John Arnold: I headed for the sun... but still talked slurry with Irish farmers

We were in Lanzarote for a week lately, and it was just mighty.

Growing up in the last century, I was endowed with a fine map of foxy curly hair. Added to my crowning glory, I was also covered in freckles - so much so that once, when answering Mass for a visiting priest from foreign parts, he used to call me ‘a speckled tomato’. I never took any offence from that description to be honest - then again, I also had a fine thick skin those times, and still have!

Back in the hay-making long summer days of the 1970s, the freckles came into their own on my face, hands, legs, neck, and even on my chest if I was brave enough to expose that particular area.

They say red-haired people can’t get a suntan, just sunburn, so generally I left my delicate body lead a sheltered life by ‘covering up’ on really hot days.

A straw hat gave great shade, so over the years my freckles became kinda dormant.

Well, last week they returned with a bang and I looked like a lad of 19 -except for the lack of thatch on top!

Then again, when strutting the ‘Strip’ in Lanzarote with my broad brimmer, I didn’t stride out like an Olympian. Two hip replacements, countless GAA meetings over 50 years, and a bit of farming thrown in have knocked a share of the taspy out of me, but what a week we had.

I suppose we must accept the fact that even though my home place, Bartlemy is Tobar Phartalain (The Well of Bartholomew) in Irish, it is highly unlikely that St Bartholomew, or Nathaniel as his friends in the Holy Land called him, was ever here in these parts.

They say he died as a Christian martyr in Armenia, a fair auld step from East Cork. They say the savage loves his native shore, and I’m an example of such a species.

Faraway we were from Bartlemy then when we landed at Cesar-Manrique Airport on the sunny island of Lanzarote. Then we were in the taxi queue to take us to Puerto del Carmen. The first taxi was marked St Bartolome, as was the next one and the next one -they all were in fact. The taxi company was based in the village of St Bartolome, right in the middle of the island.

So, we had flown for nearly four hours - leaving Bartlemy and arriving in St Bartolome!

I enquired during our holiday, and apparently the saint from Cana, one of the 12 Apostles, never set a foot in Lanzarote, no more than in Bartlemy, though both places bear his name.

Towards the end of our foreign sojourn, we took a bus trip one day to the little village of St Bartolome itself. It’s right smack in the middle of the island - inland from the coast where all the hotels and apartments are.

Lanzarote, for such a small island, has huge variety. Dominated by now-dormant volcanoes, the soil is black and reddish and can be very fertile when the rains come. Parts of the island are bare rock and ancient stones.

Then, beyond St Bartolome, myriads of little low stone walls can be seen, many built in a horse-shoe shape. These Connemara-like walls give protection for vines and vegetables from the hot winds that constantly blow.

By means of irrigation, an abundant supply of grapes, fruit and vegetables are harvested and contribute greatly to the economy.

Like many tourist hot-spots, a debate is now bubbling up in places such as Lanzarote about the balance between natives and tourists. Tourism is the major industry, yet so many ‘expats’ have bought and are still buying up properties, that the locals are being priced out of the market. Thousands work in hotels, restaurants, bars and shops on the island, but many find it impossible to buy or even rent a home.

As global warming increases, many resorts will simply be unbearable for millions of European tourists in the hottest May ’til September period.

Then again, with lovely weather all year round, places like Lanzarote will get more popular, especially at this time of year.

As I explained, the combination of my foxiness and milk-white limbs means I never was a sun-worshipper. Don’t get me wrong - I love nothing better than warm days in Ireland in the summer, with a grand breeze blowing up from East Cork! What attracts me to Lanzarote in January is the light early in the morning.

I spent the most of the week away reading books! I know, you might say ‘Couldn’t you read books at home by the fireside?’ – of course I could, but there’s a pure magic about light and nice heat in the month of January.

We flew foreign on the Friday after the week of snow. On the Thursday we had -4 degrees of non-heat, and on the Friday when we landed it was 20C - there’s a difference.

I took history, sport and entertainment books with me. Some of these I had got just at Christmas, others during the year, but all kept for this Lanzarote readathon.

I’m a voracious reader when I get the opportunity so starting and finishing a 350-page book in the one ‘sitting’ - well, there are few greater pleasures in life!

We stayed half-board in our hotel along with about 500 others - many have been staying in the same place year after year.

This year, I behaved myself when it came to the buffet meals. The first time I got the opportunity to eat ad lib, I did the dog on it completely. Plates loaded with cheese, squid, sausages, fried beetroot, eggs of every denomination, and toast, brown bread - and that lot came after the juice and cereals!

Maybe there’s a deep hunger in us Irish, or maybe an ancient traditional fear of the Great famine recurring. That was then, and this year I was more measured in my consumption.

I drank a lot of coffee during the week, but every café was different and I love trying new brews.

Some days, ’twas like walking down Patrick Street in Cork city or Fermoy - Irish everywhere and we knew so many of them too.

Then, maybe in a restaurant or bar and you could hear the Irish accents all over the place.

It amazed me that many Irish farmers - even on holidays - could talk of nothing only slurry, silage and milk!

We had some really super sing-songs in the Irish bars most nights. Taxis were cheap, but even walking the streets late at night in the balmy breeze, it seemed such a safe place, no signs of anti-social behaviour or vandalism.

Of course, that was probably due to a ‘zero tolerance’ attitude to anyone who causes trouble.

Generally, I wore shorts, and though the temperature dial rose to 24 many days, my white legs came home a whiter shade of pale. Maybe I should have lashed on the fake tan from a bottle!

I lazed by the pool several days while reading. Water and me don’t agree, though I love looking at the serene sea.

Out in the hotel balcony in the morning to see the sun rising early, I had to pinch myself to realise it was only still January! We had an absolutely brilliant holiday but would I stay out in Lanzarote full time? No, not for all the tea in China!