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Trip Jar note: This article contains an affiliate link. If you book through it, Trip Jar may earn a commission at no additional cost to you. Our opinions here come from our own seven-night stay in The Haven on Norwegian Prima.

There was a point about halfway through our Norwegian Prima cruise when I said something that pretty much created this entire article:

“I don’t know how I’d stay anywhere else.”

The problem is, around the same time, I was also wondering whether The Haven was really worth the premium.

That contradiction followed me through most of the week.

Jodie and I spent seven nights in a Haven Penthouse with Large Balcony, Suite 13910. By the end of the cruise, The Haven had become one of our favorite parts of the whole experience. It made embarkation easier, gave us somewhere quiet to escape the crowds, came with a concierge team that repeatedly made life simpler, and turned disembarkation into something almost absurdly easy. At the same time, there were things that left me scratching my head, especially at that price point.

So the answer to whether The Haven is worth it isn’t a clean yes or no.

It’s more like:

Yes, if the price is right and the things it does well are the things you actually care about.

What The Haven really buys you

Before this cruise, I thought of The Haven mostly as Norwegian’s premium ship-within-a-ship experience. Bigger rooms. Private restaurant. Private pool. Concierge. Butler. Priority access. Fancy stuff.

That description is true, but it misses the thing we ended up valuing most.

The Haven buys you less friction.

Cruise ships involve a surprising amount of waiting, standing, finding, asking, checking schedules, figuring out where you’re supposed to go and occasionally wondering why something that sounded simple suddenly feels like a scavenger hunt.

The Haven didn’t eliminate all of that, but it removed enough of it that we noticed.

Embarkation was the first example. Port Canaveral was a little chaotic when we arrived. Construction and pedestrian flow made things confusing, and even the Haven waiting area felt busier than I expected. Then boarding started, and almost immediately the stress dropped.

We were onboard around 10:40 in the morning, well ahead of the general boarding time we’d seen in our paperwork. From there, we were brought into The Haven, met the concierge team and started getting the week sorted out before much of the ship had really filled up.

That first Haven lunch wasn’t perfect. The burger gave me an early opportunity to complain, which is apparently one of my cruise hobbies. But the experience itself was exactly what I wanted from embarkation day.

Sit down. Order lunch. Have a drink. No buffet chaos. No wandering around with plates looking for a table.

I remember saying:

“Nice way to start out. A little less stressful than a buffet line.”

That ended up being one of the biggest themes of The Haven all week. You’re not only paying for nicer spaces. You’re paying to make the cruise easier.

Suite 13910 was very good, but the room alone wouldn’t sell me

Our Haven Penthouse was comfortable. The bed was extremely comfortable, the shower had great water pressure, there was plenty of storage, and we had more charging options than expected, including USB and USB-C. The Nespresso machine was a nice touch, and the balcony mattered more to us than I thought it would.

There’s something about stepping outside early in the morning, feeling that warm ocean air and watching the water go by that makes me question how I’d ever go back to an interior cabin.

The room wasn’t perfect. The bathroom shelving was weaker than I expected, the balcony furniture wasn’t especially comfortable for long periods, and the lighting controls made us feel like we’d accidentally booked a cabin designed by NASA.

At one point, we had a strip of light cutting across the room at night that became known as the racing stripe while we tried to figure out how to make the room stop glowing.

Eventually, we reached a peaceful coexistence with the technology.

But here’s the important part:

I wouldn’t pay Haven money for the room alone.

The suite was nice.

The value came from everything surrounding it.

The concierge team may have been the best Haven benefit

Cindy, Samir and Carlos became our problem-solvers.

Need to change dinner? Ask them.

Need to know where to meet for a show? Ask them.

Need help understanding how Haven access worked for an event? Ask them.

Need something shifted because plans changed? Ask them.

That doesn’t sound especially glamorous on paper, but in practice, it was one of the most useful parts of the whole experience.

Instead of heading to Guest Services or trying to decode an app that didn’t always make opening times and schedules as clear as I would have liked, we could walk over to the concierge desk and talk to someone who already understood the ship.

As the week went on, that became more valuable.

It’s one of those benefits that is hard to assign a dollar amount to until you don’t have it.

Then there was the Haven bar

This one is easier to value.

Apparently whatever Mark and Darwin cost Norwegian, they were worth it.

The Haven bar became one of our favorite places on the ship, largely because of them. They didn’t just pour whatever was printed on the menu. They listened, experimented, worked with infusions, adjusted sweetness and remembered what we liked.

By late in the cruise, if Mark and Darwin disappeared on break at the same time, we noticed.

At one point I basically decided that was unacceptable.

The running joke became:

“We only got one Darwin.”

Prima’s overall cocktail program impressed me, but The Haven bar made it personal. A private bar isn’t special just because fewer people are allowed in. It becomes special when the people behind it know you well enough that you stop having to explain what you like every time you sit down.

That mattered more than I expected.

The private space mattered even more

Our first day onboard, we mostly stayed inside the Haven bubble.

On the first sea day, we ventured out and really explored Prima.

That’s when I started understanding what we had actually paid for.

There were parts of the main ship that were loud, busy and packed with people. That’s not a criticism of the passengers. They paid for the cruise too, and apparently some of them were determined to use every square inch of the ship at the same time.

But after walking through a few of those areas, I remember thinking that if cruising felt like that all the time, I wasn’t sure cruising was really for me.

Then we’d go back upstairs.

Quiet bar.

Smaller crowd.

Pool.

Restaurant.

Somewhere to sit.

People who knew who we were.

That became our reset button.

And that’s where the best description I have for The Haven came from:

The Haven doesn’t replace the ship. It gives you an escape hatch from it.

We still ate around the ship, went to shows, visited bars, tried activities and explored Prima. We weren’t hiding in The Haven for seven days.

But it gave us somewhere to retreat when the rest of the ship started feeling like too much.

For the way Jodie and I travel, that may have been the single biggest benefit.

But The Haven isn’t magically empty

This is where the brochure fantasy needs a little reality.

The Haven is quieter.

It is not a private yacht.

There are still other passengers. There are still kids. And on a full sailing, the Haven pool and sundeck can still get crowded.

There was one afternoon when we went up expecting our usual quiet little refuge and found the pool area much busier than expected. Jodie especially wasn’t thrilled.

The pool itself isn’t huge. Shade can become valuable. Seating can fill.

If you’re imagining some adults-only country-club experience where everybody whispers and there’s a waiter polishing your sunglasses, adjust that expectation now.

We still appreciated it.

But The Haven is premium.

It is not magical.

The Haven Restaurant was good, but the menu got old

I liked The Haven Restaurant.

Some of the food was genuinely very good.

The wild mushroom consommé was excellent. The miso pork belly was very good. Jodie loved the harissa tomato preparation. The pistachio baklava cheesecake was good enough that I ordered it more than once.

And, bizarrely, some of the best steaks I had on the ship came from The Haven kitchen rather than the steakhouse.

By the final morning, I told the staff that the Haven filet we’d had earlier in the cruise and the basic breakfast New York strip were the two best steaks I’d eaten onboard.

Yes.

The breakfast steak beat Cagney’s.

Again.

But The Haven Restaurant had one major problem for us.

The menu barely changed.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner stayed essentially the same throughout our seven-night sailing. By the middle of the week, that started wearing on me.

At Haven prices, I’d really like to see two rotating dinner specials each night.

They don’t need to redesign the entire menu. Keep the same quality proteins and ingredients. Just change the preparation enough that Thursday doesn’t feel exactly like Tuesday.

The irony is that the food was good enough that I wanted to eat there more often.

The repetition is what pushed us elsewhere.

Butler service took me longer to understand

Jojit was our butler.

Eugene was our room steward.

And early in the week, I wasn’t entirely sure why we needed both.

That’s not criticism of Jojit. It’s more that from a guest’s perspective, the jobs can look like they overlap until you start using them.

Eugene handled the room and did a great job with it.

Jojit helped with Haven-specific service, room deliveries, food requests and coordination.

By the end of the cruise, we understood the difference much better and appreciated both of them more than we did on Day One.

Jojit became part of the personal service that made the week feel different.

Eugene became the guy who helped me find a vacuum when I realized we had packed enough clothes for a small deployment.

Naturally, I told him:

“I’m gonna start vacuuming the room to pay you for my cruise.”

Nothing says luxury like fighting compression bags on the last night.

Priority access mattered more than I expected

Getting on the ship was easier.

Getting off at ports was easier.

Having reserved or assisted access for entertainment helped.

But the final morning really sold me on this part of The Haven.

We finished breakfast, headed to the concierge area and asked when we could leave.

The answer was basically:

You’re ready?

Let’s go.

We were escorted toward the gangway, reached the priority luggage area around 8:05, found a porter and were back at the car around 8:17.

Roughly 20 to 25 minutes from the Haven concierge to the parking garage.

That’s a premium perk I care about.

I’m much less interested in a fancy pillow menu than I am in avoiding a long disembarkation line while dragging luggage around half-awake.

The Haven absolutely delivered there.

So what bothered me?

A few things.

The static restaurant menu was one.

The bigger one was the feeling that there were still premium areas and experiences sitting behind yet another charge.

Vibe Beach Club.

The thermal suite.

Other upgraded experiences around the ship.

I understand how cruise lines make money. Norwegian is not unique here.

But when you’re already paying a significant premium for The Haven, it feels a little strange to discover that another premium quiet area costs more money.

And another premium relaxation area costs more money.

At some point premium starts developing layers.

Premium.

Premium Plus.

Premium With Sprinkles.

The thermal suite bothered me most.

If The Haven is supposed to be Norwegian’s top ship-within-a-ship experience, including some thermal access, even limited access, would make the package feel more complete.

Instead, it became another decision about whether to spend more.

That doesn’t make The Haven bad.

It just affects the value equation.

Is The Haven good for couples?

For us, yes.

Very much so.

We’re not trying to turn every cruise into a nonstop party. We like talking to people, exploring, trying good food and having a good bar nearby, but we also like having somewhere quiet to disappear for a while.

The Haven gave us both.

That’s probably why it worked so well for us.

We could spend a few hours out in the ship, then come back to what we jokingly started treating as our safe place.

For someone who wants constant energy, packed pool decks and activities from breakfast until midnight, The Haven may not feel as transformational.

For someone who wants the big-ship options without having to live in big-ship chaos every minute, it makes a lot more sense.

Is The Haven worth the extra money?

Here’s the answer I’d give a friend:

At the right price, absolutely. At any price, no.

We’re not publishing what we paid because that’s our business, and because cabin pricing changes so dramatically between sailings that our number wouldn’t really tell you what your sailing is worth anyway.

What matters is the difference between a comparable regular cabin and The Haven on the sailing you’re actually looking at.

If that difference feels manageable and you value quieter spaces, concierge help, priority access, dedicated dining and more personalized service, I’d seriously consider it.

If upgrading to The Haven means skipping excursions you really want, worrying about the credit-card bill for months or spending money that could buy another whole vacation, take the balcony cabin.

You can still have a great cruise.

Luxury stops being relaxing pretty quickly when you’re financially pissed off about it.

When we shop another cruise, I’d compare the actual cabin prices instead of treating The Haven premium as automatically worth it. CruiseDirect is one of the places we use to compare current cruise pricing and cabin options before making that decision.

That’s the soft sell.

Because I’m not going to tell anybody they need The Haven.

Nobody needs it.

But I completely understand why people get spoiled by it.

Would we book The Haven again?

Yes.

That answer is actually much easier than the headline question.

Would we book The Haven again?

Absolutely.

Would we pay whatever Norwegian asked?

Absolutely not.

I’d shop the sailing, compare cabin categories, look at the premium and decide whether it made sense for that particular trip.

But there’s one problem.

Now we know what it’s like.

The quiet.

The bar.

The concierge.

The priority access.

The restaurant.

The people knowing who you are.

The ability to leave a packed section of the ship and disappear back upstairs.

That’s hard to unknow.

Somewhere around Day Six, while simultaneously questioning the value and loving the experience, I said:

“I don’t know how I’d stay anywhere else.”

And that’s probably the most accurate review of The Haven I can give you.

It was expensive enough to make me question it.

Good enough to spoil me.

And valuable enough that I’d absolutely consider doing it again.

On this random Monday, my Mom and Dad have to say goodbye to Abbie.

She’s been part of their home, their routine, their days, and honestly part of our family for so long that calling her “the dog” never really fit. Around here, she’s my four-legged fur sister.

Her health has reached the point where keeping her here would be for us, not for her. And there is a particular kind of pain in loving something enough to let it go when every selfish part of you wants one more day.

My parents are devastated.

I understand why.

Years ago, I had a boss say something after I lost a pet that I’ve never forgotten:

“Just buy another one and you’ll get over the one that passed.”

I remember thinking then that it was one of the dumbest things I had ever heard.

I still do.

You don’t replace a dog.

You don’t replace a cat.

You don’t replace any animal that has spent years quietly weaving itself into your life.

You may bring another one home someday. You may love that one just as much. Maybe even more in a different way.

But replacement isn’t really how love works.

I still think about pets I lost years ago.

Not every day.

Not with the same hurt.

But they’re still there.

A certain look.

A strange habit.

The sound of paws crossing the floor.

Where they slept.

How they somehow knew when you weren’t having a good day.

The ridiculous things they did that irritated you at the time and eventually became the exact things you missed.

That’s the part people who have never really loved an animal sometimes don’t understand.

Pets don’t occupy one little corner of our lives.

They get into everything.

They are there when we come home from work.

They sit with us through illnesses and arguments and holidays and ordinary Tuesday nights.

They watch kids grow up.

They move houses with us.

They are there through divorces, marriages, new jobs, bad news, celebrations, and all the little changes we barely notice while they’re happening.

And they ask for remarkably little in return.

Food.

A comfortable spot.

Maybe a walk.

And us.

Mostly us.

Then one day, after years of being part of the background of our lives, they’re gone.

And the house sounds different.

That may be one of the hardest parts.

The silence where something used to be.

I think grief has a strange relationship with memory.

At first, almost every memory hurts because it points directly at what you’ve lost.

Eventually, most of them soften.

You stop remembering only the last bad day.

You remember the good years that came before it.

The stupid things.

The funny things.

The routines you never realized were routines.

You start telling the stories again.

And somewhere in that process, the animal you lost becomes less connected to the ending and more connected to the life that came before it.

That’s what I hope eventually happens with Abbie.

Monday is going to hurt.

There is no clever way around that.

My Mom and Dad are going to walk into that day with a member of our family and come home without her.

But they are also giving her one final gift.

They are making the hard decision so she doesn’t have to keep hurting simply because saying goodbye hurts them.

There is a lot of love in that.

Maybe some of the purest kind.

The rear view mirror eventually fills with faces.

Some human.

Some with four legs and a tail.

We lose grandparents and parents and friends and pets, and somehow the memories all take their places behind us.

We don’t replace them.

We carry them.

And if we’re lucky, eventually the memories make us smile more often than they make us hurt.

Abbie will leave an empty spot in my parent’s house on Monday.

But she won’t leave an empty spot in their lives.

She already filled too much of it for that.

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Trip Jar note: This article contains an affiliate link. If you book through it, Trip Jar may earn a commission at no additional cost to you. As always, what follows is based on what Jodie and I actually experienced.

Seven nights aboard Norwegian Prima left me with a slightly inconvenient conclusion:

We really liked the ship.

We also have a list of things that annoyed the heck out of us.

Both can be true.

Jodie and I sailed Norwegian Prima from Port Canaveral September 20–27, staying in a Haven Penthouse with Large Balcony. Technically, this was my second Norwegian cruise, but the first one was more than 25 years ago. At that point, I think the statute of limitations has expired. For practical purposes, Prima felt like starting over with NCL.

Over the course of the week, we ate our way through The Haven Restaurant, Indulge Food Hall, Surfside, The Local and four specialty restaurants. We sampled enough cocktails to call it research without laughing too hard. We got lost more times than I care to admit, met some genuinely memorable people and somehow discovered that the best steak I ate on the ship was not served in the steakhouse.

Prima wasn’t perfect.

The food was inconsistent. Some of the extra charges irritated me. Parts of the ship could go from peaceful to oh crap, where did all these people come from? surprisingly fast.

But there was also a lot we loved.

And much of that came down to The Haven.

So, did we like Norwegian Prima?

Yes.

I wouldn’t call Prima the best ship we’ve ever sailed in every category. Based on our own past cruises, Norwegian didn’t beat MSC, Royal Caribbean or Margaritaville at Sea at everything.

But Prima gave us a very good week.

The ship is beautiful. The cocktail program was better than I expected. Some of the onboard experiences genuinely impressed us. The crew produced several of the best moments of the trip.

And The Haven changed the entire experience.

The easiest way I can describe it is this:

The Haven doesn’t replace Norwegian Prima. It gives you an escape hatch from it.

That became more valuable as the week went on.

The Haven spoiled us pretty quickly

On our first day, we mostly followed the advice we’d been given and stayed around The Haven.

That turned out to be smart.

Our suite was comfortable, the balcony gave us the kind of morning-ocean fix that makes me question how I’d ever go back to an interior cabin, and The Haven itself was generally calm.

Then came our first sea day.

We started really exploring the rest of Prima.

And suddenly The Haven made a whole lot more sense.

There were public areas that were loud, busy and packed with people. That’s not a criticism of the people. They paid for a cruise too, and apparently some of them were determined to use every square inch of it simultaneously.

But after walking through a few of those spaces, I remember thinking that if cruising felt like that all the time, I wasn’t sure I’d be much of a cruiser.

Then we’d head back upstairs.

Quiet bar.

Smaller crowd.

Pool.

Restaurant.

Somewhere to sit.

People who knew who we were.

The Haven became our reset button.

What did The Haven actually add?

The benefits that mattered most weren’t necessarily the flashy ones.

