The 84 year olds at the table next to us were a chatty couple, they’d been coming here for the last 20 years, so that’s some kind of recommendation! They are also staying in the same apartment block as us.
You will have noticed by now that I’m using the term ‘us’, well yes, I was invited out to dinner tonight by a fellow German motorcyclist, a 35 year old striking blonde female. Just kidding, a 25 stone, 58 year old geezer but hey, any port in a storm as they say! Just kidding again, I’m not that desperate, and thankfully neither is Andreas!
As I head to La Gomera on my third ferry trip of my Canarian adventure, I presently have no plan for five days time, but what I DO know is that I will not be returning to Los Cristianos to stay. I may be coming back to the port, but then I will move on. I have fond memories of Los Cristianos, back in the days before our children were born! Coming here this time served a purpose, it was my first base from where I could take stock, and I’ve taken stock.
The sight of blue sky and sunny weather beckoned me back down to the coast from the 4 degrees I’d been experiencing just five minutes previously.
The day started with a forecast of showers for the morning, it was actually blue sky and 21 degrees as I finished washing a coating of the Sahara from Reg. Yesterday’s brutal wind had disturbed things quite a bit, including the drier branches of the palm trees, which I frequently witnessed nearly having direct hits on quite a few promenade walking tourists.
Two more Reg admirers, he certainly knows how to pull the birds!
But undeterred by the forecast, and to coin a phrase from a hero of mine:
“I have a cunning plan”, and this plan of mine turned out to be about as successful as one of Baldrick’s.
“You see m’lord, as rain usually falls down, then if I get above the clouds it can’t rain on me”.
“Do you have a wife”? Asked the polite Norwegian lady. An unusual follow up I thought, to the series of travel themed questions preceding it. But this was no chat up line, at least it certainly wasn’t received as such, and I’m sure it wasn’t meant to be. Neither was the caring touch of my hand when I said that Rachel had died twenty months ago. I have to admit that the sympathetic touch took me aback, but it was just her trying to figure out why I’d come all this way alone. Maybe she’d noticed my wedding ring? Who knows what goes through a woman’s mind? I never managed to work it out! You shouldn’t even misinterpret the “Have you got somewhere to stay”? It’s not how it reads, honestly, it’s just that she was surprised that I hadn’t come to be with friends.
Most important job on Friday morning was to go straight to the red light capital of the island, red traffic lights that is, to reclaim the T shirt I left in the hotel on Thursday night, old people eh? Once that was packed away on the bike it was off to ‘The Nadgeries’.
The Rally Dictionary
Nadgery: A section of route, frequently ‘not-as-map’, where competitive skill should be moderated to avoid a ‘moment’.
The hotel I stayed in on the northern side of Santa Cruz had me saying to myself “Now this is my kind of place”! It ticked every box, and had me asking the receptionist if they had any other hotels on the island but alas, it was a family owned one. My stay was only brief, I arrived at 1230am and left just ten hours later, but it was enough to tempt me to return for a couple of nights prior to my return ferry in three weeks.
On Thursday morning it was with some relief that Reg and I escaped the clutches of the traffic light infested capital, and headed south west down TF1 towards Los Cristianos. I was also glad that Reg had been parked in the shade for the morning’s ‘pack up’, as it was already 20c by 11am.
We weren’t under any time pressure heading to our destination for the next six nights, as our arrival wasn’t expected until 2pm, and we were just an hour’s ride away. I took time to take in my new riding environment, to my left was a clear view of nearby Gran Canaria and to my right the mountains. Everything looked splendid in the bright sunshine, blue sky and blue sea. I felt that I had arrived, reflected on what it took to get here and swore at myself, the polite version being “Bloody hell Big Bird, you did it”!
Although my nickname is Big Bird, I don’t usually talk to myself in that manner, but I’m trying something I recently read in a book which I have with me. Friends Nige and Sue very kindly gave me ‘Journeys to Impossible Places’ by Simon Reeve. For some reason I haven’t yet found Tenerife contained within its pages, but in it he is very open about himself. He says when he’s on his own and dealing with his ‘internal voice’ he tries to treat himself as he would a friend, and uses his nickname, as it softens any harsh criticism. I smiled when I read the line that followed about what his wife’s advice is “Don’t be so hard on yourself, and try to give just a little bit less of a toss about almost everything”. But this moment wasn’t a criticism, it was a good feeling from just getting here.
The questions have followed me along this journey, the questions of leaving England, of leaving my family and of leaving my friends, the emotional tie was dragging me back, and I agonised over the thought, piece of cake for some, difficult for me. In the words of Freddie Mercury “This is a tricky situation, and I only have myself to blame”!
The question of Why? Why am I doing this alone? Maybe I should only tour with mates on their bikes, maybe I should stay with my family, concentrate on life in Carlisle, I have so much there! Salamanca was a turning point, or as it turned out, not. Salamanca is a beautiful city, but it was my most difficult time, I wanted to come home, but yet again I clung to the reasons for continuing the trip. The sign pointing to ‘Comfort Zone’ was north, I carried on south.
It must be Reg and not me?
As I wait at the ferry port I set to scribbling some ideas for the blog on my phone, I am frequently interrupted by people, which I welcome, as I enjoy the interaction.
Whether it be the vending machine maintenance man offering me a free coffee and wishing me a safe trip, the guy from Berlin who asked if he could photograph Reg, (which I duly obliged by allowing him to sit astride the bike whilst his wife took a photo), or the guy from Madrid just coming over to chew the fat, and again wishing me an enjoyable holiday! All this within the space of just half an hour! People are so friendly towards me and I’m sure that, if it’s not just Reg, then it’s the fact I ride a motorcycle.
Most of the places I go to are strictly native speaking, I’m cool with that and have mastered “I’m sorry but I cannot speak” Italian, French and Spanish, in their national tongue. Of course it doesn’t stop them wittering on in their native dialect, to which the encounter either descends into the Google translate app, or a game of charades.
Trigueros is a one horse town without the horse! I like it though, this is not a place Brits abroad come to, and hence the English language doesn’t feature highly on the list of importance for the locals.
On our travels, Rachel always used to be a bit ‘wide eyed’ at my choices of local cuisine, I’d rather try my hand, or should I say mouth, with local fare, isn’t that part of the experience of travel? I must admit that I’ve had my bum bitten on a couple of occasions, in more senses than one!
But getting back to where I am now. A little bar restaurant was recommended to me, so after a beer to kill time until food got served from 9pm, I used translate to leave it to the barman to choose my food. I included I liked meat, fish, chips & potatoes.
On arrival of my two courses, two things were immediately apparent, firstly, I know where the horse went! Secondly, fish. In England we think of fish as cod, salmon, trout, even prawns and mussels. But my plate obviously contained something quite different, no it wasn’t a huge albatross egg, oh no, this was fishy, in more ways than one! You can sprinkle and fry tentacles as much as you like, but this was definitely not a fish dish I was accustomed to!
So far, so good…….
The unassuming bar restaurantMaybe i should have just stuck with the ‘meat’ egg and chips?Fish, of sorts!
