Sun & Rain

We had two brilliant days of sunshine here in Gran Canaria – finally the weather we had been expecting. But then it rained hard again all Tuesday night. We woke to more ceiling leaks. It’s still raining across the ravine now, at 11:30 as I write this – despite sunshine on the terrace and blue sky overhead. The rain is being blown from the other side of the mountain. Karen is sitting on the terrace, staying perfectly dry, she says, even though I can see great sheets of rain blowing past the kitchen window.

Monday was the best day yet in Las Vegas, full sun from morning till evening, temperatures in the high teens. We stayed home, sat on the terrace most of the day, reading and puzzling, then went for a walk around the village in the middle of the afternoon.

Las Vegas, view into ravine at the bottom of our street

We first walked down our street as far as we could go, past some decent-looking houses, but also some ramshackle semi-rural properties with barking dogs. The walking path we’ve taken a couple of times to the ravine and Valsequillo was off to the left. To the right, we saw a sign pointing down a less-well-trodden path to the Caldera de Marteles. So is that what we can see below our terrace, a caldera, a volcanic depression? Or is it just part of the same ravine and the guidepost is saying you can get to the caldera this way?  

Our walk took us on the same route Bob and I had taken on our jog a couple of weeks ago. Karen and I turned back at the same point too, where we could see a closed farm gate ahead. We wondered afterwards, though, if the road actually turned before the gate and kept winding down into the ravine. 

Las Vegas, view up our street

We went back up into the village and along the main street – aka the GC41, the highway we take to get down, or further up the mountain – and then into a residential area on the other side. We had been thinking that Las Vegas was far from the prettiest or wealthiest of villages on the island, but we had that impression partly because we’re living on the wrong side of the tracks apparently. The houses are all newer and better kept on the other side.

Carlos, our ‘host,’ came in the evening with a new microwave. The old one had given up the ghost a few days before – started smoking while I was warming my morning orange. Carlos lives in Valsequillo and looks after the property for its owner, Miguel, who lives we know not where. Carlos was exclaiming again at how unusual the weather has been. ‘We’re not ready for this in the Canary Islands,’ he said a couple of times, referring to the torrential downpours of Sunday. Apparently, it was worse in Maspalomas, the tourist beach town south of here, where we have gone a couple of times to find sun when it was cool and cloudy or rainy here. Carlos played us part of a news video on his phone, showing flooded roads and minimal driving visibility.

Yesterday, Tuesday, was supposed to be cloudy everywhere, but it was lovely and sunny on our terrace in the morning. We had breakfast there and sat reading and puzzling again until lunch time.

It was supposed to be a little warmer in Las Palmas, with less chance of rain, so I proposed a walk along Playa de las Canteras, from south to north. We could park at the south end, on the edge of town, and walk the promenade all the way to Isleta, the bulbous bit at the pointy north end of the city. As it turned out, it stayed sunny all afternoon and the temperature rose. Pixel boards along the beach claimed it was anywhere from 27C to 35C. It felt more like 25, but the sun was intense – certainly warm for the cloudy-day clothes we had worn.

Las Palmas, Auditorio Alfredo Kraus, the symphony hall

Las Palmas, statue of Alfredo Kraus

The beach was the most crowded we’ve seen it. The south end is a surfer hangout, and they were out in force, bobbing in the swell, waiting for waves. We saw a few get up and slalom into shore. From one of the interpretive signs along the beach, we learned a new Spanish word, ‘bughera’ – a boogie boardist. We saw some of them too. And lots of scantily-clad young women, some topless. That was at the south end, where I also spotted some impressive street art, the best I’ve seen yet on the island.

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

As you get further north into the main tourist area, where Karen and I stayed when we first arrived on the island, the promenade is chocker-block with bars, restaurants, hotels, shops. The crowd gets thicker – and older. By the time we got to Isleta, we mostly saw wrinkled northerner geriatrics. We sat at a little bar and had a beer and a wine, then walked back the way we’d come in the late afternoon sun. It was after six by the time we got home.

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Las Palmas, Playa de las Canteras

Wednesday, we drove into Las Palmas again, this time to Vegueta at the south end, to the Casa de Colón, the (Christopher) Columbus House museum. We left Las Vegas with the weird weather I’ve described – bright sun and blue sky overhead, but misty rain blowing in sheets from the mountains. Las Palmas was supposed to be partly cloudy, but was in fact mostly sunny, with temperature in the low 20s. A definite improvement.

The story is that Columbus stopped at Gran Canaria for repairs to one of his ships in 1492 when he was on his way to discover the new world. I thought I had read that there was some question about this, about whether he was ever really here. But the museum includes a facsimile copy of a letter from Chris himself, in which he mentions stopping in Las Palmas, so I’m not sure how there can be any doubt about it.

