Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Bread with palm honey from the Valley of the 1001 palms

@brittarnhild

In the House in the Woods we love homemade bread. I bake all the bread we eat, inspired by my late father in law who proudly said, aged 90? "I have made absolutely all the bread we have eaten in my house for the past 50 years. At least!" These days the bread is extra rich and juicy, as it is flavoured with Palm Honey from La Gomera.

 

Hi, palm honey? What is that? Honey is gathered by bees, it does not come from palms, kind of like maple syrup! I can hear you saying that. And you are right of course, at least to some extent.

I had not heard of palm honey either, not until we started to travel to Tenerife, and then to La Gomera.

La Gomera is, among a lot of other things, an island perfect for hiking. We have very slowly started to explore a few of the hiking routes, and our very first hike took us to The Valley of the 1001 Palms.

Following an old Thomas Cook book which I have, we drove to the village Vallehermoso, tempted by the descriopion of the walk:
This walk is about 3,5kms (2 1/4 miles) combines Gomeran landscapes of lush valleys in deep ravines, overlooked by volcanic rocks, with a charming reservoire. It is suitable for any age and fitness level, although the hill is reasonable steep......

It was steep, believe me, it was. Up and down, then up again and down again. But the lovely landscape made me forget that my knees do not like to much steep downhill.

From Thomas Cook again:
It is doubtful whether anyone has really counted the trees here, but as many are on tap for La Gomera´s famous palmhoney, it is possible (that there are a 1001). Whatever the number of trees, this valley is a splendid sight, particularly in the late afternoon, as the sun shines directly down on it.

Guess what!
I am longing back to La Gomera.

By the way;
palm honey is the sap from the palm tree :-)

 

Two weeks ago

@brittarnhild

Another world. Another time.
We walked over to the black lava beach with our towels. I brought a book, Terje had some suduko to work on. The sun shone down on us, not too warm, but enough to meka my bones believe they were 20 again. A fishing boat came with the day´s catch. The music from the waves was like a symphony.
After a few hours we left our beach towels, put on some clothes and walked the few meters up to a little pizzeria.

 

It is two weeks since we came home from La Gomera, and it is time to start writing the travel tale.

 

The Potter

@brittarnhild

We had passed the house several times without realizing what was behind the enlightened windows. Somehow we had never been looking. But one of the last nights when we passed by on our way back from late afternoon coffee in the village I discovered it was a place well worth exploring.  We clossed the street, climed the stairs and walked through the open doors into an artist´s heaven. The artist himself, a potter was busy painting on some ceramic bowls. He looked up when we came in and greeted us in Spanish. When we answered back in English we soon discovered that his English was quite limited, but with the few words we could share in Spanish, English and German, with smiles and gestures, we had no problems to keep a conversation.

After looking around, it didn´t take us long to know that this was a place where we wanted to buy something. "What about two coffee cups and a small bowl?" I asked Terje. And how could he say no?

While the potter wrapped our purchase carefully, I discovered a bowl of ceramic shells on the counter. "Oh, look, these riminds me so much of Mauro" I picked up a few shells, wanted to feel their shapes, their texture, compering them to glass, feeling the difference and yet seeing the similarity.

After a while I picked up one shell, gave it to the potter and said, "this one is so beautiful, will you please wrap it together with the cups?"

"You buy only one? No, you can not buy only one. Your husband must also pick one. You must have two shells. They are my gift for you. You pay nothing for them. Let me show you why you must have two!"

There and then I knew I had found Mauro´s secret brother, Mauro´s kindered spirit. A glass artist in Venezia. A potter on La Gomera.

 

Unfortunately the potter has no internet page, but I have his email address and will email him this travel tale.

 

And for those of you who don´t know Mauro, you cen meet him here:
GlassHandMade

 

 

After the sun set

@brittarnhild

 

 

 

 

 

 

An island for hiking

@brittarnhild

We picked up a hitchhiker the other day. A smell of sweat and old pipe tobacco filled the car as the Belgian man started to tell his stories. He has come to La Gomera every year since around 1990. Stays for a month, always alone, and spend the days hiking the island. We had a thousand questions to ask and he had a million answers to give. And it was because of one of his tale we found ourselves doing one of the most beautiful hikes I´ve ever done.

We drove from our hotel and up, up, up to the village Arure. There we parked the car just outside a small farm with an amazing bird cage. I could have stood there for a long time listening to the bird singing. By the way, during another hikd we passed a house where they had several bird cages hanging on the outside wall of the house. In one of them was a black bird. I imagine the woman in the house waking each morning to the blackbird singing......or, will the blackbird sing when caged?

 This time our hike was not steep up and down as most hikes here on La Gomera are. Instead we fillowed the ridge on and on and on untill we came to the cliff where we looked right down on the village where our hotel is. No hike if you have a fear of hights.

 

Along the hike we passed several deserted old farms. I hope to do a post about one of them some day (may be over in Blåklokkeveien). We ate our lunch outside one of them, and when I discovered the grass around the house was filled with broken tiles from the damaged roof, I started to pick the most beautiful ones.

"What are you doing?" Terje asked.
"Picking tiles of course, can´t you see that?"
"Sure I can see that. But why? What for?"
"To take home. I will use them in my herb garden."
"To take home????? You are crazy" 

 "Crazy? No, I am not crazy. You mix up the words. I am creative :-)"

When I closed my eyes last night, just before going to sleep, all I could see was lava stones. "Lavastones," Terje mumbled, "I see only broken roof tiles!"

