A Moral Tale to Tell

 

The streets of Puerto de la Cruz in North Tenerife are something not to be missed if you visit the island. Filled with little bars and cafes, a mixture of tourists and friendly locals enjoying their morning coffee or a small glass of local afrutado wine, they animatedly chat or watch the world go by.

 

When their batteries have been recharged, it is time to take a stroll through the streets with its interesting mix of historical and modern buildings. Streets where you can fill your lungs with wonderful, clean, fresh air, immersing yourself in the culture and heritage of the Portuenses.

 

For writers, poets and literary buffs, the grand old house on Calle San Juan and the corner of Calle Iriarte is a must. A typical-looking Canarian building, but it is the history hidden behind four walls that is interesting.

 

Casa Iriarte, yellow in colour with its wooden balconies, is like many others in the city to look at; this house, built in the late 18th century, belonged to the Iriarte family. A family of linguists, scholars and diplomats.

 

Casa Iriarte

One member of the family, Tomás Iriarte, was a prominent poet, playwright, linguist and composer of fables, and is held in reverence in the city, with the local public library bearing his name. His book of 67 fables was published in 1782 and continues to be used as a teaching tool. The tales are dominated by the animal world. One such fable is titled El Burro Flautista, translated as the Flute-playing Donkey, and like the others in the book, it has a moral tale to tell.

 

 

 

The local library is named after the greatly admired Tomás Iriarte, and I believe. Having a library named after you would be a place that any writer would happily be remembered posthumously.

A Name Fitting Of A King

     

     Looking good at the age of 75 is hard work, especially if you are celebrating your birthday in the public eye. Things began to bulge, sag, and deep lines started to appear some years back. Out came the filler, and the bulges and sags were tucked away carefully by the hands of an expert. It is no different if you are a human or a building; we all need a little help sometimes.

    That is what happened to the Hotel Grand Mencey Santa Cruz some years ago: the professionals moved in. Restoring this prestigious hotel to retain its character and originality.
This fabulous hotel has been opening its doors to Kings, queens, musicians and film stars for the last 75 years and will continue to do so. Because its beauty and grandeur are unmistakable and unforgettable.

    Film greats such as Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Sophie Loren and Matt Damon have stayed there. The city of Santa Cruz itself is regularly used as a film location, and many undisclosed stars of all nationalities stay there or visit its fabulous restaurants.
A hotel worth the name Mencey, the title given to the Gaunche rulers of the separate kingdoms within the island of Tenerife before the Spanish conquest.

 

    To celebrate its 75th birthday, I wanted to share with you some photos I took on a visit a little while ago.

    I hope you enjoy.

New Year has Dawned

    

 

    A new year has dawned, and I decided it was time to unburden clutter from a cabinet that had been groaning and sighing for a very long time. It is where I keep notebooks, pens, in fact, most of my stationery. 
What I had forgotten about was a file buried under a pile of empty folders, which surprisingly contained multiple pages of A4 pads filled with outlines and chapters from two incomplete manuscripts.

    Now, I find this inspiring, especially when one of the outlines is for a sequel to the book I am writing at present, and another, which is a sequel to another book I finished a long time ago. A book that I submitted to lots of agents with no luck, so I filed it away, promising myself that I would do a rewrite at some point. Hmm, never did. 

    Therefore, once my current project is finished and edited, I will have plenty to get on with in 2026.

    Have a happy one, stay positive and productive in whatever you are doing and wherever you are.

 

 

Her Name is Bella

 

     ‘Her name is Bella, she is a robot,’ for some reason I wanted to sing that line to the tune of Copacabana, by Barry Manilow.

    But Bella is most definitely a showgirl, dressed to impress in Romanian national dress and helping to serve tables in a small, bijou Romanian restaurant in Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife. She brings the fabulous food they serve from the kitchen to the table, then the server takes over for the human touch.

    While I was initially sceptical when I read about a robot being used, I changed my mind when I saw her in action.

    The service in this restaurant has always been impeccable, and this time was no exception. Bella certainly enhances the service and keeps the diners amused as she glides among them, going about her work.

