The ocean has its own tempo—steady, patient, like a metronome set to Adagio. Out here on the MSC Opera, life has shifted from the fast bebop of deadlines and rehearsals to something softer, slower—a waltz in three-quarter time.
Each morning begins with the gentle sway of the ship, a reminder that movement doesn’t always mean haste. The sea hums in the background like a sustained chord, and I find myself breathing deeper, listening more. Detox isn’t just about food or drink; it’s about clearing the noise, letting silence become part of the score.
On land, my days were crescendos—emails, rehearsals, interviews, gigs. Here, the dynamics have changed. The rhythm is tender, almost whispered. Breakfast feels like the opening bars of a ballad, unhurried and warm. Afternoons are like the middle section of a waltz—graceful, flowing, with time to linger over sunsets that paint the horizon in major keys.
Evenings? They’re pure improvisation. Sometimes I hum along to the soft lounge music drifting through the Aurea Suite, sometimes I let the ocean write its own melody. No pressure, no tempo markings—just freedom. And somewhere in that quiet, I hear echoes of Sephonono, my latest album—a reminder that music, like life, needs space to breathe.
This cruise isn’t an escape; it’s a modulation. A shift into a key where rest and reflection take center stage. And as the days pass, I realize that slowing down doesn’t mean losing rhythm—it means finding a new one, one that lets the music breathe.
Life is a waltz right now—three steps, one breath, and a whole ocean of harmony.
Nnunu Ramogotsi: Africa's Jewel 