The concierge team was outstanding. Cindy, Samir and Carlos helped with restaurant changes, entertainment, logistics and all the little questions that come with learning a new ship.

Jojit, our butler, and Eugene, our room steward, took excellent care of us.

I started the cruise questioning exactly how useful a butler would be when you already have a room steward. I still think there is some overlap between the roles, but as the week went on, we got better at understanding what Jojit could help us with.

And Eugene may forever be remembered for helping me find a vacuum so I could compress the ridiculous amount of stuff we’d packed.

Nothing says luxury cruising quite like:

“I’m gonna start vacuuming the room to pay you for my cruise.”

The dedicated Haven elevators were also much more useful than they sound on a list of amenities.

And disembarkation may have been one of the best Haven benefits of all.

On our final morning, we went from the Haven concierge area, through priority luggage pickup and out to the car in roughly 20–25 minutes.

That was beautiful.

Our Haven Suite was very comfortable — with a few quirks

We stayed in Suite 13910.

The bed was extremely comfortable. The shower had great water pressure. We liked having the toilet separated from the rest of the bathroom, and there was plenty of storage.

There were also far more charging options than I’d expected, including USB and USB-C.

The balcony mattered more than I thought it would.

One morning I stepped outside into that warm ocean breeze and thought, Yep. This right here is why an interior cabin would be tough.

The balcony furniture, however, was apparently designed by someone who doesn’t enjoy sitting comfortably for extended periods.

The room lighting also required what felt like a minor engineering degree.

At one point, we had a strip of light cutting across the room at night that became known as the racing stripe. The curtain controls weren’t immediately intuitive either.

Prima is modern enough that occasionally it felt like the room was smarter than we were.

Eventually, we reached a peaceful coexistence.

Norwegian Prima’s food was all over the place

This is where the review gets complicated.

We had some very good food.

We had some okay food.

And we had food from specialty restaurants that made me wonder why we’d left the buffet.

The Haven Restaurant

The Haven Restaurant became our reliable fallback.

Breakfast was generally good. Dinner had some real winners, including a wild mushroom consommé, miso pork belly, a harissa tomato soup Jodie loved and a pistachio baklava cheesecake that we liked enough to order again.

Some of the steaks were also surprisingly good.

In fact, by the final morning, a basic Haven breakfast New York strip and an earlier Haven filet were the two best steaks we had on the ship.

Yes.

The breakfast steak beat the steakhouse.

We’ll get there.

The biggest problem with The Haven Restaurant was repetition.

The menus remained essentially the same throughout our sailing. When you’re paying a serious premium to stay in The Haven, I’d really like to see a couple of rotating entrées or specials every night.

The food can be good and still get boring.

That’s what happened.

Onda by Scarpetta

Onda was our first specialty dinner.

It was also our first major what the heck happened here? meal.

My mushroom polenta was fantastic.

Then things went downhill.

The pizza Jodie and I shared had almost no flavor. My Milanese mostly tasted like salt. Jodie’s spaghetti with red sauce was bland. Her New York strip was cooked around the right temperature but so dry she struggled to eat it.

And my seafood pasta tasted like I was licking the ocean floor.

Not fresh ocean breeze.

Not beautiful briny Mediterranean flavors.

Ocean floor.

Dessert and cocktails saved the ending.

My tiramisu was excellent. Jodie’s butterscotch budino was excellent. The drinks were among the better restaurant cocktails we had onboard.

But overall, Onda was a disappointment for us.

Los Lobos brought specialty dining back from the dead

Los Lobos was much better.

I had the mole chicken enchiladas. Jodie had the burrito rojo. We shared tableside guacamole and a few other starters.

The mole had actual depth. You could pick up the chocolate without feeling like someone had dumped Hershey’s syrup over chicken.

It was a very good meal.

Not life-changing Mexican food.

Not something I’m building a shrine to.

But we’d happily eat there again.

Then came Cagney’s

Cagney’s hurt.

Not emotionally. I’m okay.

But I had expectations.

My ribeye was ordered medium-rare and came out substantially more cooked than that. More importantly, it lacked flavor. I sent most of it back and declined another steak.

Jodie’s filet was closer to the temperature she requested, but it was tough and dry.

The service was very good.

Management responded exactly the way you’d want when a meal misses. This was not a service problem.

It was a steak problem.

And when the dedicated steakhouse loses to the Haven breakfast steak, there is a problem.

At one point I may have said Outback had more flavor.

Vacation Allen stands by that statement.

Food Republic finished strong

Then Food Republic showed up on the final night and complicated the whole dining story again.

It was easily our favorite specialty dinner of the cruise.

The small-plate format worked for us. We could try several things, share dishes and move on if something wasn’t our favorite.

The kimchi fried rice with steak was good. The potstickers were good. Some of the sauces were excellent. A chicken dish was slightly dry, and the bao buns we ordered never actually appeared, but by that point we were full enough that we told them not to bother.

The overall meal was fun.

Food Republic was the closest we came to leaving a specialty restaurant and saying:

Yep. That was worth it.

So our specialty dining experience ended up pretty straightforward.

Food Republic was our favorite. Los Lobos was very good. Onda and Cagney’s disappointed us.

Your meal could be completely different.

That’s four meals on one sailing, not a scientific evaluation of every Norwegian kitchen.

It’s simply what happened to us.

Don’t sleep on the buffet or Indulge Food Hall

One of the funniest parts of the week was how often supposedly less-premium food surprised us.

Surfside had a better breakfast than I expected, including several omelet stations that made getting eggs the way you actually wanted them pretty easy.

Then late in the cruise, Jodie tried red sauce from the lunch buffet and essentially concluded that somebody needed to carry a bowl of it downstairs to Onda and conduct a training seminar.

That’s not supposed to happen.

Indulge Food Hall was another part of Prima we enjoyed figuring out.

At lunch and dinner, you order from several different concepts on a tablet and dishes arrive as they’re ready.

The biggest thing we learned?

Don’t order half the building at once.

Order a couple of things.

Eat them.

Order more.

Some dishes were much better than others, but the concept itself was fun and gave us a chance to try things we might not have ordered as full entrées.

Breakfast works differently, more like separate food stations spread through the hall.

That initially confused us because we’d watched approximately 47,000 cruise videos before sailing and apparently managed to combine three different Norwegian ships into one imaginary vessel.

Which taught me another valuable lesson:

YouTube research is useful.

YouTube research can also make you stupid with confidence.

Prima knows how to make a drink

Food may have been inconsistent.

The bars were not.

Not every cocktail was great. We had a Mango Meltdown that looked far better than it tasted and eventually got described as drinking calories.

But Prima had the ingredients and bartenders to make some genuinely excellent drinks.

A smoked WhistlePig Old Fashioned was one of the best Old Fashioneds I’ve had anywhere, other than one memorable version made with black walnut bitters.

The Haven bar became one of our favorite places onboard largely because of Mark and Darwin.

Those two stood out.

They listened. They experimented. They worked with infusions. They weren’t afraid to make something that wasn’t simply printed on a menu.

By the end of the week, if Mark and Darwin disappeared on break at the same time, we noticed.

That’s probably the highest compliment I can give a bartender.

Compared with our MSC Seashore experience, I’d give Prima the edge in cocktail variety, premium spirits and experimentation.

MSC still gets the nod from us for fresh juices and espresso-based drinks.

Prima wins cocktails.

Some of our favorite moments had nothing to do with food

Norwegian’s Military Appreciation gathering was one of the most memorable experiences of the week.

I’m saving most of that story for another article because it deserves more than a paragraph buried in a ship review.

But NCL put real effort into it.

Veterans were recognized. Spouses and partners were recognized. There was a Missing Man Table, a moment of silence, branch photos, senior officers and opportunities for veterans from several countries to meet and talk.

Jodie served in the Army.

I served in the Air Force.

It meant something to us.

We also had fun at 80s rock trivia despite discovering that apparently I can know every word to a song while having absolutely no idea who sings it.

Travel keeps you humble.

Prima can be confusing

We got lost.

A lot.

Even several days into the cruise, we’d occasionally have some version of:

Are we forward or aft?

I don’t know.

Didn’t we just come from there?

Probably.

The ship isn’t impossible to navigate, but some areas don’t flow naturally from one another.

Interactive screens helped.

Eventually we learned it.

But Prima isn’t the easiest ship we’ve ever figured out.

And yes, the add-ons started bothering me

Some of this is normal cruise-industry stuff, and Norwegian certainly isn’t alone.

But there are still things that cost extra after you’ve already paid for the cruise.

Vibe Beach Club.

Thermal Suite access.

Certain activities and experiences.

Upgraded dining and beverage options.

At regular cabin pricing, that’s one conversation.

When you’re already paying the significant premium for The Haven, there were moments when another extra charge appeared and I found myself thinking:

Really? That isn’t included either?

That was especially true with the thermal suite and Vibe.

I’m going to dig much deeper into that when we write specifically about whether The Haven is worth it.

Was Norwegian Prima crowded?

Sometimes.

And that distinction matters.

The Haven was generally calm.

Some public areas absolutely were not.

Sea days were when we noticed the contrast most. Around the main pool and some popular public areas, the number of people, noise and kids could become a lot for us.

That doesn’t mean Norwegian Prima is universally overcrowded.

It means our experience of Prima depended heavily on where we were standing.

One minute we’d be in a packed public area wondering if cruising was really our thing.

Ten minutes later, we’d be sitting in The Haven with a drink wondering how we’d ever cruise without it.

That’s Prima in a nutshell for us.

Would we sail Norwegian Prima again?

Absolutely.

That part is easy.

The harder question is whether we’d pay whatever The Haven costs on any particular sailing.

That’s different.

The Haven came at a serious premium for us, and whether it’s worth that premium depends heavily on the fare you find.

It made our cruise significantly better.

No question.

We loved the quieter space, concierge team, Haven bar, priority access, room, easy embarkation and almost ridiculously easy disembarkation.

By the end of the trip, I remember thinking:

I don’t know how I’d stay anywhere else.

The problem is that enjoying something and deciding it’s worth any price are two very different things.

So yes, I’d absolutely sail Prima again.

I’d absolutely stay in The Haven again at the right price.

And I’d comparison-shop the heck out of it before handing anybody my credit card.

If you’re shopping a Prima sailing yourself, CruiseDirect is one of the places you can use to compare current cruise pricing and cabin options. https://www.tkqlhce.com/click-101809238-17001361

One link.

No flashing neon arrow.

No “BOOK NOW BEFORE MIDNIGHT OR YOUR FAMILY WILL NEVER LOVE YOU AGAIN.”

Just another place to compare the numbers.

Our final Norwegian Prima verdict

Prima gave us a very good week, but the ship’s strongest asset wasn’t its specialty restaurants, racetrack or shiny new hardware.

It was the people.

Cindy, Samir and Carlos at the Haven concierge desk.

Jojit.

Eugene.

Mark and Darwin behind the bar.

Saurabh.

And plenty of others whose names we probably failed to write down.

The food had highs and lows.

The layout occasionally made us question our sense of direction.

Some of the add-on pricing irritated me.

And I’d still like somebody at Norwegian to explain how the breakfast steak managed to beat the steakhouse.

But we laughed a lot.

We ate too much.

We met people we wouldn’t have otherwise met.

We saw places we’d never seen.

And occasionally we discovered that you need a vacation from your vacation.

On Sunday morning, we walked off Prima, grabbed our luggage and reached the car almost absurdly fast.

And just like that, the trip was over.

Not long afterward, the subject of another cruise came up.

Jodie’s answer?

“Not yet. I’m already looking.”

That probably tells you more about our Norwegian Prima cruise than any star rating ever could.

Gettripjar.com

Jodie and I have been to St. Augustine enough times to know how quickly a day there can get expensive. A ticket here, a tour there, lunch somewhere you wandered into because you were hungry and it was close. By dinner, you’ve spent real money without quite knowing where it went.

On our last trip, we slowed down and paid attention to places we might once have walked past. Some gave us a break from the heat. Some gave us a better understanding of the city. A few simply gave us somewhere good to sit.

Here’s where I’d start if a friend asked us for a St. Augustine day that didn’t require buying a ticket every couple of hours.

Start at the Visitor Information Center. Yes, really.

I know. “Go to the visitor center” sounds like advice from someone who has run out of ideas.

But St. Augustine’s Visitor Information Center is a useful first stop. There are exhibits to look through, local items to browse, clean restrooms, and air conditioning. In July, Jodie and I were especially grateful for that last one. The city uses the space for changing exhibits, so it’s worth looking around before heading back out.

Summer changes how you visit St. Augustine. The historic district invites you to keep walking, and you may not notice how hot and tired you are until you’re well past needing a break. Stop for water. Step inside somewhere cool. Nobody hands out an award for seeing the whole city while mildly dehydrated.

Walk until something makes you stop

The streets themselves are part of the trip. We like taking our time through the historic district, along the bayfront, and down streets that look interesting even when we have no particular destination in mind.

That’s when St. Augustine works best for us. You notice a courtyard, a building you’ve passed before without really seeing it, or a place you want to return to later. You can spend a good stretch of the day that way without spending anything.

Keep the walking realistic if you visit in the summer. We recommend the trolley for covering more ground, but it is a paid attraction. The city also runs the free STAR Circulator downtown; check its current stops if you’d like to spare your feet for part of the day.

Step into the churches and shrines

St. Augustine’s religious sites tell more than one version of the city’s history. On this trip, we made time for the Cathedral Basilica, Mission Nombre de Dios and the Great Cross, St. Photios Greek Orthodox National Shrine, Trinity Parish, and Memorial Presbyterian.

You don’t have to be making a religious pilgrimage to find them worthwhile. They give you a sense of the people and communities who shaped this place. The Great Cross also gives you room to pause, which can be surprisingly welcome after the busier streets.

Treat these as places people still use and care for. Check visiting hours before you go, be respectful of services, and leave a donation where appropriate.

Father Miguel O’Reilly House Museum is another small stop worth checking. Admission is free, with donations appreciated; its exhibits cover the house and the Sisters of St. Joseph’s history in St. Augustine. Confirm its open hours before building a day around it.

Give Fort Mose the time it deserves

If your St. Augustine visit consists only of the Castillo and St. George Street, you’ll miss a major part of the story.

Fort Mose preserves the history of the first legally sanctioned free African settlement in what would become the United States. Its self-guided Flight to Freedom trail helps tell the story of people who escaped enslavement and made their way to Spanish Florida. There’s also a boardwalk and a place to take in the landscape. This is a stop to walk and learn, not one to rush through on the way to the next photo.

The park grounds are free. The visitor center museum currently charges $2 per adult, and the reconstructed fort opens for tours and scheduled events. Check the park’s hours if seeing either of those is important to you.

Choose your museums carefully

Some of the best small stops in St. Augustine are easy to miss. The free galleries at the Governor’s House are worth considering if you’re already near the plaza. We also found ourselves drawn to the city’s civil-rights history, which deserves more attention than it gets in the usual weekend itinerary. The ACCORD Civil Rights Museum offers free admission by appointment, so that one takes a little planning.

One useful correction before you plan: the Surf Culture and History Museum is at the Oldest House Museum Complex, and admission is included with the paid Oldest House ticket. We found it interesting, but it does not belong on a list of free museums.

That’s how I’d approach an inexpensive day here: pick the free stops that genuinely interest you, and pay for a museum when its story is one you want to spend time with.

Take lunch outside

You do not need a reservation for every good meal memory. Get sandwiches, find a place to sit near the Castillo and the bayfront, and let lunch be lunch instead of another expensive event on the itinerary. We’ve talked about Drake’s as a good sandwich stop for that kind of plan.

You can enjoy the view and walk the grounds outside the Castillo without buying an entrance ticket. Going inside the fort is a separate paid visit; the National Park Service currently lists adult admission at $15, with children 15 and under free.

Bring water, and take your trash with you. That’s the entire complicated picnic strategy.

See whether a market fits your day

A market gives you another reason to venture beyond the same few downtown blocks. Browsing is free, and you can decide for yourself whether a snack or something from a local vendor belongs in the budget.

The Wednesday Pier Farmers Market runs at St. Augustine Beach Pier Park, with shorter morning hours from May through October. The Saturday farmers market at the St. Augustine Amphitheatre is another option to check when planning. Market schedules can change, so verify one before you make the drive.

We had also noted a Vilano market while collecting trip ideas, but its status appears to have changed. I’d leave that one off a firm itinerary unless you confirm an event for your travel dates.

Spend where it matters to you

I’m not suggesting you go to St. Augustine and refuse to pay for anything. Jodie and I enjoy its restaurants, bars, shops, and paid attractions. We’ll happily spend money on the experiences we’re excited about.

We’ve also learned that a full day doesn’t need to be a stack of admission receipts. A walk, a small museum, Fort Mose, a quiet church, a market, and sandwiches with a view can leave us with plenty to talk about on the way home.

Sometimes the least expensive parts of St. Augustine give us the best reason to come back.

Planning note: Admission, hours, and market schedules were checked for this article in September 2026. Check the linked venues again before you go.

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Picking a place to stay in Savannah is not just a matter of deciding how far you want to walk. Your hotel can change the entire feel of the trip.

Jodie and I have been to Savannah more times than we can count, and we have learned that there is no single “Savannah experience.” You can spend the night surrounded by old brick and tall windows, come downstairs to a lobby full of fossils and minerals, trade records from a hotel library, or climb into a soaking tub inside a former church bell tower.

Those are not minor differences.

These four properties have earned a place in our Savannah notes for four completely different reasons. This is not a ranking, and I am not going to pretend that one is the best choice for everybody. The better question is: What kind of Savannah trip are you trying to have?

The Alida: Modern Savannah with a little personality

The Alida sits near Factors Walk and the west end of River Street, close enough to put the riverfront outside your door without making the hotel feel like another piece of old Savannah dressed up for tourists.

