Tenerife and La Gomera 21-28 Jan 2000

Finally justice prevailed. Louise got body-searched at Gatwick airport. She laughed when I grew a beard last year and passed through passport control untouched, where respectable looking folk were being searched. When I shaved it off and looked nearly respectable, I was searched, and she laughed even more. But after nearly 10 years of travelling together, she had to hold her arms out horizontally and grin sheepishly like the rest of us.

Things rarely go well in airports. If your flight isn't delayed, you are bound to be seated close to a squalling baby. You know the one, do you? The one whose parents pretend it does not belong to them.

We got that on the flight home, but in triplicate. Outward bound, a dopey check-in clerk sent our luggage on a Mexican flight. Luckily some more alert airline staff got it off that flight before it departed. It reminded me of some wag's paraphrase of the old British Airways Concorde advert; "Breakfast in London, lunch in New York, baggage in the Bahamas."

We touched down in La Reina Sophia airport in Tenerife around 3.30pm. It was nice to see and feel real sunshine again.

On our two previous trips we had got a bus to Los Christianos, and leaving Louise to guard the bags, I had scrambled around the place looking for an empty apartment or pension room. We only just found somewhere each time.

This time we fancied touring a bit more, so we hired a car for the week. It can be fun catching buses to lonely places like Punta del Hidalgo, but they are few in number and it's awkward if you miss one. We also found it limiting if you really want to get around.

James and Maria had recommended starting in El Medano. It's a ten minute drive from the airport and a relaxing place. The main beach is sheltered, but around the other side of the bay, strong winds attract windsurfers from afar.

At first we had trouble finding anywhere to stay. The pension Maria recommended had closed down. Another block of apartments was full. They told us there that the only other accommodation was also full. Not true, as we soon found out.

The apartementos Durazno Sur (tel:17 69 58) are situated directly above the local bank on the town square. From the chaotic scenes at the reception desk, I got the impression that it was a bit rough and ready. I had to recant those thoughts pretty soon. There were a number of free apartments, and they were very acceptable and spotless. The nightly price of 5748ptas (£21.36) for the room was pretty good too.

It was definitely time for dinner by the time we had settled in. An English lady we met in the lifts had recommended a couple of restaurants. It's not normally wise to take the advice of the English about foreign food, but she spoke with a degree of passion and certainty, so we waived our usual scepticism and wandered over to inspect them.

The first one I don't remember, that's if we ever found it. The second she was most definite about and we located it about 100 metres before the end of the breakwater, above the boardwalk.

The El Magallan restaurant looks across the bay to a hump of rock rising about 70 metres above the sea. It is a wonderful place to sit and watch the sunset. The grilled Medregal, a local fish, was gorgeous. It is one of the few restaurants which does not oversalt the fish or potatoes (papas arrugadas). The red wine we chose was from Vallodolid in Spain, called Aldor. It was a 1998 vintage and delightful.

The sun disappeared about 7pm and after the meal we strolled along the boardwalk, which goes the length of the bay. At the other end we found a large 4 star hotel, The Princess Playa, I think, plus a bar/restaurant called Flashpoint, which has a good vantage point some 35 metres from the surf.

We slept well in the apartment. There is a lounge, kitchen, bathroom and balcony in addition to the double bedroom. After checking out, we had a breakfast of scrambled eggs and ham outside of a seafront café. It was very good too. The coffee was quite good too.

Our next destination was La Gomera via the ferry from Los Christianos. Even though we had tickets for the ferry, we discovered just before it arrived that we also need boarding passes to get on board. These are dished out in the terminal building.

Then spent the trip on the top deck watching Tenerife growing slowly more distant and several pods of porpoises and dolphins performing aerial antics and ambushing fish swimming away from the ferry's wake.

La Gomera.

Disembarking in San Sebastian, we were a little puzzled to see so many cars. We soon parked up and wandered down a paseo lined with date palms. You could tell they were date palms, because the ground was littered with over-ripe dates. Orange trees took over further along the passage.