    Unfortunately, I won't have Bella to help me with serving Christmas dinner, but as there will only be my partner dining, it is unlikely I will be rushed off my feet.

    Hoping you all have Happy Holidays!

 

 

 

Friendship

  

 

 I had the pleasure of writing a poem for a school poetry reading project in Kenya, and was delighted when I heard the young boy reading it aloud in front of his peers via Facebook.

 I wanted to share the poem with you today. 

 

  

 Friendship

The boy stands in the playground on his own

He is new to the school and feels alone

He watches the other boys and girls having fun

They laugh, they play and even run

One of the boys playing notices him

He is a classmate who loves life to the brim

He asks the solo boy, why he is sad?

Is being here so bad?

He tells him it is because he has no friends

The schoolfellow offers his hand, it is a problem he can easily mend

In this school we have friendship to share

Each and every one of us will always care

 

© Christina Rowell 2025 

A Trip to the Museum and Lord Nelson

Recently, I visited Santa Cruz de Tenerife Museo Militar located in the Almeyda Fort. I particularly wanted to view the exhibit related to Admiral Lord Nelson, who famously lost his arm here in the Canary Islands after being hit by a musket ball in the Battle of Santa Cruz in 1797.

 

The flag captured from Nelson’s forces is proudly displayed in a glass case alongside various paintings, mannequins dressed in a typical British uniform of that time and old notes and journals. Nelson, even after losing his arm, wrote a letter to the Spanish thanking them for his care. Unfortunately, this letter is not available here but is held in a military museum on the Peninsula.

 

I was interested in reading that a note, which was written after his recovery and return to the UK, was sold recently at an auction in London. He wrote down his personal thoughts on the loss of his arm and thanked God that he had recovered and desired to continue in his role as an officer in the Navy.

 

If you are ever in Santa Cruz, the museum is worth a visit, and unlike other museums entrance is free. I have written a post on Nelson before, and if you want a quick read, here is the link. Nelson’s Retreat

Those Little Rascals

  

 

 

Where have all the days and weeks gone this year? Over the last few months, I have been busily editing a contemporary romance that I recently completed writing. 

Therefore, unfortunately, I have neglected writing posts for my blog. So thanks to my readers, both old and new, who have continued to visit.

Although I am happy with the end product, if I don’t sit down and read a chapter every day, I have severe withdrawal symptoms.  I continually want to check that the comma or semicolon hasn’t left the page overnight and gone on holiday.

Even finding one little escapee punctuation mark always gives me a sense of achievement that day. Sad but true, I am afraid.

Hopefully, I will cure this compulsion soon. The cure is likely to be by restarting an old project. Something I have half-written, it is all plotted and outlined from beginning to end. So, I hope it won’t take me too long to get back into it.

Ernest Hemingway said he edited The Fifth Column and the Forty-Nine Stories 49 times. I will always need to remind myself of that.

Goodness, does that mean I’m on the search for those little rascals of punctuation again tomorrow?

Life Enrichment

 

 

 

When I visit cities, whether here in the Canary Islands or elsewhere in the world, I love visiting public parks.

On a recent trip to Santa Cruz, the capital of Tenerife, I visited Parque Garcia Sanabria. A public park in the middle of the city, away from the hustle and bustle of the busy streets, is an urban sanctuary for all, young and old.

It was hard to choose which path to take, but with each turn I took, there was always something to capture in a picture, whether it was trees, plants, sculptures, or water features. 

While I was snapping away, an elderly local gentleman approached and asked me if I would like him to take a photograph of me and my partner. I explained I didn’t want pictures of us but of the beauty that surrounded us.

 

He said that the reason he asked was that when he and his wife went on holiday for many years, they had taken many photographs of themselves individually, but none of them together.

 Then he produced an old Nokia from his pocket, and he told me his phone was unable to take photographs. However, his son insisted he carried it with him when he took his walk in the park twice a day. 

Now, ninety-three years old, he thought it was probably a good idea in case he got into difficulty. Of course, he said the other reason he believed it was a good idea was that his wife would contact him when it was time to return home for lunch or dinner!
 

