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Posts from the ‘Spain’ Category

At the Gate of the Sun, Madrid

It’s a Sunday afternoon in Madrid and we are standing in the central square known as the Puerta del Sol (“Gate of the Sun”), kilometre zero of Spanish roads and the pulsating heart of the capital. Home to great collective events like the city’s New Year celebrations, it is now centre stage for a spontaneous nationwide protest movement dubbed “15-M”. Read more

A Night of Flamenco, Seville.

On our last night in Seville we realised that there was something missing from our whirlwind trip through the Andalusian capital. We had ventured into the depths of the cathedral, wandered the gardens of the Alcázar and tried the guilty pleasure that was pescado frito. But so far we had not yet seen a flamenco show. Read more

Inside the Alcázar, Seville.

From the outside it seemed like a strange mishmash of Moorish arches, bricked-up colonnades and single-pane windows. Truth be told I was not entirely enthusiastic – I was eager for lunch and we had just spent the last hour inside the cathedral with its throbbing crowds. Read more

Beneath the Giralda, Seville.

I had not expected Seville to feel quite so much like a European capital. The latest trams zip and down the pedestrianised avenue, whizzing past posters proclaiming the latest achievements in sustainable living. I look over at the cycle lane, its boundaries marked by a double trail of stainless steel, subtle disks stamped onto the brand-new flagstones. Read more

Into the Andalusian Soul, Córdoba.

“Número diez.” With a nod the taxista puts his hands on the wheel. 6 hours after leaving Madrid, his unmistakeable accent reminds us that we are practically a world away from central Spain. I roll down the window to let in some fresh air. Outside the sun is high in the sky, its rays beating down onto the tarmac as we whisk past rows of majestic palm trees. Read more

Awestruck: the Great Mosque of Córdoba

“That will be 8 euros.” The voice resonates from behind a glass screen. It belongs to a man in his 40s, round-faced and indifferent. Digging into the depths of my wallet, I fork out a 20-euro note before sliding it into the metal tray. It disappears in a flash. Read more

The King of the Hill – Cuenca, Spain.

It is the faint sound of bubbling water that draws us out of modern Cuenca and into its medieval soul. We peer over the low parapet, rough to touch but still softened by the winds of time. Below us a mountain brook threads its way between the old stone embankments. It is tantalisingly clear, tinted a luminous blue-green with a dash of white. Sabrina gazes into the water with the excited eyes of a child. “I know it’s cold, but I would happily dip my feet into the river.” Read more

Postcards from Valencia: a photojournal

Think Barcelona minus the tourist crowds. Think palm trees, oranges and the hometown of paella. Valencia may be Spain’s third-largest city, but it is quite possibly one of the country’s best-kept secrets. An experience as refreshing as its signature horchata, that delicious summertime concoction made from chufa nuts, this city is still some way off the beaten track. Read more

Valencianos love to blow things up.

As surreal experiences go, there is nothing quite like basking in the 27-degree sunshine, face-up in the grass as the park echoes to the sound of exploding firecrackers. It is the middle of March and the party is in full swing in Valencia. The occasion? A wild, raucous and noisy celebration known as Las Fallas. Read more

Veni, Vidi, Amavi – 3 days in Segovia.

When night falls and the busloads of day-trippers leave Segovia, the city reverts to its timeless medieval charm. It’s nearing 8 o’clock on a Friday evening and I have just completed the 3-hour journey from Salamanca.  The walk to the hotel takes me through a warren of narrow, atmospheric streets and animated squares, interspersed by the odd floodlit monument. Although it has only been a good 40 minutes since my arrival, I am already falling in love with Segovia. Read more