International Caitlin Day

On Sunday, we took Caitlin and Bob up to San Mateo for the market. It was threatening rain, but we managed, yet again, to evade it. The place was even more crowded than the week before, possibly because we were a little later getting there. There was a traffic jam coming into town, with people waiting to get into the downtown so they could park as close to the market as possible. We had to wait 15 minutes to turn off into the same municipal lot we’d used the week before, and it’s right at the edge of town. 

San Mateo market: revolting-looking sweets

The main market building, which was closed last time, now has hoarding around it. They must be renovating. The smaller building was much the same, with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. The produce looked as fresh and inviting. We paid more attention this time to the cheese, for which the area is known. There are several artisanal cheese stalls. The plan was to try some of the San Mateo-branded cheese that Karen had read was famous on the island, but that place only had cow cheese. We found another stall that had a newspaper clipping pinned up with a picture of the woman who was behind the counter. The headline was something about it being a fifth-generation cheese maker. She let us try a couple of the goat cheeses, a mild soft one and a stronger-flavoured, hard crumbly one. Both were excellent, both we purchased. 

San Mateo market: our cheese seller

There is a kind of pavilion, a large open-sided, canvas covered area, between the two market buildings, with a stage. Last week there was just canned music playing and a few people sitting around chatting. This time, there were live performers on stage and people dancing. After the market, we wandered into a pretty, older section of the town and sat outside for a coffee before heading back down to Las Vegas. 

San Mateo: coffee near the main square

There was actual sunshine on the terrace when we got home, albeit weak and not for long. We sat outside until the clouds came in. It was too late to do anything else, so we sat around the house for the rest of the day, had nibbles soon after getting back, then a very nice dinner made by Karen later in the evening. Later still, we introduced Bob to Seinfeld, available on Amazon Prime Video, which he had never seen! A little surprisingly to me – because it’s so American, so New York – he liked it.

Our terrace

View of the coast from our terrace

The next day, Caitlin and Bob were anxious to get back to the sunshine down on the coast, so we headed for Playa del Ingles. The weather has been slowly improving, getting milder, if not sunnier, but this day was a backward step. Caitlin took her bathing suit in hopes of being able to dip her toes in the Atlantic, but it was not to be. The sun did come out occasionally, but it was mostly cloudy and got cloudier as the day wore on. It was also very windy near the water. According to the pixel boards, the temperature dropped over the course of the day, from 20C when we arrived to 18C by the time we left. 

Playa del Ingles: the upper promenade

The beach of the English

We walked down to the lower promenade and sat in a bar for a coffee near where Karen and I had sat the week before. Bob researched lunch places online and found one that wasn’t far away that had lots of good reviews on TripAdvisor, in fact was rated the tenth best of three thousand-odd restaurants in Gran Canaria. We had some discussion about the trustworthiness of TripAdvisor ratings (conclusion: not very), but thought we’d take a chance on this place. It was a 15-minute walk away, back up the hill to one of the streets lined with holiday chalets, shops and hotels parallel to the beach. 

It wasn’t a terribly promising-looking place, an open-sided, glass-covered terrace in a little plaza, with shops at the back. The staff all appeared to be northern European. Our waitress turned out to be from Norway, but had been in the Canaries for 18 years, she told us. The food was okay, but it’s hard to believe this is really the tenth best restaurant on the island. I thought the food was maybe fresher than in some places we’ve eaten, and the mains came with a very nice beet salad. When I was paying the waitress at the bar, she mentioned that this had been the coldest February in Gran Canaria in 44 years.

The plan for the rest of the day was to walk down to the Dunes Reserve to show Caitlin and Bob. There was no question of walking in the sand to the beach. The wind was blowing enough grit onto the promenade to make it a little unpleasant. It would have been far worse out in the dunes. There were people walking out there, though, including young boys body surfing down the sandy slopes. It’s such fine sand, it will be in their clothes for months. 

Playa del Ingles, Dunes Reserve

We walked all the way to the end of the Playa del Ingles promenade where it turns up to go around the reserve, golf course and resort development – the interruption to the promenade that took us over 90 minutes to walk around earlier in our stay. 

Playa del Ingles, Dunes Reserve

Caitlin and I had to use the loo so we went into a posh-looking hotel at the top of the walkway. I commented to Bob as we approached it that the trick was to walk in with confidence, without hesitation, as if you belonged there. Unfortunately, Caitlin and Karen who were lagging behind, didn’t hear this. Bob and I both marched past the bell hop manning the door, to whom I smiled and nodded as we went past. When I’d  located the loos and walked back out into the lobby to direct Caitlin and Karen to them, they were stopped at the door, being questioned by the bell hop. I beckoned them forward and they slipped past him. He followed, but didn’t say or do anything when we disappeared into the toilets. 