Suddenly we found ourselves in the midst of a procession of floats and singers/dancers in traditional costume. Someone thrust a cup of wine onto our hands and someone else a piece of cheese. On the floats, mostly men were dishing out steaming dishes of chicken and other meat. Each float moved forward some 30 paces at a time. Then the performers sang and danced, each group in a different costume and with differing styles of song and dance. The singing was actually very good. Some of the individual singers gave real virtuoso performances. A few went door to door to sing to appreciative householders. Gifts were exchanged and more food and wine were consumed. It beats carol singing in the snow.

      Scenes from the Festival of San Sebastian.

We found out a bit later on that this was the festival of San Sebastian. The performers had come from all the other Canarian islands to honour the saint.

Our hotel was nearby, so we checked in and made enquiries about restaurants and places to visit. The Hotel Garajonay (Tel: 922 87 05 50) in 17, Ruiz de Padron is quite central and fairly quiet, but that depends on the other guests. On our second night, a party of British walkers spent 1 1/2 hours trying to rouse one of their party to get the early ferry back to Tenerife. Everyone else was wide awake except that person.

The two receptionists in the hotel speak good English and were quite candid about where to eat. Much of the local cuisine is Italian. If you want authentic (tipico) food, you need to go up into the hills. However, they both recommended one restaurant, El Charcon, especially for seafood.

That sounded like a good place for dinner, but we thought we'd try Casa del Mar, near the marina, for a light lunch. It looks a real local place, but the food was lukewarm and more of a chore than a pleasure. The bread rolls were dry and the leather seats can sag and fix you firmly in place, not so very comfortable. We noticed it didn't get very busy at night either.

After a walkabout around the town and seafront, we headed for El Charcon. It is behind the harbour wall leading to the ferry terminal. To the right of a tunnel which leads to the Club Nautica, there is a lane which takes you onto a broad promenade. To the right and built into the rock is El Charcon. It has great views across the sea towards Tenerife and to the nearby cliffs.

The starters were delicious, prawns in a garlic oil casserole and whole grilled prawns. We followed this up with a mixed fish grill, although I think it was actually shallow fried. A bit salty, but very tasty. Cuttlefish, chiperones (baby squid), bass, fresh tuna, grouper and a couple of unidentified fish, with papas arrugadas and mojo picon (local green and red sauces).

The house red is rather thin and best avoided and so is the red wine they sell from Tenerife.

During the meal we watched the sunset and the outline of Tenerife fade until lights twinkled on the distant hillsides. A while after, the full moon appeared from behind Tenerife, rising rapidly above it's ridges until it lit a broad path across the sea towards us. If that weren't enough, the island's celebrants lit fireworks and rockets by the harbour. The restaurant emptied of staff and guests for the brief show.

The festival was only half way through by now, and when we joined the dancing in the main square, we mixed with locals, other visitors and islanders in their costumes. Louise had a couple of dances with a local who introduced us to his friend Domato. At least, I think that was his name. It's possible he was telling us he was the local tomato king. After buying us some wine, we had a dance ourselves. I did notice a group of ladies pointing us out and giggling and by the time we returned, our erstwhile friend and the tomato king had disappeared. I'm no dancer and Louise isn't the most co-ordinated of gals, so maybe they were too embarrassed to be seen applauding us.

We slept well, considering that the singing and dancing went on until 6am. The main square had been largely cleared up and just required a sweep up. As we sat outside a café, an enterprising municipal cleaner selected a palm branch some 2 metres long and used it to sweep up. It was very effective.

The croissant was good, but the coffee was awful and bitter, like old fashioned French coffee with chicory.

This was the 23^rd of January and we drove up the mountains to the Garajonay National Park.

Once in the park, there are several parking areas with trails starting from them and miradors (viewing points) with wonderful vistas and strange volcanic rock formations, including Los Roques.

