A love letter to culture and slow travel
Andalucía: a place where the sounds of guitar and flamenco still resonate, a region where the corrida (bull fighting) agitates the spirits and where the numerous religious fiestas and the Semana Santa celebrations create a never ending vibrant atmosphere.
But behind these clichés lies a lesser known Andalucía.… Continue reading
“You’re going to Mallorca? You? Really?”
That’s the reaction I got from most of my friends. Can’t blame them really. I usually tend to go for more adventurous or exotic locations than that, but sometimes a girl is simply in need of some summer sun.… Continue reading
Tears are welling up behind my dark sunglasses. Around me people are waving white handkerchiefs and the encouraging “olés” can be heard all over La Glorieta. I knew I shouldn’t have come… What was I thinking?
It all started the day before, when travelling from León to Salamanca.… Continue reading
“Tenerife? Isn’t that the place where thousands of British pensioners flock together to bake in the sun?” I am not going to spend one week in Tenerife eating fish and chips and listening to Brits moaning about the heat!”
That was my first, not so enthusiastic reaction, when my travel partner came up with the idea.… Continue reading
“Cádiz…the early morning hours, the air filled with the smell of salt.” (Niña Pastori)
The lyrics sung by Cádiz’ native Niña Pastori perfectly illustrate the feelings I have for this southern Spanish city. Feelings of hot summers, feelings of yearning, feelings of a long lost love…
I had the chance to stay in Cádiz during one long summer month while attempting to brush up my Spanish language skills.… Continue reading
This looks good, what is it?” I ask the waiter in front of me. The answer gets lost somewhere between my limited understanding of Spanish and his strong Andalusian accent. It doesn’t matter really, I’m not even hungry. Hunger is irrelevant in Spain anyway.… Continue reading
I am standing on the walls of the Guzmán El Bueno Castle. Below me are the blue waters of the Mediterranean and in the distance I can spot the lights of Tangier, Morocco. I have arrived in Tarifa, Spain, at the southernmost point of the European continent, the place where Europe ends and Africa begins…
I love these kind of places: they make me somewhat dreamy, nostalgic and curious at the same time.… Continue reading
The sound of the rattling metal balls and chains is disturbingly lugubrious as the penitents walk barefoot on the cobbled streets of Ronda. I am on a trip to southern Spain, attending one of its most vivid traditions and most popular celebrations: the Semana Santa in Andalucia.… Continue reading
I was in my second year of Spanish when I proudly declared: “Mi ciudad es muy famoso para su sopa de polla”. The face of my teacher went bright red as she, a little embarrassed, explained me that the Spanish word for chicken is “pollo”, “polla” apparently means “penis”…I spent the rest of the evening trying to convince my fellow students that my city wasn’t producing any phallic-shaped soup whatsoever.… Continue reading