Bag shopping and baby swimming: learning to take it easy

Moan, moan, moan. Or that’s what it feels like – with my whingeing about lack of sleep and travelling through airport security with a baby and you might be excused for wondering if the naysayers had a point when they told me I’d have to cut back on travel. But but but – our first holiday has been a lot of fun too.

After settling into our villa and getting over the flight, adapting to the heat and rigging up a cunning improvised strap to dangle Dwayne the pink dragon (there’s a reason for the name!) from in lieu of a proper playmat, we were ready to keep enjoying the holiday.

And while Arrecife had been fun, we didn’t have to venture far. On the Wednesday, our third full day, we headed to the seafront at Playa Blanca again to walk towards the twice-weekly market at Marina Rubicon, the even posher end of the resort. Assuming you count yachts and designer clothes as posh, obviously.

The walk itself is half the enjoyment, with Fuerteventura on the horizon, the sun glinting on the sea, two parrots living in a bird table partway along for no obvious explicable reason.

After a while, the string of bars and souvenir shops thins out, and as Minnie promptly fell asleep under one of my much-loved Cuski muslins (not too hot in the sun, just toasty enough to keep her warm in the sea breeze), I could enjoy the sound of the surf.

The marina itself seems bigger than I remembered, but still not exactly vast – a cobbly area with shops, restaurants and bars, plus the market stalls set up in the open space behind.

There’s jewellery galore, much using local black volcanic rock, plus the other things you tend to find at markets – clothes you’d never in a million years wear at home, sunglasses, soap (there’s always soap. I don’t know why) and, of course, bags.

Now, I don’t love bags in the same way as shoes. And I certainly don’t need a new one, given that I only ever seem to wander round with a change bag.

But when I found one which met my exacting demands of zips, pockets, quirky design and proper straps, I found myself handing over my Euros and celebrating with a glass of local Yaiza rose outside one of the bars, before Minnie enjoyed her own drink.

Flushed with success (and wine) we ambled back to the villa to eat chorizo and cheese in the sun, before hitting the pool.

The heat of the day was over, although I slathered Minnie in SPF50 anyway, and dressed her in her Happy Nappy and babywrap – like a little neoprene jacket – then took the plunge into the unheated pool.

Despite an initial wide-eyed grumble at the temperature, we had a relaxed splash, I tried to remember all the things we practised at baby swimming and generally had fun in front of the mildly amused audience. In retrospect, given how well it had been going, I probably shouldn’t have decided to practise submerging her…

All in all, a few yells were a small price to pay. She dropped off to sleep and I had a smile back on my face.

One thing this first trip has taught me is to take things a bit easier. I’ve never been someone to lounge around on a lounger for days on end (besides, travelling with Minnie means I can hardly lounge around chilling out any more anyway. Sigh.) but I’ve realised I can’t pack my days full.

A busy day for me is an exhausting one for her. Even a half day out is pretty tiring for a four-month-old, however many catnaps she fits in. And if she’s tired, she’s miserable – and I have to cope with the fallout.

That’s not to say I want every day jam-packed with museums, sights, trips, tours and so on. I remember overhearing one couple on an airport bus to Venice talking about their punishing planned itinerary which seemed to try to take in every single church in the city. And there are A LOT. 

I’d rather set aside time to see a few things than rush round 20, coming home with a rather tired, blurred recollection.

We’d had a quiet day at the villa before our trip to Timanfaya, but needed another one afterwards when Minnie didn’t seem her usual cheerful self, followed by just a short drive to the west coast village of El Golfo, a small string of whitewashed buildings overlooking the sea.

The village seems to be practically a single street and half made up of fish restaurants – we’d seen Restaurante Placido recommended, and ended up going back several times.

Right on the seafront, we could watch the breakers crashing onto the black rocks, the sound lulling Minnie to sleep, and waiters who were happy for us to feed her before we got round to ordering ourselves.

Especially when our meal consisted of some fantastic seafood (a whole grilled squid, lusciously plump mussels, fish galore and a wonderful seafood paella) and I’d have eaten there every day if I could. And you know the fish couldn’t be much fresher when you see it being gutted right on the shore.

Because sometimes the highlights of a holiday including watching the world go by from a cafe.

Travel lesson learned: Don’t overplan the itinerary – some days, a walk, a shop, a swim is more than enough to tackle with a baby.

Main image courtesy Depositphotos, all others copyright MummyTravels

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