라 오로타바 오디오 투어: 데헤사 알타의 역사, 미스터리 & 정원

Through the centuries, more and more vineyards appeared, giving way to the famous wines of Orotava. But wait - plot twist! Along came banana plantations, slowly taking over from the 20th century onwards. It was the great Banana vs. Grape Showdown. Grapevines lost some ground, but today, around 671 hectares of vineyards are still registered and proudly carrying the Denominación de Origen label since 1995. The climate here is like a spa day for grapes: sultry, humid, and sunny, with Mediterranean warmth thanks to the Atlantic. But nothing is ever too easy, right? Mist from trade winds often wraps the vines in a dreamy shroud, while storms sometimes sweep through, keeping the grapes on their toes (if grapes had toes, that is). And let’s not forget the real stars of the show: the grapes. Reds with names like Castellana Negra and Negramoll, and whites like Malvasía Volcánica and Vijariego, give wines with flavors as enchanting and mysterious as the valley itself. Sip local wine here and you’re tasting history-volcanic, dramatic, and with just a hint of rebellion against those pushing bananas!

Looking ahead, you'll spot an impressive cream-colored church with striking dark volcanic stone corners, tall arched windows, and a large pink-and-white dome rising behind two palm trees-just lift your eyes above the greenery and you'll see it clearly! Alright, picture this: the sound of church bells mixing with the breeze as you stand before the Parroquia Matriz de Nuestra Señora de la Concepción-the brightest jewel in Canary Islands’ baroque crown. No wonder folks around here like to call it the “Cathedral of La Orotava,” even though, technically, it’s not a cathedral or a basilica-but with that enormous dome, inspired by none other than the grand dome of Florence, who could blame them for getting carried away? Travel back with me to the end of the 15th century-Tenerife has just been conquered. The very first settlers, likely covered in dust and with hopes high, built a modest hermitage on this spot, dedicated to the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary. Their town began to spring up around it, a bit like mushrooms after rain, thanks to land handouts by Alonso Fernández de Lugo. In 1502 came the big land lottery and, just a year later, the hermitage became a full-fledged parish-by 1516, it was officially a church. Talk about a growth spurt! Through the centuries, La Concepción grew and transformed. By the 16th century, it started adding chapels and collecting treasures. In 1587, a remarkable wooden sculpture-the Cristo de la Misericordia-arrived, carved in 1585 and carefully carried here from a nearby hospital. But a church this grand comes with its share of drama. In the 17th century, earthquakes-caused by the local volcano-rocked the valley. The townspeople, nervous and desperate, made an annual vow to the Virgin of Candelaria in exchange for peace and quiet under the dome. Just imagine the trembling walls and prayers echoing through stone corridors! As the years rolled on, the church faced crumbling walls, collapsing towers, and repairs that seemed to never end. Eventually, the whole place was so battered that by 1758, the Spanish crown agreed: time to build anew! Plans went back and forth-one by a military engineer, then passed to the great Ventura Rodríguez-before a local master, Patricio García, rolled up his sleeves and got things moving. By 1768, the old church was gone, and a whirlwind of construction began. Deadlines were... well, let’s just say optimistic, but by 1788, a hundred years after starting, La Concepción was officially inaugurated in a ceremony practically bursting with pride. No one could accuse the people of La Orotava of lacking patience! Inside, the style is as grand as you’d expect: baroque blended with neoclassical touches, like marble works by Giuseppe Gaggini from Genoa and elegant ironwork shipped all the way from London in 1822. And talk about holy furniture-the pulpit is magnificently perched on the shoulders of a marble angel, while the main altar is crowned by a miniature marble temple, complete with eight Corinthian columns and a parade of little angels. Even the statues got an upgrade, thanks to local sculptor Fernando Estévez, who filled it with beauty and perhaps a bit of friendly rivalry with those Genoese imports. Of course, that wasn’t the end. Royalty paid frequent visits; repairs were made, stained glass was shipped from Zaragoza, electric lights were fitted (which probably impressed the saints), and even an organ from Germany arrived in 1914. In 1948, the Spanish government finally declared the church a National Historic Monument-a well-deserved honor. Restoration work at the end of the 20th century meant moving the parish briefly, but like any good Canarian comeback story, it reopened with newfound glory in 1999. In the 21st century, La Concepción continues to dazzle. Its treasury of art, from paintings and sculptures to gold and silver, is now preserved in a special museum next door. All in all, this majestic church has survived volcanoes, earthquakes, royal visits, and the changing tides of art and architecture, standing tall as the heart of La Orotava-and, just maybe, keeping an eye on the rest of us with a twinkle under that spectacular dome.

