Middle-aged flash packers

I have combined Thursday and Friday’s blogs  as S and I have been very lazy and spent a lot of time by the pool. Great for us but swim, snooze, read,repeat doesn’t make for interesting reading.

Talking about less interesting reading I am going to share with you a mystery. The mystery of the bins. 

We had filled the plastic rubbish sack provided by Mr P and I had been keeping a lookout for the complex’s communal bins,  to no avail. In the end I WhatsApp’d Mr P and he said they were to the left of the building. I looked everywhere, opening various doors all over the place which turned out to be either boilers, the gardeners tool cupboard and some room with various hoses and taps. All very interesting but no bins. Eventually S and I drove and parked by a small alleyway near the top of our road and I walked down it to see if there were any bins. And there were. I deposited the rubbish there, along side a gentleman who was throwing a suitcase and some toys into another bin. I have no idea if I’d actually located the official binnery but that bag  was beginning to reek so it had to go somewhere. 

Thursday afternoon was very cloudy so we decided to visit the Montana Pelada  – an extinct volcano with a large crater formed by a huge explosion. (Can’t imagine what else would have done that but thought I’d better let you know) It’s close to El Medano and Montana Roja where we went with N and J earlier in the week.

It’s amazing how sunshine makes such a difference to the atmosphere of a place. Gloomy and dark, the caldera looked barren and forlorn. There is a wind farm and a port on the other side of it which looks scruffy and unsightly. It was all quite dystopian. The beach looked uninviting and some workmen close by had issues with a sewage pipe so there was an unearthly stench as we walked back to the car. Unfortunate.  We stopped in Medano for a drink but didn’t linger too long.

Friday was a stunningly gorgeous day and so rather than find stinky places to plod around we lazed by the pool, read our books and indulged in some very entertaining people watching. One family that earned all our sympathy was a tired looking French couple with the most angelic looking little boy. That child didnot stop moving the whole time he was there. He devised a circuit where he climbed over the wall, jumped in the pool then ran off and climbed over the wall again and again and…Dad eventually got involved in a game of hide and seek which was quite heroic of him as mother had welded herself to her sun bed and was probably attempting to catch up on 5 year’s sleep. 

Exhausted just from watching this, S and I eventually managed to drag ourselves away from the pool and hit the strip.

“The strip” is actually the promenade that runs from Costa Adeje to Los Cristianos. It starts off proper posh with exclusive hotels, beach clubs and Michelin starred restaurants. After about 30 minutes walking , the shine begins  to wear off and after 40 you’re in all kinds of trouble. 

We decided to turn back to 30 minutes along the prom and had a very pleasant drink while watching the sun go down.

Although we had intended to eat somewhere along the strip, we were so banboozled by the amount of choice offered to us we decided to – yes you’ve guessed it – hit Superdino and have sausage and chips again. 

What is wrong with us?