Trans-Atlantic in a nutshell

Sunday, May 13, 2007

What an amazing trip this has been! The Grand Crossing was so magnificently different from any kind of other travel; Scott and I have decided we liked it best. Luckily, there were no storms – perfect weather, in fact. There’s a calm in fewer choices of things to do. Of course, there were also more than double the number of musicians and various get-togethers during that time. The Regent Voyager is top of the line; so all the accoutrements were spectacular, service remarkable, with wonderful food!

Water slapping slides, sloshing in the center pool, extra hot whirlpools, and ice cream every afternoon. Big band every other night. They liked our shows, and the second performance night Mike Vax (whose big band is the one booked), announced that we’d become the darlings of the ship.

Funchal Island, of the Madeira archipelago, was first land after our crossing. A beautiful green vision rising out of (by that time!) all that profoundly vast sea. Neat, clean, birds, flowers, exotic, warm – everything you’d want in an island destination. We shutterbugs just walked.

Lanzrarote, Canary Islands was our second port. A lava desert, we needed to organize some music for the rest of our trip, so didn’t go into town. Seemed to be a more contemporary ship stop. If we’d paid for a tour, it would have included a couple hours ride to another town, camel ride, etc., but we decided not to.

Agadir, Morocco was a very interesting port. Another “new” place – leveled in 1960 by an earthquake. I wore a scarf in town. Good camouflage. Adventures with urchins “circling” our outside lunch table, watching the proprietor literally kick them in the butt down the street to drive them away. Found some really neat black stone imbedded with fossils made into plates and bowls and bought a few. It was from up the river in the area, in a town called, they pronounced, “Are Food”. Right, our food is gonna be in it…Yeah, I’m the only person you know who packs rocks in my luggage.

We went into port in Casablanca, Morocco and walked from the old town center to the new mosque on the seashore. Must have been 3-4 miles… This is the third largest mosque in the world. They say the sea can be seen underneath thru a glass floor, and it’s one of the only ones that foreigners are allowed inside. We didn’t go inside… The grounds outside were immense, white block rock and green trim. Gorgeous.

Malaga, Spain was totally different. Picturesque, church towers and a Moorish fortress and hill top battlements. Just the right size! After the economic neediness and accompanying squeamish feelings as a vulnerable visitor of Morocco, a blessed feeling of safety.

In Valencia – one more afternoon to explore a port – tomorrow we disembark in Barcelona. Sunday afternoon most tourist sights would probably be closed, and siesta on top of that. We took one bus about ¼ mile to a cruise ship embarkation center, but decided, however, after the disorganization of the bus departures there that we didn’t even want to go into town. Spending a lazy afternoon directly across from the reviewing stands at the America Cup festivities. Valencia definitely seems like the largest port we’ve docked in. Casablanca was the most mind boggling big city, stretching along the coast as far as the eye could see. Economic differences are light years apart.