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Roysh. I'm sitting in Tenerife North Airport, tongue like sandpaper, stomach like a Riverdance stage and I'm waiting. And waiting. It's been a funny trip so far and yes, I should have written sooner. It has been over 2 weeks since departing a grey and rainy Dublin airport. A brief summary of the story so far.
Pretty much as soon as the traps opened after exams 50 B'n'Lers bolted for sun and 'the craic on tour'. Destination Santa Ponza, Mallorca. With the best of intentions the week was not for seeing Mallorca's beauty in fact it was the only time in my life when I became completely nocturnal. Most of the week can never be spoken of again but suffice to say four years of university was celebrated in a truly epic fashion; by night one I'd lost my phone and my dignity. By night six I'd gained a new phone but no sign of my dignity.
From Mallorca, for some reason, Kev and I proceeded in a hazy blur Madrid-bound. The warning should have been obvious in Palma airport when the check-in guy tried to book us to Ireland via Madrid. We had none of it though and the adventure was on. I don't know whether to dub this next chapter of travels Kevin & Perry Go Large or Bill & Ted's excellent adventure. It's kind of a blend of both. My lasting image of Madrid airport will be Kev spread on the floor beside the baggage carousel nursing a mother hangover or rather the onset of a mother hangover, the night before had after all only ended three hours before. Anyway we made it to our hostel and crashed.
All hopes of showing Madrid how to party were well and truly washed. Our bodies were shells of their former selves. During our first afternoon siesta I woke in a cold sweat, shaking, not knowing where I was. My body was definitely resetting itself. And so Madrid became focused on wandering the city, our first night without polluting ourselves and finding good food. After two nights it was a crack of dawn metro trip back to Barajas airport and onwards to the core of the holiday.
After a quick change in Tenerife onto our new favourite airline in the world, the excellent adventure acquired a new partner in crime. Showing us around his new home and welcoming us into his new life, Rob opened our eyes to a crazy new world on the edge of Europe - no Africa - no Europe. On our first night in El Hierro, Barcelona played Manchester United for the Champion's League (as if you didn't already know). As the final whistle blew and Barca were crowned champs the whole town of La Restinga took their cars blowing horns and flashing lights as they drove around the town. The convoy of three cars lapped the town about four times within ten minutes and returned to the pub after another ten. El Hierro could be the closest I will ever come to a moon-like environment, yet in sporadic bursts you are in a forest reminiscent of Wicklow's own and moments later looking down on sheer cliffs with beaches below. Underwater it's just as crazy with submerged volcano cones and lava flows with more fish life than the not so distant Mediterranean. I've never before had a grouper come over to be petted! All in all the word synonymous with life on this rocky outcrop seems to be chill. I'd bet highly that I'll see it again.
And so then to present times. After a 'hasta luego' to Rob and a smooth ferry crossing to Tenerife we found our apartment in what seemed to be the Tenerife retirement complex. Not to be put off we found our own party and even had the token weirdo join us for a bit of banter. Six hours later we arose, somehow, and parted ways. Kev, Dublin bound through Tenerife South, I on a bus back to Tenerife North, a little daunted that I'd get manage to get there on time and without spending a small fortune. As it turned out I did it in record time for less than €10 and now here I sit, and type, and wait, and wish I'd had an extra hour's sleep.
Whatever title I finally give it, this really is an excellent adventure. The greatest regret is that it is all too short. While I couldn't have survived another day in Santa Ponza, I seem to be spending a lot of time in airports, taxis, ferries, buses and... waiting; waiting for the next great event. Today, after reuniting with Rob, it will be north to dine in Barcelona and tomorrow East to Poland. More stories lie in wait no doubt. The Riverdance has stopped. Now it's just a little like Stavros Flatly. Maybe I'll brave a dry croissant. Or... wait... yes... ice cream. Later.
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