Exploring the Surprising History of Santa Cruz de Tenerife

“Rule, Britannia,

Britannia rule the waves.

Britons never, never, never

Shall be slaves!”

The stirring words echo tunelessly around the walls of Tenerife’s Military Museum, and I glance around in embarrassment. I can’t help but wonder if someone is going to come thundering out of an office to whisk me away as an enemy collaborator or some such. (The chorus is pretty tame … check out the full lyrics for the arrogance of the time!)

The captured British flag from the Battle of Santa Cruz in 1797

Our group has had a brief tour of the museum as a final stop in the inaugural Living Tenerife Tours excursion around island capital, Santa Cruz, and I have been cajoled into my rendering by our host Jorge Ballesteros, creator of this excellent outing.

Jorge is a fascinating and gracious guide. Insights into those points where Tenerife’s history intersects with that of Great Britain flow like Canarian wine. These links have long-fascinated him, and now, retired from full-time work, he is realizing his dream of creating this excursion, aimed directly at this common history.

But I am already “ahead of myself.” Let’s begin at the beginning. We met with Jorge in the city’s remodelled Plaza de España. Early morning here is my favorite time of day. If I were you, I would arrive early, grab a coffee, watch city life begin to unfold, as the waters of the pool reflect the skyline. If you arrive by car there is ample parking in the car park under the plaza.

When our transport arrived, it was a good indication of how the day was to go. A sleek, Mercedes mini bus drew up, and we clambered happily into the air conditioned comfort, as the day began to warm up. I am a great fan of city walking tours, but to combine the best of both worlds, some walking with retreats into this kind of luxury, complete with a fridge and coffee, was perfect.

The car purred through busy city streets to our first destination. Recent visits to Santa Cruz have revived my curiosity about the period of history this tour covers, so I had been delighted to accept this invitation from Living Tenerife Tours. The city boasts some beautiful, colonial-era architecture, and I’ve been wondering about the people who built and lived in these grand houses, and the gap between what was clearly enormous wealth and the agricultural life, whose history is more familiar to me. I was about to learn the history of one such house, built by an “expat,” one Henry Wolfson.

Wolfson arrived in Tenerife in 1886 on a stopover on his way to South Africa, where, at the age of 29, he was intending to make his fortune. The stopover proved to be his destiny. He stayed, and he made an enormous fortune, investing in the cultivation of tomatoes and potatoes, purchasing land in the south of Tenerife, and establishing The Tenerife Gas & Coke Company. He was a shining example of the type of entrepreneur today associated with tech, and he built a magnificent house on a hillside overlooking the city capital. The impressive building, now almost hidden, unless you are quite close, resembles a castle, with turrets, and an ornate façade. Over time, the house became a hotel, and popular stopover spot for world travellers and visiting merchants. Now it is a private school, and as such we were able to visit the exterior, where Jorge, an old-boy, pointed out features, including the expansive view over the modern city, and regaled us with other interesting facts about the original owner.

Jorge kept up the flow of information and pointed out other points of interest as our car glided to our next stop, the pretty Church of St George in the “Plaza de los Patos.” Originally built in the late 19th century as an Anglican church, it was sold to the Catholic Church a little less than 100 years later, as numbers of Anglican faithful declined. Jorge’s description of its history and that of its surroundings was comprehensive, but I am not going to tell you more ….. you will need to take the tour to discover all of that.

After a brief stop at Calatrava’s magnificent Auditorium on the seafront, we arrived at the Military Museum and my pitiful rendition of Rule Britannia …. bleeding-heart liberal that I am, yet those words still send a little shiver down my spine. They take me back to a childhood steeped in the sort of chauvinistic version of history that the British education system taught in the 1950s. Horatio Nelson has been a hero of mine from that time, so some years back when I learned that there was an important connection between the Admiral and my chosen home, the island of Tenerife, there was that little thrill again. Sadly for my English teachers the Battle of Santa Cruz was the only defeat in his glorious career. The museum has an extensive exhibit about the battle, including captured, British flags and a model with audio describing how the battle unfolded. We concentrated on this aspect of the museum’s collection, because this was the theme of our jaunt, but I noted that there are plenty of other interesting exhibits. This was the only museum on the island I hadn’t visited before, and I will be returning to explore it fully.

And so we returned to the Plaza de España where Jorge fed us more fascinating, historical tidbits, and we posed for the now-obligatory photo op next to the newest piece of street art next to the pool. Here I have to confess that a sloppy wave of huge affection for my adopted island almost overcame me, but in true stiff upper-lip fashion I took a deep breath and posed for the photo.

Thanks to Canary PR for allowing me to use their photo, because, of course, I am not in the ones I took!

