Lanzarote, island of fire -2

It takes only a day to tour the whole of Lanzarote, but a day is

too short a time to enjoy the great diversity of volcanic

phenomena there.

For instance, where else in the world can one dine in a

restaurant that cooks its food with heat that comes from the

bowels of the earth?

Where else can one see vents and fire holes that can be opened

by digging a few meters underfoot, shooting seething

temperatures of 400 degrees Celsius into the air?

Where else can one find a sight stranger than that of a green

lagoon oddly sitting at the mouth of a vast blue ocean?

And where else can one trudge into a six-kilometer volcanic

tube only to attend a concert?

At first glance, Lanzarote comes across as a no man's land. But

a closer look would reveal it to be a virtual museum of

contemporary art.

Nowadays, the island is equated with one name that has made it

a fast-rising tourist destination. Much of its development and

actual configuration have been shaped by the architectural

genius of the late Cesar Manrique, the island's most beloved

artist.

Manrique was the islanders' prime nature advocate, helping

preserve Lanzarote's pristine environment and, at the same time,

showcasing priceless works of art that combine landscape and

architectural elements. A considerable number of his projects on

the island make use of the textures and dark hues of the lava

that colors the environs.

One of his most outstanding works, the Mirador del Rio, a café

built into the side of a cliff, overlooks the awe-inspiring island of

La Graciosa at Lanzarote's northern tip, which has been declared

a seacoast reserve.

Despite its great technical complexity, Mirador strikes the

beholder with its apparent simplicity in the use of circular,

curved or elliptical shapes. Seemingly excavated from the rock,

the building is actually covered by it to look as if it were

naturally integrated into the environment--a philosophy

Manrique applied consistently in all of his art works throughout

Lanzarote. As a matter of fact, the impact of Manrique's

philosophy helped bring about the Unesco's declaration of

Lanzarote as World Reserve of the Biosphere in 1993, a year

after the artist's tragic death.

The same ethos apparently found its way into Manrique's own

humble abode at Tahiche. The house is now a museum, gallery

and center for the Manrique Foundation, which is engaged in

the promotion of artistic, environmental and cultural activities.

Built on a solid river of black lava, the house incorporates some

of the huge bubbles that formed in the rock ages ago but are

now frozen in time.

Among Manrique's last works and now one of my favorite

discoveries is the Cactus Garden in Guatiza, north of the island.

This spectacular ''botanical garden'' features about 10,000

varieties of cacti whose more than 1,400 species trace their

origins to the Americas, Madagascar and, of course, the

Canaries.

The artistic creation was built on an old quarry of extracted

volcanic ashes where an amphitheater stands, such that

observers can admire cacti of various shades, shapes and sizes.

Out of curiosity, I asked a Canarian friend how Lanzarote

residents possibly enjoyed peace of mind knowing a volcano

could erupt anytime. He said, how could people consider

something dangerous when it had been one of the very first

things they laid eyes on?

In fact, Canarians regard El Teide, Spain's highest volcano, as

''Old Father Teide,'' and accord it as much reverence, love and

respect as they do the other volcanoes. The truth is residents

have grown so accustomed to these gentle giants that they

have learned to treasure them not only as life companions but

also as sentinels that keep watch over their little paradise.

For indeed, where can one find a black paradise that is setting

the world on fire? Nowhere else but in Lanzarote. With

additional text by Rex Montemayor Lalata