Let's be honest - the cruise industry is all about the cheese.
For despite the ships' grandeur, there's also much that's garish and gaudy, tacky, kitsch, lava-lamp opulent and other things a cat would hiss at.
Thus, it's a mode of travelling that draws a wave of criticism.
Years ago I was invited to write a piece aboard a palatial liner that docked in Napier. It was a sunny, balmy, ideal day for passengers to walk the gangway into Napier.
To my horror, hundreds of middle-agers remained aboard, next to the pool, sipping cocktails and eating buckets of nachos. A tour of the different levels revealed the ship was in fact a floating food court.
Sitting among scores of cruise passengers last week at a Napier cafe, where everyone bar my wife and I were wearing lanyards, I wondered if much of the criticism stems from the fact the clientele are mostly baby-boomers.
The generation continues to cop a towelling for being the progeny of the Greatest and Silent Generations - who themselves were raised during the toil of the Great Depression and World War II.
The theory (not held by the author) is that the boomers were then handed the fruits of this graft on a silver platter, and, consequently, eschewed their parents' altruism and embraced more hedonistic pursuits.
To those who think this way, said ships are a symbol of boomer indulgence.
It doesn't help that it's the most sedentary form of travel; the only thing moving is the briny beneath the draught.
But, truth be told, I'm jealous. I adore pools, pina coladas and Mexican food. While the ships may attract the least intrepid type of traveller, the liners remain a welcome windfall.
Bring on the cheese, I say.