2022 - Lanzarote, La Graciosa & La Gomera
Guitars, enough now with it! Two and a half years no more vacation! We have to leave!
The idea seemed quite romantic, even a bit adventurous: By ship from Cadiz to Lanzarote. But only after more than an hour of unnecessary and incomprehensible waiting for the "cab", which should chauffeur us the 100 meters from the boarding office over a kind of ramp above the 3 car decks steeply up to the 5th floor of the ship, we finally got inside to the reception of this huge metal monster together with two truck drivers and three hippie girls together with their three dogs and hawks housed in two boxes. We were given two smart cards to open our suite, vouchers for dinner, breakfast and lunch the next day, and a remote control for the TV. After all: two large windows with sea view, correct double bed, plastic cell bathroom with shower, three bags of various potato chips, candy bars, grapes and an orange, the inside of which could not be accessed with the double provided cutlery made of WOOD. And two dubious scratch cards for the wifi code.
Ultimately, this is just a huge shit ship full of cars, caravans, trucks and containers. No telephone network, the WLAN did not work at all, what for, if nothing can be received anyway? In addition most miserable canteen food, only beer on board: Heinecken (Pfui Deibel!), live music anyway not. And all around the wide sea, no coast in sight, only waves, clouds and horizon blurred by African Calima dust.
In addition, the weather forecast predicted several days of rain and a loudspeaker announcement prepared us for an hour and a half delay in arrival (due to overloading of the ship with heaps of super heavy containers). We should have better taken the plane from Jerez or Seville to Lanzarote!
At least nice conversation with one of the truck drivers, who would not get the connecting ferry to Fuerteventura because of the delay. Wow, but then finally docked on the island: Immediately came the shuttle bus chased up to the 5th floor, which transported us down to the next cab. The cab driver croaked a practically incomprehensible Spanish and brought us to Terminal 2, where at the booth of the car rental company was noted "We are at Terminal 1". Ok, 150 meters walk. The rental car was quickly available, VW, all control elements in familiar places, let's go! The GPS on our cell phone didn't really work at first. But soon the tracking was working. Then a lot of these completely useless traffic circles, which apparently should praise the prosperity of the locality, with irritating GPS exit information, but finally we approached our long before booked domicile.
The landlady, Italian from Bologna, very amable, instructed us perfectly. The WIFI worked immediately and quickly. And soon - after opening two Cruzcampo beer cans (no Mahou on Lanzarote!) - we could join the Champions League soccer game Atletico Madrid - Manchester United. Also, shortly after, it was time to uncork a Malvasia white wine and a bottle of Ribera del Duero. Unfortunately, the bloody English scored the balance shortly before the end, and that even in Madrid, shit! As an Atleti fan, you have to be used to sorrow!
But after that we went out to the terrace, what incredible peace! Tomorrow at daylight we'll see more!
On vacation trips in unknown terrain it is generally valid to look for the better places, but on Lanzarote especially! If one wanted to start really vicious, one could already constitute the following: Lanzarote has about 110 extinct volcanoes and all the areas between these cones form a huge debris field of lava chunks of various sizes, which the vents spewed out onto the flat land millions of years ago and again in the 17th and 18th centuries.To all places, however accessible by car, perfectly asphalted country roads lead, which look like dark gray ribbons, as if applied with a roller to the ground, then perfectly marked with side and median strips. On both sides of the roads just these fields of debris. One would like to wonder how much walkable area there is on this island at all. It can't be much! Parts of these rubble fields have been leveled, cemented over and built on, and also extensively planted with vines. And as always, especially in the south (Playa Blanca), they built huge urbanizations, thousands of small, low white boxes and chalets for all the foreigners who have afforded themselves a vacation home here.
Quickly away from there and back to the dark gray country roads! From there you see colors from ocher to brown to black, and whitewashed houses with green shutters. Everything else vegetal green like cactuses; palm trees and agaves seem rather like misted in ocher dust.
At one of the countless traffic circles "wrongly" turned we got unfortunately into the marina Calero. Rich, old people, short-haired English old men and still tattooed German twenty-somethings, although tattoo removal seems to be the new sensation business. Already here it was foreseeable that there would be a lot of room for heretical blasphemies on my part.
