There is almost nothing in common in the themes between my
life and the move 45 Years, yet the
99-minute film resonated with me in small ways. Have you seen it?
First, Charlotte Rampling is my new idol. The grace she
displays in her role makes me want to see every movie she’s ever been in. She
is still attractive; there is no surprise she was a model. I like her
for the fact that she is lithe and lovely and doesn’t seem to give a care about
showing her wrinkles. In some scenes, she positively glows; in others, she looks more her
age—which is not by any means a bad thing, it's just reality. She played the role as though she
was simply playing out life.
Occasionally, in certain scenes, she reminded me of Tim’s
mum; something in the eyes I think. I’ve didn’t know Tim’s mum when she was Ms
Rampling’s age at the time of the movie—born in 1946, she’d have been in her
late 60s—yet there is something . . .
another icon of the swinging 60s! (The sons are no doubt laughing at me.)
There is a wonderful intimacy between the couple in the
movie; the conversation is easy-going and meaningful. There are long walks and
tea in bed (though we prefer coffee). Gasp, there is sex! It gets all a bit
knotty when her husband’s ex-lover turns up, frozen in time where she fell down
a glacier fissure before his now wife came on the scene, but they both admit
that they had life stories they’d never shared. It’s always a bit tricky to
decide how much of your past to reveal: what’s important, and what needn’t be
rehashed. Trust me, I’ve been there.
I hope that Tim and I reach a 45-year anniversary. Of course
that would put us both in our mid-nineties, having started the relationship a
bit late . . . hey, you never know. We’ll have to decide whether the party will
be in London, where we will no doubt keep a little place to feed our cultural
selves, or that place we decide to spend part of the year where it’s not as
grey and damp. We haven’t a clue where that is, though we have discussed a few options. We both like the idea of someplace else between November and
March where we can keep a bit warmer. Greece? South of France? Florida?
In fact, we recently went to Lanzarote, one of the Canary
Islands off the coast of West Africa, and found some of the areas quite lovely.
Friends who live in La Santa, a little fishing village on the western part of
the island, invited us over for gin and tonics and nibbles. Their flat is steps
away from the sea, a place popular with surfers. It was near sunrise and we did have the treat of seeing a few managing the waves. I don’t know that I could work there
the way Dan does—the beauty of the sea is far too distracting. Compared to the
more tourist-laden areas of the island, like Costa Teguise where we stayed, it
is an oasis of calm, low-key living.
Speaking of Tim’s mum, she was a companion on our get-warm
retreat, along with one of the aforementioned sons. (I am told that I should
not mention names as some of them are shy.) And what a lovely trip we had!
The weather cooperated, though the first three mornings were cloudy and cool leaving us initially skeptical.
By midday there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was very warm, a real respite from the England spring where the temperatures were mostly below 50 F / 10 C.
Most days we spent mornings over coffee and conversation,
planning what the rest of the day would be. Several days included journeys by
car—the trip to Timanfaya National Park to get a closer look at the volcanic
part of the island was absolutely stunning. I would not want to drive the
narrow, barrier-free roads that took us high for breathtaking views or down low in valleys where the mountains soared above us. Our coach (bus) driver managed the drive effortlessly. We all loved the architect / artist / activist Cesar Manrique’s
former home, now a gallery, with its delightful rooms designed around the
volcanic plugs. We also took a trip up to Mirador del Sol, a restaurant hidden
in the rock, another Manrique wonder.
It was from there that we noticed La Graciosa, one of the
lesser-known islands of the Canaries. There is a short ferry ride that we
decided to take one sunny afternoon, just at the gap where the return journey
was three hours away (rather than half hour). We had absolutely no idea what
there was to do on the island, but Tim's brother would swim and we’d find a place
for lunch and maybe a short walk.
The ferry was filled with a German tourist group who beat us
to the closest restaurant with a view, and we were told there’d be an hour
delay in getting service. Not a problem; we trundled on in the sand (no
sidewalks here) to a small Italian restaurant that had a few tables outside,
protected from the hot sun by umbrellas, and some couches covered with blankets
for those who wanted to soak up the rays. We opted for the umbrella and the
pizza. There wasn’t much else to do—La Graciosa is an island for cyclists and
trekkers and I believe divers, and we were simply day trippers who thought a
ferry ride would be a nice way to travel. Tim’s brother did get his swim in,
and managed to get back just in time to board the ferry though we had our doubts!
Similarly a trip to Famara, on the west coast, was nothing
like the more populated, popular spots—there are surfers here, too, and
another beach to swim in the sea. Driving along the coast there are a number of
little coves occasionally dotted with swimmers, though quite a bit of the
landscape is rocky. When we first arrived both Tim and I both thought that it
reminded us of Iceland, another volcanic island, though Lanzarote has less
vegetation and more cacti—I don’t recall either a cactus or vineyards in Iceland,
in fact! The local wine is a nice treat, particularly the rose, which is
slightly fruity but with a clean finish. Sure, you can get a Spanish Rioja just
about anywhere these days, but the small production of the local wine likely
doesn’t leave the resorts, and I was happy to have had a taste, or two . . .
None of us speak Spanish with any fluency, but we managed
our “hola” and “como esta” and “buenos dias” phrases well enough, and
occasionally ordered food and wine in the native language. Lunches were
wherever we were, and mostly unresearched, which meant a bit of hit or miss
though mostly all the meals were quite good. We found a lovely Spanish
restaurant called Bodega Marcelo, just outside our hotel, where a harpist and
guitar player serenaded patrons both inside and out by standing just near the entrance.
It was lovely music to enjoy our paella and tapas by. Oh, and of course the
wine. In fact it was one of the places we returned to later in the trip.
Our biggest disappointment on the excursion to Famara was that
our most favourite restaurant, a place called La Norte in Haria, was
closed. We had delicious paella and a lovely Lanzarote rose a few days
before. And the staff was wonderful—we suspect the restaurant is family-run,
but didn’t ask.
It’s those little finds that make you smile when you recall
the memories of the trip.
(Our second choice, named something like La Loca Gambera,
could not compare; just in case you’re heading in that direction.)
We didn’t only eat the local cuisine—we did pop into the Indian restaurant near our resort called Fazz’s and that turned out to be
a hit—a perfect mango lassi, cold beer, and for me a nice house white, though
it took a bit of back and forth to know what it was; the waiter finally brought
over the bottle for my approval.
I’ll admit I didn’t swim in the sea—it’s the Atlantic, and
even in April it was a bit too chilly for me. Tim and I waded in the shallow
bits while his brother bravely took the plunge—always insisting that it wasn’t
cold, LOL, so clearly he has a different body temperature than the two of us! The Atlantic here is gorgeous and clear and marvellously blue green.
So the first holiday of the year is behind us, and we’ve
mentally ticked and verbally discussed the plusses (no mosquitoes is certainly one) of spending
time on Lanzarote. No doubt there will be a few more excursions to places not
far that might suit us for when the time comes to spend a few months in the
sun. And, no, America has not yet been ruled out, LOL!
(Written and posted while en route to Dubai. Onboard Wifi!)
