Carnival

A nun sporting a black moustache and rotund belly grinned as he lifted his arms to allow me to squeeze past. As he did, the contents of his plastic cup trickled onto a Marilyn Monroe look-alike dancing beside him. Marilyn stopped puffing on a cigar and looked up disdainfully at the nun as Rum and Coke ran down his neck.

I was trying to reach the bar of one of four brightly-illuminated refreshment stands temporarily housed in Plaza España, the main square in Tenerife’s capital, Santa Cruz. On a normal day, it was easy to stroll from one pavement café to another, mooching at the handcrafted linens in shop windows along the way. Now, there were thousands of people rubbing elbows with one common aim in mind, to live la vida loca till the small hours.

The queue at the bar was at least four deep, occupied by all manner of revellers in fishnets, high heels and gaudy make-up, their gender belied by the hairy arms trying to catch the attention of the over-worked barmen. Pungent legs of ham hung from the wooden rafters, their aroma mixing with the sweet smell of donuts sizzling in hot oil.

My head was spinning with the cacophony of sights, sounds and smells, but sensory overload is part and parcel of Santa Cruz Carnival, lauded by some as one of the world’s biggest open-air dances, and second only to Rio in terms of colour and chaos.

Those who know the island will know that there is more than enough to see and things do in Tenerife anytime of the year, from the golden beaches of the south to the cobbled streets of the old northern towns; and from the lunar landscape surrounding Mount Teide to the lush trekking playgrounds in the northeast. But coincide your holiday with Carnival time and you also have the chance to play a part in one of the world’s greatest spectacles.

For 15 days the city grinds to a near halt as carnival queens are paraded, satirical pantomimes are performed, big bands boom out raucous beats and city workers shut up shop to save their energy for sundown when the party proper starts.

Earlier in the day, an unusually hot February sun beat down on a never-ending stream of floats, fancy dresses and groups of dancers in luminescent colours all leading the way for the star of the show – the newly-elected Carnival Queen. Musical group after musical group danced and played along the shorefront Avenida Maritima under the eclectic blend of new and old architecture that makes up the Santa Cruz skyline. Each subsequent costume seemingly more elaborate in style and design than the previous one, a combination of elegance and enormity with some head-dresses reaching two storeys into the piercing blue sky.

Whilst the daytime may have been about watching, the night time was certainly more interactive. Pockets of tourists that had travelled to Tenerife from all over the globe just to join in the melee were clearly conspicuous amongst the throes of lithe, hip-swaying locals. Struggling to synchronise their limbs with the unfamiliar Latin beat, they found themselves stuck between the mechanical movements of a school barn dance and bobbing up and down like someone desperate at the wrong end of a lengthy toilet queue.

On my mission to hunt down refreshments, I had left my partner Joy near a row of pipís moviles (mobile toilets), and returned just in time to see her being whisked into the mêlée by an old man with an uncanny resemblance to the late Walter Matthau. She waved a not altogether happy greeting as her surprisingly athletic companion tossed her from side to side.

After a few minutes Joy looked like she was tiring of Walter’s windscreen-wiper choreography. As I approached, Mr. Matthau was gracious enough to share my partner with me, and our pas de trois continued for several more songs until we bid a fond farewell and delved even deeper into the carnival along the side streets spanning off the main Plaza.

Each narrow lane fed smaller squares with an ever-changing throng of party-goers dancing to a new band. Like a kaleidoscope the picture changed constantly. One minute a group of girls dressed as Jungle Book characters would be bopping and hollering to the music, the next they had been replaced by a whole community of faux nuns shaking their stuff. It was impossible to see where the stage finished and the audience started.

But that is what Tenerife Carnival is all about. It’s not about coming to see the spectacle – it’s about being the spectacle. So book your flights and the best Tenerife Carnival hotel, knock back a few Rum and Cokes (if you can get to the bar) and join in one of the greatest shows on the planet.

Tenerife Carnival takes place late February early March. Keep your eye on our Tenerife Events section for specific dates.