Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Canary Islands

Now this is more like it! The co-capital of the Canary Islands, Santa Cruz is a chic, bustling little island metropolis. Gals in high heeled espadrils and gays in huge wrap around D&G glasses.

Again mother and I spent the moring wandering the quaint thoroughfares and doing lots of window shopping.

The massive mountains and thick weighty clouds that wedge themselves into the green nooks and crannies is totally my topographic cup of tea.

We take a trip to the other side of the island way up into the hills where the temperature drops and banana trees hold court. Next we head to a botanica garden established in 1774. The Orchids are amazing. It is here where Agatha Christie wrote The Mysterious Mr. Quinn and Oscar Wilde's father would come to relax. We then got dropped off for a bit of shopping in Puerto de la Cruz. What a waste! The entire place stunk of fried fish and burning flesh. This is the part of the Canary's I have heard about where all the British hooligans come for vacation. So not into it. I stare out at the sea and mother makes the best of it, popping into little shops to see what's news.

Mom and I again ate alone tonight. We enjoy a little tete a tete time and there was plenty of space in the dinning room. Half the guests had ordered room service. Since the ocean was a bit rocky too many people had a hard time walking (or keeping their stomach in order). Stalwart sea people that we are, it didn't bother us a bit! We had a Stinger in the bar and went to bed.
Mom is getting irritated with me. I keep passing out at 10:30. Where is her party boy son?!
Don't worry, he will be back.