Saturday 23 December

Having toured Gran Canaria by car in 2016, we decided just to explore Las Palmas this time, using the hop-on, hop-off bus.  The city itself is pretty horrible: largely a grid pattern of narrow streets of mostly 20th century buildings of no architectural merit, though with the questionable charm of overhanging trees that threaten to lacerate your scalp as you drive past in the open top bus.  The bus stops at a grim shopping centre at the end of the Las Canteras beach, but that’s across the road from the new Alfredo Kraus auditorium.  Interesting building, though the architecture struck me as kind of incoherent.  The terrace of the auditorium offers fine views of the long, sweeping beach, where a lot of people were surfing.

From there we hopped back on, and rode through more modern suburbs, pausing to take in a view of the harbour.  More grisly streets later, we stopped for a walk round the Vegueta, which was altogether more ancient and interesting.  The cathedral is pretty hideous, though the interior is more impressive.  Mass was in progress, and as we left, the congregation, somewhat surreally, was singing some kind of dirge to the tune of The Sounds of Silence.  Outside there was a display of folk dance which we watched for a quarter of an hour.  

The bus ride back to the ship was partly along the waterfront, which was pleasant enough.  Just before we joined the coast road, we were passed by a pack of motorcyclists in Father Christmas suits, revving their engines like mad things at the traffic lights.  Hell’s Santa’s?

Back at the ship I did a spot of laundry, slotting in the afternoon quiz while one lot washed and another dried.  As for the quiz, we lost again.  But we also spent quite a while on the balcony, watching the traffic in the harbour.  It’s quite a treat to be able to sit out in shirtsleeves in late December.  We sailed at sunset for our next overnight island hop to Fuerteventura, a new destination for us both.

Christmas Eve

A healthy swell prevented us from mooring at the planned berth in Puerto del Rosario, so we’re berthed at the container quay, which is slightly more sheltered.   Even tied up, the ship is bouncing about a bit, so we may have some interesting days ahead.  

Fuerteventura was cloaked in a miasma of Sahara sand today, so we didn’t get the long views we might otherwise have done (and I had something akin to hay fever all the time we were out).  The landscape is pretty arid, and quite mountainous.  We took a tour to Ajuy and Betancuria, the first capital of the Canaries.  At Ajuy, the waves were crashing on to the black sand beach, and we were just about blown off our feet.  The cliffs are fascinating, showing the effects of wind and wave erosion.  Betancuria lies in a hollow, some distance inland, so I guess it must have been chosen as capital for its relative shelter from the wind, and perhaps for oasis qualities.  These days it’s wall-to-wall tourist traps, but not unattractive for all that.

The vegetation, such as it is, is pretty scrubby, with palm trees in the hollows, and a good scattering of agaves (from which I learn today, sisal ropes are made).  Aloe Vera is farmed and processed on the island, but fruit and vegetables are so expensive to grow here that most groceries are imported from mainland Spain.  Goats are farmed, and the cheese is supposed to be outstanding.  The only piece I could find in the shops was bigger than my fist, so we’ll have to take their word for it.  

I’d have liked to hear more from the guide about the geology and vegetation of the island, but am at least motivated now to do my own research.  So that brings our Canaries visit to an end.  Not our favourite part of the world, but the climate has a lot going for it, at least on the western islands.

Just one port of call left before we return to Southampton: Lisbon, and we’re looking forward to it.

Friday 21 December 

It was good to see the lights of Funchal airport when I first opened the curtains this morning - and to see lots of stars.  Last time we were here it was dull and damp.  We were up for breakfast quite early by our standards, so watched the sun rise over the Ilhas Desertas as we addressed our bacon sandwiches.  We got the shuttle bus into town, then walked along to the cable car station, visiting the bustling Mercado dos Lavradores on the way.  Wonderful displays of fruit and veg, and of course a thriving fish market.  

The cable car ride offers superb views over the city, the water and the mountains round about, but buying the tickets was a kind of linguistic ping-pong.  I asked in Portuguese for our return tickets, combined with entrance to the botanic gardens, and was answered in English.  I paid with the French Visa card, and then got the instructions in rapid French.  Paciência.  

From the Monte top station there’s a short walk to the next cable car to the botanic gardens.  December is perhaps not the ideal time to visit, but it was very interesting nonetheless.  Like much of the island, the botanic gardens are pretty vertiginous, and the paths are not exactly even.  No broken bones, I’m happy to report, but various over-used joints and under-used muscles are protesting a bit.

Once back to sea level, we enjoyed a walk along the prom, which was a building site when I first visited some years ago.  We stopped for a glass of something at a cafe near the water, meeting by chance a Canadian couple, Jill and Ed, who turn out also to be on the QE.  Hope we connect with them again: friendly, interesting people.

We decided to eat pre-paid, ie back on board, and to repair to the cabin and balcony for a rest.  As Martyn dozed, I was treated to some entertainment by young people learning wind-surfing, dinghy sailing and kayaking beside our ship in the harbour.  Exhausted just from watching.

