The Dancing Dwarf, Ship on the High Street & Cool Shoes

T, author of the absorbing zephyrliving blog, has a very good point. ‘How can you mention the statue of the dancing dwarf and not include a photograph?’ She asked after I’d rattled on at about dancing dwarves and Chris C’s ship the Santa Maria being parked on the equivalent of La Palma’s high street without actually including any photos of either.

The truth was that the sun went for a ciggie break behind a cloud at the time I was taking photos of both and the results were disappointing.

But T’s right – you can’t talk of dancing dwarves and surreal ships without proving their existence so here’s the evidence.

Dancing...or bursting for the toilet?

"Are you sure those compass readings were accurate?"

Oh… and just for T, here’s a photo of the ‘uber cool shoes’ mentioned in another previous blog.

Okay I realise that nowadays they look like something your granny would slip on to go outside on an icy day but they were cutting edge at the time of purchase – honest.

My cool Schuhs - a bit past their best. I know how they feel.

How to Buy Sunglasses on La Palma

When the plane took off in the howling wind and with the rain monsooning it down how was I to know that it would be clear skies and blinding sunshine when I touched down in Santa Cruz de la Palma 30 minutes later?

The grey and moody weather forecast had meant I hadn’t even bothered to bring any sunglasses and I was left squinting unattractively at everything like Vincent Van Gopher from Deputy Dawg.

As it was only 8.30am none of the shops had opened yet. However, an African hawker was just finishing setting up his stall in a small plaza and, as any visitors to the Canary Islands know, African hawkers generally = sunglasses.

I’d fancied changing to a pair of classic 60s style anyway (not just because George Clooney tends to favour them) so this was as opportune a time as any to pick some up. It also revealed two very different approaches to bartering. Our friend Linda’s (who has clearly been to the RADA school of haggling) and mine.

I chose a suitable looking pair and tried them on. Andy confirmed they looked good (not George Clooney good, maybe more John Belushi Blues Brothers good) so it was just a question of agreeing a price.

“Diez euros,” asked the hawker.

“Hmmm, seems a bit much,” I responded, but without any conviction. I’m crap at bartering and I know it…more importantly so do the vendors I’m bartering with.

Friend Linda adopted a much more imaginative approach to his asking price. Clutching her heart and gasping she staggered backwards, grabbing on to her husband Robert for support.

“Okay,” laughed the hawker. “Eight euros.”

Seemed fine to me, so I paid the man and saved my eyes from being blistered by the sun.

I just wonder how much I’d have gotten them for if Linda had gone one step further and fallen to the ground and then thrown in some convulsions for good measure?

Finding Dwarves and Little Havana in Santa Cruz de La Palma

“The dwarves are philosophical,” The little birdlike woman pointed to her forehead and then launched into a rapid fire tirade of Spanish that made me feel as though she was machine gunning me with words, the majority of which were flying past my ears.

Why oh why did I have to ask about the dwarves?

Luckily a shot of pure amphetamine in Havana (the café not the city) had heightened my senses and I was more tuned in than I deserved to be given that I’d been up since 5am. The waitress in Havana had insisted the amphetamine was black coffee, but I knew differently.

Anyway, by reaching out and grabbing some of the words that were spiralling around my head I learned that I was standing in the oldest shop in Santa Cruz de la Palma; the British and La Palma enjoyed a good relationship that stretched back centuries and that the husband of the woman standing next to me, who was nodding her head at everything being said, was the most famous singer on La Palma.

What I didn’t learn, apart from it being philosophical, was why, every five years during the Bajada de la Virgen celebrations (the last was 2010), there are dancing dwarves in Napoleonic headgear. I know when it was introduced (1905) and by whom, but not why. She might have told me but if so it was amongst the many words that got past me.

I got the impression the little woman would have spent the day bombarding me with stories of La Palma and entertaining though she was, the translator function in my head had long since entered the red danger zone and was about to explode. At the first opportunity I bade her hasta luego and left the shop to stand in the warm sunshine in front of what must be the prettiest row of houses in the Canary Islands; the casas de los balcones.

I’d forgotten how much I liked Santa Cruz de la Palma, it’s a quirky place with a unique character and the sort of colonial architecture found in La Orotava and La Laguna on Tenerife mixed with a slice of downtown Havana and Bourbon Street, New Orleans to add a soupcon of spice.

