Either there were 180,000 zombies, a mass outbreak of insomnia, or it was Noche En Blanco in La Laguna. This was the third White Night held in the centre of the Tenerife university town just north of Santa Cruz. Basically the white is the lights that attract people like moths to a very exciting flame until 3am, shops, restaurants, museums, galleries, and bars were all open until the wee hours.

The 150 official activities started at 10am on Saturday with lots of family and child friendly events to ease everyone into the action. Heading up via Santa Cruz and then the tram I missed the morning and such delights as the theatrical hairdresser, a canine stylist, and the chocolate fountain (could have been messy) all in the pedestrianised historic centre of town.

Rounding the corner from the tram stop I was nearly garrotted by an aerial runway set up next to a climbing wall that a small child was trying to scale with help and a harness. From then on it just got more bizarre, I went into the Casa de Los Capitanes to pick up a guide booklet, they had a half size copy of Picasso’s Guernica on display – made out of 40,534 pesatas of different nominations. It took five years for the Puerto de la Cruz artist to polish, varnish, and mount his money – not the bloke you want at the post office counter in front of you.

Moving on the streets were already awash with people, as well as the official attractions lots of street performers had set up – everything from living statues to jugglers, face painters, balloon modellers and food stalls sold chestnuts, hot dogs and burgers, even the scouts were knocking out arepas. Many shops had spilled out into the street and were doing fashion displays and make overs – I might have been a challenge too far. Every now and then the crowds would part as young basketball players dribbled down the street, unicyclists wobbled along, or small carriages bounced over the cobbles.

My plans were fluid but I did want to do the tour of the Teatro Leal, the grand theatre built in 1915 and restored to former glories three years ago so I joined a group of 20 on the 5pm trip. A very flamboyant actor from the Burku Theatre group led us inside where the banked four tiers of plush red seating swirled around us as our leader ran through the history. Then leading us onto the stage we took in the full majesty that greets the actors, at a subtle signal to the wings, the front few rows of seats sank below ground level to reveal a small orchestra pit. If I had fallen I could have said it was just a stage I was going through.

Taking the back stage stairs we stopped off to see the compact dressing rooms with rows of individual make up desks and mirrors. Then it was out onto the third tier for a panoramic view of the sea of sets below, one young man went outside looking a bit peeky, vertigo his friend told us. I thought what a wimp, but then we went up to the top tier where the seats were higher than the balcony just in front of them and I kept a firm grip on the arm rests.

Our host was again in full theatrical flow when a lady dressed in finest historical evening wear wandered out on the balcony and introduced herself as the muse of comedy and delivered a little dance and a snatch of Shakespeare. Suddenly on the other side of the chamber another similarly dressed lady appeared holding a dagger and bemoaning her lot in life, this was the muse of tragedy. The two figures exchanged banter as they drifted together and departed, out tragic friend reconciled with stories of her great past performances. It was smashing stuff but one more treat awaited us, a trip up onto the roof to view the dusk of La Laguna as the sound of happy voices wafted up from the street.

Outside it was dark now but the Christmas lights and window displays ensured a magical setting for the next phase. A fire eater breathed a hot trail into the air and a belly dancer gyrated in a doorway, chestnuts glowed and daytime coffees were replaced with beer and wine. Music filled the air and performers seemed recharged as more people poured into the city centre. I enjoyed a few more musical interludes at different stages in the many plazas before heading back down south. The party was destined to run for a few more hours yet, it was a brilliant initiative, full praise to all those who put in so much effort.

I don’t want to get all Prince Charles with you but I do appreciate a striking well designed building and a bit of street art and here in Tenerife we are blessed with some great examples. Taking a different route into Adeje town I got off in the Las Torres area to feast my eyes on the bright modern buildings that have sprung up in recent years. The police station makes a very arresting sight, it could be quite boxy and boring but the different shades of stone work and the landscaped rock and cactus garden make all the difference. mind you i’m still not in a hurry to see the design of the cells.

Driving into Adeje off the Armenime roundabout heads always turn to see the rainbow design on the large concrete building, the bust of Beethoven is a big clue to it’s use. The Escuela de Musica or Adeje School Of Music looks fantastic and must be a real inspiration to young musicians going in to study. It opened in September 2010 but I think the great composer’s statue used to be outside the old school over the other side of Adeje but this is probably Beethovens last movement.

