After a long sunset, the last I see of Honolulu from my cabin window is the blinking red light of the lighthouse at dark out near Diamond Head, where a group of us visited earlier in the day.

I left the group tour early to visit some of the historic sites downtown. Picked up some supplies for the library at a very reasonably priced office supply store 3 blocks away from the pier. And hurried back to see whether a friend, Ann, wanted to make the trek with me to visit the historic Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Waikiki.

Ann warrants a few words: She’s a stalwart, 89-year-old traveler who is simply amazing. But it turns out she partied late the previous night with other “lifelong learners” on the voyage and she decides to stay ship-side to rest.

I clean up and toss on makeup and a nice summery dress and tear-out the gangway for a $2 bus ride on my own to the nearest bus stop. It takes me a while to find the Royal Hawaiian because it is no longer in sight from the main street.

When I find it I am enchanted and wonder why anyone with money would ever choose to stay anywhere else. Pink walls. Green shutters. On the ocean. I ask whether there’s any afternoon tea since the bus was late and I’ve got to be back on board ship no later than 6pm for sailing by 8pm. No. But it’s fortunate for me that the only place that is open is the Mai Tai Bar, under an umbrella and surrounded by a sea of umbrellas with tables and chairs right on the beach. A Hawaiian group is getting ready to play.

I ask what’s in a Mai Tai and it sounds so good I order one with a grilled cheese since I missed breakfast to get out for my first land-side coffee in 19 days. The special effort to visit the hotel earns me a bit of heaven for the last two hours of time in Honolulu and I happily dispatch the last 30 of the 60 postcards I send from Honolulu—our last chance at US postal rates—while watching the sailboats and surfers and swimmers.

A final call to Kenneth at US cellular call rates ends the afternoon. There won’t be another call I can afford to make until May in Florida.

I’ve dawdled at the oceanside bar, reluctant to leave the warm breezes and friendly music but I finally do. Leave my postcards with the concierge to mail and ask the doorman to call me a taxi. Traffic is awful and the fare comes to $20 plus $2 tip. Worth every penny. Perfectly delightful.

A few additional photos from the last day in a beautiful place: