Sunday, 5 July 2015

My week in Lanzarote

After spending the week in Lanzarote, I look back on my fantastic trip abroad looking at my week, contemplating Vegetarianism, Calamari and Children.

So I just got back from an All-inclusive holiday in Lanzarote. It would have been wrong of me to NOT gorge myself daily and get drunk on hotel cocktails. I felt just like a Greek God.

This was my first holiday whilst being a vegetarian and I struggled with it: especially given the fact that I have essentially, unlimited free food whenever I wanted it. I love my vegetarianism, but I was equally torn by the fact that I wanted to get my money’s worth: I was tempted to get some Pulled Pork because I am a tight bastard, and not because I desired to eat it.

These parrots weren't on the menu, but if they were: my vegetarianism would be broke.

One afternoon, they had some unlabeled Onion rings to eat. I thought it was safe to eat right? Nope. It was a Calamari. In the shape of an Onion Ring. That is the most deceived I have ever been. How evil must someone be to do that?  Couldn’t they use a less assuming shape? Perhaps a Calamari Rhombus? A Fishy Scalene Triangle? A Trout Dodecahedron? Can we please leave RINGS to the Onions (and to Sonic the Hedgehog)?

There were some great vegetarian options and there would occasionally be dishes which were made “especially for vegetarians”. However, as the week grew on, the chefs’ ideas dwindled and on three individual nights they had: Corn. Pumpkin. And my favourite, Peas.  Yep. Just a plate of peas. Yum. Exactly what I wanted. A whole plate full of exclusively peas.

Peas: they are like the shit version of Skittles.

The resort has an infestation of children. There were so many children on holiday! (Well I mean  with their parents- it would exceptionally weird if they just booked the flights for themselves).

I booked during school times so I would avoid the children, but APPARENTLY some parents don’t love their children enough to keep them in school. No, they would rather get a cheaper holiday than for their 4 year-old daughter to learn about shapes. That is valuable time which their children will never get back. Those parents make me sick. In twenty years’ time, the girl who missed her Year 1 Geometry week, fails the interview to her dream job because she missed that critical week of school. She may have a PhD in Astrophysics, but she can’t tell a square from a circle. I entirely blame this 4 year old child for feeding me the Calamari-Onion Ring. These parents need to think about they are doing.

But it was jarring to be around kids, as a student's lifestyle doesn’t permit you to be around kids (unless you are a creepy student). It is a twilight zone where none of your social peers have kids, so I do not interact with many kids. And rightly so- they are a right pain in the arse. Mostly.  

I thought students were loud with their blaring music, their raving nights and the Laddish chanting in public places (if you do this – EVERYONE HATES YOU.) But children are on another level of loud. They question everything profusely and inanely and consistently scream from the top of their lungs about ice cream. I mean I do exactly the same- but it’s different.

But I realised that I did not have it as bad as their parents did. As a parent, to go abroad with your children is not a holiday - instead it is a military operation. A futile mission held together with nothing more than severe luck, tears and just tolerating your kids.
Parents get such a bad deal: you have to spend all of your TIME and your MONEY on the people that you love. How unfair is that? You can’t leave. You have to endure being surrounded by people who unconditionally love you- for a whole week. Why would anyone want that?

The Brace position from the Airplane was adopted with every parent throughout their whole holiday.

On holiday, parents aren’t human- they are soulless husks whom are imprisoned in a sunny three star resort on a Spanish Island. And their children keep them imprisoned with their Ice-Cream stained hands, whilst absorbing their parents’ happiness, ambitions and disposable income.

By the way, I don’t hate children. But equally, I don’t get what Paedophiles see in them.