The Antidote to Falling out of Love with Tenerife

The sad truth is that I fell out of love with Tenerife in June 2011. But I didn’t realise I’d fallen out of love with the place…until it charmed me back again.

Saying I’d fallen out of love with Tenerife is a bit misleading. Whatever happens in the future, Tenerife will always hold a special place. It wasn’t the island I was tired with, it was some of the people who inhabit it.

I can trace the problem back to our trip to Costa Brava in early May. There we met professional, forward looking and ethical people who put themselves second to what was best for the location they were promoting.

It highlighted for me that this isn’t always the case on Tenerife. On returning to the island this growing dissatisfaction with how things and businesses are run here was added to by an unfortunate sequence of experiences. The sad thing about Tenerife is that I now expect a lack of knowledge and professionalism…and I’m rarely disappointed. There are examples of business practices here that would be laughed out of any serious business in the more savvy parts of Europe. People who don’t turn up for appointments or worse, bugger off somewhere when they’ve made an appointment don’t appear big or important to me. They come across as unprofessional and incompetent. Busking doesn’t make me think they’re knowledgeable and flashing bling doesn’t impress it merely makes me think that the person hasn’t a clue about what they’re talking about and that they’re crass.

When you’re used to dealing with highly professional people, as we were before we moved to Tenerife, dealing with people who employ the business tactics above is just depressing as hell. So, after an unusual run of experiences related to the above, by the middle of June I was well and truly hacked off with the place.

There’s a story super video blogger Diego Pons told me recently about sheep standing in the way of the Transcantábrico luxury train in Asturias. The train driver blared his horn but the sheep didn’t move. He hit the horn again and again, but still they stood on the track, their blank eyes staring at the oncoming train until it ploughed straight into them. They were too dumb to move out of the way of what was inevitable. Sometimes business dealings on Tenerife remind me of those sheep.

But then came the week beginning with the 23rd June. And what happened that week swept all the buskers and bling brigade under the carpet.

A sultry night in Santa Cruz listening to wild man Andy J. Forest growl his way through spicy Louisiana blues whilst swigging from can after can of beer, playing a harmonica and what looked like my mother’s washing board as well as entertaining us with tales of nonsense brought me back. Santa Blues reminded me what I’d been dealing with over the previous few weeks wasn’t the real Tenerife.

The next morning I dragged myself out of bed to watch goatherds and caballeros from the Orotava Valley drag their livestock kicking and screaming into the harbour waters of Puerto de la Cruz.

The following evening at a music festival I stood beside an old fort at Playa Jardín as the sun illuminated Mount Teide. It was a sight that caused one of the performers at the European Music Day concert to gasp and proclaim it was the most beautiful setting for a concert she’d seen.

A day later I was at my neighbour’s Moroccan barbecue with people who were the antithesis of those who’d caused me to fall out of love with Tenerife; a Canarian teacher from La Camella with her two talented sons; one of whom was a musician/painter the other a marine biologist with his charming wife. They were smart, witty, interesting and interested and despite their obvious talents possessed absolutely no airs and graces.

A few days after that I was strolling the streets of La Laguna admiring the Corpus Christi flower carpets when a girl engaged me in conversation because I was photographing her friend’s alfombra. We debated (me poorly as it was in Spanish) whether La Orotava’s or La Laguna’s flower carpets were the best whilst people around us ooh’d and aah’d at the displays. I’m never completely comfortable talking in Spanish, but I felt more comfortable on that old street than I had during the first part of the month when most of the dealings had been in my own language.

By the end of the week these experiences reminded me why I feel so passionate about Tenerife. The antidote to falling out of love with Tenerife had been to dive deep into the real Tenerife once again and completely cleanse my body and soul of that other place.

An Alternative Tour of Tenerife

There was a Martin Scorsese film in the mid 80s where a computer programmer picks up a girl and subsequently experiences quite the maddest and most bizarre New York night. Friends visiting from La Gomera have just lived the Tenerife version.

