Tag Archives: Lanzarote

Tits and Knickers, Canary style

Parking on market day in Teguise is surprisingly easy we agreed as I hurtled the Fiat Panda into just one of the hundred or so vacant spaces in the centre of this Lanzarotian town, in the centre of Lanzarote on our March time trip to the Canary Isles.

“And there was me thinking this was the touristic market,” I gushed, flushed with the success of, not only surpurlative navigation skills but also staying on the correct side of the road the whole way up to the white walled, green shuttered pueblo.

“It does seem very empty,” Gracie commented. “You’d think that would be the epicentre of any market, wouldn’t you?” She waved at an empty square and an even emptier marquee, its plastic doors flapping in the not inconsequential breeze that Teguise is famed for.

“I told you the last time I came here it was like a wild west town, complete with tumbleweed infested streets,” said I.

“But that wasn’t market day, was it?” a backseat driver inquired rhetorically.

And of course, dear readers nor was this. Mrs Carmichael had dragged the Lunching Ladies of Lanza on a wild ‘bargain’ chase. The island’s biggest and oldest out-door market is held on a Sunday morning. This being Saturday, we were a good twenty hours early. Still, there was plenty of parking.

just me and the sixteen others (mrscarmichael)
just me and the twenty others (mrscarmichael)

And, as it turned out, plenty of ‘bargains’ to purchase.

But first we consoled ourselves with brunch.

tortilla heaven (mrscarmichael)
tortilla heaven (mrscarmichael)

And then, along with the other seventeen people in town that day, we hit the shops. Mis tres amigas acquired a lot of jewellery. I mean a lot, a lot.

I bought this………..

ever so slightly more garish in the flesh (mrscarmichael)
ever so slightly more garish in the flesh (mrscarmichael)

“Why?” you ask.

I am the first to agree that the question is a reasonable one. And the answer.

I don’t know.

but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And I did meet the woman who crocheted it. That makes it better I think. And it suits me. Well, in a dark room with a following wind. It suits me better than it suits my friends. I guess, on reflection that could and probably does say more about me……………and not in a good way.

A wee while later I bought this………

make mine a cactus cocktail, por favor (mrscarmichael)
make mine a cactus cocktail, por favor (mrscarmichael)

“Why?” you ask.

It is in many ways an even more reasonable question. More so when you know that it cost more and I have worn it even less than the yellow crochet hat. I wore the hat for the rest of our time in Teguise because I thought I was funny. Hmmmmm. Photos don’t lie unfortunately. Thirty one of Yours Truly sporting this fashion forward item of clothing have gone into the virtual bin. It’s for the best.

Or should I say breast?

Breast might indeed be best because I was still wearing my sunny hat when I avoided arrest by wink and a nippy burst of speed an hour or so later.

Bored ever so slightly with the conspicuous consumption of baubles by the only three people I knew in Teguise, I had plonked myself down at a café to await empty- wallet- time when my eye was drawn by two mannequin contemporaries of mine in a distressing state. It was that good ‘ol Teguise breeze you see.

oh no (mrscarmichael)
oh no (mrscarmichael)

Her friend was similarly exposed.

tits ahoy (mrscarmichael)
tits ahoy (mrscarmichael)

I jumped up and and attempted to cover their modesty. My café owner, coming out for a not so swift fag, caught me with both hands on a bosom and made the ludicrous assumption that Mrs C was stripping the gals for her own pleasure and an x- rated photo opportunity.

Shouting he rushed at me. I dodged his parry and, fleet of foot vanished into, you guessed it, a jewellery shop.

My friends, looking up from their jewel buying for a nanosecond, found it hilarious. Thank heaven the mannequins’ manager realised I was more good samaritan than sex pest and called off the one man Spanish Armada. Phew.

“I’m putting a white wash on,” I announced on return to Villa Vida later that afternoon. The girls brought me their whites and we collapsed by the pool to discuss nonexistent markets, excessive jewellery consumption, lucky escapes and clean clothes. All discussion complemented by a well deserved vino blanco. Or two.

“Huston, we have a problem,” I was forced to concede on attempting to allocate lavender scented linen and lingerie to four piles a wee while later.

Gracie it transpires, has the same taste in bras and knickers as YT and apparently we had both stocked up well for our holiday. The bras were easy (she has no tits), the seven pairs of identical XXS knickers not so. Thank goodness we’ve been amigas for mumble, mumble, mumble years. What’s a bit of polyester – sharing between old friends?

We met, last Friday, in Soho for a catch-up. As tour guide, I booked the themed venue – tapas of course and set the rules of attendance.

All purchases made in Lanzarote must be worn.

I thought it amusing at the time. Gracie and K…… were there sporting identical volcanic orange pendants and rings on most fingers. L…… apparently hasn’t taken off the silver ring she had fitted in the breast shop. And I, M’lud? I ‘forgot’ the self imposed rubrics and arrived looking great.

