In the 1980s and '90s, Lynn Krominga was living a jet-setting life as the head counsel at Revlon in New York City, often traveling the globe for work, but never getting to truly explore all of the exciting places she visited. Then, in 2011, she was semi-retired and at a turning point in her life. She’d read about a ship called "The World," a new luxury, condominium-style ship that constantly circumnavigated the globe. It promised access to parts of the world usually difficult to get to, and expeditions and lectures from explorers and National Geographic guides, as well as private tours of world famous museums in the various ports they'd stop in. After a trial week on board, she was completely sold. She put her New York City apartment on the market, and bought a two-bedroom apartment on The World (at 1,800 square feet, it was bigger than most N.Y.C. apartments), and set off for a life at sea. Below, she tells PEOPLE in her own words what those three years onboard were really like — and why, after seeing lands and having adventures beyond her wildest dreams, she eventually decided to sell her condo and become a landlubber once more. A Luxury Traveler Finds Her Home When I was working at Revlon, I was the queen of flight upgrades. Once I found myself jetting from Singapore to Auckland with literally a room to myself in the front of a plane, with silk pajamas and gourmet food and actual furniture in addition to the bed. This was in the days before women were regular business travelers in Asia, and so I became a spokesperson for Japan Airlines, appearing in an ad campaign that ran around the world. So it’s safe to say I was used to luxury travel. But The World was different. Most of my fellow condo-owners were extremely wealthy, though many, like me, were self-made. Everyone was pretty low-key, and no one talked about their money. Especially for the well-known residents, it went without saying that privacy was paramount. We all had one similar interest: travel, in a highly curated way. Part of The World’s allure was the highly privileged access we had to some of the most extraordinary sights around the globe. The golfers had immediate access to the most exclusive courses wherever we happened to be, and the most well-known sites were places we traveled with private guides, and often out of the public eye. Access was arranged in advance. (One time when we were cruising the Mediterranean, my next-door neighbor onboard gave a private party for her special friends on her private yacht, which traveled alongside The World for a few days.) Daily Life at Sea The daily routine was much like it was at home. Eating meals in the apartment, with or without room service. Some residents were great chefs and held dinner parties. The ship's staff would be available for serving and clean-up, as were the chefs for those of us less talented in the kitchen. There was a primarily Asian restaurant, a seafood grill, an open-air casual café on the top deck, and an elegant restaurant that would have had a Michelin star or two on land with a world-renowned sommelier. After dinner, bars included live music, often featuring local musical talent. Some residents invited local talent to their apartments and held private parties. There was also a surprisingly popular karaoke bar! On the top deck at the stern of the ship, there were three suites set up under the stars for sleeping al fresco if the residents so desired, with butler service of course. The ship's staff was highly trained and experienced. Each crew member recognized every resident by name and learned our personal preferences, such as whether or not we wanted bread served at the table, what drinks were part of our daily routine, whether we wanted to restrict salt or fat intake, and whatever else we could think of. There was an onboard medical clinic affiliated with The Cleveland Clinic. They treated everything from occasional seasickness to heart attacks. In the case of emergencies, the ship heliport was enlisted. Exploring New Lands In the entire four years, I can say that I never felt seasick. We traversed the notorious Drake Passage four times on the Antarctica voyage and only once were the rough waters problematic. The roughest sea I experienced was between the west coast of Greenland and Nova Scotia, when the captain admitted he was plowing through the waves in an attempt to get residents to the nearest airport for flights to their land homes following the Greenland expedition. That was the day a solid stone, very heavy antique wine rack in my living room traveled across the room and cracked. A highlight for me of life on The World was to wake up in a new port. The idea was to explore land locations for however many days the residents had decided, and then to board the ship in the evening and wake up the next morning at a new destination. In each port, the ship concierge team arranged several options for exploring in small groups or helped guide whatever private options a