This museum sits right inside the Parish Church of Nuestra Señora de la Concepción, and believe it or not, its story reaches all the way back to the early 1500s. Over 500 years, the parish, local families, and a colorful cast of collectors gradually filled these rooms with thousands of pieces. The collection today spills across seven rooms and two levels-paintings, sculptures, carved furniture, dazzling textiles, and some truly breathtaking silverwork. And if you think church treasures are stuffy, wait until you see their Gothic monstrance, crafted around 1520 in that incredibly intricate Portuguese Manueline style. Talk about old-school bling! Some of the textiles here are among the most important in Spain. You’ll find elaborate chasubles, lace-trimmed altar cloths, bishop’s regalia-the kind of heavenly fashion that would make any red carpet jealous. But it wasn’t all peaceful collecting. Imagine the drama during the 1800s: Between 1835 and 1869, several monasteries in La Orotava closed down and their precious art and luxuries found a new home right here. Suddenly, the parish was richer than a royal wedding, and the museum gained exquisite altarpieces, statues, and paintings-some of which had to be squeezed into every nook and cranny. By the mid-20th century, somebody realized that all this splendor deserved a spotlight. In 1942, after some heavy-duty reorganizing-think musical chairs for museum cabinets-the upper rooms above the main sacristy were turned into “the Treasure.” Thanks to generous donations from families like the Cullen-Calzadillas, this museum now safeguards the magnificent pontifical wardrobe of Tenerife’s first bishop, Luis Folgueras y Sión. Fun fact: It took a drawn-out legal wrangle with the Granada cathedral to bring those vestments back to the Canary Islands. Now, after bouncing between relatives for generations, they rest peacefully here-no lawyer required. Let’s appreciate the variety: Marvelous paintings cover every era of Canarian art. There’s a moving Immaculate Conception by Juan de Miranda, acquired to decorate the church in 1781, along with portraits of bishops and local dignitaries. Scenes from Christ’s Passion, created by Seville’s painters in the late 1500s, hang beside Italian masterpieces like Domenico Fetti’s Penitent Magdalene-donated by the Marquis of San Andrés in 1978. Talk about a family heirloom. There’s even more upstairs! The south wing, transformed most dramatically, is like a pirate’s trove of silver relics. The display cases glitter under the restored chestnut wood ceiling, said to have been repurposed from the old parish and probably carved in the 1670s. Now, these chambers hold shimmering chalices, ornate processional litters, and even altar pieces once hidden away in convents-reimagined as the stars of this show. Over time, secularization meant private oratory treasures-belonging to families like the Monteverdes, Zárates, and Ascanios-made their way into the museum. There’s even a “guide of faith” here, a special booklet tying everything together, just in case you lose your way among the thousands of details. Restoration in 1998-99 gave the museum a modern lift without losing its personality. Armored doors, secret alcoves, and dozens of cataloged collections now lie in wait, ready to surprise every visitor who follows the winding corridors. If you’re lucky, you might sense the pride of La Orotava’s residents, who spent centuries donating and protecting these cultural treasures-making this museum a living tribute to the town’s spirit and devotion. So, are you feeling curious yet? The treasures inside are a tapestry of faith, art, and a few family squabbles along the way. Just think: Every creaking floorboard and whispered prayer is another thread in its remarkable story!

