Like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, Las Teresitas beach is the golden treasure reward at the end of a long walk in the eastern Anaga Mountains.
Teresitas’ palm tree lined, long golden crescent was a very welcome site when we emerge battered, bruised and weary after negotiating the area’s hot, dry vertiginous slopes around Igueste yesterday.
The beach bar was the first stop at just after 16.00 for an essential post walk ice cold beer.
There are debates on Tenerife forums and Tripadvisor at the moment about Tenerife’s best beaches. For me Playa Las Teresitas is the most attractive beach on Tenerife.
Fine golden Saharan sand, palm trees, the Anaga Mountain backdrop, a quaint fishing village at one end, beach bars with good tapas and a beautiful aquamarine lagoon add up to a package that nowhere else on the island can match. It’s not my favourite beach on the island, but I do think it’s the most spectacular looking.
The golden Saharan sand which makes Las Teresitas so attractive is also a downside. The least breeze and you’re sandblasted – and it gets everywhere.
By the time we got prone on the beach it was about 16.30. Las Teresitas was still quite busy with most people crowded around the azure water’s edge. As Andy stretched out on the sand, I had a nosy at what was going on around us. Being a people watcher I love watching the interaction which takes place on beaches and Las Teresitas is a great people watching beach.
Near us a girl in her twenties posed while her boyfriend took photographs – nothing unusual in that on a beach, but her positions were bordering of soft porn. She lay on her back with one thigh raised across the other leg, her hair spread out on the sand and her face toward the camera whilst she traced windmill patterns on the sand with her arms. On the other side a young African boy of about 7 held court in the middle of a circle of friends of about the same age all of whom were completely transfixed. I couldn’t quite make out what he was telling them, but it involved a lot of theatrical hand movements and must have been a bit naughty because when an adult came over, one of the children tapped him on the leg and he shut up pronto.
Behind us, the guy renting out sun beds flirted with a couple of Spanish women who laughed loudly and huskily at his gentle teasing. In the palm trees a couple in their thirties played beach tennis, her returns going seriously astray to the point that I didn’t know why they were bothering. He hit the ball to her, she hit it back – it went way over his head and he had to trudge across the sand to get it and then the sequence started all over again.
Then into the centre of the scene walked the uncoolest man on the beach. He was wearing a blue bandana which was way too small so looked like a tight swimming cap, his shorts were too tight and could easily have been body paint plus they were pulled too high up his waist and he was carrying an Ipod, or possibly, given the rest of his gear, a Sony Walkman. You just know he’d gone for a cool look, but somewhere made a seriously wrong turning.
None of them were particularly out of the ordinary, just snapshots of people relaxing and enjoying beach life and I find it fascinating to watch others. Problem is that sitting up watching others isn’t a good strategy for an even tan. At this point of the summer when all the locals are a gorgeous golden brown colour, my peely wally body looks as though it’s just stepped off the plane from Manchester.