The building itself is modern—it opened in 2018—but the name connects it to the woman often described as one of the pioneers of Savannah’s preservation movement. Alida Harper Fowlkes bought and restored historic properties long before preservation became part of Savannah’s identity. Her former home on Orleans Square is now the Harper Fowlkes House.

I like that connection. Savannah would not look like Savannah today if people had not fought to save it, and the hotel named for one of those people does not try to imitate an 1800s inn. It gives you the modern version of the city instead.

We were upgraded to a corner room with a built-in bar area that practically begged you to attempt a little in-room mixology. Each room has a record player, and guests can swap albums from the hotel’s record library downstairs. That was one of our favorite touches because it felt like somebody had actually thought about the room instead of just picking a color palette and calling it “boutique.”

The details kept going: sparkling water on tap in the hallway, fresh fruit on the floor, and two very different bars without leaving the property. The Trade Room downstairs is the more polished cocktail-lounge option. The Lost Square is the rooftop bar, with wide river views and clear yurt-style tents during cooler weather.

The Alida is the choice for someone who wants a comfortable, modern hotel, good drinks, riverfront access, and enough personality to remember where they stayed. If your Savannah fantasy requires antique furniture, creaking floors, and the possibility that a ghost has opinions about your luggage, this is not that hotel.

That is not a criticism. Sometimes you want the history outside and a very comfortable bed inside.

Best for: Couples, cocktail people, riverfront walkers, and travelers who like boutique hotels but still want full hotel service.

JW Marriott Plant Riverside: Savannah turned all the way up

A short walk from The Alida, the JW Marriott Savannah Plant Riverside occupies the site of Savannah’s former riverside power plant. The original plant dates to 1912 and was decommissioned in 2005. During redevelopment, its brick exterior and twin smokestacks were preserved rather than erased, turning a piece of the city’s industrial past into the centerpiece of the Plant Riverside District. The rehabilitation later received statewide preservation recognition from the Georgia Trust for Historic Preservation.

That sounds tasteful and restrained.

The inside is not restrained.

There are dinosaur fossils, enormous minerals, artwork, dramatic lighting, restaurants, bars, live music, and enough visual distraction to keep you wandering through the property long after you meant to leave. It feels like a luxury hotel, a museum, and an entertainment district got together and decided subtlety was overrated.

The hotel is not relying on the lobby alone. Baobab Lounge has African-inspired décor, taxidermy, and creative smoked cocktails that make ordering a drink feel like part of the show. At Turbine Market, the campfire hash bowl—with sweet potatoes, smoked sausage, Aleppo pepper, and chimichurri—was the kind of breakfast that could carry you through several miles of Savannah walking.

Stone & Webster Chophouse is still on our list, so I am not going to recommend a steak I have not eaten. I know. A travel writer admitting he has not tried something. The internet may never recover.

The JW is the easiest of these four choices if you want the hotel itself to be one of the attractions. A family could spend time looking at the fossils and minerals. Adults can move from dinner to cocktails to live music without figuring out another ride. Even if somebody in the group wants to call it a night, the rest of the evening is still downstairs.

The flip side is obvious: this is not the quiet little inn where the desk clerk remembers which chair you like. It is big, busy, and intentionally theatrical. For some trips, that is exactly the point.

Best for: Travelers who want luxury, activity, restaurants, drinks, and entertainment in one place—and anyone who believes a hotel lobby could use more dinosaurs.

East Bay Inn: The history is in the building

East Bay Inn gives you the version of Savannah many first-time visitors picture before they arrive: old brick, tall ceilings, enormous curtained windows, and rooms that feel connected to the city rather than dropped into it.

The building was constructed beginning in 1852 as a warehouse near the working waterfront. Its cast-iron façade and some interior columns remain. Its history also deserves more than the soft-focus version. This was part of Savannah’s cotton economy, an industry built through enslaved labor. The inn’s own history of the building acknowledges that directly. Later occupants included a steam bakery, foreign consuls, a lodge hall, and the Columbia Drug Company before the vacant structure was restored as a 28-room inn in the 1980s.

You do not need to know all of that to enjoy the room, but knowing it adds weight to the stay. Savannah’s history is beautiful, complicated, and sometimes ugly. A good historic property should make room for the whole story.

Our experience at East Bay Inn felt much more intimate than the riverfront resorts. The lobby and rooms kept the building’s character. Our room had those floor-to-ceiling curtained windows and one of those beds you continue talking about after the trip. The staff was warm, the morning coffee was fresh, and Tandem Coffee & Spirits downstairs made the transition from coffee in the morning to something stronger in the afternoon very convenient.

Then there was the parking.

When we stayed, East Bay had its own parking, which in downtown Savannah felt roughly equivalent to discovering the room came with a winning lottery ticket. The inn still advertises guest parking, but arrangements and fees are exactly the sort of thing I would confirm directly before arriving. Savannah is wonderfully walkable after the car is parked. The “after” is the important part.

East Bay is for the traveler who wants to feel the age of the city in the place where they sleep without giving up the practical parts of a hotel. It puts you close to River Street and the Historic District, but the hotel itself does not disappear from the trip.

Best for: First-time visitors, history lovers, travelers who want to walk most places, and anyone who would choose a gorgeous old room over a giant resort.

Sanctuary Place Inn: We slept in a church bell tower

This is the one people remember when we tell them about it.

Sanctuary Place Inn—now also called Sanctuary Place or Duffy Street Lofts—is in Savannah’s Victorian neighborhood south of Forsyth Park. The building began as an Episcopal chapel completed in 1889 and designed by Savannah architect Alfred S. Eichberg. It later served Greek Orthodox and Baptist congregations. Some of the memorial stained glass added during its years as Garvin’s Temple Baptist Church remains inside the converted lofts. The property’s own history is worth reading because the building did not simply stop being a church one day and become a clever Airbnb the next. Several communities left something behind.

Our unit had flagstone floors and beautiful hardwood stairs leading to the former choir loft, where our bedroom was located. It still had original beams and stained glass. There was a small fountain in the courtyard.

And there was a soaking tub inside the bell tower.

Not near the bell tower. Not under a photograph of a bell tower. Inside it.

That is the sort of detail even a very nice standard hotel cannot compete with.

The owners gave us a first-responder discount, which always finds a warm spot in both my heart and my wallet. More importantly, we added another night because we did not want to leave. You can say a property is unique, charming, memorable, or any of the other words that get thrown around travel writing until they are almost meaningless. Adding an extra night says it better.

Staying south of Forsyth also gives you a different Savannah. You are outside the busiest stretch of the North Historic District, closer to neighborhood places and the parts of the city where people actually live. You can still reach Forsyth and the familiar historic sights, but you return at night to something quieter and much stranger—in the best possible way.

This is not the choice for someone who wants a conventional front desk, room-service routine, or identical hotel rooms. It is for someone who wants the place they stayed to become one of the stories they tell about the trip.

Best for: Repeat Savannah visitors, architecture lovers, couples who want something genuinely unusual, and anybody who just read “bathtub in the bell tower” and immediately started checking dates.

So, which Savannah do you want?

If I were helping a friend choose, I would make it this simple:

• Choose The Alida if you want modern comfort, river views, good cocktails, and thoughtful boutique-hotel details.

• Choose the JW Marriott Plant Riverside if you want the hotel to double as an attraction and prefer plenty of food, drinks, music, and activity close at hand.

• Choose East Bay Inn if you want a genuinely historic building, a smaller hotel, and easy access to the traditional Historic District.

• Choose Sanctuary Place Inn if you want the most unusual stay and do not mind trading the standard hotel setup for a story you will probably tell for years.

We would not choose the same one for every Savannah trip. That is what makes these four useful. The Alida works for a polished couples’ weekend. The JW works when we want plenty happening around us. East Bay puts us directly into the city’s older bones. Sanctuary Place made us extend the trip.

There is no universal best hotel here. There are four very different doors into Savannah.

You just have to decide which version of the city you want waiting on the other side.

Photos: The Alida/FlightBridge, JW Marriott Plant Riverside/Campo Architects, East Bay Inn, and Sanctuary Place Inn.

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Travel has a strange way of carrying the past with it.

Sometimes you arrive somewhere new and, for no obvious reason, it reminds you of something from childhood. A smell. A hotel hallway. The sound of screen doors closing. Salt in the air. Rain hitting a window. A roadside diner that looks enough like one you remember that, for a second, you’re eight years old again.

Those are usually the easy ones.

The good memories come back almost like souvenirs you forgot you packed.

Family vacations. Long car rides. A place your parents took you. A beach you haven’t seen in decades. Something you ate once and somehow never forgot. You spend years assuming those memories belong to another time, and then travel puts something familiar in front of you and suddenly they aren’t quite so far away.

I like when that happens.

There are pieces of childhood I would happily visit again.

But there are other pieces I wouldn’t.

I think most people carry a few memories they would rather leave exactly where they are. Places connected to fear, sadness, anger, embarrassment, loss, or things that happened before we were old enough to understand them.

And sometimes travel brings those back too.

The interesting part is that we don’t return as the same person who left.

The building may still be there.

The road might look familiar.

The ocean still sounds like the ocean.

But we’re different.

And sometimes that gives us a chance to make a new memory in the same kind of place.

Not erase the old one.

I don’t think life works that neatly.

But maybe put something beside it.

A bad memory of a family trip can eventually sit next to a great one with your spouse.

A place that once felt lonely can become somewhere you laughed until your stomach hurt.

Something you associated with fear as a child can become part of a peaceful afternoon years later.

The old memory doesn’t disappear.

It just stops being the only one.

I think that may be one of travel’s quieter gifts.

Over a lifetime, we collect an enormous number of memories through the places we go. Some become stories we tell forever. Some are almost completely forgotten until a smell or a song brings them back. Some become photographs sitting in a box or buried somewhere in a phone.

And every once in a while, we get the chance to go back.

Maybe not to the exact same place.

Maybe just somewhere close enough to stir something.

Then we get to experience it again with different people, different circumstances, and a different version of ourselves.

There’s something comforting about that.

The rear view mirror doesn’t only show us where we’ve been.

Sometimes it gives us another look at something we thought was finished.

And every now and then, life gives us the chance to add a better ending.

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I’ve been coming to Tarpon Springs since I was a kid.

Which, at this point in my life, means I’ve apparently been coming here for a very long time.

Like a lot of Florida families, our version of Tarpon Springs usually meant the Sponge Docks. Walk Dodecanese Boulevard. Look at the boats. Look at the sponges. Go into a few shops. Eat something Greek. Maybe buy something we absolutely did not need.

Then head home.

So when Jodie and I drove up from Dunedin on this trip, I wasn’t exactly expecting Tarpon Springs to surprise me.

It did.

Not because the Sponge Docks had suddenly become something completely different. They haven’t.

It was because, for once, we slowed down enough to look past the version of Tarpon Springs I already knew.

And somewhere between an old memory of a cookie, a restaurant recommendation from a guy we had just met, and a conversation with a woman who clearly wasn’t interested in cutting corners, the place started feeling different.

The Tarpon Springs everybody knows

There are places in Florida where the history has mostly disappeared behind newer development.

Tarpon Springs isn’t one of them.

You can still stand along the waterfront and see boats piled high with natural sponges. There are sponge-diver statues, old boats, Greek signs, bakeries, markets and enough blue-and-white decoration to make sure nobody forgets where the cultural influence came from.

But the Greek connection here isn’t just decorating.

And, as I learned, the sponge town isn’t even the first version of Tarpon Springs.

Before the Greek sponge industry transformed the place, Tarpon Springs had already become a winter retreat for wealthy Northerners. The town incorporated in 1887, the Orange Belt Railway arrived that same year, and winter homes began appearing around Spring Bayou. Some of those old houses are still part of the city’s historic character today.

Then came the sponge industry.

Sponging had already begun locally, but the big change came in 1905 when Greek divers and new diving methods arrived. The historical marker we photographed in Greektown says roughly 500 Greek men arrived by the end of that year. Within a few years, around 100 sponge boats were operating and as many as 1,000 Greeks were working in Florida waters or businesses connected to the trade.

It changed Tarpon Springs so much that the city’s own historic survey describes sponge warehouses, packing plants and wholesale businesses overtaking the tourist hotels that had defined the earlier resort town.

That history is still sitting right there along the water.

And once you know a little of it, those boats stop looking like props for tourists.

They become part of the story.

Some things haven’t changed

One of the first places we wandered into brought back a memory I hadn’t thought about in years.

My mother used to buy Greek cookies here when I was little.

I could picture them better than I could describe them — little loaf-shaped cookies, slightly sweet, maybe almond flavored.

So naturally I stood at a bakery counter attempting to explain a cookie from my childhood to a woman who had absolutely no responsibility for solving this mystery.

We got close.

Maybe.

Then the process of figuring out which cookies were available, which could be mixed together and exactly how they were sold became complicated enough that I finally decided I didn’t need a cookie that badly.

Jodie and I walked back outside.

Mystery unsolved.

But I liked the fact that the memory was still there.

That’s one of the strange things about going back to places you knew as a kid. Sometimes you aren’t really looking for a building or a restaurant.

You’re looking for the feeling you remember having there.

Then there was Niko’s

A day earlier in Dunedin, we had met a local real estate agent named Eamon.

At some point, because this is apparently what I do to anyone willing to have a conversation with me, I asked him where we should eat.

Specifically:

Where’s the best Greek food in Tarpon Springs?

His answer was Niko’s Grill House.

So we went.

And this is where our day changed.

Niko’s isn’t memorable because someone designed it to be Instagrammable.

It was memorable because almost immediately it felt like somebody actually cared about what was coming out of the kitchen.

Cristo was our server, and we started with tirokafteri — a spicy feta spread served with seasoned toasted bread.

Good start.

Very good start.

I ordered the pork gyro platter but asked for it deconstructed instead of wrapped up as a sandwich. They let me swap the fries for Greek oven potatoes.

Jodie went with the Tarpon Springs Greek salad.

And yes, if you’ve never had a Greek salad in this part of Florida, there is potato salad hiding underneath it.

Don’t fight it.

Just accept that this is how things work here.

Although, it turns out there is actually a story behind that too.

The Pappas family traces the Tarpon Springs tradition of putting potato salad beneath a Greek salad back about a century. Louis Pappas later opened the Riverside Café in Tarpon Springs in 1925, and his version of the salad became one of those regional food traditions that spread well beyond one restaurant.

Which means even the thing I had mostly accepted as, “Yeah, that’s just how Greek salads come over here,” had a piece of Tarpon Springs history underneath it.

Literally.

The vegetables tasted incredibly fresh. The tomatoes actually tasted like tomatoes, which shouldn’t be remarkable but somehow is.

The pork gyro was fantastic.

I’d never had pork gyro meat like that before, and it was exactly what I wanted without knowing beforehand that it was exactly what I wanted.

The potatoes were lemony without being beaten to death with lemon. The portions were generous. The potato salad was simple and good.

But the food isn’t really what I remember most.

“If it isn’t right, I don’t serve it.”

The owner came over and started talking with us.

Then she kept talking.

And thankfully, so did we.

She talked about running a family restaurant, her son gradually taking on more responsibility, and the problem every person who has ever built something eventually faces:

How do you let somebody else take over when they don’t do it exactly the way you do?

She joked about wanting to retire.

Sort of.

She’d apparently be happy becoming the hostess and letting everyone else handle things.

Except she still sees things that aren’t being done the way she wants.

So retirement may be a work in progress.

I understood that more than I probably should.

What really caught my attention, though, was the way she talked about the food.

She told us she doesn’t give out the exact measurements for her recipes.

Employees may know what’s in something.

They don’t necessarily know how much.

Her reasoning was pretty simple: she doesn’t want someone learning everything in her kitchen and then taking it across the street.

Fair enough.

She also talked about ingredients.

She could substitute cheaper products.

She doesn’t.

She specifically mentioned using real Greek yogurt rather than replacing it with sour cream simply because sour cream costs less.

Her point wasn’t that what she serves is identical to sitting at a taverna in Athens.

Ingredients are different. Meat is different. Milk is different.

But she wants it to be as close as she can reasonably make it.

And then she said something that explained why I trusted the place almost immediately.

If she can’t make something properly, she’d rather not serve it.

Stuffed grape leaves were her example.

They’re labor intensive when they’re made the way she wants them made. Instead of buying premade ones and putting them on the menu every day, she’ll occasionally make them as a special when she has the time and the hands to do it correctly.

That’s the kind of stubbornness I appreciate.

What I didn’t know while we were sitting there was that there was more history behind what she was telling us.

Niko’s about page says Yvonne and Nick Fillis moved their family to Athens in 1993. Five years later they opened a 150-seat taverna there, and their son Sotiris later spent years learning meat cutting and Greek cooking while working between the restaurant and a local butcher shop. Yvonne and Sotiris eventually brought that experience to Tarpon Springs.

So when she talked about what food should taste like in Athens, she wasn’t reaching for a marketing line.

She had a pretty good basis for comparison.

Fresh means fresh

At one point we were talking about how fresh everything tasted.

She told us they cut things as they need them.

Not because that’s the easiest way to run a restaurant.

Because that’s how she wants the food served.

She also said she doesn’t recycle yesterday’s leftovers into tomorrow’s meals. Leftover food goes to staff and sometimes to people who need it.

Her attitude was basically:

You can eat leftovers at home.

You aren’t paying her to serve them to you.

Again, stubborn.

Again, I liked her immediately.

By the time she brought us watermelon at the end of the meal, Jodie and I had stopped feeling like we had just gone somewhere for lunch.

We’d had one of those travel experiences we always seem to remember more than the attractions we’re supposedly there to see.

We met somebody.

The tourist part is still worth seeing

After lunch we wandered around some more.

We photographed the boats and sponge-diver statue. We walked along the waterfront. We looked through shops filled with natural sponges, shells and Greek products.

And yes, some of the Sponge Docks are unapologetically touristy.

There’s even a giant shark hanging upside down.

Nobody is going to confuse that with an untouched Mediterranean fishing village.

