Chaos, Crowds and Clarity: Notes from a Mid-Atlantic Isle
Posted on July 04, 2008 @ 12:37 PM
Words by James Pribram • Photos by Will Henry
I remember him well, sitting there on those stairs, motionless. He looked to be thinking about heaven and hell, as if he were staring into a face full of invisible eyes. His arms were covered with tattoos, his face consumed by a rat’s nest of long, scummy hair. His breath smelled like he’d been dead for 10 years. I knew him well, but then again I didn’t. He didn’t live in this world; he had his own – a world of imagination that he celebrated alone, which was visible only through his eyes. The driving force for that eternal moment of his life – only for today, never dreaming of tomorrow – was the power of his mind. A fascinating mind, always at work, asking and questioning … what was it that made one’s worth?
He questioned humanity. He asked me that day, “Do you think I’m dumb?” Then he added: “And if so, why? Is it because I’m not part of the farm? Not one of the cattle, standing in line with my hand out, like the rest of them? Are you a product of your money with your big homes and fancy cars? Can you buy yourself, too? Or do you know who you really are? Are you an individual who speaks from the heart and not from your wallet? Do you dress to please or just to be? Are you part of the garden or just another tree?”
Here I was some 15 years later, wondering if this was what my old best friend had been talking about? It hit me in the head like a ton of bricks. It was here that I began to rethink things myself – here in the Canary Islands, on the island of Tenerife, caught inside in the chaos of Play de las Americas.
Perhaps it was the local history – that the Romanians ran the drug trade through here – that I thought of my old friend Tanner. He was once just like me; he lived and loved the sport of Hawaiian kings. Too bad for him that he traded in his surfboard for long stints in prison. Surfing has always kept me straight.
Although Tanner’s whereabouts is unknown to me now, I could imagine him being here with me, pointing at all the fat Europeans walking in every direction like ants hassled out of their secret dens. It actually pains me right now in writing this… thinking about Tanner, once known as the nicest person you could hope to meet, who traded in his life and surfboard for cocaine.
Play de Las Americas
From daytime to nighttime, from the shore to the ocean, contradictions scream in every direction. Beginning with the boardwalk that runs through it, las Americas is littered with people, surrounded by stores, fi lled with ugly signs all jumbled together, a chaos whipped up like mashed potatoes in hell … I
can’t stop thinking to myself that this is nothing like the Canary Islands I’d imagined .
The ocean lies nearby in sharp contrast. It sparkles under the sun’s warmth, textured ever so lightly with just a whisper of breeze. A dark blue sea sits out there in peace, its eternal presence guarded by the locals that ride her every day. Strange as it might seem, this would be like protecting Space Mountain at Disneyland.
You walk through town (las Americas) in the daytime and you can feel the spirit and the ghost of the night before. They had played hard and partied harder in the strip clubs and brothels. You can feel it and see it in the neon fl ashing lights where it seems that trouble is forever hiding just around the corner. The locals talk about the African immigrants, setting sail and risking it all to make it to one of the Canary Islands. Dangerous, they say … even
ruthless. They line the boardwalk selling things and bugging the passersby under the watchful eyes of the police, who are sure to keep them moving. It’s a cycle that repeats over and over, like an old friend who keeps going back to the drug they call cocaine.
So strange the way some countries can make you feel. This place, Tenerife, is strange. The vibe is strange. The waves were great, but now it’s time to move on.
Luckily, in today’s world, you can get in a car and drive to wherever it is you want to go. So it was that on an overcast, somewhat windy day we headed up Tenerife’s biggest attraction, the snow-covered volcano that rises 3,000 feet above the ocean.
With Will Henry (director of Save the Waves) and film-maker Vince Deur along for the trip, I felt like a kid on some sort of field trip as those two split the driving. My sense of direction is horrid and with all the confusing roundabouts here, I’d just as soon sit back and give Vince a hard time about his
driving. I’ve suffered too many concussions to drive in these circuslike conditions (at least that’s what I tell them).
As we drove the winding road up the mountainside, the atmosphere of the island began to change. Stunning views opened up beneath us as the day changed from warm to cold. Near the top, the slopes were covered in pine trees, and a forest of lava rock spilled down from the volcano towards the surrounding ocean, glistening far below.
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