Introduction
Lanzarote stands as the easternmost island of Spain’s Canary archipelago, a volcanic creation that seems to belong more to science fiction than reality. The island takes its name from the 14th-century Genoese navigator Lancelotto Malocello, though the indigenous people called this land “Timanfaya” - meaning “mountains of fire.”
Between the 18th and 19th centuries, massive volcanic eruptions covered a third of the island in lava. Yet this destructive force gave birth to Lanzarote’s extraordinary beauty today. Black lava plains dotted with emerald vineyards, white houses gleaming against volcanic ash, and landscapes so alien they could fool you into thinking you’ve landed on the moon.
In the latter half of the 20th century, artist César Manrique transformed this island into a unique destination where nature and art exist in perfect harmony. His philosophy - “not an attack on nature, but harmony with nature” - continues to guide the island’s development. No building rises above the palm trees, every structure painted white with green or blue window frames in unified simplicity.
Atlantic winds sweep constantly across this land, keeping temperatures mild and dry year-round. Rain rarely falls, and plants seem to draw life force directly from the volcanic soil. This is Earth, yet it carries the strange sensation of being somewhere else entirely - another planet where time moves differently.
Day 1: Landing on an Alien World
The moment I stepped off the plane at Arrecife Airport, dry wind brushed against my face. Even the airport building followed the island’s aesthetic - pristine white walls framed by blue windows. Collecting my rental car keys, I drove toward the island’s heart, breathless at the landscape unfolding beyond the windshield. Black volcanic terrain scattered with white houses like precious gems, and in the distance, those distinctive green conical hills that mark Lanzarote’s unique vineyards.
I checked into my small hotel along the Puerto del Carmen coastline that morning. The building, predictably white, offered rooms with balconies overlooking the Atlantic. After settling in, I watched the sun climb high, the ocean surface sparkling like scattered diamonds.
Before noon, I headed to the island’s most iconic destination - Timanfaya National Park. At the entrance, I boarded a specialized bus for what locals call the “Mars Tour.” As we progressed deeper into the park, reality seemed to slip away. Red-brown and black lava formations created bizarre sculptures, massive rock formations that looked carved by alien hands. The guide spoke in Spanish and English, but before this otherworldly vista, words felt powerless.
The bus stopped, and our guide dug a small hole in the ground, dropping dried grass inside. Instantly, smoke rose. Just ten centimeters below the surface, temperatures exceed 400 degrees Celsius. Nearly three centuries after the 18th-century eruptions, this land still breathes with volcanic life.
That afternoon, I shifted focus to the Janubio salt flats. This ancient salt-producing region draws seawater into shallow pools, letting the sun’s heat evaporate the water and leave crystalline salt behind. Rectangular pools arranged in geometric patterns reflected the blue sky above, while mounds of pristine white salt at their edges created an abstract masterpiece.
The salt flat supervisor, an elderly man who spoke only Spanish, used gestures to explain the salt-making process. “This salt is special,” he declared with evident pride. Indeed, tasting a single crystal revealed not mere saltiness, but a complex, profound flavor. He filled a small bag with salt as a parting gift.
As evening approached, I walked along Puerto del Carmen’s waterfront promenade. While tourist restaurants lined the street, I chose a small tapas bar that seemed favored by locals - “Casa Pedro,” its walls decorated with photographs of old fishing boats.
Sitting at the counter, I was warmly welcomed by Pedro, the owner. Following his recommendation, I ordered “papas arrugadas” (wrinkled potatoes) with “mojo verde” (green sauce). These small potatoes, boiled in seawater until salt crystals formed on their skins, paired with a vibrant sauce of coriander and garlic. Simple as it was, these potatoes grown in volcanic soil possessed an indescribable sweetness unlike anything I’d tasted.
“Our island’s cuisine is simple, but each dish has meaning,” Pedro explained. “Our ancestors created these flavors through ingenuity in harsh conditions.” Listening to his stories while sipping local white wine - also cultivated in volcanic soil - I tasted strong mineral notes and an earthy aroma that spoke of the land itself.
That night, standing on my hotel balcony, countless stars illuminated the sky. With minimal light pollution, the Milky Way stretched clearly across the heavens. Listening to the rhythmic waves, I reflected on the day’s experiences - the volcanic landscape, salt pools, and humble cuisine. Each was a memory unique to this place, impossible to replicate elsewhere.
Day 2: Where Art and Nature Dance Together
The hotel’s morning meal was simple but featured local ingredients. Tomatoes grown in volcanic ash were small but intensely flavored, goat cheese carried a distinctive saltiness, and bread drizzled with olive oil represented the island’s traditional breakfast.
My morning destination was “Jameos del Agua,” one of César Manrique’s masterpieces. This concert hall was created within underground caves formed by volcanic activity. Descending the stairs from the entrance, temperatures gradually cooled until a beautiful underground lake appeared. The crystal-clear water revealed white sand below, home to small blind white crabs - a species found nowhere else on Earth.
Deeper in the cave system, a natural amphitheater takes advantage of perfect acoustics for occasional classical concerts. Manrique’s genius lay not in destroying natural beauty, but in highlighting it through thoughtful intervention. Emerging from the caves, the upper-level café terrace offered panoramic ocean views. White buildings, blue sea, and black lava coastline created a living painting.
Next, I visited “Mirador del Río,” an observation deck at the island’s northern tip, also designed by Manrique. The white building seemed to grow from the cliff face itself, perfectly integrated with the landscape. From this vantage point, the neighboring island of La Graciosa appeared close enough to touch.
La Graciosa, uninhabited and pristine, displayed only white beaches and blue waters. “Graciosa” means “graceful,” and the island lived up to its name with elegant, understated beauty. Sipping local coffee in the observation deck’s café while contemplating this view, I felt time dissolving around me.