Restaurants are attractively inviting, bars are intriguing, some featuring artwork that reinforces its Cuban connections and old men smoke home grown hand rolled cigars that they claim are almost as good as the real Havana’s. Its main street is populated by stylish Palmeros dressed to kill from one of the individualistic fashion shops that share street space with barbers and newsagents that look as though they’ve time travelled from the 50s. There are few visitors on the streets and you can spot them instantly; they appear drab compared to the sophisticated locals.

With another four years before the dwarves dance again, the only chance of seeing one was beside the naval museum at one end of the main street. A statue of a dancing dwarf who looks as though he needs the loo might sound surreal…and he is… but the naval museum is equally bizarre as it’s housed inside a full-sized replica of the Santa Maria parked on the street. Whilst the exhibits inside are interesting its real draw for me was the opportunity to come over all Jack Sparrow on its prow.

My encounter with S/C de la Palma’s unofficial tourist guide and a stint on the high seas left me feeling peckish and the Encuentro arepera on the little plaza offered the perfect antidote. Okay, not exactly Cuban as the little deep fried filled cornmeal pancakes dished up in areperas are Venezuelan. But it did add more weight to the feeling that I was sitting in a plaza in South America rather than the Canary Islands.

Like I said La Palma is quirky. Where else could you eat South American street food under the gaze of a dancing dwarf who’s…err dwarfed by the hull of one of Chris Columbus’ ships that just happens to be moored on a main road?

What exactly did that waitress put in my coffee?

No Time to Wallow in the Mire: Tenerife Fires

Woke up on Monday of last week to see a massive smoke cloud billowing into the sky from what looked like the side of the volcano.  First thoughts were, ‘shit, the volcano’s gone up’.However, it turned out to be a massive forest fire in the upper reaches of Los Realejos, a municipality that lies on the other side of the valley from us. It was obvious from the smoke cloud that this fire wasn’t the norm and with temperatures pushing 40 degrees and the Sorroco wind fanning the flames the situation was likely to get worse before it got better. To make matters worse, fires had broken out on three of the surrounding islands and our copters were absent, fighting a blaze on La Palma. 

Fires aren’t strangers to these islands, especially during dry summers, so I expected there were emergency plans ready to be put in place when, rather than if, a ‘big one’ occurred.TV coverage didn’t fill me with faith though, throughout the day images were screened of bushes spontaneously combusting next to yellow uniformed fire-fighters, who seemed to be staring at the flames, unsure of what to do next, but as camera work here can be unbelievably frustrating, it’s possible that the cameraman didn’t figure that shots of fire-fighters actually tackling the fires would be reassuring to viewers. 

As the afternoon progressed, the fire spread despite the return of the helicopters which tried to douse the affected areas by dropping gigantic buckets of water, but by nightfall darkness revealed how terrifying the situation had become. From our terrace, we could see two large areas of the ridge above the valley in flames, the sky a deep orange. The TV reported that the helicopters were unable to continue working after dark, but then came rumours that seem too incredulous to be true, that the fire-fighters on the ground had also ceased fighting the fires after dark. Whatever the truth, by morning the fire was pretty much out of control and had spread westwards, destroying farmland, houses and livestock. A friend in a remote agricultural valley was awakened at four in the morning and told she would have to evacuate as the fire was almost at the head of the valley where she lived.

We put her up for the night and together we spent much of the day watching with dismay as the blaze continued to rage, destroying some of the most beautiful countryside on the island as well as many people’s homes and livelihoods despite the best attempts of fire-fighters, volunteers and helicopters.

By Wednesday the wind subsided, the weather cooled and the fire changed course and headed south west, thankfully for our friend bypassing her valley by a few kilometres, but unfortunately devastating the beauty spot of Masca. As the day progressed it was finally brought under control, or had run its course, depending on who you talk to. 

Local news reported that up to 13,000 people had been evacuated, and up to 15,000 hectares of land destroyed in what was turning out to be the worst ecological disaster to hit these islands for years. As we scoured the internet for some accurate and objective reports about the extent of the fire, we were horrified, but not surprised, by some British press stories which, completely ignoring those who were actually affected by the fires and had turned them into sensational reports about tourism. Headlines such as ‘Tourists Flee Tenerife fires’ conjured up images of tourist grabbing their beach towels and fleeing across the sand with the fire snapping at their feet.  

If you happen to be planning on visiting Tenerife soon and are having second thoughts because of the stories about the fires, don’t worry, no tourist was ever in danger, if they had been, the outcome might have been a bit different; at worse they were merely inconvenienced by not being able to visit some popular beauty spots. The truth is many tourists in major resorts in the south of the island probably didn’t know much about what was happening on the other side of the island, but then reports about the destruction of farmland, ancient forests and livestock wouldn’t sell as many papers.