resident might choose. Many of the ports offered us at least a week to unwind, and several longer excursions (or expeditions) were led by National Geographic experts, including in Greenland, Madagascar, and Antarctica, where we had a five-week deep dive. So, the claustrophobia often associated with cruises was a non-issue. Constant exploring occasionally became exhausting, and when that happened, residents often would enjoy a day on the ship. On the top deck there was the only full-size tennis court at sea. With the putting green, golf simulator, beauty salon and spa, fully-equipped gym with personal trainers, the large library, as well as onboard clubs, made it impossible to run out of things to do. Private Tours — and Learning Real History My favorite highly curated experience happened when we docked in St. Petersburg. One of the residents from Russia had arranged for us the first-ever private viewing at the Hermitage. For several hours, we wandered freely from magnificent room to magnificent room. There were no other visitors and only a few unobtrusive guides to assist. While the ship circumnavigated the islands of Japan, our concierge arranged a private meeting with a survivor of the Nagasaki bomb. He solemnly told us of his day with all of its small details, and then of how that day impacted the lives of the survivors, who were shunned by their fellow citizens because of the radiation exposure. Then there was Vietnam. When docking in North Vietnam, I wondered how the people would greet us. The warmth with which we were met and the friendliness and curiosity of the locals surprised and humbled us all. Everyone, it seemed, was an eager entrepreneur and wanted to know more about America. When the residents visited the Hanoi Hilton where John McCain had been imprisoned, the local guide offered to skip the recorded narrative, but instead, we listened, making mental comparisons to the story we had heard at home all those years ago. In Cambodia, I visited Phnom Penh and the “killing fields.” It was so sobering that I was unable to summon the energy to visit Angkor Wat the next day, so I guess that’s one place still on my bucket list. But instead, I took a long hike in the Cambodian jungle and came across a small school where children were learning English. The jungle was unbearably hot and steamy, and I ended my long hike by walking fully clothed into the sea. Pirates — and Avoiding Missiles Later in the voyage, on the other side of the world, we traveled through the Red Sea. One morning, approaching the east coast of Africa in the Bab al Mandab strait, the Captain radioed the U.S. Coast Guard for an escort, because a Houthi missile had been fired from the Yemen coast at the ship ahead of us. We residents were relocated to the ship’s “hold” for safekeeping, which lasted for several hours. We safely completed the passage later that day, escorted by two large Coast Guard vessels. On another adventure, we were joined by a team of heavily armed sharpshooters in camo gear who had been enlisted to protect the ship against pirate attacks as we proceeded along the east coast of Somalia. Metal statues of armed soldiers were placed on the top deck to deter boats from approaching. It was surreal to witness the commandos and their target practice from the stern, and to keep an eye on numerous small boats visible in the distance. Exploring Antarctica There are so many places and so many stories, but a highlight had to be the five-week voyage in Antarctica, where we visited an American research station and celebrated the Christmas and New Year's holidays by walking on glaciers (after sterilizing our boots), and watching penguins waddle along the penguin highways. A 3-week deeper dive into the region included visits to South Georgia Island and the Falklands, ending in Buenos Aires. The famous explorer, Ernest Shackleton, was buried on South Georgia island (his wife didn’t want his body returned), and as I visited his grave, a huge seal lunged at me and I had to be rescued by two men! Becoming Disenchanted As the years of exciting explorations went by, I noticed that conversations with my fellow travelers were less about the politics and history of the locations we explored, and more about the water aerobics at the ship’s pool, upcoming onboard weddings, and bar mitzvahs. Instead of scholarly lectures in the ship coliseum, we were subject to fashion shows and instructions on how to organize our closets. And inevitably, the new and more socially oriented residents cavorted with each other and with members of the crew. It was not quite the Love Boat, but I feared we were heading in that direction. That’s probably all I should say about that! I decided to sell my glamorous condo and return to life in New York. While the magic of the voyage had passed, the memories were forever embedded and cherished. Now it is left for me to share them, selectively. Because some of the things that happen on The World should stay on The World!