2003 Gran Canaria: Puerto de Rico & Puerto de Mogán

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Gran Canaria

 

this trip's overview

(about the Islands)

SFO to LHR

stranded!

LHR to LHR

spending Iberia's money

baggage arrives

along the beachfront

visiting el Medico

Isaac's first haircut

R & R

Faro Maspalomas

cockroaches!

San Fernando

All over...

Puerto de Rico & Puerto de Mogán

el penultimo

on to London

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2003 Gran Canaria: Puerto de Rico & Puerto de Mogán

Saturday 25 January 2003

It's close to midnight. I'm writing this at the DRAGSTOR bar/café, across the street from the Apartamentos Atlantis Uno. This leg of our trip is rapidly growing to a close, and as usual it's too soon (although a part of me is thinking fondly of our cozy cottage). Three full days, less packing time, and we're off to a wintertime London...

Today we decided to throw caution to the winds and take the bus to Puerto de Rico and Puerto de Mogán, two towns on the south edge of Gran Canaria. The herky-jerky style of bus driving really isn't the best for the kids (or, as I'm to find out, my wife) but it's a cooler day, the scirocco is blowing sand from the Sahara, and the beach seems like a bad bet.

The 32 bus stops across the street from us, at the Centro Comercial Yumbo. Convenient.

The first thing we pass is the cemetary, crowded with mourners waiting for a funeral to arrive. The motorcade passes by our bus a short while later.

We leave the developed Playa del Inglés and Maspalomas behind us, as we head out to the undeveloped arid rocky landscape that is Gran Canaria.

In years past all these painstakingly terraced hills - a local saying is "the fields grow rocks" - would have been covered with tomato plants. Somehow it's no longer a viable business. I wonder what erosion will do here, and I miss the plants and the fresh, tasty tomatoes.

Near the southern tip of the island is the cement factory, an engine of the machine of progress. At least it seems to be progress.

We drive through towards (and pass) the town of Puerto de Rico; we'll get back to it later.

I never realized that Rose isn't fond of stop-and-go buses. She's really not enjoying this ride. Lila wanted to sleep, and screamed for a while before nursing and crashing. That didn't help matters.

We barely recognise the Puerto de Mogán. They've built another ring of tourist shops around the older town, and the bus drops us off a half-kilometer further away than we thought. And they built this bridge over the creek which empties into the ocean.

Big Brother is watching you. You have been warned.

Here's the older part of Puerto Mogán. A maze of twisty little passages, all alike. I love it here.

The kids are hungry, so we stop at a German-run Italian café. Isaac is tired, and moody, and doesn't eat much. Lila is frenetic, and attacks her spaghetti.

Rather than take a bus back to Puerto Rico, we jump on a boat. This is much more fun for all of us. Here's a look back at the new part of Puerto Mogán.

This is the kind of boat Dad and I went shark-fishing so many years ago. They parked far off the rocky coast, and let us swim. "Stay near the boat", they advised, "too close to the shore you'll step on the sea urchins and too far out you'll encounter the sharks." It was a great time, and the shark we caught were butchered and cooked into a paprica stew for our lunch. Excellent.

From the boat - years ago and now - one can see these caves. Some are said to be inhabited by hermits. In others we can see the bright tents of vacationing tourists. There are lots of car- and tent-camping on this shore.

Lila loves the boat ride, becomming mesmerized by it all.

Isaac never slows down, trying to take it all in.

Omi Marga sat aft, amidst the rowdy crowd (who are toasting us with the sangria provided by the boat's crew).

Here are some panoramas of the construction being done around the towns of Puerto Mogán and Puerto Rico. In one place they've imported white sand to make a picturesque beach (like they've done in Carmel, California).

It's hard to grok the scale of what I'm seeing to get from the upper resort areas to the beach can be a half-hour walk downhill. I presume there are elevators and escalators everywhere, because I can't see the tourists humping uphill for an hour each evening.

Omi Marga is unhappy with the construction. I'm ambivalent. I generally don't like the descruction of older areas, but building tourist facilities on a previously rocky and unused area doesn't bother me too much. And this is a tourist destination. I mean, Playa del Inglés was small and homey before they built Atlantis and Yumbo...

Aboard the boat, Isaac and Rose have made it to the bridge. I'm not sure the captain knows what to make of his new additions.

We finish up our day back on land. Omi Marga heads home before us, and we swim in the wonderful waters of Puerto Rico. On our way back to the bus Isaac spots this car with two steering wheels. He won't let us pass it by, insisting that he needs to drive with Lila.

What's next, you ask? Well, it's musing on the topic of el penultimo.

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