2 island skylines + 7 days of rain waiting

Yesterday the skies here in Lanzarote island looked like a light installation in mutlitple layers. I went for a longer drive, and it was so amazing both to see the different regions of the island, and this almost magic sky. Here's my favourite photo from the drive, with a curious sky line:



One more day, then the island time is coming to an end.... Back home, grey and rainy skies are waiting. The forecast actually is all-rainy for Germany: 7 days of rain in the next 7 days, and a storm on Monday. So every sun hour here is now double precious.

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More skies from everywhere: skywatch friday

Under this different sky

when i woke this morning, i remembered the weather forecast: storm warning. so the first thing i did was: look outside. and then i went and picked my camera, to catch this sky. turns out, so far the storm isn't crossing this region. the wind got stronger for a while, but then faded again.

i walked up to the reception, to check with them: the nice news is, we can stay in the appartment we have (that wasn't all sure). and they expected worse weather, too. "if that's the bad day that was announced, we are happy to take it," was the general mood.

i also looked for books, and picked 3 to read into. which lead to this moment:



The second line says: "Das Glück sich lebendig und frei zu fühlen..." - "The luck to feel alive and free.."

And I tried another short video, to catch the mood of this unexpected light day:


and here is the written version of the moment:

Under this different sky /
hours vibrating in 3 kinds of blue /
this luxury of light time

sunrise, vine + memories

Monday morning. A week that starts with an ocean sunrise. Yesterday  was windy, which brought stunning waves and made the surfers happy. Today the sky is smoother. I put on my jacket, stepped outside and played with Vine, trying a sunrise-mini-video:



The vine videos also go live on twitter, which brought some visitors to this blog, and a shift in the list of the "most-often-read-posts": the notes from one of the previous stays here are now surfacing h. Back then we had some rainy days, which is unusual for the island. It's nic e that this time, the weather is sunnier - but it's also sweet to revisit those posts, especially with the rainbow moments they include. And in  to see how different the same island looks in different weather:

here are some links to the previous journeys:
2012: change of skies 
2012: journey to Lanzarote, day 5 & 6: rain/bows

sky + ocean + huge mini moments

On Wednesday morning, we got up at 2.30. Outside: freezing winter. And a plane waiting for us, at 5.50 - southbound.

So good, to be able to start this year with a journey in January, with some sun-and-ocean-time, after all the difficult times of 2015.

And so nice, too, the way small / huge things worked out on the way: we had seats on the left side of the aisle, and thus could watch the sunrise above clouds:

 

Then the arrival - stepping out of the plane, into mild air. A sky that is blue instead of grey. And so many moments, waiting. Yesterday I walked along a lava beach, which felt like the perfect counterpart to the walk of last week, which lead along snow-white fields.



Mini videos
During to flight and at the beach, I also tried some mini videos. It's one of my resolutions for this new year: to try new things, to experiment with format, and to take more time for those small huge moments that shape our days. Enjoy!





and here is the written version of the moment:

wave and wave and wave and -

the hugeness of time and the ocean

Why is the sky blue? (and other blue questions)

Sky & ocean & a sailing boat & a palm tree in the wind - yes, this photo is almost "kitschig" in its beauty, but that's how the view from the southern end of Lanzarote island looks on sunny days: blue sky, blue ocean, and the blue silhouette of Fuerteventura island in the distance.



Why is water blue?
While there, a question of the obvious came up: why is water blue?  I first guessed that the blues of the water is simply the blue of the sky, reflected, but that only leads to the next question: why is the sky blue?

Later that day, and reconnected to wifi, I looked for the answer to the blue. Turns out, water itself is blue - or rather: water looks blue. Here's the explanation: bodies of water appears blue from above, as they absorb the red component of the light that is reflecting from the bottom of them. The effect is stronger when the water is deeper. If you put the same water in a smaller bucket it only looks slightly blue.

