Las Palmas: The WiFi Works, the Views Inspire, and Nobody Knows My Name

I came to Las Palmas after someone mentioned the WiFi was strong, the espresso was solid, and nobody here knows what LinkedIn is. That was all I needed.

Turns out, it’s kind of perfect. The weather’s good, the views are better, and the daily rhythm is somewhere between “early retirement” and “productive exile.” I’ve been here a few weeks now. No brand deals, no launch deadlines, just steady work, long walks, and one failed attempt at cooking lentils from scratch. (Not as easy as they make it sound.)

The mornings are for work—real, actual work. I’ve taken calls overlooking the ocean and answered emails from cafés that feel like someone designed them specifically for remote guys trying to look like they don’t care. The internet holds up, the coffee is strong, and I haven’t heard the word “Web3” once since I got here. It’s healing.

Afternoons? Beach walks, tennis, reading. I’ve slipped into a routine I didn’t know I needed. No pressure to network, no sudden invitations to sound baths, and—crucially—no awkward co-living intros. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Even the seagulls seem less aggressive.

And yes, before you ask: I did keep an eye out. For her. The future Mrs. Guez. Figured this could be the place—coastal breeze, long glances across the produce aisle, maybe we reach for the same avocado, you know? But no luck. A few friendly smiles, one accidental flirty moment at a tennis court... that turned out to be a serve aimed at someone else. Story of my life.

Still, I can’t complain. Las Palmas gave me everything I was hoping for: a place to work, think, move, and not be recognized—or interrupted. No one knows my name here. And for once, that’s a feature, not a bug.

Would I stay longer? Probably not.
Would I return? Yes. Especially if she’s still out there... buying avocados.
In the meantime, I’ll keep packing my bags, working from balconies, and joking about finding a wife—until one of these posts turns into a wedding announcement. Maybe.