The Real Adeje Knocks Socks off the Coast

Most tourists and many ex-pats think they’ve visited Adeje when they visit the island.  Sure, the coastal resorts of Costa Adeje are a vast improvement on the way Playa de las Americas used to be, but Adeje “proper” is light-years away in style and atmosphere. If you think of Adeje as a county and Adeje village/town as the county seat, then you will get the idea.

The municipality of Adeje, which, together with neighboring Guia de Isora formed the Guanche kingdom or Mencey, of Adeje prior to the Spanish conquest, is a thriving and prosperous community. That’s because the area has the most hours of sunshine on the island, that for which most tourists still come. This coast is crammed with names familiar to the tourist trade, Playa de las Americas, Torviscas, La Caleta, Costa Fañabe, Costa Adeje, Playa Paraiso and Callao Salvaje, maybe others I’ve forgotten. However, the county town, sitting around 250m above sea level overlooks them, and it’s still a lively, but laid back, local community.

Neighbor on the other side, Arona, has moved much of its paperwork and offices down to the coast, but main post office, town hall and cultural center of Adeje are all still sited in the heart of town. This week I needed to make a trip to the town hall, and had the luck to choose a blissfully clear and sunny day. I like to get paperwork and such stuff out of the way as early in the day as I can to avoid the queues and delays which build up as the morning grinds on (laid back, remember!), so I arrived a little early and wandered around for a while. I’d been meaning to come and take a look at the new town square, which was much publicized when it was dedicated not so long ago. With the town hall on one side and the parish church on the other it teeters on the very edge of the Barranco del Infierno, and is a fabulous vantage point to view the valley and surrounding hills, which at the moment, after the winter rains, look as if they are covered in green velvet.

As you can see in the picture above, it is a stunning juxtaposition of natural beauty, history and modern architecture, not something you see very often elsewhere, and yet, for all the concrete construction and spoiling of the coastline, it’s not that uncommon on this island.

Clock atop the Town Hall

Sitting on the steps of the plaza I fell into a conversation with an old guy who was watching his two small and elderly dogs frisking about.  ”That one’s 70, the same age as me,” he boasted.  I resisted the temptation to scream or to reveal my age.  I noted the walking stick laid next to him, and also the fact he was quite heftily over-weight.  ”People in Adeje don’t like dogs,” he commented.  I agreed, having stayed there for a few months some years back.  I told him that El Médano was a much friendlier place for dogs.  ”Used to work there,” he said, “On the banana plantation.”  This sounded interesting.  I’ve seen workers being bused in to work there, and I figured that the conditions were quite hard under the plastic sheeting used to protect the plants from the high winds, and I was thinking of sitting down next to him.  I knew if I did my morning was probably shot at, and it would be hard to get away.  Then he said, “All Communists there, you know.”  No, I hadn’t realized that.  ”Oh you need to be careful.  I’ve worked there, and they’re all Communists.”  OK, I figured it was probably time to go see if the motor taxation department was open yet, so I wished him a nice day and strolled off, wishing maybe I’d had that conversation a few years back when possibly his mind was a bit more agile.

My business done, I wound my way through the one-way system out of town and passed this canon which stands in front of the old Casa Fuerte, or fortified residence. Adeje was a prosperous area almost from the beginning of Spanish rule. Sugar cane, which was a major crop on the islands for a long time was grown there and shipped to Europe from the port of La Caleta, where I watched the ceremonial bathing of livestock on festival of San Sebastian last month. tI would be a bit grand to call Casa Fuerte a fort, but the historical marker provides a sketch of the original layout of the building you see behind the canon. It included the lookout tower, residence and servants quarters, a small chapel, grain storage and an archive room, and it reminds me for all the world of something from one of those old movies about colonial Mexico….and, I suppose, with reason. There are parallels and comparisons to be made between colonization in the archipelago and that in South America. . The building was more or less destroyed by fire over a hundred years ago (does it seem ripe for renovation and exploitation to you, or is it just me?), but happily those archives were rescued and turned over to the local authority.

This morning is pretty much what an average day can be like here.  The motor tax thing was pretty straightforward for once; I had a glimpse of history and of Mother Nature’s allure; I admired modern architecture and I had a quirky conversation – and in the midst of all that I forgot to get myself a coffee on the pretty main street, which is a very tempting place to sit under the trees on a warm morning.

