I wasn’t a cruise person. Then I boarded Disney’s new ship, Treasure | Canada Voices

Just minutes after boarding the Treasure – the brand-new addition to Disney’s cruise ship fleet – my four-year-old daughter turned to me, eyes wide as teacups. “Mama,” she asked, “is Disney bigger than Canada?”

She couldn’t wrap her head around the scope – the idea – of Disney. In the immediate days leading up to this, we’d stayed at a Disney hotel, ridden on a Disney bus and now here we were on a Disney ship.

But she meant it literally, too. The day before, we’d also been at the parks at Orlando’s Walt Disney World Resort, which, to a small kid and her parents, had felt massive. Impenetrable. There were parks within parks. Apps to download, and a dizzying number of options. There are entire online forums dedicated to “hacking” the Disney experience. Formulas for calculating schedules based on ride wait times, character appearances and meal bookings.

At the parks, we had been the uninitiated. Disney novices. Our daughter had a blast. But it didn’t feel like a vacation.

And then we stepped foot on the Treasure, where we were to sail for the next three days (from Orlando to the Bahamas and back). Immediately, it was as if the temperature dropped. The crowds thinned. We felt taken care of, like we could stop panic-planning.

This was where the real vacation began.

Genie lamps, flying carpets and a Haunted Mansion bar

We were never supposed to be Disney cruise people. We weren’t even supposed to be cruise people. In our 20s and 30s, my husband and I were, like the rest of our insufferable cohort, “experience” travellers. We wanted to have “authentic” experiences.

And then, in 2020, our daughter was born. Now when it comes to travel, there is a long list of logistics to consider. Strollers and car seats. Short legs that tire quickly. A very limited list of foods she’ll actually eat.

So these days, our ideal vacations are about ease. Last year it was an all-inclusive resort, which was relaxing but mundane. This year, we thought we’d try a cruise.

We’d only been on one cruise before, with my parents. That was on a ship that caters, for the most part, to seniors. But as soon as we walked onto the Treasure, it was clear this was different. We stepped into the plush turquoise-and-gold grand hall to find an entire lineup of staff positioned at the entrance to greet us, like footmen at a royal ball. They made a point to greet the kids first, and were announcing each family’s arrival by name, as if at a royal court. Speaking of which, a princess was waving from the balcony.

These touches, we would soon learn, are standard of a Disney cruise. A royal welcome. Mickey Mouse dancing on the deck. A pirate-themed party. A ship horn that blares to the tune of When You Wish Upon a Star.

What was unusual was that this was a brand-new ship – only the third sailing since the Treasure made its debut in early December – and not yet open to the public. It was a trip hosted by Disney, to show it off. So there was a new ship smell. Gleaming, untouched surfaces. An eclectic guest list including journalists, internet-famous “mom-fluencers,” a well-known astronaut and, curiously, one-fifth of the members of NSYNC.

The layout of the Treasure is a near carbon-copy of Disney’s last new cruise ship, the Wish, which made its debut in 2022. But there are crucial differences. For one, the Treasure will make seven-day sailings of the eastern and western Caribbean, compared with the Wish’s four-night trips.

And unlike the princess-themed Wish, the Treasure is an homage to “adventure” – inspired by Jungle Cruise, Aladdin and Peter Pan. The ship is decorated with Moroccan lamps and deep jewel tones – flying magic carpets, tiger-themed mosaics and brass genie lamps. It also features several new restaurants: Plaza de Coco, a Mexican-themed dinner-theatre spot; the Skipper Society, a Jungle Cruise-decorated lounge with parrot-shaped chandeliers; and most popularly, at least on our sailing, the Haunted Mansion Parlor bar – based on the popular long-time Disney attraction, where the chandeliers flicker, the paintings come to life and the walls have (literal) eyes.

Like any other passengers on a Disney cruise, a list of suggested onboard activities had been preloaded onto our itineraries for the trip (including a karaoke night, which, to the delight of fellow passengers on our trip, included a brief duet between the aforementioned NSYNC member and his son). All of our meals, too, had been prebooked. So we spent our first afternoon alternating between the itinerary and wandering the ship on our own.

