Gran Canaria, Canary Islands, Spain February 16, 2011 5:59 a.m. GMT
Sitting at the Las Palmas Airport, on this anniversary of DeLys Day [when René and I first looked in each other’s eyes for the very first time], we are about to fly Iberia Airlines off of Gran Canaria, an island we lived on for the past month, yet, didn’t really see what it has to offer in the way of its differing environs.
In the Maspalomas area, we could discern the inland mountains and the white villages. We enjoyed the ocean and the dunes. The weather was terrific. We have no complaints. Henry and Wilber hope we will come here again next year. If we do, it will probably be because of these two gentlemen we met who live in Great Britain. Villas Blancas is where we will rendezvous for more laughs and a chat. For Wilber, chatting never comes to a standstill. He has much to recall in his, thus far, eighty-three-year-old life. He says he will be “the Queen Mum and attain a hundred.”
We were picked up promptly at five this morning for the fifteen-minute trip to this airport. One airline had a huge line; Iberia did not. We whisked right through. And, we can sit together on each flight to New York. Yeah! That, in itself, is an anniversary gift.
For our final walk on this Island, we went to Playa del Inglés. This was our first genuine oceanside vacation. [What was I thinking? Does Hawai’i not count? Silly me! In Makaha, on O’ahu, we had a balcony overlooking the Pacific, itself.] It is new to us to be in a close proximity to vacation rentals that go right by, in this case, the dunes — the huge, undulating dunes — that skirt the dwellings and the Atlantic whose waves were inviting. We walked on the beach, through the CitaCenter, before we went down the hill to our home, a bungalow which was comfortable. The past month seemed like a week. This says that we did, indeed, have a good time on Gran Canaria.
Madrid, Spain February 16, 2011 11:57 a.m. CET
This morning, at 4:30, our computer awakened us. Yes, René downloaded an alarm clock. We awoke to René’s arrangement of “Zombie Mouse Goes Bollywood” — Mancini’s “Moon River”. We both admitted this music is not bad music to hear first thing in the morning.
As our plane was taxiing out of its berth at Las Palmas Airport, the strains of “Moon River” were heard over the jet’s speakers. And, guess what was playing when we landed in Madrid? Yes. “Moon River”.
The gibbous moon was setting when we left Maspalomas. As we took off, the lights of the island disappeared under a canopy of clouds.
Oh, when we stepped onto the jet for the first leg of this journey, we heard “Over the Rainbow”. I am glad we got to see a few rainbows this past holiday. A day with a rainbow is a holiday.
It is raining in Madrid today. Rain is much better than snow! We hear that Zwerglipatch has plenty of snow — as well as Crocus coming up by the mailbox. Another Spring is around the corner.
Another vacation has ended. I have to write this once more. Perhaps, that truth will stick in my Teflon brain. The Canary Islands, for Two-thousand-and-eleven, are in the past. The near past which seems like a distant dream.
When René and I return to Zwerglipatch, we will take the New Mexico tour book off of a shelf and read up for our next adventure in April when the Crocus are still blooming.
Iberia Flight #6251 (Over The Atlantic) February 16, 2011 2:14 p.m. EST
Thirty-one years ago, at this time, I had my first glimpse of my future. I knew it was a special moment that I would always remember. I had no idea that this glimpse into René’s eyes would lead me into my Life’s adventure. If anyone thinks that there is no chance of ever meeting the Love of their Life, please, do not be discouraged. When you least expect it: Zap!
A few days before I first saw René, in JWG’s The Gnome Gnotebook, I wrote a single word: Loneliness. Why?I had a ton of Friends. I must have had that inherent dread that I would never have that special Someone to share my Life with. Today, I write: Silly, silly Me!
On this flight, a school group — teenagers — have brought that excitement one usually only hears a half-hour before landing. This is not the case, today. The buzz of excitement has been with us since we took off six hours ago. I can’t imagine the din for this coming last hour. I sincerely wish this group a joyful holiday in Manhattan.
I, myself, am not as sad, as usual, that a holiday is ending. It must be that we have reservations for a couple of more vacations. Zwerglipatch is an interlude — a perpetual interlude. We need, and desire, interludes.