I thought my trip to the Canary Islands was going to be the next big holiday where I could photograph all of the things and have TONNES of stories to bring back for everyone. Well, we certainly got some stories out of it! But I grossly under estimated how many activities I would want to do once I saw the view, the pool and the buffet.
The trip very rapidly turned into one involving copious amounts of lazing about and eating ice cream, coupled with morning walks on the beach with one of my good friends, Claire.
When we first arrived at Fuerteventura airport we were already an hour behind schedule. Our flight was delayed out of Gatwick, giving us an extra hour to sip our beverages in the Costa. So instead of beginning our adventure to find the resort in day light, we arrived on the back of a dramatic sunset.
I’d had a rough flight. It seemed the whole flight was full of people so keen to make it to their holiday destination that they completely forgot they were sharing the fuselage with anyone else. Here are a few of the notes I wrote while on the plane:
I have a crotch in my face for the fifth time in the last two hours. The girl sat in front of me cannot let a few moments pass without jumping up again to retrieve something or other from her bag, which is inconveniently positioned in the locker above my head.
This flight is full of mostly English holiday makers headed for Fuerteventura in search of some winter sun this Easter. They click their fingers and gesticulate obnoxiously at the cabin crew; demanding more tiny bottles of prosecco, badgering them for oblong boxes of hot meals concealed under an unappetising tin lid and I have to keep mentally reminding myself than being able to go on holiday is a privilege (a mantra I wish I could emphatically yell in the face of my neighbour who is reaching over me again without an attempt at gaining permission to enter my personal bubble).
This island better be worth the 3 hours and 55 minutes it takes to get there. It’s half plea half threat. I can see the bottle edging closer to the end of my neighbour’s tray table. The side nearest me. It’s an accident waiting to happen so I am pleased to observe the bottle is empty. It falls, catching me in the knee. I accept an apology with a smile and in inward voice says in exasperation ‘you’re not alone on this flight! Try to keep yourself to yourself at least a little!’
After arriving we had hoped to take a bus to our resort which was at the far south of the Island. Unfortunately we had now missed the scheduled public service and were joining a long line for a taxi. A British travel company employee inside the terminal had been extremely unhelpful here – informing us that 14 flights had landed together due to schedule changes but not giving us any other options other than the sad queuing reality we were already aware of! She really need not have iced that cake unless she was going to provide alternatives.
But the queue moved quickly enough to want to praise the Canary Island taxi service and we climbed into a car after 20 minutes. The driver got out to tell another that he was going to Jandia (after we had a couple of drivers who did that, I assume it’s their policy to tell someone when they will be off the grid for two hours). We drove off into the night, listening to pop music for 1 hour and 15 minutes before pulling up at the resort – ironically earlier than the bus would have.
We decided to stay at Barcelo Jandia because they had a premium club that is adults only. It’s not that I don’t like kids – I just thought it was time to enjoy a poolside holiday in complete silence (I was not disappointed. No one talks to each other in the adults area. Every couple or group kept to themselves and I swear I only heard one cross party conversation stream in three days).
Checking in was a simple process. Although I was travelling with a backpack and looked completely out of place, I had that special premium booking which mean we got outstandingly personalised service. The receptionist greeted us and was very helpful at showing us what facilities we could avail of (all of them). She wrapped our wrists with a black band and advised us that although dinner was over, they would send us up a cold meal ‘soon’. Then she directed us to our room ‘which has sea views,’ she told us joyously.
Of course, there was nothing to see when we got into the room. It was pitch black outside and it did not matter because Claire and I immediately took to emptying all the cupboards. We dressed in our hotel robe and slippers, cracked the complementary champagne (coke for me) and began to lounge. A hour later, dinner arrived. It was all Spanish ham and deliciousness and we were very happy indeed.
The only flaw in this plan was the giant double bed rather than the twin room we had requested. Rather than kicking a fuss, we soon discovered that if we both lay on opposite sides and stretched out our arms, we could not touch each other. I built a fort and it was actually quite comfy.
When dawn rose the next morning I sprang out of bed in hopes of some sunrise photos. Unfortunately I was distracted by the most inviting looking pool ever, all azure in the morning light…
And so the holiday began!