It started very early yesterday morning with a flickering battery light on La Gomera that Gordo insisted wasn’t a problem.

Switch to mid afternoon somewhere on La Laguna’s back streets and Jo (the friend who we stay with when visiting La Gomera) and her neighbours (from across the other side of the valley) Gordo and Ushi are standing beside a broken down car full of goodies purchased in Leroy Merlin, Decathlon and Al Campo.

The three were on Tenerife to buy skylight windows for Jo’s house and whereas Jo visits Tenerife a lot and knows it well, for Gordo and Ushi it was their first trip north. They’d had an extremely successful shopping trip, purchasing everything they’d been after plus a load more (shopping on La Gomera is limited)…and then the car broke down in the middle of nowhere and the Gomeran trio experienced a true alternative taste of Tenerife.

The Good Samaritan
As they pushed the car to the side of the road a Lagunero stopped and asked if he could help. Gordo told him he thought it was the battery and the Lagunero opened the bonnet of his car and tried to start Gordos car using jump leads, but with no luck. After that he attempted to charge the battery from his and whilst this was going on suggested they decamp to the nearest bar where he insisted on buying the beers.
Unfortunately the battery didn’t recharge and the Lagunero even went as far as removing the battery from his car to check if the battery really was the problem – it wasn’t. The car was kaput and they didn’t know even where they were.

A quick phone call to the insurance company came up with the name of a local Grua who luckily the Lagunero knew. A short time later and the Grua driver – another sweet man according to Jo – had hooked up the car and was on his way to the nearest Ford dealer with Jo and Ushi in the cab, leaving Gordo to phone for a taxi.

Despite telling the local taxi company the name of the street he was on Gordo was unable to make them understand where he was, so he elicited the help of a passer-bye.

“We’re near Bar Tabaiba,” the passer-bye told the taxi company.
“Ah, why didn’t you say so? Now I know where you are,” was the response. “I live on that street.”
Even though he lived on the street, the controller only recognised it by the name of the bar. Brilliant.

A taxi arrived within minutes and they reached the Ford garage at 4.50pm; ten minutes before it was due to shut. A mechanic took a quick look and told Gordo they’d have to check the car out properly in the morning and that they’d phone him back then.

So at 5pm on a Thursday evening Gordo, Ushi and Jo found themselves in deepest industrial La Laguna wondering what to do next.

The Drunken Magician
They decided to catch a taxi to the north airport and hire a car. Seemed logical…except for one small detail. When they got to the airport they discovered that not one of the five hire companies at the airport had a car available.

A decision was made to take refuge in the airport bar and call us. We’d been expecting them at around 6pm and were on the banana road walking the dogs when the plea for help came through.

Twenty Five minutes later I turned up at the airport as Gordo had ordered another beer, including one for me, to find that they had acquired an addition; a quietly drunk magician from Berlin who to me looked more like a business commuter, albeit a slightly scruffy one, than a magician.

As Andy pointed out later what did I expect a magician to be wearing when he was travelling; a cloak with stars on it?

The magician was on his way to Las Vegas via Playa de las Américas and somehow had ended up at the north airport having been robbed of all his money (or had drank it more likely) somewhere else on route. He was so sloshed he couldn’t tell me his name – not a good advert for someone who was supposed to be able to tell your fortune. We finished our beer and left the penniless magician to his fate. When he said a garbled goodbye to Jo he tried to kiss her hand, but was so inebriated that he didn’t manage to actually connect and gave up with a shrug about three inches off target.

As we headed homeward with Mount Teide visible in the clear night sky, the three recounted their day’s experiences. Despite having a mini disaster far from home, they were in great spirits and very philosophical about what had happened. In fact they were overwhelmed with the friendliness and kindness that complete strangers on Tenerife had shown them. The Laguneros had done themselves and Tenerife’s reputation proud. They’d experienced a Tenerife that was muy amable.