But that’s okay.

Tourism has become part of the place too.

And the more I looked around, the more I realized that trying to decide whether the Sponge Docks are “authentic” or “touristy” is probably the wrong question.

They’re both.

The souvenir shops are real.

The giant shark is real.

And so are the boats, the sponge history, the churches, the restaurants and the Greek-American community that grew up around this waterfront.

Tarpon Springs itself recognizes both its historic downtown and Greektown as distinct historic areas, which says something about how many layers of the city are sitting practically on top of each other.

The trick is not stopping at the souvenir shops and assuming you’ve seen the whole place.

Walk a little farther.

Read the historical markers.

Look behind the shops.

Notice the working boats mixed in with everything built for visitors.

And when someone who knows the area tells you where they eat, listen.

It wasn’t Dunedin — and that’s the point

At one point Jodie and I were walking around and one of us said something along the lines of:

“This definitely isn’t Dunedin.”

It isn’t.

It isn’t Safety Harbor either.

Those places have their own personalities.

Tarpon Springs feels rougher around some of the edges. More commercial in some places, more working-class in others, and occasionally a little chaotic.

There are parts I like more than others.

That’s okay too.

Travel doesn’t require pretending every place is perfect.

What Tarpon Springs has is something a lot of Florida destinations have gradually lost:

A very specific identity.

The sponge boats belong here.

The Greek bakeries belong here.

The churches, markets, family restaurants and old stories belong here.

Even the giant upside-down shark somehow belongs here.

And the funny thing is, I still haven’t seen all of it.

The Tarpon Springs I knew growing up centered on the Sponge Docks.

But the older resort-town story still survives around Spring Bayou, where wealthy winter visitors were building homes before the sponge industry changed the city. Greektown tells another part of the story. Downtown tells another.

After coming here since childhood, I realized I had mostly been visiting the same few blocks and assuming I knew the town.

Turns out I knew my version of it.

That’s not quite the same thing.

Would we go back?

Absolutely.

I’d go back to Niko’s tomorrow.

There are more places I want to explore, more history I want to understand, and apparently a Greek cookie from somewhere in my childhood that I still need to identify.

I’m stubborn too.

I’ll find the damn thing eventually.

Trip Jar Takeaway: If you’re visiting Tarpon Springs, absolutely see the Sponge Docks. They’re famous for a reason. But don’t make the mistake of treating them like the entire city. Wander beyond the obvious stops, learn why the Greek community is here in the first place, and leave room in your day for the recommendation you didn’t plan.

Sometimes that’s where the trip actually happens.

Gettripjar.com

Downtown Dunedin gets most of the attention, and I understand why. It’s walkable, full of locally owned restaurants and shops, and has enough personality to keep you wandering for hours.

But there is another side of Dunedin that helps explain the place just as much.

You find it when you drive west toward the water.

And you find it again when you start noticing oranges painted on buildings all over town.

At first, those two things sound like they have nothing to do with each other.

They do.

Out Toward Honeymoon Island

One morning, Jodie and I headed out early toward the Dunedin Causeway and Honeymoon Island State Park.

Early was intentional.

August in Florida has a way of turning a pleasant walk into a character-building exercise by lunchtime, and I wanted pictures before the causeway filled up. The morning was already hot and strangely still, but there is something about driving out there before everything gets busy that changes the whole feel of it.

The road stretches west with St. Joseph Sound on either side, and suddenly downtown Dunedin feels much farther away than it actually is.

People fish from the causeway. Kayaks and paddleboards slide through the shallower water. Boats move out toward the Gulf. Beyond them sit the barrier islands that protect this stretch of coast.

That last part is easy to forget when you are looking at pretty water.

These islands are not just beaches somebody happened to build a road toward. They are constantly shifting pieces of Florida.

Honeymoon Island itself is a barrier island shaped by storms, currents, erosion and sand movement. In fact, Honeymoon and nearby Caladesi were once a single island known as Hog Island until the 1921 hurricane cut a pass between them.

Florida has been rearranging the furniture ever since.

Honeymoon Island Is More Than a Beach

We paid the entrance fee and headed into Honeymoon Island State Park, which sits just a couple of miles west of Dunedin.

The park has more than four miles of shoreline, but it also protects one of the remaining stands of virgin slash pine forest in the area. Ospreys, shorebirds, gopher tortoises and other wildlife all call the island home.

We stopped at the Rotary Centennial Nature Center, which turned out to be one of the more useful stops of the morning.

The nature center explains both Honeymoon and Caladesi, along with the wildlife, seagrass beds and ecology around them. There is also an elevated observation area looking across the sound, which gave us a better sense of what we were actually looking at instead of simply saying, “Well, that’s pretty water.”

And it was pretty water.

The morning was almost unnaturally still. We walked around, looked over the seagrass beds, took pictures and tried to convince ourselves we should walk farther.

We did not walk much farther.

I could pretend there was some environmental reason for that.

There wasn’t.

It was hot, and apparently we were lazy that morning.

I’m comfortable with that.

The Name “Honeymoon Island” Was Basically a Marketing Campaign

One of the things I like about travel is when the name of a place turns out to have a better story behind it than you expected.

Honeymoon Island qualifies.

In the late 1930s, businessman Clinton Washburn bought the island. According to Florida State Parks, he mentioned to a friend from Life magazine that it would make a great place for honeymooners. The idea turned into a publicity campaign, honeymoon cottages were built, and the first couples arrived in 1940. In total, 164 couples took part before World War II changed the island’s use.

So, yes.

Somewhere in the history of this beautiful Florida island was essentially a tourism marketing meeting.

As somebody currently building a travel business, I have to respect the commitment.

Caladesi Is Right There. Getting There Is the Interesting Part.

From Honeymoon Island, you are looking toward Caladesi Island State Park, which is one of the more undeveloped barrier islands left along this part of Florida’s Gulf Coast.

We did not make Caladesi a separate stop on this trip, and I’m not going to write as though we did.

But if you are planning your own Dunedin trip, you need to understand how the two islands fit together because visiting Caladesi is not as simple as driving across another bridge.

There isn’t one.

Caladesi is accessible by boat. For most visitors, the easiest way there is the Caladesi Connection ferry, which leaves from inside Honeymoon Island State Park. The ferry ride across St. Joseph Sound takes about 20 minutes, and the standard ticket allows up to a four-hour stay on the island. Private boats and kayaks are other ways to reach it.

As of this writing in 2026, ferry service has resumed after storm damage from Hurricane Helene affected parts of the park. Some marina services remain limited, so this is definitely one of those things I would check before showing up with an entire day planned around it.

The ferry currently departs from the docks at Honeymoon Island, with tickets purchased there rather than online. Schedules and prices can change, so I would use the ferry operator or Florida State Parks for the current information rather than relying on a six-month-old travel blog.

Including mine.

That seems fair.

Why Caladesi Is Different

Caladesi is what a lot of people picture when they imagine finding the quieter Florida beach that somehow everybody else missed.

Of course, everybody else knows about it too.

But being accessible only by water naturally keeps it different from beaches where you can pull into a giant parking lot and walk 100 yards to your umbrella.

Florida State Parks describes Caladesi as one of the few relatively untouched islands along the Gulf Coast. Visitors can walk its beaches, explore the interior trail, paddle through mangroves or just spend a few hours doing absolutely nothing.

That last option has become increasingly attractive to me.

We have discovered that Jodie and I are perfectly capable of taking a relaxing vacation and somehow turning it into a research assignment.

Take pictures.

Find the history.

Look at the menu.

Talk to the bartender.

Write this down.

Go check that.

By about two o’clock that afternoon, we had made ourselves a deal.

We were done driving around.

Jodie wanted the pool back at the Fenway.

And frankly, she was right.

Sometimes the most intelligent thing you can do on vacation is stop gathering material for an article about the vacation.

Then There Are the Oranges

Back in town, there is something else you start noticing once somebody points it out.

Oranges.

Painted oranges.

They show up on businesses, walls, doors and homes throughout Dunedin.

Some are small enough that you almost walk right past them. Others are incorporated into larger murals. Once you start looking, it becomes something of a scavenger hunt.

Naturally, I wanted to know why.

The answer turns out to be part history, part public art and part somebody deciding to do something slightly illegal before breakfast.

My kind of story.

The Night Dunedin Got “Fruited”

On April 13, 2009, local artists Steve Spathelf and Marsha Goins went around downtown Dunedin in the early morning hours and secretly painted oranges on seven locations.

They did not exactly go through the normal public-art permitting process first.

The oranges were inspired by vintage citrus-crate labels and Dunedin’s long relationship with the citrus industry. The reaction was apparently the exact opposite of what you might expect when people wake up and discover somebody has painted fruit on their buildings.

People loved them.

Businesses started asking for their own. Residents began looking for the oranges around town. What started as seven unauthorized little paintings turned into one of Dunedin’s most recognizable pieces of local identity.

The timing mattered too.

This was 2009, in the middle of the financial crisis, when businesses everywhere were struggling. The idea was partly about bringing attention to public art and partly about bringing people into downtown Dunedin.

It worked.

The Oranges Aren’t Random

The orange itself was not chosen simply because Florida grows oranges.

Dunedin had a significant citrus industry stretching from the town’s early years into the middle of the 20th century. The Dunedin History Museum still devotes an entire permanent exhibit to that history, including the Skinner family, citrus packing and the development of orange concentrate.

The railroad mattered too.

The Orange Belt Railway helped connect Dunedin to larger markets, making it easier to move citrus and helping the town grow. The old train depot now houses the Dunedin History Museum, and the former rail corridor eventually became part of the Pinellas Trail.

So when Spathelf began using images inspired by old orange-crate artwork, he was not inventing a theme for tourists.

He was pulling something out of Dunedin’s own past and putting it back on the walls.

The plaque we found around town told the story of Spathelf and Goins beginning the orange paintings during that rough economic period and of Spathelf eventually reaching 1,000 painted oranges.

At that point, I think you officially stop being the guy who painted some oranges.

You become the Orange Guy.

A Town That Doesn’t Take Itself Too Seriously

That is one of the things I ended up really liking about Dunedin.

The history is there, but the city doesn’t seem determined to present all of it from behind glass.

Sometimes the history is a museum exhibit.

Sometimes it is an old hotel where you can drink a martini.

Sometimes it is a former railroad line people now bicycle down.

And sometimes it is an orange painted on the side of somebody’s house.

There is something wonderfully unpretentious about that.

The oranges also tell you something about the way a place develops its personality.

Nobody sat in a boardroom and said, “What Dunedin needs is an official small-orange-on-buildings initiative.”

Two artists painted seven of them before sunrise.

People liked them.

So they kept going.

That feels a lot more authentic.

The Other Side of Dunedin

When people picture Dunedin, they often picture Main Street first.

The breweries.

Restaurants.

Shops.

Baseball.

Scottish flags.

And all of that belongs in the story.

But drive west and Dunedin becomes something else entirely.

The road crosses St. Joseph Sound toward a barrier island that has been reshaped by hurricanes and currents for generations. Beyond it sits another island you cannot even drive to. You have to leave the car behind, get on a ferry and cross the water.

Then you return downtown and notice a little orange painted on a wall.

And suddenly that has a story too.

That is what I liked about this trip.

The good parts kept having another layer underneath them.

Honeymoon Island was not just a beach.

Caladesi was not just another island on the horizon.

And those oranges definitely were not just decoration.

They are all pieces of a place that has figured out how to keep some of its old Florida history without acting like it belongs entirely in the past.

We came to Dunedin expecting good food, a nice hotel and a few days away.

We got all of that.

But the more we looked around, the more we realized the town was telling its story everywhere.

Sometimes in a nature center.

Sometimes across the water.

And sometimes painted on a wall in bright orange where you almost walked right past it.

Gettripjar.com

There are hotels you stay at because they’re convenient, and then there are hotels that somehow become part of the trip. The Fenway Hotel in Dunedin was definitely the second kind.

We booked it because we wanted to stay somewhere close to downtown, somewhere with some personality, and preferably somewhere that didn’t feel like every other hotel we’ve stayed in. What we got was a historic hotel overlooking St. Joseph Sound, live music downstairs, steaks and martinis at HEW, a rooftop bar, a pool we eventually remembered to use, and one of the best Florida sunsets we’ve seen in a while.

Not bad for a place we originally thought would mostly just be where we slept.

The Fenway Has Been Doing This for a Long Time

The Fenway isn’t a new hotel trying really hard to look old. It actually is old.

The hotel traces its roots to the 1920s Jazz Age, and today it operates as part of Marriott’s Autograph Collection. The property still leans heavily into that musical history, from the décor and live music to the names of the restaurants and bars.

Even the hotel’s history gets a little confusing depending on what source you’re looking at. Regional tourism material dates the building to 1924, while some of the historical material we saw on-site discusses the Fenway becoming Dunedin’s major resort later in the decade. Rather than pretending I can settle a century-old date argument from my laptop, the important part is this: the Fenway was part of Dunedin’s early resort era and became one of the places where people gathered, ate, drank and listened to music.

The hotel also had a connection to early radio in Pinellas County. Fenway’s own material says the rooftop area was once home to WGHB, an early local radio station, and the hotel continues to play up that broadcasting and musical history today.

What I liked is that none of this feels locked away behind a velvet rope. The history is everywhere — old photographs, newspaper clippings, musical references, a cymbal bearing the Fenway name, and a historical speakeasy door.

The whole place feels like somebody remembered that history is more interesting when you can still have a drink in the middle of it.

Our Stay Started Better Than Expected

We got to the Fenway much earlier than normal check-in time, and I figured we’d hand over the luggage, wander downtown for a couple of hours, and come back later. Instead, our room was ready.

That will immediately improve my opinion of almost any hotel.

Check-in was friendly, we were given the rundown on the restaurants, bars and live music, and then they offered us a welcome drink made with raspberry liqueur and champagne. We had been in the building for maybe five minutes.

Vacation officially started.

When we got upstairs, my first reaction was, “This is a big old room.” And it was. We had a good view toward the bay, a refrigerator, plenty of room to spread out and, waiting for us, a little Fenway welcome package.

There was a candle inspired by Dunedin’s citrus history, locally made popcorn, Fenway sunglasses, a small bottle of champagne and a welcome card. None of that is going to make or break a hotel stay, but it did something more important. It made the place feel like somebody had thought about us arriving.

Jodie summed it up perfectly:

“That’s cute. That’s a cute little welcome.”

Then we opened the champagne.

“To our vacation.”

More specifically, to the second part of it.

Location: Close Enough to Downtown, but Not in the Middle of It

The Fenway sits on Edgewater Drive overlooking St. Joseph Sound. Downtown Dunedin is close enough that walking is absolutely possible, and the hotel and regional tourism material both sell that walkability as one of the property’s advantages.

We did plenty of walking during the trip, although we’re also not going to pretend we abandoned the car for three days and lived some perfectly curated pedestrian vacation. We drove, especially when we wanted to explore the causeway and Honeymoon Island or when Florida reminded us that August is basically the surface of the sun with palm trees.

But having downtown nearby matters. You aren’t staying at an isolated beach resort where every meal has to happen inside the property. You can walk into town, explore, eat somewhere else, grab a drink, and come back.

Or you can do what we did on the first night and realize that one of the better dinners of the trip is already downstairs.

HEW Was Supposed to Be Dinner. It Became Part of the Story.

HEW Parlor & Chophouse is the Fenway’s signature restaurant. The name isn’t just somebody trying to make “hew” sound steakhouse-ish. It also comes from Herman Everett Wendell, the architect associated with the original Fenway. The hotel itself identifies HEW as Wendell’s namesake restaurant.

That’s a neat little connection, but history isn’t why I’d tell somebody to eat there.

The food is.

We almost talked ourselves out of dinner at HEW because we knew we had several other places we wanted to try around Dunedin. Then we realized the restaurant’s dinner schedule wasn’t going to line up with the rest of our stay.

So downstairs we went.

Good decision.

Let’s Start With the Drinks

Our server was Kaitlyn — or, as she jokingly became in my notes, Kaitlyn 2.0. She knew the menu, knew the steaks and, importantly, didn’t act annoyed while we asked entirely too many questions.

One of our cocktails was Dewey’s Purple Heart, which arrived with its own little potion bottle. That is the kind of completely unnecessary presentation that I love. It’s a drink. It doesn’t need a potion bottle.

Which is precisely why I’m glad it had one.

The Purple Heart cocktail also has a personal story behind it tied to people at the Fenway, although some of the details we heard varied depending on who was telling us the story. So rather than turn somebody else’s family history into an internet game of telephone, I’ll leave it at this: it wasn’t just a random cocktail name.

Then came the dirty martinis. We both like a proper dirty martini, and these were excellent. The blue-cheese olives were stuffed in-house instead of being those aggressively brined pre-stuffed things you sometimes get.

I bit into one and said:

“That might be the best blue-cheese stuffed olive I’ve ever had in my life.”

That’s admittedly a very specific award category.

Still counts.

The martini itself was dirty enough without having to ask for it extra dirty. Again, very specific standards around here.

The Pierogi That Wasn’t Really a Pierogi

We started with what the menu called a deconstructed pierogi. The presentation looked more like gnocchi with pierogi ingredients scattered throughout it.

Was it technically a pierogi? I have no idea.

Do I care? Not even a little.

Whatever they wanted to call it, it was outstanding. Ricotta, cheese, prosciutto and all kinds of rich, salty goodness were happening in there.

We both loved it.

This would become a theme.

Jodie Did Something Unexpected

Jodie almost always orders a filet. It’s her steak. She knows what she likes.

This time, after talking through the cuts with Kaitlyn, she went with the American Wagyu flat iron. That was a gamble.

It paid off.

The flat iron was remarkably tender and had more beef flavor than a typical filet. Later, Chef de Cuisine Sean came out and talked with us about it.

