Saturday, April 19 was the day of the DV Shore Excursion in Lanzarote and it was a perfect match for all we had heard about Lanzarote.  You can be told a place is “volcanic” but even the wonderful onboard education we got couldn’t prepare us for vineyards that looked like this:

We talk about quality in Napa, hand picking, etc.  It’s not a patch on the hand labour that goes into tending these babies.  The vines are three feet down, each in its own hole, with a stone wall windbreak.  The vineyard workers have to climb in and out of the holes to keep them clean and pruned.  How many times do you do that before you pick? 

Lower in the valleys, they can plant in rows, but still far apart and with rock windbreaks:

It will be hundreds of years before this place even starts to look like Napa.  And the earth keeps spinning.  We learned more about the evolution of Lanzarote and heard all about Cesar Manrique’s tragic accident, when we passed the scene of it.  Our next destination was a museum, restaurant and cultural center Casa-Museo del Campesino with its monument to Fertility – Manrique again.  What a difference that one man made.

There was a little glitch, about our gofio and sauce making lessons and we had a free 20 minutes, so some of us shopped and some grabbed a glass of wine.  I was in the latter group.  Eventually we were led into a Manrique design a beautiful underground restaurant and the fun began. 

The chef demonstrated how to make gofio.  It’s named after and made with the indigenous corn of the island.  The island got its first desalination plant in 1965, before that there was almost no water, and very little grew.  This gofio stuff is amazingly hardy and needs a fair bit of work to even be edible.  What the early people came up with is the ground corn, mixed with sugar, and a lot of spices.  It comes out like cookie dough and they served us quite a bit of it.  We ate it all.  We knew there was a “tapas lunch” coming, but were unclear as to what that would consist of, although the silverware should probably have given us a clue. 

Next lesson was mojo rojo and mojo verde, the sauces of Lanzarote.  They are good on all sorts of fish and the little potatoes that grow here.  We were served some very good sourdough bread with the two sauces and olive oil.  Then it was three cheeses with fig jam, and bowls full of the little potatoes to have with the two sauces.  Then came fish croquettes, delicious octopus, that we could barely finish.  There was a lot of wine, all through the piece.  Then, and only then, when we were well stuffed, came the main course.  Oh dear God, it was substantial, a block of pork, sort of a terrine, but heated, with gravy, mashed squash, carrots and brussels sprouts. urp. 

Of course there was dessert, again it was some interesting concoction that featured small pancakes and honey.  We waddled out.  My table mates were my regular table mates and the table voted to skip dinner.  Only I could not.  I had a dinner date with my Canadian friend. 

Somehow, I got through dinner, with a glass of wine before and one during.  I drank all this over a period of at least 8 hours, so it never gave any sort of problem, or so I thought.

The next morning, April 20 was Easter Sunday, and we were docked in Agadir, Morocco.  I woke up with a funny sensation on the edges of my tongue.  I have had this before and I knew that I wasn’t going to be having any more wine for a while.  It would really burn.  That was a shame, because I had been invited to dinner with Ron Houtman, the Food & Beverage Manager and that meant free drinks before and wine with. It was a nice congenial dinner table, a particularly delicious dinner, and Ron Houtman was very entertaining, but I did miss my wine. 

On the 21^st, Easter Monday, we were in Casablanca.  I went walkabout with Glen, and nobody bothered us.  Well, hardly anybody.  This fountain on a public square was pretty and attracted both tourists and locals, pigeons and seagulls.

We circled back to the square where we started and I recognized it as having been where Lenora and I were last year.  We were very close to the souk. So, there we went.

And it was interesting.  I even found a thing or two I actually needed.  But mostly it was for the local color and here it is:

Yes, Casablanca is a Muslim city now, so much so that when we went for our beer on the square before I boarded the bus, it ended up being a mocktail.  They were good, and the waiter took pictures but they are on Glen’s camera, so I don’t have one for you.  It’s the usual, just sans alcohol, which is good for my tongue, anyway.  Might as well do liver cleanse month, now that I have a start on it. 

At dinner, Suellen diagnosed my problem as possibly sugar related and sure enough, my Montreal nurse practitioner, whom I had contacted, told me to stay off booze, acids and sugar and gargle with warm salt water. 

Coloratura soprano, Christina Johnston was on the stage with a lot of my favorite love songs and arias.

I didn’t even go out in Gibralter on Tuesday, April 22.  I probably should have but work was starting to back up.  I did go to happy hour twice, once with my new friend, Stacy, and the other with my Canadian friend, Glen.  I like them both a lot and we are getting near where I get off, so friendships trumped location.  Of course I have been to Gibraltar before. Yes, I did both happy hours dry, sigh. 

On Wednesday, April 23, we were at sea, and it was time to pack and tie up loose ends.  We’d be in Barcelona tomorrow, and I would be disembarking at 9:00am.  Before I knew it, it was time for the last supper at the table.  I’ll be missing my table mates for a long time, but I know I will see them again.

