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April 2026 Written by Cam with help from Meg and Claude AI. All photos are from Cam.

Birmingham · Liverpool · Manchester · Wetherby · York

We arrived in Birmingham after our Spanish cruise and delayed arrival. It had been a long day so we took it easy and really did not do much that first evening. The next morning, we saw Birmingham’s waterways unfolded before us with a quietness we hadn’t expected from England’s second city. 

Birmingham’s Canals

A Historical Canal Marker – Bringing History to Life

The morning was still, allowing us to see the canals mirror the ironwork bridges and redbrick warehouses above them. Each reflection trembling only slightly at the passage of a mallard or a slow-drifting leaf. We walked the towpaths reading the cast markers that named each bridge and stretch of water, small monuments to an infrastructure that once powered the Empire.

It was a volunteer historian who brought it all alive for us. A man of genuine enthusiasm and salt-and-pepper knowledge. He actually lives aboard a canal boat — which lent his words a particular authority. He walked us through one of the Industrial Revolution’s great secrets. Birmingham didn’t merely use these canals, it weaponized them. Threading iron and coal and ambition through two hundred miles of engineered water to fuel the workshop of the world.

The Hawthorns: West Bromwich Albion vs. Millwall

We came to The Hawthorns the way proper football supporters do, by public transit. Weaving through the Friday evening streets of the West Midlands with scarves and anticipation. Before the gates opened, we found ourselves drawn into a tailgate gathering outside. The smell of charcoal and grilled meat cutting through the cool spring air. A burger in hand, surrounded by Baggies faithful in their navy and white stripes, felt like the right way to begin.

Inside the ground, we discovered something we hadn’t quite expected from a Championship football stadium: a genuine community gathering. We settled at a picnic table in the concourse, apple ciders in hand, and fell into easy conversation with locals who wore their club with the unselfconscious loyalty of people for whom West Brom is simply part of who they are. There was warmth in the banter, and a generosity toward two obvious outsiders who had turned up for the love of the game.

From Our Seats to the Match – Expectations Exceeded!

Five rows off the pitch – you could clearly hear the thunder of cleats and the sound of the ball being put into play.

Our seats were extraordinary — five rows off the pitch, positioned between the offside box and the centreline. At that proximity, football becomes something different altogether. You hear the crunch of tackles, the shouts of instruction, the collective exhale when a chance goes wide. The match itself was electric. Both sides probing and pressing with genuine intent, Millwall defending with the gritty organization that has always defined them. West Brom creating just enough danger to keep the home crowd on edge. In the end, the scoreline remained goalless. Both sides claimed a clean sheet. The contest felt far richer than any scoreboard could suggest.

What awaited us afterward was unexpected. At the train station, police had formed a careful choreography. Millwall supporters corralled on one side; West Brom fans on the other. Each faction loaded onto alternating trains to prevent the evening from curdling into something uglier. It was a reminder that beneath the camaraderie of the beautiful game, old rivalries still carry an edge. A reminder English football, even in its lower tiers, takes no chances with that.

Birmingham: History and Theatre

The day after the match, Birmingham revealed a quieter, more contemplative face. We wandered through the city’s historical heart, tracing the civic ambition of a place that had once declared itself the workshop of the world. Grand Victorian architecture sitting comfortably alongside modern redevelopment, each layer of the city telling a different chapter of the same restless story.

The evening brought an unexpected delight. Spotting a flyer for Death on the Nile at the Alexandra Theatre, we made a spontaneous decision that proved inspired. It was, as it turned out, the production’s final night. From our lower balcony seats, the drama unfolded with all of Agatha Christie’s delicious intrigue intact. Poirot and the cast commanding the stage with evident relish. A perfect last act to our Birmingham days.

Liverpool

Paddington Bear, with a marmalade sandwich!

Liverpool announces itself with the kind of confidence that only cities shaped by genuine history can muster. We began at the Albert Dock, that great curve of restored Victorian warehouses along the Mersey waterfront. Our self-guided walk set the rhythm of the day. The waterfront rewarded unhurried wandering. Spotting the Fab Four, immortalized in bronze. Four familiar silhouettes caught mid-stride against the grey river light. Later, rather unexpectedly, we found Paddington Bear, marmalade sandwich in hand and every bit as endearing in statue form as in print.

A Journey to the Early Beatles 

Our second day brought a private guide, and with her came the Liverpool that guidebooks rarely reach. For two and a half hours she walked us through the city’s layered story. The maritime wealth, the immigration waves, the music, the football. The particular pride of a place that has never quite seen itself as simply another English city. It was the kind of insider knowledge that reframes everything you thought you already knew. We left the tour considerably more enlightened for it.

Penny Lane in the pouring rain. It seems like it was scripted!

That afternoon we made the pilgrimage to Penny Lane. It would be too neat to say we planned what happened next. As we turned onto that famous street the sky obliged with a steady, committed Liverpool rain. The barbershop was there. The shelter in the middle of the roundabout. And there we were, walking up and down in the drizzle, thoroughly soaked — or rather, one of us was. Meg had the good sense to come prepared. I did not own a mac, and since this was not my home or business, I could not rush in anywhere from the pouring rain. Apparently this struck Meg as not merely impractical but faintly baffling. She was right on both counts.

From Penny Lane we made our way to Strawberry Field. The famous red gates overlooking the grounds where a young John Lennon once played as a child. It was a dreamlike landscape that would eventually become one of rock and roll’s most beloved songs. Standing there quietly in the aftermath of the rain, it was easy to understand why the place never left him.

Manchester

The train delivered us into Manchester with the efficient abruptness that rail travel does best. Within minutes we had found our way to Mackie Mayor, the city’s beloved Victorian market hall repurposed into a cathedral of food and drink. We settled in with something adult and restorative, watching the city introduce itself at its own pace — animated, unpretentious, and quietly proud.

The rest of that first day was given over to simply absorbing the place. Manchester wears its industrial past visibly, in the bones of its architecture and the width of its streets, built for the movement of goods and people on a scale that once made this city the engine of a global economy.

Learning the Difficult History

The following morning brought a group walking tour, led by a guide who proved equally at ease with medieval history and contemporary social fault lines. Manchester, we learned, is a city in honest conversation with itself. It grapples openly with questions of inequality, identity, and regeneration that many cities prefer to leave unexamined. It was a refreshing and occasionally uncomfortable portrait.

Vimto – a delicious drink invented in Manchester. We tried it and loved it!

That afternoon, the Science and Industry Museum delivered the Industrial Revolution in full and unsparing detail. The story of the cotton mills is one of almost incomprehensible human cost. Workers, including children as young as five, enduring conditions that the museum presents without softening or euphemism. The noise, the heat, the hours, the toll on small bodies: Manchester does not look away from any of it.

Nor does it flinch from a more troubling thread. Britain abolished slavery decades before the United States, yet Manchester’s merchants continued purchasing cotton harvested by enslaved Americans. Their mills humming with the profits of bondage by proxy. The museum names this plainly and without apology. At its height, we were told by an interpreter, Manchester produced roughly eighty percent of the world’s textile goods. A staggering figure that reframes the entire city you’ve been walking through, casting its grand Victorian facades in a considerably more complicated light. It is precisely this willingness to look honestly at its own history that makes Manchester one of England’s most compelling cities to visit.

Wetherby and the Yorkshire Countryside

We collected a rental car and pointed it north into Yorkshire. Doing so, we traded the urban cadence of Manchester for something older and quieter. Wetherby announced itself without fanfare. A medieval market town that has been holding its weekly market for five centuries, and sees no particular reason to make a fuss about it. We wandered the stalls and cobbled streets as people have always wandered them. Unhurried and attentive, and felt the particular pleasure of a place that has not been polished for tourism.

