The
cursed cruise: how the dream of never-ending luxury at sea became a nightmare
Oliver Holmes in Bangkok, Daniel Boffey in London and Adeshola Ore in Melbourne
The
company pulled the plug on the cruise after it said monthly fuel costs per
cabin had gone from $1,800 to as much as $8,000. Illustration: Guardian Design
The MV
Odyssey was billed as the ultimate escape from Donald Trump. Instead, the oil
shock caused by his war has left passengers unceremoniously dumped in Cambodia
Sat 31
Oct 2026 04.00 CET
The idea
was a never-ending retirement at sea, a continuous voyage around the globe. The
promise to the passengers of the MV Odyssey cruise ship – many approaching the
autumn of their lives – was that on the open seas they could cut loose from the
troubles of the world. But the world had other ideas.
The end
came in an announcement as stark as it was brief: they had seven hours to get
off. They were going no further than Cambodia.
The
Odyssey, owned by Florida-based Villa Vie Residences, which had first set sail
from Belfast, Northern Ireland, in October 2024, made an explicit offer: Donald Trump had
been re-elected to the White House, and this was a way for those ill-disposed
to the president to enjoy a four-year “skip forward”.
Passengers
disembark from the Odyssey at Sihanoukville port in Cambodia. Photograph: Kith
Serey/EPA
For
$319,998, a couple seeking such an escape could head off to the high seas for
the length of a presidential term and come back from their journey to nowhere
when the danger had passed – or not. For those who had simply had enough, there
was a permanent residency option for a few hundred thousand more. Depending on
the package, there were also monthly fees on top, which covered food, drinks,
wifi, wellness programmes and room cleaning. They would have access to a pool,
a pickleball court, a theatre, several bars and a gym. Exotic port destinations
would be visited along the way.
It was by
no means cheap – but the Odyssey was quite accurately billed as the
“affordable” option for those interested in such a cocoon. The pioneer in the
world of “residential ships”, a vessel called MS The World, offered apartments
that typically ranged from $2m to $15m, with the pampered passengers getting to
choose where it would go. For that experience, there was a waiting list.
The
Odyssey was not in that league. Rather than built as a residential ship, it had
previously been a traditional cruise liner named MS Braemar. Under that name,
it had been turned away from several ports in the Caribbean during the pandemic
when its passengers became ill. Cuba finally allowed it to dock, but the vessel
never went into service as MS Braemar again. It was sold off by Fred Olsen
cruises and adapted by its new owners. Villa Vie described the three-decade-old
restructured vessel as “an intimate residential cruise ship offering a new way
to live”.
Passengers
onboard the then-MS Braemar wait to disembark in Mariel, Cuba, in March 2020.
Photograph: Adalberto Roque/AFP/Getty Images
At 642ft
(196 metres) long, it was a relatively small ship, but at such prices, and with
the world being held firmly at bay, what could go wrong? Neither the more than
200 passengers on the Odyssey nor its cruise operator foresaw the consequences
of Trump’s war in Iran. The reality was, there was no escaping the US
president.
On
Tuesday, Villa Vie Residences issued a statement. It had run out of money owing
to the soaring price of oil. Monthly fuel costs per cabin in parts of Asia had
risen to as much as $8,000 from $1,800, placing it “under unsustainable
financial pressure”, it announced.
“Since
the conflict began in late February, we have taken significant steps to reduce
fuel consumption, including slowing the itinerary and spending more time in
port,” the company said, explaining the slow death of its business model.
“Those measures have not been enough to offset the extraordinary increase in
fuel costs, and we have been unable to continue carrying the resulting
operating losses.”
The Villa
Vie Odyssey cruise ship leaves Belfast. Photograph: Liam McBurney/PA
The
Odyssey’s passengers were told to pack up their belongings before being
transported on buses into the Cambodian port city of Sihanoukville on the Gulf
of Thailand. “We are working with residents to coordinate disembarkation and
temporary living arrangements, and are supporting residents, crew, and
employees as we evaluate restructuring and recapitalisation alternatives over
the next 60 days,” the company said.
“People
were shell-shocked, numb, crying,” said one passenger, Kit Cassingham from the
US, who spent two years on the ship with her husband, Randy. They had made
their cabin into a home, putting down their own rugs and pictures on the wall.
“People were angry. They were hysterical. They were sad … Disbelief,” she
added. “I mean, that whole gamut of, what is it, the five stages of grief.”
Most of
the passengers on the Odyssey were Americans, travelling with an international
group of 156 crew members, including a ship’s doctor and two nurses. Many of
the passengers were retired or digital nomads. One woman, Holly Hennessy, had
been living happily with her cat, Captain, since the ship set sail two years
ago.
Holly
Hennessy with her Siamese cat, Captain, in Belfast. Photograph: Liam
McBurney/PA
One
couple, Lanette Canen and Johan Bodin, who said they had bought a cabin with a
15-year guarantee, had been documenting their life at
sea on YouTube, including the lead-up to the fateful announcement. The
signs of financial distress had been apparent for weeks, they said.