Postcards from the Island

I have a certain mental lethargy at the moment.  Recent days have been full, and dictated by events and necessities other than exploring or writing or photography.  My son, Austin, has been in hospital (successfully and he’s now recuperating at home), and boring stuff like dental appointments and car checks are driving my life, so for now here are just a few glimpses of the island I’ve had in recent weeks, things I want to know more about, places I want to revisit and some food for thought.

Las Teresitas. Probably the most photographed beach on the island, because of its beautiful, golden sand, imported many moons ago from Western Sahara. Something which is now forbidden, I understand. Often overlooked by the run-of-the-mill tourists who favor the more predictable weather of the south of the island. Las Teresitas lies about ten minutes from Santa Cruz, and was quite breezy on the day we passed by, killing time between appointments.

From the same vantage point, overlooking the coast on the other side from Las Teresitas, where you can see almost to the tip of the island.

Las Teresitas lies just a heartbeat outside of the village of San Andres, and this, so far as I can make out, is the local graveyard.  It’s quite a contrast with the one in Santiago del Teide which I photographed last month, which was colorful and pristine, but it looks as if it has a multitude of stories it might tell.  Many of the graves were unkempt, even tumbledown, and some were unmarked.  I’ve asked some questions about it, but not as many as if I were going to write something in detail about it, so it remains a bit of an unsolved mystery for me, although one fact which has emerged is that it was used by U2 on an album cover.  A quick search didn’t find it, but maybe someone who’s more of a U2 fan than I can tell me more?

I often remark on what a fascinating little city Santa Cruz is.  Of late the city part has seemed more “real” to me, being there for business or appointments I’ve felt something of that  city vibe one gets in London or Madrid, but having an hour to spare on day I strolled a bit in Parque García Sanabria in the heart of the mini-metropolis, and found that same sense of peace one finds in pretty city parks the world over.  This one is especially tranquil, and, of course, in this climate, always green and shady.

Finally, just to prove two things:   (1) That even a pretty city has its ugly side, and (2) that there is some drama and beauty even in that ugliness, I snapped this picture from the roof of a shopping mall the other day.  Over the top of the smelly Cepsa refinery on the very edge of the city, the sun, almost ready to bid  goodnight to the earth, breaks through the clouds a last time.

I See a Full Moon Rising

Family stuff has kept me occupied this week, and there hasn’t been much time for anything else.  Happily always carrying my camera proved it’s worth the trouble again.  Coming home early evening yesterday.  I found the full moon, newly risen, casting a silver path on the ocean.  I used to see this kind of sight often when I lived down the road in Los Abrigos, where my window opened almost directly over the Atlantic.  Often wondered if I stepped out onto that path, where it might lead me.

The Sunsets on my Doorstep

El Médano, basically, faces east, so faced with a desire to photograph sunsets I zoom over to the west coast, yes?   Well, yes, I did that last week, and whilst I was more than happy with the purple/grey stormy skies I snapped I felt cheated of the sunset, but Mother Nature had a treat in store for me….and here is another lesson in always having your camera handy……I popped out the other early evening to get a couple of items from the supermarket, which is only around a couple of corners from me, and then decided to treat myself to an ice cream, so I ambled over to Plaza Roja to Gelateria Demaestri to torture myself over whether to have the chocolate brownie, the cinnamon or the coffee ice cream. Now, the biggest problem with Demaestri’s ice cream is that it has to be eaten at once.  It’s all natural stuff, and so it melts incredibly fast, meaning before I can make it home it’s dripping all over my fingers.  So I went to sit on the benches facing the harbor, and that’s when I realized that just maybe there was going to be a chance of a good sunset.

So I decided to chill out and wait.  This bench runs the length of the boardwalk which, in turns, runs the length of one side of the harbor, and at this pre-dinner or post-afternoon-activity hour the area all around it was buzzing with people engaged in all sorts of activities.  There were a couple of men fishing from the rocks between the boardwalk and the ocean, who were getting all sorts of angsty about a guy who was power-swimming too close to their lines.  Eventually he heard their yelling and veered off in another direction.  People passed with windsurf boards and skate boards, dogs and towels wet from their swimming.  Children clutched kites and wobbled on inline skates, and two or three couples huddled together further down the bench, waiting in anticipation of a romantic sunset.  More folk emerged from the ice cream parlor and sat to enjoy the confection and the view.  It grew a little chilly, as it does here, even in summertime when the sun begins to disappear, and I wasn’t prepared for it, this being unplanned, but it was worth the wait and the chill, as you can see.