At the end of our wandering, we ducked into the Red Lion Inn, and the Red Lion rewarded us handsomely. A proper working-class pub of the old school — warm, unpretentious, presided over by a barkeep of genuine friendliness. It is exactly the kind of place that reminds you why English pub culture, at its best, is worth travelling for. We sampled the wares and felt entirely at home.

The Moors

The following day took us up onto the North York Moors, where the landscape opened into something vast and melancholy and beautiful. The clouds were low and heavy, but rather than diminishing the famous view they seemed to deepen it — lending the moors a brooding quality that felt wholly appropriate. We captured the white horse cut into the hillside, half-swallowed by mist, and agreed that the grey skies had given us something a sunny day never could.

A Historical Abbey – Completely Abandoned, Except for Us

Byland Abbey – no one there except us and memories of Monks from almost 1,000 years ago.

Then we found Byland Abbey. It was built in the twelfth century under the Benedictine rule and surrendered — like all the others — to Henry VIII’s particular brand of theological acquisitiveness. Today, it stands in magnificent ruin across an open field. What made it extraordinary was the solitude: we were the only visitors. A volunteer host showed us how to read the mason’s marks cut directly into the stonework. The quiet signatures of the men who built this place eight hundred years ago and never expected anyone to look for them. The interpretive signs throughout the grounds painted a vivid picture of monastic life. Standing with one hand against those ancient walls in the grey quiet afternoon, it was possible to feel, without any effort of imagination, the weight of the generations who had prayed here.

That evening we walked Wetherby’s bridge at sunset. As we did so, the River Wharfe was catching the last of the light below us — a moment of stillness after a day spent among ruins.

From the Moors to the Dales

Yorkshire Dales the next morning brought us to Bolton Abbey, substantially larger than Byland and considerably less deteriorated. It was handsome and well-tended, and we appreciated it as it deserved. And yet… perhaps it was the crowds, or the manicured grounds, or simply the memory of standing alone at Byland with the wind and the mason’s marks — but Bolton Abbey, for all its grandeur, could not quite compete.

Where the Magna Carta was Written

Our final Yorkshire excursion took us to Spofforth Castle, where history of the most consequential kind is said to have unfolded. It is here that rebel barons, among them Richard de Percy, are believed to have gathered in 1215 to draft the terms of what would become the Magna Carta — the document that would reshape the relationship between crown and subject across the centuries. The castle is abandoned now, open to the public without charge, its stones warm and accessible in a way that great history rarely is. We touched those walls too.

We ended the day as the English do it best: a traditional Sunday roast at a local pub. Enormous portions, honest prices, and the deep satisfaction of a meal that asks nothing of you except appetite.

York

We left Wetherby and pointed the car north, making a worthy detour through Ripon first. The cathedral there is a quiet marvel — and inside, the Ripon Jewel and a chalice dating to the 1500s stopped us in our tracks. Small objects carrying an almost unreasonable weight of history. Continuing on, we pulled over at Hetchell Woods for a stretch of the legs, following woodland trails until we reached a river crossing made entirely of stepping stones. The challenge was accepted, the crossing was made, dignity more or less intact.

York received us with the easy confidence of a city that knows exactly what it is. We marked the occasion with the obligatory photograph at the York sign, then found our way to a historical pub overlooking the Shambles. That impossibly preserved medieval street of overhanging timber facades and overrun by Harry Potter fans. We settled in with a well-earned pint watching the world go by.

Paddington Appears (Again!)

Paddington in York – he keeps showing up. I think he has a crush on Meg 😉

The following day brought a guided walk that filled in the city’s extraordinary layering — Roman, Viking, Norman, medieval, all of it stacked and interwoven beneath your feet. Paddington Bear made another appearance, as he seemingly does everywhere on this journey, and we obliged him with a photograph. But it is the Minster that commands everything. Massive and imposing in a way that photographs simply cannot prepare you for, it rises above the rooftops of York like a medieval argument for the existence of something greater than ourselves.

That evening gifted us something entirely unplanned. The bells of the Minster began to ring, and the bell choir rose beneath them. The sound carried through the entire town — across the cobblestones and through the narrow lanes and over the ancient walls. Standing outside the imposing building made the centuries feel briefly, beautifully thin. As the bells faded, we walked the ramparts in the lingering light, looking down upon rooftops and spires and streets that have witnessed hundreds of years of unbroken human life below.

The ghost walk, alas, was cancelled at the last minute — the guide unavailable, the spirits uninterviewed. No matter. York wears its haunted reputation in every shadowed alleyway and crooked medieval lane (known as snikleways), and no formal tour was needed to feel it. We left with the distinct sense that York’s ghosts are perfectly capable of introducing themselves.

Thanks for reading

Feel free to reach out via the link above or leave a comment

Cam and Meg 

An Iberian Peninsula cruise part II

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This article was written by Cam with help from Meg and Claude AI. All photos are ours.

A previous post covers Part I of this cruise, the departure and visits to Seville, Cadiz, Gibraltar and Malaga.

Overnight, the ship sailed from Malaga to Cartagena. This is one of the things we love about cruising. You go to bed and wake up in a new port. Explore all day, then come back, rest a bit and eat dinner. There are shows and performances in the evening as the ship departs. Then off to bed. Rinse and repeat. No days spent travelling from A to B. It works for us, your milage may vary.

Off to Cartagena Spain

There are Roman ruins and then there are Roman ruins. Cartagena belongs firmly in the second category. The kind that stops you mid-step and recalibrates your sense of what old actually means. The Roman theatre, built in the first century BC and capable of seating thousands, is dramatic in the way that only genuinely intact things can be. This is not a field of suggestive rubble requiring interpretive signage and a generous imagination. The semicircle of stone seating rises in tiers as it always did, the stage area below it still readable as a stage. The whole structure sitting in the middle of a modern Spanish city with the quiet authority of something that has simply outlasted every argument for its removal. 

The Roman Theatre of Cartagena has been speaking for over two thousand years. Long before today’s city and skyline even existed.

We moved through it slowly, the way you do when a place earns that kind of attention. I found myself thinking of all the Roman remains I have encountered across my travels, these ranked among the finest. Not merely for their age, but for the completeness with which they communicate the life that once filled them.

It’s About the Food…Always

Back on the ship that evening, we skipped the dining room for the buffet. Not any buffet, an Indian buffet. We were told the kitchen approached this meal with seriousness. That was evident. The spices were present in the way they should be — not gesturing toward authenticity but delivering it. The kind of depth of flavour that takes time and knowledge and must be done by the right hands. It brought back the subcontinent directly and without apology, the aromas alone enough to transport back. There is a particular pleasure in finding food that does not hedge. Food that commits fully to what it is trying to be. This was that. After a day spent among the achievements of one ancient civilisation, it was deeply satisfying to sit down to the cuisine of another. It was a wonderful meal.

Alicante

Castillo (Castle) de Santa Bárbara sits high above Alicante on a bare rocky outcrop, and it earns its position. The views from the defensive battlements take in the whole curve of the bay. The white city below, and the Mediterranean stretching away to the horizon. It is a fortress that has seen Carthaginians, Romans, Moors, and Spaniards. That is a lot of generations, empires, dynasties and more.  It wears its long history with the blunt indifference of stone that has simply endured. We were glad to have visited. But the castle, if we are being honest, was merely the opening act of our day.