I loved this tour. History has always been a passion for me, and moving to the Canary Islands, and discovering the things which unite us, rather than things which divide us, has been a delight over the years. Living Tenerife Tours taught me new things, and confirmed my passion ….. and it was about to cater to another – the island’s food and wine.

Santa Cruz skyline and harbor

Jorge steered us in the direction of the prestigious Real Casino de Tenerife, which occupies an appropriate position overlooking the Plaza de España on one side, and the Plaza de Candelaria on another. Built in the early 19th century, it isn’t actually a casino, but the type of gentlemen’s club where you might expect to find the likes of James Bond, except that it is very much now for both men and women. Entering, you are immediately struck by two imposing murals by Canarian artists Néstor Martin Fernández and José Aguiar, and I gather that other gems of local art are housed here. We were able to have a brief look around, including a spectacular view over the Plaza de España, where Jorge revealed a little-known fact about the pool below us (No, not going to tell you …. you need to take the tour!).

Plaza de España

Detail from one of the beautiful murals at the entrance to the Real Casino de Tenerife

Afterwards we were ushered to the library where Jorge outlined his plans and hopes for his new venture, before having lunch in the exclusive restaurant.

Jorge fills us in on all the details of his plans for this new venture

This was a great privilege, being open only to members and their guests, and it showcased the very best of modern and traditional Canarian cuisine, presented in beautiful style. We feasted on award-winning goat cheese from neighboring Fuerteventura, gofio mixed with honey and almonds, the famous black potatoes with a texture like satin, a fusion dish combining local tuna with seaweed in Japanese style, and, a special treat, cochinillo negro, a breed of pig which dates back to pre-Hispanic times on the islands, but which was in danger of dying out until a big effort was made to revive it in recent years. Other delights were too many to name, and all washed down with perfect Canarian wines. My love for Canarian wines is, I believe, well documented on my social media, so I will just say that I sampled both white and red and both lived up to my high expectations!

First course – delicious tasters of Canarian Cuisine

Another thanks to Canary PR for the photo … I was much too busy enjoying the food and wine to take as many photos as I should have!

So – now for the full disclosure. As you will have gathered already, I was invited on this excellent excursion by Living Tenerife Tours but I promise you, hand on heart, that I was asked only to write my personal impressions – which you have here. I’ve always loved history, and since immigrating these links which bind UK and Tenerife have fascinated me. It’s partly the history of trade, and how it binds us …. hmmm, topical.

The tour I did was designed for six of us, although the bus would have seated more quite comfortably. Jorge’s idea is to tailor-make tours to fit clients, so a party of two, for instance, would have a smaller vehicle. Clients with specific dietary needs will be catered for. That will also be a part of the booking process. There are also tours to La Laguna, Puerto de la Cruz and Orotava planned, all with the same attention to details and respect for personal tastes. Take a look at the Website or Facebook Page for full details, or follow them on Instagram. I am very grateful to both Living Tenerife Tours and Canary PR for inviting me on this trip, which revealed much I didn’t already know about Anglo-Tinerfenian history, and which I will long remember.

2013 Re-enactment of the Battle of Santa Cruz

On a warm July night in 1797, with a high swell running,  British ships  were anchored off the coast of Santa Cruz de Tenerife. One of them, the Theseus, was the flag-ship of Horatio Nelson, recently promoted to Rear Admiral of the British navy, under orders from Admiral John Jervis  to attack the fortifications in Santa Cruz, which protected the port and thence the inland city of La Laguna, the island’s capital. In total, between all the ships, they counted on 400 guns, and 4,000 fighting men.

Silently, boats launched from the ships under cover of dark on July 22nd, but the high swell proved too much and they had to turn back, but not before they had been spotted by sentries on the watchtowers of the long fortification, which ran the length of the town and beyond, from the Castillo de San Juan at one end, now dwarfed by Tenerife’s iconic Auditorium, to Castillo San Andres at the other end – now a tumble-down ruin in the village of the same name, next to the much-photographed beach of Las Teresitas.

General Antonio Gutiérrez, commander of the Spanish troops in the Tinerfeñan capital had had ample time to prepare a strategy, and gather a force of some 1,700 men, less than half that of the British, and made up of local militia and hunters as well as regular troops. The British had executed a lightning strike on Santa Cruz in April, and Gutiérrez had taken heed of the necessity to prepare for another, more ambitious attack.

He cleverly moved his forces around, fooling Nelson into believing that there were more men and gun power than there actually were. He thwarted a second attack, and Nelson withdrew along the coast to plan a new strategy.