But that is only part of the answer. In addition to that, Lakes and oceans appear blue as the surface of the water reflects the color of the sky. Which leads back to the other tricky question:

Why is the sky blue?
Nasa has the answer, here's a short version: "Sunlight reaches Earth's atmosphere and is scattered in all directions by all the gases and particles in the air. Blue light is scattered in all directions by the tiny molecules of air in Earth's atmosphere. Blue is scattered more than other colors because it travels as shorter, smaller waves. This is why we see a blue sky most of the time."
More about it, here:  nasa/sky

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More skies from everywhere: skywatch friday

More blue moments from everywhere at photo friday

Have a beautiful sky week ~

this special sky moment + a silent poem

 A special sky moment i never get tired of: sunrise.
 And double special: ocean sunrise.



Just 40 minutes later, arriving back from my sunrise walk, I took this second sky / ocean photo: this is almost from the same place: a little zen-like stone tower someone created at the beach, Which reminded me of the small stones writing. So I tried, and looked for word to capture the moment and feeling:

At the edge of the bay 
Nine stones turned 
Into a silent stone poem

Good I had the photo with me when walking past it - today when I looked for it, it was – gone. Which somehow is sad, but also fitting from theme: tomorrow our plane home is waiting, and we will be gone, too, and with it, summer. Back home, winter is waiting. (And now, a smallstone-photo is waiting, too, in the sidebar, with the smallstone-link to the previous moments.)

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Links: 
More island moments: life as a journey – Lanzarote 2014
More skies from around the world: skywatch friday
And a new link: the stone tower now turned into a sidebar-link to bring back the previous smallstone moments.

a new place, you-are-there-reading, mermaids & "to simply live those moments"

A new place 
Since Monday, we are staying in a different corner of Lanzarote: in Playa Blanca, the southern tip of the island. It's the first time we are here, and it feels like a lucky move  - the weather is sunnier since we are here (and supposedly, this is the "sunny corner" of the island, even when clouds are lingering further up the coast. And the the place itself is lovely, it's not a hotel, but it's holiday bungalows. The description of the place sounded good, but then you never really know until you are there if it's only the description that sounds fine (just like with books and their promising blurbs)

A nice thing is that the bungalows here don’t have simple numbers, but names. Ours is called “Christian Andersen”, relating to the fairy tale author from Denmark. Next to us is Pablo Picasso and Leonardo di Vinci. There also is Agatha Christie, John Lennon and Fred Astaire, and various other.

In the photo above, you can see Playa Blanca from the southern end of the settlement. Our bungalow belongs to the first patch of houses you see, with the palm trees in front. It's indeed "at the end of the island". Beyond it, there is just the walkway that leads to the lighthouse at the southern tip, see photo below - that's taken from the same walkway, just some minutes further towards the opposite  direction.

Ocean Read 
To stay in a bungalow named by a writer reminded me of a this essay on books I read a while ago, about "You Are There - Reading" - the special joy and passion to read a book in a place that appears in the book. I looked it up, here's the quote from it: "The practice of reading books in the places they describe" - like reading Homer's Odyssey in Greece, Henry David Thoreau's "Walden" in Walden, James Joyce's "Dubliners" or "Ulysses" in Dublin. (from Ex Libris, Anne Fadiman)



Hans-Christian Andersen is from Denmark, though, but when I looked up his biography, I remembered that he is the author of the “Little Mermaid”. There is an online-version of the tale in the web, and it was a joy to read it, with the view to the blue ocean, which connected perfectly with the starting lines:

"Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep too. It goes down deeper than any anchor rope will go, and many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. It is down there that the sea folk live.."

