The Tourist Centers continue to inspire the short stories of the Radio Lanzarote contest

The contest, whose deadline to participate will end on August 31, has added new stories in recent days

August 11 2020 (10:29 WEST)

The Tourist Centers continue to inspire the short stories of the Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero contest, which has continued to receive stories in recent days. The deadline to participate in the tenth edition of the contest will remain open until August 31. 

Those interested can send their stories to the email concursorelatos@lanzarotemedia.net, with a maximum length of 100 words, including the title if it has one. On this occasion, it is proposed to write a story that takes place inside one of the Tourist Centers of Lanzarote, whether it is the Montañas del Fuego, Jameos del Agua, the Cueva de los Verdes, the Monumento al Campesino, the Jardín de Cactus, the Mirador del Río or the MIAC-Castillo de San José. 

Each author may send a maximum of five stories, which may be signed with a pseudonym, although they must always indicate a name and a contact telephone number. The stories will be published in order of receipt in La Voz de Lanzarote and will be read in the 'Reading on the Radio' space of Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero.

The decision of the contest, which will be made public in the second half of September, will be made by a jury made up of journalists from Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero and La Voz de Lanzarote. The winner will receive a prize of a weekend for two people at the Hotel Boutique Isla y el Mar in Puerto del Carmen, while the second prize will consist of a dinner for two people at the Castillo de San José and the third prize winner will receive a meal for two people at the Monumento al Campesino.

In addition, on this occasion there will also be a prize for the fourth classified, who will be able to enjoy a Premium experience in the Tourist Centers.

 

To César

The authorities and urban developers wanted to lash out at the island. César, as a knight errant, fought against them, built his native land, with his own weapons.

Your characteristic features were formed by a respectful dialogue with natural means and local architecture, with modern conceptions.

Despite not knowing the Jameos del Agua, I know it is a magical place. I admire you, since I learned about your work, thanks to the internet. César, you won the battle. Your being is still alive there on the island, on your island. If everything improves, I will fulfill my dream, my footprints will tread your Lanzarote land.

 

Without Title

We are all little brothers. We are orange like the volcanoes, like the cushions of Jameos del Agua. We are very happy in our small lagoon where the smallest tourists sometimes find us. The big ones usually pay more attention to the main protagonists of our house. The Great-Grandmother said that when Cesar put the last lava brick on the ground, all the cacti began to congratulate him. Since then, every night, “the Male and Female” dance bathed in pleasure remembering the days when they saw each other for the first time.

 

Without Title

My love rests, rocked by the Hervideros of your sea, here it was born, here it left

My hair flies again caressed by your breeze, you recovered that privilege after the illness but...you kept it, you also loved it, like me, and here with the two of us I will stay.

Thank you Cesar for teaching us how to see and not just look …

 

Without Title

Volcanoes, lava, the sea, colors, silence or wind. We travel the spiral of life, heartbeats in the form of boiling water, behind this place, we cross La Geria to reach the Farmer's Monument, architecture and crafts. Heading north, visit an amphitheater of cacti, continue the journey to a volcanic tube, where we are flooded with rocks in colors, it holds a disguised mystery, on the way to another volcanic tube where the roof has come off “Jameo” and part connects with the tides, one of the lives is less than 1 cm, albino and blind. Viewpoint of the eyes of César Manrique.

 

The farmer's house

He went through a green door and entered a room with white walls. Inside there were farming tools. At the other end there was a green door: he went through it and entered another room. It was larger than the previous one and had a green window. The room was full of pitchers. He looked at them for a while before going through a green door and entering a new room. Beyond there was another room with white walls. He went through a green door and found himself in another room. Then the child couldn't take it anymore: he began to cry.

 

“Lanzarote is not my land but it is my land”

This phrase by José Saramago defines my relationship with the island.

On each trip I visit some Tourist Centers but what fascinates me the most are the Montañas de Fuego. Every time I go they seem different. It all depends on the day because they change color and light depending on the day.

With clouds, with sun, with haze, even with rain, the change of color and light of those mountains that make them always different is wonderful. Then, the silence and the voice of Hilario. Fascinating.

 

Dream

My repeated adventure begins at dawn. A camel invites me to the particular journey. Without stops, without haste; the scenery is changing.

Petrified lava, without vegetation. I hear distant waters and perceive their bluish freshness. Albino crabs inhabit them; elegant cacti recreate my walk. An abstract farmer smiles. I stop near the cliff, my spirit flies free; I inhale pure air.

A little devil jumps to my side, invites me to the bowels of the earth. In the distance, misleading the sun, I see a castle.

I wake up soaked in sweat…

My psychologist looks at me and points to an island on the map.

 

From the entrails

Alarms sound, lament bells ring, we must meet on a rescue mission.

Lanzarote resents an insurgent bug conspired under the ground by its rabbit guardians.

In Jameos los del agua a Devil in love the spirit of Cesar and his Albino inhabitant finalize the potion.

Begin the witches' sabbath treasures of my people a cauldron for defense we mix our essences.

Purifying lava tears of Timanfaya olivines torn airs of folia ¡Master Master! bless this artillery to make the night day.

Impregnate with this spell every stone of this land we will remain protected by the Devil, the Blind and Cesar.

 

 

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