Azamara’s White Night – A True Show Stopper

Azamara makes no secret of its White Night party. It is spoken of aboard ship with the particular reverence that travellers reserve for experiences they have heard about but not yet had. A promised evening that risks, as all promised evenings do, the possibility of falling short. It did not fall short. We dressed in white, as everyone else had, and stepping out onto the deck that evening it was immediately clear that the ship had transformed itself. The guests had risen to the occasion collectively and the effect was genuinely glamorous — hundreds of people in white against the warm Mediterranean night, the ship lit and festive, the sense that something worth remembering was about to unfold.

All white and all in – Azamara’s White Night party did not disappoint.

The dinner that preceded the party was, without qualification, among the finest buffets either of us has encountered at sea or on land. To call it abundant feels inadequate. Lobster, tempura shrimp, sashimi, lamb — the table seemed to extend in every direction, each turn revealing something else that had no business being as good as it was. But it was the crêpes Suzette that settled the matter. Prepared properly, finished in flame, the caramelised orange and butter sauce doing exactly what it should — they were the best I have ever eaten. Not the best on a ship. The best, full stop. The sheer variety and generosity of the evening defied any single attempt to summarise it; it was the kind of meal you keep returning to in conversation for days afterward, each of you remembering something the other had forgotten. Then the pool deck opened, and the real party began.

Dinner Was Only A Warm Up

There is a particular joy in line dancing. We attended a class prior to the party, to learn the moves the dance team would do. Joining in, we felt as if we were part of the dance troop, our timing matching theirs. At least I think it did, the free-flowing wine may have clouded my judgement. We limbo’d. We danced. The band played on and we stayed with them, the warm night air and the residual glow of the finest meal of the voyage conspiring to make leaving unthinkable. When the band finally packed up their instruments, it felt less like an ending than a natural pause — the kind that comes after an evening has given everything it had. Azamara builds its White Night reputation carefully and guards it seriously. Having now been to one, I understand completely why. Some things, it turns out, are as good as advertised.   

València

València rewards the visitor who is willing to slow down, and we were in the right mood for it after our White Night. The cathedral anchored the morning — ancient, layered, and self-possessed in the way of churches that have been absorbing the city’s history for nearly eight centuries. From there we found the Llotja de la Seda, the old silk exchange, where a courtyard of orange trees sat in orderly, fragrant rows, the fruit still hanging heavy on the branches. It was the kind of incidental beauty that a city like València seems to produce without effort, tucked behind an unassuming doorway and entirely unconcerned with whether you noticed it or not.

An Exceptional Market

But the Mercado Central was where the day found its true character. Centred on food, it is one of the largest covered markets in Europe. Operating with the unhurried confidence of a place that serves its neighbourhood first and its visitors second. That instinct is precisely what makes it worth the visit. Locals moved through the stalls with the ease of long habit — selecting, chatting, tasting — and we moved among them happily, grazing on whatever presented itself, the market revealing itself as a place of genuine daily life rather than curated spectacle.

Sometimes a perfect lunch is an unplanned lunch

We bought lunch before we left. An Iberian ham sandwich on bread so fresh it was practically still warm — the crust crackling at the first pressure, the inside soft enough to dissolve. We took it outside and ate on a park bench in the sunshine, in front of the market, watching València go about its afternoon. It was, by any objective measure, a simple meal. It was also, in the way that simple meals occasionally are when everything aligns — the bread, the ham, the sunshine, the unhurried moment — completely perfect.

Barcelona — Our Amended Departure

That evening, we set sail for Barcelona, our arrival time was scheduled for 6:00 AM. Putting our luggage out before retiring, we confidently knew we would arrive on time. We have on every other cruise. 

Two months before the cruise started, an email arrived from the Ryanair with the particular cheerful neutrality that carriers deploy when delivering unwelcome news. Our flight from Barcelona to Birmingham, originally scheduled to depart at 11:30 AM, had been moved to 3:30 PM. Four hours had been added to our final day. Four hours we had not asked for and did not especially want. Now to be spent wandering aimlessly through a city we were not prepared to properly visit. We were, not unreasonably, annoyed. The fare was nonrefundable, the alternative was changing dates entirely, and so we absorbed the inconvenience with the resigned pragmatism of experienced travellers who know that the airline always wins. We noted it, filed our irritation away, and got on with the cruise.

The morning of disembarkation was to have begun at 6AM, the ship scheduled to arrive in Barcelona at dawn. It did not arrive at dawn. Somewhere in the approaches to the harbour, the fog had settled in with the kind of dense, unhurried authority that cares nothing for departure schedules or carefully arranged logistics. At 7 AM I went on deck to see the harbour. However, Barcelona was nowhere to be seen. 

Whatever Shall We Do?

There was only the grey-white stillness of a harbour closed to traffic, the water barely visible below, the city entirely erased. It was eerie in the way that fog at sea always is — the world reduced to the ship itself, everything beyond its railings simply absent. The captain’s voice came over the intercom just after seven, calm and measured, to inform us that the port remained closed and that we were sitting second in the queue. Then again at half past seven. Then eight. The announcements arrived every thirty minutes with the steady rhythm of a slow drumbeat, each one a minor variation on the same theme: we are waiting, the port is closed, we will update you shortly. The ship held its position and we held ours. Those with early morning departures were simply out of luck. 

Heading to Port

At half past eight the tone shifted. The port had opened. The captain’s announcement carried something that stopped just short of audible relief, and the ship began to move. Barcelona materialised gradually through the thinning fog — the cranes first, then the waterfront, then the city stacking itself up behind, emerging from the white as though being assembled in real time. We docked at seven minutes past nine, but docking, as any cruiser knows, is merely the beginning of the bureaucratic final chapter. No one was permitted ashore until quarter past ten. Our luggage, checked the night before, needed to find its way from ship to shore. By the time we walked down the gangway it was eleven o’clock in the morning.

Under the original flight plan, we would have missed it by a margin too tight to contemplate. Under the revised one — the revised one we had complained about, the one that had felt like an imposition — we had time. Not time to explore Barcelona, not time to sit at a café or walk the Ramblas or do any of the things the city deserved. But time enough to take the metro to the airport without panic. To check in without the cold sweat of a departures board already flashing our gate. Time enough to board our flight to Birmingham in something approaching composure. 

It Worked Out In The End

The airline, in rescheduling our flight for reasons entirely unrelated to our welfare, had accidentally done us an enormous favour. It is the kind of irony that travel occasionally produces — the frustration that becomes, in retrospect, the thing that saved the day. We settled into our seats as the plane lifted away from Barcelona, the fog long since burned off, the city glittering below us in the late afternoon sun, and I thought about the email two months earlier and the irritation it had caused, and found that I had nothing left to say about it except thank you.

As we left, reflecting on our cruise, we both agreed, we were very impressed with Azamara cruise lines. It is not a question of if we will sail with them again, but when. When we book a big trip, each leg is booked as part of a plan that will allow us to learn more. Learn about ourselves, our world, our neighbours, cultures, history and of course, food. As long as Azamara cruises has a cruise in an area where we hope to be, we’ll be onboard for another adventure. 

Thanks for reading

Feel free to reach out via the link above or leave a comment

Cam and Meg 

An Iberian Peninsula cruise

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This article was written by Cam with help from Meg and Claude AI. All photos are property of Cam and Meg.

Starting Our Cruise

Leaving Lisbon and sailing down the Tagus River, past the Tower of Belém. We said farewell to Portugal and headed down the Iberian coast towards Spain. The next afternoon, we entered the Guadalquivir River, passing through locks, eventually docking in downtown Seville. Our ship, the Azamara Journey, is a smaller vessel, with only 690 guests. This size allows the vessel to visit ports that the larger size cruise ships simply cannot get into. We were very glad to be where no other cruise ship could be. 