Here’s the link: Hans-Christian Andersen: Little Mermaid

A Portuguese Nobel Lanzarote writer:  Jose Saramago 

Following the idea of you-are-there-reading, I browsed a bit to see if I can find an author from Lanzarote. There probably are Spanish authors, so looking in English wasn't too helpful at first, but I learned that a rather prominent author lived here for years: the Portuguese author Jose Saramagao, who received the Nobel Prize for literature. There's an interview with Saramago in the Paris Review, which took place on a sunny afternoon in March of 1997, at his home in Lanzarote, just some miles from here. Here's a bit from it:

Interviewer: "When you moved to Lanzarote, away from the surroundings in which you had lived and written for so many years, did you accustom yourself immediately to this space, or did you miss your previous work space?"Saramago: "I adapted easily. I believe myself to be the type of person who does not complicate his life. I have always lived my life without dramatizing things, whether the good things that have happened to me or the bad. I simply live those moments."

(and here is the second photo, with the counterpart view)

Carmen LaForet + The Week in Culture
Another writer who is related to Lanzarote is Carmen LaForet, who wrote a book with the tales from the Canary Islands, combined with a travel guide. Her most known work is a novel, though: "Nada" / "Nothing". I hadn't known her, she wais " a Spanish author who wrote in the period after the Spanish Civil War. An important European writer, her works contributed to the school of Existentialist Literature". When I looked for an interview with her, I arrived at the Paris Review again - but then first thought: wrong link, as the page that popped up wasn't an interview, but a blog-style culture article with various themes.  Turned out, this is a series, and the one that popped up was again a you-are-there-read: A week in culture - writer Carlene Bauer, who recently has been to Spain, and writes about learning Spanish, reading LaForet, and various culture encounters, like this one with a note on the spell of reading books:

"Appointment in the city with an editor. After Spain, I have been wanting to read more Spanish-language fiction. Recently read Carmen Laforet’s Nada, which is a dark haunted attic of a novel set in post–Civil War Barcelona, and then, finally, after meaning to do so forever, have just started Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives. It is my subway companion, and the thunderous hurtling of the train is the perfect accompaniment to the book’s hectic, shuttling sentences. I am having the terrible and embarrassing problem of instantly realizing a book’s genius, but also failing to find instant purchase in the narrative. I’m trusting that I will soon come to love this, though. Editor I meet with sees that I am carrying book, says 2666 had her under a spell that made her prefer its company to that of humans."

Here's the whole series: Paris Review / Week in Culture

Now, for an island walk, to enjoy the ocean moments, and to take some photos. (which now are included above. i also learned a word: "lighthouse" in Spanish is: "faro".)

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Related links:

• Lanzarote blog entries (this year and previous visits)
• reading notes + overview: bookshelf 2014

Between earth and sky + Timanfaya National Park

It's day 5 on the island. And it's so good to be here - I am still amazed how a change of place can make such a difference of perception, how being here makes everything seem like a part of a larger horizon.



Even the weather and the way it changes fits in somehow: rain and sun are arriving in leaving on an almost hourly basis, as if they want to spread that zen lesson on time, and on the impermanence of all things: everything is changing. The combination of sun and rain also keeps creating stunning rainbows, which reach from earth to sky back to earth in 180°.




It’s a vibe that also is part of Lanzarote island itself, with its volcanic heart, and the lava fields: all that is here was created by vulcanoes, and one day one of them will wake again, to start their fire circle again, and add a new layer.


Driving along the lava fields of Timanfaya National Park in the changing light of sun and clouds made me feel like driving through a huge landscape or canvas of changing colors, almost like a modern impressiont painting, or like Rothko’s work of art: those vast spaces of color, combined and contrasted.




Which makes me remember seeing Rothko’s work for real, after all the photos of it. And realizing how large the paintings are. And how trying to take a picture of them then blurs the dimensions. Just like with the island, too: the ocean, the horizon, the vulcanoe landscape: they are too large for the normal photo.