As a footnote, at 9.20 this morning Gordo’s phone rang. It was the garage to say that they’d be able to fix the car and Gordo could pick it up later today.

I’ve just deposited them in Puerto de la Cruz . Jo’s going to show them around until they catch the bus to Santa Cruz for another leisurely stroll before it’s time to collect the car and head back to La Gomera full of wondrous tales of adventures on the big island.

The Development of Tenerife, the Long & Winding Road

I’ve driven around Las Américas and Costa Adeje many, many times. But I always take what seemed like incredibly circuitous routes to get anywhere.

Last weekend, after crippling myself on 12 Beaches Boulevard I got the chance to see which route Tenerife’s bus drivers used to travel between Los Cristianos and Fañabe.

We had a look at taxis first but, after noticing that the fare from the centre of Los Cristianos just to the port was €5 I figured that as I’d never paid to get screwed, I wasn’t about to start now.

With a bit of advice from bus route guru Colin Kirby, Andy and I boarded the 417 bound for Guia de Isora. From Los Cristianos to just before San Eugenio the route was pretty straightforward, but it was from there I was really interested. Blow me if the bus driver didn’t take the route I thought that I must have always gotten wrong. To get from one part of Costa Adeje to Fañabe on four wheels you really do have to cross the TF1, go round a couple of roundabouts and re-cross it again.

I’ve always suspected I was missing something, but no – it is actually a complete mystery of road planning. It just doesn’t make any sense and betrays that someone wasn’t exactly looking at the bigger picture when they were developing the area.

As we turned this way and that way on a convoluted route from A to B, La Laguna popped into my head. The reason being that when La Laguna was being developed nearly 5 centuries ago, the grid layout used for the town was revolutionary. It was such a logical and clever layout that many South America cities used it as a blueprint.

This thought occurred to me; is it possible that five centuries ago road planners on Tenerife were smarter and more advanced that they are now?

As an epilogue of sorts, when we crossed into the Fañabe the bus headed back towards PDLA before turning and coming to a halt at a bus stop. It was quite a distance from the hotel, so I advised Andy that we should stay on the bus until it got a bit closer.

My heart fell when the bus, instead of taking the road I thought it would, headed right back across the motorway again in the direction of Guia de Isora, presumably because there was no way to rejoin the motorway from the side I wanted to be on (those pesky road planners again). Thankfully we managed to get off on the other side nearly opposite our hotel, so it wasn’t a disaster and we didn’t end up with an unplanned trip to Guia, but it was a close call.

TENERIFE – WAKE UP AND SMELL THE VIRTUAL COFFEE

I’ve just completed a trawl of the Tenerife council websites to find out what interesting things are happening over the Xmas period so that we can let people know for our Tenerife Matters blog.

And I have to say that by the time I was finished I felt like banging my head against the wall.  We all know that there’s a communications revolution taking place in the big wide world. In the last couple of years the use of social media on the internet has completely changed the way businesses and organisations promote themselves… unless they happen to be on Tenerife.

In two years the way we use the web has changed almost beyond recognition, but some Ayuntamientos (Town Councils) on Tenerife have not only missed the train, they haven’t reached the station yet – they obviously don’t know where the station is, in fact I’m not sure that they know that there even is a station.

The councils which didn’t have websites a couple of years ago still don’t have websites. Those which had had websites as primitive as Guanche drawings on a cave wall, still have primitive websites. There are a couple of councils which had quite decent websites who have changed them – and now they’re worse (Icod de los Vinos, I’m pointing the finger at you here).

To be fair there are towns which do have decent and informative websites, interestingly these are the towns which were historically always the most advanced (La Laguna, La Orotava). But some of the municipalities which attract a lot of tourists have appalling websites (San Miguel and Granadilla) and these, historically let’s say, were not the most advanced and clearly still aren’t.

