Vacation on Gran Canary Island, Playa de Ingles

Get ready for boarding and take a flight. The trip starts at Nuremberg airport. First a short flight to Dusseldorf and then with a larger plane to Gran Canary Island. From there with the taxi to the apartment (hotel).

Once we have arrived I'd like to welcome you to the report of my vacation travel this year, 2012, to Gran Canary Island, Playa des Ingles.

Sit down on this bench at the ocean, listen to the waves and relax.

Both sand sculptures I saw on the day I hiked through the dunes from my apartment hotel to the lighthouse. The artist sat close by watching for donations and spraying the sculptures with water from the orange insecticide tank you can see on the second photo. And, yes, she did remove money from the red cardboard ever so often.

Faro lighthouse, Maspalomas - too tall and pier too short to get it  on one photo straight.

View from the balcony of the apartment down to the beach on the 3rd day. The clouds didn't make it much cooler. But the waves were fantastic - high enough for body surfing.

View from the beach back to the apartment hotel - right behind that tall tree.

 And although the promenade with the restaurants was only about 10m away - there was a kiosk for cool drinks at ice cream 5m away.

waves at Faro - stone beach as a gigantic wave some years ago took most of the sand away there

Sunrise was all that I could take photos from the sun - the apartment looked south-east.

On the first morning - later sunrise time than in Germany. 

After about a week "calima" set it -- that fine dust that looks like fog. 

But still the beach was full of people. Many, too many were "fried"  a deep dark red. Some even had blisters on the skin from too much direct sun. And still they kept going to lay in the sun all day - unprotected. 

I avoided the sun from 11.00 to about 15.00 and even then used high sunscreen lotions - and didn't get one burn; just a little tan. 

During the midday hours was the time to visit the supermarkets - small shopping centers close to the hotels. With a nice layout and park like feature (3 different locations, photos only from one):

Walking there was no problem - no cars on the wall above the beach part. All for joggers and leisurely walkers and those that only wanted to go to the beach (down about 1200 steps at least at various places in the wall):

 Some hotels along that walk way have a "cactus garden":

The park like entry to one of the shopping markets:

The entry to the "CITA" (a different one than the one above) with copies of European sightseeing highlights:

There I met her, one of the many cats:

Such blue eyes!!

Yes, food (aka restaurants and snack bars) is the most important thing for the tourists - next to the souvenir shops:

 But - with the economic crisis and lack of interest for keeping things in shape (tourists come here for over 40 years now) many corners of the supermarkets looked like this:

Empty stores and sale-outs for a few Euros in most of the markets. All nightclubs and discos had closed too - music and dancing was done only at the beach promenade. Yes, things have changed a lot since the hype of tourism. 

I also spend a day at Palmitos Park - that will be another post (soooo many plants and animals deserve their own post).

Lastly, I want to give you a few impressions of the apartment hotel and the cats that lived there:

cactus garden (in miniature)

a Zen fountain 

Sara - 4 years old. The only real "house cat", living living and being taken care of and "belonging" to the hotel complex. 

All other cats are only "allowed" to be around but are wild.

rear exit 

walk way to the apartments

view of pool area

I hope you enjoyed your travel, for more photos check the album on G+: Gran Canaria 2012

I will be adding a few more there once I've checked (and maybe processed) all that I have made.

Use at own risk!

It was cold. Not freezing, icy cold. But cold enough to feel the pain of it in his body. And to numb his mind.

And it was dark. Not pitch black dark. From somewhere some light illuminated the area around him enough to make out faint lines. He estimated the place he was in to be about four square meters. His back was propped up to a wall of some sort.

With his mind so numb, he found it hard to recall how he got here. Where he had been before he woke up just now in this cold, dark place, half sitting. Was he sitting? His body felt odd. Not quite his and with an awfully aching back and resistance in his legs when he wanted to stretch them fully.

With reawakening awareness, the cold feeling left him. His mind was starting to be more active too. He had to find out where he was. He turned his head, but there was not enough light to see where he was. So instead, he moved his hands slowly behind his back to feel the wall. To his surprise the wall was soft - not hard as his aching back told him.

Soft, and warm, and... furry. Yes, that was the word, furry. He must be leaning on an animal. And with the dark all around he concluded that he was in a cave?? Of a bear?? He took a careful deep breath. Yes, could be a bear from the size - and the smell. Yes, bears smell that way. He knew that from one of his students jobs at the zoo; cleaning out the ice bear cage. The bears had been outside in the pool at that time. The head animal caretaker had made sure of that. No one knew how the ice bear would react to a stranger inside his territory. All assumed it would attack any stranger. This memory made him feel afraid for his own life right now. Very afraid!!