Los Roques.

We wanted to visit the Visitor's Centre for information. Really it was because I had heard there was a decent restaurant there.

We seemed to be driving for ages through the park, before I realised we had actually left it behind, and still no sign of the Visitor's Centre (or restaurant). Eventually we found it after descending some 9 kilometres outside of the park. It is worth visiting though.

There is a museum of sorts and a couple of craft workers on site. The garden is quite pretty too, with lavender in flower in the chill air and many native plants, including the vivid red bracts of the Poinsettia plant which grow all over the Canaries.

There are actually two eating places here. One is a large restaurant over 100 metres from the Visitor Centre, which had coaches parked outside. The other was a slightly unappealing looking café-restaurant next to the Centre. We stayed here because we were starving by now and couldn't be bothered to stroll over to the more civilised looking place. Coaches are often a sign of mediocre tourist cuisine anyway.

Once inside it didn't look too bad, with lovely wooden tables and rural artefacts hanging from the rafters, plus a large ham covered in blue mould. That hung directly above Louise's head.

The owner was obviously a character and had photos of customers, family and himself all over the bar. It looks like a place of great conviviality at night, with mine host twanging a guitar in between serving food and vino. He was welcoming without being effusive; obviously not Greek.

The menu is small, but has good local dishes. Louise had half a garlic chicken which was the best we had during the holiday. It was succulent and plump and gently cooked with herbs and garlic. I had an equally tasty Cabra (braised goat). It had some gristle, but was good tasty no nonsense cooking. The salad and chips were great too.

Other Gomeran dishes they do are aguagate (watercress soup) and almogrote ( a kind of hot cheese spread).

We drove back to the park and stopped at a trail point. It was no great expedition, just 2.5km up to the top of Alto Garajonay, the highest point of the island.

The path is wooded with pines on the way up with lots of views. We saw what looked like a Lesser Whitethroat (sylvia curruca) singing in a low pine. Once on the very top, it is possible to see the other islands of La Palma, El Hierro and Tenerife with Mt.Teide dominating all viewpoints. That's if cloud does not obscure the panorama. The great ridges and gullies on Gomera are magnificent and deeper here because volcanic activity has not affected them for a long time.

Teide viewed from Garajonay.

The descending journey back gives you a raven's view of San Sebastian with ferries coming and going.

Someone suggested the Club Nautica might do an OK meal that evening, but he didn't sound too convinced. We took a look anyway. It did have a restaurant, but looked like a cross between a fishermen's' rest home and a conservative club. It was a bit formal for our taste, so we forced ourselves to go back to El Charcon.

This time we made sure we kept off the local wine and ordered a Rioja. This was an inspired choice. It was a Marques de Grinon and made from the Tempranillo grape in 1997, with an alcohol content of 12.5%. It smelt like an old fashioned sweet shop, of vanilla, pear drops and liquorice allsorts.

Our starter was a modest Charcon salad. The salads are not as wonderful in the Canaries as they are in the Mediterranean generally. A lot of them have too much lettuce.

The main courses were better than yesterday's though. Louise had a fish kebab with prawns, mussels and squid with some vegetables. I had a gourmet's delight of Bacalao de Riojana, a salt cod dish with a rich tomato based sauce. The cod skin was crispy, but the cod was succulent. A great experience.

After all that I still had the ubiquitous 'flan,' but mitigated the sin with a large glass of Carlos 1 brandy.

That night we staggered all over town trying to work up an appetite for breakfast tomorrow morning.

Some time that evening, I let Louise talk me into going for a ride in a whirling cage with several other demented souls. Their excuse was that they were teenagers, mine was that I wanted a quiet life. Louise has an unaccountable love of funfairs and machines which adults should be excluded from, for which she can offer no excuse. It's either an illness or the result of a deprived childhood.