But now out on the road for another exploration! Intuition. "Playa Quemada" (burnt beach) sounded somehow promising to me. And yes, we reached a semi-authentic-looking hamlet on the shore. No box houses, some restaurants with direct sea view. We entered the "Pescador", ordered a big bottle of water, a bottle of Malvasia white wine "Bermejo", avocado with gambas and papas arugadas, those typical Canarian potatoes cooked unpeeled in highly salty water. It was all great and the bermejo for € 18.90 a sensation. "The Quemada is it!", I said to myself in Rhenish dialect. And these patatas should be ordered to Cádiz or Madrid, via Internet or whatever! There are also "Lapas", round mussels with jagged edges, which unfortunately offer a rather "cheap", somewhat musty taste compared to mussels. A similar comparison would be, for example, "ostiones" (oysters) from the Cadiz area to Galician oysters, the best in the world.
Malvasía vino blanco:
After all, the islanders have converted some of the many otherwise unusable scree areas to grape growing. The vines are located in hollows made of black sand, which are walled in a triangular shape about half a meter high as protection against the sometimes violent wind. Seen from above, it is a strange pattern of divided "S" letters. Otherwise, we know that volcanic ground provides the best basis for a good wine, and this white Malvasía is really excellent, although not exactly cheap.
Ok, late afternoon, first again "at home" in our "Lanzaret". Around half past eight a cell phone call from my friend Kieni, "how it would be so on this island?" I look for better understanding out in our beautiful, black-stone garden in front of the door, to give my impressions. On the second floor, i.e. above us, resided an elderly German couple, whom I had already greeted twice in a friendly manner with "good even" - without response. After 10 minutes of my chattering on the phone, the head tenant, who also had white hair, stepped out onto his terrace with the words, "Could you please lower the volume of your conversation a bit. It's very uncomfortable for us up here." Actually, I should have answered him directly, "You are a stupid, ignorant German asshole. We are here in Spain. So leave me alone!" or something like that. But I didn't want to interrupt my phone call, so I went back inside our domicile to continue the conversation.
The next morning I stepped outside again and spotted the German gentleman upstairs sitting at the breakfast table. Instead of my pre-evening insult idea, I called up again super friendly, "Hello, you up there, good morning. I'm fed up about last night. After all, this telephoning has become something of a bad habit. But," I continued, "would you have any idea where to buy some cocaine around here?"
Ha, ha, that will give him food for thought! "Drug addicts in the apartment right below us!" That's how you shock guiris (as the Spanish call foreign tourists)! Of course, no answer from the terrace! We got into the car to look for breakfast and Paloma started to get very upset. "These Guiris should be shot right away all in the first row. They come here to our country for the sun. They would have to pay a price for it first and foremost. Not only like us for our apartment, but a primary basic price, a special tax to justify that they invade our country, help themselves and get drunk, these northerners, these white-skinned Germans, Danes, Swedes, Finns and especially the English, who behave particularly badly everywhere! The only just thing is that they all catch skin cancer here because of the strong ultraviolet radiation worth 6".
On to Playa Quemada, back to the pescador! Bocadillo with cheese and ham, Cafe Americano, a mineral water and freshly squeezed orange juice, yes!
Then a trip to the north. What's particularly annoying on these country roads are the countless, ultra-fast cyclists, who of course you can't get too close to. Slow down until there's no oncoming traffic, and then get into the opposite lane. And all with those crash helmets and rubber pants! What is this extreme self-castigation?And who is the cyclist's No. 1 enemy? The car driver!
In the evening first news on television: In addition to the confusing Russian attack on Ukraine (why don't they defend themselves?), the equally important topic of the day for days was that Madrid's municipal president Isabel Ayuso had already cobbled together orders for Covid mask imports and LED street lighting worth several million euros for her brother and a friend (all from the same village) in April 2020, with the two gentlemen being paid commissions of no less than € 280,000 for their mediation. Well, there's such a thing in Germany, too!
And in the matter of Ukraine Jordi Évole's (important Spanish journalist) viral tweed: the bombings in Yemen or Palestine are not much different, but they are further away from us, or they involve people who are different from us.
My cordless cell phone mouse no longer wanted to scroll. Apple is no longer what it used to be! So I looked for a MAC dealer on the Internet, entered the address into my cell phone, Arrecife (capital of Lanzarote), Calle Gorgolla 4. The whole house was empty and for sale. No phone number on the internet site, wasted time! Arrezcife is an ugly labyrinth and here you also see all kinds of poor people, quite different from the tourist centers where, apart from the well-heeled travelers, only the always poorly paid waiters fall into this category.
