8th November 2018
Travelling to the Canary islands has been a trip and a half. It’s eleven o’clock and I’m currently sitting on the plane back to London watching the city lights below from Lisbon twinkle from far, far away. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little sad for leaving.
I think the thing I’ll miss the most is the people. If you actually bother to speak to any of the people around the island, you’ll realise everyone is extremely friendly. Being from a european country myself, I am accustomed to a warm and friendly culture, but living in London has decreased my perspectives on this, as receiving cold and slightly hostile behaviour has become habitual to me. So, you can imagine my face on this trip when we be-friend the cooks in our resort. The locals were just as nice - ethnicity and culture being a great conversation starter. Biggest tip though, learn a few basic words in Spanish, especially if you need any help and no one around you understands English. Plus, it shows that you actually give a shit about the culture, which is always nice.
Lanzarote was arid. A land which everywhere you turn was lunar-like accompanied by a one color landscape; a rich and lavish brick-red. Lanzarote, just like Fuertaventura isn’t the most habited place on earth and with almost no plants being able to survive the scorching temperatures and lack of water, it was interesting to see the way the locals grew and cultivated their grapes to turn into such a sweet and aromatic wine. Surrounding the vines were walls made from rocks which made the most interesting pattern through the mountains and hills surrounding the little café with the best paella I have ever tried. The pattern was made by stones placed by man in order to aid the vines in harvesting due and rainfall, seeing as it was a miracle if it rained on the island.
Travelling through the thinest of roads by a massive coach in the national park of Timanfaya definitely isn’t for the faint hearted. Every second was accompanied by the thought of death and my life being in the hands of someone else. I was astounded at the beauty this island possessed, from the heat on my feet of the volcanoes from down below to the deep cravasses made by scorching lava a long time ago.
Six years of eruptions created lunar-like landscape covered in craters, canyons and entire valleys of solidified lava - it was as if I had set foot on a different planet. Strolling through the black, fine sands only to look up and see the turquoise ocean while the sun glistened over the water was mesmerising. Being from a fast-paced and rapid evolving city, I wasn’t used to landscapes like these, so I sat in awe.
Fuertaventura was just as arid but less lunar-like. Travelling through the island was just as beautiful. From learning about all the miraculous properties Aloe Vera has to visiting a goat farm in the middle of nowhere, to tasting the local traditional biscuits, cheeses and flavoursome cacti jams. Stepping foot on the highest mountain in Fuertaventura was mesmerising. Looking down at the chipmunks climbing up the steep rocks along with the biggest Raven Crows I have ever seen in my life, was a sight and a half. Eight hundred metres up and I felt as if I was on top of the world.
Days spent dipping my toes in the crystalline, warm water to fulling emerging my body in the still bay of Caleta de Fauste watching planes sore above me, wondering where everyone was going was beyond tranquil. As I floated in the water, I watched tourists arrive with a pale complexion to becoming lobsters, as they stood still feeding fish which swam from underneath my feet to the bread floating up above.
I’m sitting on the plane back to London watching the city lights below from Dover twinkle from far, far away. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little sad for leaving.
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