El Médano is blessed with some great street art, which, unfortunately, is mostly uncredited, despite suggestions to the delightful lady in the Tourist Information Office, who is entirely in agreement, and has passed on requests to the Town Hall.  They remain however a mystery, which is a shame.  The one which is set against the sunset above is part of a set, and any interpretation would only be rumor, so I won’t go there until I can say anything with authority.  It is, however, a beautiful piece of polished rock, the layers and colors of which you can see better in subsequent photos.

The next evening storm clouds had gathered again, and as clouds are often a requirement of a really dramatic sunset, I popped down again at the same time to see if there was anything to see.  There was, as you can see below, and the photos say much more than I could ever put into words, so I’ll shut up now.

Beginning of an Island Day

This has been and uneventful week for me; oh, it’s included two visits to my favorite ice cream parlor (coming back slurping chocolate brownie and coffee ice creams respectively….. and now, of course, my hips hate me!); coffees, chats and chilling with friends, but nothing and nowhere which seems to me very interesting to anyone else – except perhaps my photo memories of one, particular morning. I’ve gotten into the habit of beginning to write after dinner, which, in turn had led to burning of midnight oil, and, subsequently rolling out of bed far too late. I’m an annoyingly early morning person by nature, and rousing myself at 9ish I feel cheated of my day, no matter how late I was the previous night, or will be that night.  When I realized that I had missed an especially gorgeous sunrise the other morning, I  determined to break this pattern . So, resolved to get back to my normal way of life, I cajoled a couple of friends into joining me to take some sunrise snaps from a vantage point in Valle San Lorenzo which offers a spectacular 360º panorama of the surrounding area. These were the results:

This view looking east towards where I live in El Médano (with a zoom I might even be able to identify my home) and Montaña Roja as the sun begins its ascent.

Panning west, the sunrise glow seeps along the horizon, the island of La Gomera emerges from the night, but Valle San Lorenzo, below us, is still in shadow.

Morning glow just glaces off El Teide and the surrounding peaks, as the valley still  slumbers.

With the rising sun the sky is a constantly changing vista of pastel colors, which flow from the sun, merge and melt into the atmosphere.

Cacti salute the dawn, as it spreads along the coast and highlights the volcanic folds of Montaña Guaza below.

That ball of fire is about to burn off the haze and become too bright to photograph, leaving me with just the memories.

Now mountains, valley, villages and fields warm to the sun, and it’s time for coffee :=)

Roof Top View

The view from my roof terrace isn’t especially photogenic – at least with the lenses I have, but it does give you an idea of the result of yesterday’s rains on the mountain tops. It’s normal for there to be snow on El Teide at this time of year, but not so usual for there to be so much snow on the surrounding peaks. Frustratingly, the roads are closed this morning, so I won’t be rushing up there to get a closer view. Apparently they are just sheets of ice, which must seem weird to those of you who live where winter snow and sleet are normal, but in this sub-tropical climate I guess there isn’t the equipment to cope with this volume of the white and frozen stuff!

Dramatic Skies on a Chill Early Evening

Someone I know posted a glorious picture of this morning’s sunrise in Tenerife, and I cursed my sloth in not getting up early enough.  I live right next to a beach which faces east, and I had a feeling last night that it was going to be good, but I allowed Morpheus to cajole me, and turned over when the alarm went off.

We had heavy rain again this afternoon.  No-one I speak to remembers so many days of consistently bad weather, or is it just nostalgia.  The period between Christmas and the end of January was gloriously sunny, in the south at least, and my photos taken in those weeks show unbroken, sapphire blue skies.  It’s true, though, that nights have seemed to be unusually cold, even when the days have been bright.  I certainly never before went out with the express purpose of buying fleecy pyjamas, which I did a few weeks back, and although my feet and body have been warm as toast as I sat just now watching a movie, my hands and nose are like ice, which is not normal for coastal living.  Could be, though, that I didn’t warm up from taking the photos below!