Entry sign of  Timanfaya National Park (i posted this before, but it fits just too nicely with the new photo friday theme "Park")

And here's a bit more about the Timanfaya Park:

Timanfaya National Park (Spanish: Parque Nacional de Timanfaya) is a Spanish national park in the southwestern part of the island of Lanzarote, Canary Islands. In 1993, UNESCO designated a Biosphere reserve covering the whole of Lanzarote. The national park is one of the core areas of the biosphere reserve. The parkland is entirely made up of volcanic soil. - Volcanic Activity: The greatest recorded eruptions occurred between 1730 and 1736. There is only one active volcano, Timanfaya volcano which the park is named after. more: wiki/Timanfaya_National_Park

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Another moment from today: sitting on a bench made out of vulcanoe stone, and browsing the books on my reader – and finding this road poem by Walt Whitman:




“Song of the Open Road” 
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world befor me, 
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose, 
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.. 
Strong and content I travel the open road 
The earth, that is sufficient.

island horizons & a sunset jogg with the sliver of the moon

So i am here again, enjoying the island and the open horizons in November. Walking along Matagorda bay in the sun and southern wind. And driving along the island roads, through villages, and through lava fields, towards la Hervideros, where the lava met the ocean. It's a wild place, a place of basic elements: Walter, Fire , Stone. So good to sit there, watch the waves rolling in endlessly, timelessly.

I brought the perfect read for being here, too: "Wild", the Memoiren of Cheryl Strayed who walked the Pacific Crest Trail, and walked through pain, from lost to found.

The Island also rought back an element of my life that hat been missing for the last weeks, since the operation: i finally could go jogging again. Such a bodily joy, To be able to be out there again in my jogging shoes, to feel that i am healing. And such nice timing: when I started, a cloud had moved in, but then the sky opened, and the moon appeared, together with hazy colored clouds, which stayed until I was back again, and could pick up the camera to take a photo.

And a memory, from last year - I thought of it while driving along the same road, listening to the same songs.

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Wednesday, November 27, 2013 
birds, waves, journeys

Birds and waves and the sun shining through clouds.

That’s what i saw when I looked out of the window this morning. I hadn’t really planned to step out of the door right away, with the wind blowing already, or rather: still blowing. But seeing the birds and the sun, like an installation of natural art, I just had to get out there, to walk along the bay.
Every couple of minutes, there was a new flock of seagulls appearing, surfing in the wind, passing by right above, as if there was a seagull meet-up further down the coast. As if they all knew something I didn’t know.

Seeing them brought back the memory of the migrating flock of storks in France, on their way to Africa. And the flock of swallows at home, gathering.

This fascination of flying. And of journeys. After all the work, this journey still feels slightly unreal. The way a shift of place changes the own view of things. The way that something that seemed so important now can wait another day. The way memories pop up, in unexpected places. Like in the island supermarket, when I picked a pot of Cup Noodles, and the memory of my first Cup Noodles flashed with it: Ireland that was. English summer school in Cork. Which also was my first trip by plane. And my first trip alone to another country.

 Another memory that returned today: while driving across the island, I listened to the battered CD I brought, “The Human Condition” by Richard Ashcroft. Bought in India. Played there, on a road through Rajasthan. Which didn’t look that different, seen like that: dusty fields. A white sun above.

All this road, going.

island time: going to Lanzarote, going back in time

(this is a re-post from November 2012 and 2006... while packing bags, i wondered if i would find the time to blog about leaving properly. and then browsed the previous blog entries. and found this note, which i couldn't put better today, on this day of leaving and arriving)

Saturday, 24th November 2012

the day of leaving and arriving
this overlap of reality
___when here 
________turns there

inalities and waking early. Leaving and arriving, again. And: going back in time. To the same day, some years ago. When i was there on the island already for the longer part by then, when thoughts turned to going back home. Here's the diary entry from back then: all that remains (and to think: what would remain without words).

