Why am I so dippy and confused, is it because I is blonde, or because my brain lives in a wibbly wobbly world of its own? Maybe both of those apply but Tenerife must take a share of the blame for confusing and teasing my little pea brain. For example it’s Saturday morning, I’m waiting for around 100 hairy bikers to descend on Los Cristianos and looking forward to a beach front rock concert later on with local Canarian bands playing grunge and heavy metal. How do I pass the time? with a quick snack at Via Vai my daily Canarian haunt at the old beach, and do my ears deceive me, their stereo is belting out Visage followed by Toyah. This onslaught of New Romantic nostalgia is just another reason why I’m a gibbering idiot.
Oh dear does that sound like I’m complaining, I hope not because I love the unexpected and conflicting signals that living on this rock confronts me with every day. Having scoffed and moved on, I found the bikers had arrived in force at the area just before the tunnel linking the old beach area to Las Vistas. The usual lack of Tenerife publicity meant I had only found out about the bikers rally an hour before but the stage at Plaza del Pescadora boasted the insignia of the two biker groups organising the rally and later concert. Take a bow Lobos de Asfalto (wolves of the road) and Satanases del Sur (devils of the south) they certainly brought a good gathering to town.
Are you quaking in your slippers at the thought of big sturdy bikers at a holiday resort? well don’t, The many biker groups in Tenerife are a friendly lot dedicated to their machines and driving off into the fantastic mountain scenery and open roads. Passers by admired the gleaming chrome and metal and the range of Harleys, Hondas, and more, all lovingly cared for. The organisers had set up base at Plaza del Pescadora near the stage for later musical treats, two huge paellas and a dustbin full of ice and beer kept the crew going.
It was all very relaxed and even the statue of the fisherwoman joined in the fun acting as a makeshift hat stand for crash helmets. I could hardly tear myself away from the action but after a sea swim and the hot sultry weather I needed to pop home for food, a cold shower and to download my camera before returning for the rock concert. As Saturdays go it sure beats watching over ambitious chefs and TV football pundits on the box.