Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Through the Tunnel of Time and into the House of Dreams: A Trip to the Canary Islands
The four days we spent in La Gomera, a small island the Canaries, passed like a slow, sweet and constantly fulfilling dream. Perhaps of all of the trips that I have done over the last six months of my life, this one has left the most moving impression and has given me the most space to reflect on life and its daily, weekly, and yearly meanings. As I was sitting on the volcanically black beach, looking out across the deep blue ocean and the colorful rowboats dotting the little bay on our last day in La Gomera, I thought to myself that if I died today, I would die having lived, seen, met and experienced things that most people never see in their entire lives. I can’t even begin to count my blessings when it comes to how lucky I have been and how much I have gotten to live. It has all been so intense and so full.
We left Malaga early on Thursday morning and boarded our Vuelin flight for Tenerife North. After reading a Pablo Neruda poem on the plane, we both fell softly asleep and were awakened from our catnap by an incredible landscape down beneath. The view from the airplane revealed the black cliffs shooting up from the Earth, the ocean beating up against them. Mount Teide, the highest peak in Spain, showed its snowcapped tip as the plane slid into the runway. We took a bus directly from the airport to an old town called La Laguna and spent a couple of hours wandering its cobblestone streets, admiring its colorful buildings and taking pictures of the beautiful wooden balconies that are typical to the area. We had a lovely makeshift picnic on a stone bench in the sun, with trees surrounding us and city pigeons pecking at our feet. As resourceful as we’ve learned to be in our travels when it comes to food, we ate a nutritious meal of bread, cheese, tuna fish, red peppers and cucumbers. Soon after we got on a tram that took us to Santa Cruz, a big port city, where we had a cup of coffee and then took a bus to the ferry that would carry us to our island – La Gomera. The ferry glided through the Atlantic Ocean as the sun was setting in the horizon. We went out on the deck to take pictures of the setting sun and the rising moon and as we were standing there with the warm wind blowing against us, we spotted several dolphins lazily jumping in and out of the water along the path of the ferry.
When the ferry docked, we disembarked and were warmly welcomed to the small town of San Sebastian by Vivian and Pablo, our hosts in La Gomera. Vivian, a tiny woman with short brown hair that she spikes all around with gel, is a young painter from Costa Rica. She moved to La Gomera three years ago to be with Pablo, her husband who is a native of Gran Canaria but has been living in La Gomera for the last seven years. He works for the Ministry of the Environment and is a serious environmentalist, nature-lover and an example of a most gentle human being where the word “tree hugger” fits perfectly. The moment we met them we felt at peace, safe and at home. They drove us to their little house, which is a little bit outside of town, in the hills of La Gomera. In the darkness of the night we couldn’t yet see the stunning surroundings, but the shadows of the mountains suggested a spectacular view in the morning. Vivian showed us around their little house, while Pablo prepared the evening’s dinner. The house had an undeniable element of magic to it. It was an old, square building, with old wooden doors and windows that were painted a striking blue. Everything else was a beautiful white. Sheer white curtains divided the room that Andrew and I slept in and the gentle breeze blew the other curtains warmly into the room. They had a perfect collection of books and music and played whimsical Costa Rican and Spanish tunes as they prepared the meal. Andrew and I explored the garden behind where they harvested their own vegetables and had a plethora of exotic plant species. A narrow, stone staircase led to the top of the house where a stone terrace looked out across the valley and the surrounding mountains.
Vivian called to us and said that dinner was almost ready. A soft rap on the door and in came their friend Pancho, a bearded man, who brought wine and laughed a lot throughout the night. Pancho, a native of La Gomera, has been a long-time friend of Pablo’s. It was Pancho who traveled to Costa Rica with Pablo the first time he met Vivian. After only spending several days with Vivian, Pablo and Pancho left to go back to his Islands on the other side of the world. But Vivian didn’t leave Pablo’s mind. He returned to Costa Rica to visit her once again and then invited her to visit him in the Canaries afterwards. That’s when he asked her to marry him. And she said yes. And she left her country, her family, her entire life to be with this special man. She said all she needed to be happy is to be with him, and to be able to paint. She said she would die if she couldn’t paint.