He explained that flat iron is normally a less expensive cut, but when you start with American Wagyu, you’re getting the marbling and tenderness without automatically jumping into the eye-watering price of some of the more famous steak cuts. Their source on that particular night was Linz, although Sean said sourcing can vary.

That conversation was one of the things I liked most about HEW. Nobody gave us a rehearsed speech about “our culinary journey.”

We were two people who enjoyed the meal, asked questions and wound up talking to the chef about meat.

That’s much more our speed.

I Had the Delmonico

I went with the Delmonico. Mine might have landed a little closer to medium than the medium-rare I ordered.

And because somebody will inevitably read that sentence and assume I’m about to demand the chef’s resignation:

Relax.

It was still a very good steak. Plenty of beef flavor. Good crust. I’d order it again.

A steak being a shade past where I ordered it doesn’t automatically transform dinner into a federal emergency.

Now We Need to Talk About the Mac and Cheese

The mashed potatoes were excellent. That deserves mentioning because restaurant mashed potatoes have an annoying tendency to arrive whipped into something with the texture of wallpaper paste.

These didn’t.

They still tasted like potatoes.

But the five-cheese mac and cheese was ridiculous. There was an actual cheese pull.

Sean explained some of the sauce preparation to us — essentially a Mornay-style cheese sauce — but what I actually wrote down was:

“That was ridiculous, man.”

That’s probably the more useful review.

Jodie makes very good mac and cheese herself, which means I’m usually fairly cautious about praising somebody else’s too enthusiastically within earshot.

This one was safe.

Very safe.

It Wasn’t Cheap

Dinner for the two of us wound up around $200 before the final tip, including steaks, appetizer, sides and a few cocktails.

So no, this is not my recommendation for, “Where can we grab a cheap bite in Dunedin?”

But we knew what kind of restaurant we were walking into. And unlike some expensive steakhouse meals we’ve had, I didn’t leave HEW wondering why we just spent that much money.

There is a difference between pricey and overpriced.

For us, HEW landed on the correct side of that line.

HEW Is Also Worth Knowing About for Brunch

We came back the next morning and discovered something I hadn’t really considered: HEW does a legitimate brunch.

Not a sad hotel buffet.

A real menu.

And it’s weird enough to be interesting.

One option immediately jumped out at me: Cheddar Biscuit & Gator Gravy.

Yes.

Gator gravy.

The biscuits were house-made, with the server comparing them somewhat to cheddar biscuits, and the gravy incorporated gator and andouille sausage.

I ordered my eggs over medium. This seems like a small thing, but somebody in that kitchen actually knows what “over medium” means.

No uncooked egg white.

Yolk still yellow.

Perfect.

The gravy and biscuit were rich and extremely filling. I wouldn’t have minded a little more heat, but it was good.

Jodie ordered the Sweet & Spicy Monte Cristo — ham, Swiss, Parmesan-crusted bread, hot honey and powdered sugar.

Her first reaction was basically, “This is definitely different.”

Followed quickly by, “This is really, really good.”

But something was missing.

Jam.

They brought out a house-made berry jam.

That did it.

“That’ll make it perfect.”

And it pretty much did.

HEW currently continues to offer brunch, including a Sunday jazz brunch, although restaurant hours and menus change, so I’d check the current schedule before planning a stay around a specific meal.

Then There Was the Bar Downstairs

One of the unexpected highlights wasn’t really a “thing to do” at all.

We sat at the bar. There was live music. We talked to Amy, the bartender.

And we stayed.

Amy knew cocktails, knew the hotel and knew the local food scene. Jodie ordered an espresso martini, and Amy made it using fresh espresso.

That sounds obvious.

Apparently it isn’t.

She explained that shaking the warm espresso over ice helps create the foam, versus versions made with cold brew or shortcuts. Jodie could taste the difference immediately.

It tasted like somebody had actually put some care into it.

I eventually got talked into a banana-and-rum old-fashioned-style drink. I am suspicious of banana-flavored anything because fake banana has a tendency to taste like somebody melted a yellow popsicle into cough medicine.

This didn’t.

It tasted almost like banana bread.

Dangerously good.

We also got restaurant recommendations, Dunedin stories and more information about the Fenway than we ever would have gotten from reading the little binder in the room.

Again:

Talk to people.

About That Speakeasy...

The Fenway’s history includes a Prohibition-era speakeasy story. There’s still an old door and historical display downstairs that immediately made me want to know what was behind it.

Unfortunately, not a speakeasy we could just walk into.

The hotel’s current Room 27 is a 1920s-inspired speakeasy experience associated with HEW, and the hotel says it operates for themed evenings and intimate events throughout the year. During our stay, it wasn’t available.

Amy also explained that the original historic speakeasy space itself is no longer functioning as the bar people might imagine when they see that old door.

So if you’re booking the Fenway specifically because you’re picturing yourself giving a secret knock and disappearing underground every night, check the current Room 27 schedule first.

I was a little disappointed.

I’m not going to lie.

I like a speakeasy.

But I would much rather tell you we couldn’t get into it than pretend every amenity advertised somewhere on the internet is automatically available every night of the year.

Hi-Fi Rooftop Bar

Eventually, you have to go upstairs.

The Hi-Fi Rooftop Bar sits at the top of the Fenway overlooking St. Joseph Sound, with views toward Honeymoon and Caladesi islands. Marriott currently lists it as serving cocktails, beer, wine and a smaller food menu.

We went up for sunset.

So did everybody else.

This is apparently not a secret.

The rooftop gets increasingly busy as sunset approaches, particularly along the rail facing the water. People take pictures. They move around. They grab their drinks.

Everybody waits.

Then the hotel does something wonderfully old-fashioned.

They count down the sunset.

At the end, somebody gets to hit the cymbals three times.

And somehow Jodie and I got asked if we wanted to do it.

Of course we did.

Except I had my camera in my hand, and she was recording video.

So we both basically said:

“No, you go ahead.”

Travel bloggers.

Asked to participate in the actual experience.

Too busy documenting the experience.

That pretty much sums up modern travel.

Rooftop Food: Good Burger, Questionable Truffle

We ate upstairs another night. I ordered the Black & Blue burger, truffle fries and fish dip. Jodie had the McHEW burger.

The burgers were good. My Black & Blue was exactly the kind of burger I expected: big beef flavor, gorgonzola, bacon, onion, greens and barbecue sauce.

The fish dip had a little smoke to it and was good enough that I’d order it again.

The truffle fries?

No.

Not bad fries.

Just not particularly truffley fries.

I wrote down:

“If you think you’re gonna get a truffle flavor in your truffle fries, you’re not. They just tasted like fries.”

I stand by that.

The rooftop food was perfectly enjoyable, but if you make me choose where to eat at the Fenway, I’m going downstairs to HEW.

And I’m ordering that damn mac and cheese again.

Then the Sky Started Doing This

The first night’s dinner ran long. We were full. Going back to the room sounded pretty good.

Then we looked outside.

The sky over St. Joseph Sound had turned orange, then gold, then pink. The palms became silhouettes, the light hit the water, and every few seconds the whole thing changed again.

We almost missed it.

That’s the part I keep coming back to.

We travel because we want to see beautiful places. Sometimes we spend hours on planes or cross oceans looking for them.

And then Florida does this about ten minutes from your dinner table.

The second night’s sunset was beautiful too, but the first one had storm clouds sitting in just the right places, and it was one of those skies you know isn’t going to repeat itself exactly the same way.

I took entirely too many pictures.

I’m not apologizing.

The Pool Eventually Won

One afternoon, after spending the better part of the day driving around, taking pictures, gathering information and generally turning our vacation into a work assignment, we came back to the Fenway.

Jodie wanted pool time.

And I realized something embarrassingly obvious.

We were staying at a nice hotel with a pool.

Maybe we should actually use it.

The Fenway has an outdoor pool for hotel guests, but what the website cannot tell you is how good it feels to finally stop doing things. It’s not some giant resort pool with waterslides and a DJ. It’s a smaller, comfortable pool area where you can actually relax, cool off, and have a cocktail nearby without feeling like you’re in the middle of an amusement park.

So we stopped.

No research.

No museum placards.

No restaurant scouting.

No “we should probably go see…”

Pool.

That was it.

At some point you have to stop researching the vacation and actually have the vacation.

The People Made a Difference

The Fenway is beautiful, HEW was excellent, and the rooftop view is hard to beat. But when I think about the stay, I also remember the people.

Kaitlyn patiently walked us through steaks. Sean came out to talk about the food. Amy made cocktails and gave us local recommendations. Adrian helped us more than once, and I eventually made him confirm his name because I’d already decided he was going into the blog.

That’s the part hotels sometimes underestimate.

You can spend millions renovating a historic building. You can put a rooftop bar on top. You can build a beautiful restaurant.

And one uninterested employee can still make the entire place feel cold.

The opposite happened here.

The Fenway felt lived in.

So, Would We Stay at the Fenway Again?

Yes.

Very easily.

But I don’t think it’s the right hotel for everybody.

If your priority is walking directly out of your room onto a Gulf beach, this isn’t that. If you want a giant resort with waterslides and 14 restaurants, this isn’t that either.

The Fenway makes more sense for somebody who wants Dunedin.

You want to be near downtown. You appreciate an old building. You like a good restaurant, cocktails and live music. You want a pool where you can relax with a drink. And when the day is over, you would rather walk upstairs and watch the sun disappear behind St. Joseph Sound than fight traffic back to some anonymous highway hotel.

That’s where the Fenway got us.

It wasn’t simply somewhere we stayed while visiting Dunedin.

It became one of the reasons we enjoyed Dunedin.

And then there was that sunset.

Yeah.

I’d stay again.

More from our Dunedin trip

The Fenway was our home base. For everything beyond the hotel, read our three days exploring Dunedin, then come along for Honeymoon Island, Caladesi planning tips and the story behind those painted oranges.

I’ve been thinking about something.

We spend a lot of time wondering about the roads we didn’t take. The job we didn’t accept. The place we didn’t move to. The relationship that ended. The opportunity we passed up. The trip we kept putting off.

It’s easy to look backward and convince ourselves that somewhere behind us was a better version of life waiting on a different decision. Maybe there was. Maybe there wasn’t.

That’s the problem with the roads we didn’t take. We get to imagine them without ever having to live with the potholes.

The path we chose is different.

We know every mistake. Every wrong turn. Every moment we wish we could do over. We know exactly where it let us down because we were actually there.

The other road gets to remain perfect in our imagination.

I think that’s why regret can be so convincing. It compares the messy reality of the life we lived with an imaginary version of the life we didn’t.

That isn’t a fair fight.

There are decisions I would make differently if I could go back. I suspect most of us have a few.

But changing one road changes everything that came after it. The people we met. The places we went. The families we built. The moments we never could have planned.

And somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to trade all of that for a version of life that only exists in my head.

The rear view mirror is useful for seeing where the road has taken us. It can even help us understand why we ended up where we are.

But there will always be another road disappearing somewhere behind us that we never got to travel.

I’m learning to be okay with that.

Because the road I took brought me here, and there are people standing beside me today that I wouldn’t trade for any road I missed.

Gettripjar.com

I’m starting to think some of the best Florida trips happen when we quit looking for the biggest attraction on the map.

Dunedin was one of those trips.

There wasn’t one giant, must-see thing that brought us here. No theme park. No massive resort complex. No attraction that required us to buy tickets six months in advance and schedule our bathroom breaks around an app.

We came because we were curious.

And after three days of walking, driving, eating, drinking, talking to people, chasing sunsets, taking entirely too many pictures and occasionally remembering that we were supposed to be on vacation, Dunedin turned out to be exactly the kind of Florida town we keep hoping to find.

It’s quirky without trying too hard to be quirky. Historic without feeling trapped in the past. There’s water everywhere, a legitimately walkable downtown, local restaurants and shops, public art, Scottish touches, beaches nearby and enough strange little details that we kept stopping every few minutes to take another picture.

And, apparently, oranges everywhere.

More on those later.

First Things First: It’s Dun-EE-din

We should probably get that out of the way.

Dunedin is pronounced dun-EE-din, and the name comes from the Scottish Gaelic Dùn Èideann. The city’s official history says Scottish merchants John O. Douglas and James Somerville arrived in the area in the 1880s, petitioned for a post office, and the post office — and eventually the town — took the Dunedin name.

But one of the things we learned at the Dunedin History Museum was that the Scottish story is a little more complicated than the simplified “a bunch of Scots founded the town” version you sometimes hear.

The Scottish identity became much stronger over time.

Dunedin embraced it through street names, tartan, bagpipes, Highland dancing and eventually the Dunedin Highland Games, which began in 1967. The city still has a pipe band, Scottish cultural organizations and enough tartan around town that you definitely aren’t going to forget the connection.

You notice it almost immediately.

There’s a bagpiper on the Welcome to Dunedin sign. There’s a Scottish cultural center. We found a little mosaic photo opportunity where you can stand behind it and suddenly find yourself wearing a kilt.

Naturally, we took the picture.

We’re professionals.

Downtown Dunedin Is Better When You Wander

We made the mistake — if you want to call it that — of arriving downtown early on a Monday.

Dunedin apparently does not believe Monday morning should be rushed.

A lot of places weren’t open yet. Some opened at 10:30. Some at 11. Some at noon.

Some simply looked at Monday and said, “Nope.”

That’s actually a useful planning tip: if shopping and hitting every downtown business is important to you, Monday morning probably isn’t your ideal Dunedin window.

But the upside was that parking was easy and we had plenty of room to walk around and take pictures without constantly stepping around crowds.

Downtown is very walkable once you’re in the core, and the regional tourism office confirms there are free public parking options around downtown.

What surprised me was that downtown doesn’t feel like one manufactured tourist strip.

It spreads out.

Restaurants sit beside homes. A brewery suddenly appears around the corner. There are murals, salons, shops, little parks, a red British phone booth, dogs everywhere and enough small visual details that Jodie and I kept pointing things out to each other.

“Look at that.”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“Wait, get a picture of that.”

Which is basically how you end up with 68 Nikon pictures before you realize you’ve been in town for about five minutes.

The Pinellas Trail runs directly through downtown, and that matters more once you know what you’re looking at. The trail follows part of Dunedin’s old railroad corridor — the Orange Belt Railway helped shape the town and connected Dunedin to the broader region. Today, people bike and walk through the same general corridor that once moved passengers, mail, citrus and freight.

That’s the kind of history I enjoy.

You don’t need to memorize a date.

You’re standing on it.

The Museum Was Worth the Stop

We went into the Dunedin History Museum, housed in the city’s old railroad station, mostly because I wanted enough history to understand what we were looking at around town.

The regional tourism office identifies the building as the 1924 Atlantic Coast Line Railroad Station.

I figured we would walk through quickly.

We did not walk through quickly.

I came out with roughly 27 photographs of historical displays, which is apparently what happens when you give me a camera and tell me there might be useful information for the blog.

The museum filled in a lot of blanks.

Early Dunedin was citrus country. The railroad mattered. Tourism mattered. Winter visitors mattered. The town grew, changed, struggled and eventually reinvented itself.

One of my favorite pieces of history involved Dunedin incorporating in the late 1800s partly because residents were tired of roaming hogs tearing up gardens and property.

There was apparently even a hog jail.

Every town needs an origin story.

Dunedin having one involving incarcerated pigs feels completely appropriate.

We also learned how important tourism became fairly early in the town’s development. Hotels and boarding houses began serving winter visitors from the North, setting the stage for places like the Fenway Hotel that would come later.

The Fenway turned into a much bigger part of this trip than we expected. Here’s our stay at Dunedin’s historic Fenway Hotel, including HEW, the rooftop sunsets and the pool time Jodie wisely insisted on.

The People May Have Been Our Favorite Part

This keeps happening on our trips.

We go somewhere looking for buildings, restaurants and things to do.

Then we end up remembering the people.

While wandering downtown, we stopped to look at some real estate listings because Jodie and I are apparently incapable of visiting a Florida town without eventually asking, “What would it cost to live here?”

That led us into a conversation with Eamon Bolton, a local real estate agent.

We weren’t planning to talk to a realtor.

We definitely weren’t planning to spend that long talking to one.

But Eamon was one of those people who immediately felt less like someone trying to sell us something and more like somebody who genuinely loves the area and enjoys talking about it.

We talked about Dunedin, Safety Harbor, Tarpon Springs, real estate, hurricanes, food, local produce and eventually travel blogging.

Then we discovered he also has a food-focused project centered around Tarpon Springs.

That got our attention.

By the time we walked out, Jodie and I had both reached basically the same conclusion: if we were seriously buying property in this area, he’s exactly the kind of person we’d call.

And the conversation paid off in another way.

He gave us restaurant recommendations and local stories that we never would have gotten from a Google search.

That is becoming one of my favorite parts of traveling this way.

Talk to people.

Not every useful travel tip is sitting on a website waiting to be ranked.

Honeymoon Island Before Florida Remembered It Was August

One morning we drove out across the Dunedin Causeway to Honeymoon Island State Park.

We deliberately went early.

Partly because I wanted photographs before the crowds showed up.

Mostly because this is Florida in August and I have enough sense to know that anything involving walking should probably happen before the sun gets fully motivated.

Honeymoon Island State Park opens at 8 a.m.; current admission is $8 per vehicle for up to eight people.

Even early, it was already surprisingly hot.

And still.

Very still.

We stopped around the nature center, looked through the exhibits, wandered along the water and seagrass, took pictures and admired the barrier-island landscape.

Honeymoon Island sits just offshore from Dunedin across St. Joseph Sound, and that drive across the causeway really helps you understand the geography of this part of Florida.

Then, after walking around for a while, we made the bold decision not to pretend we were about to embark on some six-mile nature expedition.

Sometimes the travel-blog version of an outing is:

“We explored the pristine natural environment.”

The real version is:

“That was really nice. It’s hot as hell. You ready?”

Yes.

Yes, we were.

