The rare magic of nowhereland
Look under the sea of beaches for something quite rare and extraordinary, born out of the blending of cultures hundreds of years ago, and grown under a crossroads.
Gran Canaria is such a crossroads. The meeting place for people from a thousand different places. A strange blend of aromas, colours, and cultures hitting ancient travellers all of a sudden. The last European port of call. The last breath of fresh air prior to initiating the long ocean adventure.
No one expected such a blend far from the centres of the world. Sailors have been repeating the same tune for over five centuries, ‘This should not be here.’ But it is. For frontier spots have their own rules.
And so it happened that half the world left their imprint on Gran Canaria. On the small towns with narrow streets, on the lost settlements. On magnificent villas, and on the ports of call for the steamships.
This should not be here. It defies logic. I should not be stumbling upon a huge neo-gothic church in the middle of a sea of banana trees. No. I should not run into the ruins of a pre-Hispanic city only two steps off the market. Nor bump into a Genoese admiral right at the turn of the corner.
I should not find a giant aborigine hanging from a monumental cliff. No. I should not hit a colonial district built in the 15th century, hidden within a noisy and lively port town, on an island that should not leave such trail of towns, colours, tastes, music, art, architecture, and different faces.
But it is all here, in Gran Canaria. You will only get to see it if you look under the sea of beaches, where our rare and magic blend came to be.