Do Not Underestimate the Power of Sunshine on the Soul

The rays of unadulterated sunniness beating down upon Casa Carmichael this day (stronger, bluer, clearer, cleaner than predicted) force my thoughts back to Lanzarote and the Lunching Ladies’ trip, March- time. There too we expected to be met by pockets of cloud and a ‘now you see me now you don’t’ yellow globe in the Atlantic sky.

IMG_9957
nary a white interference (mrscarmichael)

“if this is partially cloudy,” we purred, “It’s time to move to Spain.”

This view of Montana Roja from our villa in Playa Blanca at the foot of Lanzarote is sublime. It encapsulates all that this volcanic island is and the violent beauty it parades for a tourist’s delectation. How I wish the inside of our villa lived up to the same majestic standard.

Thankfully, Gracie was a little out of sorts on this our first day in Life Villa and thus K…… and Yours Truly could leave the lengthy itemising of transgressions, faults, flaws and downright disappointments that our accommodation presented, to our friend. She went to work with both an alacrity and intensity missing from her persona prior to arrival at the house.

Having been the finder, booker, interacter and haggler with mine hosts it would be more than fair to say that whilst I was pleased Villa Vida actually existed and we had ingress (always a risk even if ever so slight in using Owners’ Direct) I felt a tad responsible for the drab and I bowed, just a mite, under the barrage of complaint.

Thank god the sun shone.

We drew straws for the bedrooms. Those of you who have followed my ‘girls on the hoof’ series will know that recently Mrs C’s luck has been out in the allocation of bed and or boudoir. No change to report I am afraid. I popped my suitcase on one of my two micro-beds and practiced my fakey, snaky smile.

The winning of the West Wing, complete with uber-king sized bed, ensuite bathroom, changing room and direct access to the pool did little to improve Gracie’s mood and went no way in counterbalancing the missing plunger in the coffee percolator.

We set her onto the landlord. Fangs bared through smiling bouche, Gracie effected a meeting for the morrow and a replacement cafetiere to be rushed to Villa Vida with armed escort imediatement.

The sun shone.

We went shopping for food and wine. The food and wine on Lanzarote is very cheap in comparison to London. Gracie’s mood began to improve. We bought a lot of vino blanco and some rosé for good measure. Bread, cheese, olives, salami, tomatoes, crisps, water, coffee (in anticipation of a working coffee maker) more cheese and a couple of backup bottles of wine. At four euros a pop, it would have been churlish not to, you must agree.

The sun still shone as we repaired to the villa and settled in for a very late lunch.

Lunch was particularly late due to the fact that, idiots that we are, a hire car booking had been made with Ryan Air at the time of cheap flight confirmation. Fools. My advice, for what it’s worth, is if you’re going to Lanzarote do not book your hire car with Ryan Air. Here are a couple reasons why:

It will not be as cheap as you think it is.

We got done for the extra driver. Others in the hundred deep queue appeared to get done for quite a load more. The was shouting, weeping and some rather threatening language. Oh and a little bit of over the desk lunging as well. K……., our newest holiday recruit, felt the need to step away from the front line of battle and check out the sunshine beyond the terminal walls leaving hardened campaign veterans, Gracie and myself to fight the good fight and wait our turn to collect the Fiat Panda.

Collection will not be a speedy as you hope it to be.

With every single passenger from every single Ryan Air flight in this one queue it will take time to get your hire car. Every other car rental desk will be empty but you will have already paid in full so must wait your turn. Ha – you think you have paid in full. I promise you will not have (see above). The crying man in front of us seemed to be fund- less. Fundlessness takes time. A great deal of time.

Your car will be way more dented than the itemised dent/scrape list presented to you.

You need to take more time to have it re-calibrated or it will cost you more than you think. Our flight took three and a half hours of not too bad Ryan Air timeliness and service. Getting the hire car took almost two.

Need I say more?

But, the sun was still shining as we sat down to a late lunch on our patio with a view to die for.

“You know how we said we’d get L……, from the airport tomorrow?” I asked Gracie as we ploughed into our second bottle of Spanish wine.

Our fourth wheel was joining us Thursday through Monday.

“Mmmmm,” Gracie grunted while wrenching the cork from a third bottle.

“Why don’t we ask if she’d get a taxi instead? There’s something utterly unappealing about that airport. And look at the sunshine we’d be missing.”

Gracie sent a text informing her of the new plan.

Bikinied up, we prepared to enjoy the last few moments of Canarian sunshine while anticipating a sun bathe to die for in the morn now that airport run duties no longer stood in our way.

some of my favourite colours viewed from a prone position (mrscarmichael)
some of my favourite colours viewed from a prone position (mrscarmichael)

“Do you want to swap bedrooms?” I asked Gracie from my sun lounger.

There was no reply from mi amiga, too busy was she collating and binding the pages of villa defects for presentation to Steve, our landlord, in the morning. For his sake I hoped he got a good night’s sleep.