My loyal reader cannot have failed to notice I’ve been away on holiday AGAIN. He – or is it she? – may also be entitled to ask the question: “On holiday from what, exactly?” Okay then, loafing around under a Canarian sun instead of sheltering from the miseries of the British autumn, which is now well underway. Lanzarote was lovely, as it always is.
For many, the Canary Islands are a home from home. You can get all the home comforts like the traditional full English/Scottish breakfast, the Sunday roast, Bingo, Quiz nights, covers bands and karaoke, not to mention cheap booze. All that and more just a couple of hundred miles from Africa, meaning lovely warm, mainly settled weather. On the face of it, the Canaries might appear to be not to everyone’s taste, which is entirely reasonable, but certainly in relation to Lanzarote, there’s beauty if you care to look for it. A good place to start is basically anything associated with the great César Manrique, of which there is plenty.
Anyway, clumsy intro out of the way, I offer some home thoughts from abroad. I hope you enjoy them. Don’t take all of them too seriously!
LANZAROTE CAN GET VERY HOT but there is a welcoming breeze, sometimes a strong wind that takes the edge off the heat. I am not an expert on the technology, but this is how I think it all works:
Dotted all over the island are large fans. When it gets very hot, someone very important switches the fans on and they sent a cooling breeze across Lanzarote. I am well aware that the powers that be could be criticised for wasting energy, but trust me when the heat gets too much those fans are worth every penny.
WE STAY IN TEGUISE which is just north of the capital Arricife. It’s a developed area of white houses and apartments, as well as holiday resort type accommodation. Before I came here, I had a snobby attitude to places like this. There’s some Spanish culture, but almost everything is geared towards the tourist. But now I get it. As I said above, this is a home from home with nice weather. I love walking round the place, enjoying streets of unspoiled British type bars. If I want it, there is a bit of authentic Spain here. In truth, that is not the main reason come here. So what?
I’m more than slightly embarrassed at my lack of Spanish. I am far from alone but I vowed to myself that next time I will try harder.
The really weird thing in Teguise is that some bars divide around football clubs, specifically Rangers and Celtic. Rangers fans don’t go to the Celtic pubs and vice versa. WTAF is that all about? We did watch Rangers on telly one night when they played Liverpool in the Champions League, or rather they didn’t play at all with the Reds winning 7-1. I’d have loved to have been at some of the Rangers pubs for that but it’s entirely possible I might not have survived.
WHEREVER YOU GO IN LANZAROTE YOU WILL FIND ‘LOOKY LOOKY MEN’, African men selling watches, sunglasses and various types of tat, always for a “good price”. I try to be as polite as I can be when making it clear I don’t want to buy any of their tat while at the same time understanding that they have probably come from very poor African towns just across the sea. And they make an absolute pittance. Generally speaking, they’re all very nice people and I rather say a polite no to them than deal with the ghastly time-share touts who used to swarm the streets in the Canary Islands.
IF YOU HAVE NEVER FLOWN BEFORE, IT MAY COME AS A SURPRISE TO LEARN THAT PEOPLE BOOK SEATS FOR THEIR FLIGHTS. SO WHY IS THAT PEOPLE WHO HAVE FLOWN BEFORE ACT SO ODDLY? Our outbound flight left at stupid o clock, so we were in the Departures area (I wouldn’t call Bristol’s area a lounge) enjoying the compulsory pint of lager at around 4.45am. Many were enjoying a full English breakfast, which made me feel slightly sick as I supped my lager.
There are no announcements at Bristol, so you watch the screens which tell you the gate to go to for your flight. Our flashed up and there was a mass exodus with people, some almost running. We waited for a few minutes and strolled nonchalantly to the gate. Then speedy boarders were called, followed by almost everyone else who was at the gate. Again, we waited until nearly last, boarded and went to our allotted seats and almost straight away we were on the move. Why the rush? The plane doesn’t go without you?
When we landed in Lanzarote, another bonkers phenomenon took place: almost everyone immediately stood up. Why? The steps hadn’t even arrived at the aircraft. What were they thinking about?
The return flight was even more mad. Our gate was announced and seemingly everyone formed a long queue. And here’s the thing: the plane hadn’t even landed from Bristol. Again, we relaxed, joining the line as late as possible and went to our allocated seats. Again – why the rush? Do people like spending extra time on a plane that’s not going anywhere? When we landed, the maddest thing happened: spontaneous applause broke out among the passengers. Now, there had been no turbulence, the landing was straightforward; why was anyone clapping? No one applauds when a bus or a train stops, so why do so when a plane lands? I was still trying to get my head round it when everyone stood up in order to get off.
Again, we waited to leave the plane, we walked down the steps and got on one of the three buses waiting for us which contained everyone who dashed off first. D’oh. But here’s the big surprise: passport control went like lightning and our cases arrived very quickly. It looks like Bristol Airport has got its shit together.
I WAS APPALLED TO HEAR QUEEN’S DIRE MUSIC VOMITING FROM MY BLUE TOOTH SPEAKER WHILE ON HOLIDAY. For reasons best known to herself, my beloved partner and carer decided to listen to an Apple generated playlist on my phone which included Queen. I was appalled – and I am not joking. I made an immediate attempt to delete the song only to download it to my collection. At least I hadn’t paid for it, but the shame and embarrassment. Imagine if we had all died on the spot and my phone was recovered playing ‘Another One Bites The Dust’? The funeral director might think, “Ah, he’s a big Queen fan. Let’s play that at his funeral. He’d have liked that.” And everyone I know would think: “So he was a Queen fan all along. What a hypocrite. He always said they were shit.”
I’ve deleted it now but I still shudder at what could have been.
AT LEAST I ALMOST WORE THE RIGHT CLOTHES COMING HOME. I had denim three-quarters – actually, they were nearer halves – and a warm top. They felt awful in Lanzarote but were just about adequate for the shock I felt getting off the plane. How the women wearing absurdly short shorts felt as they shivered down the steps of the aircraft, I am glad I will never know. I’ll bet they will do the same thing next time.
