday voyage. Two forebodings began to grow. I dreaded the confining 24-hour flight to Singapore. And, I thought, being one of many widows aboard the ship might cause me to dwell on my loss, making the holiday season even more depressing than the previous one. I was so conflicted on the foggy morning of my departure that I didn't even bother to finish packing. To make matters worse, at about noon, the thickening fog threatened to cancel my connecting flight to San Francisco, where I was to meet a woman friend from Florida who would be my cabin mate. Suddenly snapping to, I frantically secured the one remaining seat on the only shuttle bus to the city and finished packing my bags. I barely made the flight.

At first, the various in-flight activities filled the time quite nicely. But, as I'd feared, the remaining hours became almost unbearable. In an attempt to relieve my aching leg muscles, I stretched and turned around to see how others were faring.

Directly behind me sat a distinguished-looking stranger in his 60's, a gentleman with smiling eyes. We chatted for a few minutes. We were heading to the same ship. His spouse had also passed away two summers ago, I learned.

I teased him good-naturedly about all the women who would soon assail him aboard ship. (At least I had the good sense not to seek romance at sea!)

A few days later, from the tour bus window in Java, I spotted the tall, handsome widower I'd met on the plane. No ladies were at his side. Maybe he was shy.

Celebrations aboard ship that evening were low-key at first: a Christmas tree on each deck and a holiday menu. Then, what a nice surprise: The pleasant man who sat behind me on the plane asked me to join him for a drink before dinner. Later, we met to watch a delightful Christmas musical together.

The next day it was full steam ahead to the island of Borneo, called "Land Below the Wind" because the island is just south of the typhoon belt. Then the final two days of our voyage--north to Hong Kong on the notoriously choppy South China Sea.

Fortunately, Christmas at se

Singapore. And, I thought, being one of many widows aboard the ship might cause me to dwell on my loss, making the holiday season even more depressing than the previous one. I was so conflicted on the foggy morning of my departure that I didn't even bother to finish packing. To make matters worse, at about noon, the thickening fog threatened to cancel my connecting flight to San Francisco, where I was to meet a woman friend from Florida who would be my cabin mate. Suddenly snapping to, I frantically secured the one remaining seat on the only shuttle bus to the city and finished packing my bags. I barely made the flight.

At first, the various in-flight activities filled the time quite nicely. But, as I'd feared, the remaining hours became almost unbearable. In an attempt to relieve my aching leg muscles, I stretched and turned around to see how others were faring.

Directly behind me sat a distinguished-looking stranger in his 60's, a gentleman with smiling eyes. We chatted for a few minutes. We were heading to the same ship. His spouse had also passed away two summers ago, I learned.

I teased him good-naturedly about all the women who would soon assail him aboard ship. (At least I had the good sense not to seek romance at sea!)

A few days later, from the tour bus window in Java, I spotted the tall, handsome widower I'd met on the plane. No ladies were at his side. Maybe he was shy.

Celebrations aboard ship that evening were low-key at first: a Christmas tree on each deck and a holiday menu. Then, what a nice surprise: The pleasant man who sat behind me on the plane asked me to join him for a drink before dinner. Later, we met to watch a delightful Christmas musical together.

The next day it was full steam ahead to the island of Borneo, called "Land Below the Wind" because the island is just south of the typhoon belt. Then the final two days of our voyage--north to Hong Kong on the notoriously choppy South China Sea.

Fortunately, Christmas at se

es filled the time quite nicely. But, as I'd feared, the remaining hours became almost unbearable. In an attempt to relieve my aching leg muscles, I stretched and turned around to see how others were faring.

Directly behind me sat a distinguished-looking stranger in his 60's, a gentleman with smiling eyes. We chatted for a few minutes. We were heading to the same ship. His spouse had also passed away two summers ago, I learned.

I teased him good-naturedly about all the women who would soon assail him aboard ship. (At least I had the good sense not to seek romance at sea!)

A few days later, from the tour bus window in Java, I spotted the tall, handsome widower I'd met on the plane. No ladies were at his side. Maybe he was shy.

Celebrations aboard ship that evening were low-key at first: a Christmas tree on each deck and a holiday menu. Then, what a nice surprise: The pleasant man who sat behind me on the plane asked me to join him for a drink before dinner. Later, we met to watch a delightful Christmas musical together.

The next day it was full steam ahead to the island of Borneo, called "Land Below the Wind" because the island is just south of the typhoon belt. Then the final two days of our voyage--north to Hong Kong on the notoriously choppy South China Sea.

Fortunately, Christmas at se

me widower I'd met on the plane. No ladies were at his side. Maybe he was shy.

Celebrations aboard ship that evening were low-key at first: a Christmas tree on each deck and a holiday menu. Then, what a nice surprise: The pleasant man who sat behind me on the plane asked me to join him for a drink before dinner. Later, we met to watch a delightful Christmas musical together.

The next day it was full steam ahead to the island of Borneo, called "Land Below the Wind" because the island is just south of the typhoon belt. Then the final two days of our voyage--north to Hong Kong on the notoriously choppy South China Sea.

Fortunately, Christmas at sea was absolutely nothing like what I had imagined. It was not the ports of call that were the real "holiday treasures." The best gift was what I least expected: The man with the smiling eyes became my special traveling companion in the new year.

Together, we cruised in the eastern Mediterranean and sailed through the romantic isles of French Polynesia. This Christmas, we're off on a different adventure.