Honeymoon Island itself has enough history to deserve a separate story, including the fact that it and Caladesi were once part of one island before a hurricane changed the landscape.

We’ll come back to that one.

A Little Food Detour That Turned Out Better Than Expected

One of our more random stops was Carvor’s Fish House.

We weren’t starving and it wasn’t some carefully researched reservation.

We were driving around, recognized the place and decided to stop.

Those are often the meals I enjoy most.

I had conch fritters and a blackened scallop skewer.

Jodie doesn’t do seafood, so she went with the beer-cheese hushpuppies and macaroni salad.

Her assessment of the hushpuppies was pretty specific: they were good, but she really didn’t get much “beer cheese” from them.

The macaroni salad, though, tasted genuinely fresh and was much better than the obligatory scoop of mayonnaise-covered sadness you occasionally get as a side somewhere.

My scallops were better than I expected.

The conch fritters were good.

Then we got to the key lime square.

That crust.

I remember Jodie saying it may have been the best crust she’d ever had on a key lime dessert.

Fantastic.

Sometimes you don’t need a tasting menu.

You need a basic table, a couple of good bites and something involving key lime.

And Eventually, We Stopped

There’s something else I want to remember from this trip.

At some point, we had to stop gathering material.

Travel blogging creates a weird temptation.

You start thinking:

We should photograph that.

We should walk one more block.

We should try one more restaurant.

We should stop at one more shop.

We should get video.

We should get a better picture.

We should—

No.

At some point, you have to stop researching the vacation and actually have the vacation.

By mid-afternoon one day, we’d already been out exploring, taking pictures and driving around.

Jodie wanted some pool time.

So we went back to the Fenway and had pool time.

That sounds stupidly obvious until you start turning travel into work.

I don’t want Trip Jar to become the reason we stop enjoying the trips that created Trip Jar in the first place.

The best travel advice we may have picked up in Dunedin had nothing to do with parking, restaurants or admission prices.

Sometimes you’ve done enough.

Go back to the hotel.

Get in the pool.

Dunedin Is Easy to Like

I understand why people get attached to this place.

It has the water and beaches people expect from Florida, but the actual town has its own personality.

Downtown is walkable.

The Pinellas Trail runs straight through it.

There are independent restaurants, breweries, shops, art and music. Honeymoon Island is just down the causeway. The official tourism guides lean heavily into exactly that combination — small-town downtown, beaches, cycling, local food and Scottish heritage — and after spending a few days here, that description actually fits.

But what made Dunedin work for us wasn’t any single attraction.

It was finding something interesting around the next corner.

A mural.

A strange little shop.

A railroad station.

A conversation with somebody we didn’t know five minutes earlier.

A really good piece of key lime dessert.

A sunset that made us almost forget about dinner.

And occasionally realizing that the weird orange painted on the side of a building probably wasn’t the last one we were going to see.

Because if you’ve been looking closely at our Dunedin pictures, you may have noticed them too.

Oranges.

Little ones.

Big ones.

Hidden ones.

Murals full of them.

They started showing up everywhere.

And no, we haven’t forgotten about them.

There is an actual story behind Dunedin’s random oranges.

More to come.

Gettripjar.com

There are hotels you stay at because they happen to be where you’re going.

Then there are hotels that are part of the reason the town became a destination in the first place.

The Safety Harbor Resort & Spa is definitely the second kind.

Sitting right on Tampa Bay at the end of downtown Safety Harbor, the resort is built around the historic Espiritu Santo Springs, natural mineral springs that have been associated with this area for centuries. The modern resort traces its history to the 1920s, and the property became a full-fledged health spa under Dr. Salem Baranoff in 1945. Today it is also a member of Historic Hotels of America.

That history is everywhere once you start paying attention.

And believe me, we paid attention.

Where Healing Waters Flow

The phrase you see throughout the resort is “Where Healing Waters Flow.”

That isn’t just hotel marketing somebody dreamed up during a branding meeting.

The springs really are the heart of this place.

Local history identifies them as the Espiritu Santo Springs — “Springs of the Holy Spirit” — and the story traditionally connects them to Hernando de Soto’s arrival in the Tampa Bay area in 1539. Whether anyone actually stumbled upon the Fountain of Youth is another question entirely, but people have been coming here to “take the waters” for generations.

Old displays throughout the resort tell the story of the Safety Harbor Sanatorium, mineral-water treatments, porcelain baths and the evolution of the place into a destination for people looking for health, recreation and rest.

Some of the old advertisements are fantastic.

They basically promised that a few days soaking in Safety Harbor could straighten out everything from sleeplessness to irritability.

I probably needed a longer reservation.

The history is one of my favorite things about the property because the hotel doesn’t feel like somebody built a faux-historic resort and then went shopping for antiques.

This place actually has a past.

You see it in the photographs, the old advertisements, the murals, the chandeliers and spaces like the Four Springs Ballroom.

Even the decor occasionally makes you stop and look up instead of walking straight through the lobby staring at your phone.

The Location Is Almost Unfair

One of the resort’s biggest advantages has nothing to do with mineral water.

The location is excellent.

Walk out the front of the hotel and downtown Safety Harbor is basically right there.

Main Street, restaurants, shops, Gigglewaters, Backwater Provisions, the candy store and all the other places we wandered through are within an easy walk.

Walk the other direction and you’ve got the waterfront.

The resort sits along Tampa Bay beside the marina and waterfront park, which means some rooms and common areas get pretty spectacular views. The property itself sits on 22 acres along the bay.

We watched weather move across the water, boats cut through the bay and one absolutely beautiful sunset settle behind the palms.

That photograph probably explains the attraction better than anything I can write.

The Resort Itself

This is where expectations matter.

If you’re expecting a shiny new luxury resort where everything was installed six months ago, this probably isn’t it.

Safety Harbor Resort & Spa feels like an old Florida resort because, well, it is an old Florida resort.

There are places where you can see the age.

There are also places where the age is exactly what makes it interesting.

The chandeliers, tile work, murals and old photographs give the property a personality that newer hotels spend millions of dollars trying to manufacture.

Some parts are elegant.

Some parts are quirky.

And some parts might make you think, Yep, that’s been here awhile.

Personally, I’d rather have that than another beige hotel where I can’t remember what city I’m in.

Our room was comfortable enough, although we did have one ongoing battle with the shower.

Apparently operating it required a level of mechanical engineering neither of us possessed.

Jodie couldn’t get the water to come out properly.

I tried.

There may have been negotiations.

Eventually water happened.

We’ll call that a victory.

The Pools, the Spa — and the Great Chair Hostage Crisis

Obviously, you don’t stay at a place called the Safety Harbor Resort & Spa without spending some time around the water.

The resort has multiple pools and extensive spa and wellness facilities, and the mineral springs remain part of its identity today.

We checked out the indoor pool and plunge areas and wandered around enough of the property to understand why people come here specifically for the spa experience.

But I have one complaint, and technically it isn’t even the resort’s fault.

People.

More specifically:

People who believe putting a towel on a pool chair establishes permanent residency.

We went outside and found chairs covered with towels and personal belongings.

Okay. Fine.

Except the owners were nowhere around.

Not for a few minutes.

For hours.

Meanwhile, other guests could have used those chairs for thirty minutes, an hour or however long they wanted to actually sit by the pool.

If you want a guaranteed private spot all day, book a cabana.

A towel shouldn’t function as a 30-year mortgage.

I really wish resorts would enforce a reasonable unattended-chair policy because this happens everywhere and it’s incredibly rude.

There. I said it.

A Hotel That Actually Belongs to Its Town

The more we explored Safety Harbor, the more obvious it became that the resort and town aren’t really separate stories.

The springs helped create the destination.

The resort grew around the springs.

And downtown grew up beside it.

Historic Hotels of America dates the current resort’s beginnings to 1925, with the sanatorium era following shortly afterward. Dr. Baranoff’s purchase in 1945 helped turn the property toward the kind of destination health-spa concept we recognize today.

That’s what makes staying here different from simply booking a hotel nearby.

You’re sleeping in part of the town’s story.

You can walk around the resort and find displays telling that story, then walk outside and encounter historic buildings and markers continuing it down Main Street.

For somebody like me who will stop and read practically every historical plaque somebody puts in front of me, that’s a pretty good arrangement.

Jodie is very patient.

So, Would We Stay Again?

Yeah.

But with realistic expectations.

The Safety Harbor Resort & Spa isn’t perfect.

Parts of it show their age.

The shower and I are still not friends.

And if I ever find the international headquarters of the people who reserve pool chairs with towels at sunrise, we’re going to have words.

But none of those things erased what we liked about the place.

The waterfront location is excellent.

Downtown is steps away.

The history is genuinely interesting.

The resort has character.

And sitting there looking across Tampa Bay while the sky turns pink and orange has a way of making some minor hotel complaints seem considerably less important.

I’d especially recommend staying here if you’re planning to explore Safety Harbor itself.

You can park the car, walk downtown, wander back to the resort, hit the waterfront, grab dinner and never feel like you’re commuting to the town you came to see.

And if you happen to discover that the mineral water really does reverse aging, cure irritability and restore unlimited energy, please let me know.

Apparently I didn’t drink enough of it.

Trip Jar Take: Safety Harbor Resort & Spa is worth considering less because it is a flawless modern luxury hotel and more because of the combination of location, history, waterfront setting and character. Stay here because you want to experience Safety Harbor, not simply sleep in it.

Gettripjar.com

There are Florida towns that seem determined to make sure you know they’re tourist destinations.

Safety Harbor is not one of them.

It sits on the edge of Tampa Bay, tucked between much bigger names, and somehow manages to feel like a town people actually live in instead of one designed by a committee to sell you a T-shirt.

That was probably the biggest surprise for us.

We came for the historic Safety Harbor Resort and Spa and the mineral springs that put this place on the map.

But after walking around town, eating, shopping, wandering into places we hadn’t planned on, and learning a little of the history, Safety Harbor turned into something more interesting than just “the town where the spa is.”

It also taught us one very important lesson:

If there’s a shop you want to visit, go early.

Because this town rolls up the streets at about 6 p.m.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

A Downtown That Still Feels Like a Downtown

Safety Harbor’s Main Street isn’t huge.

That’s part of the appeal.

You can park, walk, poke around a few shops, stop for something to eat, wander toward the waterfront, and not feel like you’ve committed yourself to a twelve-mile expedition.

There are older buildings mixed with restaurants, bars, shops, murals and historic markers, and there’s enough personality to keep the walk interesting.

Some Florida downtowns have become so polished that they almost feel manufactured.

Safety Harbor still has some rough edges.

I mean that as a compliment.

One of the pieces of history is the Hotel Frances, built in 1914.

According to the historical marker outside, the building survived the devastating 1917 fire that destroyed much of downtown Safety Harbor.

It later became the Bayview Hotel, and over the years served as a boarding house, rental apartments and shops.

That’s one of the things we enjoyed here: history isn’t hidden inside a museum. You keep running into it while you’re walking around.

And then there are the murals.

Safety Harbor has public art tucked into and around the downtown area, including some pretty elaborate pieces that tell parts of the city’s history.

The combination works.

Old Florida buildings.

Palm trees.

Brick sidewalks.

Murals.

A little weirdness.

That last part is important.

I prefer my towns with a little weirdness.

The Springs Came First

Long before Safety Harbor became a nice place to spend a weekend, the area was known for its natural mineral springs.

The Espiritu Santo Springs are still a huge part of the identity of the city.

The historical marker at the springs tells the traditional story that Hernando de Soto reached the shores of Tampa Bay in 1539 and encountered springs already used by Native people.

The waters later became wrapped into the Florida mythology surrounding the Fountain of Youth.

Whether they can cure what ails you is another discussion entirely.

But people certainly believed in them.

And they came here for them.

A lot of them.

By the 1920s, the springs were being developed as a health destination. The Safety Harbor Sanatorium opened in 1926, offering baths, swimming and treatments centered around the mineral water.

Old advertisements promised relief from everything from nervousness and sleeplessness to colds, body aches and generally being alive in the early twentieth century.

Some of the claims are spectacular.

One old advertisement encouraged visitors to come for a few days or a week to restore “normal energy levels” through diet, treatments, baths, recreation and rest.

You know what?

Remove the medical claims and they may have accidentally invented the modern spa vacation.

Safety Harbor Has More History Than I Expected

We kept finding historic markers as we walked.

The Hotel Frances.

The springs.

The old Masonic lodge.

The resort.

And other pieces of the city scattered around downtown.

That’s something I’d recommend doing here even if you’re not a hardcore history person.

Don’t just walk Main Street looking for restaurants.

Look around.

Read the signs.

Walk down the side streets.

The town makes more sense once you realize how much of its identity came from the springs, the old hotels and the people who traveled here hoping Florida sunshine and mineral water might fix whatever was wrong with them.

Apparently Florida has been selling the cure for life for more than a century.

We’ve just gotten better at marketing it.

Shopping in Safety Harbor

Safety Harbor has a nice collection of independent stores, although this is where that 6 p.m. warning becomes important.

Some businesses close even earlier.

We learned that the hard way.

This is not a town where I’d spend the afternoon at the hotel and assume I can browse the shops after dinner.

You may be browsing locked doors.

Do your shopping during the day.

One of our better stops was Spice of the Harbor.

It’s the kind of store I can lose time in.

Sauces.

Rubs.

Salts.

Hot peppers.

Mustards.

Seasonings.

Things I absolutely do not need but somehow convince myself are critical to future cooking success.

They even had hibiscus salt.

I still don’t know what I would do with hibiscus salt.

But I considered buying it.

We found some clever little refillable spice containers that can attach to a key ring or grill area, plus a ridiculous range of heat levels.

One thing I especially liked was learning that they carry products from veteran-owned and active-duty-connected businesses.

That immediately got my attention.

The staff was also helpful without hovering, which is exactly how a place like this should be.

Backwater Provisions

Another place worth wandering into is Backwater Provisions, a small outdoor-enthusiast boutique that feels much more local than your typical coastal gift shop.

Think fishing, boating, outdoor gear and Florida-lifestyle stuff — the kind of store where I can find something I didn’t know I needed five minutes earlier.

What really stuck with us, though, was the young man working there. He took the time to help us out, answer questions and genuinely seemed interested in making sure we found what we were looking for. I wish I had gotten his name, because he deserves the mention.

That happened to us several times in Safety Harbor. The stores were good, but the people inside them made us want to remember the stores

Another fun stop was Rocking Delicious Candy Store.

If you have kids with you, good luck.

Actually, if you’re an adult with zero impulse control around candy, also good luck.

The store has shelves of old-school candy, newer stuff, chocolates, fudge, novelty candy and enough brightly colored sugar to cause a dentist to buy a second home.

Micah was helping us while we were there, and he was a genuinely nice young guy who made the stop better.

Those little interactions matter.

I’ll remember a friendly person at a small shop far longer than I’ll remember another generic souvenir store.

Stop for the Carrot Cake

This one gets its own section because I’m serious.

Go to Strachan’s Ice Cream.

And get the carrot cake.

Not “maybe.”

Not “if you have room.”

Get it.

It may be the best store-bought carrot cake I’ve ever had.

And I don’t throw that around lightly.

Sometimes travel advice is complicated.

Sometimes it’s:

Eat the carrot cake.

That’s the whole tip.

Dinner at The Tides — and a Staff Worth Mentioning

One of the better examples of Safety Harbor hospitality came at The Tides Market.

The place operates as both a market and restaurant, and while we had opinions about a few things we ate and drank, there was absolutely no question about the staff.

GiGi and her team were terrific.

And our server, Erika, was awesome.

Not in the fake, “Hi guys, my name is whatever and I’ll be taking care of you” restaurant way. She was genuinely warm, attentive and personable, and the whole staff seemed to work together instead of operating in their own little territories.

That matters to me.

A restaurant can recover from a dish I don’t love. It’s much harder to recover from people who act like you’re inconveniencing them by showing up.

The Tides had the opposite problem: the people made us want to like the place.

We had several good things. The burger, crispy potatoes, dirty rice and Seafood Monica were among the standouts.

Not everything hit perfectly. Some of the flavors on the burger — pimento cheese, tomato and everything else going on — competed a little instead of working together. The dirty rice was really good but could have used something acidic to brighten it up, and the cocktails weren’t as memorable as the food.

We also struck out on the conch fritters because they weren’t available.

But none of that changes the overall impression.

We enjoyed ourselves, we ate well, and GiGi, Erika and the rest of the team are a big reason The Tides belongs in this article.

I think that is far more useful to a reader than me pretending every plate was flawless.

And Then We Found Gigglewaters

This was probably my favorite unexpected find in town.

Gigglewaters Social Club & Screening Room feels like somebody mashed together a neighborhood bar, a small restaurant and an old movie theater and decided not to explain themselves.

Which is exactly why it works.

Behind a set of doors is a tiny 32-seat screening room showing classic movies, and you can get food and drinks while you watch.

When we were there, they were showing The Seven Year Itch.

Tickets were only a few dollars.

I love places like this because you could easily walk right past without realizing what’s inside.

The theater is small, intimate and just strange enough to be memorable.

We weren’t even planning on eating there when we went in.

Then we started reading the menu.

That usually ends badly for our plans.

The Big Dill

Jodie ordered a drink called The Big Dill.

Yes, that is an entire pickle sitting across the top of the glass.

No, we did not ask why.

There are moments in life when asking questions only ruins things.

It was ridiculous.

It was good.

It was absolutely getting photographed.

We also tried the Giggle Melt, which uses pimento cheese, and split it with fries and several dipping sauces because, as I apparently announced at the table:

You can never have enough sauce.

That remains one of my stronger philosophical positions.

The burger itself tasted good, although the meat-to-bread engineering was a little questionable. One half had considerably more burger than the other.

If your patty is dramatically smaller than the bread, just smash the thing wider.

Problem solved.

There was also a bizarre moment involving a gritty pickle that appeared to have sand or something similar on it.