Having missed the sunrise I thought I’d idle down to Playa de las Americas and see if those clouds were going to be party to a spectacular sunset.  The rain had eased off, and I went to El Conquistador, where my sons used to surf.  Even if the sun let me down there might be waves.  Sun and waves were both a bit iffy, but the storm clouds were quite impressive, as you can see.  Truth be told, even though the winter has been a bit chilly, it does make a change from blue skies.  The sky was multiple shades of blue through grey through white and purple.  Maybe not so awesome as one of those scarlet sunsets, but pretty dramatic even so.

This channel has been cut through the sand and pebbles by excess rainwater, finding its way to the ocean, and the mountains, which are catching the very last glow of the sun are reflected.

Senegalese Know How to Party

I want you to take a look at these faces – did you ever see people having so much fun?!

As the final event for me in a week full of the variety I crave, last Saturday night I went to a Senegalese fiesta in the small town of Guaza.  Guaza is far from the pretty and traditional villages I often write about.  It’s like Blackburn to Hawkshead (and before you say there are nice parts of Blackburn, there are nice parts of Guaza too).  It’s little more than a pinprick on the map, but it is functional housing, car show rooms and the Sunday rastro (flea market) rather than tradition and picturesque church spires.  It also has a large immigrant population (but not the well-off the retirees or the affluent salesmen from northern Europe who mainly live in the resort areas, but who are, equally, immigrants), and many of those immigrants are from Senegal, which is why the town square there was chosen for this inter-cultural exchange.

I’m wholeheartedly for anything which helps people of different cultures to understand each other, whether it’s Canarian-Chinese, English-Spanish or whatever, but when it comes to Senegalese culture I love everything I’ve ever learned or come across.  The very best parties I’ve ever been to were Senegalese, they were the most fun, the happiest and had the best dancing, and all without a whiff of alcohol.  Everyone was just high on having fun.  This ability to be happy, even in the face of hardships and often without the comforts we find necessary to our contentment in the West, is something we can all learn from.  The happiness comes from sharing the good times with the community.

Saturday night’s event was more formal, of course, the local mayor put in an appearance, and the women were dressed to kill.  You really can’t get any idea at all from my photos.  Either I haven’t learned enough yet, or I need another lens or something, but the photos don’t do justice at all to the amazing colorful and glamorous outfits, quite putting to shame those of us there in our jeans, or sweats or hippy scruff.

We had heard the incessant drumming as we walked along the road at 6-ish, but as traditionally nothing much was happening then.  We stood and sat around chatting and meeting up with old friends.  The signal that things were about to hot up was when the ladies arrived in their finery, and took their seats forming a circle, with the musicians at the top.  Once the first woman jumps up to strut her stuff the proceedings have begun.  It’s all totally spontaneous, with anyone totally doing their own thing.  At times there was only one person on the floor, other times 6 or 7.  The same thing happens when you go to concerts by Senegalese superstars Ismael Lo or Youssou N’Dour, people from the audience just jump onto the stage and dance in an impromptu celebration of just being alive.

Realizing that my limited skills weren’t up to the task, I put my camera away after a while, and just listened and watched and enjoyed.  Came the point I always get to, where I realize that I am just grinning ear to ear and can’t stop!  It finished way too soon, but I suppose it was a residential area, and remember that in tourist destinations people work all hours and need their sleep.  It was only something just after nine o’clock, and I don’t doubt that the best parties were yet to come in private homes!  And Senegal shot right back up to the top of my places-I-MUST-visit list!

Cursing my abject failure as a photographer I just skimmed YouTube for a video which might give you an idea of the excitement and the energy, and also a better glimpse of those wonderful chiffons and satins and sequins which make up the fabulous dresses.  The one below really is pretty much the way it was on Saturday night.

A Hearty Canarian Feast

Coming down from the mountains the other day with the outside temperature gradually rising to 16 to 17 degrees, we felt in need of something substantial to warm us up.  It was 12.15, and early to eat by standards here, where lunch isn’t really served until around 1.30, but outside  my first choice,  Rincon Gomero, just below the village of La Esperanza,  the sign said open at 1pm. and we were too cold and hungry to wait, so we crossed the autopista to the outskirts of La Laguna  in search of a guachinche which Cristina knew.  A guachinche is a family-run restaurant, many are open only as long as the produce of the last grape harvest lasts, being a way for a very small producer to sell his wine,  but others are more or less always open, or at least open as often as they can or want to be.  This one wasn’t because the owner had a doctor’s appointment, that’s the way it is.  So we went off in search of sustenance elsewhere, but not before we admired the view from the vacant lot next to the guachinche, where the sweeping panorama took in the Mercedes Mountains, and the villages of Tegueste and Tejina before meeting the ocean in the distance.