Heading up the road into the heart of Adeje there is the stark minimalist block that is the Iglesia San Jose de Los Olivos, it seemed to take years to finish this church and it was fenced off for a long time. I’ve grown to like it in recent years, it makes a bold statement and a look around the sides reveals traditional if small stained glass windows. The crowning glory of Adeje town must be the wall murals, a wonderful tribute to the traditions and culture of the past, and painted on the side of living buildings where families are now living.

The biggest murals are in the Piedra Redonda childrens playground in the centre of Adeje, the main one of the crafts people were designed by Conrado Diaz Ruiz and completed over the first three months of 2011. The artwork looks very similar on the other unsigned works but whoever produced these artisitic wonders has my awe and admiration. Piedra Redonda (the round mill stone) has its own pride of place and for another mix of ancient and modern the revamped Plaza de España at the top end of town takes some beating. It all makes for an uplifting mix and keeps luring me back to one of my favourite towns in the south.

Blimey where did that come from, the forecast was decent for today so after letting a small storm pass over I hit Las Vistas beach as the sun peaked from around an average sized black cloud. A few big plops of rain didn’t disturb me or several other swimmers enjoying the calm green flag sea at Los Cristianos. Suddenly a wall of water began to pelt down, no thunder, no lightning, just huge spots covering the sea surface with large crescent splashes dancing a frantic jig. This was like a rallying cry to a good sprinkling of youngsters who charged down the sand to wallow in the mix of sea and rain, although it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began.

The sea was still calm but my vision was suddenly reduced like someone had drawn a frosted shower curtain around me. It was quite exhilerating, to one side I could see people scampering for shelter at the back of the beach, towels and trainers left to sink or swim, and to the other I could just see a few murky shapes out to sea, was that a ship or Noahs Ark? Finishing my swim I pitched up on the beach and grabbed my plastic bag, which had protected most of my belongings, and sprinted with all the dignity I could muster to find cover at the rear of the sand. The disabled changing hut was open and crammed so I joined them as others sheltered below the overhanging lifeguard station watching a river pour down the steps from the promenade.

By now the sun had joined the party and was sending it’s watery rays down to make the scene even more bizarre. I took advantage of a slight lull and walked along the promenade which was flowing well, manhole covers had popped like corks revealing a frothing muddy jacuzzi that wasn’t tempting anyone, it ponged a bit as well, and shops were already sweeping back the tide. I sheltered at The Breeze Inn and finished dressing, I didn’t fancy wading through the yucky water. A few phone calls confirmed that this was a very localised storm, it hadn’t touched Fañabe and certainly not Los Gigantes on the west coast. Wet feet once again in my trainers I began to head through the tunnel, more like a sheep dip, to the old beach, the sand there was nearly covered in one big puddle but at least the seagulls were happy at the rich pickings.

Hovering over Guaza Mountain was another dark brooding cloud heading in so I stepped up the pace and made the Valdes Centre just in time for the next batch of rain. This was a pale imitation of the earlier downpour and soon fizzled out, but not before leaving a terrific rainbow over the roundabout fountain. I was confident that the Arona council workmen and business owners would soon see off the worst effects of the deluge so turned my mind to getting home. One end of the rainbow seemed to arch down onto my apartment balcony, I couldn’t wait to collect my pot of gold, the spell must have been broken by the time I got in because all I found was soggy socks and slippers. Never mind.

Even in Tenerife a little rain must fall now and then, that’s how I came to be dodging spots up north on another day of story gathering for Tenerife Magazine. It had already been a busy slightly soggy day with a tram ride to La Laguna to visit the Instituto de Astrofisica de Canarias for some science, and back to Santa Cruz to fly around like a culture vulture chasing sculptures in galleries and in the street, but more of that at Tenerife Magazine.

The capital city’s port is always on my list of calls and I knew the Russian four mast sailing ship Kruzenshtern was in port for a few days and about to depart within hours for Vigo on the Spanish mainland. Luckily a mad dash brought me to its mooring spot and as it loomed over me I could see it was a hefty piece of work. I’m sure you want the technical details so here we go, it was built in Germany in 1926 and is a Russian Navy training ship or barque to be precise. Kruzenshtern is 114.4 metres (375 foot) long, 51.3 m (168 ft) high, weighs 3,141 tons and can go at 17.3 knots (32 km/h or 19.9 mph). It would have been lovely to see all the sails deployed but on this dull wet day there was little chance of that.

