Tuesday February 24th 2015.
Falow Pension, Las Palmas, Gran
Big day. Huge. I’m pooped. Woke at nine
after an epic sleep, I’m clearly exhausted by spending so much time
with my family- listening to the same thing over and over again can
take its toll I suppose. But, then, I did have a ten hour travel day
yesterday when all is totted up, so, eleven hours sleep is perfectly
acceptable. And I’m on holiday. So.
Did a stretch this morning and then
trundled about a bit trying to find somewhere with Wifi. I must’ve
asked in about ten places with no joy, it was getting embarrassing-
and tedious. In the last place I asked the woman why nowhere had Wifi
and she basically said because they want an atmosphere, people to
interact, not everyone staring down at a screen. Yes, that’s great, I
couldn’t agree more, but I need to book a flight out of this
motherfucker and I’m not going to bowl into the local travel agents
to do that.
Eventually I found and internet cafe-
there was a portal back to the early 00’s and I managed to slip
through unharmed. I grabbed a quick cafe con leche (I’m so Spanish,
it’s just what WE order) and a terrible ham and cheese sandwich (it’s
also quite Spanish to have a shitty ‘sandwich mixta’ for breakfast,
you save all the good ham and cheese for dinner, otherwise where
would you be?) before heading in to find a flight.
Flight booked, decided to stay an extra
day as it’s about fifty bucks cheaper to go on Thursday. Also booked
myself into a hostel that has Wifi for Wednesday night. Civilisation,
it turns out, is just around the corner.
Business taken care of, it was time to
get walking. I grabbed some fruit and headed north along the coast,
once you get away from the standard seafront bullshit it’s actually a
great trek. About 5km in this trail comes to a halt and there’s rusty
barbed wire and a sign saying that you cannot enter, it’s a military
zone, it’s dangerous. I was about to turn back and two local guys on
mountain bikes slipped through and I trotted behind them and asked if
it was okay. They asked me if I was a spy (a great joke) and said
that it was fine, no one ever checked and even if they did, they
wouldn’t do anything, they’d just kick you out. They biked through
and I stood there for a moment, hesitating and thought, “What would
an intrepid traveler do? The kind that would assimilate himself with
locals?” So I basically walked through a deserted military base-
some crumbled buildings flanked by rugged coastline and crashing
waves on one side and a steep hill of volcanic rock on the other.
After a few kilometres the path came to an end and I walked back,
quite full of myself. A great thing to be full on, occasionally.
Attempting to meet my training quota of
30km, I ascended a hill, came down the other side, walked along the
north east side of the island- mostly naval base territory,
industrial stuff, anti-establishment graffiti and graffiti declaring
eternal love- the two kinds of graffiti I’ve always enjoyed the most,
pictures of cocks notwithstanding.
Eventually I got back to the pad,
showered (I was sweaty as fuck), did a big stretch (I was achy as
fuck) and then wrote about Monday. By six thirty I was caught up and
then popped out for some food- octopus and some morcilla with
pimentos and a couple of glasses of wine (that shit is cheap) while
watching Manchester City v Barcelona in the Champions league. Good
game. Then back home to write this. And now bed, it’s nearly 10.30pm,
which is too late for me.