Saturday 22 December 

Some fantastic views of moon, clouds, cliffs and water as we approached Tenerife.  A big ask for the iPad camera, but I’ll see later if Photoshop can help.

We had pre-booked a small car with an automatic gearbox, but arrived at the rental office to find that they’d assigned us a 4x4 Volvo of similar size and attitude to my Ateca.  CICAR have a new office next to their car park, and we were served by the same helpful booking clerk as two years ago.

Altogether a far better experience than last time.  For a start, the weather has been sunny, warm and calm all day, and we were able to get up into the Teide National Park this time.  Beautiful drive, with terrific views across to Gran Canaria, La Palma, La Gomera and El Hierro.  Above the tree line, the landscape is like nothing I’ve seen before.  Arid, empty scenery with sweeps of granular volcanic rock everywhere, and some astonishing multi-coloured strata.  We paused by the Garcia rocks at the foot of the cone of Mt Teide, but opted out of the ride to the top in the cable car.  I’m doing a bit better at altitude these days, but 3710m would be asking just a bit too much.

We lunched on a Lidl pastry apiece, tradition oblige, but this time by the water in Puerto Santiago, for which we cared little, then wound our way along to Puerto de la Cruz, where Martyn has stayed some decades ago.  His hotel was still there, but much of the surrounding countryside, once virgin forest and scrub, has been developed.

It has been a day of getting lost.  Although we found our way out of the port easily this time, we took a wrong turning for Puerto de la Cruz, and found ourselves on quite the wrong side of the tracks - unmade roads, overgrown, undeveloped lotissements and some pretty dilapidated housing - and had to retrace our steps.  Since we had some surplus fuel, we’d hoped to explore the part of the island to the north-east of Sta Cruz, but again got last.  We’ve a lot of time for CICAR, but not for their cartographer.  We even struggled to find the entrance to the port, unlike last time, but we did at least negotiate the hairpin bend into the CICAR car park at the first attempt, unlike last time.  I doubt if we’ll visit Tenerife again, but if so, perhaps it’ll be third time lucky.

From what we’ve seen of the resorts, wild horses wouldn’t drag us there.  But the forests and views from altitude, and the sheer magnificence of the National Park make it well worth a visit.  The inland towns also have their charm, even as seen from the main roads.  So we don’t write it off.

17 December

Off at a decent hour: 10:30-ish, and the M25, though busy, kept moving at a decent clip.  We opted for the A3 route to Portsmouth and Southampton, and were there very early, so struck out into the New Forest for our picnic lunch before heading back to the docks.

Boarding was as ever a thoroughly civilised experience: we were guided to where the porters were ready to collect our bags, then motored on to where we’d to hand the car over.  From the car to the cabin took maybe 20 minutes, and it wasn’t long before our bags arrived.  We’re in the same cabin as we used back in 2016, so though we get a bit more movement than in our midships cabin last time, we have less traffic past our door, and next to no mechanical noise.

We’re among friends: the captain is once again Inger Thorhauge, who was in charge last time we did the Christmas cruise.  On the way down for supper, Martyn mused whether we might again bump into a couple we met in the Midships bar two years ago.  They weren’t there, but as we went through the photo gallery, there they were: Pamela and David, so we stopped and had a good catch-up.

Our table is perhaps the least attractively placed of those we’ve had on our cruises so far, but our companions at the next table are a likeable couple from Essex.  Dinner was excellent as usual, and the Picpoul is still in the wine list.

Though the drive to Southampton was pretty brisk, a lot of it was into a low sun reflected off a wet road surface, so I was pretty tired, and have opted out of this evening’s show.  Early night with a good book, methinks.

Tuesday 18 December

Less mechanical noise, maybe, but once the wind and swell got up to strength, the old tub started heaving about, with much creaking, crashing and banging.  Just as well we’re good sailors, though we each felt a bit queasy from time to time, and sleep was pretty well impossible.  As we returned to our cabin after (a rather thinly attended) breakfast, the captain came on to the PA to say that we’re sailing into a 60kt wind, but that the movement of the ship has rather to do with the 4-5 metre swell.  She tells us that improvement is expected in the evening, so we might catch up on lost sleep tonight.  Meanwhile, I’ve finished one book, and am glad I have a couple more lined up.

Unfortunately, every time the ship heaved, part of the floor plating popped noisily up, then noisily back down again.  As my bed was resting on said plating, I got sporadic jolts through the night, which meant that I got very little sleep.  When the same phenomenon showed up on night 2, I had had enough, and rang the purser’s office.  A dame turned up pretty quickly, and said she’d show me a cabin where we’d get better sleep.  It turned out to be an inside cabin, so I rejected it.  A more senior person then appeared, took a video of our oscillating floor plating, and took us to a balcony cabin that we could use for the night.

Wednesday 19 December

The cabin was right at the blunt end of the ship, so, as we’d already changed for the night, we had to pad along the corridors in dressing gowns and slippers, and repeat the process in reverse next morning.  The cabin was a bit bigger than our first one, and we slept reasonably well.

This morning we learned that cabin 2 is booked from an intermediate port, so after breakfast we were on the move once again.  

