New year's here in Lanzarote is a little different to that in northern Europe. Here I recount an experience from one of our early days on the island, living in Arrecife:
As usual, we had celebrated Christmas day on the beach at Arrieta with a barbecue and a swim, and we were looking forward to King’s Day (6th January), which is when the Spanish children receive their presents. It was New Year’s Eve and we decided we would celebrate in style now we were in “The Cityâ€. We had learned that everything happens much later in Spain, so our plan was to have a really nice meal and head out into town, with the kids, at around 11PM. Having received Jamie Oliver´s latest cook book as a present, we decided we would cook a carpachio of beef for the family. Everyone really enjoyed the meal, which we served with shavings of fresh parmesan, a huge salad and a mustard dressing, and we then put on some fairly smart clothes and headed for the main night spots along the seafront.
As we walked, it gradually began to dawn on me that there was something wrong. Instead of the expected hoards of partying revellers, there was an eerie silence over the whole city and every bar was closed. It was like a ghost town, the only sound coming from behind closed doors, where the scrape of knives and forks suggested everyone was at home enjoying a meal. As midnight approached, I became frantic at the thought of wishing each other a happy new year without even a bottle of water for a toast. We finally found a single place open, La Cevezeria, the only really tourist bar in Arrecife, and we sat down with a few German and British tourists to see the new year in. The staff made a token effort, giving out party hats and treats and we waited for the blaring television to begin the countdown. I was despondent, having been convinced that this would be a new year’s to remember, but smiled and kissed along with everyone else. And then the most amazing thing happened – seconds after midnight had struck, lights went on, all the bars opened, and out of every apartment building and house people, in full evening wear, burst onto the streets. This was all accompanied by a magnificent firework display. From being a damp squib, the party turned into one of our best ever. We walked round to Goa later, and spent a fabulous few hours with Martin and Yenise, staying up until 4.30AM. They explained that the tradition is for everybody to enjoy a meal with their families until midnight, when everyone eats the traditional 12 grapes as the chimes strike, and then the party begins. We felt decidedly underdressed that first night, but we have learnt our lesson well, and now we follow the traditional approach to new year’s with all our friends.
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