He then asked where we originated from, and I explained that we were Scottish but now living in his country. He told me that he had great admiration for the Scots because of the love they have in their hearts. I thanked him for this compliment, and he bowed and left us to continue with his daily enrichment of life.

 

My visit to the park resulted in an ideal day to take pictures, but also a perfect day to restore my faith in humanity.

 

https://www.webtenerife.com/que-visitar/jardines-y-parques/parque-garcia-sanabria/ 

Tribute to Tartan Week

    

 

    I can’t let ‘Tartan Week’ go by without celebrating my heritage and culture. Today I’ve included a fun poem written by a lesser-known Scottish poet, Walter Wingate.

    Unfortunately, while alive, very little of his poetry was published, and there were no publishing platforms in those days gone by to self-publish. 

 

    However, after his death, his talent was recognised, and a collection of his poetry was
published, and his words can live on.

 

 

     ‘The Sair Finger’ is about a child with a splinter in their finger. The Scots dialect I know is not easy to understand, but today, I make no apologies for using it in this post because this week is a week to honour all things Scottish.

 

 

 

The Sair Finger

 

You’ve hurt your finger? Puir wee man!

Your pinkie? Deary me!

Noo, juist you haud it that wey till

I get my specs and see!

 

My so it is, and there’s the skelf !

Noo, dinna greet nae mair! 

See there, my needles gotten’t out!

I’m sure that wasna sair?

 

And noo, to make it hale the morn

Put on a wee bit saw

And tie a bonnie hankie roun’t

Noo, there nar in awa’!

 

Your finger sair ana’? Ye rogue

You’re only lettin on

Weel, weel, then see noo, there ye are

Row’d up the same as John!

 

 Walter Wingate 15 April 1865 —1918

 

 

 

Dawn Chorus

 

 

 

 

 

A study recently found that not everyone loves to hear the dawn chorus in the morning. Something that I actually found surprising.

 

When I lived in Scotland, birdsong could be deafening at certain times of the year. My garden was visited by many species of birds, and I do miss their song and beauty in the early throw of Spring.

 

But since moving to South Tenerife, due to the lack of green areas, it’s not something I experience often. Occasionally, blackbird song, the chatter of the noisy parakeets feeding in the palm trees and the strange call of the Hoopoe can be heard when passing through the island on their migration journey.

 

The island’s north is very different, and the luscious vegetation encourages our feathered friends to stay and not just pass through. Therefore, when I visit there, it’s a tick off my list of things that put a smile on my face.

Outtakes of Life

 

 

This time of year, I watch lots of movies. I binge first on the Christmas ones, then gradually wean myself off (reluctantly).

The other day, I watched a Richard Curtis film called About Time. The movie is not new; I believe it was released in 2013. I wasn’t aware of the film before and just came across it accidentally. I chose it because I knew it wouldn’t disappoint, as all of the other titles this writer, producer and director is known for are memorable.

Like many of his other productions, the screenplay of this rom-com was a mix of funny and sad. Without giving too much away and spoiling your viewing if you haven’t watched it yet, time travel and the ability to change things in his life feature. What I loved about it was that although the protagonist could change certain things in his life, it wasn’t possible to change everything. For me, this actually made the story more believable.

As a writer, it enforced the advice given to me a long time ago; that we must make our characters believable in our writing. The protagonist has to have struggles and goals as real people do. 

The only difference is that film producers can do outtakes to do just that, and we can edit, edit, and edit to reach our desired outcome, unlike life.

The Year

     

 

 

    Well, where has the year gone? This is my last post of the year and I wanted to wish you all

 a wonderful New Year ahead and thank you for joining me throughout the year.

    I want to see the year out with a classic poem by American author and poet, Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

The Year

What can be said in new Year rhymes

That's not been said a thousand times?