What could he do, though? Follow us in and roust us? The hotel would no doubt like to prevent non-guests from coming in to use their very nice toilets. There are loos at the Dunes Interpretation Centre 100 meters away but they unaccountably close for the day at 2 pm. Lots of people must come looking for them, find them closed, and do exactly what we did. The young bell hop didn’t quite have the confidence to deny us. It must be difficult for them. They don’t want to take the chance of offending legitimate guests.

We drove back to Las Vegas via the Telde Mercadona and had snacks and more Seinfeld – at Bob’s request – to finish the evening off.

Tuesday, we drove to Cruz de Tejeda for the view, and on to Tejeda for lunch. The clouds were very low as we left. After San Mateo, we were sometimes above them. But they cleared away when we got over to the other side of the central mastif. The drive up seemed slower than when Karen and I had come the week before. We thought, it being a Tuesday, that there would be less traffic and fewer people, but that didn’t seem to be the case. It was Shrove Tuesday, which may be a holiday for locals. It’s traditionally the last day of Carnevale. 

Cruz de Tejeda

In any case, there were just as many people at Cruz de Tejeda – possibly more – taking in the vistas. The views weren’t quite as pretty as the week before, I thought. The sun was out by this point, but the air was hazy. The parking lot was full, with cars clogging the entrances and pulled over on the roadway waiting for spots to come free. We had to park at the side of the road climbing up out of the village and walk back. At the little market, we bought some more of the hard, crumbly goat cheese we’d had from the San Mateo market.

Tejeda: view across valley

By the time we got to Tejeda, the sun was out full, and it was very mild – 16C or 17C. Everything looked even prettier than when we’d come before. The original idea was to eat at the same little restaurant and have the same tapas platter Karen and I had the week before. Caitlin had seen our pictures of it and thought it looked good. But they didn’t like that restaurant because it had no view over the valley. 

Tejeda: restaurant overlooking valley

So while Caitlin and I were in the almond sweets shop stocking up on supplies to satisfy her pregnancy sweet tooth, Bob and Karen chose a restaurant with a sunny table overlooking the valley. The food was good, but a lot more expensive than our little tapas place. We poked around in the village for an hour after a long leisurely lunch, then headed back down the mountain. 

Tejeda

Tejeda

Tejeda

Wednesday was Caitlin’s birthday. When we got up in the morning, the sun was shining brightly, just for her, and it was mild enough to sit sleeveless on the terrace by mid-morning.

Caitlin wanted a plate of pasta for her birthday – Bob, cruel man, denies her pasta at home – and a swim in the ocean. We proposed Las Palmas, which they hadn’t seen yet. The weather, for a change, cooperated.  The forecast for the coast, including Las Palmas, was 20C and sunny all day. And that's what we got.

We drove to the old section at the south end of the city, the Vegueta. The highly-rated Italian restaurant we’d targeted turned out to be closed for a few days. We walked over into Triana and found another place with a table in the sun. Las Palmas has a lot of Italian restaurants. This one, Vai Piano, looks fairly new. It  was pretty decent. Karen said her saltimbuco was the best thing she’d had in a restaurant here. Mine, a breaded veal scallopini, was a bit disappointing. Caitlin had her plate of pasta and seemed pleased with it. Bob had a pretty good-looking pizza. All good – well, except mine.

The waiter was entertaining, a young Parisian Frenchman who spoke very good English. He reminded me a little of Mr. Bean - not his manner or personality, but his face. He was very animated and cheerful. He also, oddly, followed NHL hockey, although he admitted he never watched games, just checked the scores. He even knew that Toronto was doing fairly well this year, and Montreal not so well. He ice skated, he said, but had never played hockey.

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

We drove up to the north end of the city, to a point near where Karen and I had stayed, and walked along the Paseo de las Canteras. What a change from when we’d been here before. It was cold then, and rainy most of the time, and there was hardly anyone about. Now the plae was hopping. Sun bathers and beach volleyball players were out in force. We found a restaurant with a table by the beach. Caitlin went in and used the loo to change into her swimsuit. She and Bob walked down to the water and she did go in, although not without some squealing at the water temperature apparently. She ran in – well, lumbered in probably – and came right back out, she told us, then talked herself into believing it wasn’t all that cold, and went back in again for a little longer. Bob, sensible man, didn’t even bring a bathing suit on this holiday. 

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras: Caitlin preparing to brave the Atlantic

Birthday missions accomplished, we drove home via the Mercadona in Telde, and whiled the evening away eating birthday cake and quaffing champagne Bob had brought from airport Duty Free.

Caitlin and Bob flew back today. We drove them down to the airport in the morning for their noon-hour Ryanair flight. It’s cloudy today, but milder – forecast to go up to 17C here in Las Vegas. We’re determined to drive less in the next few days, just stay put for awhile, maybe do some walks around the village. Saturday is supposed to be a lovely sunny day.