And then there’s dear old Puerto de la Cruz which for the first few years we lived here didn’t have a website, then did have one during the last couple of years and now doesn’t seem to have one again (nice to see the new council members are ‘getting things moving’).

Christmas is almost upon us and Tenerife’s first tourist town doesn’t have a website to inform visitors of all the wonderful things which are taking place. How smart is that?

This lack of internet savvy might seem quaint and charming at first and part of the Island’s little quirks, but when the bulk of your main GDP comes from tourism and people who live beyond Tenerife’s warm and sunny coastline, it could  also be seen to be unbelievably stupid.

However, if you are unwilling to listen to advice from outside of the family circle, what do you expect? I’ll tell you what you get, though.

Boom and bust, boom and bust, boom and…

Photographing Tenerife – It might be big, but do you know how to use it?

There are two types of people who generally contrive to try to ruin my photographs at fiestas and processions on Tenerife.

The first of these is the ‘press’ photographer. This is the guy with the humongous sized camera which is usually held like an UZI machine gun. He’s also got bags diagonally strewn across his body bandolier fashion and he might even be chewing gum. You just know he thinks that he’s the Rambo of the photographic world.

In his world he’s the only person photographing the event and he patrols the lines getting in the way of everyone else who’s trying to take a photograph.  Despite having a camera lens which is big enough to lay across a ravine in the absence of a fallen tree trunk, he needs to go right up to the face of the person he’s taking the photograph of (possibly a ploy to ruin other’s photographs).
Most of the time he doesn’t actually take any photographs, he just gets in other people’s way; in short he’s an inconsiderate prat. There are always one or two of these types at every event.

Attention seeking behaviour or what?

The other is the amateur who’s left their brain at home. There were a handful of these at the Semana Santa procession last week. These forget that not all events they are watching have been put on for the benefit of tourists. One woman kept wandering into the path of different groups participating in the procession, at one point crossing in front of a brotherhood, causing them to divert around her, to take a photograph of a dog dancing on it’s hind legs (attention seeking little bugger – I also took a photo, albeit from a distance).
Another chubby, effeminate little man stood in the centre of the route with his compact digi-camera poised as rows of hooded marchers passed by him on either side.  He was clearly deluded and believed he was a TV presenter. Every so often he stopped one of them to ask questions. He was really getting on my nerves and I didn’t want every shot to include his flabby frame, so I particularly relished the moment one of the less obliging hoodies bore down on him menacingly and told him to get out of the way.

The worst offenders in this category were a couple from a nation which is infamous for its lack of sartorial elegance. These two were seriously offensively dressed. I’m sure they thought they were trendy, but in truth looked like children’s TV presenters from the seventies; lots of different primary colours, spots and stripes and the dreaded bandanas. They were about twenty yards downwind of me and every time I lined up a shot, a bright spotty abhorrence crept into the edge of the picture. If I moved a foot to the right so did they.
In the fantasy world which exists in my head (the one where I have the bottle to do and say what I really feel), I went up to them and said:

“Piece of advice; if you’re going to go out in public, check the mirror first. There are people here taking photographs for God’s sake.”

Instead, I merely gritted my teeth and moved another foot to the right, no doubt getting in the way of somebody else who at this moment is probably writing a blog moaning about me.

The Silent City – Semana Santa in La Laguna

Plenty of cloak, but no daggers

The city was unusually quiet. Despite the fact that one of the most visually striking processions on Tenerife was due to take place within the hour, the streets were almost deserted. The thought crossed our minds: “Have we got the dates wrong?”

As it happened to be Good Friday, or Viernes Santo as it’s called here, and we were in the ecclesiastical capital of Tenerife, La Laguna, it seemed highly unlikely that we were in the wrong place or possibly even the right place but at the wrong time to witness the most evocative religious processions on Tenerife’s fiesta calendar. But the eerily quiet streets did plant a seed of doubt.
Last year we watched the ‘Silent Procession’ on a bitterly cold night when the wind howled through the city’s perfectly preserved old streets. This year we’d opted to watch the ‘Magna Procession’ for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it takes place at 17.00, so it’s better for photography. Secondly, because it takes place in the afternoon we thought it would have been substantially warmer than La Laguna by night.