The cage revolved in a vertical centrifugal plane, slowly at first. Soon, we were hanging onto the bars, being flung one way and then the next. Eventually, Louise lost her grip and bounced off both sides of the cage for a short while. Fortunately the ride came to a halt soon after and she suffered no more than a bruised posterior. I doubt she has been cured of her obsession nevertheless.

Breakfast next morning was taken outside an unnamed café in the Plaza de la Constitucion. Nice coffee and bocadillas. They also do bacon rolls etc. It's a good place to sit and watch nothing happen.

The Marina, San Sebastian.

We did some shopping for quite a while. Before we knew it, El Charcon was open at 12.30pm, so we thought it a good idea to have lunch before catching the ferry. It's a curious thing, but lunch during this holiday was nearly always forgettable. This time, the service was awful and those succulent prawns were deep fried into oblivion. Even the salad had many ingredients missing. I suspect that most chefs have their siesta in the afternoon and the grill is not turned on until the evening. Have a picnic instead.

The ferry back to Tenerife was fairly uneventful. We saw one large dolphin and a pod of porpoises during that trip.

The information from the Tourist Office seemed to indicate that Adeje had a lot of accommodation. If I'd looked at the addresses, I'd have seen that most of them are actually in Playa de las Americas. Just not my kind of town.

Adeje is actually quite a relaxed and well located place to stay. There are great views of the mountains directly above the town and you can take a trail from there to the famous Barranco del Infierno. It also has a lot of great café/bars and restaurants. Alas, apart from Anna, who was quite nice and spoke good English (ask at Café Oasis) and the Pension Rincon (not recommended by some locals) there appears to be no other accommodation in town. Both these were "completo" (full).

Reluctantly, we moved on.

It was getting on for 5pm and we still had nowhere to stay, so I took a turnoff to Playa St.Juan. I can't believe how long it took to wind down that tiny road to the coast. We did get there though. First stop was a café for coffee and information. The waitress told us in Spanish that there were hotels, but they were still being built. There was a pension somewhere, but she wasn't sure where.

We sat at a table outside finishing our coffee, when I noticed a middle aged English couple sitting nearby. Guessing that they spent much of the winter in the area, I got Louise to ask if they knew where we could stay. They were clearly horrified by our casual attitude, but rightly surmised that we were happy to accept anything, even a pension. They told us we should either hurry to the next resort before the accommodation agents closed up at 6pm, or stop at a tiny place called Alcala. There was a pension there called Domingo's, which took dubious characters like us.

After directions from the taxi booth in the main road and the chap who leans against the wall outside the El Mirador bar, (you can't miss him) we got there. Now, Domingo is not your typical Canarian. He may be the closest to an eccentric you will ever come across outside Britain. His boast is that "There are two places where you can eat well, one is in your home, the other is here in Domingo's. The inside of the restaurant is covered in paintings and sculpture executed by the man himself. It doesn't get more colourful anywhere.

There seems to be a dichotomy between his self professed communism and his obvious entrepreneurial streak, but he doesn't seem bothered by it, and maybe it's just his enthusiasm for his food that ensures a steady clientele beating a path to his door. His own summarised account of his career goes as follows:

"As the son of a farmer I spent my childhood tending cattle until, emigrating to Venezuela, I worked as a shoe cleaner and later as a waiter, when the book "Mother" by Maxim Gorky, transformed me.

I became a political activist, got a job in a brothel and joined a group fighting the dictatorship. After it's fall, my family and I bought a bar. However, I started the armed fight for power by joining the "Frente Armado de Liberacion", and was arrested in 1969. I spent 2 years in prison, then removed to the Canaries.

In Alcala I fell in love with Naty and in '73 returned to Venezuela with her. In'89 we opened the Pension and later the bar in Tenerife, but my love of South America has never faded and it is this powerful love that motivates my colourful painting. Come and take a look at my permanent exhibition while I cook for you."

Outside Domingo's pension and restaurant.          ...And inside.

