The bus driver looks perplexed. So do I as I attempt to pay my 1,65€ single to Santa Brigida. “Santa BriG-ida”, I enunciate slowly. Embarrassingly, despite living here nine years, I have to write the name down. “Ah, Santa BriHee-da,” he reads out loud with the softest of Gs, giving me a masterclass in Canarian Castilian phonetics.

The road to Santa Brigida

Global’s 303 wends its way past the main university complex, heading towards the centre of the island. It’s a picturesque route which takes in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria’s stockbroker belt of Tafira Alta and Monte Lentiscal. The latter feels like an out-of-season alpine resort, way up high but devoid of snow.

Spa days

Although it’s no Bañaderos where the females of the native nobles used to retire to take the waters, Santa Brigida’s polideportivo, sports centre, boasts excellent swimming pools, sauna, and steam room. I used to go there on a Sunday morning with my two eldest sons after playing five-a-side-football, before the birth of their younger brother. I.e when waking up at seven o’clock of a weekend was considerably easier.

Market activity

Afterwards, the boys would amuse themselves in the playground of the Mercadillo de Santa Brigida whilst I shopped. Despite not having the range of the market in nearby Vega de San Mateo, I never went away without a loaf of rustic bread. Along with a wodge of some local cheese.

All the wine

If ever I return to playing five a side, I’ll follow up my cheesy purchases with a visit to the recently-reopened Casa del Vino. As well as a museum and restaurant, the House of Wine offers bottles to go. I can feel a cheese-and-wine party coming on.

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The first time I visited Puerto Rico, I was working, interviewing Dr Paul Beresford-Jones and his wife, nurse Mary. They’d just relocated their British Medical Clinic from Las Palmas to this south-west resort. Despite their old premises lying next to the capital’s British Club they lacked expat/tourist clients. This doesn’t surprise me that much as when I launched Going Local in Gran Canaria there, most people who came along were Spanish.

Unfried Green Tomatoes

This time, I headed to Puerto Rico from an extended (in size rather than time) family break in La Aldea de San Nicolas. Arriving early, I began the day with an English breakfast. Except they served me unripe tomatoes which, to make matters worse, weren’t even cooked.

Spanglish

In the Caribbean country of Puerto Rico, the official languages are English and Spanish. In Puerto Rico, the resort, it feels much the same. Along with Playa del Ingles, Puerto Rico’s a holiday spot which targets the 18-30 crowd. Although, dodgy brekky aside, they made this 30+ visitor welcome.

Blast Off

Puerto Rico didn’t exist until 1969 when construction began. A year earlier, workmen started to break up the mountain. This is the type of place where you eat and drink in shopping centres, centros comerciales, and after browning on the beach, I set off to the nearest one to watch Chelsea lose to Southampton.

Sahara Beach

Where the brochures go big on Maspalomas’ famous dunes including sand blown over from Sahara, they’re rather more discreet when it comes to Puerto Rico’s link to Africa. For this 250-metre-horsehoe stretch of sand is man-made. Instead of grains from the famous desert arriving with the wind, they’re imported to transform a pebbly beach into a smoother, sandier one.

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I’m a man, not a machine. But when I’m hiking, I need a break every now and again. So that’s how I found myself in Cactualdea which, located off Tocodoman’s Carretera del Hoya, prompts many a vehicle to leave this main road otherwise known as the GC-200.

Turn off, tune in, drop out

The GC-200 connects La Aldea de San Nicolas, where I was staying, with Puerto de Mogan, where I was heading towards. But Cactualdea offers an altogether different route. One which transcends the boundaries of time and sends you hurtling back to the epoch of the cave-dwelling canarii.

The Troggs

The canarii, many believe, were landlocked Berber slaves who stayed on the island after being exiled in GC because they had no shipbuilding knowledge. Neither had they been exposed to the invention of the wheel, it seems. Especially in the sphere of pottery, where they made pots with their bare hands.

Caves for graves

As well as sleeping in caves, on beds fashioned from leather and plants, they’d bury their dead in them. Accompanying the corpse were the deceased’s personal belongings. These were placed in ceramic pots and then filled with seeds.