Steve McCurry Exhibition Santa Cruz de Tenerife

It’s happened to me before, but only a handful of times in my life; being aware that I am in the presence of greatness, someone of talent so far above the norm that I want to hold my breath. It’s happened to me with musicians and singers, activists and speakers, even from time to time with politicians, and last night it happened with photographer Magnum Steve McCurry. He who is best-known outside of people who are interested in photography, travel or news stories, for his picture of the striking Afghan girl with the haunting, green eyes, and most famous for his work with National Geographic perhaps. That’s  a wonderful portrait, but only one of many in this exhibition,  which is clearly a work of love, from the heart as well as the camera of a man in love with life and all its variety.

Caja Canarias is hosting another of its wonderful spring seasons of exhibitions, debates, talks and movies, this year entitled, as last year, Enciende la Tierra (which probably best translates as Light on the Earth, or Focus on the Earth perhaps) and a retrospective of Steve McCurry’s work is a part of it. It opened Tuesday night, and last night McCurry gave a talk with slides of his work.

Seeing these pictures, some of which are so familiar, in life size is an inspiring experience, hearing some of the stories which lay behind them is fascinating; like that the iconic Afghan girl was very shy about being photographed, and how her teacher persuaded her to pose. How it is forbidden to photography women once they reach puberty, which accounts for the tender age of many of his subjects.

He says that he doesn’t consider himself to be a “color photographer” and yet he uses color in ways in which no other photographer I know does. It seems as if he seeks it out, but he denied it, more than once. Between his words in the exhibition and the spoken word last night emerged the image of a man on a mission to celebrate the world, even, very often in its squalor, or at least what seems to us in the “West” as squalor.

His portraits of grubby children, wizened men and women, or shy young girls are, simply,  without compare.  They capture the essence of the subject so strikingly, and you focus first on the character in the faces, and then, after looking for a long while, you are aware that the child has a runny nose, or the old woman’s skin is smeared with dirt……so you see the beauty first, and the poverty second. They are people and not statistics. His own quote on this subject?  “If you wait, people will forget your camera and the soul will drift up into view.”

His landscapes almost always include people, and you wonder at how he managed to be there at just the right moment to capture the light or a particular movement, and then you hear that he traveled for days with a caravan of camels or repeated a boat journey day after day, until he got the shot which has become iconic, and you can only wonder that a normal mortal has that kind of patience.

His speaking style is very, very informal, more like chatting than lecturing, and almost nervous. He was gracious in his thanks to everyone, not forgetting the translators and backstage workers. I felt it when he didn’t immediately elicit the audience response for which, I think, he hoped. That was because the audience was mostly listening to the translation on headphones, so however good the translation there were seconds of delay in the meaning of what he said being clear. Most of the questions in the question and answer session afterwards were fairly predictable, like how did he feel about taking photos of suffering. The answer is that it’s his job to tell us about it, to tell the story for people who can’t tell if for themselves, to bear witness. Or how often had he been in danger, he actually, modestly played that down if you know anything about him.

One answer I liked was that he thought the internet, modern communications, mobile phones etc were great; that if a photographer could use the internet to promote their work and bring it to the world’s attention, then that was cool, and not an insult to traditional photojournalists. I had to stifle a cheer for that of course. He has his own blog  which is http://stevemccurry.com/blog .

He also doesn’t appear to be nostalgic for film. I had the feeling that perhaps the questioner was expecting a different response, a sadness at the change of direction in photography, a longing for the past, but no, he works exclusively in digital mode now, and loves its convenience and versatility. These were really refreshing answers from a guy who is, end of the day, a baby boomer! No dwelling on days of yore but a enthusiasm for the present and the future. You could say I was in double heaven, two of my favorite themes, photography and ageism being addressed in one!

The other thing which emerged, and which some friends will cheer, is that he considers himself in equal parts nomad and photographer. There was a quote to that effect alongside some his photos, but in Spanish I can’t remember exactly how it was, but that is the essence. He considers himself born to travel, and even if he couldn’t take photographs any longer he would still travel. Butterflies in my stomach at that!

Today I’m still a little on cloud 9, wondering if he really was just a few feet away from me last night; resisting the temptation to drive up into the mountains today (because he mentioned that he might be going up there with a view to coming back one day to take photos) in case I might “bump into” him, because last night I just dried up at the thought of asking him a question, although I had a half dozen whirling around my head. I tend to get all tongue-tied, and to do that in front of an audience would have been a killer!

One thing for sure, I’ll be returning to the exhibition a few more times before it finishes! If you’re interested in photography, travel or curious about how others live, or simply about life the exhibition is on until the end of June at the Caja Canarias in Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

Walking Tours: Are They Worth It?

Hands up if you’ve ever made fun of a group of folk trailing along behind a guide carrying aloft a flag or an umbrella, or just a folded pamphlet.  It’s so easy, especially if you’re in a familiar place to put down walking tours, but they’re growing in popularity all over the world.  There aren’t now many cities which don’t boast some form of tour.