The next morning, when I saw the German again up on the terrace, I had the devilish idea: "Hello, tell me please, was anyone here late yesterday afternoon? Did you see anyone? They wanted to drop something off for me." The German turned and fled inside. Yay!
Then an impressive tour of the home of the famous Portuguese poet José Saramago, who died twelve years ago, was expelled from the country in 1991 after writing a heretical book about Jesus Christ and his sexual relations and childbearing with Mary Magdalene, and spent his last two decades on Lanzarote. This man was a convinced communist and must have had - seeing house and intereur - excellent taste.
Shortly after, the Spanish Minister of Culture, Esperanza Aguirre, was asked what she thought of Saramago. "Ah, yes, he is an excellent writer!" answered the stupid cow, who of course had never heard even one sentence of this poet and guessed, when asked, that the first name was "Sara" and the last name "Mago". Thus it stood already at that time with the general education of the Spanish right-wing populists!
And another one about Saramago: He was once asked why he was always that pessimistic. His answer: "I am optimistic about myself, but in view of the world we live in, my intelligence forbids me to be optimistic.
Surprisingly, not far from Playa Blanca there is a lovely village on the shore: El Golfo. However, there is a lot of gastronomy and it is practically impossible to get a table in one of the restaurants, because everything is full to bursting. All these vacationers who, like us, after more than two Corona years, finally want to go on vacation again. In the end we decided to order something to pick (picar), too, to be able to take the actually only intended two beers. At the next table sat a middle-aged German traveler, whose extremely tiny dog constantly tripped and pattered around one of the plastic chairs in a highly nervous motoric manner.
I couldn't resist asking her: "Is der liab. Where did he put the batteries?" She was furious: "How can you say that? The dog is the dearest thing I have!" Oh, my, I'm so angry!
Probably the biggest tourist attraction and at the same time a treasure! From the Carretera you turn off and come to a kind of barrier house, where you first pay your entrance fee. Then you drive on to the end of a huge queue of cars, the upper end of which is also at a kind of barrier. The cars are let in in steps, and if you're lucky, after about a quarter of an hour of waiting, it's your turn to drive up to an even higher parking lot, where you're directed by an attendant dressed in an orange vest.
Then, with a bunch of other volcano enthusiasts, we board an orange bus with slightly darkened windows that takes us into the realm of the craters. A narrow, unmarked ribbon of asphalt winds its way through the bizarre formations of volcanic cones, boulders, cinders and ash.
Quite impressive, but, well, you've just seen it once ...
From black to white - If LANZAROTE, then NOT Lanzarote, but LA GRACIOSA!
On to Ortola and into the small ship, which - although not made of wood - reminds at least a little of the Joven Dolores, which brought the travelers from the port of Ibiza to Formentera even in heavy swells. You threw in the trip and for 35 minutes there is no return.
Arriving at the gracious harbor, one is immediately overcome by a similar feeling as when arriving at La Sabina, Formentera. The inviting harbor bars are striking; flat, white cottages, lots of relaxed people, bicycles with ultra-thick off-road tires, bicyclists (mostly without helmets), rocky and sandy roads traveled only by the four-wheel drive cars of the few residents who are allowed to own a vehicle here.
Very close opposite the mighty, dark red rock face of the main island, dropping steeply into the sea. And here: white shell sand, dunes and no volcanic chunks! It's like looking from paradise to hell, from white to black. And this little island pretty much leaves you in peace even with volcanoes - there are only four!
Canarian cuisine dominates in the few restaurants. I love these papas arugadas, otherwise there is nothing elaborate, but best stuff. Salads with avocados they should still put on the menus! And there are two good "deros": the cafeteria El Saladero and the restaurant El Varadero. Soon one becomes aware that many of the Guiris speak some Spanish, which casts a positive light on the standard of education and attitude to life of the vacationers. For the chic ones, the crossing by boat here seems to be too much of a hindrance. Or they come over from Lanzarote just for a day trip.
You can hike endlessly along the coasts - trudging through the sand and sometimes against fierce winds. Or you can hire one of the various "safari" drivers, who will take you to all corners of this island in his four-wheel drive jeep for € 50,- in just under two hours over the bumpy roads with a view of the landscape and of jolted, desperate cyclists. In the same way, you can let yourself be taken to just one of the white beaches for little money. The only drawback: There are no beach stalls, so take your own drinks and snacks!
