I’ve been up to Vilaflor exploring its Alpine beauty and discovering just how exceedingly sticky its Canarian Pine trees are.
In a scene worthy of Laurel and Hardy, I found myself with bits of soggy tissue stuck to pine resin on four fingers, two patches on my skirt and the bottom of my handbag; not an auspicious start to the day.
With a pine fresh smell in my nostrils and ‘The Sound of Music’ going round my head, I traverse Vilaflor’s flower-lined streets to discover its prettiest parts and its penchant for dressing religious figures in Barbie party skirts…
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