Lanzarote - Day 1

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After having explored the basics of the resort, both intentionally and unintentionally, I've got the lay of the land for the rest of my trip.

It seems fitting to start with the unintentional exploring as that's where I began my holiday when we arrived.

Firstly, this hotel is up the wrong way. You walk through reception to the terrace that presents you with a magnificent view over the pool and the fan of rooms below... but that means that the reception, and more importantly, the main bar are UP from your room. This, and the fact that the place is woefully lacking in signage, leads you to an exciting meander through the building until you can drill the new convention into your head.

I found my room relatively quickly, tomorrow I'm going to time how long it takes to walk back to the main building because honestly, it felt like a trek. I unpacked, freshened up, and then the entertainment began and I made my first mistake. I walked out of my room and turned the wrong way, and being at the far end of the building I found a few dead ends that looked almost identical to what I was actually looking for.

On this section of the jaunt though I did at least find what I later discovered was the exit (during the day) to the pool area, and a cat... so all was not lost!

This initial mishap led me to conclude that the correct way was the completely opposite direction, off I plodded and eventually found the correct corridor leading back to the centre of the resort.

I knocked on what I hoped was my parents room to see if they were coming to the bar but there was no answer. Loitering in the corridor seemed like a less than ideal situation so I contemplated for a moment and realised I still had my trainers on. Off I pootled back to my room.

I'm not proud of what happened next... when I left my room I went the wrong way again. For my sanity I'm going to say that exhaustion and travelling had numbed my brain. That along with the signs that never seem to point anywhere logical clearly meant that everything was conspiring against me.

The other main discovery was the fact that at every junction in the hotel there are tables, sofas, shelves and books. Lots of books. There are more books in some sections that in the actual library that's housed in reception. My next task is going to be systematically finding all the books to be nosy at what people have been reading. I found some great titles and thought I'd got my first holiday read in Arthur Hailey's Airport, but unfortunately it was in German. Had it been in Spanish I might have had a passing chance at reading it.

But onwards!

The whole first day was a little on the British side shall we say... a little soggy. When it was warm it was lovely and when the rain came, not so much. Nowhere was safe, the umbrellas by the pool are exclusively for the eradication of sun and offer only slight protection against rain, and the pool bar that looks like a refuge was anything but. It looks wonderful and stylish. Glass walls and a reed ceiling.  Those two thing however don't touch and you're left with a gap that lets in anything that isn't coming straight down.

We wandered up to the top of the complex where there's the "indoor" pool. I put that in quotes because I'm never really sure that a greenhouse/tent counts as indoors. There's also some club areas up there too, those bits are only accessible if you have paid extra... or you can step over a low hanging rope. That privilege also gets you bathrobes, newspapers, a better room, a private bar and "luxury" gazebos around the main pool. As far as I can tell, privilege in this instance means privacy (vaguely) and avoiding the entertainment program. But where's the fun in coming on holiday unless you can meet new people and watch the world go by?

The thing you notice early on is that the staff are lovely. There are smiles everywhere and a cheery greeting. Something that never ceases to amaze me is how well they all speak English. The effort hotel staff go to to make their guests feel welcome is incredible. Many pause as if they're unsure whether they've said things correctly, but their English is infinitely better than my Spanish.

The bar staff enjoy their European measures. The bottle of spirit is brought to the table when you order and they pour it for you there. Then a dance happens that is reminiscent of the way my Nan used to portion dinner. The knife would be poised to cut a slice of pie to the size you indicated, there would be acknowledgements and then the knife would move making the slice infinitely wider and that would be what you got. Needless to say that after one rum with a hint of coke I was already feeling the warming effects.


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