Getting your five a day

There are in excess of 1,200 different species of cactus growing at Cactualdea. They hail from locations as diverse as Bolivia and Madagascar. Enjoy a fruit juice with a twist on Cactualdea’s restaurant terrace, as the eatery’s signature drink is zumo de tunos indios.

Open all hours

It’s not quite a 24-hour establishment, but Cactualdea is open every day from 10:00am to 6:00pm. The price is 6 Euros which includes the opportunity to explore 15,000 square metres of caves and gardens. Although the coach-tour parties seemed content enough to soak up the sun, sipping on juice. A pit stop provides the ideal opportunity to refuel, after all.

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The other day I ran into a fellow expat. She asked me where I lived in the city and I replied, “Arenales”. The look I got in return was blanker than the cheque Jose Mourinho’s rumoured to be receiving on his expected return to manage Chelsea FC.

Arenales: the sands of time

Despite being formed in 1478, it wasn’t until the 19th century that the city of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria expanded northwards. As a result of the recently-built port, Puerto de la Luz, new barrios were built. One of which was Arenales, sands, which was what the land once was. In reality, it resembled a marshy wetland more.

Going local in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria

There’s not much for tourists to see in Arenales. It’s principally a residential district after all.  Whilst it hasn’t got the obvious appeal of historic Vegueta and Triana nor Canteras’ urban beach, at least it’s within walking distance of the trio. And I type as a non-driver.

Arenales: a reduced tour

Arenales’ one and only attraction is Casa Africa. It’s one and only landmark is El Obelisco, which was unveiled in 1978 as a symbol of Spain’s transition to democracy.  There was talk of building a car park directly below what’s known as Constitution Square. Plans were shelved, however, as it would have meant the uprooting of the pair of Indian laurels, nesting ground of blackbirds and pigeons, you see in the picture.

All of the lights

Despite being a place to live more than party, the bars on Canalejas are a great place to start or end a pub crawl. Meanwhile, on Senador Castillo Olivares, Cafeteria Yeray, with outside seating, is a popular venue to watch televised football. If you want to shoot some pool, head to Cafeteria Colón on Suarez Naranjo which also has an old-school billiards table. For a quieter night out, check out the free non-dubbed films shown at the ULPG’s Obelisco base.

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West of Puerto de Mogan, there isn’t another holiday spot. It’s the end of the line. A line which starts 35 minutes by car i.e 34km to the east; in one of Gran Canaria’s original resorts, San Agustin. One that has only existed since 1988, the date when Puerto de Mogan evolved from fishing village to plush marina.

Hail Cesar

Cesar Manrique was one of Lanzarote’s most famous artists, an architect who convinced island authorities to build no taller than two-stories high. His influence is palpable in Puerto de Mogan, which was actually designed by Malaga-born Rafael Neville, easily one of the island’s classier resorts. Where the only shocking thing is the pink bougainvillea, clambering over simple white-washed properties.

In the garlic on Puerto de Mogan

“Estar en el ajo” is a Spanish expression meaning you know the score. Its English translation, In the Garlic, is the title of a related guide penned by long-term expats Valerie Collins and Theresa O’Shea to teach the most clueless newbie how to wise up like a native. Puerto de Mogan was where I introduced my parents to eating raw garlic as I ordered tomates aliñados on a lunch out.

Recipe corner

This starter translates as seasoned tomatoes and is easy enough to replicate at home. Slice ripe tomatoes not too thinly nor too thickly either. Lay out on a plate and cover with chopped garlic, olive oil, vinegar, and plenty of sea salt. Some eateries like to add basil or cumin too, but I find if you do that, you end up with over-seasoned tommies.

Night swimming

I was in Puerto de Mogan recently as I headed back to my temporary base of La Aldea from Puerto Rico as late afternoon merged into evening. It was during balmy Semana Santa and, as you can see, the resort’s chic/petite beach was proving a popular way to beat the heat. As we edge closer towards summer, temperatures have hit the 40s. Making the surf an even more attractive watery cooler, even when the sun starts to go down.

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Another Friday, another date with Global buses at San Telmo. This time I know where I’m going: Arucas’ Jardin de la Marquesa on the 206 via Bañaderos. Except the 206 I get on insists I’m off to Ba?aderos, clearly the bus’ computer system is English, and makes no mention of Arucas at all.

