Santa Cruzing: Part 1

So we're a full week into 2018 now, and things are looking exciting! I've got several weekend jaunts planned in the first half of this year, so hopefully that means lots of skint cityhopping blog posts for all y'all!!!

My most recent holiday was, I'm sorry to report, not one of my signature skint trips, as it was, instead, a rare all-inclusive deal: the first family holiday the Frosts have attempted in about seven years! It's been one to celebrate for the Frosts - Mum got a promotion, Dad landed his dream job, my brother just bought a new car and I... I was there too.

A View From The Bridge

Now, usually, before I go on a trip, I do a ton of research into where I'm going. I try and find the good local places, events, etc. When I went to New York last year I had been planning the places I would go, and the things I would do there, for at least five years!

However, for this trip, my plannage was somewhat interrupted by Gastrogate (see previous blog post! It wasn't pretty.) So all I really knew was that it would be all inclusive - i.e. free food and drink all week! - and that it would be approximately 22 DEGREES THE ENTIRE WEEK (angel music.) And this was enough motivation to get my frail and nauseous-ass body onto the plane.

A View From The Plane

On the four hour flight south, I tried to cram in some Spanish phrases. I focused my frazzled brain, and tried to absorb such gems as "Donde esta el bano?" and "Mi padre es vegitariano," despite my family's claims that I wouldn't need them, as everyone would speak English.

I knew this was probably the case, but still I wanted to try. I didn't want to be that typical "uno coco colo" ignorant English tourist - I especially didn't want to be accused of being a Brexiter!! I was fully ready to immerse myself in the Canarian-Spanish culture of the island.

As we flew through the clear afternoon air towards landing, the imposing shadow of Mount Teide flew high above the clouds proudly, like a flag.

Descending, I was struck with a pang of anxiety at the lack of green. The volcano and it's surroundings remained a grim-looking grey-brown as we approached. Perhaps the cold grip of winter had crept this far south after all? But upon landing, and stepping out into deliciously warm air, all my worries evaporated.

Our Hotel

The number one thing that struck me upon arriving at our hotel was how not-deserted it was! It appeared that we were not the only ones with the irrepressible urge to fly south for the winter!

I felt like I was in Benidorm! Whether doing a calm breaststroke down the long turquoise pool or diving back down into the buffet for round three,

My holiday didn’t really get started until three or four days into the week. I thought I heard the holiday engines spluttering into life just one day in - the day before my birthday - and briefly hit the buffet. Ah - the indescribable enchantment of tomatoes, bacon, BEANS, after days of only water and dry toast...

But alas it was a false start, and I paid for my sweet sojourn of indulgence with being bed bound my entire birthday. Not exactly the way I’d intended to swagger into my twenty-fourth year of existence, if I’m honest.

But we persevere. The (only) good thing about being ill on holiday is that instead of lying in bed, looking out at the roiling grey pathetic-fallacy sky and feeling guilty for calling in sick and leaving your workmates in the lurch, you can lie on a SUNbed in the SUN, feeling guilty about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Makes for a much more wholesome recovery.

By day four, I almost felt like myself again. We took it relatively easy, still, not wanting to stall the car again and render my entire holiday an epic waste of money! So we took a slow, meandering walk along the luscious prom from Las Calletias, where we were staying, to Candelaria, the next town over.

It was so nice to stretch my legs outside the resort!! When we started out, the weather didn’t look too hopeful - grumpy grey clouds had formed and they grizzled overhead, crowding the dark mountains. But it didn’t matter. I felt like a foal who had just learned to walk, or a Seaworldian Orca released unexpectedly back to the sea.

Venturing Out

I was struck by the blue, blue blue of the ocean, looking almost untouched, unpolluted. Contrasted with the steady, colourful parade of neat seaside villas. The whole prom looked newly developed, with “Wet paint” signs in front of shiny, proud new benches, made from the stormy-grey volcanic rock of the island.

A Shiny New Seafront

The beach was also visually, beautifully, striking, with jet black sand - seldom do you see a beach where the sand is darker than the sea, more pepper than salt, more ash than flame! It is absolutely stunning here.

Now, you hear Tenerife, you think “party island,” right? But this is not necessarily the case. There is normal human life here, like everywhere, that is worth seeing and exploring.

There is a quiet pride and simmering passion for their fiery volcanic island that really moved me during my short time there. The roads are all freshly laid, smooth. Their city and towns - at least the parts I saw - were clean and well cared for. Puts parts of England to absolute shame.

But, hey, more on all this when we get to Santa Cruz!! Back to Candelaria. As we approached the town, the quaint villas and local businesses got denser, and the sun emerged graciously from its clouded veil. We were all infinitely grateful for its warming stroke of our faces.

You Are Entering Candelaria

If you’re after a calm, traditional Canarian town, Candelaria is definitely the one. We ambled down the Main Street, lined with stores and Christmas decorations, towards the beautiful Bascilica that we had seen from a distance. They even had a giant miniature model of their town (with a board denoting the owners of each house!) complete with Basilica - and the strange combination of maypole and nativity scene?! Interesting choices were being made, here, guys, but I was living for it.

Mini Candie

Following this picturesque detour, we continued down towards the Basilica. From the amount of Virgin Mary images everywhere, we soon realised that this was a shrine town of some kind. I'm not sure whether that explains the investment - both financial and emotional - of the people and government into this town, but I was sure it had something to do with it!

Now, I love old buildings. But churches (and other storied places of worship) are my absolute favourite kind. I'm not interested in any kind of organised religion, but I must say there is something uniquely thrilling about sitting in a pew and knowing that people have been coming here to commune with the universe for centuries - even millenia. So I was really in my element in the hushed, charged air of this sacred place.

Visiting the Basilica

By now, the sun was thankfully beaming, and I was feeling much more like a normal human with a regular functioning digestive system!

The few people we met here were friendly - there were surprisingly few “ugh, tourist” eye rolls! I even got talking to a local "gato" lady in my broken Spanish!! She showed me photos of her gatos and everything. Cute.

What made me buzz was the youthful, vibrant feel to the town. Incongruous (but expertly executed) graffiti scattered stray walls, whilst classical Spanish-style verandas overlooked the narrow street. Candelaria seemed to me a fusion town: old and new; traditional and forward-looking - the emotional equivalent of eating sushi outside St Paul's Cathedral.

Not sure if it was just the fact that I hadn't kept food down in almost a week now, or the giddy feeling of pure sunlight on my pale cheeks, but I felt strangely out of joint. I felt peaceful, but buzzy, excited but calm. This sense of oddness only intensified as I passed the strangest Christmas tree, in the square directly in front of the basilica, that I had ever seen...

Christmas... in the Sun?!???

I realised soon that what I was feeling was what I feel every year at Christmas - that warm, safe, homey feeling. But the reason it felt so peculiar was that I was actually PHYSICALLY WARM! My body was baffled, and I just wanted to sleep. So we headed home.

It's 1am now, and I can feel that same feeling creeping into my periphery, shutting off my senses and making me yawn repeatedly. All right, body. I get the message.

Just as in the case of writing up my New York trip, I have been somewhat overambitious in thinking I could write up a whole week's worth of adventures in one day (HAH) so I am forced to make this part 1 of ?!???

And I promise: The sequel WILL be better than the original! Maybe in the next part, we'll get all the way to Santa Cruz (I mean, unlikely, as that was the end of the week but DAMMNIT I WILL TRY. For you. And if not, there'll have to be a part 3!!)

We'll get there,

Char

xxx