“Oop pardon me sweetie. HEY SHERRY MOVE! SHERRY! MOVE! BAHAHAHA SHE WANTS TO GET BACK IN,” the boisterous, shrill voice of the woman flapping at her friend standing in the aisle granted me just enough of a gap to squeeze by, hop across J’s lap and into my seat. My opinion of the gaggle of ladies next to us was torn. They had brought the party to the plane. I definitely admired their ability to drink, shriek and guffaw for the entire four hours of the flight, but their party hour exuberance was wearing thin. Continue reading “Tenerife South: They Call Me Mellow Yellow”
I love sitting by the window in airplanes. Why? Well there’s often so much to see! I’ve watched the moon rise over a rolling sea of clouds, I’ve seen stars shed miles of atmosphere and sprawling cities blend into a lake of light. I’ve passed over frozen exhaust trails from long-gone jets—a series of floating roads in the sky—and marveled over massive mountain ranges scaring the earth’s surface.
This time I found myself entranced by the mountain dominating a harsh cloud-island. It invoked thoughts of Mount Olympus, home of the Greek gods. At first only a smudge revealed any sign of its presence. Then as the plane closed in to land the mountain loomed out of the haze. “Welcome to Tenerife,” boomed Mount Teide, from under its snow-capped crown.