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Lanzarote, Diving And Volcanoes

Since we wanted somewhere warm; we were going in early March after all; and we’d done the whole of Fuerteventura the previous year we decided to try another of the Canary Islands, Lanzarote. I’d had several friends recommend it so I was quite looking forward to it.

We were fortunate with our flight out, and booking extra legroom seats made it much more pleasant and were well worth the money. We landed in the afternoon and were greeted by the warm sunshine. We soon found a taxi, which dropped us off right outside the apartment complex where we were soon checked in. It looked a bit deserted as we walked through the complex to our poolside apartment. The apartment was nicely laid out with a lounge/dining area with a well equipped kitchenette. A short hallway led to the bedroom; where we dumped our cases; and bathroom. The welcome pack was a nice touch since it meant we could have a sandwich and a coffee before going out to explore. We decided to head for the main town. We strolled down the main drag, which turned out to be very disappointing with nothing but dingy  bars and restaurants lining the seafront; half of which appeared to be closed due to it being too early in the season. We eventually found a greasy burger place open so, out of desperation, we ate there. It was nothing to write home about! Our first experience of the town did not leave a good impression. We returned to the hotel to find the poolside was now full of sunbathers. I hurried into the apartment, put on my ÂŁ60 swimsuit and went to join them whilst Paul fell asleep on the sofa. Since the amenities on the complex only consisted of a bar/cafe/ice cream sales place, situated in a marquee at the side of the pool we bit the bullet and went back out for the evening to try and find a decent bar for a drink. We ended up back down the drag where we were conned into following the tout down some dimly lit steps into a grimy, concrete courtyard cum shopping arcade where he led us into his mate’s English bar. It was now getting too late to start wandering around looking for somewhere better, we were tired and fed up and didn’t want to appear rude, so we had a couple of drinks before going back to the apartment and bed. The next morning we awoke to pouring rain and a cold chill in the air so we lazed in bed reading. The rain eventually eased off so, under a gloomy sky we mooched back down the almost deserted drag to see if we could find the “Old Town”. We didn’t, but we did find the diving school at Playa Chica. Now I’ve always wanted to have a go at scuba diving but had never got round to it so, for my birthday treat I booked myself in for the trial dive for the next day. As it was now gloriously sunny we continued our search for the old town but ended up wandering around some pretty grotty areas, including the shopping arcade from the night before, and some filthy side streets running along the backs of all the seafront hotels as we tried to find our way onto the beach so we could have a nice stroll back to the apartment. It was a bit like wandering round downtown Cleethorpes. In fact, at this point I think I would have preferred to be in Cleethorpes, at least you can get to the beach.

In the end we gave up and returned to the main road and route marched backto the apartment for lunch on the patio before lazing around the pool again. What an experience that turned out to be. There I was, lying on my sun-lounger, minding my own business and reading my novel when I heard someone shouting at their child. I glanced up and immediately wished I hadn’t. It was one of those sights you wish you hadn’t seen but somehow you have to keep on looking. The child’s mother was huge with bright red, sunburnt skin, apart from the numerous white stripes where the sun couldn’t reach. Now, I have nothing against curvy ladies but not when they’re trying to squeeze themselves into an itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini. The only way you knew she had a top on was by the minuscule triangles which barely covered her nipples, the rest had disappeared into rolls of flesh. The bottom half of this ensemble was a thong, which just disappeared and, to add insult to this visual injury, she hadn’t shaved either…..anywhere. My sensibilities ruffled, I went back to the apartment where I flicked desultorily through some leaflets to find there is not a lot to do on Lanzarote. Even less, it seems, than Fuerteventura! That evening we turned left out of the hotel, away from the town, where, a few hundred yards up the road we found a nice Italian restaurant The Sorrenti Di Italia. It wasn’t the one recommended in the leaflets but the ambience was simple but classy, the food scrumptious and the service excellent. It was so good, in fact, that we booked a table for my birthday.

The day of my trial dive I presented myself at the dive school to find that I was doing it with a young girl who had done it last year as well.  Our dive instructor was some huge Canarian guy who only spoke broken English. But that doesn’t matter underwater does it!! We had our safety talk and were taken to be kitted up. This should have been an omen, apparently you have to be the size of a flipping whale to take up diving, it took them a while to find any kit small enough to fit me. I huffed and puffed as I struggled into the wet suit with no help from anyone, unlike the young girl; her dad was a regular customer apparently. Then they had to hunt out a junior sized mask as the larger, adult ones wouldn’t seal. Then came the weights and the tanks. They are bloody heavy I can tell you!  Then there was a problem with the fins due to my feet being so small. They finally found a pair to fit and we were ready. The walk down the beach was bad enough with the weight of the tank, but trying to get the fins on once we were in the water was worse. I had to stand chest deep in the water; which, being the sea, kept moving; lift a foot up to the surface and put the fin on. In the end the instructor put them on for me. Next we did some floating and practiced breathing through the mouthpiece before going under the water. We finally got to dive.  It felt strange having to keep popping my ears to equalise the pressure. We had a tour of the reef once we were down; it was amazing with all the fish coming up close to investigate this new species which had turned up in their patch of water. They regarded us for a few seconds before darting off into the murky depths. We continued on through another shoal to reach the reef where we found sea urchins and some furry, plant like things wafting in the current.  It was an experience I thoroughly enjoyed.  So much so that I signed up for the follow up PADI course over the next couple of days. Back on land I peeled myself out of the wetsuit, got dressed and joined Paul, who had been waiting patiently on the sea wall. We walked down to the marina and had a late lunch in a rather nice little fish restaurant, probably serving the relatives of the fish I had just been swimming with. On the way back to the apartment we bought a bottle of wine which we drank whilst I spent the evening doing homework ready for my next dive. 

