What’s it like living in an apartment on a residential yacht

When it comes to cruising on the high seas, the world is divided into three camps: Those who loathe it (I’m not friends with any of them), those who adore it (yours truly), and those who adore it so much that they happily fork out US$2 million (S$2.69 million) to USD$15 million for their very own apartment aboard The World – Residences at Sea just so they have the privilege of cruising around the world all year-long. Literally.

Now, I don’t normally get house-envy, but on a recent media tour of the 644-ft, 12-decked The World – when it was docked in Singapore for four days – I found myself giving serious thought to the possibility that so long as I continued to live in my tiny land-bound walk-up flat, I was not, to use Oprah’s wise words, being my true, authentic self.

There are just 165 apartments on board – a judicious mix of studios, 2- and 3-bedroom apartments, and 1- and 2-bedroom studio apartments ranging between 330 sq ft and a whopping 3,242 sq ft – which their owners are at complete liberty to furnish to their personal tastes.

The idea that I could bring my actual home with me on my travels struck a deep chord. No more horrid airplanes to catch, no crowded airports to sit in. No endless checking-in and checking-out of hotels. No taxi touts and long boring trips from airport to hotel.

It was a blissful thought made even more Nirvanic by the revelation that The World also features a fully equipped Pilates studio, physiotherapist, a vast gym with two full-time personal trainers and a full-sized Rebound Ace tennis court, alongside four restaurants, gourmet deli, cigar bar, a wine cellar of 17,000 bottles, and a full complement of reciprocal memberships to yacht and golf clubs around the world.

Somewhere on one of the decks is a helicopter pad. So there’s that, too.

In other words, if a luxury condominium and a luxury cruise liner has a love child, it would look and feel pretty much like The World. Billed as the world’s largest private residential yacht (and not a ship, though no one could quite explain to me what the difference is), it calls into a hundred ports each year, its itinerary decided by the captain and the residents three years in advance. And unlike a commercial cruise ship, The World stays in port for three to four days, the better for its well-heeled passengers to really get under the skin of the destination.

Residents – their average age clocking in at 64 – get on-board wherever and whenever they choose and then stay, on average, three to four months, though I imagine there’s a really hard-core contingent that stays all year and never leaves till The World goes into dry dock every three years for five weeks for maintenance and repair.

And given that the passengers are all owner-residents, it’s a given that life-long friendships will form, and a tight-knit community quickly coalesces as they sail together around the world. Which is not something anyone could say about a commercial cruise, no matter how luxurious the experience.

Most impressively, since it was launched in March 2002, the handsome, all-white ship – sorry, yacht – has sailed around the world about eight times at an average speed of ten knots (or 19kph). At least, that’s what I thought I heard. By the time the figure was announced, I was already frantically workshopping in my head just how I could get myself an apartment on-board.

I was dazzled by the itinerary to date. New Year’s Day began with an expedition to Antarctica; February brought Argentina and Brazil; March, South Africa and Mozambique; April, Kenya, Seychelles, Maldives, Sri Lanka and India; May, Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore.

For the year ahead, Vietnam, China, South Korea, Japan, Philippines, Australia and New Zealand and all their sun-speckled islands beckon before the ship turns eastwards toward the Americas where New Year’s Eve will be spent in Cabo San Lucas in Mexico.

If it’s not already clear, living and sailing on The World requires deep pockets. So deep, the lining reaches your ankles. During my tour, though it was never entirely clear what the yearly management fees are, a clue was provided when our tour guide disclosed that the minimum F&B spend is US$33,000. If the food bill is any indication, you’d need to be a trust fund kid or a retired tech mogul to get even a sniff at an appointment with The World’s sales team.

“That’s US$90 you have to spend every day. Just on food!” a fellow journalist whispered to me. “That’s a lot of mee-pok!’

“Shh!” I told her. “I’m still fantasising about living here.”

That evening, after I’d been seen off The World with smiles and waves, I went onto its website. One of the taglines suggests that the response to the question, ‘Where are you from?’ should be, ‘The World’. 

I’m practising my reply as we speak.