Whatever he did in Venezuela, he certainly learned to cook. I've never tasted better Latin American food anywhere. There are about 8 dishes, all named after countries. The Mexico is chilli con carne, but others are less well known. The Venezuela is a good sized meal of rice, black beans, avocado, stewed beef and baked banana. We also had linseed bread with two dips, one blue cheese and avocado and the other, chickpea and goats cheese. It really is out of this world. The house red wine (Domingo's label) is the only one served and goes well with the food. The place was full before very long and most diners were discerning tourists seeking an eating experience. The address is Calle Marruecos, 2, Bajo Pension, Alcala, Tenerife. Tel:922 86 54 57. It's closed on Sundays.

We were offered two rooms, either a penthouse for 6000 ptas, or a room with shared bathroom for 3500 ptas. My Spanish wasn't good enough for me to understand how to find the penthouse, so we accepted the room. It was very basic, but clean and had a washstand. The shower in the bathroom was good, but the place is not too soundproof. Luckily, everyone was quiet that night.

After the meal, we wandered around Alcala. The pension is only 100 metres or so from the sea. There is also a tiny harbour for small fishing boats and a very good fish restaurant (El Pescadero) overlooking it. On the main road, a small mercado (supermarket) was still open at 10pm and sold some delicious miniature mangoes, oranges and other fruit. We finished the night off with an ice-cream in the panaderia in the pretty town square.

We had breakfast there next morning too. Hot baguettes with cheese, ham and tomato salsa. Domingo's is a night time joint.

Following signs for Los Gigantes, we found it easily, except it turned out to be the village of Los Gigantes, high in the hills, and not the rock formation everyone goes to see on the coast. By now the vegetation was becoming lush, with aloes and other green plants changing the scene and a chill entered the air. It is very picturesque.

The drive from the high altitude town of Santiago del Teide back down to the autopista on the north of the island is long and full of hairpin bends. We passed some well known tourist venues en route, including the mirador above Garachico, the village by the sea, almost completely buried by volcanic ash, Icod de Los Vinos, with it’s grape vines, Malmsey type wine (malvasia) and 3,000 year old dragon tree and La Orotava, with it's exquisite wooden balconies.

We were heading for Puerto de la Cruz, somewhere we had stayed twice before. On our first visit we had somehow found a 2 star hotel called Puerto Azul in the old town which was ideal. A double en-suite room with a balcony giving views over the town and looking up to Teide cost us then about 3,750 ptas (£14.37) a night. It was owned by a charming elderly Italian. A tall friendly man with a courteous manner, he gave the place a relaxed and welcoming aspect. Sadly, he died 5 years ago.

The hotel has since been bought by Germans and is being partially renovated. The price for an internal room with no balcony is now 5,300 ptas per night, still good value for a Brit, but I have to say, the place has lost it's local atmosphere. I think the balcony rooms are now around 8,000 ptas. The address is at Calle el Lomo, 24, E-38400 Puerto de la Cruz. Tel: (922)38 32 13. Accommodation is plentiful in Pto Cruz at all price ranges.

We got out for a light lunch at the Maracaibo, in a tiny square I think was called Plaza Perez Galdos. It's quite pricey and the salad was very uninspired. The chilled light red wine was excellent though.

The next thing on the agenda was a stroll along the breakwater to the black sand beach at Playa Jardin.

Large breakers were crashing onto and over the breakwater, driving promenaders inland, pursued by spent waves and spray. There was a good surf piling into the bay too. After that little bit of excitement, it was time to stroll Latin style into town, first passing the streets of the old town with it's small terraces of faded plasterwork, solid wooden doors and dog-shit on the pavements. At least some things haven't changed.

Further into the main town, elegant squares, neat hotels with their balconies and the broad clean paseos make this a delightful place to stop for a taste of civilised tranquillity.

