Lanzarote

After that, the evening went downhill. We went across the road to visit Jameos del Agua, which is part of an open wedge in the lava flow that collected water and formed a little lake. There are tiny, white crabs that look like dandruff flakes spattered around in the lake. It's been built up to be very commercial. There's a restaurant and a bar and a pool (all designed by that artist guy, Manrique). There's also a concert hall. It probably is quite beautiful, but we had a bad experience. We got there at 6:15pm, it was supposed to close at 6:30pm. We asked the guy if it was still open and he said "si." So we shelled out the equivalent of almost $20 and went in. Everything was closed. No one was around except for workers. We walked around, looked at it, saw there wasn't anything to do and went back to ask for our money back, since there was obviously nothing much to do and it really was closed. The guy refused to give us our money back. He refused to even try to understand us. He just pretended that he didn't speak English and we had to leave without getting any sort of refund. Which reminds me. I'm supposed to write them a nasty letter.
After that aggravating episode, (that's the pool in the place that Michael is lying in front of), we headed off to find our hotel for the night. Which took us 2 1/2 hours to find. It was in this big resort town and we found out we had to pay cash and then there was no soap and the reception desk closed at 10pm (we got there about 9:30pm). We went out for dinner and found this pretty yukky, Americanized restaurant. Blech. The next morning we didn't get the wake up call we ordered and barely made it to our flight off the island.