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

The museum is housed in parts of a couple of buildings constructed some time after Columbus’s time, but in the same location as an earlier building where he was supposed to have stayed when here. It’s an interesting little museum. It tells the story of the voyages, with maps, texts and facsimiles of historic documents. There are large-scale models of the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria.

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum, scale model of Santa Maria

One exhibit tells the story of how the Canaries, because of the favourable ocean currents, later became a regular stopping point for Spanish expeditions heading to the New World. Another talks about how Canarians left home in droves to find their fortunes in South and Central America in the 16th century. Often entire families would uproot themselves. At one point, the Spanish government forbade emigration by Canarians because the islands were being dangerously depopulated.

There are also exhibits about life on board the surprisingly tiny vessels Columbus took to America on that first voyage – the Nina and Pinta, caravels, were only about 21 meters long – and about navigation equipment and the development of cartography at the time. Lots of weirdly wrong maps from ancient times to the early modern era. Columbus, I had forgotten, actually thought he’d reached Asia when he got to America. That was his objective in setting out.

One interesting fact we didn’t know: the reason Portugal has Brazil but nothing else in the Americas is that the Spanish and Portuguese signed a treaty in the 16th century, brokered by the pope, that drew a north-south line cutting through the eastern bulge of South America. Everything west of it would belong to Castile, everything east to Portugal. Present-day Brazil is mostly east of the line. Columbus, an Italian, explored the new world first for the Portuguese, later for Castile. His rich discoveries – not to mention his change of allegiance – naturally led to contention between the two kingdoms.

There are also exhibits on pre-conquest American cultures. Some of the arteficts – most of it is ceramic ware – are reproductions, but some are originals, donated to the museum. Some of the originals date as far back as 500 BC.

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

The best exhibit from a photographic perspective? The pair of live macaws, one blue and yellow, the other mostly red. They sat on perches together, alternately grooming each other – including sticking their beaks up each other’s butts (eew!) – bickering, screaming at the tourists and, very occasionally, sitting still and looking pretty.

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

Las Palmas, Casa de Colón museum

We wandered up the street and discovered that the Centro Atlántico de Arte Moderne that we thought we had seen a few days before actually has multiple locations, all in the same neighbourhood around the cathedral. We had only seen a small part of it. It turns out it was the best part, though. There are two other exhibit spaces on the same street as Casa de Colón, within a few feet of each other. One was closed – for bereavement, they said. The other was open, but contained exhibits by three different artists, none of which interested us in the least.

So we drove home and had a long Skype with Caitlin.

It rained all evening, the same gusts of rain blowing down the ravine as we'd had in the morning before we set out for Las Palmas It rained well into the night too, with gale force winds that made a terrific racket in the house and outside, banging doors and windows, wipping around anything that wasn’t tied down. It blew over one of the metal-framed deck chairs on the terrace.

Today, Thursday, dawned sunny and still. It was the beginning of our wind-down. We leave early the day after tomorrow. It was forecast to be a decent day – sun and cloud, about 17C – and that’s what we got. We spent the morning at home, some of it on the terrace. We went out for a walk around the village a little before one, and stopped for lunch at Guajara, a restaurant Carlos had strongly recommended. He told us it draws people all the way from Las Palmas.

It’s just a couple of blocks down the street from us, a little hole in the wall place with no windows except the patio doors at the front, which give on to the roadway. We thought Carlos might have been exaggerating, trying to drum up business for a neighbour, but it was good – and very meaty, which pleased Karen. They have a huge wood-burning grill at the back. We sat at a table by one of the doors to get some cool air.

Las Vegas, Guajara Restaurant

We started with a very nice white Rioja, perfectly chilled, and ‘artesanal’ bread with lovely garlicky aioli. Karen ordered a mixed salad, which we shared. For mains, she had an entrecote, which was huge, perfectly cooked and, most surprising of all, quite tender. Spanish meat in our experience is rarely very tender. I had something that was translated on the menu as pork cutlet, but seemed to be more like ribs, plus a fat chorizo sausage. The mains came with boiled potatoes, and there was mojo sauce, the moderately spicey pepper-based sauce native to the Canaries. It was all good. Karen took home half her side of beef.

Las Vegas

Late in the day, we went for another short walk around the village. We had been thinking of it as not very attractive, but it does have some appeal. Somewhat belatedly, I started photographing the painted mailboxes on house fronts around the village. Kitsch, but charming. A few examples.

Tomorrow, we pack and rest up for our travel day on Saturday.

More Las Vegas kitsch