 

Travel writing

@brittarnhild

 

When I travel the days are filled with travel tales. My best souvenirs to take home are the small stories. Those which I do not photograph. Those which might not seen particular at the moment. Sitting down with my diary I try to find words to wrap the tales, enable them to travel back to the House in the Woods with me. Find the right colours. The right moods. In my dream I use these tales, weave them together, tie the ends, let the paint dry. Then one day they turns into a book. A book where I might take you with me. East of the sun. West of the moon.

My favorite travel writer, Frances Mayes, commented on my facebook page the other day: "you are such an amazing traveler!!!"

Her word dusted my travel wings with gold.

 

Terje caught me while writing in my travel diary.

 

Yesterday afternoon our bodies had had enough sun, we decided to explore the island and  drove up north to a tiny little medieval village, Agulo.

The narrow cobbled streets there were filled with tales.

 

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The garden from the day before

@brittarnhild

La Gomera is a small island, with only 23.000 inhabitants, and not very many tourists. A perfect place for us (thgough I see the controversy in us coming here as tourists, praising the lack of them.) Few tourists also means that there are few places built especially for the tourists industry, and also few guidebooks to tell you about the island.

Yesterday we went hiking. While driving around we have been impressed by all the marked hiking tracks. I am sure you could spend years here, following new tracks every single day. We have an old Thomas Cook traveller´s guide though, describing Grand Canaria and Tenerife, and in this book are alsi a few pages on La Gomera. With one walk described. 

It was on our way to the little village where we would start our hike that I found a sign with the words Jardin Botanico. And of course I knew what we would do after our mountain hike.

It turned out to be difficult to find the garden though. Apparently it was closed and long abandonded. A garden from the day before. Nowhere to stop along the road, but down in the narrow valley Terje found a kind of pathway, more like an Ethiopian countryside road, where he manoeuvered the car in a snail´s pace. Coming to a dead end he stopped and decided to have a little nap in the car, while I grabbed my camera and walked out to explore.

First thing I found was a dilapidated bridge over an almost overgrown river. I crawled over, and found myself in an enchanted garden.

Once this must have been a beautiful place. Closing my eyes, feeling the wind, smelling the fragrances, I could inagine part of its old glory.

 

I would love to learn more about the garden, but the only link I´ve found so far is in Spanish, and with the slow wifi I´m having for the moment I have had no chance to translate it. May be you can? Here is the link: Jardin Botanico

And if I find a better internet connaction later today I´ll add a few more enchanted photos.

 

 

Red door into a new world

@brittarnhild

We spent the morning in San Sebastion, the capital of the Spanish island La Gomera. Most things were closed, as this was January 6th, epiphany, Spanish Christmas Day. We knew that already, but didn´t think it mattered much as we are no shoppers anyway. What we wanted to do was to seek out tracks of Christopher Colombus, who had his last stop on this island before he sailed out to reach the end of pancake Earth.

I have followed in Columbuses footsteps before. Many years ago a Venetian gondola took us past the house where he was born, in 1998 I was in Santo Domingo on the island Hispanola, visiting the first European houses which were built there after Columbus and his men arrived. But now we were to see where he set out from the old world, into a crazy adventure, the edge of the pancake.

The church where he said his prayers must been a good start, I thought. The only problem is that even though one wall should be left from the time of the explorer, the rest of the church is new and his prayers must have gone straight to heaven, at least we found no tracks of them.

 

"Let us walk up to this street´s #56", Terje said. "My guidebook writes that one of the few truths thay know about Columbus is that he lived here." "Well, my guidebook says that some people say that, but it is not a truth" I told him back. "And look, there is #20, the house with the well, the well Columbus and his man used to fill up the water tank, now called the well of the water who baptised America" The house was closed and we looked at each other: "Baptisted America? Hasn´t the Hispanic world heard of Laiv Erikson? And what about the people who already inhabited the American continent?

 

In the park we sat down near Torre del Conde, and both our guidebooks agreed that it was here Christopher had an adventure with the most powerful woman on the island.

"Oh, let history be history" Terje suddenly said. "Look at that red door. I want a picture of you in front of it. I know it will be a perfect photo and for sure it will be a part og my, of our history"

 

 

The island of the day before

@brittarnhild

A week in the warm sun. When we first came to Tenerife in 2011, every night we saw the sun set behind a litte island out in the ocean. La Gomera. Next time, we told each other. Next time we want to visit this sunset island. 

Next time came, January 2014, another week on Tenerife and a day trip to La Gomera was on our list. Then I got a stomach bog which meant I spent two nights and the day between in bed, sleeping, vomiting.

 This time we decided to go for different tactics and we booked the whole week on La Gomera.

And here we are. In the sun. In the warmth. Enjoying sunsets and sun rises and all the hours in between.

 

Today is epiphany, the day of the three Magi. Which means that last night was the main day of Christmas celebrations in Spain and in La Gomera.

Last night, after the sun set, we walked over to one of the villages close to our hotel. A village party was going on on the beach. Flame dancers. Drum dancers. Rope jumping. All generations taking part.

 

The island of the day before.
Whjy this title?

Just because I like it.....stolen from a book by Umberto Eco.

 

And as our hotel still has problems with the internet connection, I am writing this from a tiny little pizzeria on San Sebastin, the capital of La Gomera.

 

Under the sun

@brittarnhild

I try to tell myself that I don´t need internet connection every day, I try to tell myself that I don´t need internet connection every day, I try to tell myself..........

......and most of the time I am doing okay. Even if we were told that our hotel would have free internet access.

 

But then I start thinking of all the tales I have to tall you, and I know I am a little frustrated after all.

 

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But the tales are not going away, and will be told......eventually.
Terje and I are spending a week at La Gomera, the smallest of the Canary Islands.