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Thursday, 24th November 2006
all that remains

every morning, just after sunrise, i go to the beach. it's not far, and it feels like the most beautiful start to the day, walking down the way that leads to the shore. and the shore, it's different every day, the light, the waves, the wind, the clouds.

this morning it felt like Mexico, even though i never have been there. or maybe it's me, who feels lazy after the days of cruising the roads of this fire island.

so i am sitting on the beach now, watching the waves, watching ships and birds glide by, and watch the planes arrive and leave. in a way, an island is a place of timeless being, and in another way, it's a place of permanent motion:

everything is moving here, every single grain of sand. that's what i realized when i walked along the beach today, and stopped for a moment, to watch the wind move over the ground. and was stunned. for what i saw was the miniature of a dune desert, a lake of motion, a genesis of sand, following the direction the wind headed to. i touched one of the tiny dunes. where are you coming from, i wondered. how far did you travel already. the dune gave its answer by gliding on underneath my hand.

also, an island is a perfect place to read. yesterday i picked up a book i brought from the library, a book of essays from Adolf Muschg, titled „Die Insel, die Kolumbus nicht gefunden hat“ – „The island that columbus hasn't found." the book, it is about Japan, not about Lanzarote. i knew that much when i chose it, but i had no idea how fitting it is nevertheless: one of the places Kolumbus wanted to find was Nippon, this city Marco Polo told silver roof stories about. and the islands Kolumbus started his journey from was - the Canary Islands.


he might even have walked along the streets of Puerto del Carmen, the very town our bungalow is located. in those days, Lanzarote was covered with forest. later, the forest was turned to sailing boats by the Spanish sailors and the army. hard to believe this when you see the effort it takes just to grow one single grapevine today. to protect the plants from the wind, and with it, from the moving sand, strings of stone circles are built on the fields, making them look like landscapes of abstract art.

and today i read a poem at the beach, one that just so fitted to these days, to this place - it's printed in German in the book, so i try the translation, below. back home i will look for the original. just like i will look for the answer of another riddle: the rhythm of the turning of the tides. or maybe i will figure that one out in the passing of the next days.

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When the long letters
have been written and read and 
stored away, when distances 
turn into the absolute,
just like the talking does,
then all that remains is
the listening. 

I have heard the black hearts
of stones 
who beat only once in their life. 

- William Pitt Root

(Out of) Winter's Reach

time is different here, on the island. this open space of time, this open horizon. and, for us, lucky skies: there was rain announced for today. but the southern wind kept the rain away from Lanzarote, and let today feel like a gift. maybe there might be some rain tomorrow, though.  

4 more island days. at home, there is snowrain today, which feels like a prelude to the new photo friday theme "Winter's Reach". in contrast to that, some island moments, all of them out of winter's reach:

a snow man of the different kind

ocean walk, with Fuerteventura island at the horizon

vulcano walk... this is in the Timanfaya national park

journey to Lanzarote, or: all that remains

(this is a re-post from November 2012... while packing bags, i wondered if i would find the time to blog about leaving properly. and then browsed the previous blog entries. and found this note, which i couldn't put better today, on this day before leaving, which is day of rain, and of yet some things left to do, while the horizon is becoming more real.)

 

Saturday, 24th November 2012

the day of leaving and arriving
this overlap of reality
___when here 
________turns there

Finalities and waking early. Sorting, wrapping, packing, checking.
And: going back in time. To the same day, some years ago. When i was there on the island already for the longer part by then, when thoughts turned to going back home. Here's the diary entry from back then: all that remains (and to think: what would remain without words).

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Thursday, 24th November 2006
all that remains

every morning, just after sunrise, i go to the beach. it's not far, and it feels like the most beautiful start to the day, walking down the way that leads to the shore. and the shore, it's different every day, the light, the waves, the wind, the clouds.

this morning it felt like Mexico, even though i never have been there. or maybe it's me, who feels lazy after the days of cruising the roads of this fire island.

so i am sitting on the beach now, watching the waves, watching ships and birds glide by, and watch the planes arrive and leave. in a way, an island is a place of timeless being, and in another way, it's a place of permanent motion, with the waves and the wind.

and it's a perfect place for words: today i readd a poem at the beach, one that just so fitted to these days, to this place - it's printed in German in the book, so i try the translation, below. back home i will look for the original. just like i will look for the answer of another riddle: the rhythm of the turning of the tides. or maybe i will figure that one out in the passing of the next days.