I’m one of those with my hand in the air.  Until recent years I considered it extremely embarrassing to be found trooping along the streets  being mocked by the sophisticated locals. Two things made me change my mind. One was a visit to Rome a few years back.  It was my third visit, and I was chuffed to find that I remembered how to get around to the main sights quite well. I was with my friend, Maggie, and it was her first visit, so it was fun to act as our own guide, but when she mentioned wanting to visit Tivoli I knew that it was beyond my capacity to get us there without a lot of hassle, and we plumped for an organized tour recommended by the hotel.  It turned out to be a great idea.  The tour included a visit to Hadrian’s Villa too, and our totally entertaining guide was full of the sort of anecdotes you don’t find in the official brochures.  On the bus back he sat with us, and it turned out that he’d worked in Tenerife, so we had some repartee on that account.  I don’t remember his name any more, but I do vividly remember the visit, and lots of the information he gave us because he did it in such an entertaining way.

I don’t have any pictures from Hadrian’s Villa or Tivoli because I dropped my camera and broke it, but here I am a couple of days before that, throwing my obligatory coin in the Trevi Fountain – managed to get close enough despite the usual hoards because it was (as you may be able to make out) raining! Note to the gods of the fountain: it’s time I was back there!

The second mind-changing event was actually two events, and happened here in Tenerife.  One, which I blogged last year, was a tour euphemistically named La Ruta de los Castillos (Route of the Castles) in Santa Cruz, and the other, lead, as it turned out by the same guide, was a nocturnal museum tour followed by a walking tour of La Laguna, which I didn’t blog.  Both of them organized by the Museums of Tenerife, and both very informative and entertaining, full of stuff I didn’t know before.

The other thing which surprised me and gladdened my heart was that most of the folk on the tours were actually interested in knowing more about the places they visited, and didn’t fit the “ugly tourist” mold at all.

Visiting any city is overwhelming if you’re going for a short stay, unless you’ve done a lot of research first, and know exactly what aspect of the city to concentrate on, so a guided tour of some sort isn’t a bad starting place to get your bearings.  You can always pick out the places which really interest you and return later to find out more.

So then, in Sevilla Maria and I opted to take the tour.  Actually, we took two.  One was a short river cruise, which was fairly cheap (and appealed because of the breeze too – we went in a heat wave, remember!).  There was a constant commentary, so we could scurry from side to side snapping away to our hearts’ content and know what we were seeing!

This was one of the buildings from the 1929 Iber-Americano Exhibition, which, I learned had a huge influence on how the city looks today.  

The pictures above are of the simply stunning Plaza de España, which also dates from the  Iber-Americano Exhibition, although it’s also a beautiful reminder of typical Andalucian architecture and the debt it owes to the Moors. Many of the buildings we saw on the tour dated from this exhibition, without the delightful Filipo explaining everything I wouldn’t have known that.

The other reason we opted for this, particular tour was that it was free.  Of course, at the end we could give or not, as we chose, based on how well we thought Filipo had done.  Some of the sites we saw we’d already seen, so to begin with we did wonder, especially considering the heat again, whether it was a good move or not.  Turned out it was.

There had been a choice of tours, and we opted for one called something like “Myths and Folklore” partly because we both like the old stories and partly because it included the barrio (neighborhood) of Triana, across the river from where we were staying, and said to be the Flamenco heart of Sevilla, so we were sure that the stories would be rich and colorful.  It turned out that the tour company considered that too far to walk in the heat – they were almost certainly right, it definitely wouldn’t have been a good idea for some in our group – so that was a bit disappointing, but what we did get was a tour which was flavored with quirky stories rather than dry facts, and Filipo made sure that wherever we stopped it was in the shade!

Triana, seen only from the opposite river bank, and a reminder to return to Sevilla

We were a very varied group, both in age and nationality, and only one couple dropped out, despite the heat. Our guide turned out to be funny and friendly, but not over-flamboyant, and  the experience was definitely positive.  I’d do one again for sure – although I did chicken out on the Ghosts of York tour I planned to do the following week in England.  It was just too bl**dy cold to be tramping the streets at night!

If you’re travelling alone, walking tours would also offer a great way to meet people, and if you’re nervous of cities of course there is safety in numbers.  It was suggested that we might  join an evening tour too, but we’d already made our own decisions based on our budget for that.  As it turned out we’d chosen one of the bars which Pancho Tours with whom we’d gone, visited and we bumped into one of the guides we’d seen that morning with a good-natured crowd in tow.

Shady avenue of the Parque Maria Luisa in which is situated La Plaza de España.

As always, recommending Pancho Tours.com is something I’m doing because I enjoyed their tour and the friendliness of the service, not because I’m receiving any payment for giving them a plug, in fact, of course, they have no idea I’m doing it. They picked us up at the hostel and then we trotted around to various other locations, picking up folk as we went, like the Pied Piper. At the end we were left in no doubt that we should only give according to our feelings and pocket, there was no hassle at all.  As well as the tour we did they do a historic walk, bike tours and tapas tours.  If you look at the pictures on their website it might look as if it’s all for the young folk, but, as I said, we were a very mixed group.

