From living in a Lanzarote tourist resort to rural tranquillity

In the first of a new series, Isabelle D.G., a Belgian-born islander of over 20 years and long-time member of the Roper Properties team in Puerto del Carmen, writes about her move from the bustling resort of Puerto del Carmen to the peaceful village of Máguez.

After years in Puerto del Carmen — a place where the word “quiet” is more of a punchline than a promise – I’m finally packing up and heading north. No scandal, no drama, just a gentle but undeniable desire for… less. Less noise. Less neon. Fewer inflatable flamingos in the supermarket.

Enter: Máguez. A village so discreet, so content with itself, it almost forgets to tell the map it exists. Tucked between Haría and the clouds, Máguez is all sloping stone walls, soft mountain light, and the kind of air that makes everything — from lavender to lettuce — grow just that little bit better. It doesn’t try to impress. And yet, it quietly does.

Here, time is optional. Internet is a mood. And the only traffic jam you’ll face is two goats and a man called Pepe having an argument about onions.

But don’t be fooled — it’s not all sun-kissed serenity. The packing is in full swing, and the boxes seem to multiply when I’m not looking. I’ve already found three pairs of sunglasses I thought I’d lost years ago. The pets – three cats and one very intuitive dog – are circling the situation with great interest. They definitely suspect something, and they’re not wrong: life is about to look very different.

But I’m not doing this alone. Somewhere along the way, the idea of moving turned into something more than just geography. There’s also Makan – a falconer from La Asomada, and, yes, someone whose presence is starting to matter more than I expected. He’s staying in the south for now, but we’re already planning how to make sure that “north” doesn’t mean “apart.”

For now, the adventure begins with bubble wrap, good intentions, and the quiet pull of a new home in a place that doesn’t shout.

More soon, once I figure out which box I packed the kettle in… and how to survive without a supermarket less than five minutes away.