The gangplank was down but sealed off and manned by young recruits, I gave a hearty ahoy there and tried to blag a tour on board with a mix of Spanish and English. The answer was a firm no but one poker faced joker said if I came back tomorrow I could get a tour – it would of course be far out in the Atlantic by then and my swimming isn’t quite that good. I settled for a few quick discreet photos, not wanting to wake up in a salt mine many miles away. I wonder what the 257 crew did with their time in Santa Cruz, hopefully they managed to enjoy a few of our decadent ways.

There is nearly always a nautical surprise or two in Santa Cruz, this time it came in the form of two German war ships moored on the far side beyond the security fences. The Sachsen was partly hidden by a pleasure cruiser but the Schleswig Holstein (above)Â was standing proud ready to be identified. The two ships are Brandenburg class frigates built in the early 1990’s, both 138.9 metres long capable of 29 knots and carrying 220 crew. They pack a punch with anti air and submarine weapons and exocets to see off any hostile ships. The pair had arrived from Tema in Ghana and were ready for a quick departure to Souda in Greece.For now though it was my turn for a quick departure on the good ship Titsa back to Los Cristianos – steady as she goes.

The art of enjoying a traditional Canarian romeria is to soak up the atmosphere without treading in any of the trimmings left by the parade of sturdy farm animals. There’s always so much to enjoy for all the senses at these celebrations of agriculture and the fruits of the land and Adeje packed them into the centre of the old town on a gasping hot October afternoon and evening.

Plaza del Cerco guarded at each end by statues of a Guanche and a bombero (fireman) was already buzzing when I arrived, oxon and horses were being groomed, carts were being decorated and the all important planchas and grills were already cooking bbq’s on board as the wine started to flow. Musicians were tuning up with drums, timple (small guitars) and accordians but amidst the old customs ladies checked state of the art mobiles and rallied the troops by text. The local supermarkets had never been busier with ice creams and cold drinks needed to quench thirsts as the afternoon sun beat down.

With the oxon and donkeys chomping at the bit it was time for the big parade up into Calle Grande, the dancers led the way in a blaze of colour as they slowly inched their way up the packed main street. Many people had arrived early and found good vantage points at the tables outside the bars and cafes, tapas and full meals were whizzing out of kitchens and the livestocks nostrils were twitiching as they lumbered along their route. I have been to many of the annual performances of The Passion on Good Friday but Calle Grande seemed more densley packed for this celebration.

Approaching the top of the street the scene was set around the church with timple players strumming their instruments and the saints statues taking pride of place at the top of the steps. Each cart and its followers took their turn to receive blessings as fresh fruit and vegetables were offered up as examples of the bounty of the land. Among the blessings and rousing cheers for San Sebastian and Santa Ursula there was a special warmth and empathy for the people of El Hierro as a wave of goodwill was sent towards the seismically troubled island.

As the formal procession broke up the wine and beer flowed around the church square with its magnificent setting against the backdrop of Roque del Conde. The last stragglers of the carts were taking their time negotiating the deposits on the road while dishing out cups full of wine and plates full of meat and potatoes. Dancing was breaking out in small groups as the wine worked its magic and the large stage was set for a long night ahead. Once again in Tenerife the best pleasures proved to be the natural ones.

Wasn’t like this in my day, all this was fields when I was a lad etc, etc, I’m trying not to turn into an old moaning git so I am keeping an open mind for my visit to Oxford. Yesterday I paid a visit to the old Oxford prison, these days converted into a trendy shopping and eating area, I have been before since the big conversion about 6 years ago and to be fair it does look pretty good.

I missed out on the Food & Wine Festival by a few days and a look at the brochure showed me what treats had eluded me – there was live music from Mr Whippy and The Conettes, but by the time I got there they had melted away. I did spot an interesting sculptured multi coloured rhino hiding in the undergrowth, apparently it is part of “an ambitious project to create a trail of these rhinos around Oxford” I don’t know how the city has survived so long without these beasts. Close to the beast and built into one of the old prison wings (on a quiet day you can hear the ghostly cries of prisoners in the showers) is the O3 Art Gallery which featured a display of Cornish landscapes and some very over priced bright snazzy wall hung paintings.

Popping out through a back entrance I found myself down by the old mill stream and the site of the old Morrells Brewery, sadly all that remains is the ornate sign over the yards gateway, the inner workings of the source of the fuel of my youth has gone. Posh apartments now look out onto the stream and its tributeries near the wonderfully named Quaking Bridge where ducks dodge floating rubbish and the odd drowning tramp. I was impressed though with the wrought iron work on the side of the car park, very cool with its bird motif. The old Brewery Gate pub is boarded up but a recent sign says under offer, maybe a ray of hope although it’s more likely to become a trendy food and drink outlet with no real ale.