We followed our daughter as she hopped from swimming pool to splash park, then back to swimming pool. It sounds repetitive, except there were 10 pools and she couldn’t get enough. And – this is key – several of them were shallow, meant for little kids. She could splash and play without us having to hover.

We played air hockey. Rode the AquaMouse, the “water coaster” you ride suspended through water tunnels built above the ship’s top decks (an experience that even my painfully nonchalant husband declared “excellent”). Dropped into a Mickey Mouse drawing class. Took part in a “Guess the Disney Song” competition. Checked out the kids’ club, which had a slide for an entrance, and a design-your-own roller coaster simulator.

Other times, Goofy, Donald or Minnie made appearances, hanging out with guests, nary a crowd in sight. They became so common that by the time Mickey made his appearance on day three, my daughter simply shrugged.

Whenever we tired of one activity, we’d only walk a few feet before finding another. Unlike the busy Disney parks, the ship felt contained. Manageable.

Dining out as a family

On night two, we arrived at 1923, an old-Hollywood-themed restaurant, for dinner. We walked through the art-deco dining room, past the white tablecloths and gold-framed Disney memorabilia displayed along the walls to find that our server, Edwin, had prepared the table for our arrival. There was a high chair for our daughter. He’d also placed at her seat a glass of milk (with a lid and straw, for her clumsy little fingers), a glass of water and crayons.

This was our second night in a row that Edwin had been our waiter (servers follow guests from restaurant to restaurant each night on Disney cruises – a system they call “rotational dining”). He had already become familiar the night before with our daughter’s unfortunate dietary preferences. So he’d prepared for her in advance a plate of plain butter spaghetti, French fries and steamed vegetables – all of it off-menu.

(The job of feeding the upward of 6,000 passengers onboard the Treasure is a mammoth endeavour, I learned – one that Disney has turned into a staggeringly efficient operation. The supplies are stored, Tetris-like, in a cavernous storage area in the lower decks. And the cooks and supplies travel between the five restaurants, buffet and cafés using a series of elevators and hidden passageways).

I’ll admit that, going into the trip, my expectations for the food weren’t high. My assumption was that “cruise food” meant quantity, as opposed to quality. Yet almost everything I ate on the ship was pretty good. One morning at the buffet, I had chicken congee which – notwithstanding the fact that the server tried to serve it to me on a plate – was fluffy, comforting and excellent. And my meal at 1923 was very good (baked oysters to start – salty and crispy with pancetta; oven-baked lobster tail – perfectly cooked, though underseasoned; and raspberry crème brûlée – perfect, with a crispy shell that broke with a satisfying thwack).

The most memorable part of that meal? It was the first time since my daughter was born that we were able to have a sit-down, three-course dinner in a restaurant together.

By the end of the trip, our daughter had learned a new phrase: “Disney magic.”

Towels folded in the shape of elephants? “Disney magic.”

A Mickey-shaped ice cream bar that appeared after her dinner, without having to ask? “Disney magic.”

The guest-services attendant who tracked down superglue to fix her mouse ears, despite the fact that they were clearly unlicensed knock-offs from the dollar store? “Disney magic.”

Of course, it wasn’t magic, but rather the labour of the hundreds of men and women who work on the ship. (On the first day, I made the mistake of opening a door for one of the busboys at the buffet – he was holding a tray, and I insisted he go first. His reaction was so uncomfortable that I immediately regretted it.)

Across our three-day trip, the staff were, without exception, unfailingly gracious and unnervingly competent. They knew what we needed often before we even knew to ask. And it was this that allowed my husband and me to finally switch off and enjoy a little bit of relaxation.

And that, as any parent can attest, is a very special kind of magic.

If you go

Disney Treasure sails from Port Canaveral, Fla., on seven-night trips through the eastern and western Caribbean. Itineraries start at $6,284 based on double occupancy. For more details, visit disneycruise.disney.go.com.

The writer was a guest of Disney Parks and Resorts. It did not review or approve the story before publication.