Like a whirpool, it never ends
Turning off the GC-2 onto the GC-160 and a familiar earworm from my student days returns to invade my mind. Yes, that of Vic Reeves and The Wonderstuff’s Dizzy. Especially as I’m on Global’s 117 bus, heading from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria to Moya, and the GC-160 features more bends than Silverstone.
The horn on the bus goes beep, beep, beep
Indeed, so curvaceous is the GC-160, that the driver hits the horn with such regularity. To the extent that the noise mutates into a slice of electronica in its own right. So even if you forget your iPod, you’ll have a soundtrack to wile away the time.
Satisfying the munchies Moya style
Moya’s famous for its bizcochos and suspiros. Both are cavity creators with the bizcocho a sponge-finger type sweet delight and the suspiro more of a meringue. Many Canarian’s midnight feast of choice is dunking a bizocho in a glass of fresh-from-the-fridge milk. Try it; you will like it.
Moya’s setting’s amazing. I’ve arranged to meet a local English-speaking teacher Isabel Guillen who’s showing me round town. The views from the stunning-in-its-own-right Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria overlooking the Barranco de Moya (Moya Ravine) will leave you gasping for breath. Other architectural highlights include the traditionally Canarian Casa-Museo Tomás Morales where the poet was born and the Heredad de Aguas (the Water Board), a two-story building made of basalt.
Fit and they know it
As Isabel escorts me back to the bus station, I can’t believe the number of locals we see either setting off on a walk or returning from one. The journey from urban to rural is rapid here and those who live in this northern outpost take advantage of this. So our verdict on Moya? Well worth getting giddy for.