Right ahead of you stands Casa Lercaro, easily spotted by its large and elegant façade with creamy stonework, decorative wooden balconies stacked above the main entrance, and flower-filled windows-just look for the most grand building on this stretch of Calle Colegio, especially the balcony bursting out just above the doorway. Standing here, you’re in front of a house that’s almost like a “Who’s Who” of Canarian nobility-welcome to Casa Lercaro, or if you want to impress your friends, you can also call it Casa de Ponte-Grimaldi or Casa de Ponte-Fonte. Let’s set the scene: It’s the 17th century, and you’re walking past the home of Jerónimo de Ponte-Fonte y Pagés, whose marriage to Catalina Grimaldi Rizo de Lugo started a family line that would shape La Orotava’s story for generations. The house itself is no shrinking violet, taking up over 3,000 square meters if you count the gardens and orchard, and almost 900 for the main building-rumor has it, you’d need roller skates just to get from one end to the other. Look up at that striking U-shaped building. The grandeur is no accident! Its main face is decked out in true baroque style, showing off a keen sense for symmetry: two windows on either side of the door, stacked balconies in the center creating a sense of importance that climbs upward-each balcony is more grand than the last. The top floor once served as a granary, so not only did the family live in style-they also stashed their potatoes and wheat right above their heads. If you peek closer at the carved balconies, you’ll spot intricate wooden work, iron railing, and Corinthian columns that seem to say, “We may be in the Canaries, but we know all about Italian flair.” You’ll notice the façade itself mimics solid stone blocks, even though it’s all clever craft, and every opening-doorways and windows alike-are dressed up with etched floral designs. The noble ground-floor door is a masterpiece, a mix of armored studs and panels, a real showstopper. If you’re curious whether symmetry ever met a challenge, take a look to the right: there are two tiny windows for balance-because, thanks to this street’s steep slope, the architect had to get a little creative. Here’s a fun detail: right above the broad main door, you’ll find a family crest carved in marble. That’s a mashup of every big name in the family: Ponte, Lugo, Grimaldi, Fonte, and Rizo. If only they had Instagram back then! During festivals, imagine this house bustling with life. The noble floor-where the family actually lived-would glow with light from inside as nobles entertained guests, and people hurried about on the ground floor taking care of food, deliveries, or everyday business. Walk just a bit inside (don’t worry, you’re safe with me), and you’d encounter a vestibule flanked by a stone-forged iron gate dated 1913, hinting at later family pride. The main patio-open to the north-features chunky corinthian columns atop what, believe it or not, are old millstones buried as foundations. On the upper levels, a closed gallery with sash windows creates a bright passageway above street level, offering sweeping views-and maybe a spot for peeking at the neighbors’ gossip. The house is topped with classic Arabic roof tiles, and a little glassed-in lookout towers at the southeast corner, like a perching spot for daydreams. If you stood here centuries ago, you could have seen carriages arriving, animals clattering by, and the occasional flourish of a cloak and powdered wig. The back garden once overflowed with fruit trees, and the patios echoed with footsteps and laughter. Today, its massive doors may be quieter, but Casa Lercaro stands as a testament to the ambition, style, and resilience of La Orotava’s most distinguished families. And now, you’re part of its story-so give your best aristocratic wave before we move along!

Right in front of you is a large three-story house with a pale façade, wide wooden balconies running along the top, and windows on the middle floor decorated with flowers and colorful artwork-just look for the long balcony crowded with wooden railings and vibrant blooms! Now, imagine stepping back into 1632: the Casa de los Balcones, or the Fonseca House, is rising from the cobblestones, and carpenters are busy carving elaborate wood for the balconies and the now-famous inner courtyard. By 1675, the house stands proud, with its upper balcony stretching the full length, and five smaller balconies below, all made from Canarian pine, creaking ever so slightly in the breeze. Walk inside and you’d find a sun-soaked courtyard bursting with green, almost like nature’s living room. But this is no ordinary house. For centuries, the Casa de los Balcones has been the heartbeat of Canarian craft: intricate lacework, basket weaving, embroidery, and more. Picture friendly artisans chatting as they pass thread through their fingers, surrounded by the spicy scent of fresh wood. The house is alive every day-not just a museum, but a living workshop and school, where generations learn and keep alive the traditional crafts of the Canaries. You’ll spot displays from the famous workshop of Eladia Machado, where dexterous hands have been turning thread into treasures since 1932. Today, thousands come here to browse embroidered cloth, handwoven baskets, colorful ceramics, and even traditional costumes. It’s hard not to fall under the spell-whether you’re here for the culture, the crafts, or just to see if the balcony can really hold that many people at Carnival time!

Inside, these elegant halls buzz with meetings where the mayor and city councillors-now led by Francisco Linares of the Coalición Canaria-make the decisions shaping La Orotava’s future. Since 1979, every mayor has been democratically chosen by triumphant waves of universal suffrage, a real upgrade from the old days when getting a say was harder than finding your car keys after a fiesta. The council itself is a lively mix of diverse voices-13 councillors from the Coalición Canaria-Partido Nacionalista Canario-Centro Canario Nacionalista, a trio from the Partido Popular, another three from the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, another three from the Partido Popular again (sorry, no double vision, just politics!), and two from Iniciativa por La Orotava. The financial tales inside these walls could fill a soap opera. The “deuda viva,” or living debt, only counts the debts with banks-so, at least the coffee bills don’t get quite as dramatic. So, the next time you vote, remember you’re sending someone into this beautiful hive of debate, decisions, and probably plenty of strong local coffee!

