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 few steps inside, a dark doorway invited us to explore a cave recreated like those of the ancient aboriginal inhabitants. Inside it was cool and dim, with tools, pottery, and simple decorations showing how people once lived in harmony with the island. The walls smelled of earth and time — it was easy to imagine the flicker of a fire, the voices of people long gone, the quiet rhythm of life before everything changed.
Leaving the cave, we followed a lava stone path that wound between endless varieties of cactus. Some were small and round like green pebbles; others stood tall, like guardians watching over the garden. Every few meters the landscape changed — sometimes desert-like, sometimes lush, with flowers peeking through the thorns. The path felt almost magical, leading us deeper into this living collection of the world’s most curious plants.
Then we heard it — a long, cheerful “hee-haw!” echoing between the rocks. A donkey had spotted us. His eyes were gentle, and his face full of character. Near the small stall we bought a handful of maize, and the moment he saw it, his ears perked up and he came closer, munching happily. The sound of his crunching mixed with the soft cooing of nearby pigeons. It didn’t take long before a few chickens and even a couple of peacocks joined in, clearly used to visitors with treats. The peacocks, proud and colorful, walked slowly around us as if showing off their kingdom.
There was a quiet rhythm in this place — animals moving freely, wind brushing over the cactus spines, the occasional birdcall bouncing from stone to stone. Every corner had something different — a sculpture, a view, or simply a cactus with a strange, almost alien shape that made us stop and stare.
After walking for a while, we reached the small café. On the counter stood a large glass jar filled with something red — fresh cactus juice. We couldn’t resist trying it. The taste was surprisingly refreshing — light, slightly sweet, and just what we needed after the warm walk. We sat there for a moment, sipping our drinks, watching the ducks at the entrance pond again, as if we had come full circle.
Before leaving, we took one last walk along the path, the clouds still hanging low over the hills. Even without sunshine, Cactualdea was full of life and color. The textures of the plants, the sounds of the animals, and the feeling of walking between stone and green gave the whole place a quiet, timeless beauty.
It’s not just a garden — it’s a little world where the wild, the ancient, and the everyday meet. A reminder that nature doesn’t always need bright sunlight to shine. Sometimes, under the soft light of a cloudy day, you see it even more clearly.
Comments
Post a Comment