Boy did we get that one wrong. Despite there being intermittent breaks in the clouds allowing the sun to occasionally shine through, once again an icy wind was patrolling La Laguna’s old quarter.

As we criss-crossed the streets heading toward the Iglesia de la Concepción I was reminded of the explorer Sir Richard Burton. Nearly 150 years previously he had commented on La Laguna’s streets being devoid of life except for house leeks growing from roof tiles. He had put it down to an outbreak of yellow fever; however I’m not sure he would have noticed much difference today. The house leeks are still there, but this time the Laguneros had probably deserted the city for the beaches of the south.

Just as we were seriously starting to wonder if we really had got the time wrong, a cloaked figure appeared from a side street, his robes billowing in the breeze as he rushed past. We turned a corner and were further reassured to see people lining the streets. There didn’t seem to be as many spectators as in previous years, but that was a plus in terms of finding a good spot for taking photographs. Unfortunately the ‘sunny’ side of the street was facing into the sun, so I chose to stay shivering in the shadowy side of the street for the sake of getting better shots.

At 17.00 on the dot, the iglesia’s bells rang out and the hooded brotherhoods began their solemn parade through the streets. I’m not religious, but there’s something about this particular parade which touches me deeply. I don’t know if it’s the mixed emotions I feel at the sight of the costumes, or the fact that it takes place in deathly silence apart from the sound of chains dragging along the ground and the occasional haunting accompaniment of the sound of Spanish trumpets and a rhythmic drumbeat that conjures up the notion that I’m at a public execution which I suppose in a way, I am.

Some brotherhoods drag full sized wooden crosses

As legions of devout worshippers in pointed hoods filed past I have to admit to a feeling of unease. Through the camera’s eyepiece I seemed to be continually meeting anonymous eyes staring back and, silly though it sounds, it unnerved me. Possibly because I felt as though I was intruding in something that, although it takes place in public, is something very personal.

The youngest members of some of the brotherhoods must only be about three or four years old and yet they already seemed to understand the importance of the day; their expressions matching those of their elders. For the duration of the procession, they neither whinged, nor made a sound. They’d already been indoctrinated into the island’s traditions and will no doubt do the same with their own children when the time comes. It’s hard not to be moved by the overwhelming feeling of family and community that is represented by these age old ceremonies.

The appearance of possibly the most striking image in the procession, barefooted monks whose ankles are shackled together marked the end of the ‘Magna Procession’.

As always it was a remarkable sight to witness and yet it is still one that many visitors completely overlook.

The Mysterious Messages on the Mount

I always enjoy reading Tenerife Tattle’s sugar sachet Spanish snippets to find out what pearls of wisdom are being dispensed along with the café cortados.

I have to admit to sometimes feeling as though I’m missing out. Here in Puerto de la Cruz we don’t have sugar sachets waxing lyrical in Spanish, or any other language for that matter. Clearly our sugar sachets are affiliated to WUSS (Workers Union of Sugar Sachets) and refuse to do anything more than their basic job description (lazy buggers).

However, as we left Puerto on the way to La Laguna today I was reminded that we did have our own version of sugar sachet Spanish and ours is in cinemascope. We’ve got the mysterious message on the mount (aka philosophy from the field).
Someone has planked a long green board against the hillside; on it is a message,  written in big white letters, which changes every few days.
I’m so used to seeing the hoarding with its constantly changing, and sometimes cryptic, messages, that it had become just another part of the scenery.

It keeps us amused for a few kilometres between Puerto and Santa Ursula as we try to figure out what the messages mean and speculate about the mysterious and unseen phantom who is responsible for them.

