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GUATIZA, LANZAROTE, THURSDAY 14 MARCH 2019Guatiza was a mile or two south of Mala. In the centre of the village, I made a left. After crawling down the narrow lane that zigzagged past the church, I made another left at the next intersection and pulled up in the designated parking area in the gravel, the front garden being wall-to-wall gravel marked out with large stones each sporting a smear of white paint. No one had thought to lay any sort of path to the front door or even a few stepping stones. Rustic. The garden – if that patch of some ten-by-twenty metres could be called a garden – contained a few large cacti and some spiny-leafed plants. No flowers, but the low stone walls were capped with white-painted concrete and the cacti lent a sculptural element. They were nothing like the c
