Yes I did! A group of seven Fulbrighters decided we were done with the not-so-cold-but-cold-enough winter weather in Madrid and headed off to Tenerife in the Canary Islands to enjoy a bit of island life. We rented an apartment that made us feel like we were on college spring break, adventured around the island, and enjoyed the lifestyle that was all too fleeting.
We got into the airport late on Thursday night after a 3 hour Ryanair ride across the Atlantic Ocean (a flight I wasn’t all to eager to repeat, but knew was necessary in order to get back to work on Monday).
Right before I went to the airport, I met one of my tutees, who asked me where I was traveling to that weekend. When I told him I was flying to the Canary Islands, he looked surprised, asking me how much my ticket had cost me. I told him it was just over €100 and he responded with, “Wow! That’s practically as cheap as Renfe!” I tossed him a concerned look and asked cautiously, “You do know there isn’t Renfe to the Canary Islands, right?” He shook his head and said, “I thought you could take Renfe anywhere in Spain though.” I tried to restrain my laughter and pulled up a map of the world, showing him that the Canary Islands was even further South than Morocco and no, there is not a train that goes a 3 hour flight distance through the Atlantic Ocean. Job security, my friends.
Anyway, once we made it to Tenerife, we took a taxi to the apartment, got checked in by a Russian grandmother, and then headed out into the city to see what our dinner options were. We were unimpressed by the surplus of karaoke bars, abundance of “We speak English!” signs, and excess of annoying waiters who were half-sweet-talking/half-harassing us with the hopes of getting some business during the off-season lull. So, we went simple and got pizza from a kebap shop, where the worker was so excited to get 7 people’s business at once that he treated us to our drinks.
On Friday morning, most of the group headed off to the beach, but Matt and I woke up earlier and headed North to check out La Laguna, a small colonial city that one of his co-teachers had recommended to him. We enjoyed wandering around the city, admiring the green hills of the north part of the island, the old churches, and the typical food.
The city had an interesting mix of colonial and Spanish design
Some intriguing vegetation
Just outside one of the churches
The ceiling of one of the churches
Ropa vieja, a typical dish of the Canary Islands
Matt is slightly obsessed with climbing towers, so we went to the oldest church to check out the view. When we arrived, we found that the worker had just taken a break. We considered walking around the desk and just heading up the stairs when the woman reappeared, took our €2, and warned us about the bells that go off every 15 minutes. We were intrigued by the bells and hung out at the top awhile waiting for them to ring, only to jump with surprise at the expected clanging that could have easily left my ears ringing for the entire rest of the day.
The tower
View from the top
When we got “home” our beach friends were nursing their sunburns and we began to make plans for dinner… an all-American cook-out in our small backyard. Sparks went flying (literally… we had some problems getting the coals to heat up until the boys poured some gasoline on them), but in the end we managed to sit down to a dinner of burgers, potatoes, asparagus, and salad. Then we played some Apples to Apples before we headed to sleep in preparation for our trip to the highest point in Spain (which is also an active volcano), El Teide, the next day.
While we prepared dinner, Joe took a few pictures for his future match.com profile
Rather than riding the bus along the coast as Matt and I had done the previous day, we headed up up up into the center of the island until we arrived at the active volcano. I didn’t expect going to the top of an active volcano to be such a common tourist attraction, but I figured with so many people doing it, there must not be a significant risk of dying from an eruption.
El Teide
We almost left Rebecca behind at the rest stop (only a 5 minute drive from the volcano, but still…) because she got stuck in a line for the bathroom. But for the second time in Spain (First time was in Santander, 2012), I pulled the half-in, half-out trick that bus drivers basically hate because they can’t leave until I move one way or another. Thankfully, Rebecca saw me moments later and started running so we could all make it to the volcano and up the gondola to a place where we could feel on top of the world.
Looking down
Fulbright Canary Islands 2014!
It’s me and the clouds
It was a great day trip! But we decided to make the day even better by heading over to the beach to watch the sunset.
An amateur sandcastle we saw along the way
A walk along a Canary boardwalk
Chilling on the beach
Jumping fail
We ate a good dinner right off the beach and headed back with our bellies full, all exhausted from the mountains and the sea and ready for sleep.
Sunday morning, Joe and I woke up early to catch the 9:30 AM bus that would take us from our city in the South to the airport in the North. Joe wanted to get back for his soccer game later that afternoon and I needed to get back for tutoring so we wanted to take an earlier flight. Joe had booked an afternoon flight without realizing it was from the airport on the opposite side of the island (about an hour away) but once he figured out a way to get there, I decided to go along.
Unfortunately, tired from the night before, I misread the bus schedule and didn’t realize that the 9:30 bus didn’t run on weekends. We got there a half an hour after the weekend bus left and got a bit nervous when we realized that the 10:30 bus wouldn’t get us there before the gates closed on our flight. OOPS.
We then assessed our two options. Take a bus to the southern airport and hope to catch the bus from the southern airport to the northern airport or take a bus to the center of Santa Cruz in the North and hope to catch another bus or grab a taxi from the center to the airport. Realizing our distance risk was slimmer by taking the bus to Santa Cruz, we boarded and sat anxiously, calculating the amount of time we would have to get from the center city to the airport and trying to decide whether we should go to the airport via bus or taxi.
When we arrived in Santa Cruz, we decided we couldn’t take the bus unless the bus was leaving immediately. Lucky for us (?), when we pulled in, there was a bus boarding. We asked the bus driver how long it would take us to get to the airport and when he said 15 minutes, we decided that since it was a small airport, we could probably take the 15 minute bus ride, get our passport stamp from the Ryanair desk, go through security, and make it to our gate before our gate closed in 35 minutes.
We bought bus tickets, sat down, and fidgeted anxiously as the bus driver let person after person put their luggage in the luggage hold and dawdle to their seats. Five minutes later, with everyone finally on the bus, we left. As we made it through the city, Joe and I cursed every old woman who shuffled across the crosswalk and every red light that slowed down our trip. When we stopped at the train station and saw another 15 people waiting to board, I almost hopped off the bus and grabbed a taxi… but there were no taxis. “We probably should’ve taken a taxi. I never do this. It just seemed like a good idea to save the 20-something euros that it would have cost us. I mean it seemed like we would have enough time. Gosh, we’re Fulbrighters and can’t even catch a plane to get back to school on Monday. We’re going to have to call Manuel….”
I pulled out my phone and started tracking our trip… we were 2 kilometers away and still had 15 minutes until the doors closed. Joe and I
Co-worker and fellow risk-taker
We lived happily ever after and the plane left 30 minutes late.
Much love from Spain,
Amber