So – walking tours, worth it or not?  End of the day it depends. Definitely they are probably the most in-depth “snapshot” you’ll get of a city if you’ve got limited time.  You can wander around and ogle gorgeous buildings for hours and not appreciate what you’re seeing.    Knowing the history, myth or tradition of a place brings it alive.  That said, next time in Sevilla, having now, after a couple of visits, got a sense of the city, I’d research first and then choose specific places to visit…..I would also spend longer – city breaks are great, but always leave you wanting more!

Tenerife’s Rival to the Sydney Opera House

As an utter contrast between my last post, about the abandoned goatherd’s cottage, I offer you the totally modern and completely stunning Auditorio de Santa  Cruz de Tenerife Adán Martin.   

The Auditorium dominates the seafront of Santa Cruz, rising, like a powerful wave, curling over the sea wall next to el Castillo de San Juan, where once fortifications stood to repel the British navy. It is graceful, it sparkles in the sunlight or the atmospheric spotlights at night, and it’s a world away from crumbling cottages on a rural hillside.

I’ve never been satisfied with any photos I’ve taken of it, including these.  I suppose that I’m there to enjoy myself, and when a concert is in progress there are all sorts of distractions! I’ve never been around there before with the sole intention of taking photos, and this wasn’t the best time, under a fierce sun, but I had time to spare before an appointment, and nothing better to do, and that old cottage was still very fresh in my mind – I was thinking about the diversity of architecture here.  Could there be two buildings more dissimilar: the cottage tired, dusty and in ruins, and the Auditorio gleaming, sparkling and stylish?

It was designed by the amazing Valencian architect Santiago Calatrava (think the 2004 Olympic stadium in Athens or the new World Trade Center Transport Hub in New York just to name a couple).  His buildings have flowing lines which, for me, put them in harmony with Nature, rather than at odds with it, unlike so many buildings, which thrust aggressively upwards challenging the Earth. It opened, as a performing arts center in 2003.  Until then the island’s culture vultures had struggled with uncomfortable seats and poor acoustics in the Teatro Guimerá, which is a lovely wee theater, whose classic 19^th century décor reminds me of the theatres you see in movies set in gold-rush San Francisco, but not really up to modern musical performance.

The Auditorium is home to the Tenerife Symphony Orchestra, the annual Heineken Jazz Festival (or some of the festival’s concerts), and an annual, far-too-brief Fall opera season. During the yearly MUMES World Music Festival in August it hosts outdoor concerts on its spacious Plaza Alisios, with stalls around the perimeter offering foods and drinks from different countries. Los Alisios are the trade winds, which brought, over history, so much prosperity to the islands, so meaningful naming.

Since it opened, I’ve seen acts from Youssou N’Dour to Michel Camilo, from Paco de Lucia to Madeleine Peyroux, and there have been so many others I couldn’t afford, and yet loads more that weren’t for me.  The Auditorio is nothing if not versatile and can cater for a huge variety of entertainment. It’s also used for conferences and such like. Even Bill Clinton has spoken from its stage.

Inside it is as striking as outside, with a decent view from every seat, although the stage is an awful long way from the back!  What looks like decorative ceiling can be changed according to the type of acoustics necessary to the type of performance.

Although it’s been around for a few years now its striking lines still wow me, when I arrive in Santa Cruz…….wonder what that goat-herd who occupied the cottage in Vilaflor would have made of it?

Island Grafitti

Banksy eat your heart out, the art is alive and well here in Santa Cruz de Tenerife! I’ve been snapping and collecting these for a while now, probably time to share them I think.

The five to follow are near to where my son lives on the edge of Santa Cruz, almost in La Laguna, and they certainly make the walk to the garbage and recycling bins more fun than the average. It’s all part of the same mural on the wall behind the bins, and those bins got in the way, so there is a section I couldn’t get to, but it appears left to right in the order these pix appear:

Tenerife is rich in street art of all varieties, that commissioned by town halls and local governments, temporary exhibitions by prestigious artists and sculptors, creative use of discarged things (more about that another time), buskers and mime artists, and this grafitti, especially in the capital, Santa Cruz.

Grafitti (well, good grafitti created by someone with artistic talent) isn’t just art, though, it’s a social commentary, it’s the raised middle finger to convention and often a sign of rebellion.

And other times it might be quite conventional.

In the town at the heart of the island’s religious beliefs, Candelaria, even the grafitti is sacred!

In La Laguna they run to whimsy rather than history though.

In the next photo I’m not sure which appeals to me most, that wonderfully-rotting, old door or the modern artwork!