To find the Hijuela del Botánico, look just behind the City Hall for a small public garden bursting with greenery-don’t miss the impressive Drago tree with its thick trunk and fan-like canopy standing proudly in the heart of the garden. Welcome to the enchanting Hijuela del Botánico, a lush paradise tucked away right behind La Orotava’s City Hall! Imagine stepping back more than two centuries, when this land was covered by the echoes of a convent-its walls once home to the soft footsteps of the clarisas nuns and the gentle ring of church bells in 1601. But as history marched on, the old convent was demolished in 1868, and in its place, this garden blossomed with the dreams of explorers and botanists. Picture the year 1788: King Carlos III is ruling Spain, and the VI Marqués de Villanueva del Prado, Alonso de Nava y Grimón, is crafting this space as a living extension of the Jardín de Aclimatación over in Puerto de la Cruz. You’re now strolling through 3,390 square meters of leafy treasure! Notice the rare giants around you: the Metasequoia, nicknamed the Dawn Redwood; the mighty Drago canario, guardian of ancient stories; the delicate Ginkgo biloba, which remembers the age of dinosaurs; and the unusual Arbutus canariensis. I promise, this isn’t just a garden-it’s a green time capsule! By the early 20th century, an elegant iron fence was added to the edge, each piece a tribute to the plants within, twisting into shapes inspired by the greenery it protects. Listen for the birds chirping and the soft rustle of palm leaves. Hijuela del Botánico isn’t just a pretty face-it trades seeds with gardens around the world and keeps a herbarium bursting with Canary Islands’ floral secrets. In 2008, it was declared a Historical Garden, preserving the beauty and stories that keep growing with every new branch and blossom you see around you. Not bad for a garden with roots in both science and legend, right?

To spot the Parish of San Juan Bautista, look ahead for a bright cream-colored church with a clock-towered belfry on the left and a sturdy wooden door framed by stone right in the center-its clean lines and cross on top make it hard to miss. Now, imagine yourself standing right where the drama of La Orotava’s history unfolded! Long before this impressive parish rose before you, there was just a humble little hermitage built by the hardworking locals way back in the 1600s. But the story gets spicy: these villagers wanted their own church, free from the rule of the big parish down in town. So, after twenty years of persistence-let’s call it stubbornness with a twist of Canarian spirit-they turned old sugarcane fields once owned by a Genoese merchant, Tomás Justinianeo, into the proud grounds for their parish. Building it was no walk in the park. There were decades spent hauling stones, scraping together funds, and negotiating with bishops. Oh, the excitement when, in 1861, they finally placed the Holy Sacrament inside! But with freedom comes a bit of chaos-arguments flared when the main parish wanted to control certain ceremonies in San Juan. (Church politics: always lively, even back then.) As you stand here, imagine August 1747, when the building was finally blessed, though the iconic tower you see now wouldn’t appear until years later thanks to Bishop Delgado and one generous Don Mateo González Grillo-a local hero who donated so much, he almost deserves a statue out front. Inside today, you’ll find a treasure trove of art: centuries-old silver, oil paintings, and beloved statues like the Señor Atado a la Columna and the enchanting Virgen del Carmen, each with their own tales of processions, devotion, and maybe a little bit of village gossip whispered through the ages. So, take a breath: right here, you’re surrounded by stories that still warm the heart of La Orotava!

Directly ahead, you’ll spot a tall, elegant pale stone monument with crisp golden letters and floral carvings, rising above flower-filled niches and framed by shady green trees-just keep your eyes level and look for the grand structure with the classic triangular top. Welcome to the La Orotava Cemetery, a place where stories linger in the warm Tenerife breeze. Imagine the year 1823: the town’s churches could no longer keep up with the growing population-too many souls, not enough resting space! So, the good people of La Orotava turned to the talented Fernando Estévez, their hometown sculptor, who designed this cemetery not just as a burial ground, but as a romantic garden-making even the afterlife feel a bit like a park stroll. As you look around, you’ll notice family mausoleums of local legends, like the Marquises of Quinta Roja and the Monteverdes. At the heart stands a chapel, its doorway saved from an old monastery, now whispering secrets of past fires and faithful restoration. The cemetery is still alive today, growing as time marches on. Every stone and flower here urges you to remember: history isn’t just written in books-sometimes, it rests quietly beneath your feet. Now, who said cemeteries couldn’t be lively places full of history and art?