After walking about for a while, we prepared for the real reason for our pilgrimage here. There is a restaurant we used to call the "Green Doors" in Calle Perez Zamora. It then had no name, but had three sets of huge green painted wooden doors. The place looked like one of those 1930s mid-western garages. Now, the green doors have been replaced with new ones. Still green painted, but not as charming. The food is still as good, perhaps even better and it has a name, Puerto Cruz, what else?

The best dish here is the Sama, gilt head bream, grilled with papas arrugadas and served with two salsas (mojo). The Sargos, white bream, is slightly lighter in texture and also delicious. Both dishes are just 850 ptas (£3.16) each. The Rioja is not worth buying here, but the house red is lovely and light and goes well with the fish. What we really like here is that the fish is not over-salted as in some other restaurants. Incidentally, the paella is not so good here.

I had Postres (dessert) for once (I'm allowed to lie, it's my journal after all). It was Bienmesabe, the same egg and almond dish I had in the Monchique, Portugal last year. The Portuguese one was much the better one, but this one was good too.

We sampled another old tradition next morning, breakfast in the very Teutonic Rancho Grande. It is a kind of posh bakery and does a large variety of breads and cakes. The continental breakfast has a nice selection of breads and freshly squeezed orange juice, but the coffee is almost undrinkable.

We wasted little time then getting up to Teide via La Orotava. I drove for about one and a half hours up too many hairpins to count. The sun started to fade as we got higher until we started to meet chestnut trees, when it disappeared behind mist.

Soon after, we were in a pine forest, in the cloud layer and the air got very chilly. We had to put the heater on in the car.

A number of miradors allow you to stop and admire the views down to the coast and other islands.

On one stop we saw a number of barbecues, with benches and food being laid out in the forest for a coach party. It was freezing and no place for a picnic.

We stopped for a quick coffee at a café, before continuing up, emerging above the clouds.

The sun was unopposed here and brilliant sunshine and arid rock transformed the vista. This was where the "Planet of the Apes" was filmed. A real moonscape dominated by the volcanic cone of Teide.

Rockscape below Teide.

I expected the queue for the cable car to the top to be too long to bother with, but it only took 15 minutes to get a ride. Another 5 minutes and we were on top. The views are wonderful and strange. Two paths are permissible at the top. One of 100 metres and the other, 800 metres. If you want to climb Teide, you are supposed to obtain permission from the environment agency.

The sensation of walking and looking down on clouds and lesser peaks is outlandish. Snow, red barren rock, the whiff of sulphur from the crater above and the arid plain below, create a fantastic world.

On a snow ridge, Mt.Teide.  Views from Teide.1 Views from Teide.2

Views from Teide.3

Soon though, we noticed that we were a bit light headed. Louise had to sit for a while and several other folk stopped to steady themselves. At around 3,000 metres (10,000ft) the air is a little thin.

We wandered around for over an hour in the cool air and warm sunshine, not really wanting to lose sight of all that splendour. After another coffee in the café shack, we took one of the gondolas back down. There are two of them and each holds about 30 people.

By now we were starving, so looked at the Parador, but not impressed. We had to eat so tried the Restaurant Teide. We had had a gorgeous chicken dish there once, but things do change. The chicken salmorejo was rather pathetic this time. After years of catering for coach parties, places like this end up dishing up what they can get away with.

The drive back was hard work. After the descent, at about 5pm, we got stuck in rush hour traffic in La Orotava. If you think I'm joking, I can tell you, it's as bad as driving up Piccadilly in London during a demonstration.

Parking in Pto Cruz is difficult too. It took half an hour to find somewhere. By this time I was feeling a bit frazzled. A visit to Puerto Cruz restaurant for some of their therapy was called for, and they did not disappoint. We both had Sama. I think someone there must like me. Louise had a 1/2 kilo fish and mine was about 1 kilo. We both left there revitalised and stuffed.

