I want to emphasize that the San Juan festivities were a major event, where people started arriving in El Golfo from the eve and even bonfires were improvised on the mountain overlooking the Clicos pool, so it could be seen from the small town of that time. As we nostalgic people who are left from that era usually say: when El Golfo was El Golfo. I am remembering in my short age back in 1953.
A few days ago the San Juan festivities were celebrated, which brings back memories of my childhood, when going to El Golfo around that time was a reason for great joy and going on foot, along the dusty road, but it was more than a tradition: it was a devotion; the San Juan baths with that childish joy that was a great event. When you were arriving in a space where you could not yet see the sea, just by hearing it, your heart increased the pulsations of the emotion you felt. Then, when you peeked over the slope, that emotion increased and your eyes filled with tears, your parents and grandparents told you that it was the wind that hit them and produced the effect of those tears, be that as it may, those experiences are embedded in your soul, in your heart and will accompany you throughout your life. There was an optical effect that a few meters when arriving at the slope, you did not see the descent to the town, however that optical effect made you see as if the sea was at the height of the mountain, which our parents, uncles, grandparents and other older family members took advantage of to make you believe that you had to cross the sea to go down to the town. You had a bad time, but in the end everything remained in a small momentary scare, which was later compensated with interest.
Back in the 1950s, boys and girls were not allowed to bathe together, even less so if there were teenagers. That is why I have present in my memory Mrs. Sara Machín Rodríguez walking along the shore of the beach, in a corner called the little beach of the women at high tide, women's pool at low tide.
The children and some adult men bathed in the La Majorera pool, in the outer one at high tide or in the inner one if it was not high tide. Because the adult men bathed in the Caletón de la Instancia la Viga, only those who knew how to swim could bathe there.
Well, the good Mrs. Sara did not let any male teenager approach those surroundings, not even a boy, male of course. She was a faithful guardian, because among all the young women, there were two of her three daughters, Teresa and Matilde. Well, the eldest, also named Sara like her, was married and had to take care of her little children. These baths were taken before lunchtime. Then, once lunch was over, both children, young people and some older people, all together we went to the beach below, which was where the boats of the sailors who came from Playa Blanca to spend the summer season, which usually comprised between April and September, month in which the sea began to get rough. Going to the Playa de Abajo from four in the afternoon was quite an event, we all took our special sandwich for the afternoon snack of that day, consisting of half a loaf of Tomasa bread and quince jelly, guava or half a bar of Tirma chocolate.
Looking back, with nostalgia those years, is when we remember the past with longing and sighing saying: that was El Golfo!
The neighborhood councils that were formed those summer nights, the adults listening to the news that they called the part, the children lying on the sand of the patios, we always fell asleep in the warmth of the summer nights, looking at the sky, it seemed to us that there were more stars than ever.
Among many other memories, the beautiful sunsets that were contemplated and are still contemplated, in that magical place, do not leave my memory. Also the beautiful romances between young people, which were born on the seashore. One of those beautiful stories, are the figures of two children who fell in love from a very early age, Candelarita daughter of Doña Maruca (the teacher of Yaiza and Don Rafael Gonzalez)) and Pepito Pereira. Although they denied it, seeing them sitting in Los Morritos de Sengundo, contemplating the beautiful sunsets, they gave themselves away alone.
I have for them a beautiful verse that a majorera, folklorist by birth, told me one day. As was Lola Roger Alonso and says like this:
Lovers think
they think and do not think well,
they think that nobody looks at them
and everyone sees them.
There is also another universal verse that can be applied to them, such as the clearest and most beautiful language, the language of the gaze, which says like this:
Do not look at me that they look,
that we look at each other.
And by our looks
they will know how much we love each other.