And the next, well, I’m not entirely sure if it’s advertising work that goes on behind that locked door, or a warning to motorists that your car will be towed if you overstay your welcome.

I now find, to my digust, that I’ve somehow lost my very favorite, but a close second was this very simple one. I liked them both for the same reason. They take advantage of a natural form. Someone saw something different in the form and created a a little fantasy. My favorite, the one I lost, was painted on a large boulder on the roadside, a comical face, which made me smile when I drove past. This one is far simpler, but it begs the title “Fish out of Water”, and the lesson is to sometimes look at things in a different way – stand on the desk. for those of you who understand that rallying cry!

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.

Island of Cultural Variety : Robert Capa Retrospective in Santa Cruz

And tonight a cultural treat far removed from the world of folk music, plaster saints or island flora, the Caja Canarias is hosting a retrospective of Robert Capa’s work over the next couple of months.  As with other sociocultural projects in the past, like the magnificent Enciende Africa in 2008, there are other events based on the same theme.  In the case of this exhibit, a series of movies based on the theme of photo-journalism.  I can’t help thinking that a debate, like the ones we had at Enciende Africa,  on this subject would be fascinating.  The theme of when or if it’s morally correct to continue to take photos in tragic or dangerous situations is ongoing and very interesting. These islands are home to and/or have produced an amazing amount of talent in this area, and I don’t doubt that a lively debate could have been had.

I have to admit to a certain bias and no disinterest on the subject or in the work of Capa and those who came after.  The image of the  devil-may-care (and of course devastatingly handsome) war correspondent has always stirred my soul, and Capa could have been the mould from which Hollywood crafted all such characters.  Other heroes of mine include Don McCullin and Tim Page, and I think it’s safe to say that had there been no Capa they might never have attained the heights they did.

Capa, along with Henri Cartier-Bresson, George Rodger and David Seymour founded the photo agency which became the byword for excellence and professionalism in its field, Magnum.  Back in the days of video tapes I had programs about Cartier-Bresson and Eve Arnold over which I used to drool, and which, honestly, put me off buying a proper camera for years!  I also weaned myself on Hemingway in my teens, so that era and that lifestyle, were the stuff of my dreams.   I wasn’t in the least surprised, therefore, to learn that not only was Capa a contemporary of Hemingway, but also a colleague and friend, as was my greatest literary hero, John Steinbeck.

It is this quote from the exhibit by Steinbeck about his friend’s work which has stayed with me:

‘John Steinbeck once wrote that his friend Robert Capa knew that “you cannot photograph war, because it is largely an emotion.” However, continued Steinbeck, “he did photograph that emotion by shooting beside it. He could show the horror of a whole people in the face of a child.” ‘

Capa is best known as a “war photographer”, and he died, doing what he loved. He  stepped on a landmine in Vietnam in 1954.  In later years war photography became much more graphic, until in the present day, we think nothing of the sight of mutilated corpses and grieving parents along with our breakfast cereal.  Maybe we became so immune to photos like Capa’s, which portray powerfully the anguish of the victims of war, but  actually show us little of what being in the midst of it was like, that the art (if that is the right word) had to move up a notch, and then another and another.  Capa’s photography captures history, and has become history itself.

For this reason the exhibition can be viewed on different levels, and I fully intend to go back to take it in more deeply,  not only to admire Capa’s mastery of his craft and the window into the past, but as an insight into the history of photo-journalism.  Despite that most of the photographs depict some aspect of war, they belong to a time when a veil was drawn over the worst atrocities.  I’m not sure whether that was better or not.  It’s true that the excruciating photos both Page and McCullin, amongst others, shot in Vietnam fuelled anti-war feeling in the US, which possibly brought about a speedier end to the conflict, but, a generation on, it doesn’t seem as if reportage from Afghanistan has had a great deal of effect on us.

Tonight’s film “Triage” starring Colin Farrell highlighted the moral dilemas which journalists and, in fact, others  face in war zones, as well as the brutality and horror.  I’m newly a fan of Farrell, after seeing The Way Back (twice in one week actually – something I haven’t done since I was in my teens!), and his performance is excellent, and the movie’s message is clear, but it’s not a great film.  It lacks pace and from my limited knowledge of movies I can only blame the director.  Still, as a follow up to the exhibition it gave us plenty of pause for thought.

Photos de la Ruta de los Castillos

So no-one mentioned the deliberate mistake, then.  Well, not so much a mistake as a repetition.  When I wrote the post about La Ruta de los Castillos I panicked at the end because I thought I’d lost all my photos.  Wouldn’t have been surprising because I had to clear a load of pix off the computer to make room for new ones.  They were all supposed to transfer to the external harddrive, but I couldn’t find them there, so I decided I’d deleted them by mistake, and I used ones from a previous post.  Anyhoo – long story, short, I found them just now, so I thought I’d put them up so you can fill in any gaps my unimaginative writing might have left in your view of the place and the events.