She made a vegetarian Costa Rican rice dish and a delicious avocado salad that night. We drank glasses of wine and afterwards ate from a tub of ice cream that Pancho had brought. We talked about politics, the United States, Spain, history. The bonds were already forming. We made plans for the next couple of days of our stay in La Gomera – walking.
The next morning we woke up to a simply lovely breakfast in their little kitchen: Costa Rican coffee, bananas picked from the surrounding banana trees, bread and cheese. After eating a wholesome meal together we headed out on our first hike in La Gomera. The island was stunning at first sight in the daylight. We drove along a winding, narrow road and parked our car on the side of the dry, arid road. The first trek began. The scenery was stunning. The power of words may not suffice in describing it, nor the power of photography. The landscape was dry and arid in some places, and then endlessly green in others. The body of the land was a series of valleys and mountains and we traversed at least three that day. We walked, and walked, and walked for six or seven hours. Along the way we planted two palm trees that we promised to come back and visit in thirty years, we stopped in abandoned old stone houses and found remains of people who’d visited it before us, we dug up an unfamiliar root and ate it (it tasted like radishes, but looked like potatoes). We finally arrived to La Cabrita, a tiny beach that’s only accessible by foot and by boat and we realized that the sun was quickly setting. The boat to San Sebastian had only room for three of us, so Pablo and Andrew continued on by foot and Vivian and I got on the little boat and took it back to San Sebastian. That evening, once we were all reunited, tired from walking and wholeheartedly spent, we went out to the local Chinese restaurant and replenished our bodies with good, warm food. My sleep that night was epically sound and my dreams profound.
The next morning a similarly simple yet beautiful breakfast awoke us and we ate together, planning our day again. This time we’d explore the islands internal national park – Garajonay – one of the world’s most unique forests. Pancho joined us on the hike that day. We went in two cars, leaving one at the top and one at the bottom so we could hike up towards the highest peak. We passed through what the locals call “El tunel de tiempo,” (the tunnel of time) and instantly the tunnel lived up to its name. The temperature dropped at least 10 or 12 degrees Celsius on the other side of the tunnel. It was a completely different environment than the day before. Everything was intensely green, and so wet. They call it horizontal rainfall, where the trees absorb water from the clouds and a light mist sprays everywhere constantly; a stark contrast to the rest of the island’s arid climate. Garajonay was absolutely spectacular. We hiked another four or so hours and saw incredible tree species, plants and birds. At the end of the hike the rain started to fall even harder and we hid ourselves in the warmth of a little restaurant where we tried typical Canary food, full of spices and eclectic flavors.
That evening Andrew and I made dinner for our wonderful hosts in a small effort to say thank you for all that they’d done for us. We made pizza with all the toppings in the world and a big salad. They loved the food and we spent the evening playing a fun game. I didn’t want to go to sleep that night knowing that it’d be my last night in this magical house where dreams are born and remembered and tranquility oozes from the crevices in the walls.
Another simply beautiful breakfast the next morning, after which we packed up our bags and loaded them in the car. We still had the entire day to spend on La Gomera and Pablo suggested we take a driving tour of the entire island, so we could see the sides we hadn’t yet gotten to see. We got in the car and with beautiful tunes playing on the radio we circled the island, slowly stopping along the way to see cliffs, waterfalls, beaches, valleys and rock structures. We ended on the lower west side where we stopped to go to a small beach and bathe in the ocean. It was cold, but fresh. The sand was hot, the sun was pleasant, and the day was perfect. I didn’t want to wake up from what felt like a dream. We had a pleasant lunch in a little café by the water and then got back in the car to head for the port where our boat would be leaving from soon. The goodbye was truly sad. In such a short time, we’d bonded so much with these two beautiful strangers. They expressed their wishes for us to have stayed longer, and we wished more than anything that we could too. A deep friendship was formed…one that I will never forget.
