Sun, Sea and Stevie

It's late at night and the sky is ink black dark. The Atlantic waves are still crashing onto the volcanic rocks and sands. The air is humid, salty. I can hear Stevie Wonder's  I Wish being played brilliantly live by a trio of young musicians in the adjacent bar to this one. I have a full, cold glass of Cava. My boys are with me. I listen to the ocean and to the music (serendipitously , one of my very favourite tracks) and I wish that this moment would never, ever end. A tear rolls down my cheek. I have to go back to reality tomorrow.

We are on holiday in Tenerife. 


It's a holiday we shouldn't really have booked, as money is tight, but when an unexpectedly high share-save payment matured R said, "Look, we need something to look forward to, it could be our last holiday all together-" (daughter turning 18) "-I can get a free child place for Boy for the last time, let's just do it ! "

So we did.

I am a worrier (you may have noticed). Worrying was my dark cloud over my holiday and for that I am supremely sorry, for my family more than for myself.

But now I have the perspective of home I can feel how happy I really was, under the Canarian sky of almost perfect unbroken azure blue.



The approach to the airport was let's say, a tad scary. We were about to land when - UP! - the pilot aborted the landing and round we went again, to much consternation. Apparently a strong crosswind caught the wing and we weren't guaranteed a safe landing, so we had to try again. So that was nice. 

Anyway- landing safely, by mid afternoon - we're in our apartments - sleek and well furnished. I approve. Our holiday begins. The early mornings ... waking up to look out on a clear sky, and heading off to the little hotel supermarket to buy freshly baked croissants, eaten with fresh coffee and jam. Then down to the pool, quiet and still and the water cold but not too cold to swim in, before all the other holidaymakers emerge.
I rediscovered the joy of the cryptic crossword; I never read a newspaper ordinarily but I suddenly recalled all those hints Dad used to to tell me about when I was little and I used to look at his crossword. I didn't complete one but I will certainly try to do cryptic crosswords again.

And the clarity of thought one gets when almost meditating laying on a sun bed. There is time for thinking, wondering, setting one's head in order  when on holiday. Dragonflies swoop and children play and then it's beer o'clock from the Pool Bar.

And every afternoon at around 4:30. the swifts began to fly, swarms of them; there must have been insects up there, as they seemed to feed on the wing. They never settle, never perch; and I think, I'm like a swift, never really still ;only I can't fly away.

And I swim. I swim a lot. I love the water. And this is in a pool that is outdoors. I can just jump into an outdoor pool and not shiver my bits off.
The upper pool (there are two) is quieter and has a line of rocks that mark a fountain on the other side , when I am swimming in it all I can see are the rocks and the bluest of skies beyond. I float on my back and see how long I can keep my feet above the water. I stay in 'til my fingers start to prune.

At the beach the flag is yellow, which at first I don't think means much; and then I get into the Ocean and ... wooosh. I am knocked from my feet by an Atlantic roller.
Emboldened I wade further into the water; it is waist high (I am not tall) and I feel confident. I see the wave rolling in and think I am ready. I time it - just- as the swell hits and I leap into it and it carries me towards the shore and I am deposited on the sand, bumping along on my behind in a very un-lady like, fill-the-bikini-with-sand fashion.

I go back , and back , and back. More than once I misjudge the swell and on one occasion am unceremoniously dumped under the water; I think I am drowning (I'm not). I have so much sea water in my nasal passage it doesnt stop dripping for hours. And I go back again, and again.
"You're like a little girl out there," says R, watching me with affectionate amusement.

Then there's the evening walks, down to the restaurants all touting for business in the most friendly of fashions. Our favourite was here -
http://eatintenerife.com/martini-restaurante/

There seems to be a vogue for sandcastles now out there ... there were many to see , this is my favourite-

Let's not forget , Tenerife is a volcanic island. Mount Teide is twelve thousand feet about sea level and is active. Up near the summit one can feel the heat through the ground, smell the sulphur. This is how it looks near summit, after dark - 

I am fortunate enough to have a lovely friend who knew me back in my dorky school days, who now lives in Los Cristianos, and we met up, and set the world as we know it to rights over a few Cosmopolitans. Thank you, Jean.

While out there we celebrated our  twentieth wedding anniversary. We had dinner on the beach front , watching the sun set (it sets quickly that far south!) and I was with the people who mean the most to me -

Dear Tenerife; thank you. I Know your landscape may not appeal to everyone - 

but I love it.

I don't know when I'll be back ; but I will back.

In the meantime my head is in a better place than it was when we left just 12 days ago. I can see the chaos I left at home and am ready now to tackle it, to clarify home as well as mind.

Thank you, Tenerife.