Thursday, April 24, we docked in Barcelona.  It was a big, interesting day. I have been on board for the Amazon leg of the Pole-to-Pole to be with Wells, Dee, Lynann and a new couple Dee brought to me as clients, Tanner and Suellen.   HAL’s regular Round the World, on the Zuiderdam, is Henk Mensink’s last hurrah as Hotel Manager.  Today, the two ships meet in Barcelona and there’s a lot of partying around Henk’s retirement.  I applied to get invited to the Zuiderdam for that.  It had to be approved by Henk himself and he did.  I was happy, touched and flattered.  Henk and I do have a history of 5 world cruises together and the DV Host’s desk is right outside the Hotel Manager’s Office on the Amsterdam.  I used to sit there working most of every day, very accessible.  Dolly Smith would stop by and chat.  Remember her?  She lived on the Amsterdam for years.  I also spent a lot of happy time with Christel, Henk’s wife and the Guest Relations Manager. 

I checked my luggage with the front desk and debarked at 9:00am so that the ship could get down to its zero count for the segment.  Then I got my visitor’s pass for the Volendam and got back on board.  I ran into Glen, as I was checking my computer out again for a few hours.  He volunteered his cabin for the day, for luggage storage, and I took him up on it, trading one of the too many presents HAL have been giving us. 

Glen was going out for the day, with a couple of his friends, both named Susan, and they waited patiently while he helped me get the 3 pieces of carry-on to his cabin at the other end of the ship.  There we found out that the key they had given me worked, but now his own, didn’t.  That cost him more time at the Front Desk getting a new one, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he has to do it again when he gets back.  No good deed goes unpunished.

I decided to eat around eleven because who knew how the day would go.  I had to wait until 11:30pm for Dive-In, the burger joint by the pool, to open.  So I set up shop with my computer, while I waited.

The Zuiderdam sailed into port and greeted us with her horn.  We blasted back and it nearly blew me off my chair.  Then I felt the tears welling up.  It must have been the good memories.

A half hour later, while I was still chowing down on my Flying Dutchman with caramelized onions, to use In-‘n-Out’s secret menu terminology, Henk and Christel and 3 or 4 very important looking people, doubtless executives from Seattle, strode into the pool area.  I popped up abandoned my food, and very rare for me, my computer, crossed over to port and chased them.  By midships, I had drawn even and shyly waved at Henk, just to let him know I was there.  Next thing you know, I had a big hug from my good old friend and he was calling Christel over.  More hugs and “so happy to see yous”.  The parties don’t start for a couple of hours, but I am properly happy.  It’s a good day.

Lynann joined me for a chat and it was back to Glen’s room to change and rest a bit.  I was to be escorted to the Zuierdam at 4:00pm.  The Volendam 5-star Mariner concierge escorted me to the Zuierdam, where I got another visitor’s pass.  My Zuiderdam escort never materialized and I was fine with that.  I know the Zuiderdam well enough, having spent 4 months on her in 2023.  It turned out I wasn’t invited to the Grand Meet-Up Dinner after all.  That was just for President’s Club and Suite guests.  I could, however have dinner on the Zuiderdam before the party, which started at eight.  Here it was 4:30PM, and I wasn’t going to go back and forth to the Volendam.  Ships are big, and even though they were docked butt to butt, there was quite a bit of distance to cover, and I wasn’t ready to do that twice more. 

I walked around, to see whom I would meet and ran into Tom Mullen, a lovely friend from 5 world cruises, where he was the Criuise Specialists host to my Distinctive Voyages Host.  He would be working tonight.

I was thirsty, so I went up to the Crow’s Nest and had a glass of water.  It was empty, The Crow’s Nest, not the glass.  I didn’t meet another living soul I knew in any of the public areas, so a little after five, I went to the Ocean bar and caught a set of jazz.  At six, I moved to the Rolling Stone lounge and caught a set of Vintage Rock that ended with “Satisfaction”, of course.   The forced relaxation did me a world of good.  At seven, I presented myself in the dining room and enjoyed a particularly delicious dinner with four very nice people. 

A little after eight, it was time for the Grand Meet up party on the aft deck and I understood why the ships were butt to butt.  It was like one big party, only we each only had access to one side of the “room”.  I met up with Ginny Stibolt, right away.  I have known her since 2012.  She’s a HAL speaker now, an authority on all things horticultural.  I know she’s good, I get her blog.  I saw a few other faces I recognized, but had never been friends with, and then I ran into Rosita, who, with her husband Karl, were friends.  Then the toasts and such started, ship to ship, and we heard Daniel as well on the Zuiderdam, as if we had been on the Volendam.  I am guessing they heard the Zuiderdam cruise director, Kim, too.  I was bragging about how good Daniel was, but I couldn’t sell Rosita, who just loved Kim, who she said was the best Cruise Director they ever had.  The 2026 World Cruise will be on the Volendam, and Kim will be the Cruise Director.   It looks like that will work just fine. The last person I had a chance to chat to, before I turned into a pumpkin, if I didn’t get back to the Volendam, grab my luggage and be off by ten, was Lenora, with whom Nona and I had fun in ports in 2023.

I covered the flyway between the ships at top speed, for me, retrieved my bags, turned in my visitor’s pass, and was off through the largely empty terminal.  There were no taxis but I got an Uber easily enough and he got me to my simple airport hotel .  I was in bed by midnight, and slept well, if not long.  A couple of bugs got in the open window and bit me, but even that couldn’t keep me awake.