Excerpt from Surviving Paradise
Section I (1998-1999)
Greetings from Paradise
My introduction to the island took me by surprise. After traveling for nineteen hours, the pilot announced our approach over the island. I craned my neck to look out of the window expecting to see palm trees below. Instead, the plane banked into the likes of a barren lunar landscape. From ground level I would later discover it was actually miles of netting covering their cash crops: tomato plants and banana trees.
The drive from the airport took about forty minutes. Dotting the cliffs along a straight and deserted coastline sat pastel colored cinder block houses. Suddenly, as we came out of a curve in the highway, the scenery on the left shifted. As we approached Las Palmas tall, dirty buildings typical of most polluted cities announced our arrival to the capital. For some reason this surprised me, although I don’t know what I’d been expecting. Situated on the right side of the highway, is the port (el Puerto) of Las Palmas. Sailboats, container ships, cruise lines and fishing boats receive their first welcome to the island here. Shortly, this would become the colorful view from my kitchen window.
Having been awake for the past twenty-eight hours, you’d expect I’d be tired enough for a nap but I was overcome with excitement. Once we were deposited at the door of our new apartment I decided to revive myself with a shower not expecting the cascade of ice-cold water that welcomed me.
From then on, our learning curve took off with a quick sprint as we discovered one of the complications of renting in a foreign country, especially when your landlord is family. His brother-in-law, Ricardo, had ten months to take care of a broken hot water heater before our arrival. “You might want to think about putting in an electric hot water heater instead of gas because the valve is broken,” he suggested after we complained. We also moved in to find a broken washing machine and an oven that didn’t work. The stove top had only three tiny burners. Our next discovery would be that you couldn’t just pick up a phone here to track down a repairman. Being just off the boat so to speak, whom would we know to call?
On our first morning in Las Palmas, we awakened to the tune of a lively zarzuela being played by the Air Force band, which just happened to be standing in formation behind our building. His family had neglected to mention the Spanish Air Force maintained a base behind us. The band was practicing for Canaria Day celebrations. Since we were up early, Manolo couldn’t wait to take me for my first experience with eating churros. These are a deep fried version of a crueller twisted into a specific shape, only the dough is much heavier and greasy. I could only eat one.
Over the course of my three-week trial run, his family gave me the Grand Tour of the island, hitting all the usual tourist sites. Called a continent in miniature, Gran Canaria’s varied terrain includes desert, subtropical flora, mountains, and of course, kilometers of beaches. The vast majority of tourists that come to the island are British, German and Norwegian. They usually frequented the southern part of the island at La Playa del Ingles. Manolo’s sister and brother-in-law owned a condo there and rented it out during tourist season.
Unrestrained building had blighted the coast like a fungus along the southern and entire southwestern part of the island. High-rise hotels and condominiums have been stacked on top of each other creating the appearance of a Monopoly board. Overcrowding didn’t seem to bother the Europeans who were used to it. Islanders would tell me as long as the fair-skinned Europeans could go home sunburned they considered their vacation a success. Supposedly, one could tell what day they arrived by the degree of their sunburn.
We arrived on the island in time for the annual Corpus Christi festival in June, which took place in and around the Cathedral in the neighborhood of Triana. Triana and Veguetta comprise the oldest and most historic parts of the city. The day before the festival, teams from various church groups divided the streets around the Cathedral into sections. Each team decorated its portion of the street with elaborate designs made from rose petals, colored sand and whatever else necessary to complete a predetermined over-all pattern. Preparations began in the Parque across the street from the Cathedral the night before. Truckloads of roses were delivered to waiting parishioners who then removed the heads. Their beautiful petals are then used to grace the designs on the streets.
On the day of the festival, the procession began after Mass in the Cathedral. On their shoulders men carried a sterling silver bier with mountains of orchids, roses and other flowers through the doors and onto the street. The bishop, priests and parishioners followed the bier in procession, destroying the artwork as they walked. Poised with my trusty camera I positioned myself exactly opposite the doors of the Cathedral and waited for the perfect shot of the procession as it came through the doors. I had already photographed each of the sand designs up and down the streets. I clicked away in anticipation of a roll full of colorful photos fit for a travelogue. When I got to five frames past where the roll should have ended my heart sank so loud they could hear it in Tafira. Apparently, the film never advanced in the camera after I loaded it earlier in the day. My camera had failed me on another occasion during a daughter’s graduation ceremony several years earlier. Obviously, I didn’t load it correctly then either. At least there would be other Corpus Christi celebrations. However, my daughter would not be graduating high school again.