Preliminary conclusion: For a peaceful vacation in the best atmosphere, you should take the plane to Lanzarote and do not rent a car there, but take a cab. This will take you directly to Orzola, from where you can take the boat to get to this graceful, enchanting island!
Back to Lanzarote
But after four nights now back on the main island. In Booking.com practically all accommodations are highly praised. But each apartment has its good and bad points. The last one was super luxurious, but the WIFI did not work. Here now - English dominated - the sofa is sagging, sagging chipboard wardrobes, no hairdryer, too few sockets, but the WIFI works perfectly. And on both toilets the notice "VERY IMPORTANT", not to dispose of the toilet paper in the flush bowl, but in the small trash can next to it. This in five languages, with the "don't throw" capitalized only in the Spanish version "NO TIREN". Paloma was understandably annoyed by this. As if Spaniards needed a special prompt for such. Let's see what happens next. And another one of the worst things: When you lift a toilet seat, and it falls back, so you pee on it at that exact moment!
Let's see what the César Manrique has done! This man was an artist and architect, and ultimately responsible not only for the fact that no houses were allowed to be built on this island with more than two floors, but he created objects and centers to let art flow into nature - or vice versa. Unfortunately, at the age of 72, he was hit by a Toyota four-wheel drive Jeep and lost his life. Imagine having such an accident and finding out that you have just killed the most important personality of this island!
Impressive "Jameos del Agua":
Here a horizontal volcanic vent tunnel has been redesigned into an artistic center. You descend via stairs into a cave that is partially open at the top. Some walls have been made smooth with boulders, cemented over in some places, and painted white. In the front part is the best restaurant on the island so far. But - just one has taken a seat calmly, - already a horde of Guiris invades, the majority worst dressed, mostly fat Englishmen of both sexes from four travel busses. The worst are these guys with the half-length camouflage pants! They all move (taking lots of pictures) through the middle of the table formations of the restaurant, to then descend further into the back part of the cave, which has a large water basin. On the other side there is a kind of stage, where sometimes concerts are held.
Best salad of this world!
Also spectacular the Mirador del Rio, where you can enjoy a fantastic view over the island and down to La Graciosa in the center, also built by Manrique, at a height of almost 500 meters. Then to the restaurant Volcan de la Corona, also filled with at least one busload. Such massive harassment, unfortunately, you have to suffer at all tourist places. Whereby I must still note that not all tourists were positively amazed at my Birkenstock sandals. But my foot well-being is just sacred to me! And some look at me gruffly, if I pull on my nicotine vaporizer on a restaurant terrace. To forbid such things in the open air has almost fascistic features for me. Whereby I must still note that not all tourists were positively amazed at my Birkenstock galoshes. But my foot well-being is just sacred to me! And some look at me gruffly when I pull on my nicotine vaporizer on a restaurant terrace. To forbid such things in the open air has almost fascistic features for me.
More César - the cactus garden
El Jardin de Cactus - an installation in a former crater remnant. Any kind of cacti perfectly placed and presented.
Cacti this, cacti that, all these are artificial attractions to elicit sights from a useless desert. I don't need this island. A toast to César Manrique, but too much crater and too much rubble! One has seen it, and good. But still: On Lanzarote there are hardly any houses with more than one upper floor. The building height is reserved only for the stupid volcanoes.
Stop! First Tenerife airport!
Departed from the really relaxed Lanzarote airport. How can it be that one gets out of the plane on Tenerifa, follows an illuminated sign with text "Conexiones" (connecting flights), and suddenly lands in a hall from which there is only one exit to the outside, so that you have to go through the security check again, take off your shoes, belt from your pants? Then the notice "Departure Gate A5". There you stand 10 minutes and must suddenly discover that there is no longer "La Gomera" on the illuminated sign, but "La Palma". "We have changed the gate. Now A1!" What hopeless chaos!
Foto from the year 1991:
The Valle Gran Rey
In contrast to the more than 100 volcanoes, La Gomera seems to consist of only one huge ex-volcano, almost 1500 meters high. A craggy hump that looks as if someone had carved out all those valleys (barancos) from top to bottom with a v-shaped carving knife. And in the "Valle Gran Rey" ("Valle" means "valley" - as opposed to "Baranco") the carving knife has continued to slip out to either side, creating some of the few wide beaches on the coast - some with pebbles and some with black sand. And the sand has magically attracted the Germans. Even 30 years ago, when people reported having been to the Valle, Spaniards would reply, "Ah, with the Germans!" As good as all Germans have concentrated here as in a ghetto together, in the "Valle", which is pronounced by "Kalle" not according to the double L Spanish "Vaje", as also "Majorca" for "Mallorca", but just "Valle" as "Kalle" for "Karl-Heinz"! Is it the herd instinct that magically draws the Germans together at one point? It must be so, whereby the "German" speaks here also gladly with territorial claim of "my island". And with "the Germans" I mean first of all the vacationers, secondly, however, also the residents, exactly these freaks and today "old freaks" who have settled here.