Arriving in Seville the Pearl of Andalusia

Meg in an alcove at sunset
Meg in the Balearic alcove — the tiles were glowing, the light was golden, and neither of us was in any hurry to leave.

It was half past seven on the last evening of March and the day was winding down towards night. We stepped into Plaza de España and were lucky enough to see the last of the sun hitting the towers turning everything it touched to beautiful colours of copper and rust. The towers rose above us as the sun withdrew behind them, the long shadows stretching across the curved colonnade and the ceramic-tiled alcoves that lined the plaza’s embrace. Meg hopped into an alcove and there was a theatrical quality to it. 

That night, Seville revealed something else entirely. As we moved into the old city towards the Cathedral, we actually heard it before we saw it. Drums and horns sounded an ongoing beat with chanting also filling the air. Hundreds if not thousands of hooded pilgrims carrying crosses and candles. Their faces obscured, their flames casting long shadows across Seville’s ancient facades. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people lined the narrow streets and squares. The procession belonged to another century.

Walking Amongst the Procession – A Step Back in Time

It felt like we had walked into the Middle Ages—hooded figures, candlelight, chanting, and the heavy scent of incense filling the streets of Seville.

Figures in white robes moved slowly through the candlelight. At the head of it all, a great float bore Christ carrying the cross, shoulders bent under its weight. The crowd was silent in the way crowds rarely are — and stilled, as though the city itself had drawn a long, slow breath. We stood among strangers and felt, briefly, like witnesses to something that did not belong to us but had generously admitted us anyway. On the ship, many people had spoken of wanting to witness one of these processions. Having seen it, we now understood why.

Our second day in Seville was given over to wandering, which is the only honest way to move through a city like this. We found the Torre del Oro at the river’s edge in the morning sun. Golden in name and golden in the morning haze. We then turned toward the cathedral — the largest Gothic church in the world, though statistics feel inadequate inside it. We climbed the Giralda, a minaret-turned-bell-tower. The ramps worn smooth by centuries of up and down travel. From the top the view of the city showed colours of the earth. Terracotta and white spreading in every direction. 

Inside the cathedral, the organ commanded the space — more than ten thousand pipes. Even silent in the choir loft, it had a presence, a kind of latent authority.

Visiting Historic Bakeries

The Bakery Turnstile – You Never see the Nun’s, nor do they see you. It’s been that way for centuries (except the credit card machine!)

Leaving the cathedral, and wandering the narrow alleyways allowed us the most unique moment of our visit here. We found a small bakery run by nuns. We followed a Spanish couple through an innocuous door, which had a small multi-lingual sign saying ‘sweet shop’. The courtyard inside had a little counter with a wooden turnstile.  Beside it, a price list for baked goods. The bakery is run by cloistered nuns.  Customers never see their faces – and vice versa.  Clients knock with the knocker and order by yelling. The nuns place the order on the turnstile, the client verifies and then the nun provides a credit card machine on the turntable which you tap. A very modern touch to a very olden shopping experience.

A Mid-Afternoon Pause

By afternoon our travels had taken us across the river to Triana. This neighbourhood is also where many ceramic tile ‘factories’ are situated. We were able to watch an artist meticulously painting trivets.  She was very intensely focused despite the hubbub around her.

Although the Triana market was closed, the open-air cafés were welcoming.  We ordered drinks and did nothing more than watch Seville go about its business. As we did so, golden hour carried out its slow work on the water. After a long day, that felt like exactly enough.

The Real Alcázar – A Historic Palace

Meg framed by the arches at the Real Alcázar, with the still water below catching just enough light to double the moment.

On our final morning, we were at the Real Alcázar at the moment the gates opened. The reward was the kind that patient travellers are occasionally granted: quiet. The reflecting pool held just the two of us in its stillness, the palace’s intricate facade doubled in the water below. Later, the gardens unfolded like a series of secrets — jasmine-scented corridors, hidden fountains, ordered geometry giving way to lush abundance. By afternoon, the city had turned its attention to the sacred. Well-dressed families moved through the crooked alleys toward church services with a purposefulness that reminded us we were passing through, pleasantly unmoored, while Seville observed its own ancient rhythms around us.

Off to Cadiz.

There is a lightness to Cádiz that Seville, for all its grandeur, does not possess. Where Seville draws you inward with shadowed courtyards, candlelit processions and the gravity of centuries — Cádiz opens outward: toward the Atlantic, toward the sky. It is one of the oldest cities in Western Europe. While it has miles of beaches, and hotels, historically, the town guarded the harbour entrance. Several forts can still be found around its coast. 

The buildings are bleached, salt-scrubbed and cheerful. The white facades bright in the morning sun. We began at Torre Tarvia, the tallest building in the old town. It has a camera obscura, essentially a periscope – a tube with a mirror and lenses – which projects a live image of the city projected onto a circular table in miniature. Rooftops, streets, and neighbours seen hanging laundry, watering plants and anything else that they do on their rooftop terraces. The surrounding sea rendered in silence, like a living map of a place that had long since stopped being in any hurry.

Nothing has Changed for Centuries

Wandering the old town, we were rewarded in the way that only truly ancient places can reward you. You could tell, moving through its narrow streets, that very little had fundamentally changed here over time. The stones underfoot, the low doorways and the small plazas opening unexpectedly off crooked alleys must have looked more or less like this for longer than most cities have existed. It was not a museum stillness, though. Locals moved through it with the casual ownership of people who have never needed to be impressed by where they live. We moved among them happily, unhurried, letting the streets decide our direction.

In the afternoon we found the beach, and the city fell away behind us. The sun was warm as we walked the long curve of sand. The Atlantic stretching wide and blue to the west. After the incense and the candlelight of Holy Week Seville, there was something deeply restorative about the clean air and open horizon. We both find the steady sound of the surf and the simple pleasure of walking with our feet in the cool sea with no particular destination to be relaxing. I think everyone does. 

Gibraltar – England’s Hold on the Med

Once the ship had arrived, we went ashore and found a city bus to take us to the Rock of Gibraltar. The bus climbed the switchbacks, and, as the town got smaller, we saw the sea pressing in on both sides. From up on the Rock, you have a great view. To the north, the Spanish coastline curving away toward Algeciras; to the south, Africa. Not the idea of Africa, but the actual continent, close enough to feel like a short swim rather than another world. 

The Strait of Gibraltar is only 14 kilometres at its narrowest. Standing at the top of the Rock, with the Mediterranean on one side and the Atlantic beginning on the other, you understand instinctively why this small, improbable place has been fought over for so long. It is not merely a piece of land. It is the hinge between oceans, continents and civilisations.

We needed to climb the last bit and it was an uphill climb. Inside, the tunnels begin to explain themselves slowly. As you enter, rock closes around you, and what reveals itself over the course of several hours is not a single feat of engineering but a composition. Excavations carried out across different wars and different centuries, each generation of defenders burrowed deeper and extended further. Their goal, to find new ways to make the mountain serve the purposes of survival. 

Canadian Contributions to the Tunnels (and Victory)

The earliest galleries date to the Great Siege of the 1780s, hand-drilled by British soldiers into limestone. But it was the Canadian contribution during the Second World War that made us proud. Working under conditions that were by any measure extraordinary. There was the constant noise, the dust, the darkness, the urgency of a war, whose outcome in 1942, remained genuinely uncertain. Yet, Canadian engineers still helped carve out a vast network of tunnels sufficient to house and supply an entire garrison. 

From inside the Rock of Gibraltar — Africa on the horizon, the Mediterranean below, and the Crown firmly in possession.