I’ve been told that the Feast of Corpus Christi was just one of many fiestas they celebrated on the island to honor saints and the Holy family. Other such fiestas honored the Virgin Mary. La Virgen del Pino (Virgin of the Pines) is located in the town of Teror. Legend has it several townspeople witnessed her appearance in a pine tree in front of the Cathedral. No one mentioned if drinking had been involved. Lightning later destroyed the tree. A glass-walled room overlooking the altar of the Cathedral houses the figures of a baby Jesus being held by the Virgin Mary. Petitioners have adorned her with gemstones, jewelry, sterling silver, and other less auspicious offerings such as a soccer ball. Once a year, parishioners removed her from the glass enclosure and placed her near the altar where people gave her monetary donations. A procession of worshipers then carried her statue to the Cathedral in Veguetta, some of them walking the entire 20 miles on their knees. After remaining in the Cathedral in Veguetta for a week, her statue is returned to Teror.
Traveling wasn’t the only thing I did during my first three weeks. Before I left, we lined up Manolo’s doctors, and registered his empadrenada (registration at city hall, establishing that he was now living in Las Palmas). We also registered him with social securidad, making him eligible for free healthcare as a retiree under his sister’s family card. I found the concept of free healthcare mind boggling. Coming from the most powerful and wealthiest country in the world, how could our unaffordable healthcare system be such a national disgrace? I stocked the cupboards and took pictures and measurements to determine what would fit from my house in the States.
When it came time to leave him, I was naturally upset. It was easier for him because he was re-uniting with his family. I on the other hand, had gotten used to being his primary care giver and I worried about leaving him in inexperienced hands.
The house I returned to felt incredibly empty. The clothes he left behind still hung in the closet as though he had just gone out for a walk. The following morning I awakened in a major depression. I suddenly felt the distance between us very keenly and wondered if I had really just spent the past three weeks on the other side of the Atlantic. Realizing the size of the task that faced me I couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. So, I got myself in gear and tackled the first item on my list, getting the house sold and letting go of my ego‘s attachment to things.
During the course of the next four months, I managed to sell my house to a scamming mortgage broker who bilked me out of my equity and the second mortgage I had taken back. I sold all of my designer furniture and decorative accessories for ten cents on the dollar, as well as my beloved Corvette. By the time I left, what remained of my former life was on a ship heading for the unknown.
Greetings from Paradise
My introduction to the island took me by surprise. After traveling for nineteen hours, the pilot announced our approach over the island. I craned my neck to look out of the window expecting to see palm trees below. Instead, the plane banked into the likes of a barren lunar landscape. From ground level I would later discover it was actually miles of netting covering their cash crops: tomato plants and banana trees.
The drive from the airport took about forty minutes. Dotting the cliffs along a straight and deserted coastline sat pastel colored cinder block houses. Suddenly, as we came out of a curve in the highway, the scenery on the left shifted. As we approached Las Palmas tall, dirty buildings typical of most polluted cities announced our arrival to the capital. For some reason this surprised me, although I don’t know what I’d been expecting. Situated on the right side of the highway, is the port (el Puerto) of Las Palmas. Sailboats, container ships, cruise lines and fishing boats receive their first welcome to the island here. Shortly, this would become the colorful view from my kitchen window.
Having been awake for the past twenty-eight hours, you’d expect I’d be tired enough for a nap but I was overcome with excitement. Once we were deposited at the door of our new apartment I decided to revive myself with a shower not expecting the cascade of ice-cold water that welcomed me.
From then on, our learning curve took off with a quick sprint as we discovered one of the complications of renting in a foreign country, especially when your landlord is family. His brother-in-law, Ricardo, had ten months to take care of a broken hot water heater before our arrival. “You might want to think about putting in an electric hot water heater instead of gas because the valve is broken,” he suggested after we complained. We also moved in to find a broken washing machine and an oven that didn’t work. The stove top had only three tiny burners. Our next discovery would be that you couldn’t just pick up a phone here to track down a repairman. Being just off the boat so to speak, whom would we know to call?
On our first morning in Las Palmas, we awakened to the tune of a lively zarzuela being played by the Air Force band, which just happened to be standing in formation behind our building. His family had neglected to mention the Spanish Air Force maintained a base behind us. The band was practicing for Canaria Day celebrations. Since we were up early, Manolo couldn’t wait to take me for my first experience with eating churros. These are a deep fried version of a crueller twisted into a specific shape, only the dough is much heavier and greasy. I could only eat one.