Carefully, as not to wake what he assumed to be an ice bear now, he once more tried to stretch his body. Again he noticed how odd his legs felt. Not the way they should. His whole body didn't feel as it should. Slowly, he moved his hands away from the furry back wall and onto his own belly. It felt furry too. He couldn't remember putting on a fur coat. He lifted the hands of his belly and moved them a little closer towards his eyes. In the dark he could barely make out the silhouette of them. But those were not hands, not human hands!! They were PAWS. Bear paws seemingly and when he touched one with the other he could notice the soft for on them and the sharp claws that were at the place where he had expected his fingertips to be.

Not believing what he could feel of his hands, he bit by bit felt over his body what he could reach. All of it felt like bear now. And he was not feeling as cold as he had been when he first woke. Actually it was quite snugly warm in here. A tiny smile hushed over his face and vanished as fast as it had come as he turned back to investigate more. He moved very slowly, afraid he would wake the "bear" he was leaning on and be discovered. Afraid of what might happen then.

When he reached his face he stopped in shock. That was not his head. Not at all!! It was the head of a bear!! The snout, the cold nuzzle, the sharp teeth the ears some place else than he was used too. Involuntary he let out a small sound. This could not be true. Not at all.

Before he could investigate further, the "wall" behind him moved - pushing him over the land on his, yes, PAWS. And with a soft push on his behind the being past him and opened up an opening into bright, blinding light.

Slowly his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see the outside. All was white - snow and ice. And fresh air wafted in. This made him move, following, what he now could definitively recognize as ice bear, into the open. Crawling on all four, not walking on his legs. He just could not get up and walk as a human would. He was in full disbelieve of what he was but could not actively change his "outside". "Inside", in his mind (and soul too he guessed) he still knew to be human. he always had been human. Not a bear.

Right outside the cave he took a deep breath of the fresh icy air. And, after a soft nudge on the shoulder from the ice bear, walked clumsily, more crawling like in the cave, a few steps more to an opening in the ice where the ice bear stood waiting for him, behind toward him. The ice bear never had taken one look at him, as if he was not a stranger to it. Calm water greeted him from the opening; the sun reflecting on the surface. And the ice bear too.

NO!! THIS CAN'T BE TRUE!!

It was TWO ice bears starring back at him out of the water. A big one and a small one. And no human. Where was the human image, his image!!??

Suddenly, and with shock and realization he recalled and understood the warning:

Long Distance Transporter.

Out of order!

Use at own risk!!

Can you write a myth today?

Myths are an interesting thing. 

They narrate about strange happenings from a time long forgotten. No one really knows anymore what actually happened. But it must have been something so strikingly different than normal daily life that it has been handed down over many generations.

Some of these myths are about catastrophic events. About earthquakes, floods and other natural phenomena. So vast, that they were affecting the whole world. And are now "known" world wide too.

A few centuries ago scientist and thinkers mused over what truth lies behind the myths, making bold statements. Now a "modern" author, Rens Van Der Sluijs, has summed up all these with his own ideas to them.

Catastrophism in the Humanities - a Low down - Part one
Catastrophism in the Humanities - a Low down - Part two

I observed, that news, that get reported and remembered, are mainly those that are out of the ordinary. Things normal are forgotten easily and neglected. 

It is not only bad things, though, that are being remembered this way. Not only catastrophic events but also the too good to be true things are being remembered longer. 

There is the common phrase of the "good, old times" when everything was so much better than it is now. Not because it really was, but because the "bad" parts, that are similar to the ones now, have been forgotten. They have been there all the time so they did not get remembered - only the outstanding good things, those that were not everyday experiences.

What will be remembered about our time, the era we live in now? 

Will there be a myth about worldwide connections and friendships without ever having met the other for real? [social networks as example] 

Of making money from things that do not even exist as material things? [example here could be the "Wall Street"] 

Or will it be remembered as a time of war and hardship for most and luxury for some? 

Or a time of natural catastrophes that are "only" regional but still had impact on people far away through the media that connects them worldwide; with some then actually physically helping those affected and many just giving money (to help - or calm the conscience) but actually wanting to ignore that it had happened at all and will never happen or affect them.