What lingers, walking back out into the sunshine, is the cumulative weight of the place. Gibraltar is only six and a half square kilometres, and yet it contains so much history: Moorish fortifications, British colonial architecture, a population that is neither fully Spanish nor straightforwardly English. Beneath the surface of the Rock itself, this extraordinary hidden city of tunnels that most visitors never fully reckon with. 

Once we finished with the Rock, we found our way to the most southerly point in Europe. Our impression is simply that it is windy.  Our captain had been pleasantly surprised at the lack of wind when we docked; I had trouble standing against it at Europa Lighthouse.  Apparently, it is often worse. 

Málaga

Easter Sunday arrives differently in Málaga than it does in Seville. Where Seville’s Holy Week processions carry the full weight of penitence and solemnity, Málaga on Easter morning had shaken something loose — there was joy in it. A brightness that matched the day itself. The procession that stopped traffic was less a funeral march and more of a celebration, the crowds lining the streets in good spirits, children on shoulders, the floats moving through the city with a kind of triumphant ease. We stood among the throng and let it wash over us before the cathedral doors drew me in.

The Málaga Cathedral is a magnificent and slightly unfinished thing — it has been missing its second tower since the eighteenth century, the funds for its completion having been redirected to the American Revolution, of all places. Inside, the Easter Sunday mass was in full voice, the Spanish rolling through the vaulted space with great confidence and zero concession to the uninitiated. I lasted approximately thirty minutes, following none of it, before slipping quietly out into the sunshine with what I can only describe as the mild sheepishness of a student leaving an exam early. The cathedral deserved better attention than I was equipped to give it that morning.

The afternoon redeemed everything. I climbed the hill above the city, and the path gave way to wildflowers — great drifts of colour along the hillside, vivid against the dry scrub and the pale stone. Below and beyond, the Mediterranean stretched out in every direction, flat and luminous and endless under the Easter sun. After the tunnels of Gibraltar, the solemnity of Seville, the ancient stones of Cádiz, there was something quietly perfect about sitting on a hillside among wildflowers, with nothing between us and Africa but open water and light.

End of Part I of our Iberian Cruise

For now, we thank you for reading the first part of our Iberian cruise. It has been a blast. Our cruise will carry on to Cartagena, Alicante, White Night, Valencia and finally Barcelona. Stay tuned.

Feel free to reach out via the link above or leave a comment

Cam and Meg 

We are off! Portugal here we come!

As so many of our trips start, we headed out on a BC Ferry, taking the ‘Spirit of Vancouver Island’ from Schwartz Bay to Tsawwassen. We then spent a couple of days catching up with my mom followed by one night at the River Rock Hotel in Richmond. Being right on the Skytrain line, it was a five-minute train ride to the airport. Check-in was simple and we headed to the lounge for a light breakfast before boarding our flight. Although we left Vancouver a bit late, we arrived in Montreal earlier than scheduled. There were some pretty strong tailwinds. While the flight itself was smooth, we received a distressing email while in the air.

There are two types of luggage – Carry on and Lost

Air Canada’s bag tracking app sent a message to Meg mid-flight, while we were in the air, over Manitoba. The email advised that her bag had just been offloaded in Fort St. John, BC. How could that happen? Then, to make the story even more bizarre, another message came in 90-minutes later, just before we landed in Montreal. It said her bag had been off loaded in Montreal. That’s not actually possible, unless it was in an F-18 fighter jet.

Our bags had been checked through from Vancouver to Porto, so we could not actually lay eyes on them in Montreal. Once on the ground we spoke with two different customer service reps. One said she did not have access to the system, you’ll need to find someone else. 

Thanks.

The other rep said the app was often wrong, don’t worry about it. He then said “you are here and your tag says your baggage is going to Porto; you’ll be fine”. Re-assuring, those words were not. Meg, ever the optimist, decided it would be fine and, although not re-assured, decided to head to the lounge to have a light snack before the next leg of our flight to Brussels.

Arriving in Europe

Porto’s seemingly chaotic but organized roofline.

We arrived in Brussels on time and, once we cleared European customs, we waited for our next flight. It was then off to Porto. As we flew into Porto, we could see why people fall for this historically charming city. The terracotta rooftops tumble down toward the Douro like something spilled and never cleaned up. While seemingly chaotic, it was also warm, and entirely deliberate in the way only very old cities can manage.

Arriving in Porto, we went to claim our bags. While waiting for the conveyor belt to start, I received an email from Brussels Airlines saying my bag had not been loaded onto the flight. They also said there is nothing to worry about as it would be on the next flight. Unfortunately, the next flight was the following day. As I filled out the lost luggage report, Meg’s bag was one of the first to land on the carousel. What a turn of events. As I’ve said, there are two types of luggage. Mine was the ‘lost’ type.

Sunset over the Douro River

After we checked in, we started, as one should, on foot, exploring the old town, close to our apartment. It was beautiful and, the warm sunshine only made it nicer. Sunset from the bridge was postcard perfect. 

Our Days in Porto

Sunshine streaming down in front of Sé Cathedral, Porto

The next morning, on a walking tour, our guide led us through streets that refuse to be straight. We started at Sé Cathedral, which sits on its hilltop with the quiet authority of something that has watched eight centuries of history and yet has not been moved. The stone is dark and serious, but the azulejo tilework in the cloister catches the morning light and turns the whole place warmer. 

On to the waterfront area, the Ribeira, rounded out the morning. The old wine lodges sit low and long across the river in Vila Nova de Gaia. Our guide explained the whole peculiar arrangement — how the port wine was historically floated downriver from the Douro Valley in flat-bottomed boats called rabelos. It is then matured in long warehouses across the water. Porto, she noted with some satisfaction, gets the view. Gaia gets the wine. It seemed an equitable arrangement until you’re standing there in the sun looking across the river and realizing Porto has rather gotten the better end of things. Carrying on into town, we continued to view churches and towers while learning about history, invasions, occupations and coups. 

From there we wound down to the São Bento railway station, where the grand entrance hall stopped us cold — twenty thousand hand-painted tiles telling Portugal’s history right there in the train station. This is either the most civilized thing a country has ever done or proof that the Portuguese simply cannot help themselves when it comes to blue and white ceramic. We chose to interpret it as the former.

Exploring Porto’s most famous item

There are actually no Port Houses in Porto, as our guide told us, they are in Villa Nova de Gaia. The reason, so we’ve been told, is twofold. The obvious is taxes. Businesses have always gone where they can make more money. Paying less taxes and dodging tolls, means keeping more money. The other reason, and actually more important, is heat. The afternoon sun bakes Porto, but is gentler on Vila Nova de Gaia. Thus, the aging process is less affected. 

When trying to determine which Port House to visit, I reviewed at least 15. Big and small. British and Portuguese. Well-known international houses and local affairs. In the end, I decided to head to one that I knew, at least by their product, which I have sampled more than once. 

The afternoon belonged to Graham’s.

Some of the samples of port we tried.

The lodge climbs the hillside in a series of terraces, and the tour took us through the whole arc of port production. Varieties, vintages, the slow mathematics of ageing in barrels, blending and more. Our guide spoke about it the way people speak about things they genuinely love, which is to say he occasionally forgot he was giving a tour and simply started talking.

The tasting that followed covered five ports, moving from younger rubies through the older expressions. The room grew progressively warmer as we worked our way along. The LBV — Late Bottled Vintage — was the one that landed cleanest for both of us: structured and rich, with just enough tannin to feel like it means something. The aged tawnies were gentler things, almost meditative, the oak and the years having worked on them until they tasted like a comfortable afternoon in autumn. Mellow vanilla and caramel shone through various tawnies. We drank more than we planned to. Everyone does.

