I’ve notice sometimes with sunrises and sunsets, that whilst we’re focused on the scarlet ball on the horizon, sometimes amazing reflections happen elsewhere, like the grass the other week. Thursday morning it was the mountains which were basking in the early glow. I have no doubt I missed the best, and didn’t have a good enough lens to get a nice snap, but just to give you an idea of the environment. Yep – know the “little boxes” spoil it…..that said, how about living there??? ………..did skip home with Pete Seeger ringing in my ears, though!
And just to prove that this isn’t paradise, these cute little birds (which I think are sanderlings, but I’m hopeless at identifying birds, so would be grateful for a proper id if anyone knows, please?) were breakfasting along the shoreline, and I crept slowly and silently as close as I could, when some great, clod-hopping iggit clumping along scattered them. No thought for the birds, or for me who was clearly trying to photograph them…….see we have our share of numbskulls here too!
One of the reasons I love El Médano is that people watching (numbskulls apart) is so much more fun than it is in the resorts. Here people are, actually, doing something, and not just shuffling along the promenade, or letting it all hang out on a sunbed. Even early there were quite a few runners and joggers around, as well as the usual variety of dog walkers, and I sat for several minutes watching a skin diver as he backed himself into the waves, and then disappeared, long fins waving in his wake. Every morning I see a guy I call Tai Chi guy, gracefully greeting the new day from the rocky outcrop overlooking the beach, and I pass cyclists, and several elderly couples who do their own version of power walking.
Out there, on the ocean, and only specks on the photos there was a tall ship to stir the imagination and dream about, and a small fishing skiff, hauling up cages to check if they’d caught any pulpo overnight, as well as one or two yachts.
Full of good humor (despite the clod-hopper) I scooted down to Los Cristianos to collect my mail before all the parking spaces within reasonable walking distance of the Post Office were taken. At the back of my mind was a breakfast of croissant and coffee at the French Bakery to prolong my mellow mood, and, indeed, I sat and ordered as I gleefully tore open packages (a jiffy bag of Kendal Mint Cake from my dad, and a book from a friend :=)). Then the choking, acrid smell of cigarettes wafted across. Even outdoors it was revolting, so I changed my order to to go, and trotted across to the little park place where I used to eat my lunch when I worked in Los Cristianos. There I was greeted by the yucky smell of dog poo, so I carried on back to my car. It’s a tribute to the bakery, that even sulking, not-that-comfortable, and glowering in my car, the croissant, which melted in my mouth all buttery and light, brightened my mood again. Paradise lost. Paradise regained – kind of.
I was out on the roof terrace again around 5 pm when it occurred to me that maybe the sunset might equal the sunrise, and how nice it would be to bookend my day that way, so I took myself down to Los Cristianos again, to where I remembered my great sunsets from last year, and settled down amongst the pebbles to wait. In coastal areas we were on yellow alert (and on high ground on orange) as a huge weather system was closing in on us. You can see the storm clouds hugging the horizon and spiralling over the harbor of Los Cristianos as dusk fell in the last picture.
It turned out to be not so bad. Clearly some rain had fallen here overnight, and the wind rattled my blinds and woke me once, but nothing major, neither did the tv, nor reports from friends on other parts of the island, indicate anything much overnight. Worse is predicted for Sunday, so we may see a white Christmas on the mountain peaks. Living near the airport, even if you don’t listen to weather reports, you know when bad weather is on its way. First, you get the clear views of Gran Canaria, like yesterday morning; then you notice the planes as they glide effortlessly in to land instead of roaring up and away on take off, that means the prevalent winds have changed; if you have a dog like Trixy you notice her sniffing the air when you go out in the morning, sensing a change in the wind-bourne scents only she can smell. Few people really mind the storms here in the south, so long as no major damage or fatalities occur, as they bring a respite from heat and dust. A good downpour and the hillsides which are now desert scrub after a long summer’s heat, spring to green life, as dormant seeds and roots are nourished. So, we wait to see what the weekend brings.