A leap into the unknown

by Daniella Gill de Mayol (Bulgaria)

A leap into the unknown Canary Islands

A leap into the unknown Being in a pre-booked apartment with your 3 year old was not an application for an adventurous holiday. And pre-booked by your mother-in-law, of all people. She was going to be there too. What a classical set-up for existential boredom. But the place was completely unknown to me. Volcanic island. Jurassic vegetation. Local craftsmanship treasured and preserved. Almost everything the middle class conformism desires. And yet, something told me it was going to be my style of adventure, despite the parental responsibilities and the evident need for hypocrisy. Three days of self-enforced peace and quiet. Polite conversations mixed with mild malicious remarks about the style of parenting then and my god! now. The three year old discovered how to manipulate granny / that word was, of course, not allowed, she is mama, with the accent on the second /, so lots of candies and forbiddens. Good thing was, there was wine, and lots of it too. So I thought it was going to be bearable, at least. Don’t even honestly remember who told me about the cave and most importantly when to enter it. Midnight, full moon is a must, they said. Too drunk to remember who exactly they were at that tavern. So I decided to go, with my three year old. Without telling mama with accent on the second. We basically escaped… We had blankets and torches, smart phones and freedom, moonlight and hope for a good adventure. The entrance of the cave was well lit by the moonlight. Everything was visible and, surprise, surprise, almost exactly as they, from the tavern described it. Magical !!! The feeling was as the Guanche people just left and we were there to witness their sudden departure. The living space was well defined. The fire place was there, although there was no fire anymore. The sitting area around it was well visible too. Then my three year old asked me who actually lives in a magical place like this one. I honestly did not know how to answer it. So I dragged her even further into the cave to save myself from my parental embarrassment. So we went, further in. And the darkness began. Darkness so intent and fluid, it almost stuck to our skin. Suddenly, my tiny daughter noticed something glowing in the darkness. And she started dragging me further inside. The deeper we went, the more phosphorescent the spot became. We were mesmerized, unable to think, we just went, further and further…. It was a plant. Beautiful, delicate and yet enormous in size, unusual, never witnessed by myself in any book or media almost ungodly, extraterrestrial flower. She wanted to pick it of course, I managed to stop her, the very last minute she went near to pull it out of the unseen ground. Then she started crying and I had to hold her. I honestly do not remember how we walked back to the entrance of the cave. I only remember the moment when I noticed her glowing dress and hair. She was glowing like the plant itself. With the same phosphorescent green-to-emerald magnificent aura. I had no time to be scared. It was excruciatingly beautiful. Quickly I managed to drag her to the car and we headed back to the apartment down the village. I put her to bed and stood by her all night watching her beautiful face quietly and calmly succumbing to sleep. She was still glowing; as the down gradually filled the French windows, the glow disappeared. Immediately after sunrise I pulled out my laptop from my travel bag and started researching our adventure. It took me a while to find it, but eventually I did, just before mama with an accent on the second appeared on the doorstep with her cuppa-coffee. Here is what I found: Cereus is a genus of cacti (family Cactaceae) including around 33 species of large columnar cacti. The name is derived from Greek (κηρός) and Latin words meaning "wax", "torch" or "candle". Flowers are large, funnelform, 9–30 cm long, usually white, sometimes pink, purple, rarely cream, yellow or phosphorescent greenish, they open at night, and can glow in the dark…