Is that a cockroach, or a small dog?

Trip Start Dec 22, 2007
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Trip End Jan 16, 2008


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Flag of Spain  ,
Thursday, December 27, 2007

Up early for the flight to the Canary Islands.  We had breakfast at "La Sirena Verde", a place just outside of the hotel.  It was pretty early - 6 AM - you wouldn't think that any places would be open at this hour in Spain, because everybody is a night owl here and you wouldn't think anybody would be up this early for breakfast.  But this is Spain - this restaurant likely wasn't open at 6 AM for early risers, it was probably open for people just going home from the clubs! 
 
Off to the airport - bye, bye Madrid!  Bye, bye Spain!  Bye, bye Spanish hotties!  Sob ... sob ... luckily I stole a pack of tissues from the hotel to dry my tears!  They smelled so sweet ... just like Spanish hotties!  No!  I don't wanna leave!!!
 
Our flight was on Spanair - unfortunately, there wasn't a repeat of the flight attendant situation on yesterday's flight a
a
.  Perhaps today's crew was the mothers of yesterday's crew? 
 
Some big Spanish dude sat next to me, and was kind of rubbing up on me.  Sadly, this was the closest contact I've ever had with somebody from Spain - it's unfortunate that he wasn't female and hot! 
 
Not much happened on the flight.  The landing was pretty cool as it was right alongside the ocean.  Waiting at the baggage claim, I noticed that there was a direct flight arriving from Prague.  Cool!  I didn't realize that the Canary Islands were such a big tourist destination for people outside of the UK. 
 
While waiting, I noticed a girl that Tri would like.  What kind of girl does Tri like?  Let's just say that he likes fruit - especially very large melons ... There was an odd odor of ketchup in the terminal.  I have no idea why this was. 
 
We hopped into a taxi for Corralejo, on the northern part of Fuerteventura and about 30 minutes from where we landed (Puerto Del Rosario).  I practiced my Spanish with the driver.  I accidentally insulted him when I asked if he was from the Canaries or if he was from Spain a1
a1

 
This was a no-no - I meant to ask if he was from the Canaries or from the mainland, but didn't know how to say that in Spanish (turns out they refer to the mainland as the "peninsula").  "This IS Spain ..." he politely reminded me.  Many Canarians feel marginalized, and that they aren't really treated as if they are a part of Spain.  Oops - my bad! 
 
We arrived at the hotel and we gave him a 3 Euro tip.  He only accepted 1 Euro and returned the 2 Euro coin.  How often do you see that in Canada?  It's nice to be in a place where tips aren't expected! 
 
The resort was nothing special, but it was cheap.   It's a little bit tacky - just a typical all-inclusive resort (though luckily, we were able to take only the accommodation part).  Upon arrival, the receptionist was surprised that I was Canadian because apparently, I speak Spanish with an Irish accent!  What the heck?  I take pride on how hard I work on my Spanish accent, and how hard I try to speak it as correctly as I possibly can.  I could understand her saying I have a Canadian accent, but an Irish one?  But really, I shouldn't take it too personally given that she's not a native Spanish speaker (she's from Wales and spoke Spanish quite well) a2
a2

 
The room wasn't quite ready when we arrived, so I started chatting with the maid.  Yolanda was from a small town near Salamanca.  Apparently, there are more jobs and the pay is better in the Canaries.  There isn't much for people in the small towns that don't attract any tourists, and you can really only find good jobs in the bigger cities.  And if you can't ... then you've got to look elsewhere. 
 
At the hotel, I saw a terrible sight that told me that no Spaniards vacationed here - the pasty-white bodies of Northern Europeans!  It's mostly people from the UK in this particular resort town.  It wasn't so bad once I put on my Inuit sunglasses to protect my eyes from the blinding white glare. 
 
Off to lunch at Poco Loco, an Argentinean grill - there were tons of these steakhouses in town, all catering to the UK tastes.  We grabbed a few pints of San Miguel and started on the bread.  Warm bread!  With butter!  This is definitely one of the ways that catering to the UK tastes is a positive!  The bread was way better than the rock hard bun that was served with Ha's breakfast this morning.  
 
