5. Tenerific

Tenerife is the big boss of the Canary Islands, a bit of a shock after the rather daintily pretty islands we’ve visited so far. Santa Cruz is a bustling port city and the landscape on view from the ship is decidedly urban: apartment blocks, offices and hotels, with just a hint of the natural beauty of the mountains beyond. 

D & I hotfooted it off into the city about 11.00am; hotfooted indeed, as in between gusts of warm wind, it was scorchio. Trekked uphill to the shops (all these islands seem to be hilly), spent the mandatory 4 euros on coffee, whizzed around the Mercado La Recova (painted bowls, smelly cheeses, local art), then decided to look for the Bus Turístico. Such a good way to see a new city, I said. 

                                                                             

                                                        

After fruitlessly searching for the bus route that was marked on our map, we headed for the Tourist Information Office for advice. Couldn’t find that either, until we saw a map outside the police station, which showed it had been moved. When we eventually found it they told us the Bus Turístico no longer runs, but helpfully circled a few cultural highlights on an up to date map, including, after a little prompting, the shopping malls.  Ended up walking to the distant El CorteIngles department store: 8 floors of gorgeous things, none of which we could appreciate, because we were about dead.

Shuffled back to the ship, which was much further away than it looked – like in Paris where the Eiffel Tower always looks close but you walk miles to get to it – and gratefully collapsed in the buffet. Amazing how many people were on the ship, some obviously don’t bother to go ashore at all and there is still a full itinerary of activities going on. We could have gone to Burn Fat Fast, done some fancy napkin folding or joined in the Indoor Curling. D said as we’ve done 15,000 steps today, all we need to do is open the wine.

The Captain sent a letter out last night, basically asking us all to clear off tomorrow and spend as long as we could onshore in Tenerife - or get ourselves up on deck and stay there. This is because a ‘full sanitisation’ of the cabins was due to take place, in addition to the already rigorous infection control. We have hand gel squirted at us relentlessly and are not allowed to touch anything on the buffet. Every evening the banisters are swilled down, making the already shiny brass lethally wet, not ideal for old folk who try to hold on and fall forward, as our sanitised hands slip down three feet. Half the people in sick bay have the gastric bug and the other half have broken ankles.

So sorry for those whose holiday has been blighted by illness, particularly if they’ve had to use the toilet more often. The toilets are terrifying. There is a notice by each one, warning you not to flush when you’re sitting on it and when you do flush, the reason becomes clear. A noise like a jet engine signals a horrifyingly powerful vacuum flush that empties the toilet in a nanosecond. Honestly, if you were sitting on it your bum would definitely get sucked down the u bend.

Barbecue on deck tonight for those not trapped in the toilet, but D & I are limping up to one of our usual restaurants, then going to see Elton John in the Arena Theatre. Well, someone called Steve Hollington pretending to be him, anyway. Terrific.