Or will there be nothing to be remembered at all? An era that will be forgotten completely? A blank page in the overall history of humanity. Maybe there are some outstanding "discoveries" in the field of science, medicine or exceptional things done in art to remember. But assuming a long, long time has past (thousands of generations): what of these will be left? What stories, that could become myths, will be handed down over generations? What will remain in the common memory of all? 

Maybe we should write and tell stories to our children and grandchildren about things that we deem important to be remembered. Not about us, our "mundane" daily life. No.

Stories about all the great discoveries and inventions and other happenings that had an effect on our world, the way we live. And about the dangerous things we have "created": nuclear weapons, oil spills, damaged ecosystems to name a few. And how we went about, once we realized those dangers, to eliminate them.

For a "better" world to live in. 

A world we "remember" as it can be like.

In 2009 I have self-published my first story, a small book. I received a comment on it then that said the story is "out of time": it could have been way back in the past, now, or play in the future. Like a myth. 

I did not really understand it that way when writing. I was just bringing to paper (computer) the images and emotions that were buried so deep inside me. Maybe it's just that "common" memory that surfaced. Maybe there is more to it.

Here is the free link to the PDF file of this story:

Journey_MichaFire

Yes, it's free! I want to share this little book. I'm on the lucky side of life that I do not have to earn a living with writing.

I hope you enjoy reading it. And sharing it to the people that mean a lot to you; those that you trust.

Solan - a whole life in one picture

Dream about Solan - a sketch done right after waking up

Sometimes when you wake up from a dream all you remember is an image and a name. And emotions. Strong emotions. And some sort of memory that is the background to the image. Something that makes you remember it even after years as strong as it was that time you woke up from it.


For me it was like this with this image and name. On waking up I had sketched the image that was still in my mind with all the details I could recall. Then, as I am lucky enough to have access to the internet, I searched for the name as I remembered it. And some derivations of it too. Just in case I had not recalled it right.


I did find some interesting things about "Solan":
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solan - a town in India - founded in 1972.
And "Solana" is a female name: 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solana - Spanish; but also the name of areas/towns in Philippines, Spain and USA - the meaning is associated with "on the sunny side" or "sunshine".
Just as "Solon" is a male name.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solon - an ancient (BC) Greek "reformer" and poet for (his) pleasure.


All this had something to do with what I remembered - but it didn't not fit all of it. So, after all these years (nearly five actually) I decided to finally write down my version of Solan. It might all be just fictional.

SOLAN 

My name is Solan. 

I am still a girl, and I have a twin brother. No other brothers or sisters live with us right now.

Our house is full with people during the day. They do not live with us. Some are servants that take care of the house and garden. Some are workers on our property that surrounds our house and the fields close by.

And some come to ask my father for advice and plead him to judge in difficult situations. Like two men fighting over the border of two neighbouring fields. Or some possessions. 

Once they even asked him to decide who has the right to take a certain woman into his household. They both wanted her. Contrary to our tradition, my father let the woman decide where she wanted to live. And she decided to have no man at all and live all alone. That caused an uproar in our village; it was feared that all women would decide now where they wanted to live. But it did not happen. The only change from that day on was, that now parents first asked the girl and the boy if they would appreciate to found a household together before it was decided. My mother does the same for the females of the village. But not as often; women don't seem to quarrel so much or are able to settle differences between themselves.

My brother and me are privileged children in our village. Not that we really care about it. It just happens that our father has this position of being the highest ranked man in the area. And thus all the people coming at daytimes. We two prefer to play with all other children of the village with no differences. The places we most often go to is the little harbour down at the ocean and the little wooded areas in the hills close to the village.

But many of the children in our age do not have the time for play anymore. They have to help their parents in the daily work in the house, on the fields and some even on the fishing boats. I do help in the house and garden when I want to. Like my brother does like to help on the fields or sometimes even goes with the others for fishing. But we are not expected to these things as daily chores like most of the other children. We are free to do what pleases us. But of course, never be in the way when our parents do their work. We may be there and listen (and learn from them). One day, so our parents told us, we are expected to take over their position in the village.

And this is what I do not really like. Usually, the first-born male inherits the position of the father. If that one is not capable of it or dies before, the honor of the position goes to the next born male. Now my father has a slightly different view on this. He thinks that any first-born, if capable, will inherit. That would be me. My mother wants him to stick to the tradition; he thinks that all are equal and have equal rights. They do quarrel about it sometimes at night. 