It was pouring with rain again when I was picked up outside the apartment the next morning. Well I suppose I was going to get wet anyway! This time I had to learn how to fit all the kit together and complete my own safety checks. Then we did the dive which was one to one with a young fit guy this time. No floating around either but straight under. We sat on the seafloor as he took me through a set of exercises; taking my face mask off and replacing it with my eyes closed so my contact lenses didn’t float away, taking the mouthpiece out and counting to ten, letting the mouthpiece float away and then catching it;  all of which I managed really well. That done we went for another swim around the reef, a little further out this time. When we got back to the dive centre we stacked all the equipment to one side ready for the next dive and I toddled off in my wetsuit, feeling very dudette-ish, to meet Paul and go for a coffee.

The afternoon dive was where I decided enough was enough. Everything started out OK but the weather had started to deteriorate with black clouds rolling in and the stiff breeze was whipping up the waves. Undeterred we carried on with the lesson until the point where I had to surface swim using a snorkel through four foot waves. I was trying really hard to breath nice and slowly as I’d been told, but the water kept getting down the snorkel and I couldn’t clear it. And I could hear it bubbling as I breathed. It was at this point panic set in and I completely lost it. I was trying to tread water but the waves kept washing over me and all I could see was the instructor swimming further and further away from me with not a backward glance. He must have eventually sensed something was not right and noticed I wasn’t with him anymore. Back he came and tried to calm me down enough to continue the dive, but every time I thought of those huge waves I could feel the panic rising. He got us back into shallow water where he was very very patient with me trying to convince me I could do this dive. But by now my mind was telling me I wasn’t meant to be a fish, and it was unnatural to try and breathe underwater. We decided to call it a day so we got out and cleaned everything off. I said I was going to give up but he advised me to go away and have a think about it until the next day. I didn’t need to. We went back to the apartment and I took myself off to the spa for a steam and a cry. Well why not, it was included in the price of the hotel. What a way to spend my birthday. But at least it finished well with our meal at the Italian restaurant where we were treated like royalty.

Before doing anything else the next morning we swung by the dive school and got a refund on the PADI course. I really couldn’t see the point in trying to drown myself in the name of sport! That done we mooched around the old town and marina. We also found the main shopping centre, which didn’t amount to much as we were heading back to the apartment. Whilst on our mooch we had discovered that it was Carnival day so after lunch we wandered out to watch the carnival. I took far too many photos; over 300 in fact; as it went on and on and on…….and on …….for what seemed like hours. There must have been an entry from every village on the island. And every entry must have included every single person from that village!

Finally it came to an end leaving just enough time for an hour in the spa before going out to eat at a steakhouse Paul had fancied trying. The ambience was very mediocre and uninspiring, with dark decor and dark oak “antique” tables covered with plastic gingham tablecloths coated in that membrane of stickiness that comes from a cursory wipe before the next customer is seated, another reminder of Cleethorpes. Although it was heaving we only had to wait a few minutes for a table to be ready. The steak was mediocre as well.

Since we had seen everything the town had to offer and I can only laze around a pool for so long we decided to hire a car for a couple of days to go and see the “sights”. Our first stop the Timanfaya National Park to see the volcano. We stopped at what we thought was the visitor centre, but it wasn’t the one we were looking for. We had missed the turning for that a couple of miles back. Oh, did I say the maps of the island were about as helpful and accurate as a child’s hand drawn treasure map? As we were there we went in anyway. We looked at a couple of model volcanoes before being herded into a room and made to stand through a pretend eruption…….awe inspiring………not! We eventually found the proper visitor centre at the top of a winding road to the top of the volcano. Included in our entry price was the spectacle of a guide, who looked like a council bin man (sorry, refuse technician), wafting some grass over the top of a small hole in the ground until it caught fire in order to show us that the volcano was still active. Onto another hole down which he poured water to make it steam before taking us to see where they cooked the meat for the restaurant, over another volcanic hole. Once we had all finished taking photos we were ushered onto a bus which took us around the national park. The landscape was interesting enough with it’s jagged red and grey terrain; it could definitely stand in for a Martian landscape if you were making a movie; but since you were stuck on the bus you never got the full impact. On our return to the visitor centre we decided to eat in the restaurant where we were well and truly fleeced for two kebabs, just because it had been cooked by the heat from the volcano!! 

The next day we continued our tour of the island – more windmills, cactus gardens and agricultural museums. Unfortunately we missed out on the viewpoint due to the now persistent  mizzle, visibility was practically to zero by the time we got there so there was nothing to view! And it was cold. We drove on to visit to the lava caves which were quite interesting with an awesome surprise. By the time we came out the sun was shining again and it was a beautiful evening. Back at the hotel we had an hour in the spa, yes, I managed to get Paul in the spa, before going out to eat. We wandered upaways as that seemed to be where the better restaurants were situated but, as it was our last night and we didn’t want to be disappointed, we ended up going back to the Italian place where we were treated as old family friends; to the point I even got to hear all about the managers hernia op! Once again the food was excellent, including the free grappa. Back at the apartment we spent the rest of the evening preparing for our departure the next morning.

Thankfully I’d checked in online before we left from home and, as I had booked the extra legroom seats again, the journey home was as easy as the journey out. Although we did enjoy our stay in the end, unless you are into water activities or sitting around a pool all day there is very little to do. I can honestly say that it is not on my list of destinations to revisit.