They accompanied us to the ship, we said our final goodbyes, and Andrew and I boarded the big boat. The sun had already set and we floated back to the big island in the dark. What a magical weekend.
We left Malaga early on Thursday morning and boarded our Vuelin flight for Tenerife North. After reading a Pablo Neruda poem on the plane, we both fell softly asleep and were awakened from our catnap by an incredible landscape down beneath. The view from the airplane revealed the black cliffs shooting up from the Earth, the ocean beating up against them. Mount Teide, the highest peak in Spain, showed its snowcapped tip as the plane slid into the runway. We took a bus directly from the airport to an old town called La Laguna and spent a couple of hours wandering its cobblestone streets, admiring its colorful buildings and taking pictures of the beautiful wooden balconies that are typical to the area. We had a lovely makeshift picnic on a stone bench in the sun, with trees surrounding us and city pigeons pecking at our feet. As resourceful as we’ve learned to be in our travels when it comes to food, we ate a nutritious meal of bread, cheese, tuna fish, red peppers and cucumbers. Soon after we got on a tram that took us to Santa Cruz, a big port city, where we had a cup of coffee and then took a bus to the ferry that would carry us to our island – La Gomera. The ferry glided through the Atlantic Ocean as the sun was setting in the horizon. We went out on the deck to take pictures of the setting sun and the rising moon and as we were standing there with the warm wind blowing against us, we spotted several dolphins lazily jumping in and out of the water along the path of the ferry.
When the ferry docked, we disembarked and were warmly welcomed to the small town of San Sebastian by Vivian and Pablo, our hosts in La Gomera. Vivian, a tiny woman with short brown hair that she spikes all around with gel, is a young painter from Costa Rica. She moved to La Gomera three years ago to be with Pablo, her husband who is a native of Gran Canaria but has been living in La Gomera for the last seven years. He works for the Ministry of the Environment and is a serious environmentalist, nature-lover and an example of a most gentle human being where the word “tree hugger” fits perfectly. The moment we met them we felt at peace, safe and at home. They drove us to their little house, which is a little bit outside of town, in the hills of La Gomera. In the darkness of the night we couldn’t yet see the stunning surroundings, but the shadows of the mountains suggested a spectacular view in the morning. Vivian showed us around their little house, while Pablo prepared the evening’s dinner. The house had an undeniable element of magic to it. It was an old, square building, with old wooden doors and windows that were painted a striking blue. Everything else was a beautiful white. Sheer white curtains divided the room that Andrew and I slept in and the gentle breeze blew the other curtains warmly into the room. They had a perfect collection of books and music and played whimsical Costa Rican and Spanish tunes as they prepared the meal. Andrew and I explored the garden behind where they harvested their own vegetables and had a plethora of exotic plant species. A narrow, stone staircase led to the top of the house where a stone terrace looked out across the valley and the surrounding mountains.
Vivian called to us and said that dinner was almost ready. A soft rap on the door and in came their friend Pancho, a bearded man, who brought wine and laughed a lot throughout the night. Pancho, a native of La Gomera, has been a long-time friend of Pablo’s. It was Pancho who traveled to Costa Rica with Pablo the first time he met Vivian. After only spending several days with Vivian, Pablo and Pancho left to go back to his Islands on the other side of the world. But Vivian didn’t leave Pablo’s mind. He returned to Costa Rica to visit her once again and then invited her to visit him in the Canaries afterwards. That’s when he asked her to marry him. And she said yes. And she left her country, her family, her entire life to be with this special man. She said all she needed to be happy is to be with him, and to be able to paint. She said she would die if she couldn’t paint.
