Gran Canaria, Dec. 3

Sayeth the ship’s information sheet: “The residents of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria enjoy the second-best climate the world.”  Sayeth Las Palma de Gran Canaria: “not today!”  The weather gods, fickle as always, had other ideas.

As we motored slowly through the drizzle and mist, we were treated to – surprise, surprise – a lecture about bananas, quickly confirming the theme for this voyage.  Our guide was thrilled with the precipitation, explaining that banana plants (“don’t call them trees because they’re not”) need 20 liters of water per day.  To assure I’m appropriately clad for the remainder of the trip, I purchased an “apeeling” pair of banana-bedecked socks (thank you to my new friend Denis for the pun, which I’m ashamed not to have thought of myself).

Following the “fruitful” talk (have I partially redeemed myself?), we made several stops, starting with a neo-gothic church still in its childhood (a mere 100 years old), the Templo Parroquial de San Juan Bautista in the town of Arucas.  The church has a graceful, light interior, but of course it couldn’t compare to the bananas growing outside.

Next up was a visit to the town of Teror, founded in 1481 after reports that the Virgin had appeared nearby.  The church fronting the main square is the Basilica de Nuestra Señora del Pino (Our Lady of the Pines).  I guess a church dedicated to our Lady of the Plantains might not draw “bunches” of worshippers.  (Now have I redeemed myself?)

Wandering through Teror, I struck up a conversation with a woman selling delicious spreads:  spiced avocado, black garlic, mango, etc.  It turns out she’d emigrated from Cuba, having grown up in a town near where my mother was born in 1934.  This isn’t profound, but traveling the wide world confirms repeatedly what a small place it really is.  In what I’ll take as a sign from beyond (reinforced by yet another rainbow), on the way to the bus we passed some beautiful chickens, calling to mind my mother’s childhood pet, Juanito, who used to sit on her lap while she played piano. 

Before leaving Teror, we were treated to a taste of ron con miel (honeyed rum), which nicely warmed the insides on this damp and chilly day.  The store also sold banana liqueur, which I’m sure would’ve had all sorts of miraculous properties, but none was on offer.  Our final stop was Pico de Bandama, a tall hill overlooking a deep caldera. 

I realize we only saw bits of the island in uncooperative weather (unless you’re a banana plant), but Gran Canaria didn’t wow me.  I wish we had stopped in Tenerife, as originally planned and mysteriously supplanted (Azamara apparently saw no need to explain why), because I understand it has far more interesting sights.