Between Mojos and Mañanas: The Expat Truth About Adeje

You’ve seen the photos.
Golden beaches. Sangría glasses clinking. Sunsets so orange they look Photoshopped.
And of course, that “mañana, mañana” lifestyle you swore would heal your burnt-out soul.

But let me stop you right there.

Because moving to Costa Adeje (aka “sunny paradise on Tenerife’s south coast”) is not just sipping cortados while palm trees wave politely in the breeze.
It’s fun, yes. It’s magical, absolutely. But it’s also paperwork that ages you ten years, neighbors who party till 3am on a Tuesday, and the sudden realization that you will never eat dinner at 6pm again.

This is the real talk relocation guide no glossy blog told you before you packed your flip-flops.

⏳ The “Mañana” Maze (Spoiler: It’s Not Just Tomorrow)

Yes, “mañana” technically means “tomorrow.”
In Adeje? It means:

• “Ask me next week.”
• “Ask me never.”
• Or my personal favorite: “I heard you, but I’m pretending I didn’t.”

Here’s the thing: people really do slow down here. Shops close at random hours. Appointments get rescheduled because the wind changed direction. And while at first it’s charming, eventually you’ll find yourself pacing outside a closed gestoría with a bag of photocopies in your sweaty hand wondering, “Is this how adulthood ends?”

Smarty tip: Always carry snacks. Waiting in Spain is a sport.

💬 “Vale” – The Word That Runs the Island

Forget Duolingo. Learn vale.

It means:

• Yes.
• Sure.
• Fine.
• “Stop explaining, Karen.”

You’ll hear it everywhere in Adeje—from the barista handing you your barraquito to the taxi driver confirming your stop at Siam Mall.

When you finally use it naturally, congratulations. You’ve unlocked Level One of Being a Local.

Bonus tip: If you add a sigh before saying “vale,” you’ve reached Level Two.

💸 Money Talks (But Not Like You Think)

If you’re fresh off the plane from the UK or US, tipping will feel… weird.
Here in Costa Adeje:

• 20% tips? Nope.
• A few coins or rounding up the bill? Perfect.
• A compliment to the waiter about the mojo sauce? Even better.

Oh, and don’t panic when your card gets rejected the first time at Mercadona. It happens. Usually because your bank back home thinks “Adeje” sounds suspicious.

Smarty tip: Always keep €20 cash. Not for emergencies. Just for that tiny bakery that “doesn’t do cards” but sells the best rosquetes you’ll ever eat.

👀 Bureaucracy: The Real Boss Level

Let’s talk paperwork.
Or as we call it here: The Hunger Games: NIE Edition.

First, you’ll need an appointment.
Then, you’ll need 14 photocopies, three passport photos, a mysterious form you can only download at midnight on a full moon, and patience rivaling a monk’s.

Yes, the cita previa website will crash. Yes, the police office will send you to another office. And yes, your new favorite sport will be rage-texting your friends in ALL CAPS on WhatsApp about it.

Survival kit:

• A gestor (a magical human who speaks fluent “bureaucrat”).
• Extra pens (they will run out).
• Snacks (again).
• And the ability to accept that “next week” might actually mean “next year.”

🌊 August Apocalypse (a.k.a. The National Siesta)

Costa Adeje in August = full shutdown.

Doctors? Gone.
Mechanics? Gone.
Half your neighbors? At the beach eating bocadillos and sipping beer at 11am.

If you’re planning anything important—moving apartments, registering utilities, or scheduling surgery—don’t do it in August. Unless your life goal is heatstroke while screaming at a closed office door.

Pro tip: August is for beach, not bureaucracy. Join the locals with your towel and don’t fight it.

📲 WhatsApp Nation

Forget email. Forget voicemail. Spain runs on WhatsApp.

• School? WhatsApp.
• Your landlord? WhatsApp.
• The vet? WhatsApp.
• The guy who fixed your boiler once and now sends you Good Morning memes daily? WhatsApp.

Also: prepare for voice notes. Long ones. Ten minutes long. At 11pm. Usually with background TV noise, and always ending in “vale?”

🍽️ Dinner? Not Before 8pm, Darling.

If you sit down at 6pm in Adeje and ask for dinner, the waiter will gently laugh while polishing cutlery.

Restaurants here open their kitchens later. Locals eat around 9–10pm.
So what do you do at 6pm when your stomach is growling?

