I’m halfway through my Canary Islands retreat now, slightly more sunburnt and significantly more relaxed than just a week ago. It’s amazing here; to walk around barefoot from yoga class to patio reading to naps in the sun.
Yesterday I took the shuttle into the touristy beach town about ten minutes away from our remote retreat. When I say touristy, I mean old men in socks and sandals with hawaiian print shirts and cameras around their necks. I mean their wives are wearing visors and clip-on sunglasses. And then there are the random British families on holiday and the large, overly-tanned men in much too short, much too tight shorts.
Opening my eyes after a beach nap there was like finding myself living inside a postcard scene. The clean white sand, teal water, clear blue sky, and black volcanic rock make up a gorgeous natural palette of colours.
Taking a post-brunch walk to the little “supermarcado” up the road, I couldn’t help but smile both inside and out at the soundtrack of our neighbour singing in the garden and the chirping of little wild birds. It was funny to pass a children’s school and realise that, for some, this is just another day in their life, their home, their routine. For me, even the broken teal door set in a nearby, crumbling stone wall is a fascinating sight.
“After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn’t it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked—as I am surprisingly often—why I bother to get up in the mornings.” ~Richard Dawkins