Caribbean Canarias

It’s a typically muggy north-coast day. There are clouds but they’re doing little to keep the temperature down. I’ve never been to the Caribbean, but whenever I head to Arucas with its banana plantations I feel like I should have my passport stamped. A 10-minute drive from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, aka Little Havana, sees you island-hop to Jamaica.

Jardin de la Marquesa: GC’s Eden Project in Miniature

On approaching the Marquess of Arucas’ garden, it seems to have little in common with Tim Smit’s Cornwall tourist magnet. Neither is the similarity that clear after I’ve paid 6 Euros to enter, as there are more staff than punters. However, there are 2,500+ species of tropical and subtropical flora in the Jardin de la Marquesa. And, unlike at the Eden Project, there’s not a greenhouse in sight.

Around the world, around the world

The island’s temperate climate means that species from a number of continents can flourish, growing naturally without any need for hothouses. And so there’s papaya from Colombia, bird of paradise flower from South Africa, and hibiscus from China. To name but three.

Las Hesperides

Another name for the Jardin de la Marquesa is Las Hesperides. In classical Greek mythology, the Hesperides were nymphs who tended an idyllic garden in the far west of the world, a location many believe to be the Canary Islands. Sadly, there are no nymphs on my visit although a peacock (the Spanish call them the royal turkey, the pavo real, which seems fitting in this noble setting) flashes me as I make my way out. All in all, an odd end to an odd start.

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My daily routine has changed somewhat since I penned my Parque Doramas post. The paternal grandmother of my niece and nephews now takes them to school. And Dani, having entered secondary, walks by himself. Which leaves Alex, me, and, er, Pueblo Canario.

Time won’t crawl

My morning job is, believe it or not, writing articles. So I usually walk as far as the bus stop with Alex. He then rides the 2, 25, or 81 to school by himself, although I always wait with him until one arrives.

Pueblo Canario: The journey home

Alex comes home for lunch. So I pick him up from school and we walk back through Pueblo Canario. This is a faux Canarian village designed by architect Miguel Fernandéz, brother of Nestor Martín Fernandéz de la Torre, an artist whose museum is housed in the same complex. It’s a copy, much like the Lopesan Villa del Conde in Meloneras which does a mean impression of Agüimes, right down to the recreation of the town’s neoclassical church in the lobby.

Song and dance

On weekdays, the Pueblo Canario restaurant does solid rather than spectacular business in providing a menú del día. It’s altogether more popular on a Sunday morning. Where locals perform traditional Canarian folk music. The timple, the Canarian pygmy guitar, is very much in evidence, along with dancing which wouldn’t look out of place at a traditional celidh. A stroll through here makes me think of my beloved London which famously is less a city and more a collection of individual villages.

It’s a beautiful night

The Pueblo church is an in-demand venue for weddings, particularly those marrying for the second time. Indeed, I crammed into the service for my brother-in-law Octavio’s union with Sole. For the latter it was a nice day for a white wedding, for the former a nice day to start again.

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Walking along the GC-200 to the Cruz de Tasartico from La Aldea de San Nicolás is one uphill slog. Trekking alongside it, it’s no consolation to dwell on Newton’s law of “What goes up, must come down”. Sure, on my return from Tasarte, I’d be doing it in reverse. My ascent’s not made any easier by Canarian spring temperatures being 40 degrees higher than UK ones. Nor by being subject to taunts of “animo”, essentially “look lively”, from passing motorists.

Level playing field

After passing the turnoff to Tasartico, the GC-200 flattens out as it snakes towards Tasarte and beyond. So I’m able to pick up a bit of speed. As I continue my training for a forthcoming hike of Portugal’s Rota Vicentina.

Football crazy in Tasarte

The Spanish famously love the beautiful game. And Gran Canaria’s shores gave birth to veteran midfield genius, Juan Carlos Valerón and Manchester City star, David Silva. But it’s still some surprise to see the spanking new stadium of UD Tasarte San Clemente, think UK village team. Costing 500.000 Euros, it was constructed in 2009. Yes, pre-crisis Spain.

Beach bums

Taking the right into Tasarte, I continue down, down, deeper, and down to its playa. Where a good number of Las Palmas’ population seem to have migrated from for their Easter holidays. There are no hotels of to speak off in Tasarte, though there are some basic beachside apartments and a campsite too.