Progress they call it, but let’s not be too cynical as one of my favourite pubs, Far From The Madding Crowd is itself a revamped unit in the side of a large department store and serves great real ale. As luck would have it their Autumn Ale festival is on this week, a good excuse to stop off in the evenings and sample some fine like Thames Tickler and Dark Side Of The Moose. Cheers

Well another Saturday afternoon and there I was bobbing up and down on the deck of a Colombian training ship in Santa Cruz. That wasn’t part of the original plan but what’s the odd diversion or two when your having fun. I was up in Santa Cruz to cover the Sal2 promotional day for Tenerife Magazine, loads of shops throwing open their doors with special offers, live music, and lots of food offers.

I was sat in Plaza Candelaria listening to a few bands warming up and noticed in the paper that the Colombian triple mast training ship Gloria was in port, so I had to have some of that. Looking out from the top of the Fred Olsen ferry terminal I could see the masts over by the quayside where the cruise liners tie up, and not knowing whether I could get up close I tried my luck and headed for the port gate, normally manned by a jobsworth security guard. Getting nearer it became clear that people were streaming back with posters and other goodies tucked under their arms – goodie it was open house.

Let’s get technical, Gloria was built in Bilbao, Spain in 1968 and the crew of 160 included 77 cadettes literally learning the ropes.Striding up the gang plank I was welcomed aboard by the white uniformed crew and made very welcome, the decks were split level and loaded up with brasses, tightly coiled circles of rope, and lots of freshly scrubbed floor boards. The tallest mast is 40 metres and even without the sails rigged they looked damm impressive and a little scarey to me. The information room below deck had loads of hand outs and a detailed glossy colour booklet with all the facts about the proud ship. The current voyage was of over 5 months, 10 countries and 14 ports including Waterford in Ireland, and Greenock and Lerwick in Scotland. next stop was Martinique, I was tempted to stow away but remembered how queasy the boating lake in Oxford uded to make my feel.

Leaving the ship I decided to walk away from the flow and Santa Cruz centre to see what the grey battle ship was just around the corner. It was quite a surprise to see the name Black Rover written on the stern end and London underneath. Moving round to the gang plank I shouted up and a British crew member answered and came down to chat. Turns out the Black Rover A 273 is part of the British Royal Fleet Auxiliary and spends its missions servicing and supplying naval ships often in very rough conditions. In Santa Cruz for a week, the Swan Hunter built in Wallsend, Newcastle 40 years ago had come in from the Falklands and was heading back to home base in Portland, Dorset.

I didn’t go aboard but was invited back to get permission from the duty officer, sadly I will be away during their stay in Tenerife. Most of the 70 crew were off on shore leave but I extended an invitation to join the Armada Sur pre game the next day, apparently most of the crew are football mad scousers. With duty calling me back to Sal2 i headed back into the city but hope to nose around a few more ships whenever they pass this way.

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.

Who needs a reason to go off wandering in Tenerife, sometimes it’s just nice to re-visit some favourite places, there’s always something new to see, and sometimes it’s good to look closer at places I may have taken for granted. With this in mind I arrived in La Laguna, stepping off the tram at La Trinidad a cool breeze blew down the road and the temperature flashed up as 24 degrees, quite a drop from the sizzling south.

Wandering through the main pedestrianised streets the number of tourists exploring was well up on normal, I found myself heading for the Torre de la Concepcion, a familiar landmark at the top end of town. It seemed years since I last scaled the tower that dates back to 1697 but noticing the clock about to register 1pm I held back to let the bells ring out, my ears could manage without a close up accoustic blast. It’s a bargain one euro to climb the five flights of tight twisting stairs to the bell gallery, there is another level higher but its sealed off, the masonry looks a bit crumbly these days. The breeze was even fresher in the tower as it blew in between the old stone balconies but the views were rewarding, out to the mountains inland, across to the north airport without its cloak of low cloud for once, and out into town over the bustling streets and changing skyline of the Bishops Palace pushing on with its restoration since the big fire. Back down at the entrance lobby a large sign advised “No Ringing Bells Or Throwing Rubbish from The Tower” you would think people didn’t need telling! The tower is open daily, except Mondays, from 9am to 5pm.

