TANGO in TENERIFE
means the dance, not an orange drink, and last weekend you could have learned
how to do it. Well, you might not have become proficient in just two days, but
the course was only called Tango Encuentro – Meeting the Tango. It was in
Adeje, our neighbouring Principality in which you will find Las Americas, and although I didn't go - my days of such energetic dancing are over - it is good to know it's still going strong.
Then, having worked up
an appetite with the Tango, you and your dancing partner could have taken
yourselves to a
TAPAS BAR. One bar-restaurant in our town,
El Candil de
Abuela (Grandma’s Kitchen) serves tapas. In fact, every time you buy a drink,
Pepe brings out a little dish with a TASTY TIDBIT – bread with TOMATO and
jamon, or spicy sausage on a stick, or my favourite bocarrones (anchovies in
olive oil and garlic).Don't eat too many if you're planning a meal there - the steaks Maria cooks are out of this world.
If you don’t want a
full meal you can buy a tapa – that just means a small plate – which with a
glass of wine and some bread makes a decent meal in itself. The delicacies on
offer might include albondigas
(meatballs), pollo (chicken), pulpo (octopus), ensaladilla (like Russian salad
with tuna), or carne con papas (Canarian stew with potatoes). The range of tapas on the island is only
limited by the imagination of the restauranteurs. Several towns run an annual
Fiesta de Copas y Tapas, where you do the rounds of the participating bars and,
for a ridiculously cheap set price, you have a glass of wine and a tapa of
their latest invention.
TIGAIGA, TENEGUIA,
TIMANFAYA. When this small TOWN was originally TAGGED onto the few houses
that constituted the hamlet of Cho, the architect must have been drunk. He gave
the blocks of apartments such similar names that it is difficult to tell them
apart. There are 4 Tigaiga blocks, 2 Teneguia, and the Timanfaya ones have letters A to P. We’ve been here for twelve years - we live in Tigaiga 1 - and we still get it wrong – no wonder
the mail goes astray.
TORO = BULL.
Fortunately bull-fighting became illegal in the Canary Islands decades ago, but
by the road from the motorway into our town there stands an old bull-ring.
Before it was fenced off I explored
the ruin. There were two bull-rings – tiny compared with the huge arenas one
sees on Spanish TV – surrounded by concrete tables and benches covered with
mosaic tiles. I found bars, and what was probably a kitchen, and toilets. Round
the exterior of the building were the animal pens – dark cells with battered
walls that still echoed with terrified bellows and stank of sweat and fear.
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