Though it was warmer down here (but still something just under 2,000 ft above sea level) it was a bit misty and threatening more drizzle, so the photos aren’t too clear, but they do show you the contrast between the crystal clear skies and the stark, volcanic landscape through which we’d driven (see previous post) and this luxuriantly green farmland, which, for me, is the heart of this island.

But admiring vistas, even as impressive as this one, wasn’t satisfying our hunger pangs, and it was then that Cristina remembered that we were just around the corner from Portezuelo and what I now know is a locally famous restaurant called Casa Tomás.  This restaurant, judging from the wording on their website, must have begun life as a guachinche, certainly it was not the full-time family business it now is, but you can read all about that on their website, which you will also find in English.  Now it is what is generally described as a tipico, a restaurant specializing in local dishes, no frills, but excellent value for money.

I left the ordering to Cristina, except for the glass of local red wine for me, as she was driving, and she did us proud!  Happily, we had arrived just before the lunchtime rush, so the word escaldón had no sooner been uttered than it was in a steaming bowl on the table between us, and we tucked in with vigor.  Escaldón is, well, hard to say what category of dish it falls into.  It’s made from gofio, which is the traditional flour here in the Canary Islands, made from toasted grains.  The grain can be either wheat or maize, but the toasting gives it a very distinctive flavor.  In making escaldón it’s mixed with stock, and in the one in front of us, it was also mixed with shredded chunks of meat and just a hint of mint.  The menu, translating it into English, actually calls it a soup, although it isn’t listed with the other soups, and it’s solid, like a porridge kind of consistency, but very warming like soup.  However you like to describe it, it was delicious and warming, and exactly what we needed to warm us up,  and I felt a bit like a child in a Dickensian poorhouse, gobbling as if I’d been starved for a week!

Had I realized just how generous the next platter was going to be I might have held back on the escaldón a bit, but thus I blew dessert.  Costillas y piñas is what you see in the photo above – salted pork spare ribs, which have been soaked to remove the excess salt, obviously, and simmered until the meat just falls off the bones…..I swear I can taste them now!  They are served with chunks of corn (the piñas) and green mojo on a bed of local potatoes – a hearty, traditional dish, which, as suspected left no room for dessert :=(  But not to worry, having found Casa Tomás there is no doubt I will be returning!   As we sat back, and I wondered if I could actually move, I glanced around, and every table had made the same choice.  Costillas y piñas is the house speciality, so hardly surprising then that they do it to perfection!  You can make out in the photo above that the tables around us were almost all empty when our dish arrived, by the time we were finished the place was full, and people were still arriving.

One of the things I Love (note the capital L) about living here is that you are never, ever rushed by waiters, no matter how busy a restaurant is.  You could linger over your coffee for an hour, and still feel totally welcome.  It’s part of the rhythm of island life.  The other pleasant thing is the price.  This particular feast cost us around €10 a head.

Visiting the Snowclad Volcano

My friend, Cristina, and I had been in a meeting for over an hour, and as we stepped out into the sunshine, we had an almost unobstructed view of the mountains from the office in Las Galletas, and the breathtaking sight of Mt Teide as he rose triumphantly over the island in his winter coat.  Down here on the coast we’d had high winds and heavy rain, but up there, at over 12,000 ft, the precipitation fell frozen and glistening white.  El Teide is the highest mountain in Spain, if I failed to mention that before.   We were seized by the impulse to drive straight up there to see it up close, but it took only a few minutes to realize that between us we had too many commitments and plans to change at such short notice, and knowing that the forecast was for more bad weather over the weekend we planned to go this week, when there would be even more snow.

As it happened, even though the weather had been a bit rough over the following days, we could see, as we set off from La Camella at a very chilly 8.30am, that there wasn’t as much snow as there had been exactly a week before.  In the meantime, roads had been closed and access restricted for hours and even days, to protect both people and the National Park over which Teide reigns, as fierce sleet and winds battered the peaks.   Our intention was to take a leisurely drive, stop for me to snap, go our separate ways for a while once we got down to La Laguna, and perhaps take in the movie which was showing in the Caja Canarias season of movies on the photojournalism theme, and so we snaked up the mountain roads in the cool early morning, under an impossibly blue sky.  Though we didn’t lose sight of the sapphire skies, the clouds were closing in behind us, and forming the famous Mar de Nubes (Sea of Clouds).  The effect is like that you have when flying, high above the clouds, so that you look down on a fleecy blanket of white, and can’t see the land below.

