ExploGC

There are days when Gran Canaria feels bigger than the map suggests — when the island opens itself up in layers, in terraces, in stories carved into the mountainsides. Today was one of those days. We climbed high above Las Palmas, into the rugged ridges of San Juan and San José, two neighbourhoods suspended between history and sky. The air was clear, the winter sun warm but not heavy, and the city below looked almost miniature — a model of streets, rooftops, and distant sea, framed by the sharp edges of the old volcanic cliffs. We came here for one reason: To explore the forgotten military settlement that once guarded the city. From City Noise to Mountain Silence Above them, the terrain changed — concrete yielding to earth, walls giving way to open slopes. The higher we climbed, the quieter the world became, until Las Palmas sounded like a faraway radio in another room. The ridge opened up. And there they were. The military structures. Silent. Empty. But still standing with...

Today we went to Parque Tívoli Las Palmas — or rather, to the place where the dream once stood. There is nothing left now. Nothing but a wide open space, a barren mountain of gravel, dust, and broken illusions. What was meant to become a kingdom of fun, excitement, and family joy has been demolished right down to the ground, erased almost completely from the surface of Gran Canaria. Only the faint shape of the terrain hints that something was once planned here… something big, something magical. We parked the car and stepped out into the warm air. The wind moved softly over the empty lot, carrying the feeling of a forgotten story — one written in hopeful ink, then abandoned mid-page. The silence was heavy, but not unfriendly. More like a book waiting for someone to open it again. Walking across the uneven ground, we tried to imagine what this place was supposed to be. A rollercoaster towering above the city. A Ferris wheel turning slowly toward the sky. Families laughing, ch...

Today’s adventure took us to one of the most dramatic stretches of coastline in the north of Gran Canaria: the rugged line between Punta de Gáldar and Caleta de Abajo, two places connected by a quiet coastal street that feels like it sits outside of time. Long before we reached the sea, we already knew this day would be special. The road that led us there was wrapped in endless green: banana fields that stretch like a patchwork towards the horizon. Driving through them felt like entering a hidden world. The warm breeze carried the sweet smell of bananas, the plants rustling on both sides, tall and dense, forming green corridors that opened suddenly to small glimpses of the Atlantic. That combination of agriculture and ocean—so typical in the north of the island—already set the tone: peaceful, authentic, a Gran Canaria untouched by tourism. Our first stop was Punta de Gáldar, a place where the land meets the ocean with force and personality. There is no soft sand, no promena...

Today the island woke up beneath a light blanket of clouds. The sun was still there somewhere, hidden but glowing softly through the grey. It wasn’t the kind of weather that invites you to the beach — it was the kind that whispers “go explore.” So that’s exactly what we did. Our destination: Cactualdea Park, a green and spiny paradise tucked into the western hills of Gran Canaria. The road there winds through quiet villages, past terraces, and open valleys where the air smells faintly of dry grass and sea wind. As we approached, the shapes of tall cactuses began to appear along the roadside — a perfect prelude to what was waiting inside. At the entrance, we were greeted by a small pond where a group of wild ducks lived as if they owned the place. Some were swimming lazily in circles, others stood on the stones shaking water from their feathers. Their calm presence instantly made us smile. It was such a peaceful welcome — as if nature itself was saying “bienvenidos.” Just a ...

The day began under a brilliant blue sky, the kind of perfect morning that makes Gran Canaria glow with its full charm. The Atlantic shimmered with a thousand reflections, and a gentle breeze carried the salty scent of the sea along the promenade of Meloneras. As we walked toward the Faro de Maspalomas, the sunlight glinted off its tall, elegant tower — the iconic lighthouse that has watched over this coast for more than a century. The Faro stands proudly at the edge of the ocean, where the modern world of Meloneras fades into the timeless beauty of the Maspalomas dunes. Its stone walls have seen sailing ships pass, storms roar, and decades of change. Yet today, it welcomes visitors with warmth and curiosity — part museum, part cultural centre, part guardian of Canarian heritage. Inside, the temperature dropped slightly, and the cool air smelled faintly of polished wood and time. The museum immediately drew us in. The exhibits were far more impressive than we expected — a r...

There are days when Gran Canaria feels like it’s glowing — like every colour has been turned up just a little brighter. This was one of those days. The sky was an endless, perfect blue, and the air shimmered with heat even before noon. Auke and Miranda parked the car by a curve of the GC-200, the famous mountain road that twists through the island’s rugged southwest. Ahead of them, the cliffs of Los Azulejos rose like a wall of colour — bands of blue, green, yellow, orange, and red glowing under the sun. Miranda shaded her eyes and grinned. “It looks like the mountain’s been painted by hand,” she said. Auke laughed. “Then let’s go see it up close.” They started the climb. The trail wound its way between sharp rocks and small dry shrubs, the scent of warm stone and dust rising with every step. The sun pressed hard on their backs, but there was no wind — not even a whisper. Just the sound of their footsteps and the occasional buzz of an insect breaking the silence. The higher...