**

When the long letters
have been written and read and 
stored away, when distances 
turn into the absolute,
just like the talking does,
then all that remains is
the listening. 

I have heard the black hearts
of stones 
who beat only once in their life. 

- William Pitt Root

journey to Lanzarote: time & 3 more days

Three more days on the island. Back home, it's winter now: freezing temperatures, snowrain falling. Still a part of me starts to long for home, while another part would like to stay here another week, read some historic books about the place, about the life during the vulcanoe eruptions in the 17th century, about the people who arrived here, and went away again.

i look forward to having a proper web connection in the snow. but somehow it fits, that this far-off island is slower in connection. which also lead to some thoughts on time:

today on a drive through the lava region here, I thought about this note from a friend, about just being in the now, not making plans, not thinking forward, analyzing, but instead just being. That's how Lanzarote is for me this year – and somehow (even though it's a nuisance, especially as i had some online stuff to do for my freelance online work) – the slow and dysfunctional web connection really is a good thing, in the way it restricts online activities to a minimum.



It's so good to be here, in this place of water and stone, fire and wind. it's not the all-sunny holiday, but one of constantly changing skies. Every day has a different mood, a different temperature, a different direction of wind, a different tune of sunrise. So energetic, vivid. And the landscape, the colors and the light keeps changing every day. Even the storm on Monday fitted in, and the way it changed the beach, moved away piles of sand, brought rocks to the surface.

Sometimes I wish that it would be simple sun, but then, that's what we had last year, when we were here for 7 days. This year, it's 12 days, which also makes a difference: the space of time. It brought the idea to visit Teguise, a place I knew from driving through, but hadn't really taken the time to visit. That's where I went yesterday, while Ronnie went for a long bike ride. And it was so interesting, stepping into history. I blogged about it today, took some pictures that came out fine in combination.

I also thought that I would write more, draft some flash stories or poems – but I guess I really needed this break of just being in a place. I am taking a lot of photos, though.

A thought I had in the last days: that I might change my rhythm when I am returning. With my own projects and the freelance work, especially with the ongoing online projects .. it's a beautiful but neverending string of things to do. And from projects, there isn't a point of “done for now”, or “done for today”. There's always something else that waits. Which creates this constant pull. Which is absent now, here on the island. and this time of absence now gave me the thought that I could install my own “done for today” point, not by projects, but by time: and say that after working so and so many hours, I'm done for the day. so I penned a kind of rough schedule today, and will try this when I am back.

Also, I want to create some open time/space, to go and visit places I haven't seen before. There's this line I have written in one of my travel diaries, that I now came across again: “Every day, try something new.”

Which is easy, here on the island. but then, it's an advice for life, especially for the everyday, a way o explore and journey every day.

journey to Lanzarote day 8: Orderly, or: the nature of nature

the weather here on Lanzarote island is still a mix of sun and rain. an "unusual weather condition", the forecasts put it. hopefully today will bring the turn to sunnier skies. and as always, there are 2 ways to see it. of course it would be nice to have really fine weather, without having to worry about being caught by the next rain cloud. but then, it's good that it's not only rainy, but a mix of sun and rain: sun hour followed by rain hour followed by sun hour...

and it's the nature of nature to follow its own patterns, its own order - once upon a time, the whole island here was green. so maybe the "unusual" weather is just unusual in the shorter perspectibe. the plants, for sure, are happy. (until the sun will soak their water again and leave them withered).

what keeps blowing, though, through sun and rain is: the wind. and in a kind of artistic bow to it, across the island of Lanzarote, several huge wind sculptures are installed. depending on the wind, they stand still or move. it's always fascinating to see something that is invisible and seemingly without substance - the wind - set such massive structures into motion, which then follow its energy and order and start to turn along their axis.

this is the scuplture in movement:


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this blog post is inspired by photo friday's new theme: Ordely, more about those sculptures here in a blog post that also was inspired by photo friday: many "many" pictures + wind sculptures

journey to Lanzarote day 7: new green (and blue)

the weather is still mixed: sun, then clouds, then rain, then sun. it hasn't rained here that much since ages. and all the water now turns this lava desert island: green.

