I paused for a breather while trudging through Playa Blanca in Lanzarote as my spectacles steamed with perspiration.
It was 26C at midday, so I leaned on a wall to take stock of a new type of holiday souvenir I was collecting.
The wall belonged to a shop and as I blinked through beads of sweat I saw rows of older traditional souvenirs – picture postcards of the island.
My ears pricked up as I heard a Scottish voice passing by. It was a woman clutching pre-departure Covid test certificates, which were still compulsory at that point, for her return journey to Scotland.
And she was cursing Nicola Sturgeon as she passed because the Scottish Government was clinging to these rules for a tad too long.
Covid test certificates were like a different type of holiday postcard
Pre-departure tests were recently scrapped officially, as Ms Sturgeon finally fell into line with the UK – a delay which enraged many in Scotland. Before that, many people, including me, were still scrambling for Covid tests overseas.
These were the new holiday “souvenirs” I was thinking about as I stared at those old postcards.
Pre-departure Covid test certificates were like a different type of holiday postcard, but not the “wish you were here” kind.
You can’t beat the view here at the southern tip of the island, which is the closest the Canaries get to Africa, about 60 miles away.
I was close to waves lapping the harbour front near the junction of Avenida de Papagoya and Avenida Maritima. I made myself more comfy on a low whitewashed wall and gazed out across the straits of La Bocayna, with the outline of sister island Fuerteventura in clear view, six miles away.
Tranquil scene belied shocking pictures from La Palma
Endurance swimmers compete across these straits, which somehow inspired me to trudge on.
The tranquil scene belied shocking pictures from the La Palma volcanic eruption a few hundred miles away.
The view up the street was framed by souvenir shops, but rival walk-in Covid test centres were competing with each other for tourists, too. I visited four in quick succession.
The first was a big sprawling place, displaying a huge red cross on the third floor of a shopping centre. There was no lift, but a brutally steep set of stairs – impossible for my wife who desperately awaits a hip operation.
Testing time finding centre that was just right
We spotted another much smaller centre at ground level, operating out of what looked like a hole in the wall. The staff here were quick to hoover up stragglers like us.
I moved onto a German clinic, but was quickly put off. As a medic explained everything outside in a heavy German accent, we were engulfed by clouds of smoke because she kept pausing to draw deeply on a cigarette.
An image swam into my mind of her stubbing out a cigarette and, with the same fingers, shoving swabs up my nose and down my throat.
At some point we have to face the big bad wolf, armed with vaccinations – and not be kept under lock and key forever by the medical and governing establishment.
But salvation was around the corner: I finally found another test centre I actually liked. Bizarrely, this was because it looked like a dental practice: clean and clinical with a woman at reception in a reassuring nursing-style uniform.
Furnished with the all-important application documents I needed to fill in for a test, I returned to the resort.
Soon afterwards, Ms Sturgeon’s volte-face was announced and I was elated, but many others with earlier flights were still stressing up to the last few days.
Slamming on the brakes for Covid rule flouters
Meanwhile, I even had time to pick up another new holiday souvenir – a thick ear.
A refreshing thing about Lanzarote folk is that they don’t tolerate Covid rule miscreants lightly.
Twice I entered the same supermarket without a mask: it was simply being absentminded rather than deliberately flouting rules here. They were onto me in a flash and I was angrily bawled out in public by staff.
Shocked and humiliated, I jumped to attention like a small boy pounced on by a teacher in a playground and pulled my mask on pronto.
I told a sympathetic barman about it later and he explained they were hot on this type of thing: bus drivers were known for slamming on the brakes if passengers were not masked up.
I wondered how this would work back home. It wouldn’t, of course, because bus drivers and shop staff would fear being attacked.
People in other parts of Europe seem to have a respectful safety valve which allows them to pick others up out of a sense of civic duty, and it’s accepted by the offending party.
There is an old saying about not doing things by halves. This is a major weakness of supposedly being able to fly freely and yet not – and imposing rules which people ignore.
At some point we have to face the big bad wolf, armed with vaccinations – and not be kept under lock and key forever by the medical and governing establishment.
David Knight is the long-serving former deputy editor of The Press and Journal
