"Tenerife" by Mini Mukherjee, acrylic paint on bristol board
Our Smile Project welcomes guest writer and dear friend, Sarah DuRussel-Weston! Enjoy Sarah's reflective tale and please leave a comment - she would love to hear your thoughts!
"Salwater and Sand" by Sarah DuRussel-Weston
“Es muy claro. Mucho claro? Como se dice 'it’s really clear?' " I asked Luis, my unofficial Spanish translator in Tenerife, a Canary Island off the coast of West Africa. I had been in Tenerife for three months already working as an au pair yet I still hadn’t picked up much of the language. I often turned to Luis for assistance expressing myself in the local tongue and he never winced at my far from perfect accent.
“Muy clara," Luis replied with a smile as we both looked out into the glassy and clear water of the black sand beach. The waves that day were gentle and barely stirred up the sand. I took in my surroundings from one angle at a time: The turquoise ocean in front of me, the snowy volcanic peak of the island behind me, and the vibrant flora beneath me. Wading into the cool water waist deep, sand still caked between my toes, I could easily see a mix of colorful stones and dark seaweed several feet ahead of me on the ocean floor.
Six years later, Tenerife is still the most beautiful place I have visited. It is pristine in every sense of the word; the water feels so pure it could make you holy with the slightest splash. During my stay on the Island six years ago, I traveled along the perimeter and experienced the diverse landscape - beaches with magnificent cliffs, views of “cloud forests," and Mount Teide, the temperamental volcano that watched over us all. There was so much to take in here, but I fell in love with the beaches at first sight. I had been tipped by several of my friends that the beaches of Spain were famous, especially those in the mainland port city named Malaga. Luis helped me to plan a trip to visit the following week, and I was eager to get on my way.
Malaga felt incredibly alive compared to the quiet island lifestyle of Tenerife. I was immediately taken by the warmth of the Malagan people and the vibrant street art that seemed to be visible at my every turn. My visit was wonderful, but the Malagan beaches left me unfulfilled. On my first day there I waded into the ocean with no hesitation, just like in Tenerife, only to be greeted by a plastic bag floating in the murky water. As I returned to my towel in the sand, I moved cautiously as to avoid cigarette butts and food wrappers left by previous beach-goers. Unlike the shores of Tenerife, I didn’t feel renewed by the cool water or sand between my toes here. When shopkeepers and other tourists in Malaga asked where I was visiting from, I told them I was living in Tenerife for the summer. One shop owner replied to me “Si Tenerife es muy bonita. Esperemos que no cambia”. “Let’s hope that doesn’t change?” I thought to myself as a twinge of anxiety hit me. Why would it change?
When I returned to Tenerife later that week, I looked at the Island with new eyes and couldn’t ignore how precious and fragile it felt to me. The beauty of the Island was at the mercy of those who enjoy it’s flawless coast. Besides the people who visit the island, Tenerife is affected by our global decisions that are changing the climate. Thoughts of fear for the Island’s health and condition plagued me for days after my return. I visited the beaches but thought “what if this land changes by the next time I visit?” As my time on the Island came to an end, I visited the black sand beach with Luis and his family once more. As the sun set on the horizon, I remember thinking to myself how priceless and fleeting this moment was. Luis said, almost as if he could read my mind, “You have to take it all in, and try to remember every bit of days like this.”