The new years come , the old years go

We know we dream, we dream we know

We hug the world until it stings

We curse it then and sigh for wings

We  live , we love, we woo, we wed

We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear

And that's the burden of a year

 

 Ella Wheeler Wilcox Nov 5 1850—Oct 30 1919

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Agatha’s View

 

 

    A set of stairs leads towards the popular la Sala Teatro Timanfaya, a theatre popular for artistic and musical folklore productions. But, looking beyond and towards the sky ahead, a hotel that once dominated the skies of Puerto de La Cruz is surrounded by scaffolding and is clearly undergoing restoration and renewal.

 

    El Gran Hotel Taoro, built as a luxury hotel in 1890, endured financial crashes, civil wars, and world wars. It played host to some of the most prominent dignitaries in society; the list is long, but being a writer, I have to mention one of its most famous guests in my eyes, Agatha Christie.

 

    But not everything can stay in the past, and El Gran Hotel Taoro grew tired and outdated. Unloved and occupied by various businesses, it finally closed its doors around half a century ago. 

 

 

 

    The new owners, the My Way Hotel Group, are rehabilitating the facade and interior of the building. However, what will never change is the significance the building has played in the city's history. Future guests can take in the marvellous vistas below towards the magical blue sea as Agatha did and maybe even be inspired to write a book or short story.

 

 

 

 

 

https://granhoteltaoro.com/en/ 

Over-Egged

 

 

I am increasingly frustrated when I read news articles and media posts that are “over-egged.” They are sometimes so exaggerated that they fall into the fake news category. Unfortunately, many are written to exacerbate social unrest, bigotry and hatred.

It is disappointing that many journalists and media writers are selling their souls to the devil and are gaining notoriety by writing truly fictional pieces.

 
It’s my opinion that many of these writers are just lazy when choosing this easy option. It would be nice if they could be true to at least themselves and use the gift they were given positively.

Okay, my rant is over. Thank you, as always for reading the blog. Have a fabulous weekend.

 

 

 

Creative Slowdown

 

 

 

 I’m sorry I haven't been blogging much recently. Why? I've hit a bit of writer's block when it comes to writing posts. It's not that I haven’t been writing; I have. My brain has been finding it difficult to concentrate on more than one thing at a time in the writing field, I’m writing a new novel, and I've been focusing on that.

I'm venturing into the adult romance field this time, something slightly different for me as a writer. I want the story to be realistic, and I've spent time doing research, which has been time-consuming. 

I'm now halfway through the first draft, and hopefully, I'll soon be finished. But, of course, the draft is only the start of the hard work. Wish me luck.

When the Beast Became an Enchanted Rose

    Since being established in 1496 by the Genoan banker Cristobal de Ponte, the town of Garachico had played a principal commercial role in trading the island's wine and sugar commodities with Europe and America. 

    However, this changed when Arenas Negras poured its hot temper onto the inhabitants at the bottom of the deep ravine. The molten lava completely drowned the port, and the city of Puerto de la Cruz became the new trading port.   

    Now, the town is resurrected from the ashes and finds itself the centre of attention because of its rich history and outstanding beauty. A mixture of the old and new architecture blends into the mountainous backdrop. As the great Albert Einstein said, “In the midst of every crisis lies great opportunity.”

    Having visited there for the first time recently,  I found the place very enchanting. I have included some photographs, but if you want to be enchanted by this rose, visit Garachico and see there for yourself.

The Best Days Ever

     

 

    I enjoy watching cookery programmes, and I have my favourite go-tos. The other day, I viewed an episode of a series of programmes that featured picnic food. It got me thinking back to when I was a kid and when my grandmother used to take me on a picnic regularly.

    The food we ate on the picnic was very different from the food suggestions on this programme. There was no quiche, sausage rolls, scotch eggs or Battenberg cake, washed down by iced lemon tea.

    Our feast usually consisted of jam or cheese sandwiches accompanied by a flask of tea. They were the best days ever.

 

    I’ve included a classic poem today, written by African-American Julius C. Wright. I hope you enjoy it.