It was a pretty good lunch - the food at this restaurant is definitely better than the typical meal you'll find on the peninsula a3
a3
.  Everything was accompanied by Canarian potatoes - just potatoes in their skins, salted and oven roasted.  It's a specialty here - it's really nothing much, but comes from a time when islanders had very little.  They were served with garlic aioli and spicy ketchup-like sauce. 
 
There was very little talk - just eating.  It was definitely a tasty meal.  Perhaps you can only get good Spanish food OUTSIDE of the peninsula?  Who would've thunk it?       
 
Off to the dunes - a neat spot, but cold!  It was pretty cloudy and breezy today.  We hung around for a while and then headed back to town.  We picked up some groceries and encountered some VERY b*tchy staff.  The machine wasn't reading Ben's credit card - so the staff kept trying and trying, and giving us glares and speaking rudely to us.  We even offered up cash at one point, but they said nothing.  The basically blamed us for the problem. 
 
They finally took the card to the central terminal and got it to work - but then they couldn't get it to register on the till, so they got pissed off again.  A huge lineup formed behind us - the next lady in line got screwed, but deserved it d
d
.  You could see her rolling her eyes at us and being a jack@ss.  Everybody behind her changed lanes when a new till opened up, so she got stuck at the end because she was the last one to do so.  But then things got sorted out at our till, and a bunch of other new customers jumped into line behind us.  Ha ha!  Karma's a b*tch, isn't it?
 
We weren't too pleased with how were treated, so we joked that we should return the next day and play a joke on them.  Ben would buy a single mushroom with his credit card, and after they go through a big production to get it to work, I would be next in line trying to pay for a single pea with a 100 Euro bill.  It's a very pricey store - they quite obviously price gouge because they are in a tourist town. 
 
Back to the condo terrace for a Tropical beer (a Canarian brand).  Nothing special.  I munched on some peanut-based chips that I had purchased earlier.  Kind of like Cheetos, but instead of a cheese flavour, it was peanut butter-ish. 
 
Dinner was at "La Factoria", an Italian place.  The waitress was from Milan - when she found out that I had been there, she asked me what my opinion was.  I didn't really want to tell her that I didn't like it - but then she told me she didn't like living there, either e
e
.  Her parents hail from Palermo, in Sicily. 
 
I made a mistake ordering the wine - I noticed a Bardolino, a wine I first tried in Verona while watching Aida in their 2000-year old Roman theatre (see Euro 2006 blog entitled "She had the firmest breasts I've ever touched!"), and haven't had it since.  But what I didn't notice was that it was a rose wine.  Damn!  At least it was still a decent wine.  Overall, the meal was pretty average.  

I accidentally walked into the kitchen when looking for the bathroom - a couple of caucasian guys sitting at a table nearby laughed at me.  It kind of reminded me of traveling through the Baltic states, where all the Caucasian people kept staring and laughing at me because they'd never seen an Asian before!
 
Back to the condo - earlier, I had dropped one of those peanut Cheetos on the ground outside.  It was dark when we arrived, but I noticed four rather large cockroaches eating it.  Nasty!  We scurried into the condo - luckily it was so dark that you couldn't see how grotesque the cockroaches were.  But then Ha screamed in her room - she said she saw something moving around her suitcase. 
 
"Silly Ha" I thought "How bad could a little cockroach be?"  Then it scurried out from underneath the suitcase.  "Holy sh*t!" I said, as I jumped back.  It was MASSIVE!!!  Probably 2" long, with 1 to 1.5" antennas!  Hearing his damsel in distress, Ben emerged from the bathroom with a broom, gave a Tarzan-like scream, and started whacking at the cockroach.  Ben's experience yielding a Maori spear came in handy today! 
 
"Me caveman Ben!  Me save Ha!  Me kill cockroach!  Me like cheeseburger!" Ben yelled after conquering the beast.  I was thankful that the giant cockroach was killed, but even more thankful that Ben was wearing a shirt and pants at the time, and not a Tarzan-like loin cloth.   
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