Hey gang, sorry for the lack of updates…I’ve just been having too much fun! It’s the 22nd, and Simon left today, officially marking the end of the first stint of travel buddies joining me. We had a lovely evening last night where I cooked up some paella for the first time (I had to give Simon a run for his money as the mussels he did on Saturday were pretty good…) We then had some cocktails and played a bit of pool. It was one of those lovely balmy evenings (my new favourite way to describe a warm evening, if anyone’s keeping track). We had to settle who was really the best pool player, as we were drawing. Fair to say I won…no surprise there (it was close, the mojito I had before just made me score some really nice shots). During the evening, we were speaking about some of our favourite memories so far from the previous week (HOT TAKE: This should be mandatory at the end of every trip). We each had the same favourite day, so I thought it would be a nice reflective exercise to write it all down and share it with ye.

Once upon a time, on a small island off the coast of Morocco…just kidding.

Me and the gang (Luke (my brother for those who don’t know, Simon & Francis (childhood pals)) were coming up with plans for the remainder of the week following the exciting news that Luke and Francis were going to extend their trip by a few days (see – having too much fun!). We checked the weather and saw that it was going to be 35C-37C on Thursday, and given how we were handling 28C, we figured we would be best off going to the north of the island, where it tended to be a bit more cloudier and cooler. Better for us Irish. We had previously gone to this beautiful beach called Playa El Bullola, near Puerto de la Cruz, and we figured this would be a good shout to go there again. It’s this incredible black sand beach with turquoise waters, cliffs that tower high above you, and – you guessed it – a bar.

We gathered our things and hopped into our VW rental, meandering our way over the volcano and down to the other side of the island. The guys hadn’t seen the volcano during the day (we did some stargazing though – more on that later) and so we figured this detour would be worthwhile. Plus we got to squeeze in a bit more time in an air conditioned space. We made a brief pit stop to admire the view, catch our breath in the thin air, and have a drink to cool off. As we gradually rolled down into the greener side of the island, we entered a stunning little town, full of tropical plants, colourful houses, and cute little restaurants and cafés dotted along the road down. We pulled into one café where the terrace sat at the edge of the hill and overlooked Puerto de la Cruz, right to where it meets the ocean. This would probably be a decent spot to enjoy a coffee, we thought. We sipped on our barraquitos, some of the lads fed on their nicotine addiction, and took in the view, before jumping into the car again for the final stretch of the journey.

After some of the narrowest of roads, we made it to the beach and it wasn’t long before we got in the water and caught some waves. The waves were good that day, and not to sound too much like goldilocks, but they weren’t too big, nor too small. Just perfect. However, the calling for calamari came in quite quickly, so we dried ourselves off and headed to the bar. I also made sure to get myself a “Damn Lemon”, essentially a shandy but just that bit better, especially on a hot day like that. The calamari also hit the spot. We lounged, chatted about things (I forget what) and the lads had a few more puffs of their cigarettes before the heat became too much to bear and we had to get back in the water. We stayed in the water for another two hours. The waves, again, were perfect, and we had all got the hang of catching them (though we did seem to still look to Luke for guidance as to whether the next wave was worth catching or not). I forgot to mention we also had a bodyboard – this was a good purchasing decision. We did get battered around a bit by some of the waves. One wave hit me right in the mouth and the saltwater intake did force an outtake of calamari back into the ocean. Sorry if that was too graphic. Still worth it though.

Our hands and feet were starting to prune so we headed back out, dried ourselves up and made the long walk back up the cliffs and to the car, before setting off for the magnificent Chicken Shack. This is not the real name of the restaurant. It’s technically called Oasis, in Adeje, but they only serve chicken, so we figured Chicken Shack was more fitting. While we are all fans of outdoor dining, all the seats were taken, but the sweetest waitress got us a table inside and made sure we got our cervezas, spicy chicken + chips and salad quickly. The table beside us were also from Ireland. You could tell by a) the accents and b) the conversation over Cork vs Tipp – this was before the All Ireland…I wonder what conversations they have had since. Our waitress then told us that a table had freed up outside, if we wanted to sip on our barraquitos there. It was an obvious answer. There was something so nice about coming from the brightly lit indoors to the soft street lighting, the balmy weather (I told you I like that word), and the chatter that filled the uphill street. None of us spoke though. We were exhausted, but it was the nice type of exhausted where no one had to say anything but we were all in collective agreement that this was a very good day.