Then this sad day came. My brother decided to go with one of the fishermen. Not just for a day or a week out for fishing. No, this man was an adventurer and wanted to sail along the coast for a longer time. To visit some further away places to trade with. Nothing unusual. It happened every year during this season; the weather pleasant, most field work and harvesting done and the sea calm enough for it. 

My parents took some days to decide. In the end they thought my brother to be old enough (and strong and healthy), and the man trustworthy, to go on this journey. I had asked for it too. Connected to my twin brother as I was, sharing everything, I did not want him to go alone. I wanted to be with him. But my parents wouldn't let me. I was a girl, not a fisherman or seafarer. That was surely not a work for a woman. I thought it not fair, but I couldn't do anything against it. So my brother left us with a big grin on his face, a small bundle in his hand and his heart full of expectation about all the adventures he would have.

I stayed back, crying, waving him a goodbye as if I would never see him again. My mother tried to calm me. She too felt sad at him leaving and joyous the same time for all the experiences he would have. My father wasn't as pleased with it. He had planned to start teaching us about our future work at being in the highest position in the village. 

This was the moment I had captured in the drawing. The father sitting at the table with a strategic game (chess) he had played with the children until it was time for the boy to leave. And yes, I had felt it to be in India, tiled floors, colorful flat-roofed houses and the clothing reflecting this a little.

Now, you might wonder what became of Solan and her brother? I will tell you:

From the next day on, I had to sit and listen when my father had to give advice and do judging. And in the evenings he told me a lot about the history of our village, our country and about the world as he knew it. It was very interesting and I learned a lot. Also why he thought everyone to be equal and should be treated that way. A view so different from the traditions he had to follow. But he managed it and I learned to understand how he did it. 

Still, I wished he had allowed me to go with my brother on that journey too. I felt equal to my brother. He said I'm better suited to become his follower than my brother. I felt honored by this but also a little sad at being "forced" to take on a role and position that I did not freely choose.

My mother too started teaching me more than before. There were days I wished I was still a few years younger and just could run off to play with my friends. But, even if I would do it, there would hardly be anyone around most of the time. It's not easy to grow up. Most of all, I missed my brother.

We did not hear from him for a long time. It took the ship over a year to return. Longer than the usual time. When it finally did my brother was not on it. The man responsible told us that my brother had preferred to stay in a far away country. To learn their ways of leadership and guidance of people in their responsibility. My father was astonished and pleased at the same time. Yes, he thought that this way new ideas will come to our village. And he thought that it would be good for us. He felt proud of his son to want to learn this way and these things although he wasn't supposed to be the one taking his position.

My mother though was upset. He had not yet learned our ways. She feared that he would adapt to the different ways without reflection. And she missed him as much as I did. She only did not show it as open. 

A few years later she died; she had not seen him return. A short time later my father followed and I took over his position. I had to. There was no else to do it. I did not like to. But I did my work as well as I could with all that I had learned. The people of the village came to me as they had come to my father; the men and the women equally. At first, this had astonished me. Me, a woman, being asked by men for advice. So contradictory to our traditions. But it was them that had wanted this little change. And it did our village good. Women now were asked about their point of view more often than before. Their opinions were considered before decisions were made. People became more equal; servants were honored more for their work.

When my brother finally returned after years, he had grown up to be a man, strong and vital and with a keen eye and mind. And he brought a lot of stories from his adventures. It seemed that he was a very liked person and famous in those other countries for his ideas and opinions. Many of those were from our traditions. So my mother had been wrong that he had not yet learned enough about our way of living. In a quiet way I felt proud that he was my brother and had taken this chance in his life to have all those experiences.

I was so happy to see him. And on our first quiet moment together I asked him if he would now take over the position of our father. He agreed, but asked to be allowed to mourn for our parents before he did so. And with a condition: that I would advice him when he didn't not know what to do. Sometimes two minds are better than one before a final decision was made. 

To this I agreed happily. I was free again. Not having to fill a position and role that I did not feel to be mine. I never moved to another man's house. My brother though did take a woman to our house and had children. Both of us taught them what we had learned in our lives. One day they would take our place.

Although that one day in my childhood, that had been so sad and had changed a lot of the plans for my life I had had at that time and that had forced me into a position for some time of my life that I had not freely chosen, I must say in looking back that I did have a good fulfilling life. 

It is always an option to see the positive that is in any given situation and not only the negative that is there. 

So, this is the little story that goes to that image. A whole life in one picture.