This week’s message is:

‘EL AMOR NUNCA MUERRE’

Hmmm, I know some people who might contest that one!

Just stick to what you do best.

"Are you 100% sure that's the famous Millenium Drago Tree?"

Ayuntamiento (council) websites on Tenerife can vary enormously in quality…those that actually exist that is.

One that I would have expected to be on the ball, especially in relation to content which would be of interest to visitors, is Arona’s; the municipality which is home to Playa de las Américas, Los Cristianos, Costa del Silencio and Las Galletas.

And sure enough they recently launched a new website aimed specifically at visitors. It’s bright and simple enough to navigate around.

However, I think they could have left out the ‘And Don’t Miss’ page of the Cultural section. When I think of ‘Must See’ locations on Tenerife, Masca, the rock pools of Garachico, the Casas de los Balcones in La Orotava, the Millenium Drago Tree in Icod, Mount Teide and the old town of La Laguna all spring to mind; the Almácigo de Arona – a nine metre mastic tree – doesn’t. And the picture of it didn’t convince me that this was a ‘must see’ that, until this point, I’d never heard about.

Then I noticed the entry titled ‘museums’ which intrigued me, because I couldn’t really think of any museums in Arona offhand. When I had a look through the list, I understood why; none of the museums included were actually located in Arona. They were all in either Santa Cruz, or the north of Tenerife.

These are just me being picky, Andy will eagerly confirm to anyone that’s willing to listen that it’s a bad habit I have, but what did really get me started on my moan about the website was the picture that went with the Corpus Christi entry in ‘Events to Remember’ under the ‘Get to know Arona!’ section. The text is about the flower carpets in Arona Casco and the picture is…from La Orotava.

Now the municipalty of Arona has many ingredients which make it a very attractive destination for holidaymakers, but depth of historic culture isn’t at the top of the list, that’s the north’s domain…stop trying to nick it!

Christmas on Tenerife – The Preparation

We’re not ones for roast dinners, partly because at our ages the price on the waistline is much too high, but mostly because the temperature here, whatever the time of year, isn’t one where you feel the need to stock up on body fat to get through long cold winters. So plates piled high with roasted meats, potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire puddings etc don’t really fit the bill…except at Christmas when we do have a full blown turkey dinner.

A foodie's treasure trove

The Al Campo hypermarket in La Orotava stocks up on turkeys from about a week before Christmas, so no problem with that, but buy it too early and you’ll have a seriously whiffy fridge by Christmas Day. However, although we normally buy our veg at Al Campo, it isn’t the greatest choice or quality. For that you have to go to one of the agricultural markets. This year for a change we decided to take a trip to the market at La Laguna to stock up on veg.

La Laguna, like La Orotava and Garachico, is one of those places on Tenerife which I never tire of visiting. There’s always something interesting to see and the marketplace is no exception.
It’s a bustling hall full of stalls piled high with tiny papa negras (potatoes), beets, courgettes, aubergines, kakis (persimmons), lemons, oranges, pineapples, melons, red and white sweet potatoes and bunches of lettuce and herbs. Then there are the salted fish stalls where great slabs of salted fish are lined up under huge bunches of dried red chillies, or the carnicería stalls where pigs’ heads look down accusingly from shiny butcher’s hooks (I tend not to spend too long looking at that one). My favourite stall is the spice and herb counter where rows of neat wicker bags are filled with mountains of sweet paprika, cumin, long sticks of cinnamon, curry and coriander.

Visiting these markets is more than a shopping experience it’s an assault on the senses. The prices are a bit higher than supermarkets, but it’s worth it for the choice available, the quality and not least, the experience.

A Job Well Done

Every time we’ve visited La Laguna since we moved to Tenerife, the historic Teatro Leal has been undergoing restoration…until now.

As you can see, they’ve done a cracking job of the restoration.