An one of my excursions day at random. I could to be one anyone of these children, we have the common denominator of having been in Lanzarote and it having happened chachi piruli! We go hipersupermegachachi
My parents had taken to a black sand beach. The skin of my still off-white feet, consequence of the long winter periods that happen encalcetados and dull… Or of summers that are looked like your winter station to us. It caused surprise, surprise to me and towards laughing to me when comparing them with the color of the flour seeing them in similar resistance; until that moment the white had not fallen that was me skin. The target-black resistance next to the brightness of the wet skin, therefore made think me.
Good, he was customary to see them also white by outside, clear encalcetados and dulled, when of the place that I come, they are buried me in the snow that, flake to flake and quiet the sky gray-target has deposited on the grass of the garden of me house. In my entrances and exits, to run to the cat or behind the ball. That the day that I do not wear the rackets and ramplo with the sleigh to the hill of the park of alongside. It asked to me me servira this sleigh-table to amuse to me with the waves in Lanzarote? Because the device to seem, looks like. In the end I forget to me in house.
From where I come, we are customary to the snow and to live with normality with this element, but much funny that the gray and rainy days. Who would see all means “depres” by the happy climate which we suffer. What it amuses to us more is to throw snow blows to us and to make dolls with this element. Especially in the “fratricidal confrontations” between my colleagues and our respective sisters, normal!
Until we arrive at chiki-chiki, we have left awhile… ja!
A remarkable difference of whiteness the product.
Here alongside, also there are abundant white piles that woke up my curiosity. Without doubting, the question so that my ancestors removed to me from my ignorance: “… That it makes here those piles of “snow”…”. My sister the major, “… don’t be “totorota”, that is salt…” The salt, product and remainder that is once the water of sea has evaporated. It is used like cooking condiment. With time I have been found out that there is different type from salt, according to its origin. But this is “born” in the Rural Lanzarote alongside the sea, near the coast seated in the interior. You know that of this recondite place, for those times, one exported great amounts of salt by its quality and abundance?
Entertained in the game that makes possible the free time to me of my festive days in this place, for me strangely sunny at the same time as accompanied by bluish skies, playing, playing… creating, creating helped by my dreams and thoughts and invited by the landscape, it bottles to me in oradar a hole. Close, this ocean that has said to me that Atlantic is called: wave goes, wave comes.
From time to time I find a olivino, green by all means. The olivina is the one that when starting off the pump, is seen like a lump, to a slight pressure is disturbed.
Chachos -boys- that I lose myself and I forget to me my “hole”. Paradoxicalally, their walls did not close, but it was become greater and deep. It gave perfect account me of which it was to me entering in a new world in which it began to me to find comfortable and amazingly in a friendly way accompanied. In agreement it was sinking to me, oyendo in increase went away murmurs of admiration and some noises similar to applause: Where this taking to this passage… the footpath to me of my dreams?
They already took to me to visit Montañas del Fuego -Mountains of the Fire-, Parque Nacional de Timanfaya -National Park of Timanfaya-. I compared it but not: Little heat, so I saw there…
Also we visited the Jameos del Agua. Either. There the visitors we admired in silence, but we did not applaud…
From almost La Cueva de los Verdes -the Cave of the Green- ones is touched and happens here the same: Everybody peculiar one and in silence. Between the admiration and the surprise before powerful `N’aturaleza.
In the way between both emblematic places of the Rural Lanzarote, we were Jardin de Cactus -the Garden of Cactus-. Here shouts would be due to hear, whines… supposing that our innkeepers fell on one of them. But either… Never there is a mishap, all we go with well-taken care of and we followed the indications. We are good chic@s. -boys/girls-
To the warehouses of the Geria with its Museo del Vino Bodegas el Grifo -Museum of Vino in the Warehouses the Faucet-? To El Monumento al Campesino – the Monument of the Farmer-? Either, either, it did not fry, it fried.
To El Mirador del Rio -the Viewpoint of the River-, Famara, Playas de -Beaches of- Papagayo… In the “hotel”, stables of the dromedarios “camels” of Uga…? Nothing don’t mention it.
To Los Hervideros- the Swarms that estan located close and today the sea this “calm chicha”?
To El Lago de los Clicos -the Lake of the Clicos– located a pair of kilometres beyond?
To El Mirador del Rio -the Viewpoint of the River-? That this very high, does not arrive anything there. Sálvo some twin-engine plane that cross a river below us. Rare coincidence.
To that it cheers tumult and admired row this taking my tunnel to me? Of Las Salinas del Janubio -the Salt mines of a Janubio-… to where?
By the way, habre done had volcanic instead of a gallery? But well yes…
The creators-i’n’ventores copy themselves of ‘N’aturaleza
La’N’zarote – ña
Everything is La’N’zarote