Colonial ties run deep, at least at the dinner table.

Portugal’s deep colonial ties to the province of Goa, in India, left a lasting culinary imprint. Portuguese settlers developed a profound appreciation for the bold, aromatic spices of Indian cuisine. This rich history sparked our curiosity, and we set out to explore authentic local Indian flavors firsthand.

We discovered a charming, family-run Indian restaurant — the kind of place where recipes are passed down through generations and every dish is crafted with genuine care. I ordered a fragrant biriyani, while Meg chose the tandoori chicken paired with freshly baked bread. Both dishes were outstanding, bursting with authentic flavor and prepared with obvious skill and love.

The experience was nothing short of remarkable, and all at a surprisingly affordable price. Truly a hidden gem which made us appreciate Porto even more.

A Day in the Douro Valley

The Douro Valley requires a full day and earns every hour of it. The drive east follows the river as it cuts deeper into the hills, the landscape gradually organizing itself into something extraordinary. By the time you reach wine country proper, the hillsides have been terraced into steep agricultural geometry — row after row of vines stepping up slopes that seem to have no business being farmed at all. 

On our visit in early spring, the terraces were just waking up. The vines sending out the first shy growth of the season, the stone walls still grey from winter. It was beautiful the way serious things are beautiful — not immediately, but increasingly, the longer you looked. As we headed up the hills, the greenery became more pronounced, a clear sign that ‘location is the only rule’ does not only apply to real estate but to wineries also! 

A River view of the Vines

Terraced vines along the river – centuries of winemaking.

Our river cruise gave the best perspective of all. For an hour we drifted past the Quintas — the estates — each with their own particular arrangement of terraces and manor houses and the odd chapel. The famous names appeared and passed: Quinta do Crasto, Quinta do Vale Meão, others tucked into the hillsides as if trying to avoid the attention. It was peaceful in the way that moving water is always peaceful, which is to say profoundly.

Two tastings followed at separate wineries. Each was distinct in character and approach. Lunch at Quinta do Lodeiro was the sort of meal that makes you reconsider your life. Long tables, local wine poured without ceremony, food that came from nearby and knew it. To wrap things up, the only concluding option was port wine. A 10-year-old tawny. Drinking it made me realize, at least for a few minutes, my problems were first world problems. 

What else is in Porto?

The third day was slower, and deliberately so. We headed out to Foz, on the coast, to see the beaches and the Atlantic. The beach there is long and windswept. It feels genuinely at the end of things. Looking east, there is nothing until the America’s. How daunting it would have been for Columbus, Magellan and other explorers back in the day? 

Meg reflecting on life as the waves come in

On the beach, we walked for a while and said very little, which is its own kind of conversation. Heading back into town, the Bolhão market followed — covered, lively, smelling of the morning’s fish and the afternoon’s lunch. It is the sort of market that has clearly been doing this for a very long time and intends to keep going, although in a changed way. In reality, it is a bit sad to see fewer and fewer local merchants. They have been pushed out for hawkers selling to tourists. Change is the only constant. Lunch was fresh, haphazard, inexpensive and delicious. I can only imagine what it would have been like 25 years ago.  

In the evening, for our last night, we headed out to the old town and simply walked. Up the cobblestones and down them. Through squares where people gathered without apparent reason other than that it was evening and there was nowhere else they needed to be. We found a bar eventually, as one does, and sat with our drinks listening to the street noise and the distant sound of someone playing fado two alleys away.

Our final thoughts on Porto 

Porto is one of those cities that doesn’t try particularly hard to charm you. It simply goes about its business — the wine, the tiles, the hills, the river — and trusts that you’ll come around to it. We came around to it by the first afternoon. By the last night, leaving the next morning felt genuinely difficult, which is exactly the right way for this leg of our trip to end.

Our final thoughts on Porto…we hope to come back, but for now, we were off to Sintra.

Sintra

Arriving in Sintra, we made our way into town and wandered through its narrow streets, pausing to admire the extraordinary facade of the Quinta da Regaleira. Without tickets and deterred by the lengthy queues snaking outside, we contented ourselves with taking in its gothic towers and elaborate stonework from the street. It was a tantalising glimpse of the romantic follies and secret tunnels within that left us already planning a return visit.

The decision to stay overnight in Sintra rather than Lisbon proved wise. As the afternoon wore on, we watched the crowds thin dramatically, day-trippers streaming back towards the train station and the city. By evening, the town had settled into a quieter, more authentic rhythm. Finding a place to eat was easy with guests rather than tourists in town. It made the whole place feel suddenly more like itself.

A quiet morning

The reward came the following morning. Rising early, we stepped out to find Sintra almost entirely to ourselves. Cobblestones empty, the air cool and still, the palaces bathed in soft morning light. It felt like a private audience with one of Europe’s most theatrical towns. That magic lasted until nine, when the first visitors began arriving once more.

The palace on a beautiful sunny day – sunglasses required!

We spent our morning at Pena Palace, and it did not disappoint. Perched high above the town on a forested hilltop, the palace is a gloriously extravagant confection — turrets, battlements and domes painted in bold ochres and terracottas. The whole structure looked more like a fever dream than a royal residence. Inside, the state rooms are preserved much as they were left in 1910, offering an intimate window into Portuguese royal life. Outside, we explored the sprawling grounds and dramatic viewpoints opening up across the Serra de Sintra and, all the way to the Atlantic.

Farewell to Portugal

It was a vivid final chapter before descending to Lisbon. We would now say good bye to Portugal and board our waiting cruise ship for a journey to Spain. For us, it is not if we will return to Portugal, but when. 

Thanks for reading.

Feel free to leave comments or contact us by the link above.

Cam and Meg

England – Spring 2025

We were off again on April 1st, and that was no April Fool’s joke! A ferry ride from Vancouver Island to Vancouver and an overnight stay with my Mom before hopping a flight across the pond to Heathrow. The revised timings of our flights was a bit harrowing. 

Arriving at YVR Airport on Time but the Connection is late…

The SkyTrain took us to Vancouver’s airport in good time and we settled into the lounge to relax before our first flight. A message informed us our Vancouver to Calgary flight was delayed by 25 minutes due to the crew coming in late from another flight. This would make the connection time only 48 minutes. Speaking with WestJet ground staff, they informed me there were 18 other passengers heading to Heathrow on our flight. The timing was tight, but doable. 

Starting off our trip on a BC Ferry

As is often the case, things did not go to plan and the incoming crew arrived even later than planned, but not too late. As we landed, the “welcome to Calgary” announcement on the plane included the Heathrow bound plane was boarding and passengers were to immediately to go to the gate. Naturally, the gate was on the other side of the airport, at least 15 minutes away.

Neither of us wanted to do an OJ Simpson run through the airport, so we briskly walked. It turned out we were the last two people to board the aircraft and as we approached the gate, we heard a “Absolute final call for Miller, party of two, the gates are now closing”. I’m not sure how serious they were as we had to wait on the jetway to board the aircraft as many other people were in front of us, likely those on our connecting flight. We both chose to use the facilities in the airport. They are much nicer in the airport vs the plane, just trust me on that one.

Our Seat Companion – a Parent with a Baby…

On the plane, we walked down the aisle. Our two empty seats in a row of three awaited us. We had selected a middle and window so we were beside each other for the overnight flight. Seated in the aisle seat of our row was the one passenger no one wants next to them. A parent with a babe in arms. I thought, eight hours in the air, overnight with a baby next to me, how much sleep would I get?