Breakfast was kedgeree, complete with curry sauce.  (Memo to self: smaller portion next time, and no curry sauce.)  Cabin 3 is the same, smaller, size as cabin 1, but we can cope.  It’s two decks down from where we started, and even closer than before to the sharp end.  The sea remains quite rough, so we’re being thrown about a bit, and get the occasional crash of a big wave under the bows.  But I’m in no danger of losing my kedgeree - and the floor all moves in one piece.

Another day of reading, eating, sleeping, a couple of quizzes and an excellent, if loud, show of Hollywood song and dance in the evening.  We spent a bit of time up in the bar above the bridge, watching the horizon rising and falling ahead of the bows.  Occasionally quite dramatic!

Thursday 20. December 

The sea was still a bit lively overnight, but since our cabin is rather more solid that the last two, we slept well: I first checked the time at 06:45-ish.  By lunch time we’d walked the length of the ship a couple of times, inside and out, done a quiz and attended an informative lecture on Picasso.  The weather has improved a lot, so there were quite a few people sitting out on deck this morning, and even one hardy type in the swimming pool.

Fish and chips in the pub, then a nice little piano recital of pieces by Haydn, Schumann, Debussy and Albeniz, very well attended.  I don’t know how many pianos there are on board: certainly four in areas accessible to us lesser mortals in steerage and there is at least one suite with a graaand piaaano in it.  The one we heard this afternoon in the Queen’s Room could do with a visit from the tuner/fettler: not clear whether they have one on board.  Time will tell.

Early morning rituals

Click here for the annual ramblings

One of mine, if I happen to be up and about, is to get any necessary Sainsbury’s shopping over and done with before 08:00, at which hour it is almost bearable.  That I did today: the shopping was done and the tank was full by just after the hour.  Fewer dithery shoppers, lots of parking space and no queues for checkout.  There were rather a lot of pickers & packers around, though, and they were making no effort to get out of the way of ordinary customers.

It was a chilly morning, so I was surprised to see one chap out doing his shopping in shorts.  Must have been a postman.  Surprising also to see a couple of women in their night clothes out walking their dogs.  One fluffy pink dressing gown, one short jacket over baby blue pyjamas.  (Said he, who is usually in dressing gown and slippers when he puts the bins out...)

L'administraaation française

Another tax demand from Carcassonne a couple of weeks ago for property tax and TV licence fee for 2018. As on numerous past occasions, I replied that I no longer own property in France, and haven't since 2017.  Well, following my increasingly snotty response, I think I now have a full pack of letters saying that I have been accordé un dégrèvement in relation to all three taxes.  Given that I was liable to none of the taxes in the first place, to say that I've been 'granted a rebate/relief' is a bit rich.  Still, all's well that ends well, though I'm down by the cost of a couple of stamps - and wait to see whether I'm billed again in 2019.

On the subject of postage, we went and bought the stamps for this year's Christmas cards yesterday.  The standard card and envelope weighed in at 11g (which prompted a wry grin from the wonderful Janet at the Post Office), so unfortunately we've missed the first tariff weight step by a measly gram.  I'd have sworn I used the same card as last year.  I don't suppose we'll starve in consequence, but correspondents in continental Europe and the colonies may find their cards printed on Izal toilet paper next year.  As usual, I miscounted, and have to get a few more stamps, so it'll be Monday before the cards are on their way.

Yesterday was fine after a couple of thoroughly dreich days hereabouts, so we took a longer drive to do the messages.  The nicest Fortnums hereabouts is a hop and a skip from my usual hobby venue, so we motored hence on the main road and back down the lanes.  The autumn colours have largely gone now, the good news being that, with fewer leaves on the trees, the views are more open.  At Fortnums, I chuckled to see so many Jags, 4x4 Benzes, Volvos and the like, remembering the opposition from the posh neighbours to the building of such a down-market shop.  (It is true, of course, that the stock policy is somewhat fancier there than most of their shops.)  Martyn asked 'Where is [name of posh area mentioned]?  So we drove through it on the way to join the lanes back home.  Not so much the gin & Jag belt, more the Pimms & Porsche zone.  There are some spectacularly extravagant properties up there, with places little bigger than ours commanding fully three times the price.  Top marks to those who can afford such places (except the footballers, of course), but one feels moved to ponder at whose expense their fortunes were made.

Today it's back to dreich with a vengeance, so it was comfort food for lunch.  Inspired by the Grand Café in Limoux, we occasionally do a pizza dite norvégienne.  Once the machine-made part-wholemeal base is done, heat the pizza stone to a high temperature.  Hand stretch the dough and finally roll to shape on greaseproof paper, then raise for 20 minutes at 40°C.  Sparing coating of crème fraîche, topping of fresh and smoked salmon and big prawns (typically at least double the Grand Café portions), capers, mozzarella, pepper and a drizzle of olive oil.  Slide the pizza, paper and all, on to the preheated stone, and bake at at least 230°C for 10 minutes.  Slide it off the stone and the paper on to a a big wooden board.  Serve with oregano and spicy oil.  Effective only as part of a calorie-controlled diet, I need scarcely add....