Tenerife And Lanzarote Added To Travel 'no List' For Tourists

So, you’ve finally cleared your calendar, saved up a few quid, and started daydreaming about sun, sea, and a suspiciously inexpensive sangria. You picture yourself sprawled on a black volcanic beach in Lanzarote, or hiking through the lunar landscape of Mount Teide in Tenerife. Then you check the news and see that both islands have been added to a new travel 'no list' for tourists. Your dream holiday just got cancelled faster than a British barbecue the moment a cloud appears.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Another list? We’ve already got the “do not fly” list, the “red list,” the “amber plus list,” and that mysterious list your sister-in-law keeps of things you borrowed and never returned. This new “no list” feels like the universe’s way of telling us to stop pretending we’re spontaneous. It’s like the travel industry finally said, “Alright, you lot, back to your rainy Friday nights on the sofa.”

The Great Canary Island Soap Opera

Let’s be honest: the Canary Islands have always been the reliable friend who never ghosts you. You know the one—they always show up with a bottle of cheap wine and a good story. Tenerife and Lanzarote are that friend. They’re the easy-going islands where you can eat a paella that’s been microwaved but still tastes like victory because you’re wearing sunglasses.

But now, they’ve been added to this “no list,” and it feels a bit like finding out your favourite local pub has decided to close early just as you finish work. What did we do to deserve this? Did a tourist sneeze on a volcano? Did someone build a sandcastle too aggressively? It’s baffling.

I remember my last trip to Tenerife. I spent three hours trying to find a parking spot in Los Cristianos, which is basically the vehicular equivalent of trying to find a seat on the London Underground during rush hour. And I loved every minute of it. The stress, the honking, the angry locals—it’s all part of the charm. Now that charm is on a naughty step.

What’s On The 'No List' Anyway?

Details are thin, as per usual. It’s like when your mate says, “I’m not inviting Dave because of reasons,” and you never get the full story. Rumour has it the list is about overtourism and environmental strain. So basically, we’ve loved them to death. It’s like hugging a friend so hard you break their ribs. “I love you, Tenerife! Let me share this selfie of me on your volcano. Oh, you’re a national park? Tough.”

I can just picture the local council meeting. Someone in a suit stands up and says, “Right, lads, the British have bought too many inflatable flamingos and left too many empty suncream bottles. It’s time for a ‘no list.’” And everyone nods, because they’re tired of hearing “Another round, please!” at 11 a.m. Fair enough, honestly.

But here’s the kicker: we were already planning our escape. You know that feeling when you’re stuck in a three-hour Zoom meeting about “synergy,” and you secretly Google “flights to Lanzarote.” That’s the feeling. The ‘no list’ is like a cold bucket of water on that daydream. It stings.

Everyday Life Interrupts Again

This is the part where we must think like a normal person. Maybe you were planning to go with your cousin who always loses his passport. Or your mate Steve who drinks eleven pints on the first day and then complains about a “tummy bug.” The ‘no list’ might actually be a blessing in disguise. Think about it. No more watching Steve try to order a full English breakfast at a tapas bar.

Instead, you can now embrace the great British staycation. Picture yourself in a damp caravan in Skegness, wearing three jumpers and eating a sad sandwich while a seagull steals your crisps. Isn’t that just grand? The sun is a myth, the beer is warm, and the WiFi is weaker than my willpower at a buffet. But hey, at least you’re not on a list.

I spoke to my neighbour, Brenda, who was planning her fifth trip to Lanzarote. She said, “I was going to get a new beach towel. Now what?” Brenda, you’ll use that towel to dry your tears in the rain. It’s a cruel world, but we’re in it together.

The Silver Lining (It’s Small, But It’s There)

Perhaps this is a wake-up call. Maybe we need to give the Canary Islands a break. Let the volcanoes rest, let the sand settle, and let the hotel staff have a holiday of their own. They deserve it, especially after dealing with that bloke who tried to pay for a massage with Monopoly money last year. (True story, by the way.)

In the meantime, we can focus on local treasures. Visit your corner shop. That’s a destination. Buy a scratch card. Feel the thrill. The sun might not shine, but you’ll save a fortune on suncream. And you won’t have to explain to your boss why you came back from holiday looking like a boiled lobster.

So, raise a glass of lukewarm tap water to Tenerife and Lanzarote. We’ll see you again, you beautiful, sunny, slightly over-crowded islands. Just not right now. Not while you’re on the naughty step. But when you come back, bring ice. Lots of ice.