The Canary Islands

Africa, with some of the world’s most unbelievable history, has always been the continent on the map that I have only dreamed of visiting.  I learned about it in school, heard stories about Dad living there during his childhood and read books set on the vast continent, but I have always considered it a distant, almost unreachable destination.  While it remains a continent that I have never set foot on, the Canary Islands were not only one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, but they also brought me within 100 kilometers of the ever-distant Africa.  With every passing day, destinations, dreams and goals that once rested on a distant pedestal now sit in the palm of my hand. 

We boarded the plane at 9:20 pm with nothing more than a backpack, a bathing suit, and the stunning Google Images of Tenerife on the forefront of our anticipatory minds.  Twelve hours later, the six of us were admiring the surf and crunching our bare feet on the miles of fine sand.  We did not have an itinerary for the next two days, so some adventured to pursue renting a car while others took pictures on the jutting rock faces.  We would spend the next afternoon strolling on the boardwalk, flipping down sand dunes and swimming in the calm waters.  Having come from Granada where my host mom worries every time I go out without at least a warm scarf and a heavy jacket, the pleasant sun complemented by calm winds was a perfect way to spend my day.  It was such an ideal, picturesque setting that I could barely go twenty minutes without blurting out, as though nobody had figured it out already, that we were cruising along an island off the west coast of Africa, worlds away from our suburban homes in California, Oregon, and Colorado.

After a well-spent afternoon on the local beach the day before, we set Saturday aside for our big adventure.  We were lucky enough to rent a car, and after our hostel receptionist starred a few destinations on a simple map, we hopped into our “derpy” station wagon with the knowledge that, as long as we didn’t fall off the island, we should theoretically find our way back to the low-key hostel by the end of the night.  For ten hours, we drove on narrow, windy roads meticulously carved out of unbelievable cliff sides with sights of the majestic Atlantic Ocean resting hundreds of feet below.  While softball-sized rocks blew off the cliffs and smashed into our rental car, we leaned out the window in awe of the absolute beauty that was Tenerife.  Countless times, we pulled off the road to snap ridiculous photos that are sure to impress even National Geographic.  The highlight of my day, however, was finding the beach hidden on the northwest tip of the island.  Surrounded by volcanic rock, we marched along a narrow wooden bridge that led to a platform nestled three feet above the clear blue waters.  We sat for an hour admiring the crabs crawling along the rock faces and the captivating whirlpools.  We eventually made it home later that night, but not without some of the best memories and images that I will cherish for a lifetime.

Every trip, every excursion, every experience yields more appreciation for the opportunities that lie before me, and I continue to realize that there is little that stands between me and my passion to learn and explore.  Tenerife was undoubtedly one of the most amazing destinations thus far and, who knows, maybe I will be riding a camel through the Sahara sometime in the near future; what stands in my way?