 

 Going to the Picnic

 

There is a large crowd of folk

Hurrying down the road

They are going to have a picnic now 

And spread the news abroad

They're wearing beautiful bouquets

And carrying bright tin dippers

New straw hats are waving high

And patent leather slippers

Their hats are made of fine chiffon

And decorated too

There will be plenty of goodies

For your friends and for you

They will have a big barbecue

And a lot of other stuff

They are going to eat and drink

Till everybody puff 

They will have cakes and candy by the heaps

And ice cream pressed in cakes

Peanut parched fresh and hot

And a lot of fine milkshakes

They will have fish croquettes by the bushels

And coconut jumbles too

They are going to feed their friends and foes

And have enough for you

They are going to have a big dance

And have a Jolly time

They want to show their handsome looks

Because they look so fine

 

One barrel or two of lemonade

Mixed all through with ice

Lemons cut and thrown therein 

Gee! it’s awful nice 

 

Of all the fun and jollities

And all the places of rest

Just go to an old picnic ground 

They tell me that's the best

 

 

 

 

 

Not Unusual !!

 

 

 

 

    Sir Tom Jones took part in the 80th anniversary Word War II D-Day celebrations held in Normandy, France, on June 6th. He performed an exceptionally moving rendition of, I Won't Crumble If You Fall, in memory of his grandfather who died in the First World War and was buried in France. His performance was an honour to all who have fallen for their country and those whom continue to fall.

    Last night one of the TV channels featured him in a series of entertainment shows honouring him on the occasion of his 84th birthday. The shows followed his career from his early years of becoming a celebrity performer until now.

    I saw him perform on stage many years ago, a memory I should treasure forever. I will explain my use of the word, should. I was the ripe old age of ten when my aunt and uncle treated me to this theatre trip, something that they did regularly. On this occasion, my time in the front stalls  only lasted for 10 minutes before they removed me rather rapidly. 

Now you’re all thinking because of my age, I had misbehaved, which kids do. However, it was some of our fellow audience members whose conduct was a little unexpected but not unusual when it came to Sir Tom performing in the past. To my aunt and uncle’s horror, some of the young women had thrown their underwear onto the stage. This behaviour they didn't think was appropriate for a child of my young years to experience and certainly not one under their care. 

    That night will stay in my mind forever, and will always bring a smile to my lips.

     

Victoria's Garden

 

 

 Mausoleum of the Marquis of Quinta Roja

    Born on 24 May 1819, Queen Victoria began her reign in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland in 1837. She was a mother of  9 children and while I’m sure she had lots of help, this lady managed to balance work-life for over 63 years. Mothers worldwide will know how difficult that is and we certainly have to admire this accomplishment.

    Here in Tenerife, she is also recognized for her achievements and in La Orotava there are gardens dedicated to this great lady.

Victoria Gardens

    This magnificent space you will find next to the Plaza del Ayuntamiento and the Liceo Taoro. Designed by French architect, Adolphe Coquet and commissioned by the Family De Ponte  are filled with an abundance of lush greenery and have the best views over the Orotava Valley.  

Victoria Gardens

   The purpose of this garden was to be the final resting place of the Marquis of Quinta Roja, Diego Ponte Del Castillo in a mausoleum, after being denied a Christian burial by the catholic church because of his connections to Freemasonry. 

    When I visited there, I found it one of the most tranquil places I've ever been. If you ever have the opportunity and want to step back in time, it's a must place to visit.

 

Hope

 

 

    Life isn’t always plain sailing as we all know. Illness can strike unexpectedly and lives can be turned upside down.

    For those who are admitted to the hospital and face a long stay, feelings of despair and abandonment can creep in and trying to remain optimistic is hard.

    All they can do is hope that their future may become brighter than the dark days they are experiencing.

    The poem extract featured today is by John Keats and is about finding ourselves searching for hope and comfort, whilst facing moments of despair.

To Hope

 

When by my solitary hearth I sit,

And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; 

When no fair dreams before my mind's eye flit,

And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;

Sweet hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,

And wave thy silver pinions over my head!

Whenever I wander, at the fall of night,

Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray,

Should sad despondency my musings fright,

And frown, to drive fair cheerfulness away,

Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof,

And keep that fiend despondence far aloof!

 

John Keats  1795-1821