“I’m Mr
Super Positive, and I’ve felt really drained the last two months,” Bodin
recounted in a video.
Footage
from inside the ship’s lounge on the final night showed residents drinking, as
rumours spread that their voyage might be over. Cruise ship staff had requested
each passenger contribute $1,800 to ensure the ship had funds to travel to
Bangkok.
The next
day, the couple posted an
update showing the inside of their cabin as a voice on the loudspeaker said
the ship’s operator had “unfortunately” been “unable to secure the fuel
necessary to continue operations”. An email was sent requesting that everyone
disembark by 2pm.
“We knew
the worst-case scenarios, but we didn’t think it would come to reality, which
it did,” said Rina Cavazza, a pilates instructor from Brisbane, Australia.
Rina
Cavazza’s cabin on the Villa Vie Odyssey. Photograph: supplied
Another
passenger, Sherrie Cornett, wrote on Facebook that they were “dropped
unceremoniously in the middle of town, left to our own devices”.
The
company has not provided financial aid, passengers said, or even supplied a
list of hotels in Cambodia. It later offered tickets for a charter flight to
the US, although many passengers had already left. The company has been
contacted for comment.
Kit and
Randy Cassingham, now in a hotel in Cambodia, reflected on how life changed on
the ship once the Iran war began, with ominous signs that the company was
running out of money. The food quality began to deteriorate, and there was less
of it; there were fewer excursions on shore, they said.
Randy and
Kit Cassingham: ‘Live life while you can because you don’t know how the
adventure will turn out.’ Photograph: Tang Chhin Sothy/AFP/Getty Images
“I
realised as soon as the strait of Hormuz incident came along, the energy of the
ship changed,” Kit said. “I think it was because the ship management realised
how much more this was going to cost. And then they were starting to do
cutbacks that we weren’t aware of yet.”
Far from
being a haven, the ship became a microcosm for the global economic turmoil. “I
watched the world, and I don’t even pay attention to the news, but I’ve watched
it just kind of crumble and shatter,” said Kit. “And I’m thinking, ‘it’s going
to be difficult no matter what’.”
Randy
said the writing had long been on the wall. They were, after all, on a ship
that “drinks petrol by the metric tonne”. “You know, literally they’re buying
150 metric tonnes of fuel at a time,” he said. “We’re talking about $800,000 if
we tried to get a full tank.”
While
docked in Singapore in August, passengers had already been told the company did
not have enough money to continue cruising, and several of the residents had
contributed their own funds to get it moving again.
“Very few
expect to get any money back because we know that they [the company] have been
in terrible money problems from the beginning,” said Randy. Passengers had also
passed a jar around for money for the crew, who are also stuck in Cambodia, he
said.
Will the
story of the Odyssey put people off cruises? It is unlikely, said Prof Andrew
Coggins, an industry analyst, who pointed to an unprecedented boom since the
end of the Covid pandemic, with global passengers reaching a historical high of
37.2 million in 2025.
Those
numbers were in part because of “pent up demand” from those who had been unable
to enjoy a cruise during the pandemic years, he said. But it was also the case,
he said, that a cruise could offer good value for money. “You get to be
pampered, you pack and unpack once, but you see different places, you eat
better food than you would get at home, and then you have the romance of going
to sea,” he said.
Going
nowhere: the Villa Vie Odyssey at Sihanoukville port in Cambodia. Photograph:
Kith Serey/EPA
Residential
ships such as the Odyssey were, though, in a very small category of their own,
Coggins added. “The World is the only other one I know about and I think there
are a couple that are trying to start up,” he said. But the finances are
notoriously difficult. In 2023, a three-year cruise offered by Miray Cruises, with fares
starting at $30,000 per person per year, including accommodation, food, drinks,
laundry and even health care, was cancelled weeks before its due departure date
owing to an inability to make the sums add up.
To
survive choppy world markets, charges to the passengers have to be high,
necessitating a concomitant level of luxury. “The World was actually built as a
residential ship,” Coggins said. “The cabins or the state rooms are much
bigger.”
Speaking
earlier in the week, Mikael Petterson, who launched Villa Vie Residences in
2023, accepted that he was the “villain in the story” but said he was doing
everything he could to help the stranded passengers. “Nobody that’s tried
residential cruising has succeeded and we have gone further than anyone else,”
he said. “But I think we would have been absolutely fine and we would have seen
this through, if there was no Iran war.”
Back in
Cambodia, Randy has been blogging to keep people updated while they work out
what to do next. But he isn’t bitter. For all the promises, he said, all good
things must come to an end. “Our message is that we’re not saying ‘poor me’. We
know that people are having trouble, that they’re trying to put fuel in their
cars, food in their mouths. And we’re very lucky. We’re not crying in our soup.
So we are completely aware that we’re very lucky and that we’re going to land
on our feet and be OK.”
Kit, a
transformation coach, agreed. “This isn’t a pity party for us,” she said. “We
actually want to say to people: ‘Live your dreams. Go for the gusto. Live life
while you can because you don’t know how the adventure will turn out’.”
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