This island seems huge when traveling by car. But that's only because of the many, never-ending, kilometer-long serpentines that take you from one place to another, because there are no roads along the coast, so you have to curve up to about two-thirds altitude before you can drive down from there to another valley. And it's green here, lush green!
More than 20 years ago I was here the last time, among other things to visit my friend Rudi. He had also - but not only - been in the music business. By chance I had found out that his main financial occupation was selling cocaine. And a little later he called me to ask me, as a "Spain specialist", where he could best buy a house on an island. He had stashed about a quarter of a million marks "under the mattress", the saved proceeds from his "business". We had flown together to Formentera, but he had not really liked that - Rudi, a man of good taste. So he had finally landed on La Gomera and in a new urbanization in the Valle Gran Rey he got himself build a proper terraced house with a garage underneath. Since then he lives there, far away from the world. Perhaps it is the best thing for him.
The streets with their countless pinhole curves are much wider now than they were then, but everything is just as green as it was then. Palm trees, succulents, lush laurel forest, how wonderful! And today in the late afternoon not a single cyclist!
The cab stopped directly from our lodging in the Valle, "La Caleta". Lodging? An illegally built, huge, dark brown concrete block, right on the beach, pretty much the ugliest building on this island. The walk from the entrance gate to the apartment gave the impression of being in a bomb shelter. At the same time, one must admit that the operator had arranged everything in his power so that there was no lack of anything at all. The latest Ikea plates, cups, pots, tasteful flooring, well-equipped kitchen, washing machine, no hint that you want to dispose of the toilet paper somewhere else, everything there! Not this 50s inventory, what some landlords put out of avarice discarded in their apartments: Beer mugs, Lufthansa cutlery, enameled casseroles and pans, plates made of glass - everything from the student days, instead of buying something sensible, new.
The cab driver - generally warning of a lot of cyclists - had also given us a restaurant tip: "El Tasmallo". Circumstantial exploratory walk around the corner to possibly reserve a table. Unfortunately, today, on Sundays, closed. I peeked over to the left, where a large group of people had gathered in front of the "Bar Maria" on the beach wall to pay homage to the sunset, accompanied by bongo drums, castanets, tambourines, etc., as they did 20, 30 or even 40 years ago. Further to the right there was another restaurant and a pizzeria. On the short way there, I took a look at the guests and suddenly had the impression that I had stumbled into a huge nest of negationists. Exactly the kind of people you had seen on TV at those anti-Covid demos. And I'm the last person to welcome this push by governments for anti-virus protection. But when you can be pretty sure that two or three vaccinations might save you from future pain, what's the big deal? And Bill Gates' chip really can't fit through that tiny needle hole! In Hanover I have a pair of negationists who are no longer such friends of mine, and for whom it would certainly be best to emigrate here to Gomera. But they could not even board the plane due to lack of vaccination.
Eieiei, what would Paloma say? Especially since the majority of the guests were apparently Germans. Hairstyle from pink to green, from ponytail to bald head, everything was there. Those headbands, scarves, culottes, flowing dresses in hippieisque colors, covering emaciated gluten-deniers. And, get this: at two side tables, conversations about securities and apartment renovation. Financial things do not stop even before an esoteric! The pizza (with gluten) was ok, although Paloma had to go to the bathroom shortly afterwards to throw up everything. Probably more because of the flight stress. Let's see what happens tomorrow!
I only write reviews in Trip Advisor when I liked something exceptionally well or exceptionally badly. The next restaurant visit together with Rudi immediately gave rise to a harsh criticism in this forum:
There were advance praises: The owner had just hired the chef who had previously cooked for the Real Madrid soccer team. Not a good omen!
The interior was a bit turgid and cluttered, as if someone had been in Bali or the like for too long. The wine list first: there were three reds: one from Chile, a Reserva (sadly no longer in stock, though I generally don't order Reservas), and a red from Tenerife, plus only a single Blanco. Of necessity, we ordered the Tenerifa Tinto. But how can it be that a self-respecting restaurant chef offers such a ridiculous "wine list"? The completely inept French waitress had pointed out that there were four red wines. But one of the four was just this white wine.
