tenerife

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As we rolled on throught the countryside of tenerife, past los christanos, past the pub that my dad allegedly ran off to, head down, theyll be a bar bill in their with my name on it no doubt, always could rely on him for that.

into las americas, somehow the islands authorities have managed to come up with a name that drums up comparisons to las vegas, desert town with bright lights, dreams and adventures, cocktails and gambling, fortunes made and fortunes lost..clever marketing that..

las americas, bright lights, slight smell of vomit, Wiagn pier pub, high rise buildings, england flags and ireland flans next to each other on the 37th floor or casa dona lola hotel, thought about the irony of those 2 flags co habititng with each other, but then i realised that words like irony shouldnt be used in this town "irony mate, you taking the piss?" "er, yes actually, that is the actual definition.. oh sod it why bother"

the coach rolled on, wideboy was like a dog on heat, well, slightly drunk dog on heat that needed to eat food and apply suncream to his already burnt face (may i remind you that is 3am) i was still in the throws of excitement, who are these people im on holiday with, why are all the signs in manuel from fawlty towers language, why is wideboy telling me he loves me again? and then it appeared..

our residence for the next week, like a mirage in the desert, or shack in the middle of a council estate, no high rise for us readers, ours was a 2 storey set of apartments built around a set of gardens, we had hit jackpot, the posion from the travel bug was working its way into my system, i actually thought this was heaven. rooms divied up, im with wideboy and ginge, our room snakes past the white washed walls and stair cases, past the gardens..into another block attached to the hotel, im still ok, i can still see its only 2 floors, the brown stains of leaking water only at this point suggested to me that maybe we had a water piece in our rooms, maybe a fountain..

door doesnt open first time, quick kick and key turn and we're in, striaght to the balcony to open the curtains and to see the views of the ocean, i can smell the sweet scented oranges ive dreamed of since boarding our 11.45pm monarch airlines flight, curtains flung back,looking across the rolling vista of the gardens seperating us from a block of flats facing into our room (rolling vista of gardens in spanish translates to- view across the bins) to where 5 girls(here my memory is hazy but im pretty sure they were girls, well, they had breasts which in retrospect doesnt actually stand up a a clear definition of a girl here on the sun kissed isle of tenerife)from the north, you can just tell, believe me,it was the manchester united tattoos that gave it away, were serenading me;
"get your cock out get your cock out get your cock out for the birds"

the smell of orange blossom wasn't from the orange trees in the garden, it was from the smell of cheap sweet booze drifting from them across the warm atlantic breeze..the poision from the bite of travelling suddenly started making me sweat..

laugh, mock welcome
the reluctant traveller

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