3 moments from today and yesterday:

 sun hour

   

rain coming (in the north, view to Haria valley)

island to island (view from the southern end of Lanzarote to Fuerteventura)

journey to Lanzarote, day 5 & 6: rain/bows

Usually Lanzarote is an island that only seldom sees rain, but due to an unusual weather constellation that first brought southern winds and now northern winds, there is: rain. Or rather: strings of rain clouds between strings of sun. Shores light up with 180°, and yesterday, during a drive, we were right at the start of a moving rain front that moved at the ground speed of 80 kilometres per hour with us over the island. A photo from that drive, below. And a photo of the bay this morning, above.

Hopefully tomorrow will bring sunny skies again, as fascinating as the cloud / light effects are here. But then, the rain brought another good thing with it: the mood for revisions. I am reading through Masala Moments, my travel novel from India, and work on a slightly revised version for an e-book. It’s good, to revisit. 

And another revisit: a rainy diary entry from a previous stay:

Wednesday 1st December 2010

storm

there was a storm crossing through the island. it didn't get really bad, just lots of rain, some thunder and lightning, and rough waves.

the thing about Lanzarote is that it is almost always sunny here, with almost no rain. that's also how everything is built: for sun, and wind, not for rain. that's why rain messes things up here quite a bit. they closed schools on monday, and shut down airports temporarily. here, electricity was gone for a while, and the internet – which wasn't very good before the storm – now is only almost drowned.

now the sun is returning, but there are still strings of rain clouds passing through. yesterday was rainbow day: a cloud got stuck in the middle of the island, and kept drizzling, while the sun kept shining at the coast – and thus, there was a steady, complete 180° arc of a rainbow, shining for more than an hour.

later we went for a beach walk, to find that the storm waves took away a large part of sand, turning a part of the sand beach to stone beach. an ongoing creative process, too: the elements, water, wind, air.

it's good to be here, and even the storm was somehow fascinating, with the way it transformed the island for a day. 

journey to Lanzarote day 03: change of skies

She learns
The storm warning was on since yesterday. Rain came in the night. But the morning brought: blue sky. “Was that it?” we wondered. And walked into the sun. An hour after noon, the sky turned again. Another island emerged, one of water rushing down, one of vulcanoes wrapped in mist. One of unreadable skies.

It brought the memory of another day of heavy rain on another island.. and now I went looking for it but didn’t find it. But I found this one, from arriving here once:

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Lanzarote  
There is something magic about this place. maybe it's the closeness to the elements that makes the difference, the presence of those fire mountains that are only sleeping, that will wake again one day.

“Isla de fuerta”, the island once was named. we were here years ago, in the time before digital cameras, in the time of just taking a few photos with a pocket camera, but the intensity of its colours remained in my memory anyway. the white houses. the black beaches. the red hills. the green plants that were growing on lava earth. the blue water. and the sand that is sometimes carried by the wind, all the way from the Sahara, white like snowflakes.

When i woke this morning, i looked out of the window, and just had to go to the beach, to walk through the sand barefoot. to pick up a black stone and a white shell. There were doves, standing in the wind, above the waves. As if it was a game, or a task to learn: to idle in this rush of elements.

Lanzarote day 2: time colors

(from 25th November 2009, and just the right words for today)

time 

feels different here. 

just like the colors.

i took some pictures, to accompany a note from here: 

 Green door appartment. 
 Black sand beach.
 Red sahara wind. 
 Everything is colors here.

 so beautiful, to be here. and to read in the sun. here a quote i came across.. in Eric Orsenna's novella „Inselsommer“ ("island summer")...