It took a lot of walking to feel comfortable again. We stopped to watch the ballroom dancers from the promenade in front of the hotels. Once, previously, we stopped for a drink here and the mainly German clientele danced happily, until a man with two ladies, all locals, stepped onto the dance floor. They were in a class of their own, wonderful dancers. The rest of the dancers looking ungainly and wooden, by comparison, left the floor in disgust. To us, it was first class entertainment.

We finished off at the Crisna café in Calle Quintana. It has to be the best place to play guess the nationality. A constant stream of strollers pass it's open front where you can drink reasonably good coffee and pass libellous comment on their dress sense (shell suits and worse, co-ordinated shell suits), origins and eating habits. If you think I like my food, come and see for yourself. The café lays out about 30 huge gateaux every day. Each is about 15cm (6in) high and full of cream. By the end of the day, most are gone.

Even I am staggered by the quantity little old ladies stagger away with. Quite fascinating and a little obscene. If you think it is only Germans and Austrians who love them, think again. The locals are very partial to them too.

There were curious small noises coming from our various neighbours in the hotel that night. Nothing too disturbing, unless you are able to work out what the noises are. Louise's imagination ran rampant.

It was our intention the next day, to drive to the mountain-top village of Masca in the west, but I'd had enough of driving, so we opted for a quiet day in Pto Cruz instead. First stop was a lightly toasted croissant and jam in Crisna and then we wandered down to the rock pools below the promenade by Calle San Telmo. It was pleasant to watch shoals of tiny fish in the pools and the surf crashing onto the rocks further on.

Rock pools, Puerto de la Cruz.

The supermercado Martianez is big, but has a poor selection of most things apart from fish. They also do some exceptionally cheap Turron de Alicante. It's good quality too. Prices generally were good here, but the fruit was especially disappointing.

The town has a number of different sea views which make for an interesting stroll. Apart from the beaches at either end, the harbour is used by fishermen and ramparts give a commanding view of the approaches and pounding waves below. Breakwaters and promenades give changing perspectives and the Playa Martianez has views of distant cliffs along the coastline. Finally, there is the odd-looking Lago Martianez, designed by the architect Martianez. It is a sea water lagoon and leisure complex.

A bit like an oversized hotel pool.

Lunch in El Annexo in Calle El Lomo was not a success. We had garlic chicken, but it was fried and overcooked and over-salted. Poor value all round.

We sat and watched the sea in Playa Martianez before visiting the supermercado.

Dinner was in Restaurante Palatino, also in c/ El Lomo. The last time we came, we were very impressed with the meat dishes. Palatino is more upmarket than most other restaurants in the old town and can be expensive, but it does have some good value dishes.

A glass each of a malmsey type wine is placed at the table when you sit down, followed shortly by some tasty garlic bread, both gratis. The house wine at 950 ptas per litre is quite good. The pork chops were great the last time, but were a bit too salty this time. Louise had BBQ chicken and it was lovely and smoky.

We had to walk a long way to settle our stomachs and what do we do? We gave in to the local helado (ice cream). Café Pinguino and Café Crisna do gorgeous Italian style ice cream in numerous flavours. Crisna has the best selection for hazelnut and pistachio. The melon flavour is first class too.

At breakfast, you can see the staff making the cones for the day's trade.

We had a noisy night, thanks to other guests and then builders at 8.30am. After breakfast, we drove to the south of the island along the autopista. It was a bit surprising to pass through a shower of rain and a couple of wind farms. It's surprising how large the turbines actually are.

In about an hour, we were by the airport, but as our flight wasn't until late afternoon, we made for Los Abrigos, famed for it's seafood restaurants. There is one by the sea called La Marea, where we enjoyed a good lunch. I had a Medregal steak and we also had salad, somewhat better than most. Service is slow, but it is quite busy.

The airport is just 5 minutes away by car. There have been several improvements in the airport, bringing it up to international standards in many areas. There are shops past passport control and decent eating facilities.

It didn't take long to ascend above and alongside the island, viewing the wind farm, the wild sterile rockscape and the ever present Mt. Teide.