Turquoise water? Yes Please!

Today I rented a car for the first time in my life. It was AMAZING!!! Alice, Celia, Perine, Theo and I all chipped in and got a car for the day to explore the island. We drove up into the mountains and could see all the way to another island, Tenerife.  Plus the towns along the way are more authentic feeling. They are real Spanish towns instead of the touristy towns along the south coast where we are.

When we told the rental car owner where we were headed:  to Pico de Nieves, he just looked at us and said “Pico de Nieves?!?!” with the most skeptical look on his face. Pico de Nieves is home to the highest point on the island in the mountains and he apparently thought we were crazy for thinking we could drive there ourselves. He told us how difficult mountain roads were to drive and wanted us to be aware that they were very difficult.  I tried to assure him. “Sir,” I said, “I have driven all over the Smokies, and have been on some pretty nasty back roads so I am sure this will be fine. Absolutely no need to worry!” He again looked at me like I had escaped from somewhere, and said in the most patronizing Spanish, “THESE are not like American roads (stupid tourists)… American roads are big, these are VERY SMALL (thinking: when will they a-learn that America is not a difficult place to-a live, why would this girl a-think she knows how to drive in the mountains?!)”

It was at that moment that I realized I was one of ‘them.’ You know, those terrible Americans who go overseas and talk about how much better or how much worse conditions are in America vs wherever they are. I hate those people, and now, I glumly thought, I must hate myself….

But alas, I was right… The roads were a cinch! Take that Spanish man!!! I challenge the next self righteous Canarian mountain man who thinks his mountains are harder to drive in simply because they are NOT in America to come to my neck of the woods. Let’s see how they do driving a Chevy 1500 long bed pick up on the backwoods east Tennessee mountains in the rain at night with no windshield wipers and a missing headlight and then they can tell me that because I am an American girl, I can’t drive their mountains. OK I am finished. It wasn’t that I was bitter or anything, more just that I am glad I don’t have to hate myself. Glad that for once when an American claims something about their country it is true and not just ego ridden nonsense.  But I still hate ‘those’ people… This is not an excuse to be one of ‘them,’

That all being said, the mountains were breath taking and the drive had a new fantastic view after every turn. Then we got to go to Puerto Mogan (which is like a little Venice with cute little bridges over canals and what not… Basically my new favorite town because it was full of terraces, flowers and boats.. nuff said) and then we finished the trip at Playa del Amadores which came complete with the stereotypical white beaches and turquoise water that was so salty I could float with ease. Oh and did I mention I went for a dip at sunset? So as I was floating the current in the turquoise water off the coast of Spain, I thought “Man I am glad it is sunset, this would be really lame if I didn’t at least get something to make it remarkable…”

And now, after I accompanied six French people to drinks on the beach in Playa del Meloneras, I am back in my apartment, typing this up while it is fresh, I will be posting it tomorrow right before I go to the World Windsurfing Competition.  And on that note, Buenos Noches (interesting aside, here they don’t pronounce the ‘s’ at the end of a phrase so it is pronounced Buenos Noche and Gracia etc. etc.)

P.S. Playa means ‘beach’ in Spanish.

And I am sorry if this blog makes me look like a cad saying “HA HA HA aren’t I a lucky sort” and while it is true, I am both a cad AND a lucky sort, It was never my intention for this blog to highlight those facts. And for this, I humbly beg your forgiveness.

Viva la Salsa

As I sat reading a Jane Austen novel on my terrace, chugging coffee and praying I would have the energy to make it through the party last night I realized that I was closer to being a middle aged librarian than a 23 year old in Spain. Not that this is any front page news. This I have known for quite some time. And when I showed up at the party and stood next to the gorgeous Spanish women in short, skin tight dresses and full make up, compared with my barely there eye shadow and knee length sun dress, my worse fears were confirmed. But no worries, this party was delightfully Spanish and I was soon salsa dancing all my worries away! The people I was dancing with knew I couldn't speak Spanish but didn't seem to mind. You see I went with Alice, Celia, Perine, Theo and Francois, the french friends here. They were invited by Fernando who said any friend of theirs was a friend of his so I could come too. And because any friend of Fernando was a friend of the entire 200 people at the party, I was by association a friend to EVERYONE. By the end of the night I had spoken almost no English and so much broken Spanish and French that I almost forgot to think in English. So I did my generation proud after all. I stayed up til four in the morning at a house party in Spain salsa dancing.


Oh and the party was invite only and had a bouncer in a suit at the families gate checking people in. There was a pool and candles everywhere, a full bar with anything you could possibly dream of, a huge dance.  floor with smoke and laser lights and all in this guys house. It was too amazing! But I haventt much time so I am out Tomorrow, we explore the island and see the volcano.