Nicole schreibt...
Tenerife 2008 |
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In the last years I had always made sure to plan one bigger trip for the winter months to escape the German cold and dreariness this year this had meant to be Egypt, but for a whole set of reasons nothing of that came together and in search of an alternative I finally lost the nerve and will to scramble for an exotic destination when all I wanted were a couple of days of rest and sunshine. In the end I settled for the Canary Islands that have long been every freezing Middle European's winter destination, situated as they are far south off the African coast and yet part of Spain.
I had never felt drawn there but now it seemed to be the best choice and also, at least, a new corner of what has become my favorite European country in the last years: Spain. From choosing the Canary Islands in general to Tenerife in particular was only a small step: Gran Canaria has always been the favorite place of holidaymaking Germans while Fuerteventura attracts the wannabe cool party people, both sets I'd rather avoid.
But mostly it was the fact that Tenerife was the only island with some historic context for me: It was here, during a misconceived attack on the harbour of Santa Cruz that England's famous son, Admiral Horatio Nelson, fresh off the Battle of St.Vincent, lost his arm. A third reason I shall admit here reluctantly as well: When, some time while I was at elementary school, one of my class mates boasted that she was going to Gran Canaria on vacation, I claimed (bold lie, don't ask me why) that we were going to Tenerife. I had underestimated the village grapevine, for word reached my Dad at the pub and my parents quizzed me on why the hell had I lied about going to Tenerife (and secretly rather impressed that I had chosen an imaginary holiday destination most grown ups couldn't have pointed out on a map in the Seventies). So, almost thirty years later, I could make up on this claim.
Unlike the trip to Mallorca a few years ago which I had cobbled together with the help of bargain airlines and a nice hotel in Palma found on the internet, I had gone the all-out package tour-route this time. Which meant crawling out of bed at an ungodly hour to catch a charter flight to Tenerife (by way of Las Palmas). The people stuffed into the plane with me brought out the worst in me. I still believe that Germans so dearly love to travel because it gives them an excuse to throw off whatever invisible shackles they usually think are holding them and become a loud, obnoxious lot living on the "Me First and gimme gimme" philosophy from the fat woman beside me hogging the armrest to the old lady staggering forward in tiny steps on crutches, but still claiming the middle of the gangway between airport building and actual plane so that it was impossible to pass her by either left or right.
Once arrived and dropped at my hotel of choice - the Gran Hotel Costa Adeje - things looked up. It was warm and sunny and there were free chairs at the pool, so I settled in there to wait for my friend who arrived on a later plane from Munich. Once she had joined me, we had a coffee together and idled at the pool some more before it was time for dinner and a first explorative walk around the area. Costa Adeje is relatively new and choc-a-bloc with upmarket luxury hotels with the odd Centro Commercial (mini shopping malls) thrown in but no visible meeting point where people congregated in the evenings for drinks and fun. The fact that the average age of holidaymakers here is around the 60's mark should serve us well for an explanation.
On our first full day we headed down for the beach where we also found a promenade with bars, restaurants and little shops, which made me hopeful of having found the nightlife at last. But for now we just spent a few hours sunbathing (my friend even braved the frigid waves of the Atlantic) before having a very Dutch lunch at the Belgian café we found (Frikandel speciaal met friet, if you must know but what the heck). Spent a bit more time at the hotel in the afternoon where I managed a swim in the (not very) heated pool at least and after dinner returned to the beach promenade, but found most of the places rather empty still. So we ended back up at the Belgian place where I introduced my friend to the joys of Belgian cherry beer (one shudders to think she actually liked it) and watched Star Wars, which was on Belgian TV that evening, before returning to the hotel. Funny enough there were plenty of people around on the streets actually I guess it's just that this whole area is too far-flung with too many Centros Commercial to gather everyone up in one place for the evening.
Now I fully agree that when you visit foreign parts you should actually go and SEE the place and not just spend your time on your bum at the hotel pool, or you might as well spend some days at the local spa in your home town. Now part of the Tenerife experience is to clamber up the Pico de Teide, which holds the distinction of being Spain's highest mountain, but I'm neither a nature geek nor keen on hiking. Instead I figured out a way to let someone else do the work: A lovely brown mare called Letizia whom I had rented from a German-owned stable in the hills. It was only me and a guide, a nice fella whose name I missed but who was very clearly emigrated from Swabia and he took me up the Teide (well, not all the way to the top) on a six hour ride that included crazy gallops at break-neck speed, the fastest (and best) I've ever done and a look from above onto clouds that covered the valley beyond. Afterwards I went down to Icod de los Vinos to pick up my friend and take a look at the Drago Milenario, the most ancient of the dragon trees that grow only on the Canary Islands and a couple of other places. |
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Going to bed early after the long exhausting ride, we still had the rental car for a second day and went to Santa Cruz, the capital of the island. The main incentives had been the Military Museum with memorabilia of Nelson's attack on the island and the chance to shop at my favorite Spanish clothes shops (oddly it's never the same when I go to Zara or Mango in Cologne). But the carnival in Tenerife was in full swing and we arrived in the aftermath of what must have been a crazy night's partying with the sweepers out in full force and small gaggles of left-over partyfolk in crazy costumes still stumbling around. I swear that the sight of those dark hairy Spanish machos all dolled up in skimpy girl skirts or even the classic red-black flamenco dresses was like nothing I've ever seen before. But they were sweet actually, easy to talk to in a mix of Spanish and English. We visited the Museo de los Belles Artes first which was rather small but had a nice little collection of local paintings that showed Tenerife in the days before mass tourism and heavy agriculture arrived. Then we trudged out to the Almeida Fortress which now hosts the Military Museum. It's a rather eclectic mix of all periods from Columbus to Franco's dictatorship thrown together, but boy are they proud of the fact that they beat Nelson! After a lovely Spanish lunch with tapas we popped into Mango and Zara, then headed "home" south, ending the day on a quiet note with dinner, TV and a (badly) playbacked but well-danced performance of "Saturday Night Fever" in the hotel.
Pure relaxation was on the cards for the final two days of the trip, spending them at the pool side to enjoy the sunshine, followed by evening walks along the Playa de las Americas in the evenings. Overall I am happy that I’ve seen another new corner of my beloved Spain but I really don't think I'd go back to the Canary Islands as it's not really warm enough to swap the German winter for proper summer heat and I'd rather be in a place where the average age is a little below 60, giving us youngsters a few fun places to go to in the evening and generally not feeling like having accidentally trespassed into the Happy Sunshine Home for pensioners. But as a quick getaway for a few days it's definitely not a bad choice either.
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