We pointed it out, they apologized, replaced it and handled it appropriately.

Travel isn’t made better by pretending every meal is perfect.

It wasn’t.

But we still liked Gigglewaters.

We’d go back.

That probably tells you more than a perfect five-star review would.

A Town That Apparently Has a Bedtime

Here’s the biggest practical thing I would tell anyone visiting Safety Harbor:

Plan your day around business hours.

By early evening, a surprising number of shops are done.

Not slowing down.

Done.

Closed.

Finished.

Go home.

There are restaurants and bars open later, of course, and apparently people in town are perfectly capable of staying out drinking until the middle of the night.

But retail?

Safety Harbor basically looks at the clock around 6 p.m. and says:

“That’s enough commerce for today.”

We actually found it kind of charming once we stopped trying to shop.

But if you arrive expecting a bustling downtown shopping district at 8 p.m., you’re going to be disappointed.

Come earlier.

Walk around.

Shop.

Eat something.

Then transition into dinner and drinks.

The Waterfront Changes the Feel of the Town

Safety Harbor sits right on Old Tampa Bay, and the waterfront is a big part of why the place feels so relaxed.

You can see boats cutting across the bay, Tampa in the distance, palms along the shoreline and some pretty dramatic Florida skies.

It’s one of those places where the weather changes the entire scene every twenty minutes.

Bright blue.

Dark clouds.

Rain somewhere across the bay.

Sunlight somewhere else.

Then sunrise. The sunrises are worth waiting for.

That photo above?

That’s Safety Harbor.

No stock photo.

No tourism bureau.

No AI.

Just standing there when Florida decided to show off.

So Who Would We Send to Safety Harbor?

Safety Harbor isn’t Clearwater Beach.

It isn’t St. Pete.

And it definitely isn’t Tampa.

That’s the point.

I’d recommend it to someone who likes small downtowns, independent businesses, local history, walking around without an agenda, a few unusual restaurants and bars, and being near the water without feeling like they’re in the middle of a major tourist district.

I’d also recommend it as part of a bigger Tampa Bay trip.

You could easily spend a day here.

We spent more.

And I’m glad we did.

There are towns where you leave with a checklist of attractions.

Safety Harbor felt different.

We left remembering a mineral spring, a tiny movie theater, a candy store, a spice shop, old buildings, a ridiculous pickle cocktail, one hell of a piece of carrot cake and a sunrise over Tampa Bay.

Sometimes that’s enough.

Actually, sometimes that’s exactly what you’re looking for.

Trip Jar Takeaway

Go for: Small-town Florida, history, waterfront views, local businesses, food and an easy walking downtown.

Know before you go: Shop earlier than you think you need to. Many businesses close by late afternoon or early evening.

Don’t miss: Espiritu Santo Springs, the historic markers around town, The Tide, and the carrot cake at Strachan’s.

One of our surprise favorite: Gigglewaters Social Club & Screening Room.

Most important advice in this entire article: Seriously. Get the carrot cake.

Oh, did I mention they roll up the sidewalks at 6pm?

Gettripjar.com

The older I get, the more I realize something.

When I was young, I couldn’t wait to get somewhere.

Now, I don’t mind taking my time.

Maybe that’s because, at 55, I know I have more road behind me than I do ahead. That’s not depressing. If anything, it’s made me appreciate the miles a little more.

Travel has a funny way of teaching that lesson.

I’ve forgotten what hotel room we stayed in more times than I can count. I couldn’t tell you what half the rental cars were or what gate we flew out of.

But I remember watching my wife laugh so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.

I remember the bartender who treated us like old friends even though we’d just met.

I remember finding a quiet bench overlooking the water and thinking, “This is enough.”

Those are the things that stick.

This isn’t going to be a series about the best cruise ship or the perfect restaurant. You’ll still find plenty of that around here. I enjoy helping people plan great trips.

This is about the things travel has taught me after enough miles, enough wrong turns, enough great meals, a few disappointments, and more than a few moments that caught me completely by surprise.

If you’ve ever looked back at a trip and realized the best part wasn’t what you planned, then I think you’ll understand these little conversations.

Thanks for riding along with me.

We’ve still got some road ahead.

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Every one of us has a few miles we’d rather not drive again.

Some roads were rough because of what happened to us.

Some because of choices we made.

Some because we simply didn’t know any better at the time.

Whatever the reason, those miles are still back there.

The mistake a lot of people make is staring at them so long that they forget to watch the road ahead.

I’ve learned that our past can explain us, but it doesn’t have to define us.

The worst day of your life isn’t your identity.

Neither is your biggest mistake.

Neither is the thing someone else did that you’ve been carrying around for years.

Those things happened.

They’re real.

But they’re chapters, not the whole book.

If you’re reading this and carrying something heavy, I hope you’ll hear this from someone who’s lived long enough to know...

It really does get better.

Not always quickly.

Not always the way you expect.

There will still be days when an old memory catches you off guard or a scar reminds you it’s still there.

That’s okay.

Scars prove we healed.

The windshield in your car is a whole lot bigger than the rear view mirror for a reason.

Take a glance back once in a while. There’s value in remembering where you’ve been.

Just don’t spend so much time looking backward that you miss the life waiting in front of you.

We’ve all got more road to travel.

I’m rooting for you.

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I’ve been thinking about something.

After enough years in the fire service, you learn that life usually doesn’t announce when everything is about to change.

There isn’t always a warning.

Sometimes somebody wakes up, pours a cup of coffee, kisses their spouse goodbye, and heads out the door expecting to be home for dinner.

And then they aren’t.

I’ve spent a lot of years meeting people on days they never expected to have.

I’ve stood in living rooms, on highways, in hospital rooms, and in front yards while someone’s perfectly ordinary day became a dividing line between before and after.

You see enough of those moments and, whether you realize it or not, they follow you home.

Not the details.

The lesson.

For most of my life, I probably thought the big moments were the ones worth remembering.

The vacations. The birthdays. The anniversaries. The graduations. The places we saved money to visit and the photographs we took while we were there.

And they matter.

God, they matter.

But after all these years, I’m beginning to think we’ve got it a little backward.

The really important parts of life might be the ordinary ones.

Sitting beside someone you’ve loved for years and watching absolutely nothing important on television.

Dinner around the table.

A phone call from your daughter.

A kid laughing from another room.

Driving somewhere with your wife and talking about nothing in particular.

Coffee in the morning when everybody you love is exactly where they’re supposed to be.

Those moments don’t feel important while they’re happening.

That’s the problem.

We assume there will be another one tomorrow.

Most of the time, thankfully, there is.

But my career has shown me enough exceptions that I don’t take that promise quite as seriously as I once did.

Maybe that’s one reason travel has become so important to me.

It isn’t really about collecting destinations.

It’s time.

Time away from the noise.

Time with Jodie.

Time with my daughter, grandson, and SIL.

Time to sit somewhere we’ve never been before and have a conversation we probably could have had at home—but somehow didn’t.

The older I get, the less interested I am in accumulating things and the more protective I become of the people and moments that actually make up a life.

I don’t always get this right.

I still get aggravated over things that won’t matter next week.

I still worry about work.

I still waste hours I won’t get back.

Knowing that time is precious doesn’t magically make you wise enough to use every minute perfectly.

Maybe it just makes you notice a few more of them.

And maybe that’s enough.

The rear view mirror is filled with birthdays, vacations, Christmas mornings and places I’ll never forget.

But mixed between all of those big memories are thousands of ordinary days I didn’t know were special when I was living them.

I know better now.

Someday, one of those ordinary days will be the one I’d give anything to have back.

So while they’re still here, I’m trying to pay attention.

By Trip Jar’s Travel Blog

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Ah, EPCOT. If you ask any Disney World enthusiast how many rides are there, you’ll hear about their love for this mixed-use experiment disguised as a theme park. Here’s the thing: EPCOT only has 11 rides. Wait. Hear us out. What EPCOT lacks in number, it makes up for in variety — it has one of Disney World’s wildest coasters, the best hang-glider simulator at any park, a trackless dark ride that will charm all ages, and a few nostalgic boat rides hidden away in the World Showcase. Below is an honest ranking including wait time expectations and who each ride is best for.

1. Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind

The best ride at EPCOT and legitimately one of the best attractions at Walt Disney World. This indoor reverse-launch coaster blends a 70s/80s rock soundtrack with coaster thrills, and it hits on every front. The launch will sneak up and knock you off your seat. The coaster vehicle rotates to ensure you’re always facing forward into the scene. And the music … Disney has masterfully integrated a rock soundtrack with never-before-seen technology. It’s exciting without feeling like a body torture session.

Expect waits of 55-80 minutes regularly, even with Lightning Lane. Motion sickness warning: this ride spins — avoid the kiosk food before boarding.

2. Soarin Across America

If you’ve been to EPCOT before, you know Soarin. It’s an absolute icon. What you may not know is that this past May 26, 2026, the park debuted a new film flying over America replacing their long-time Soarin Around the World ride. But don’t worry — everything else you love about Soarin is unchanged: you’re hoisted into the air and into a giant IMAX-style curved screen while a hang glider simulator tips you from side-to-side over sweeping aerial footage. As you soar over mountains, canyons, and monuments they pump scents into the air that correspond with your flight path.

Soarin Across America is emotional, gorgeously filmed, and revitalizes this classic ride. It works for every age. Every member of the family will love this ride.

Expect wait times of up to 45-60 minutes. Hit this one early or grab a Lightning Lane.

3. Remy’s Ratatouille Adventure

One of Disney World’s cutest rides is Remy’s Ratatouille Adventure . This trackless dark ride puts you in the shoes of a rat coursing through Gusteau’s restaurant. The sets are amazing. The movements of the ride vehicle are thrillingly unpredictable.

2025 update: they removed the 3D glasses. Disney got rid of the troublesome 3D effects in November 2025 and replaced them with customized 2D screens. Guests who complained of nausea and motion sickness hailed the decision. If you loved the magic of the ride’s original 3D presentation, the world feels every bit as magical without it — the sets and animatronics are top notch. If you avoided it hoping the motion sickness would go away, there’s no better time than the present.

This is a Tier 1 Lightning Lane selection. Grab it with your first Lightning Lane if you aren’t doing Guardians first. Wait times should be around 35-55 minutes during peak.

4. Frozen Ever After

EPCOT’s Frozen Ever After ride is exactly what it sounds like — it’s a boat ride through Arendelle set in the Norway pavilion. It’s better than you think. The music is catchy. The sets are fun. Olaf is adorable. As an added bonus, it’s inside so it’s a nice break from the Florida sun. Parents — your kids will love it. You won’t hate it.

Frozen Ever After is consistently one of the most popular attractions at EPCOT. If you hit it first thing, you can beat the crowds. Or hop on towards the end of your trip when lines have diminished.

5. Test Track 3.0

If you rode Test Track before noon on January 10, 2025 you didn’t ride Test Track 3.0. While they kept the signature 65 mph sprint outdoors at the end of the ride intact, the adventure where you designed your own dream vehicle was axed. In its place is a ride through the history of the vehicle you’re piloting, and some speculation about the future of travel. You’ll still feel like you’re flying — just without the custom car at the end.

Guests are torn. They loved the build-your-own-car portion of Test Track pre-2025. Disney says they listened to guest feedback to improve the ride, but whether Test Track 3.0 is better remains to be seen. Time will tell if this change is here to stay.

6. Spaceship Earth

Spaceship Earth is the ride inside the iconic giant golf ball. It’s a leisurely journey through human communication. From cave drawings to the Information Age. It moves slowly and it’s air-conditioned. It’s nostalgic. Peaceful. If you have the time, ride it.

PRO TIP: For the best view of the scenes on the way up, sit on the outside of the ride vehicle.

7. Living with the Land

Living with the Land is another great ride. But rather than flying over Californian farmland or zooming through an animated rat’s kitchen, this boat cruises you through agricultural greenhouses where Disney actually grows ingredients used in their park restaurants. Educational. Interesting. Inspiring. Definitely worth checking out if green-energy piques your interest. As an added bonus, Disney offers a behind the scenes greenhouse tour called Behind the Seeds .

Highlights: no height requirement. No thrills. Completely relaxing.

8. The Seas with Nemo and Friends

The Seas with Nemo and Friends ride takes you through a giant aquarium home to sharks, dolphins, sea turtles, manatees, and starfish and allows you to follow along on Nemo’s journey home. It’s fun if you have a toddler who loves Finding Nemo but honestly the real star here is the aquarium itself. It’s worth spending an afternoon diving deeper into what this massive ecosystem has to offer. Sea Base, an underwater exploration room and Turtle Talk with Crush, an interactive show that feels like it came from the future are both worth your time.

The Ones to Know About

Journey of Imagination with Figment is a dizzying, swooping trip through your imagination with the Figment of Your Imagination. It’s quirky — you’ll either love it or skip it. Gran Fiesta Tour Stands For Friendship is a leisurely boat ride through Mexico. The ride itself isn’t much, but the ambiance makes it relaxing and fun. Queue times will be much lower for these than the big 5.

PLAN YOUR VISIT PRIMER

• Rope drop plan: get to park open and go straight to Guardians, Soarin or Remy’s.

• Lightning Lane Multi Pass includes Frozen, Soarin, Remy’s, Test Track, and Spaceship Earth. Lightning Lane Single Pass includes Guardians. Budget $15-35/person for access to both.

• EPCOT’s World Showcase doesn’t open until 11 AM. The rides in World Discovery and World Nature open at park open.

• Soarin has three rows of seats. For the best experience — the top row provides you with the optimal view. You won’t have anyone’s feet blocking your view.

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When we first began publishing posts to Trip Jar’s blog, we aimed to share two solid articles with you each week.

It felt responsible. Stable. Maybe even slightly ambitious.

The problem is travel posts can quickly become diluted and generic when dictated by a calendar.

Trip Jar was never meant to be a content mill. We don’t want to post an article just because it’s Thursday. We want every story we share to offer something useful, honest, or experienced first hand so we can stand behind it.

That sort of quality takes time.

In the future you can expect our main article to post each Monday. We will continue sharing Notes, photos, travel tips, updates, and the occasional additional article during the week when we absolutely have something worth saying.

This is not slowing Trip Jar down.

It’s making Trip Jar more intentional.

We would rather provide you with one article that helps your family make a better decision than two articles we’ve posted simply because we felt obligated and they could’ve easily come from any other travel site on the web.

Families spend hard earned money on vacations. They place their trust in travel writers to wisely influence their limited time, important memories, and sometimes the trip they have waited years to take.

That level of trust is important to us.

So we have decided to focus on quality over quantity. Real experiences over generic posts. And useful stories over simply filling space.

We think you’ll like Trip Jar better for it.

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This was a real conversation Jodie and I had while walking back to the Swan through EPCOT’s International Gateway.

We had eaten well, had a few drinks, wandered through World Showcase, and enjoyed the kind of EPCOT evening that Walt Disney World does better than almost anywhere else.

Then, the slightly less magical part of the conversation:

Was it worth what we paid to get in?

That is not as simple a question as Disney fans sometimes make it sound.

One-day Walt Disney World tickets are date-based, so the price of an EPCOT evening does not stop at admission. Food, cocktails, parking, and any optional Lightning Lane purchases all add to that number. Two adults can spend several hundred dollars by the end of the night. Disney has advertised some multi-day passes at lower per-day prices in recent years, but those are not to be confused with the price of a regular one-day EPCOT ticket.

So, is EPCOT worth it for a couple without children who mostly wants to eat, drink, walk through World Showcase, and enjoy the atmosphere?

The honest answer: sometimes yes, sometimes no.

Here is when each answer applies.

The Case for Buying the Ticket

EPCOT may be part of Walt Disney World, but it does not feel like a theme park designed primarily for children.

World Showcase arranges 11 country pavilions around the lagoon, each with restaurants, shops, entertainment, architecture, and drinks inspired by the destination. In a single evening, you can stroll through Mexico, Norway, China, Germany, Italy, Japan, Morocco, France, the United Kingdom, Canada, and the American Adventure.

No, that is not a substitute for a real trip to France.

I do not think Disney has quite cracked the trick of Parisian indifference at that level of accuracy yet.

What EPCOT does is offer variety. You can share a meal in Germany, try sake in Japan, sip tequila in Mexico, browse the shops in Morocco, and end the night with dessert in France without ever climbing back in the car.

That is not the same as a truly authentic night out in a major city. It is its own experience and, I think, a pretty good one.

EPCOT also becomes a little easier to justify during one of its seasonal festivals. Food & Wine runs from August 27 through November 21 in 2026, while Flower & Garden runs from March 4 through June 1. Festivals add outdoor kitchens or Global Marketplaces, specialty dishes, drinks, entertainment, and a few more reasons to slow down as you make your way around the park.

I would not say the festival booths alone justify the price of admission. You still pay for everything you eat and drink, and those individual purchases can add up quickly.

But combine the festival with some attractions, live entertainment, World Showcase, and the nighttime atmosphere, and the ticket begins to make more sense.

That distinction matters.

Paying park admission to walk in, buy two drinks, and leave after an hour is hard to justify. Spending a good part of a day on rides, exploring the pavilions, sampling several festival dishes, catching a concert, and staying through the evening can feel like a full experience rather than an overpriced bar crawl.

EPCOT Has Attractions Worth Riding

Even on a night where food and drinks are the primary reason to visit, EPCOT has attractions that help justify the admission price.

Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind remains the park headliner and one of the most impressive theme park attractions Disney has built yet. It is smooth, fast, funny, and unlike just about anything else at Walt Disney World.

Remy’s Ratatouille Adventure is lighter, more family-friendly, but still charming and worth experiencing, especially if you are already spending time in the France pavilion.

Soarin’ Across America also returns to EPCOT in 2026 as a limited-time version of the attraction created around the country’s 250th anniversary celebration. Disney currently has it listed through September 24, 2026, but do not assume it will be a permanent fixture.