We wanted tuna, short fried - unfortunately no longer available. So we ordered Crocetas, Alcachofas and three times Medregal, a basically excellent fish - similar to the "Pez Limon" from Cádiz. The artichokes came out of a jar with a dried tomato on top of each, the croquettes were ridiculously topped with a slice of raw tuna, and the insides, instead of being of loose consistency, were rather unpleasantly compact. The poor fish proved to be dry and cooked to death, including a vegetable garnish consisting largely of broccoli.
Had this chef been cooking for Atletico Madrid, he would have been fired the next day. "Tuyo, my not!"
And please, look at this!
Surprise: La Islita
If you go to the right in our district of La Caleta, where the road and a subsequent path lead through the black sand to Playa Ingles (where 27 bathers have drowned in the last ten years due to treacherous currents), after a few meters you discover both an Indian restaurant ("Sasmara", closed throughout) and the Italian La Islita (the little island). Already outside it smells exceptionally good, the menu made an excellent impression (e.g. homemade fish-filled torteloni a la vongole). Inside. A bottle of Prosecco, pasta and grilled zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes and goat cheese skewered horizontally on wood, four pieces of bruschetta on a bed of green Asian seaweed and just this pasta a la vongole. It doesn't get much better than that!
Of course, one could object that an Italian would have no business on a Canary Island. But nonsense! Especially since the Gomera-typical dishes are sometimes very dubious. E.g. Almogrote: A fresh cheese, which is enriched with various spices and especially red paprika. If the red parika dominates, it is over with the palate joy. The same goes for the so-called "mojos", which - red and green - are served in small bowls to influence the taste of the papas arugadas. There are serious differences between good and bad!
In the morning a phone call with my friend Uschi from Hannover: One of her painter friends had been here last year and had spotted a group of donkeys somewhere on a luxurious, eco-esoteric estate. She asked the owner if she could paint a picture of the donkeys here. No problem! She then proceeded to pet one of the donkeys, but was immediately stopped, "Stop, are you vaccinated?" Her: "Yes." Owner: "Then you must not touch the donkeys!" Can't even think of another comment to that!
After further inspection I have to verify my impressions of La Gomera, the Valle Gran Rey and the Gomera vacationers. In addition to a large number of "stray" hippie residents, the vast majority of seasonal arrivals each year consist of rustic dressed couples of retirement age, with backpacks, sturdy shoes and often equipped with hiking poles. And some just buy an apartment. The incentive: I can be on my island whenever I want! But many of them with just this esoteric tick. So Rudi told me, he had dragged his last love into an exclusive restaurant, where in an aquarium approx. 15 lobsters (bogavantes) waited for their life end and/or the final purpose to be eaten. She begged him to buy all 15, alive of course, so that they could be thrown back into the sea at a good place. Rudi objected, however, that surely the same amount of these pitiful animals would be present and available again the next day, so that such an action would only represent a tiny and, on top of that, expensive partial success, so that he unfortunately had to refuse her this wish.
In addition he reported of another resident, who wanted to bring him, Rudi, three times inoculated, with repelling hand movements away from him on distance, because he had a red mark at the leg, whose origin he attributed to the fact that there of these "inoculated" so-called "spikes" had migrated to him. How might that work?
Agulo und Alojera
Finally it should be mentioned that there are much more beautiful places on La Gomera than the "Valle". The other side of the island with Agulo and Alojera is much more authentic and vegetatively interesting. But the possibility to swim is missing.
Resumen: After two and a half years, finally a vacation again - has something. To see new places, far away from Madrid, Cádiz or even Hannover. But: Lanzarote, well, La Graciosa, after all, La Gomera, how to say? All these Canary Islands can be laid hacked to me in the end. A collection of useless, volcanic elevations too far west in the Atlantic, almost threateningly close to the United States, atmosphere as if under a time bell, at least very dubious tourists and increased risk of skin cancer to boot. On the Spanish continent one is(s) much more exquisite - and one is already there - without long, uncomfortable boat trips or annoying flights. You just drive comfortably with your own or rented car through Andalusia, Estremadura, Asturias or the Basque Country and let it go!
P.S.: And still very important! If someone of you has Covid and is vaccinated, please do not call me under any circumstances and also no Whatsups, because these spikes are also transmitted by telephone!