So, I finally graced La Palma island with my presence on the 10th. The flight was an epic half-hour journey, truly a test of endurance. But, oh, the luxury! The generous airline, BinterCanarias, saw fit to bestow upon us the finest in-flight provisions: water, a chocolate square, and a single sweet. One could get used to this level of pampering.
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Now, La Palma island is… vertically gifted, though as locals joke they do have horizontal rain! Every outing is either an invigorating climb that threatens your very soul or a delightful tumble downwards. Imagine going out for few drinks and then having to walk home a steep hill. What an adventure!
I’ve settled in quite quickly as the room was quite small, but with nice view (sometimes when not cloudy). Also on a second day I broke my bed frame when sitting down. It was wooden and I was heavy. I remember laughing with my female flatmate so much about it. Also, next day in the office they were giving strange looks as if the bed frame broke due to some funky business on the bed (which was not true!).
La Palma Island Gym Experience
Speaking of the gym, in a stroke of pure genius, it’s located on a hill and a flight of stairs. Because why make it easy? Just a few humble steps to reach this pinnacle of physical culture. Even my window from the flat was facing the road going up the hill (where the mental hospital used to be).
Inside, it was less “state-of-the-art” and more “straight out of a history book.” If you’ve ever wondered what a Lithuanian gym looked like roughly 25 years ago, wonder no more. The machines are practically cuddling, leaving just enough space for existential dread, about half a meter. The free weights seem to have been scattered by a gust of wind, making navigating the floor a contact sport. It appeared people had achieved a state of zen-like stillness on the machines after their sets. Ah, but the truth was far more strategic! The moment you dared to vacate a machine, it was instantly claimed. My attempts to express my need for a turn were met with polite, albeit incomprehensible, Spanish. Hilarious.
Let’s not forget the welcoming committee: the trainer and the administrator. The trainer, a gentleman of mature years with a physique suggesting a deep appreciation for local beverages, apparently works at night as law enforcement. His trainer uniform? Skin-tight cycling gear. He looked ready to pedal his way out of there at any moment. Turns out, this is peak gym fashion on the island. Who knew? My flatmate, she was from Middle East, was even embarrassed to go to the gym alone and face the owner/trainer alone.
Competitive Gym
The whole place felt less like a gym and more like a runway for questionable athletic wear. The competition for the most eye-catching slogan, particularly on the backside, was fierce. I counted maybe only three women in the entire facility, the rest all men.
A few key takeaways from this fitness paradise:
- The primary goal here seems to be cultivating a truly impressive upper body, competing who get bigger pectorals or biceps. What about the legs you ask? That’s optional, and often comically mismatched.
- About 80% of attendees seemed to be inventing new exercises on the spot, based on the alarming ways their joints were bending. Proper form is clearly a foreign concept.
- Post-exercise cardio? Strictly forbidden. Recovery is for the weak.
- Greetings involve a firm pat on the lower back. Aim carefully; accidental derrière contact is a risk.
- Personal hygiene, specifically scratching, is a public performance art. No need for subtlety here.
Shameful Splash on My Butt
Despite the… unique environment, I did manage to squeeze in a workout. It involved waiting, navigating tight spaces, and embracing the communal spirit of a locker-less changing room. The showers, blessedly, had individual stalls. I was mysteriously warned against using them. Naturally, I plunged in. The floor required a preliminary shower of its own before I dared step on it. And, in a predictable turn of events, I slipped! Thanks to years of Aikido reflexes, I managed to tuck my head, narrowly avoiding a cracked skull on a tile. At least I was dressed!
My third day could have been dramatically shorter. A lucky escape indeed, proving that tempting fate is apparently my new hobby. The resounding “splat” and the horrified faces in the changing room were a truly memorable moment. My back and backside are still staging a protest, but I’m sure they’ll forgive me eventually. It was a good way to make new friends though, as I found out later in the future. As they all would nod their head in the street as sign of “hola”.
Food In La Palma Island
Having successfully navigated the perils of La Palma’s vertical topography and sartorial gym statements, one’s thoughts inevitably turn to sustenance. And here, dear readers, the island’s unique charm continues to… surprise. The culinary scene, much like the gym’s layout, operates on a philosophy that perhaps predates modern nutritional guidelines. Forget the lavish banquets you might associate with, say, mainland Spain. In La Palma, the lunch appears to be calibrated for individuals who subsist primarily on air and existential angst. Personally, a single sandwich for lunch was not enough to keep my hunger at bay until dinner.
I also encountered with a bean stew featuring the surprisingly popular local delicacy of pig’s ears (a dish that, frankly, I thought remained solely within the Lithuanian culinary repertoire) left me pondering the local definition of a “meal” as it is more of a snack in Lithuania.
One must admire the restraint, or perhaps the incredible metabolic efficiency, of the locals. The ubiquitous papas arrugadas, those delightfully wrinkled potatoes, are indeed a starchy comfort, but even their accompanying mojo sauces (they are just the best, especially freshly made ones!), while flavourful, seem designed for dipping a single, solitary spud rather than slathering with wild abandon. Dining out becomes less about indulgence and more about a strategic two-or-three-stop culinary tour just to feel vaguely satisfied. It’s a bold approach to sustenance, certainly, and one that ensures you’ll have plenty of room left for more of that invigorating mountain climbing.
Mental Hospital Without a Roof
Finally, the island’s most intriguing feature: the prevalence of… shall we say, “colourful characters.” I’ve only personally encountered one, but the rumors of many are persistent. Being an isolated island, perhaps it’s just a local genetic trait. “It runs in the family,” as they say, particularly when the family tree is more of a tangled bush. Encounters with self-proclaimed Napoleons and Popes are, apparently, not uncommon in La Palma island. We even called one man, who was always creepily smiling – a well dressed man.
My favourite one was the Moses, who had his hair in a shape of Babel Tower, but not sure when was the last time he washed them. He would walk around with a stick and making bird sounds. Oh yes, another one was always playing music on his portable radio and watching the passing crowd. They are all harmless though. Some say, this is due to recently closed down mental hospital up the hill. Who knows right?
At this rate, I’ll be joining their ranks soon (I had a head start last night, loudly questioning the universe about the shops closing at 9 PM in this island). Well the good thing, the beach is was just 30min walk or and even in winter people are sunbathing and swimming in the sea (around 18°C or 64°F).
The good news, they were apparently building a new city beach and I was able to see the construction from the office building where I was working.