Above is the interior courtyard of the Castillo de San Juan (Castillo Negro), with the tip of the Auditorio in the background.  As you can see, it was quite small, a lookout tower really.

Above 3 – views of the Añaga Mountains which cradle the city, and the Magnificent Calatrava Auditorium from Castillo Negro.

It was somewhere around the coastline in the above, two shots, that Nelson lost his arm.  Since he was taken directly back to his ship I don’t think anyone can say with certainty exactly where it happened, but history was certainly made along this shoreline in 1797.

Nothing to do with the castles, just I thought it was a nice shot of the Auditorio, taken from outside La Casa de la Pólvora.

Another view of El Tigre, the canon which, supposedly, made the devastating shot.  Our super guide, Omyra in the green uniform top there.

El Castillo de San Andres, another watchtower, marking the end of the fortification.  Although the fasionable beach of Las Terresitas lies just beyond this structure, it’s a man-made beach, and back in the 18th century would have been too rocky and dangerous for boats to land.

Where Admiral Nelson Lost His Arm

Horatio Nelson is one of the great heroes of English history, and one of the few who has remained so, despite the uncomfortable truths which have come out about other historical figures, who were equally famous in my school day, but whose reputations seem a bit murky these days.  Even his scandalous love life seems to have been forgiven in view of his overall gallantry. That he combined all the characteristics we crave in a hero speaks volumes about how the battle of Santa Cruz was conducted and its aftermath.

Few people here today, of any nationality, realize how heavily fortified the city was back then, so little of the ramparts which extended from more-or-less where the Parque Maritimo now is right along the coast to the edge of what is now Las Terresitas Beach, remain, but the Museums of Tenerife resolved to fill the gaps in our knowledge, and do so very ably, and it is a tribute to Lord Nelson that the guide, on a recent Saturday when I went with some friends, on “La Ruta de los Castillos”,  spoke of him with what amounted almost to affection……….if only today’s leaders and generals were such gentlemen, were so intelligent or so well-mannered!

La Ruta de los Castillos is a fairly recent addition (2,000) to the network of activities and museums administered by the excellent Museum service of the island.  The advantage of taking “the tour” was going to be that we would have access to places which were not open to the general public, and I should add right here, before going any further, that on telling a Canarian friend of a friend about the excursion the following day, she laughed at the name, and indeed, it is misleading.  These buildings were not, actually, castles in the medieval sense of the building, where people lived, but a fortification to protect the port of Santa Cruz from invasion from the sea.  So, that point clarified, one recent Saturday we met our guide outside the Auditorium, having booked the tour most efficiently over the phone.

Our tour began at the Castillo de San Juan, or the Black Castle, as it is nicknamed, where my second myth was shot down.  I’d been told the nickname came from the fact that slaves had been kept there en route to the Americas, but Omaira, our lovely guide, explained that that was just a rumor, and the name came from the color of the stone used in its construction.  These days it sits quietly between Calatrava’s magnificent Auditorium and the Parque Maritimo, where the city dwellers while away their summer weekends.

It is, arguably, the only feature which really still resembles anything like a castle, with turrets on the landside where shooters could take cover to fire below should a boat make landfall, and easily identifiable positions where cannon were placed.  There are also, now here’s a historical note I’ve never considered in touring an ancient building before, latrines (i.e. holes in the wall)  up on the ramparts, because, as the guide said, there isn’t exactly time to go to the bathroom in the middle of a battle!  It was much smaller than it looked from the outside, and was used mainly for storage of arms, although the gunpowder, for obvious reasons was kept in the close by Casa de Pólvora, which we weren’t able to inspect because the locks had been changed and Omaira didn’t have a key.

From there we were bussed in air conditioned splendor to El Castillo de San Cristóbal. Again, it was, simply, a part of the massive ramparts, but perhaps the most interesting because it was the nearest to the city of San Cristóbal de la Laguna, which was then capital of the island, and was the largest part of the structure. The outline of the original walls has, very cleverly, been preserved in mosaic form by the architects of the ornamental pool which is now at the heart of La Plaza de España.

 

If you look at the edge of the pool here, you can see a black line, which meets with another one at right angles in the water, these lines denote where the original walls of the fort were.

What we saw were the foundations, now buried beneath the Plaza. We descended a short staircase to the small museum, which opened to the public this summer. Here we could see parts of the original walls, a video and lots of pictures and information, which I resolved to go back another time to see in-depth. Taking a tour like this is useful, but your time in contemplating anything, let alone taking snaps, is limited. Had we been alone and non-Spanish speaking then, as English speakers, it would still have been interesting as translations were good, and the staff charming.

