The Canary Islands: Wine and the End of Year Party

 One winter, my family and I embarked on a journey to the Canary Islands, situated off the coast of North Africa, to celebrate the year-end holidays. These islands, a bit farther south than the Mediterranean, are renowned for their numerous volcanoes. My destination was one of the islands in the archipelago, Lanzarote. It's a Spanish territory where the predominant language is, unsurprisingly, Spanish.

Upon landing at the airport and traversing the island by bus, I beheld many curious sights. I noticed peculiar circular enclosures made of stone, with greenery growing in sunken centers. Our guide explained that these were vineyards. The island, formed from volcanic ash, experiences strong winds, making it challenging to cultivate taller crops. Thus, they construct enclosures with rocks to shield against the wind, creating depressions in the center where grapevines thrive.

That day, our group of nearly thirty individuals was meticulously led around by our guide, showcasing various attractions. We visited places like the Cueva de los Verdes (Green Caves), where operas and concerts are held during the summer, and saw indigenous species like the Dragon Tree.

Later, we ascended the Montañas del Fuego (Fire Mountains) volcano. Given that most of our group were elderly, we opted to ride camels to reach the summit. Despite it being winter, the air was warm, and the sun beat down intensely, leaving our throats parched.

Reaching the summit, we witnessed water poured into the volcano's hole erupting into steam, transformed into hot springs. After admiring the surrounding mountains, we made our way to a nearby winery. In fields resembling dark volcanic ash, grapevines grew low to the ground within semi-circular enclosures made of stones, just as our guide had described. Contrary to my expectations of tall grapevines, reminiscent of grape-picking scenes, it seems such towering vines weren't feasible on this island.

By the end of the winery tour, everyone was exhausted from the heat. As a conclusion, we indulged in wine tasting, with small cups of white wine laid out for each of us to sample. I also partook in this ritual.

Perhaps due to drinking it amidst the scorching midday sun, the white wine was refreshing, subtly sweet, and incredibly satisfying, permeating every sense. Though just a sip, it tasted more delightful than any water, reviving me instantly.

While the winery offered wines for purchase, time constraints urged us to hastily board the bus and head towards our next destination.

During our stay on Lanzarote, we decided to venture into a local supermarket. We figured that if they made wine here, they must surely stock some of the local produce. Rows upon rows of wine bottles greeted me as we perused the aisles. With most labels in Spanish, my ffamily and I carefully scrutinized each one in search of a bottle from Lanzarote. Despite the language barrier, the store attendants endeavored to assist us, and eventually, we procured what we believed to be the local white wine. Chilled in the hotel refrigerator, we eagerly uncorked it after dinner, finding it to be crisp and delightful. Yet, its taste couldn't compare to the exquisite pleasure of that single sip enjoyed amidst the scorching midday sun.

Then came the evening of December 31st. Our hotel, a favorite among British tourists, had prepared a fusion of British and Spanish customs for the occasion.

The New Year's Eve dinner commenced a bit later than usual. Dubbed a Gala Dinner, it featured a sumptuous spread beyond the usual buffet fare. Wine was, of course, on offer, predominantly white, complementing our evening meal.

As dinner progressed leisurely, nearing around 11:30 PM, the hotel manager, an elderly gentleman, made his entrance into the dining hall, carrying a miniature replica of Big Ben, the iconic clock tower of the Houses of Parliament in London.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for choosing our hotel to spend your New Year's Eve. It has been our tradition to blend Spanish and British cultures here, with a special celebration. In Spanish tradition, as the clock strikes midnight on December 31st, It's said that in the last minute of the year, if one manages to consume as many grapes as their age, good fortune awaits them in the coming year. I will now distribute grapes to each of you. Please prepare by removing them from their bunches. The countdown to the New Year is imminent. On my count of five, I invite you all to eat your grapes heartily. And when Big Ben strikes midnight, the game concludes. Here we go..."

At the manager's cue, everyone in the dining hall began devouring their grapes. Some attacked them with gusto, while others leisurely savored each one. In what felt like a blink of an eye, the minute had passed, and Big Ben chimed in the new year.

"Happy New Year! So, who managed to eat all their grapes?"

Naturally, only the young children, aged around five, six, or seven, raised their hands. The manager invited them up to the replica Big Ben, presenting each with a "first luck of the year" gift. Applause ensued, marking the end of the dinner.

After dinner, exchanging "Happy New Year" greetings with fellow guests in the corridors, we made our way back to our room. It was a small gesture, but thanks to the hotel's arrangements, we had enjoyed a memorable dinner, making for a delightful New Year's Eve.

This essay is a part of my book "A Tipsy Journey Through Europe"