Cruise Ships Suck.
(6 minute read)
Because the ocean and coastal towns shouldn’t pay the price for your vacation.
Cruise ships promise everything at once: easy travel, luxury, convenience, and a sampler platter of destinations with none of the hassle. It's the all-inclusive, floating version of a dream holiday. But beneath the surface—literally and figuratively—they come at a steep cost. And it’s a cost that’s rarely paid by the cruise lines themselves.
At Tripologiste, we’ve made a conscious choice: we don’t recommend cruises. Not because we don’t believe in ease, or joy, or indulgence—but because we believe travel should leave places better, not worse. Travel should connect us, not insulate us. Here’s why we’ve taken that stance.
Cruise Ships Are Environmental Disasters
A single large cruise ship can emit as much pollution as a million cars in one day. That’s not exaggeration—it’s emissions data confirmed by environmental watchdog groups. The bulk of modern cruise ships still burn heavy fuel oil, one of the dirtiest fossil fuels available. It's thick, cheap, and incredibly damaging. The airborne pollutants they release—sulfur oxides, nitrogen oxides, and fine particulate matter—can linger long after the ship has departed, affecting coastal air quality and public health.
And then there’s the ocean. Cruise ships discharge greywater (from sinks, showers, and laundries), untreated sewage, bilge water (which can contain oil and other contaminants), and even food waste into the sea. These pollutants disrupt marine life and damage coral reefs—some of the planet’s most fragile and vital ecosystems. In 2019 alone, the industry dumped over 1 billion gallons of greywater into U.S. coastal waters.
Often, these ships sail under flags of convenience—registered in countries with lax environmental laws and little oversight. This allows cruise lines to sidestep responsibility, avoid penalties, and operate with minimal transparency.
We believe the ocean deserves better. And so do the coastal communities that depend on it.
They Overwhelm Cities Without Sustaining Them
Cruise ships arrive like clockwork—thousands of passengers descending on port cities in just a few short hours. From Dubrovnik to Venice to Juneau, the impact is similar: sudden surges of foot traffic, long lines, noise, and crowding that overwhelms local infrastructure.
Yet for all the chaos, the economic benefit is surprisingly shallow. Many cruise passengers eat all their meals on board, shop in duty-free terminals owned by the cruise lines themselves, and follow prearranged excursions that return profits to the ship’s parent company—not the local tour operator.
What’s left behind? Rising real estate prices that drive out residents, narrow economies dependent on seasonal mass tourism, and frayed public services.
There’s a difference between visitors and vessels. Visitors arrive with curiosity, time, and willingness to engage. Cruise ships often bring none of those things.
We work with destinations that want to host travelers—and with businesses that actually keep money in the hands of local communities.
They Rely on Exploitative Labor Practices
The smiling service on cruise ships often hides a harsh reality. Behind the buffets, turndown service, and 24-hour room delivery is a global labor system engineered for profit—not for people.
Most cruise staff are recruited from low-income countries and employed under contracts that offer minimal wages, little legal protection, and almost no downtime. Crew members can work 12–14 hours a day, seven days a week, for months on end without a single day off. Living quarters are crowded. Communication with the outside world can be difficult. Medical care is inconsistent.
Because many ships operate under foreign flags, labor laws are weak or unenforced. Complaints can result in termination and repatriation—at the worker’s expense. In 2020, during the COVID-19 shutdown, thousands of workers were stranded at sea for weeks or months, without pay and with no way home.
When we recommend a hotel or experience, it’s one where people are paid fairly, treated with respect, and protected by real labor laws—not just corporate policies.
Cruise Tourism Encourages a Shallow Relationship With Place
A few hours in port. A walking tour through the historic center. A photo in front of a landmark. And then—back to the ship before sunset.
Cruise itineraries are built for efficiency, not immersion. They turn cities into backdrops, not destinations. For travelers hoping to tick off as many places as possible in a short amount of time, it can feel like an appealing option. But what’s lost is the depth—the texture of a place, its rhythms, its contradictions.
You can’t learn a city’s story in a stopover. You don’t stumble into quiet local bakeries or strike up unexpected conversations in a public square. You don’t find out what happens after dark, or early in the morning, or when it rains.
We believe the joy of travel comes from immersion, not just arrival. From staying longer. Learning more. Leaving with more questions than you came with. That’s not possible when your ship’s horn is blowing at 4 p.m.
Greenwashing Is Everywhere—But Doesn’t Go Far Enough
As public awareness has grown, cruise lines have gotten smarter with their marketing. “Green ships.” “Sustainable seas.” “Cleaner cruising.” But scratch the surface, and most of these promises are paper-thin.
Yes, some ships now recycle more. Some have scrubbers on their exhaust systems. Some have eliminated plastic straws. But none of that offsets the reality: these are massive, floating cities that consume enormous amounts of fuel, produce vast quantities of waste, and rely on extractive business models.
Truly sustainable travel would mean smaller ships, slower travel, tighter regulations, and more accountability. Until then, small changes won’t be enough.
You can’t compost your way out of a carbon footprint this big.
So What’s the Alternative?
We get it—cruises seem easy. And stepping off the grid entirely isn’t realistic for most travelers. But meaningful, sustainable travel doesn’t have to be hard—it just requires a shift in perspective.
Travel overland when you can. In places like Europe, Japan, or parts of South America, trains and buses can take you further than you think—and in far more comfort than you might expect. The scenery en route often becomes part of the journey.
Stay the night. That sunrise over the harbor? It’s not just for postcards. When you give yourself time in a place, you see more than just the curated version. You stumble on local markets, off-the-path cafés, evening music in the plaza. These are the memories that last.
Support local businesses. Eat at the family-owned restaurant. Book the walking tour with the history teacher who moonlights as a guide. Stay at the boutique guesthouse, not the global chain. It matters—both economically and emotionally.
Choose curiosity over checklists. Let go of the pressure to “do it all” and instead aim to feel a place. Ask questions. Listen to stories. Buy fewer souvenirs and collect more moments.
At Tripologiste, we plan journeys that connect you to the places you visit—and to the people who call those places home. You won’t wake up in a new port every morning. But you will wake up with purpose.
Have you ever rethought how you travel—or decided to skip a cruise for something deeper?
We’d love to hear your story. Tell us in the comments—or just drop us a message. We’re always learning, too.