May 20
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
May 17
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
May 10
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
May 7
“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
Apr 27
“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
Apr 14
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
Apr 2
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
Mar 31
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
Mar 26
In Portugal there’s a saying that goes like this: “Porto works, Braga prays, Coimbra studies, and Lisbon gets the money.” Having witnessed the (practically) rude, no-nonsense attitude of Porto, and its chaotic cityscape, we were about to discover something very different on our arrival in Braga. Read more
Mar 13
There was no way I was ever going to turn down a road trip to Porto. Ever since I visited Lisbon for the first time last October, I knew that I had to come back to Portugal at the next available opportunity. Read more
Plus Ultra 