The beluga whale swims up and down. On each circuit he approaches the small square of sunlight at the back of the tank. It is a gap in the wall, gridded with bars against stupid humans, which lets in the hot, Mediterranean sun. He rolls sideways to look up at it, turns and swims on. The whale is about 5m long. His tank is about 30m long, 8m wide and maybe 15m deep. That's not very big for an animal used to wandering the Arctic.
In the background, a CD of white whale song is playing, the eerie whistles and booms echoing oddly in the enclosed tower that provides shade to the cold water tanks of the whales and the walruses. The beluga whale must be able to hear it. Is it like having someone whisper, a constant semi-audible mutter? In Serbo-Croat?
The Oceanographic is a zoo. It's not a serious conservation effort, it's not particularly architecturally distinguished. Its signage and interpretation are a disgrace. Maybe we should have been warned byt the 'dophinarium', with its promised shows; we avoided that completely, and didn't even go into the auditorium. We don't go to zoos, and we wish we hadn't gone to this one. Don't waste your ?'?22.50 (each!)
Two irresistible comparisons fuel our disappointment. One is Lisbon, again. The other is Cornwall's Eden Project.
The Lisbon Oceanarium is an amazing place. It has huge tanks with sharks and rays swimming all around, maybe 10m above your head. It has divided zones, with substantial amounts of real ice right out in the open air for the penguins, cool temperate areas, the heat of coral reefs. The 'visitor experience' is stunning; you go away moved, terrified, grinning madly at the sheer excitement of the animals and the amount you have learned.
There is a constant, explicit message about the state of the seas. You don't have to sit through the distressing and informative films about the impact of industrialised fishing over the last fifty years (though we did). It is in every label, every exhibit, in the air that you breathe as you walk around.
The Oceanarium also gives a strong impression of caring about the welfare of its animals, beyond the necessary requirements to keep them healthy and comply with the law. The tanks were not vastly crowded. Many of the birds had direct access to fresh air. Temperatures were appropriate (take an extra layer for the ice zones, even if it's 40� outside.) It's still got ethical problems; the sharks and rays in particular are huge animals to keep in any tank. And people still use flash cameras and aren't always stopped.
None of these things are true of Valencia's Oceanographic. OK, there are some fantastic aquaria. There are tunnels where the fish are directly overhead: count the teeth in that shark's grin! They have an extraordinary variety of species, both of birds and marine life. It's an enormous area with a wide range of habitats, lots of beautiful spots to sit under trees and watch the people, little cafeterias and even a very posh restaurant. Plus several gift shops in which you can buy a cuddly beluga whale, or a furry seal.
But the 'visitor experience' is of a very standard kind. Yeah, been there. Saw the sharks, and the dancing dolphins, bought the tee-shirt. What's next? Certainly, you do not go out grinning and humbled by the sheer enormity of the ecosystems.
And this lies in the way in which they have chosen not to make conservation central to what they are doing. It is a little sideways message, as if they have to mention it to please the funders. But hey, if the Japanese whaling industry cares to make a sizeable donation, we can change it all fairly easily. We found one picture that really shows pollution in the seas: it was of the rubbish washed up on the beach of one of the uninhabited islands of the South Atlantic. Disgusting. It was a small picture, easy to miss. There was a film about the loggerhead turtles that are brought here for care if they are found with fish-hooks or caught in nets. That showed a little bit of the impact of industrialised fishing, with its bottom trawling and its disregard for 'by-catch'. But there was no sound track, and the screens flanked a huge Red Sea Aquarium. We knew what we were watching because we'd been to Lisbon. Not from anything Valencia told us. And those blasted cutesy mermaids on the audio-guide? Well, yes, they tell us quite often how at risk certain species and environments are. From plastic, from creeping urbanisation or agriculture. But their sententious condescension is more likely to turn anyone into a shareholder in Burmese logging than a serious environmentalist.
We also felt that the animals were not particularly well looked after. We're not in any way qualified to judge the happiness of fish, though the tanks looked small and crowded. But what of that beluga whale patrolling his tiny space? The female teal who paddled to and fro, to and fro, her ruffled wing feathers rubbing against the lip of her pond. The brooding, silent pelicans on their fake rocks in the baking heat. The ever-moving, slow-swimming loggerhead turtle who could circle his entire tank in five minutes. The seals going round and round. The Humboldt's penguins in a small enclosure which had no ice in it at all, but grass growing at the top of the small 'cliff' above the water.
And the endless camera flashes. These are 'prohibited' because they trigger the flight reflex of many fish. But everywhere in the aquaria, people were using their flash cameras. Occasionally, very occasionally, one of the few attendants would move to stop it. But they were as likely to tell you to put a coke bottle away, or not to rest your feet on the seat in front while resting in the auditorium. It was not a priority, the prohibition was not enforced, so the fish were constantly enduring the assault of the flashes on their already stressed environments.
The other comparator is Eden. If you haven't made it there yet, then go. We went before it was finished, and a second time afterwards, and were proud to be Friends of Eden in its first few years. Central to Eden is the science. Everywhere you look, both at the Project and in its print/film/digital outpourings, the work is about hard science. What works and what doesn't? If there is a traditional understanding about the uses and values of certain flora, that should be respected, explored, tested. And maybe exploited too, to find sustainable ways of addressing poverty. Further, Eden challenges conventional approaches to teaching about science, about the environment. Eden is actively engaged with children and schools, not only in Cornwall but in many countries around the world.
This scientific engagement and active participation in education are invisible in the Oceanographic. The most charitable interpretation is that they are not on display but are happening in the background. We would urge the zoo to put that work out in the public domain, to share the passion and pride that are so palpable at Eden.
Also, at Eden (and indeed the gardens at Heligan), no inch of the space is wasted as potential habitat for flora and, to a much lesser extent, fauna. This is harder, certainly, for the Oceanographic, with many different species not all of which can share a space. But certainly there are missed opportunities. One 'area' is a large series of apparently interlinked ponds, with various piles of rock and a few sparse reeds. The water is uniformly a rather lurid green, rather shallow but opaque, so you can just discern the outlines of pumps and paraphernalia on the bottom.
What a waste. This whole area could have been made a living, outdoor experiment in sustaining the population of pelicans, flamingos and duck that are kept there. The ponds could be replanted to attract dragon-fly and other insects, which in turn would bring birds. The water should be circulated anyway, which would reduce the mosquito risks. Instead, it's just a stagnant, ugly site with morose and angry birds and the occasional hoverfly.
Did we get anything out of it? Very sore feet. Confirmation that the turtles we saw were loggerheads. Free turtles. Long may they stay out there.