Standing room only

It isn’t my being vegetarian that’s the only thing stopping me sampling Restaurante La Oliva’s legendary Ropa Vieja de Pulpo, a Canarian dish classically prepared with chicken. As there’s no room for me inside or out, let alone my rucksack. So I piggyback my companion to the beach instead. If I’m unable to beat the heat with a cubata, a dip in the Atlantic’s the next best option.

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You might not be at all peckish when you arrive in the north-west’s Santa Maria de Guia, more commonly known as Guia. But you’ll soon feel a rumble in your tummy. Getting off the Global 105 bus at the Calle Lomo Guillén stop, I looked opposite and saw Bar Tiscamanita, widely celebrated for its Ropa Vieja. This is a traditional Canarian dish which the Tiscamanita chef makes using the classic ingredients of chickpeas, chicken, and Morcillo (blood sausage), with sauteed potatoes providing the perfect accompaniment.

Market square

Heading towards Guia’s main plaza, I turned into Calle Marqués del Muni. Here the smell of the chicken roasting at the Asadero de Pollo mingled with the aroma of Canarian doughnuts at the Churreria next door. I walked past La Tacita where I once enjoyed the finest battered courgettes, to the extent that I bought up all the ones they had left to take home with me. Before reaching a Sunday market selling the region’s famous cheeses.

Cheesy does it

Guia, one of the most preserved GC municipalities in terms of architecture, is renowned for two types of cheese: Queso de flor (flower cheese which is curdled with the head of a thistle) and Queso de cuajo (rennet cheese) which includes dried and shredded stomach obtained from a sheep or kid. As a vegetarian, I’m mercifully restricted to being able to eat the former. Both though are blended cheeses, primarily made with sheep’s milk mixed with cow’s or goat’s milk, or sometimes both.

A recipe for success

An elaborate process sees thistle heads which are picked well after they’ve bloomed soaked in water for 12 hours. The brown-coloured liquid is then added to the already strained milk, taking up to two hours to curdle. After separating the curds and whey, Miss-Muffet style, the cheese is cut and left to dry before being placed in a mould. Pressed by hand and salted both sides, it ages in a sala de maduración stored on wooden shelves.

Cheese fest

So crazy are the locals for their cheese, think a town full of Wallaces rather than Gromits, that they hold a Fiesta del Queso each year. Held from late April to early May, the population dress in Canarian costume to pay homage to their queso. As well as lots of tasting and judging, there is plenty of folk music and dancing along with a fair amount of drinking. Welcome to Gran Canaria’s Wensleydale.

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Actually, Gran Canaria doesn’t do lakes. But it’s home to 69 reservoirs. Many of these, including the remote Presa de Chira, are set in stunning terrain, in landscapes to rival Wainwright Country.

Water works

Rainfall is scarce on the island and its soil’s got more pores open than a sauna-crazy Finn. So the islanders built presas to conserve as much water as possible. Providing storage space for the treated water created by desalination plants which makes the Atlantic ocean drinkable. With the result that there’s now a reservoir for every 25m² of GC.

And if you know your history

Reservoirs on Gran Canaria mainly date back to 1912. When the Ley de Cabildos (Councils Law) was passed. Although the famous engineer Juan León y Castillo had already been constructing them 10 years prior.

Carp life

As a totally natural way of restricting the number of aquatic weeds in the presas, they started to introduce carp to the likes of Presa de Chira. These monsters of the deep, which can weigh up to over 55lb (25kg), are the underwater version of a lawnmower. And their population has multiplied, leading to Gran Canaria establishing itself as a popular carp-fishing destination.

Shore leave on Presa de Chira

Which is how I found myself cutting loose on the banks of Presa de Chira in the company of Carp Gran Canaria, having been commissioned to write a father-and-sons-type feature for Thomas Cook Travel magazine. CGC’s owner Dave Beecham is the record holder of the largest common carp caught on the island. And he and guide Derek were the perfect teachers, schooling me and my two eldest sons Alex and Dani in the subtle art of carp fishing. Until we fell for the pastime. Hook, line, and indeed, sinker-style.

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