This winter has been rotten, plain rotten. Rain can be a godsend in countries susceptible to drought like Spain, but enough already! Though Spring certainly doesn’t seem to be springing with any kind of force, let’s hope that the storks bring some good weather with them.
Over the Christmas break we went off again, searching for more of Ibn Battutah’s tracks…this time from Morocco to Spain. The trip ended, like Battutah’s in that lovely city at the feet of the Sierra Nevada, Granada. Of the few cities that live up to their hype and more. Even without the Alhambra sitting on…
I’ve chased Ibn Battutah’s ghost through Yemen, Syria, Turkey, Libya, Spain and even Cambodia. Each country has provided fleeting glimpses of the medieval wanderer, from his lions in Aleppo to castles in Fuengirola. Have a read about a recent pilgrimage to this traveler’s tomb in Tangier in the Sydney Morning Herald.
I do have to say that the Irish are some of my favourite people in the world. Whether it be in New Jersey, Baku, Vientiane or even Cork, they always seem to cheer things up. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to the greenest of places, but an Irish newspaper, The Irish World, has just…
Years ago while living in the south-western corner of the Arabian peninsula, now unnameable, the sun shone almost everyday…almost. At times the clear blue sky would darken with sand blowing in from the vast deserts that ring the mountains and then for about 2 weeks a year irregular monsoons would blow through and flood the…
Every traveler has been there…jet-lagged and coming out of an airport or getting off an all-night train where the only wink you got was from the fellow across the aisle with the extremely dirty fingernails, stepping into a new country with no language or local currency and suddenly the mass descends on you. If not…
Cold seems to be relative. The way you experience it depends on…well depends on more than your jacket. A relative you know is coming to stay, but can’t seem to say no to. I bloody hate the cold. Could be an entire childhood faced with frozen hair on dark mornings that lasted forever and then…
The good people over at Trazzler have given me even more reason to practice what I preach and travel deeper rather than further. I’ve been assigned a 10 piece series, exploring my adopted homeland of Extremadura, Spain and her sister region across the now non-existent border with Portugal. First stop Alcantara! Second Caceres Moving on…
Aculturalized Definition: When the sight of mummified pigs legs hanging on the wall not only doesn’t make you do a double take, but makes your mouth water. Few self-respecting bars in Spain would be found without at least one…in fact it just may be a requirement in the licensing process, Jamón, or Spanish Ham. Sliced…
19.56, I made it! 2 Metro changes…dash through the palpable late August heat in Madrid, an anxious wait on a light rail platform only to find the next train is an express that doesn’t stop where I do. Add to that the criminal removal of beer from the vending machines on the platforms, 3 broken…