Ola!

Ola mi amigos. Que tal?



We are currently in "Santa Cruz de Tener Reef." One of the Canary Islands. We reached there at 6am yesterday. The morning we had a crew briefing about how to get transport etc. Our usual port is being occupied by a Spanish naval vessel, so we're currently at a port under some construction and a little farther out of town.

From our still sea-salty windows, the towns look like white snow in valleys of the jagged volcanic rock mountains. But up close you see it's towns perched in between these mountains. The stucco buildings and yellows and browns give it a distinct Spanish feel. I sat up on deck seven and tried to drink it all in; the perfect temperature that felt like fall in New York, the sunlight I had to squint through to see the towns, the silence and stillness of the ship. It gave me a kind of refreshing energy.

Friday night we went out to eat. We caught a bus to the more central part of the island and began wondering looking for el restaurante. We saw several other groups of Mercy Ships people. And stopped at a little restaurant. It is so nice not to have to rely on the ship for bathrooms and food and lighting etc. We found ourselves comparing everything. We got water in blue glass bottles with wine glasses. And the water wasn't brown like on the sail. And they served the food on fancy plates that I wasn't going to wash. We didn't order rice. :) I found myself desperately trying to drink it all in. It seemed impossible to fully enjoy the taste of the food. I was too busy trying to enjoy the soft Spanish music and the glowing white lights decking every tree and the alley filled with red awnings and little corner shops and restaurants. And how every woman looked like she had walked out of a fashion magazine and the little dogs on leashes and the couples strolling up and down and the simple aura of it all. I could have just sat there for hours gazing around. It was exactly how I always imagined Italy to be like, except, of course, Spanish.

It all felt so dreamily extravagant. One part of me wants to embrace this elegant European culture, and another part of me looks at it all with skepticism as I recall the dust and heat and living in Liberia.

We went to have ice cream. I suppose every culture and place has it's own unique way of serving ice cream. In New York we stop by a little ice cream stand called Donelle's before we turn into our road. They serve two flavors of soft ice cream, depending on what day it is. And only in the summer. In Liberia they sell ice cream in metal carts that they wheel around. It is usually yellow and pink and served with little tiny scoops in little tiny cones, but it tastes like the best ice cream in the world. In Tener Reef Spanish men in bow ties sell it in little ice cream shops with the flavors lined up under the glass and big sugar cones.

It's all refreshing and new to me and it's easy to understand why it's a great respite place after an outreach and before the new one in Benin.