Santa Cruz de Tenerife

Standing at a lung-testing 3,718 meters, Mount Teide isn't just the highest point in Spain-it's the volcanic love-child of Mordor and Mars, starkly beautiful and unapologetically moody. Teide National Park sprawls across Tenerife with a desolate charm, peppered with jagged basalt rocks, crimson slopes, and freakishly hardy plants that look like alien life forms dropped from passing UFOs. Best to show up around sunrise or sunset, when the lava fields glow in hues of amber and copper, and selfie-stick-waving tourists haven't yet invaded like caffeinated locusts. Book your cable car tickets at least a couple days in advance, because spontaneity here is about as rewarding as room temperature sangria. Pack layers, sunscreen, sunglasses, water, and your best attitude-Mother Nature can be as temperamental as an underpaid chef. Budget around €30 for the cable car, plus a few extra euros for the obligatory 'I survived an active volcano' memorabilia. Truly, it's worth every penny; even if your fitness tracker calls foul and you breathe like Darth Vader climbing stairs-after all, how often do you get to casually drop that you spent the afternoon strolling across Mars, minus the interstellar airfare?

Los Gigantes cliffs, rising majestically-and let's just say, slightly menacingly-600 meters straight out of Tenerife's impossibly blue Atlantic, offer the kind of stark, cinematic drama that make you half-expect pirates (or perhaps vengeful gods) to suddenly appear around the corner. From a gently bobbing boat tour-or, if you'd prefer to keep your feet on terra firma, from the comfortably sandy Playa de Los Guios-you can appreciate just how insignificantly small you truly are in the face of nature's geological tantrums. If you're savvy, snag an early morning expedition before the midday hordes arrive-and before that merciless Canarian sun makes you regret not packing SPF50 and a wide-brimmed hat. Budget around forty euros for a solid two-hour boat jaunt-and consider booking a few days ahead if you're not fond of queuing behind patiently sweating tourists clutching selfie sticks. Whether you're marveling at the way the sunlight dances on basalt rock formations, scanning for pods of playful dolphins, or simply contemplating your mortality (or lunch options) beneath these prehistoric titans, it's unquestionably worth every euro, every sweaty handshake, every existential crisis-if only for the inevitable, envy-inducing travel anecdotes back home.

Standing before the Drago Milenario-a thousand-year-old dragon tree-is like being stared down by an eccentric, ancient alien that's had the dubious fortune of watching humanity's follies for over a millennium. Located in Icod de los Vinos, a charmingly lethargic town in northwestern Tenerife, this botanical behemoth exudes a nearly mystical aura accompanied by a slight whiff of tourist kitsch. Early morning, when the buses haven't disgorged their selfie-wielding hordes and the soft dawn light gives the twisted branches their deserved dramatic flair, is your best bet for an unspoiled encounter. Plan a day ahead, chuck four or five euros into your pocket for entry, and bring along your irreverent attitude and a decent camera-this baffling, gnarly specimen deserves a portrait. Sure, it's ultimately a very old tree-no dancing monkeys or elaborate pyrotechnics-but there's something oddly compelling about standing beneath a living thing older than most European cathedrals. If nothing else, you'll walk away with a slightly smug anecdote about having met a tree old enough to have witnessed Vikings setting sail and shrugging at Columbus's departure.