Settling in, the flight crew began closing overhead bins and then a crew member came up to the parent and said they had a whole row toward the back of the aircraft and offered to move the parent, baby and the spouse who was on the other side of the aisle. What a stroke of luck. I enquired if I could leave the aircraft to buy a lottery ticket but they said no. In the end, we had a row to ourselves and quickly spread out over the now empty middle seat on a fully packed airplane. 

Arriving in England (we can read ALL the signs!)

Our flight was uneventful and landed on time. Customs and Immigration were straightforward, our Electronic Arrival Authorization (ETA’s) were in order. At the baggage carousel despite our bags likely being the last to load, they were also almost the last to come off. The Wi-Fi at Heathrow allowed us to look at options to get to Bristol, and coach was the simplest. WestJet uses Terminal 4, and the coaches depart at the Terminal 2/3 coach park. To get between the terminals there is a complementary train that runs frequently, however it was not quite quick enough to get the early coach.

We were faced with the option of a very expensive coach in 15 minutes, or wait for an hour for one that was 60% less. Since we needed lunch and a SIM card, we decided to do both at Heathrow. The savings on bus fare more than offset the cost of lunch and our AirHub ESIM. The bus ride was comfortable and had decent WiFi on the bus. We both managed to sleep a bit during the two-hour ride.

Arrival in Bristol

We are in Bristol, UK!

Arriving in Bristol, we passed by our hotel enroute to the bus station. Our impressions of the town as we drove in, despite the sunshine, was “gritty”. There seemed to be a number of places that could be spruced up and we noticed homeless people about. The 15-minute walk to the hotel took us through Cabot Circus, a major downtown shopping mall. All the usual stores one would see in any North American mall were represented.

Sign for Volunteer Tavern
Sampling beverages.

We had found a restaurant we wanted to try for dinner, unfortunately when we arrived, it was closed with a sign saying they were sold out of food for the day. Luckily, this being England, there were a plethora of Public Houses around. Settling on the ‘Volunteer’, a local pub, we debated which beverage to have. Despite there being a description of all drinks on tap, it was difficult. Samples were offered and, after trying three of the local beers, I settled on an ale and Meg chose a cider. The Volunteer is what we look for when selected a venue. It is not a tourist pub and a bit out of the way. We were certainly the only people with accents. The food was excellent and most tables were having meals and lively conversations.

Given it had been a long day/night with an eight-hour time change, we called it a day.

Day II in Bristol

We were up and off to find breakfast, which we decided to have at St. Nicholas Market. Arriving at 9AM, there were some shops that were just opening and some that were already serving breakfast. Settling on “Crafty Beans”, we ordered an English Breakfast sandwich. It was freshly made, served piping hot and would hold us until lunch.

Our tour guide dressed as an Air Raid Warden, complete with a Brodie Helmet.

Using a new App (GPSMyCity), we started a self-guided walking tour from the market. Having seen a number of the sites on the tour, we headed back to the market to join our 11AM organized excursion of Bristol and the Air Raid Shelter. This tour, close to two hours, took us through some of the early history of the area, battles and figures that shaped the area. Then the highlight, the Air Raid Shelter. The tour guide was a one man show in this regard. He is fighting to have it declared a historic site and has spent countless hours sprucing it up. 

A Glimpse of the Blitz

Ration Books, used until 1954
Air Raid First Aid Kit

Heading down the many stairs, we learned what it was like during the Blitz. From queueing for a spot at the shelter, as not everyone could get in, to how long the bombings took place. Learning about incendiary bombs as well as percussion bombs and how the population took it all in stride. Along the walls were numerous period posters, including the classic “Keep Calm and Carry On”. I cannot imagine the terror of being bombed night after night. Bristol was the 6th hardest hit city during the war. There is an aircraft factory in the region and the other side bombed the cities around it to weaken morale. 

An interesting add on to the tour was the rock and roll section. A number of historic bands played at the Corn Market Hall in Bristol including the Rolling Stones, the WHO, Muddy Waters and others. It was quite the place in the 60’s. A bit of humour is that there is now a rock and fossil store where the stage used to be. I wonder how Mick Jagger feels about that? 

Based on a recommendation of our guide, we lunched at the Market and then headed out on our own walking tour. The GPSMycity App allows you to create your own walks and incorporates GPS so you are less likely to get lost. On our tour we saw a famous Banksey piece of street art – Well Hung Lover. 

Dinner was a picnic in the park overlooking the river at sunset.

Travelling to our Football Match

The walk to the train station was easy, as was boarding our train. We tried “Split Train” ticketing and it worked well, saving us a considerable amount of money. What it entailed was buying three tickets to get from A to B. We did not need to change trains, simply seats. There is a whole science behind it and certain apps will do this for a fee. It is 100% legal and based on dynamic pricing of seats on certain legs of the journey.

The Game is on!

Arriving at the Birmingham airport, we picked up our rental car and headed to our hotel. Arriving at 11:30, we did not think we could check in, but owner said it was not a problem. We dropped our suitcases and then headed for a snack before walking to The Hawthorns to see West Bromwich Albion play. Kick Off was 12:30, vs the normal 3 PM, so it was a bit tight to get through the crowds. This time our seats were two rows off the pitch at what would be the blue line in a hockey rink. This close to the field, we could not only see the expressions on the players faces, but also hear what they were saying when they were near us. Of course, when they were on the other side of the field, we were not as fortunate. 

The Other Side Scores 🙁

The view from our seats – two rows off the pitch

Around the 30-minute mark of the first half, Sunderland was awarded a free kick right in front of us. A right footed kick, that had the perfect spin, managed to get in under the top right corner to give them the lead. As it turned out, that was the only goal of the game as the Baggies could not find the back of the net, despite playing well. That 1 – nil score made me feel jinxed. I’ve been to three games at the Hawthorns and have yet to a West Brom goal. 

When the game ended, we headed back to the hotel for a rest and a dinner out.

The Midlands – Day IV

Being a Sunday, not everything was open, however with a car, our options were more than they may have been otherwise. Scouring a map and reading about various places, Bridgnorth is the place we settled on to explore. A pleasant 45-minute drive took us to another market town that was bustling on a brilliantly sunny day. It turns out there was a classic tractor show and shine and many local enthusiasts were out to look at these historic machines. Not really being our thing, we headed to the castle and gardens. 

The Classic Steam Engine we Rode in.

While there, we saw a steam engine chugging along at the local station and decided to take a look. The train is used most weekends and we were able to have a ride in the engine. This coal-fired engine, dating from 1930, was certainly interesting. Fully restored to its past glory, it rattled and rumbled along, making hissing noises as steam escaped after driving pistons up and down. Since this was England, they had no issues with shovelling coal into the fire box of the train while we were in the cab driving along the tracks. There were only four of us in the cab, the driver, fireman, Meg and I (it was quite a tight fit!) The fireman opened the furnace and shovelled in coal to keep the fire hot. You certainly knew when the furnace door was opened.

Heading back, a quiet dinner and evening walk concluded our day.

Midlands Day V – Black Country Living Museum

One of the things we had hoped to do this trip was to see the Black Country Living Museum (BCLM). It is a period museum with numerous buildings set in various times from 1850 – 1960. You know you are getting older when you see things in a museum that your parents had in your home. The staff, or guides, are also dressed for the time they are representing. Everything was really well done. There were restaurants serving different foods and at least two pubs serving adult beverages. We could not have asked for a better day weather wise, full sun and +16C with no wind. Enthralled with the museum, we ended up spending six hours there. 