 *

and as the quote is in German, a switch to the here and now, to reading "Playing with Water" by James Hamilton-Paterson, which i ordered second-hand, and which arrived just in time to accompany me to this island:

 "So this was the kano (stranger) from Kansulay? And he wanted to live on Tiwarik? Well, why not? But on the other hand, why? There was nothing there, no hotels or discos, no white beach, not even fresh water.
 .... 
 That was the day I never did do anything but climb up the grassfield and daydream. Site is everything, of course, I had freedom of choice since I had no claim on the land the hut I was going to put up would probably not outlive the first typhoon." 

 (she types under a sunny sky, knowing that the weather will change soon, that the southern wind will bring a storm warning, that day 3 of this island stay might be filled with rain and wind. but not now yet)

journey to Lanzarote, day 1: all that remains

Saturday, 24th November 2012

the day of leaving and arriving
this overlap of reality
___when here 
________turns there

Finalities and waking early. Sorting, wrapping, packing, checking.
And: going back in time. To the same day, some years ago. When i was there on the island already for the longer part by then, when thoughts turned to going back home. Here's the diary entry from back then: all that remains (and to think: what would remain without words).

**

Thursday, 24th November 2006
all that remains

every morning, just after sunrise, i go to the beach. it's not far, and it feels like the most beautiful start to the day, walking down the way that leads to the shore. and the shore, it's different every day, the light, the waves, the wind, the clouds.

this morning it felt like Mexico, even though i never have been there. or maybe it's me, who feels lazy after the days of cruising the roads of this fire island.

so i am sitting on the beach now, watching the waves, watching ships and birds glide by, and watch the planes arrive and leave. in a way, an island is a place of timeless being, and in another way, it's a place of permanent motion:

everything is moving here, every single grain of sand. that's what i realized when i walked along the beach today, and stopped for a moment, to watch the wind move over the ground. and was stunned. for what i saw was the miniature of a dune desert, a lake of motion, a genesis of sand, following the direction the wind headed to. i touched one of the tiny dunes. where are you coming from, i wondered. how far did you travel already. the dune gave its answer by gliding on underneath my hand.

also, an island is a perfect place to read. yesterday i picked up a book i brought from the library, a book of essays from Adolf Muschg, titled „Die Insel, die Kolumbus nicht gefunden hat“ – „The island that columbus hasn't found." the book, it is about Japan, not about Lanzarote. i knew that much when i chose it, but i had no idea how fitting it is nevertheless: one of the places Kolumbus wanted to find was Nippon, this city Marco Polo told silver roof stories about. and the islands Kolumbus started his journey from was - the Canary Islands.


he might even have walked along the streets of Puerto del Carmen, the very town our bungalow is located. in those days, Lanzarote was covered with forest. later, the forest was turned to sailing boats by the Spanish sailors and the army. hard to believe this when you see the effort it takes just to grow one single grapevine today. to protect the plants from the wind, and with it, from the moving sand, strings of stone circles are built on the fields, making them look like landscapes of abstract art.

and today i read a poem at the beach, one that just so fitted to these days, to this place - it's printed in German in the book, so i try the translation, below. back home i will look for the original. just like i will look for the answer of another riddle: the rhythm of the turning of the tides. or maybe i will figure that one out in the passing of the next days.

**

When the long letters
have been written and read and 
stored away, when distances 
turn into the absolute,
just like the talking does,
then all that remains is
the listening. 

I have heard the black hearts
of stones 
who beat only once in their life. 

- William Pitt Root

on the way back home: Africa + the Strait of Gibraltar

back home. the sky was kind yesterday: calm at home, without snow and above freezing. and during the flight, some great views, and i was lucky and had a seat a the "sight" side of the plane.

in the first photo, you can see the coast of Africa - that's Marocco, and the hills in the background belong to the Atlas mountains range. and below: the Strait of Gibraltar. the place where Africa ends, and Europe starts, where the Atlantic flows into the Mediterranean Sea. (here are more images, via google, including some maps).

language sidenote: in German, this place is called: "Straße von Gibraltar": Street of Gibraltar. as if it was a road.