The ISTAC reports, those old bibles of tourism, are nothing more than a meticulous anthropological study of the customs of the human species in its vacation habitat. A catalog of percentages that reveals that the geography of the island, that masterpiece of time and the Atlantic, ultimately boils down to two sacred categories: the corner where one burns in the sun and the corner where one feigns an adventure. And in the south of Gran Canaria, with its dunes and beaches, faith is divided into two main cults, each with its rituals and prophets, but with one common denominator: the sacred pursuit of rest.
Spanish tourists, with their unwavering faith in relaxation, have turned the pool and the beach into altars. With a fervor bordering on the mystical, 77% of Spanish tourists in the third quarter of 2024 chose the hotel sanctuary as their main activity. Their pilgrimage to the Maspalomas Dunes (54%) and the capital, Las Palmas (72%), is not an exploration, but a confirmation of faith, a ritual repeated year after year. The peaks and ravines, that wild interior sculpted by nature over millennia, barely capture their attention, with Roque Nublo and the Guayadeque Ravine accounting for a mere 20% of visits. It is proof that, for Spanish tourists, the true adventure is not in the climb, but in the tranquility of a sun lounger.
Tourists from the Nordic countries, on the other hand, are more modern devotees, ones who combine the fervor of the beach with the social demands of culture. With their concentration in the south, especially in the idyllic Puerto de Mogán (36%), they demonstrate that they too seek the tranquility of paradise. But, unlike Spaniards, they feel the need for penance, for a small effort to justify the rest. Their visits to Roque Nublo (7%) or Teror (6%) are not an act of passion, but of duty, the fulfillment of a checklist that allows them to say they "explored" the island. And among the activities attributed to them, "whale watching" and "hiking" seem more like a noble excuse to breathe fresh air than a true commitment to nature.
In the end, the most revealing fact in this report on the customs of the soul lies not in the places visited, but in what one does upon arrival. The beach and the pool are, for everyone, the starting and ending point, ground zero for relaxation. But while some limit themselves to this ritual, others surrender to simulation. Savoring Canarian cuisine, that noble act of immersing oneself in the local culture, becomes the only excuse to justify the inactivity of the trip. The truth, the only truth, is that the island is a blank canvas for laziness. And the hoteliers, those priests of mass pleasure, are in charge of putting a price on the sunlight, the pool water, and the supposed "adventures" of their faithful.