She made a vegetarian Costa Rican rice dish and a delicious avocado salad that night. We drank glasses of wine and afterwards ate from a tub of ice cream that Pancho had brought. We talked about politics, the United States, Spain, history. The bonds were already forming. We made plans for the next couple of days of our stay in La Gomera – walking.
The next morning we woke up to a simply lovely breakfast in their little kitchen: Costa Rican coffee, bananas picked from the surrounding banana trees, bread and cheese. After eating a wholesome meal together we headed out on our first hike in La Gomera. The island was stunning at first sight in the daylight. We drove along a winding, narrow road and parked our car on the side of the dry, arid road. The first trek began. The scenery was stunning. The power of words may not suffice in describing it, nor the power of photography. The landscape was dry and arid in some places, and then endlessly green in others. The body of the land was a series of valleys and mountains and we traversed at least three that day. We walked, and walked, and walked for six or seven hours. Along the way we planted two palm trees that we promised to come back and visit in thirty years, we stopped in abandoned old stone houses and found remains of people who’d visited it before us, we dug up an unfamiliar root and ate it (it tasted like radishes, but looked like potatoes). We finally arrived to La Cabrita, a tiny beach that’s only accessible by foot and by boat and we realized that the sun was quickly setting. The boat to San Sebastian had only room for three of us, so Pablo and Andrew continued on by foot and Vivian and I got on the little boat and took it back to San Sebastian. That evening, once we were all reunited, tired from walking and wholeheartedly spent, we went out to the local Chinese restaurant and replenished our bodies with good, warm food. My sleep that night was epically sound and my dreams profound.
The next morning a similarly simple yet beautiful breakfast awoke us and we ate together, planning our day again. This time we’d explore the islands internal national park – Garajonay – one of the world’s most unique forests. Pancho joined us on the hike that day. We went in two cars, leaving one at the top and one at the bottom so we could hike up towards the highest peak. We passed through what the locals call “El tunel de tiempo,” (the tunnel of time) and instantly the tunnel lived up to its name. The temperature dropped at least 10 or 12 degrees Celsius on the other side of the tunnel. It was a completely different environment than the day before. Everything was intensely green, and so wet. They call it horizontal rainfall, where the trees absorb water from the clouds and a light mist sprays everywhere constantly; a stark contrast to the rest of the island’s arid climate. Garajonay was absolutely spectacular. We hiked another four or so hours and saw incredible tree species, plants and birds. At the end of the hike the rain started to fall even harder and we hid ourselves in the warmth of a little restaurant where we tried typical Canary food, full of spices and eclectic flavors.
That evening Andrew and I made dinner for our wonderful hosts in a small effort to say thank you for all that they’d done for us. We made pizza with all the toppings in the world and a big salad. They loved the food and we spent the evening playing a fun game. I didn’t want to go to sleep that night knowing that it’d be my last night in this magical house where dreams are born and remembered and tranquility oozes from the crevices in the walls.
Another simply beautiful breakfast the next morning, after which we packed up our bags and loaded them in the car. We still had the entire day to spend on La Gomera and Pablo suggested we take a driving tour of the entire island, so we could see the sides we hadn’t yet gotten to see. We got in the car and with beautiful tunes playing on the radio we circled the island, slowly stopping along the way to see cliffs, waterfalls, beaches, valleys and rock structures. We ended on the lower west side where we stopped to go to a small beach and bathe in the ocean. It was cold, but fresh. The sand was hot, the sun was pleasant, and the day was perfect. I didn’t want to wake up from what felt like a dream. We had a pleasant lunch in a little café by the water and then got back in the car to head for the port where our boat would be leaving from soon. The goodbye was truly sad. In such a short time, we’d bonded so much with these two beautiful strangers. They expressed their wishes for us to have stayed longer, and we wished more than anything that we could too. A deep friendship was formed…one that I will never forget.
They accompanied us to the ship, we said our final goodbyes, and Andrew and I boarded the big boat. The sun had already set and we floated back to the big island in the dark. What a magical weekend.
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