Los Grupos "la Olla Express" y "Calima" participaron en este pequeño festivalillo realizado en la Nave 8 de Alicante. Actuaciones y entrevistas a estos grupos. dur. 11 min. 2007

Os invitamos a participar en una acción solidaria y disfrutar de un concierto de Calima, el próximo jueves 15 de Mayo en la Sala Luz de Gas de Barcelona.

Recuerda: el jueves 15 de mayo en la sala Luz de Gas

35° before 09.00 and the temperature rising reaching 41° by midday. Crazy temperatures are being quoted like 55°. Seems impossible, but not beyond the realms. It’s a heat which pervades your brain, making it difficult to think; impossible to do anything physical. Everywhere is a tinderbox, a disaster waiting to happen, which only requires one careless moment. Fires are already raging on La Gomera, fanned by the hot dry air and strong winds which we experienced here yesterday. The calima has spread westward since Thursday, pumping up the heat with a fiery wind which gusted at up to 80 kph, taking our chimney with it. The wind seems to have past us now, leaving a fiercely hot stillness in its wake and the white hot sky is starting to show signs of blue, evidence that the calima has possibly run its course.

It might not be what anyone visiting Tenerife wants to hear, but what we really need now is some rain, just to cool things down again.

You know it’s calima when... you’re woken at 6 am by the sound of the wind howling and a sizeable proportion of the garden and the banana plantation next door is swirling in mini tornadoes around the house while your windows and doors are rattling like a thief looking for a way in.
When you finally give up on sleep, haul yourself to your feet and in your heat-induced torpor open the doors to the terrace wide and hot air rushes in to replace the, what you now realise was only tepid, air.

You know it’s calima when... your chimney’s where it should be when you go out to watch the match and when you come back it’s on your front terrace in a pile of crispy leaves.

You know it’s calima when... you go up to La Laguna to watch Echo and the Bunnymen in concert; it’s an outside venue, you’re wearing a T shirt and jeans and you’re breaking a sweat before a note has even been played.
A hot night in La Laguna… that’s when you know it’s calima.

Übrigens: Der fast schon als Redewendung anerkannte Satz "Ya lo veremos" ist typisch für Situationen, in denen es a) nicht so darauf ankommt und b) dem Sachverhalt eine gewisse Zeitdauer zuerkannt wird. Mit dem Wörtchen "lo" wiederum, können wir im Deutschen sowohl "es" wie auch "das" Sinnzusammenhänge referenzieren. 

Acecha el fantasma de los incendios ocurridos en verano en las Islas Canarias, y por eso en un comunicado, el Cabildo de Tenerife ha prohibido hacer fuego en las áreas recreativas ubicadas en la zona forestal de la Isla debido a la alerta meteorológica en la que se encuentra el archipiélago y en la que se prevén temperaturas superiores a los 30 grados centígrados, calima y vientos del este a sureste moderado con intervalos de fuerte en medianías, zonas altas y nordeste.

De este modo, los operarios del área de Medio Ambiente procederán al precinto de los fogones ubicados en las áreas recreativas de la Corona Forestal, Anaga y Teno para evitar los riesgos de incendio forestal.

It was one of those days when everything seemed to be happening. A deadline for a regular walking feature was looming close and calima and high clouds on Tenerife for the last couple of weeks had ruled out the chance of any decent photos, until yesterday. So the day started with a three hour hike along an old merchant’s trail on the island’s northern coast. Trouble was Spanish TV was screening the Tottenham v Man Utd game, so we had to hot foot it home for that; the sweat barely had time to dry under the rucksack straps.

Man Utd had hardly managed their last gasp escape when it was time for an early dinner of Mediterranean pitta pockets (a semi home made concoction of flat breads filled with mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, red onion, sweet pepper, fresh basil and oregano which is lightly fried in olive oil). Delicious and quick; essential given that Carnaval’s opening parade was due to start at 20.00 (or so it said in the official guide).

Andy and I work on the basis that nothing, but nothing starts on time here – it’s a pretty sound principle, so we didn’t drive to Puerto until nearly 20.30. Unfortunately, by that time, there wasn’t a parking space to be found in, or near the town. The nearest spot we could find was in the La Paz district above the town, a 15 – 20 minute walk to the centre, most of which is down stairs; it’s okay going down, but a killer on the thighs on the way back up. We eventually reached the town centre about ten to nine and guess what? The parade had only just started.

There were about 1500 people in the parade; dancing troupes in wildly colourful costumes, cute kids in even cuter costumes and the stars of the show, the Carnaval Dames and Carnaval Queen wearing…a smile and not much more.
The only problem was that the drivers of the floats carrying the queens seemed to think they were in the Daytona 500 (I suspect because they started late and were trying to make up lost time). Each one sped past the spot where we were standing, giving me just about enough time to take one photo per float before they were gone.

It did mean, however, that the parade finished quickly. We legged it backed to La Paz, drove home (now about 22.00), stuck on some Ministry of Sound, poured a vodka sprite, laid out all our potential fancy dress clothing and decided it was time to think about what we were going to wear to the opening street party.

Two hours later, two ghoul/witch/monster thingys were striding through the banana plantation next to our house on the three kilometre walk into town.

It was near one in the morning by the time we hit Plaza del Charco; probably still a bit early for seasoned Carnaval veterans, the streets hadn’t filled to the point where it takes an aeon to move anywhere (that happens about 03.00).

After that, we salsa’d our way (or, in my case, a stiff legged, British version of it) around the three streets where the partying takes place, checking out the weird, wonderful and occasionally, lewd, rude and highly amusing costumes all around.
The thing about Carnaval is that it’s such an incredible high. Even when it reaches its peak and you’re jostled and bumped by the swaying mass of friendly beaming creatures around you (at one point I became far more intimate with a trumpet around someone’s waist than I was comfortable with) it’s impossible not to be swept away, almost literally, by sheer wave of joy that engulfs the place.

Somewhere at very-early-in-the morning o’clock, my legs screamed that enough was enough and we decided that it was time to wend our weary, but ecstatic way back home.

As always, the first night of Carnaval exceeded all expectations. It was hard work and, at this point, I’m not sure I’ll survive the week, but it was great fun, honest, despite what my body’s telling me today.

I took this photograph at Parque Taoro above Puerto. It’s a favourite spot for joggers and even with the air thick with the Sahara’s finest, there were still some diehards trotting around the dusty tracks, ironically filling their lungs with sand in their quest to stay fit - not the most sensible of activities during calima.

The rains may have failed to appear but the chestnuts haven’t. As the sun bids its hazy adieu to the day, the white-out of calima is replaced by the fragrant smoke of a dozen braziers, fired up to white hot and topped with small clay pots in which sweet chestnuts are roasting. When darkness falls, the pyramids of ash beneath each brazier show their fiery hearts and sparks fly from the fires like mini volcanic eruptions. Brows wet, clothes stained with ash while gloved finger and thumb test the chestnuts for readiness, men and women tend the braziers and feed the busy stalls that line the front of the harbour.
Small skewers of spicy pork kebabs (pinchos) sizzle on grills alongside wine vats from which the year’s new wine is dispensed in small plastic cups.
It’s the prelude to Christmas; from December the lights will be turned on and thoughts will turn to the holidays and preparations for the festivities. But for now, as the fiesta of San Andrés approaches, it’s a time to savour the sweet chestnuts and new wine and to spend evenings on the harbour and in Plaza Charco enjoying the warmth of the bonus summer nights.
Tomorrow the rains may come.