The roads were fairly quiet.  It was the day after a holiday, and maybe the forecast had been too iffy for tourists to bother.  They missed a treat if that was the case.  We found ourselves in the caldera in no time, and cruising through a landscape, which is for me, after 20-odd years of living here, both familiar and yet strange.  I do not exaggerate when I say that it never, ever fails to awe me.  These rocks, this pre-historic landscape, the sense of the power of nature, and the stark contrasts between the somber crags and  that indigo sky, all conspire to suspend the current reality and allow the imagination to run riot.  Let’s be honest here, Mother Nature is nothing if not a drama queen.

Magnificent and unspoiled though the landscape was, first impressions were of a distinct lack of snow.  Pockets could be seen in shady nooks, where the sun had little power in winter, but not what you’d call even a “covering”.  That said, since the area became not only a National Park, but a World Heritage Site in 2007, there are far more restrictions and regulations aimed at  limiting  damage to the natural and unavoidable rather than the disrespect of man, and it was very likely that, had we made it a week before, we would have found roads closed and access to the caldera cut off.  There were days, years ago, when, at the first sign of snow, we would rush on up with sleds or plastic bin liners, hot chocolate and ski gear, but earlier this week access from the north was one way, via the village of La Esperanza and down via the Orotava Valley, and if you climbed the way we did, from the south, then the road was blocked roughly half way across the vast volcanic crater, and you had to return the way you came, via Vilaflor or via Chio.   Those are the four main routes up and down the mountain.

As we were going north in any event, we continued, knowing, as any fan of adventure movies will tell you, that there was more chance of snow on the north-facing slopes, and we were not disappointed, as we drew closer and began to circle El Teide, and the car’s thermometer registered 5ºC,  we saw more and more, until, leaving El Portillo behind and beginning the at first gradual descent we discovered enough of the wet and white stuff, as Cristina said, to make snowballs.

I put a couple of these pictures on my Facebook page earlier, and received some nice compliments, but, honestly, with these colors, these contrasts, with the snow and the sky, and that majestic mountain – how can you go wrong?

So, I happily snapped away, and Cristina made snowballs and had an abortive attempt at a snow angel, but it was too hardpacked for that.  It was after this that she put down the roof on the car, we bundled up against the cold even more, and  began to mosey down , past the observatory, in the direction of La Laguna, reminding me of the days back when I was young and had my much-loved MG Midget, and had the top down in all but serious weather.

Cristina and her talking car

We had only been going for a few minutes, however, when I had to call another stop.  The extraordinary Mar de Nubes, which was now masking the northern coast from view, was on the move, stealthily slithering its way up the mountainside, creeping between tree and rock in a surreal and measured glide, and it had changed from the fluffy, white clouds of the southern slopes to grey and forboding, with different colored layers.

I’ve seen this before, it’s eerie and other-worldly, and I could sit and watch it for hours, but the real world, down below was calling, and we resumed our journey.

It was about halfway down that we caught up with the clouds, as they sneaked their way amongst the trunks of Canarian pines, blackened by forest fires, but with defiant new growth emerging on their tops.  I swear, Hollywood couldn’t have set a scene more perfectly, and up went the top of the car, as the icy haze surrounded us.

It was just after this that I began to wonder if perhaps it really all was a dream, as outside it fell to 4ºC, and an alarm went off as the car actually warned us of the fall in the temperature.  Cristina, I should add, was delighted that her car was communicating with her – this wasn’t a feature she’d actually ever expected to function on this sub-tropical island!

Following the curves from that point down was entering yet another world, where, leaving the forest behind, lush and green fields and yellow flowers bordered the road, until the clatter of motorway traffic could be heard, and we crossed into the outskirts of the city, and then back out into the country villages for lunch……..but that is another story, for another day.  This morning belonged to the mists and the mountains and the snow, the coast, the city, bright lights and shopping malls belong to a different world entirely…….or at least they seem to…….and that, as you know, is what I keep harping on about – the variety to be found in less than 800sq miles.