I kept circling back to the world’s worst air disaster…

We arrived in Santa Cruz de Tenerife without plans or reservations for a tour… the only thing that appealed to me was riding around on large motorized trikes but that was only available if we landed at the southern end of the island (we were on the north).

We saw nothing that related to the disaster at their airport in 1977 – I was 11 when it occurred but given we’d fly home to London on the Queen of the Skies, I was familiar with the layout of the two 747s involved. I have clear memories of reading about it in the papers at the time.

But enough about the depressing stuff, we’re on holiday! It was a Sunday in a port in a seriously Catholic neck o’ the woods, and most places were showing they’d be closed… but with two cruise ships in port, we were hoping perhaps the almighty Euro would convince the shopkeepers God wouldn’t mind too much.

Well, they weren’t THAT religious, I guess…

There weren’t any tours that appealed to us, so we decided to hoof it and see where that got us in Santa Cruz de Tenerife, the capital. To help with this endeavor, we used GPS My City (no, I do NOT take endorsements from any entity… it’s just the one we use).

It gave use a couple of walking tours, so we could see some of the sights, and gave us some insights on what we were looking at.

If only it wasn’t so fond up uphill…

Off we went. Couldn’t find the statue commemorating the loss of Admiral Nelson’s arm… wanted to spot it for my father, who was a huge fan.

Personally, I’m not as impressed with Lord Nelson. I think he was a bit stupid, but my dad’s probably shifting around in his urn as I write this. (Sorry, Daddy…)

I mean, he was offed at the Battle of Trafalgar (Nelson, not my dad) mostly because he insisted on wearing giant medals paying homage to himself. He was so sparkly in the light, he had a freakin’ homing beacon on his chest.

No wonder a French sniper was able to target him marching up and down the deck on HMS Victory. (A sniper with a musket rifle, but a sniper nonetheless… three hours after he was hit, Lord Nelson kicked it.)

But Trafalgar was later. At Tenerife, the nitwit hopped out of his landing boat with his sword already drawn. Seriously? What was he gonna do, stab a fish?

Nope, but I bet that shiny sword attracted attention. A Spaniard shot his arm off.

It was humerus. (Sorry, sorry, I had to say it…)

So his men stuffed him back in the boat and took him back to the ship where they amputated his arm above the elbow. His only comment: “The instruments were cold.”

Typical Brit.

Not only that, Nelson lost an eye while trying to invade Corsica – debris from a shot fired by the French blinded him. Always one to turn lemons into limoncello, and having a somewhat unfortunate tendency to ignore orders, he used this disability during the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801.

Nelson was given the order to discontinue action against the enemy (and of course, in those days communication was via flags flown off the ships). His Lordship raised his telescope to his injured eye and remarked “I really do not see the signal.”

Hence the saying “turning a blind eye” to something.

And, of course, the Limeys triumphed in that particular battle (and again in 1806). Three cheers for the man who kept having bits lopped off while at sea.

After he died at Trafalgar, he got pickled as they transported the body back to London… in a cask of brandy. Disturbingly enough, they had to have armed guards around it 24 hours during the journey – probably because they’d run outta booze thanks to not burying him at sea.

Aaaaar… one last toast to the Admiral, eh?

Ew.

God, I wandered off with that one, sorry. How much trivia can one take?

Back to Tenerife.

They have beautiful gardens, but they also have some weird-ass art.

Loos were not plentiful in Tenerife… you had to purchase something to use the facilities. I gained a pound due to needing to piddle. McDonald’s to the rescue with their 70 euro cent pastries. The girl at the counter rolled her eyes as we decided to split one but gave us the change and the receipt with the code number for the potties.

We didn’t see anything startling in Santa Cruz, and it was a bit hot, so we found a hypermarket and bought sodas (tragically, not enough) and carted them back to the ship.