Back in town I stopped for a coffee and a drink and watched the world scurry by, La Laguna centre is a lovely historic collection of buildings showing off the best in canarian architecture. Even the Tourist Information Centre is inside the Casa de Los Capitanes Generales with its ornate fountain and plaza overlooked by old timber balconies. as I headed back to Santa Cruz on the tram (just 1.05 euros) I passed the modern campus of the University, developed with sensitivity and style to fit in with its older surroundings.

Plaza Weyler was my chosen destination coming into Santa Cruz, I still can’t work out where the lady sits on the tram strumming a chord on her harp as she announces each stop. Wow the heat hit me like a wave, 33 degrees in the capital but the plants and flowers in the plaza looked wonderfullywatered and well tended as always. My green fingers were twitiching and my feet led me off the short distance to Parque Garcia Sanabria the secret garden of Santa Cruz. The park gets regular criticism in the media for neglect, true the fountains were off and some parts look a bit worn but a works department van was parked in the main artery and a couple of men were trimming the grass. Not a massive area the park is packed with surprises, leafy walkways lead to strange sculptures, small plazas with historical murals on sturdy benches, and wonderous plants and flowers.

At the front entrance the flower clock is a real beauty and the kiddies train a little gem that sadly I’m too big for. The cafe and its large terrace is a perfect place to take a rest and it was here I discovered a poster and listings for free family film shows on week nights at 9.30 pm through the summer to 2 September. I hope it gets the support it deserves, what a wonderful way for a family to round off a summers day, they even have a burger and drink for 3 euros offer. Heading down into the centre of Santa Cruz I passed the large metallic sculpture in Plaza Patriotismo and for the first time realised the metal shapes were fish, that made me smile, another find and further proof that even familiar Tenerife places are worth a closer scrutiny.

A quick glance at the port and the ongoing work on Via Litoral before I strolled back to the bus station, lucky me the 110 Titsa express to Los Cristianos pulled in and for the second time in a day I made the trip in just under an hour and for a mere 5.10 euros on my bono ticket.

Did you ever try to make a kite from brown paper and sticks or try one of those brittle Texaco Flyers that petrol stations were knocking out? Things have soared to another level now and kiteboarding is a top sport combining kites and small surf boards that allow riders to defy gravity, just add wind for action.

Sadly on Tuesday morning the start of the PKRA Masters and Spanish Championship in El Medano was delayed to mid afternoon as the wind was wheezing like a long term smoker. I pitched up and the wind perked up, a familiar tale, it was still hardly wild but I got some pics and interviews for Tenerife Magazine. The numbers were down on those originally announced, for 150 try 20 riders, but it was good fun and I managed not to get tied up in the kite strings.

Roll on to Thursday and I was back for another look, this time the wind was growling, down at the beach it was like being sand blasted by Mother Nature. Nice to see some of the female riders, Spains Cristina Resinas and Angela Peral definately added some glamour to proceedings. The Reina beer promotion girls also put the wind in my sails and with a beer stall on hand it was a great way to spend an afternoon. At one point I adjourned to the nearby cafe El Mosquito for a cold drink and repite from the wind, there were beer crates stacked in the gents, sadly empties otherwise I might have settled in for a few hours. I splashed some water on my face as it was caked in sand and dust but I didn’t check the mirror, it was only later I realised I had only made slight inroads into natures face pack and now had a bizarre streaky look.

Back on the beach the riders were packing away for the day, it finishes on Saturday, there was much tugging on strings and fighting to save the advertsing hoardings as several keen riders popped a few more tricks out on the water. I sunk into a sweet creamy pancake at La Boheme and then hung around at the main beach for the Moda Al Aire fashion show, the catwalk had been set up on the edge of the busy beach and a crowd was gathering. Bang on time at 6pm the speakers burst into life with some snappy dance tunes as three young ladies took to the stage and gyrated their bodies. They only seemed to have 3 songs that kept repeating, one seemed to be called I Like Dance but the more I listened the more it became I Like Darts maybe its a new clubbing trend. A couple of local girls were up and boogieing in front of the stage and to everyones amusement they were joined by a local drunk nutter busting some moves. The unexpected dance star used the dad at a wedding technique and only just avoided falling over the sound system lead, full marks though for artistic interpretation.

After 40 minutes of the music and dance the 20 young local models were still waiting in the wings and I had to scoot to get the 483 quick Titsa back to Los Cristianos. The fashion shows are on for 3 evenings and should help to boost trade at the shops supplying the clothes. From the dancing and music that I witnessed I can definately say it’s much better than Punch and Judy.