It was in attempting to land and take this part of the fortification that the British fate was sealed, and the big draw here, is El Tigre, reputedly the very same canon which separated Lord Nelson from his arm. Whether true or not, the canon is in a grand state of repair, and makes a fine exhibit as the centerpiece of this little museum.

From San Cristóbal the next stop is just outside the modern city limits – Castillo de Paso Alto, from its top, an impressive view of the Atlantic, which must have been even more impressive back when, before all the industrial units of the modern port were there. This was the point at which the British forces were first supposed to land, under cover of darkness, signalling the beginning of the Battle of Santa Cruz. However, Spanish vigilance prevented their first attempt, and the second attempt the following day, though, successful, was a disaster in terms of how much the British were able to transport from ships to shore.

Thence to the final stop – el Castillo de San Andrés, just before the celebrated Las Terresitas beach. Cordoned off and tumble-down it’s just a shadow of its former splendor, as, were all of these buildings. Nevertheless, back in July of 1797 they were so well-organized and defended that they handed Nelson the only defeat of his illustrious career.

Such was the gentlemanly state of play in those days, that after the truce was signed by triumphant Spanish General Antonio Gutiérrez and his foes he made a present to them of a cask of my favorite tipple – Malmsey. The British, it is said, responded with a keg of fine ale, and Gutiérrez asked Nelson if he would kindly stop off in Cadíz on his way home to report the state of play. Wouldn’t it be nice if the world was still like that?!

Re-enactors recreate the Battle of Santa Cruz

The tour wasn’t all about Nelson, the “father” of the British Royal Navy, Admiral Blake had had a more successful visit in 1656, when he destroyed 16 Spanish ships, and Admiral  Jennings in 1706 had been rebuffed by Spanish defences, though that battle is far less known than Nelson’s attempt. For this reason the shield of Santa Cruz shows three lion heads, symbolizing the three triumphs over the English enemy……ok, they don’t look like lions to me either, but I Googled griffins to be sure, and they’re not griffins.

More about that shield and more about Santa Cruz in general another day, this one was about the tour, which concentrated mainly on that period of the island’s history. Marks out of 10? Hmm, that’s a hard one, let me describe it this way:

Guide 11 out of 10
Driver and bus 10 out of 10
Information supplied 10 ut of 10 (there could have been more but it would have been too much and the tour was just the right length).
Delivery of information 11 out of 10. The guide was interactive, encouraging us to answer questions and using modern, teaching techniques to explain the information.
Castillo de San Juan 7 out of 10. It’s well preserved and should, really be the best exhibit, but is clearly used as a rubbish dump by the local population, and the ayuntamiento can’t be bothered to clean it up, regardless of the impression it gives to tourists. It was full of plastic bottles, broken glass, the usual.
La Casa de la Pólvora Can’t say, because  the locks had been changed (by the ayuntamiento and they had failed to liaise with the museum service to make sure they had the new keys).
Castillo de San Cristóbal 10 out 10. Nicely restored, pleasant staff, translations, good info why on earth couldn’t the rest be this standard confounds the imagination!
Castillo de Paso Alto 6 out of 10 Even more rubbish than in Castillo San Juan. Absolutely disgusting.
Castillo San Andrés 7 out of 10. I can understand more easily why this might be perceived to be a suitable repository for rubbish (not that ANYWHERE outside of the correct containers is correct), because it’s very tumble-down, nevertheless the sheer AMOUNT of rubbish was amazing and sad.

Our guide was obviously distressed and embarrassed by this use of historical sites as dumping grounds for rubbish (most of which should be in the recycling bins anyway), and I felt for her. The museums seem to be making the most of what they have here. It’s an interesting story, especially if you are either Spanish or English, and the service is to be highly, highly commended on what they do, and how it is organized. From first ringing to book, when they kept me in touch with an unexpected change in date, to the guide’s refusal of a tip everything apart from the rubbish was first class. How the Ayuntamiento can either allow this to happen in the first place or not get the places cleaned up amazes me.

I’m a bit of a history buff, so I still felt it was worthwhile, but one of my companions was really put off (the other two I haven’t really had chance to chat with since then) and I had the impression that the Spanish people who comprised the rest of the group were pretty disgusted too. There was talk of complaints. Shame to end on that note. The Ayuntamiento of Santa Cruz is a weird thing. It can organize something as magnificent as the annual Carnaval, but can’t clear up its streets.  It can commission something as outstanding as the Auditorio, but can’t get its shops to open up on a Sunday for cruise visitors (whose business, supposedly it is trying to encourage).

I don’t want to jump on that whinging bandwagon.  I try to look at this as if I was a tourist, and I would have a pretty bad impression of the population of Tenerife from this tour, but an excellent impression of the museum service.