• Grab a tapa (papas arrugadas will save your soul).
• Take a paseo (evening stroll).
• Watch the sunset (you’ll forget you were hungry).

By the time you sit down at 9pm, you’ll have embraced the rhythm—and possibly a free chupito from the waiter if you smiled enough.

🏖️ Tourists, Everywhere

Moving to Adeje means you’ll share your new hometown with millions of sunburnt strangers.

That means:

• Long lines at Siam Park (yes, even on Tuesday morning).
• Beaches that look like IKEA on a Saturday.
• Supermarket shelves cleared of Doritos and bottled water by 4pm.

Survival tip: Explore beyond Playa de las Américas. Tiny coves like Playa del Puertito will make you forget you’re surrounded by selfie sticks.

🚗 Public Transport Is… Let’s Say Limited

Yes, there are buses. The famous guaguas.
No, they don’t run often. And no, they don’t always show up when the app says.

If you plan on really living here (not just vacationing), get a car. Or at least a scooter. Otherwise, your life will revolve around bus timetables written by someone with a sense of humor.

🏥 Health and the Holy Farmacia

Doctors in Adeje? Hard to pin down.
But farmacias? Everywhere.

Your new best friend will be the pharmacist who hands you allergy meds for your cat, sunscreen for your sunburn, and a lecture for trying to buy antibiotics without a prescription.

Pro tip: learn the phrase “¿Tienes algo para…?” You’ll use it weekly.

🗑️ Trash Talk

Recycling here is not optional. And it’s not intuitive either.

• Yellow bin: plastics and cans.
• Blue bin: paper.
• Green bin: glass.
• Grey bin: general waste.

Yes, people will judge you if you put cardboard in the wrong one. And yes, the bins are sometimes full, so you’ll walk around with a pizza box like it’s your new handbag.

🐾 Pets Are Family (But With Rules)

In Adeje, dogs are welcome almost everywhere. Bars, cafés, even some shops.
But… apartment rentals often say “no pets allowed.”

So before you bring Fido, make sure your landlord won’t freak out.

Bonus tip: dog beach days exist. Your pup will make more friends than you in week one.

🏠 Neighbors: Your New Social Experiment

Spanish neighbors are like Netflix—there’s no middle ground.

They’re either:

• The sweet abuela who brings you gofio recipes and knows your entire family tree by week two.
• Or the guy who drills at 2am and insists reggaeton sounds better when shared with the entire building.

You don’t get to choose. You only get to buy earplugs.

🎉 Fiesta Every Day (Literally)

You thought Carnival was once a year? Cute.
Adeje celebrates something every other week. Saints, flowers, harvests, random traditions involving goats—there’s always a fiesta.

Translation: firecrackers at midnight, parades that block traffic, and you realizing you live inside a festival calendar.

Pro tip: Just join. Buy the costume. Dance behind the float. Life gets easier once you stop asking “Why?” and start asking “Where’s the beer tent?”

🌡️ Weather Shock (Yes, Even in “Eternal Spring”)

Costa Adeje is warm year-round, but…

• July and August? Melting.
• January mornings? Weirdly chilly (and your apartment has no heating).
• Calima (dust storm from the Sahara)? Suddenly your balcony looks like Mars.

Solution: invest in fans, blankets, and the ability to say, “It’s just calima, vale?” like it doesn’t bother you.

🏦 Banking and Bills

Banks here love paperwork. You’ll sign forms to pay bills you already paid online.

And utilities? Surprise! Electricity is not cheap. Neither is water. Welcome to island life.

Pro tip: Always ask about “gastos de comunidad” (building fees) before renting. Hidden costs love newcomers.

🌍 Learning Spanish… Sort Of

Yes, you should learn Spanish. But also: Canarian Spanish is its own beast.

• “Guagua” = bus.
• “Papas” = potatoes.
• “Chacho” = basically “mate” or “dude.”

You’ll feel like you’re learning two languages at once. Which, honestly, you are.

Final Thoughts: From Tourist to Local

Moving to Costa Adeje isn’t just a relocation.
It’s a cultural boot camp disguised as paradise.

You’ll cry over cita previa, sweat through August, and eat dinner so late you question all your life choices.
But then—one evening—you’ll sit on the promenade, sipping a barraquito, your dog at your feet, your WhatsApp buzzing with “vale vale vale” from new friends… and you’ll realize something.

This chaos? This sunshine? This noise and laughter and late dinners?
It’s home now.

Welcome to Adeje. You’ll never want to leave.