Then there are the smaller, quieter attractions such as Living with the Land, Spaceship Earth, and the Gran Fiesta Tour. None of them requires you to plan your entire day around them, but they give you an air-conditioned break while adding something beyond just eating and drinking.

That becomes even more valuable when Florida is doing its best impression of the surface of the sun.

The Case for Skipping the Ticket

The flip side is that EPCOT is not always worth the cost.

If all you want is a nice meal, a few drinks, and a pleasant evening walk, you can have that experience elsewhere around the resort without buying park admission.

This is especially true if you are staying at the Swan, Dolphin, Yacht Club, Beach Club, or BoardWalk.

The EPCOT resort area has enough restaurants, bars, and scenery to fill an evening on its own. You can walk the BoardWalk, have dinner, stop for a cocktail, watch the boats cross Crescent Lake, and enjoy the general Disney atmosphere without entering a theme park.

The Swan and Dolphin themselves have several good dining options. Il Mulino, Rosa Mexicano, Garden Grove, the hotel lounges, and the pool bars can easily fill an evening.

You may also get to hear parts of EPCOT’s nighttime entertainment from the surrounding resort area, though you will not get the complete show or sightlines you would have from inside the park.

Walking toward the International Gateway, seeing the Skyliner overhead, and just enjoying the EPCOT resort area is free.

Walking through the gate is most certainly not.

On a night when you are tired, do not care about rides, and mostly want dinner and a drink, it might be smarter to skip the ticket.

There is no shame in admitting that.

Disney does not hand out medals for seeing how much every waking moment of a vacation can be filled with doing something.

The Real Cost for Two Adults

The biggest flaw in many articles on EPCOT for adults is that they talk about the experience but not the total bill.

Admission is only the first piece of the puzzle.

For two adults, you may pay for two date-based tickets, parking if you are not staying on property or using resort transportation, several festival dishes, alcoholic beverages, dinner, and perhaps Lightning Lane access.

A small festival plate may not look expensive by itself. Neither does one cocktail.

The problem comes when you repeat that sentence six or seven times.

A couple who buys admission, samples food and drinks throughout the afternoon, has dinner, and adds a paid attraction will easily turn EPCOT into a several-hundred-dollar day.

That does not automatically make it a bad value.

It just means EPCOT needs to be the main event.

If you arrive early enough to enjoy the attractions, explore World Showcase, see some entertainment, sample a few things you really want, and stay through the evening, the experience can justify the money.

If you arrive at 7: 00 p.m., buy two drinks, and walk halfway around the lagoon before leaving, the math gets much harder to justify.

Festival Season Changes the Answer

For Jodie and me, EPCOT is generally easier to justify during a festival.

The festivals create a vibe that is hard to reproduce on an ordinary evening. They add additional food booths, specialty menus, entertainment, decorations, and reasons to stop in areas you might otherwise walk past.

Food & Wine is the obvious one for adults who like to eat and drink, but it is not the only one.

Festival of the Arts brings food studios, visual artists, entertainment, and creative displays. Flower & Garden has topiaries, gardens, outdoor kitchens, and Garden Rocks concerts. Festival of the Holidays adds even more changes to World Showcase with seasonal food and holiday traditions.

The value is not that the festival food is free.

It is not.

The value is that there is more happening during the day, making it feel as though your ticket bought access to an event rather than simply access to restaurants.

The Florida Resident Annual Pass Question

For Florida residents, an annual pass can change the entire equation.

Disney currently has the Pixie Dust Pass listed at $489 plus tax and the Sorcerer Pass at $1,099 plus tax. The Pixie Dust Pass has extensive blockout dates, including weekends and most peak periods, while the Sorcerer Pass has broader access at a much higher price. Passholders may also receive parking and selected dining, merchandise, and hotel discounts, but benefits and availability can change.

Pixie Dust can make sense for someone who lives close enough to visit on weekdays multiple times a month.

But I would not automatically say it pays for itself after four visits.

You need to compare the cost of the pass against the actual one-day ticket prices for the dates you would visit. Then factor in how often you will use the included parking and whether any of the discounts apply to places you genuinely spend money.

There is also the behavioral side of owning a pass.

When you have already paid for the year, you do not feel the same pressure to pack every possible attraction into one day. You can enter EPCOT for dinner, listen to a concert, stroll through World Showcase, and leave without feeling like you wasted a full-price ticket.

That freedom may be the greatest value of the pass.

The tradeoff is that Disney controls the blockout calendar, reservation rules, discounts, and what remains included versus turning into another paid upgrade.

Know what you are buying before you commit.

The Heat Problem

EPCOT has a heat problem, and World Showcase does not offer nearly as much shade as I wish it did.

The loop around the lagoon is almost entirely exposed, and the distance seems considerably longer when the heat index is flirting with triple digits.

June, July, August, and much of September can make the full loop in the middle of the afternoon seem more like a survival exercise than a leisurely international stroll.

There are ways to make it better.

Arrive later in the afternoon, after the sun has begun to drop, especially if your primary interests are dinner, drinks, and nighttime entertainment.

Carry an umbrella for shade. I am well past caring whether it makes me look fashionable. Shade is shade.

Duck into the larger shops in China, Japan, Germany, and other pavilions for planned air-conditioning breaks. Book a late lunch or early dinner so the hottest part of the afternoon includes a chair, cold drink, and climate control.

Drink water between alcoholic beverages.

I know that is not as much fun as another frozen cocktail, but neither is spending the evening in First Aid.

If comfort is your top concern, late October and November are usually much better choices than the peak summer months. Food & Wine continues through November 21 in 2026, so visitors can enjoy the festival after the worst of the summer heat has usually subsided.

What EPCOT Does Better Than Any Other Park

EPCOT’s greatest strength is not one ride, restaurant, or festival.

It is the combination.

Ride Guardians of the Galaxy, eat in Japan, browse a shop in Morocco, drink tequila in Mexico, listen to live music at the American Gardens Theatre, and end the evening walking by the lagoon.

Conversation and atmosphere can become the main event rather than something you experience between rides.

Magic Kingdom offers classic Disney nostalgia.

Hollywood Studios leans heavily into major franchises and thrill attractions.

Animal Kingdom combines rides with animals, conservation, and some of Disney’s best visual design.

EPCOT is where adults can slow down.

It is not trying to be the other parks, and it works best when you stop expecting it to be.

So, Is EPCOT Worth It Without Kids?

Yes, when you plan to make a real day or evening of it.

It is worth considering when a festival is running, you want to ride several attractions, you plan to explore World Showcase, and you will stay long enough to enjoy the nighttime atmosphere.

It may not be worth it when you only want dinner and drinks, especially if you are staying in the EPCOT resort area and already have excellent restaurants, bars, and scenery within walking distance.

The answer also varies by how you travel.

Some couples would happily pay for one full EPCOT day because they love the variety and atmosphere.

Others would rather put the same money toward a truly exceptional dinner, another hotel night, or part of their next trip.

Neither choice is wrong.

For us, EPCOT is worth paying for when the park itself is the destination.

When we are mostly looking for a good meal, a couple of cocktails, and a nice evening walk, the BoardWalk and surrounding resorts may be the better answer.

That may not be the answer Disney wants.

But it is the honest one.

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Dream it. Save for it. Go.

Research note: Ticket prices, annual-pass benefits, attraction offerings, and festival dates change. Confirm the details for your specific travel dates before booking.

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If you’ve never been to EPCOT’s International Food & Wine Festival before, it’s easy to think of it as… well… food and wine. Sure. That’s part of it. But if I’d visited for the first time and then tried to describe it to you, I’d probably tell you it was an excuse to slow down and enjoy one of Disney’s most beautiful parks.

Of course, there are dozens of Global Marketplace booths with food from around the world. Craft beer. Wine flights. Frozen cocktails. And desserts that convince you there’s always room for “just one more.”

But there are also live concerts, family-friendly activities, scavenger hunts for the kids, and lots of reasons to wander and enjoy being outside instead of feeling like you have to rush to the next attraction.

One of the things I love most is that you don’t have to be a foodie or even like food to enjoy it. Maybe you’re the type who wants to try every menu item. Maybe you’re just happy getting one delicious snack before riding Soarin’ or Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind. Whatever your preference, you’ll feel right at home.

2026 Dates and Times

The 2026 EPCOT International Food & Wine Festival will run from August 27 through November 21, giving guests nearly three months to plan at least one Walt Disney World vacation around the popular event.

If you’re already planning a fall Disney vacation, there’s a good chance your trip will overlap with the festival. And that’s a very good thing.

Here’s everything you need to know before you go.

What Exactly Is the EPCOT Food & Wine Festival?

If it’s your first visit, picture EPCOT as one giant food crawl.

The restaurants you already know and love are still there, but during the festival, Disney adds dozens of temporary Global Marketplace booths throughout the park. You’ll find them scattered through World Celebration, World Discovery, World Nature, and, of course, around World Showcase.

Each booth focuses on a country, region, or culinary theme, serving smaller portions meant to be sampled instead of a full meal. Think of it as building your own tasting menu as you explore the park.

The best part? The festival is included with your EPCOT admission. There’s no separate ticket to buy. You simply pay for the food and drinks you choose.

Expect to spend somewhere around $6 to $10 for most food items and $8 to $16 for alcoholic beverages, although a few premium dishes will cost more.

That might sound expensive until you remember these portions are designed for sampling and sharing. In fact, I’d encourage it. Jodie and I almost always split dishes when we’re trying something new. It stretches the budget, lets you sample twice as many menu items, and if one dish isn’t as good as you hoped, you’re only out a few bites instead of a full meal.

Trip Jar Tip

One of the biggest mistakes I see is people trying to “win” Food & Wine.

You can’t.

There are simply too many booths, too many great dishes, and too many drinks to experience in one day.

Slow down. Share plates. Sit and listen to a concert. Wander through World Showcase.

I’d rather come home remembering six amazing dishes than twenty average ones.

What’s New (and Worth Your Time) in 2026

Every year, Disney tweaks the festival just a little bit. Some menu items disappear. New ones take their place. And a few guest favorites return because…well…Disney knows people would riot if they didn’t.

Here’s what’s confirmed for 2026.

The Eat to the Beat Concert Series returns to the America Gardens Theatre with three performances every evening at 5:30, 6:45, and 8:00 p.m. The lineup includes returning favorites like Hanson, Boyz II Men, The Beach Boys, Bowling for Soup, and Tiffany, along with first-time performers including Fitz and the Tantrums, Lauren Alaina, Grace Potter, and The War and Treaty.

If one of those artists is on your must-see list, Disney’s Festival Concert Dining Packages are worth considering. You’ll enjoy a meal at one of EPCOT’s participating restaurants and receive guaranteed seating for the concert. Popular acts fill up quickly, so don’t wait until the last minute if you’re planning your trip around a specific performance.

Families will be happy to know that Remy’s Ratatouille Hide & Squeak returns once again. Purchase a scavenger hunt map, search World Showcase for hidden Remy figurines, complete the challenge, and collect a small prize at the end. It’s a simple activity, but it’s a great way to keep younger kids engaged while everyone else samples the festival booths.

Cheese lovers can once again take part in Emile’s Fromage Montage, one of Disney’s more creative food crawls. Purchase any five qualifying cheese dishes during the festival, collect your stamps in the Festival Passport, and you’ll earn a complimentary treat after completing the challenge. And yes… It’s every bit as delicious as it sounds.

Disney has also confirmed the return of several guest favorites, including the Street Corn-style Chicken Dumplings from Gyoza of the Galaxy and the Grilled Bushberry-Spiced Shrimp Skewer at the Australia Marketplace. Of course, one of the best parts of every Food & Wine Festival is discovering the new dishes. Half the fun is finding something you’d never think to order anywhere else.

Just remember that menus can change throughout the festival. If there’s a particular dish you’ve been dreaming about since Disney released the menus, I’d make that booth one of your first stops rather than assuming it’ll still be available later in your trip.

How to Approach the Food Booths

Walking into EPCOT’s Food & Wine Festival for the first time can be a little overwhelming.

You grab a Festival Passport, flip through the pages, and suddenly realize there are dozens of booths serving everything from lobster rolls and filet mignon to Belgian waffles, sushi, and desserts you didn’t even know existed.

Your first instinct will probably be, “I want to try everything.” Don’t. Not because you can’t. Because you won’t enjoy it nearly as much.

One of the best parts of Food & Wine is slowing down. Wander through World Showcase. Stop when something catches your eye. Find a shady bench and actually enjoy what you ordered before rushing to the next booth. My biggest recommendation is to share whenever you can.

Jodie and I almost always split dishes, especially when we’re trying something new. Not only does it stretch the budget, but it lets us sample twice as many menu items without feeling stuffed halfway through the day.

I’d also recommend choosing eight to ten dishes you genuinely want to try instead of chasing every trending item on social media. There are simply too many great options to experience them all in one visit, and that’s okay.

Another strategy that’s worked well for us is using the booths as appetizers and snacks throughout the day while planning one sit-down meal. Whether it’s Biergarten, Via Napoli, Le Cellier, or one of EPCOT’s other excellent restaurants, having one full meal gives you a chance to recharge before heading back out to explore.

Remember, the festival isn’t a race. It’s an excuse to spend the day enjoying one of Disney’s most beautiful parks.

Trip Jar Tip

Don’t stop at the very first booth you see.

Most guests naturally head toward World Showcase as soon as they enter the park, creating longer lines early in the day.

Instead, wander through World Discovery and World Nature first.

Some of our favorite dishes have come from booths with shorter lines simply because most people walked right past them.

Eat to the Beat: More Than Background Music

If you’ve never experienced the Eat to the Beat Concert Series, don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s just background entertainment while everyone eats. It’s one of the highlights of the festival.

Every evening, the America Gardens Theatre comes alive with three live performances at 5:30, 6:45, and 8:00 p.m. The lineup changes throughout the festival, featuring artists from the ’80s, ’90s, 2000s, country, rock, pop, and Christian music. Chances are you’ll recognize more names than you expect.

Acts like Hanson, Boyz II Men, The Beach Boys, Bowling for Soup, MercyMe, and Tiffany have become festival favorites, while Disney continues adding new performers each year to keep the lineup fresh.

If seeing a particular artist is important to you, I strongly recommend looking into one of Disney’s Festival Concert Dining Packages. You’ll enjoy a meal at a participating EPCOT restaurant and receive guaranteed seating for the performance. Popular concerts often fill quickly, especially on weekends.

If you’re not interested in a dining package, plan to line up early.

Personally, the 8:00 p.m. performance is my favorite.

By then, the sun is beginning to set, the Florida heat has finally eased up, Spaceship Earth is glowing in the background, and EPCOT takes on an entirely different atmosphere than it has during the middle of the afternoon.

Even if you don’t recognize the artist on stage, take twenty or thirty minutes and enjoy the show. You might be surprised how much it becomes one of your favorite memories from the day.

When to Go

If your schedule is flexible, I’d aim for late October or early November. By then, Florida has usually decided to stop trying to melt everyone, every Global Marketplace is in full swing, and you’re still ahead of the holiday crowds that begin arriving later in November. Better yet, visit on a Tuesday or Wednesday if you can.

The festival feels completely different on a weekday. Lines are shorter, finding a table isn’t nearly as challenging, and you’re not spending half your day weaving through shoulder-to-shoulder crowds.

That’s not to say August and September are bad. If that’s when your vacation is planned, you’ll still have an incredible time. Just prepare for the Florida heat. Comfortable shoes, sunscreen, and staying hydrated aren’t suggestions that time of year—they’re necessities.

No matter when you visit, I’d also recommend arriving earlier in the day. The booths are open, the temperatures are usually more manageable, and you’ll have plenty of time to explore before settling in for an evening concert.

Tips That Actually Help

Over the years, I’ve picked up a few things that make Food & Wine a little easier to enjoy.

Start by grabbing a Festival Passport when you enter the park. It’s free, it lists every booth and menu item, and it makes planning your route much easier. You don’t have to follow it exactly, but it’s nice having everything in one place.

If you’ve been buying Disney Gift Cards throughout the year, this is a great place to use them. It’s surprisingly easy to lose track of what you’re spending when every booth has something that looks amazing. Using a gift card gives you a built-in budget without feeling like you’re constantly doing math in your head.

Another thing worth knowing is that most of the Global Marketplace booths don’t offer Mobile Order like many of EPCOT’s restaurants do. The good news is Disney has this down to a science. Even when the lines look intimidating, they usually move much faster than you’d expect.

And if you’re staying at the Walt Disney World Swan or Dolphin, do yourself a favor and use EPCOT’s International Gateway entrance. Being able to walk into the park, spend a few hours eating and listening to live music, then stroll back to your hotel without worrying about buses or parking is one of the best-kept conveniences at Walt Disney World.

Sometimes the little things make the biggest difference.

Trip Jar Tip

If your goal is to experience every booth, you’ll probably leave feeling exhausted.

If your goal is to have a great day with the people you’re traveling with, you’ll probably leave wanting to come back.

Aim for the second one.

Final Thoughts

One of the things I love most about the EPCOT International Food & Wine Festival is that there’s no wrong way to experience it. You can spend the day sampling dishes from around the world. You can catch your favorite band at Eat to the Beat. You can hunt for Remy with the kids, enjoy a leisurely dinner around World Showcase, or simply find a quiet spot with a drink and watch the world go by. That’s the beauty of it. No two visits are exactly alike.

If this is your first Food & Wine Festival, don’t worry about seeing or tasting everything. You won’t. Neither will I.

Instead, pick a few dishes you’ve been looking forward to, discover a couple you weren’t expecting, listen to some live music, and enjoy one of Disney’s most unique annual events.

If you leave already talking about what you want to try next year… I’d say you did it exactly right.

Trip Jar was created to help families travel smarter, spend less stressfully, and make memories they’ll talk about long after they get home.

Dream it. Save for it. Go.

The above picture was created by AI.