That afternoon took me inland to La Geria’s wineries, famous for a cultivation method found nowhere else on Earth. Farmers dig funnel-shaped holes in the volcanic ash, plant grapevines in the center, then build semicircular stone walls for wind protection. From above, these green circles create mesmerizing geometric patterns across the black landscape.
Winery owner Carlos guided me through the vineyard. “This method has continued for 300 years,” he explained. “Volcanic ash retains moisture while stone walls protect vines from strong winds. In this harsh environment, grapes develop exceptional character.” Indeed, wines produced from these challenging conditions possessed distinctive personality.
In the winery’s tasting room, I sampled Malvasia white wine - dry yet carrying sweet aromatics, with the pronounced mineral character typical of volcanic soils. “This wine tastes like Lanzarote’s earth itself,” Carlos declared proudly.
As evening approached, I visited the small church in Yaiza village. “Nuestra Señora de los Remedios” is famous for a miracle during the 18th-century eruptions - lava flows stopped just short of the church walls. Though modest with white walls and green doors, the building radiated the quiet devotion of local people.
At a small café beside the church, elderly locals played dominoes while chatting companionably. Though we shared no common language, their peaceful expressions offered glimpses into island life’s gentle rhythm.
That night, I explored Arrecife’s old quarter. Narrow cobblestone streets lined with historic buildings featured balconies adorned with flowers. Around the small lake called “Charco de San Ginés,” restaurants and bars created a lively evening atmosphere.
I dined at “Restaurante La Lonja,” built in a converted fish market with high ceilings and impressive stone walls. The menu featured fresh seafood, and following the owner’s suggestion, I ordered grilled “vieja,” a local white fish simply prepared with salt, local olive oil, and lemon. It came with “papas arrugadas” again, this time accompanied by red “mojo rojo” sauce.
While eating, I observed a local family at the neighboring table - three generations sharing a meal together. Children ran about energetically while grandparents smiled peacefully and parents watched with gentle eyes. Though I couldn’t understand their words, family warmth proved universal.
Walking back to the hotel along the coast, moonlight illuminated waves rolling rhythmically to shore. The day’s varied experiences - underground caves’ mystery, clifftop vistas, volcanic vineyards, humble churches, and warm human encounters - all testified to this island’s multifaceted charm.
Day 3: Morning of Farewell and Discovery
On my final morning, I woke earlier than usual. From the balcony, sunrise painted the Atlantic horizon orange as the sun emerged from the endless ocean. Knowing today marked my departure filled me with gentle melancholy.
After breakfast, I headed to my last destination - “Cueva de los Verdes.” This massive lava tube stretches approximately seven kilometers and once served as refuge when pirates attacked the island. During the guided tour through the cave system, natural acoustics made voices resonate beautifully.
At the cave’s deepest point, Manrique had installed a secret feature using optical illusion. What appears to be a deep underground lake is actually a shallow pool - his way of questioning where the boundary between nature and art truly lies.
Emerging from the caves late in the morning, I felt compelled to walk Puerto del Carmen’s waterfront once more before heading to the airport. Unlike the previous evening’s quiet, daytime brought families and strolling couples. The sea remained beautifully blue, volcanic mountains creating their distinctive backdrop.
At a small beachfront café, I ordered final coffee. The middle-aged female owner asked in broken English, “How was the island?” When I replied, “Beautiful, special,” she smiled warmly. “Our island is small, but it leaves something big in visitors’ hearts,” she said.
Driving to the airport, I tried memorizing the landscape one last time - black lava plains dotted with white houses, palm trees swaying in constant wind, blue ocean stretching to the horizon. Though my stay lasted only three days, this island had definitely left something permanent within me.
Processing departure at Arrecife Airport, I reflected on this journey’s meaning. Lanzarote represents perfect balance between destruction and creation, harsh nature and human ingenuity, tradition and artistic vision. Most importantly, the islanders’ gentle, warm character made these travel memories truly special.
While waiting to board, I bought postcards from the gift shop. One showed the Milky Way against the night sky, reminding me of that first evening when I gazed up from my hotel balcony. The silence and beauty I felt then will remain in my heart for years to come.
As the plane lifted off and the island’s full profile appeared below my window, I experienced a strange sensation - like a spaceship returning to Earth from another planet. Though Lanzarote exists firmly on our world, its unique landscape and culture offer experiences completely removed from ordinary life.
Final Thoughts
This three-day journey to Lanzarote taught me many things: how nature’s destructive forces can lead to beautiful creation, how people develop rich culture through ingenuity in harsh conditions, and how art and nature can achieve perfect harmony.
César Manrique’s legacy of “harmony with nature” lived and breathed throughout the island. White building clusters, volcanic vineyards, lava cave concert halls, and most importantly, the way islanders themselves lived embodied this philosophy completely.
The salt flat supervisor, winery owner Carlos, tapas bar owner Pedro, café proprietress - through brief encounters with each, I felt the pride and warmth characteristic of island people. Even when language barriers existed, smiles and gestures created moments of genuine connection. Such experiences represent travel’s greatest rewards.
Volcanic island, artistic island, island of human warmth - Lanzarote wears many faces, all harmonizing to create one beautiful world. Time spent here offered experiences impossible in ordinary life.
This journey exists only in imagination. Yet Lanzarote’s landscapes, culture, cuisine, and the lives of people who call it home are entirely real. Writing this travel record, I felt as though I had actually walked those paths, breathed that air, tasted those flavors. An imaginary journey that feels genuinely experienced - perhaps this demonstrates imagination’s mysterious power.
Should I ever truly visit Lanzarote, I’m curious how this imaginary journey will overlap with reality, and how they’ll differ. Certainly, new discoveries and emotions await that future encounter as well.