Over the course of my three-week trial run, his family gave me the Grand Tour of the island, hitting all the usual tourist sites. Called a continent in miniature, Gran Canaria’s varied terrain includes desert, subtropical flora, mountains, and of course, kilometers of beaches. The vast majority of tourists that come to the island are British, German and Norwegian. They usually frequented the southern part of the island at La Playa del Ingles. Manolo’s sister and brother-in-law owned a condo there and rented it out during tourist season.
Unrestrained building had blighted the coast like a fungus along the southern and entire southwestern part of the island. High-rise hotels and condominiums have been stacked on top of each other creating the appearance of a Monopoly board. Overcrowding didn’t seem to bother the Europeans who were used to it. Islanders would tell me as long as the fair-skinned Europeans could go home sunburned they considered their vacation a success. Supposedly, one could tell what day they arrived by the degree of their sunburn.
We arrived on the island in time for the annual Corpus Christi festival in June, which took place in and around the Cathedral in the neighborhood of Triana. Triana and Veguetta comprise the oldest and most historic parts of the city. The day before the festival, teams from various church groups divided the streets around the Cathedral into sections. Each team decorated its portion of the street with elaborate designs made from rose petals, colored sand and whatever else necessary to complete a predetermined over-all pattern. Preparations began in the Parque across the street from the Cathedral the night before. Truckloads of roses were delivered to waiting parishioners who then removed the heads. Their beautiful petals are then used to grace the designs on the streets.
On the day of the festival, the procession began after Mass in the Cathedral. On their shoulders men carried a sterling silver bier with mountains of orchids, roses and other flowers through the doors and onto the street. The bishop, priests and parishioners followed the bier in procession, destroying the artwork as they walked. Poised with my trusty camera I positioned myself exactly opposite the doors of the Cathedral and waited for the perfect shot of the procession as it came through the doors. I had already photographed each of the sand designs up and down the streets. I clicked away in anticipation of a roll full of colorful photos fit for a travelogue. When I got to five frames past where the roll should have ended my heart sank so loud they could hear it in Tafira. Apparently, the film never advanced in the camera after I loaded it earlier in the day. My camera had failed me on another occasion during a daughter’s graduation ceremony several years earlier. Obviously, I didn’t load it correctly then either. At least there would be other Corpus Christi celebrations. However, my daughter would not be graduating high school again.
I’ve been told that the Feast of Corpus Christi was just one of many fiestas they celebrated on the island to honor saints and the Holy family. Other such fiestas honored the Virgin Mary. La Virgen del Pino (Virgin of the Pines) is located in the town of Teror. Legend has it several townspeople witnessed her appearance in a pine tree in front of the Cathedral. No one mentioned if drinking had been involved. Lightning later destroyed the tree. A glass-walled room overlooking the altar of the Cathedral houses the figures of a baby Jesus being held by the Virgin Mary. Petitioners have adorned her with gemstones, jewelry, sterling silver, and other less auspicious offerings such as a soccer ball. Once a year, parishioners removed her from the glass enclosure and placed her near the altar where people gave her monetary donations. A procession of worshipers then carried her statue to the Cathedral in Veguetta, some of them walking the entire 20 miles on their knees. After remaining in the Cathedral in Veguetta for a week, her statue is returned to Teror.
Traveling wasn’t the only thing I did during my first three weeks. Before I left, we lined up Manolo’s doctors, and registered his empadrenada (registration at city hall, establishing that he was now living in Las Palmas). We also registered him with social securidad, making him eligible for free healthcare as a retiree under his sister’s family card. I found the concept of free healthcare mind boggling. Coming from the most powerful and wealthiest country in the world, how could our unaffordable healthcare system be such a national disgrace? I stocked the cupboards and took pictures and measurements to determine what would fit from my house in the States.
When it came time to leave him, I was naturally upset. It was easier for him because he was re-uniting with his family. I on the other hand, had gotten used to being his primary care giver and I worried about leaving him in inexperienced hands.
The house I returned to felt incredibly empty. The clothes he left behind still hung in the closet as though he had just gone out for a walk. The following morning I awakened in a major depression. I suddenly felt the distance between us very keenly and wondered if I had really just spent the past three weeks on the other side of the Atlantic. Realizing the size of the task that faced me I couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. So, I got myself in gear and tackled the first item on my list, getting the house sold and letting go of my ego‘s attachment to things.
During the course of the next four months, I managed to sell my house to a scamming mortgage broker who bilked me out of my equity and the second mortgage I had taken back. I sold all of my designer furniture and decorative accessories for ten cents on the dollar, as well as my beloved Corvette. By the time I left, what remained of my former life was on a ship heading for the unknown.