It was another cloudy day, with a chill in the wind greeting us as we wrapped ourselves up to leave the apartment. This was getting beyond a joke. A change of scenery may be as good as a rest, but when the scenery comes with persistent cloud and a brisk Atlantic breeze, the novelty begins to wear thin. We tried to cheer each other up, but the truth is we don’t enjoy this sort of trip quite enough to endure it indefinitely in poor weather.
To lift Karen’s spirits, I suggested the very short walk to the Kalma Café next door. It was absolutely heaving despite not even being visible from the main strip. It was also noticeable that most of the customers appeared to be locals, which was slightly surprising given that the prices were about 50% higher than those to be found on the main strip as well.
Karen ordered a very impressive-looking yoghurt and fruit bowl while I went for the English breakfast. Both were excellent and we enjoyed them as a treat.
When the next highlight of the morning is walking to Spar to buy the toilet rolls, we forgot yesterday, you know our enthusiasm is not exactly soaring. No blame whatsoever was placed on Karen – clearly not her fault – but we did once again agree that if we were able to walk further, we would have better enjoyed ourselves.
We took our fresh baguettes back to La Peñita and ate them outside in the occasional bursts of muted sunshine. When the sun appeared it was almost an acceptable temperature; when it didn’t – which was most of the time – it was distinctly cool.
Karen suggested we go and play mini golf, but I really wasn’t feeling it and felt the cost was frankly exorbitant. Karen then admitted she didn’t particularly want to go either and suspected it wouldn’t do her hip any favours. She had only suggested it to try and cheer me up. Instead, we sat and read our books for a while before heading out to Dos Mil so Karen could have a latte and cake. The time I spent standing in the queue gave Karen ample opportunity to secure the prime table at the front of the café.
We sat there for far longer than we should have.
During this time, I finally persuaded Karen that we needed to make a high-level decision about where the bulk of our January 2027 holiday would be spent, rather than analysing the intricate detail of every possible option on the planet. This pleased me enormously because I genuinely didn’t mind which option she chose. And so, after initially a few days in Sydney, it seems we are now New Zealand bound for the following month.
Shoes have intrigued me today.
I believe I can now make a reasonably educated guess about where people are from purely by observing their footwear in Lanzarote:
- Locals wear sensible, practical shoes.
- Continental Europeans wear interesting footwear with colours, patterns and flair.
- The Irish wear brand-new trainers bought especially for the holiday, many pristine white ones
- The British wear Skechers.
This newly acquired skill may prove invaluable when I eventually launch my career as a style consultant. There are, after all, many people here who are still clearly in desperate need of my advice. I imagine gently tapping someone on the shoulder and handing them a freshly printed card reading something along the lines of:
“You clearly need fashion / style / lifestyle guidance.”
I am confident this will be warmly received and my services immediately engaged at very reasonable rates.
Back at the apartment we both read some more before heading out for dinner again. We had booked a table at the Trattoria (Don Raffaelo) again and were pleased to be able to bypass the queue that had already formed.
I had the gnocchi while Karen once again went for the salmon tagliatelle. Both were perfectly good, although slightly annoyingly they tried to charge us for water we never actually had.
Karen decided she had had enough excitement for one evening, so we went back to the apartment and watched the last of Bridgerton before turning in.
Before doing so I checked social media. Yet again I found myself bemused by people using it to make political points. Which part of “social” do they not understand? I have friends across the entire political spectrum, and I like them for who they are, not their political persuasion. What I don’t need is to be preached at by either side. It won’t change my mind — in fact it is more likely to achieve the exact opposite. It would also be interesting to see how many of their dire predictions from both ends over the years have ever actually come to fruition. I confidently predict – none.
The next morning, we both slept until the alarm went off. Our aim was to set off for a walk to Matagorda by 9:30am, and we almost made it.
It was brave of Karen to attempt the walk again, although we were by no means certain she would complete it.
The weather today was cloudy — again — but more patchy and we were hopeful the sun might break through occasionally. At least the wind had lost its chill.
We took things slowly and steadily. Karen looking like Lady Danbury with her usual umbrella was determined to make it to the first Spar in Matagorda before our first sit-down break, and she achieved that target. The next objective was the corner café for coffee, but typically it appeared to be closed on Sundays. So at her insistance we ploughed on.
We passed many people riding mobility scooters and wondered how many had hip problems and how many were simply taking the easy option. We also noticed a few people with sticks who were waddling in a very similar fashion to Karen. We assumed they were either waiting for a new hip or had perhaps just had one installed. We would never know of course, but it passed the time speculating while Karen talked about the targets she was setting herself during recovery period.
As we reached O’Shea’s the sun finally broke through and for a while it was actually rather lovely. We secured the best table at the front and ordered the usual. It was delicious and we ordered additional hot drinks simply to justify sitting there longer.
On our very leisurely walk back, we reflected on the week and concluded that we would probably return despite moaning during the colder periods that this week had been our worst nightmare here. Without using too many idioms, all things considered, despite everything, we had managed to do a few things and — when we looked back on it — we had actually had a good time. The walking we had managed had almost certainly benefited Karen.
We both sat outside the apartment for a while before I left Karen behind at her request and walked to Spoons to watch Norwich’s 5th Round FA Cup match on the large screens there.
I managed to nurse a single glass of house red while watching. The only other people paying attention to the match were a group of ‘dirty’ Leeds supporters at the far end of the bar who thankfully kept themselves to themselves.
For the first fifteen minutes Norwich were actually in the game. For the remaining seventy-five they were not, which explains the eventual 3–0 defeat. I left midway through the second half to return to Karen, feeling slightly guilty about abandoning her. As it turned out she had quite enjoyed the peace and had been catching up on a few “jobs”.
I didn’t even need to ask where Karen wanted to eat for our last night. We quickly got a table at Pinocchio’s without any wait. The food, as always, was excellent — as apparently was the rather strong Irish coffee.
Back at the apartment by 9pm we watched and thoroughly enjoyed the first episode of the new series of The Capture, before spending ten minutes organising things for our departure tomorrow.
Before signing off for the trip — apart from the travel-home day — it feels about time for my annual apology about my writing.
Despite now having written over 620 blogs, I still wouldn’t consider myself a writer. That would be an insult to those who write professionally in all its various forms. I am merely a keen — if distinctly average — amateur.
Primarily these notes exist as a record of our travels. If they happen to interest or amuse others along the way, then that is simply an added bonus.