The town as it may have looked in the 1940’s

Our highlight exhibit was the mine. Early in the morning we had visited the “shaft” where there were piles of coal. The coal would have been hauled up from the bottom of the mine where it would be sorted. BCLM has done a recreation of a surface mine, but that still goes down 30’. Groups of 25 take part in the tour and hard hats are required. The clearance is only 1.3 Meters in some places so there was lots of ducking under beams. Inside the mine were mannequins who explained the various roles and methods of mining the coal.

The Dangers of Coal Mining

It was dirty work and dangerous. Tunnelling took place which had miners dig out under the coal seam using supports to keep the coal from collapsing. Then, when the time was right, the supports were removed and the large overhang of coal came down. Unfortunately, sometimes the supports failed and miners were crushed. The tunnelling enabled larger pieces of coal to be mined which were more valuable than small pieces. 

A functioning longboat that was used to haul coal. It was also used in the hit show ‘Peaky Blinders’

The Midlands were the heart of the Industrial Revolution. Conditions were terrible and average life span, according to one guide, was 17 ½. The air was foul with coal dust. It was said the area was black by day and red by night. The black would be the coal dust blocking out the sun. At night, the red was from the fires that everyone had going. Coal was used to run machines, heat homes, cook, fire blacksmith shops and more. As coal, iron-ore and limestone were all readily available, everything was done in this area. In addition to being called the Midlands, the area is often referred to as the Black County. 

As we finished our tour, we gave thanks for the world we live in today and for those who forged the society of yesteryear to make the advancements now taken for granted. 

Midlands Day VI – Travel to Morocco – A New Adventure for Us

Today was a travel day to Morrocco, with an afternoon flight. As the airport was an hour away and our need to be there by 12:30, we were limited as to our options of what we could do. In the end we settled on a hike at a nearby National Nature Reserve, Wren’s Nest. It was in this area that limestone was mined from open quarries and underground mines back in the day. There is nothing left of the mining operations, just a nice walk. There are a lot of fossils about, however we did not search for any.

Arriving at the airport, this was our first every EasyJet flight. The instructions indicated bag drop would open at 13:30 for our 15:30 flight. They also said get to the airport at least two hours before the flight. Arriving at 12:30, three hours before our flight, there was nothing we could do until 13:30. EasyJet is a discount carrier and there are no staff until the appointed time. So, we waited in line with a number of other people to tag our bags and head through security. It was a jovial atmosphere as most of the people were going on holiday (vacation to North Americans). 

We boarded our flight and concluded this trip to England. Our plans, although not fixed, have us returning soon, if for nothing else but to hopefully see West Bromwich Albion actually score a goal. COYB – Come On You Baggies!

Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave any comments or reach out by email via the contact form above.

Cam and Meg

French Adventures and Touring – Part I

Friday November 8, 2024

Crossing a bridge from Spain into France, we did not have to clear customs.  We were coming over land within the European Union. Leaving our commuter train, we walked 200 metres to the Henday train station. Our Henday Spain to Bordeaux France train was showing on time, departing in one-hour. We found a park bench and had our picnic lunch in the November noon time sun. 

The French train left right on time and we arrived in Bordeaux as scheduled. From the train station we took the local tram and then walked five-minutes to our new apartment. After checking-in, we visited the local market and picked up some supplies for the next few days.

Moroccan food in France…why not?

As we were wandering, we passed a Moroccan restaurant which sounded appetizing for dinner. At our apartment, we checked it out. Despite having good reviews and scores, the last two reviews commented on seeing a mouse. Fortunately, there was another Moroccan restaurant nearby that actually had better reviews. This was a place that you did not leave hungry. 

The restaurant was a prix-fixe. Your only choice was the main course. The options were many. Just about every tagine you could imagine, from lamb to kofta, to veggie. Once you chose your main, you could go up to the appetizer table. There were at least 30 appies. Salads, hummus, olives, breads, and so much more. One trip to this appie bar was not enough for either of us. The waiter watched as we, along with everyone else, made multiple trips to the salad bar. Once it appeared we were done with salads, our main courses came.

There were delicious and filling. For me, there’s something about slow cooked tagines, with dried fruit, nuts, spices, herbs and meat that is irresistible. Finishing our mains, we headed to the desert table. Oh my. There were at least 40 different deserts as well as cut up fresh fruit. How could you try all of them? I settled on a number of them as well as baklava. We certainly left full and satisfied. 

Saturday November 9, 2024

We started with an early morning walk around Bordeaux. Not much was open at 9AM. Even most coffee shops were closed. We had the place almost to ourselves. In the afternoon, we took a wine tasting excursion to Saint Emillion. 

Over looking the wine region of St. Emillion.

Ahhhh, wine in France. It is almost a religion. In fact, during the Middle Ages, we learned Abbey’s had to welcome pilgrims with wine. Maybe that makes up for the lack of plumbing  We headed out on our tour and drove the hour to St. Emillion. There, we had tour of the town and then some time on our own. It seemed logical to do a tasting on our own which we did.

Then the tour took us to an estate where we toured the facilities and learned about their process. Then…you guessed it…we did a wine tasting on the estate. We sampled two of their house made wines. 

This tour was really well done. It was put on by the Bordeaux tourist centre. As a half day tour (13:30 – 18:30) it was great time wise and you really didn’t need much more. Returning home, we picked up some take-away food and ate a relaxing meal in our apartment. 

Sunday November 10, 2024

Enjoying wine, overlooking Bordeaux. Enjoying is the key!

Fresh off our wine tour, we decided to learn more about this delightful drink. We headed over to the Cite du Vin centre. It is advertised as a place where you can “Embark on an interactive and sensory experience”. They were accurate on that. We spent over four hours there (the suggested time is one hour). There were displays on grapes, the wine regions of France as well as other wine areas. They highlighted food and wine pairing. Displays on the history of wine, from the Pharos to the Middle Ages to today. The audio guide was in various languages, so we understood everything. At the end you travelled up to the eighth floor where you had a tasting of a wine of your choice enjoyed with a panoramic view of the historic city of Bordeaux and the river.

Dinner that night was a local restaurant that we found online, despite being the off-season, reservations were essential. As we arrived, we noticed the sign out front said ‘complete’ (full in English). We had a scrumptious three course meal that left us very full. Walking back to our apartment, under a ¼ moon, we were certainly enjoying our time in Bordeaux. 

Monday November 11, 2024

We marked today with reflection of what November 11th means. About half of the business were closed today. Bordeaux, like all of France was occupied during the war. After liberation, things started to return to normal, including the production of wine. 

We then headed to the river to take a scenic cruise along the Garonne River. Being France, the cruise came with a glass of wine, which was most welcome on a cool windy day. Sailing down river towards the Atlantic Ocean, we learned about the buildings, ships and history of the city. The view from the water was quite different than the shore and we enjoyed our tour.

We spent the rest of the day getting ready for our travel to Tours, about two hours away by train.

Tuesday November 12, 2024

We went for a walk in the morning and then we returned to our apartment. The host arrived at 11 and we talked for about 10 minutes and then headed to the train. After the five-minute walk to the tram station, we saw a tram pull up, which was good timing. The tram took us to the train station and, after struggling with ramps, underground passages et al, found our coach. We did not pay to reserve seats, so in the morning, we were assigned seats in a quad group. While we both had windows, we were facing each other. That meant one of us faced backwards. 

As I was tired, Meg took the view seat and I ended up falling asleep during a podcast 

Friday November 15, 2024

The Loire Valley is known for its Chateaus’. There are too many to visit without being “Chateau-ed out”. Reading about the choices, we decided to visit Charmeanu first. It is the quasi essential French Chateau. It’s on the river, has the classic arches you see in post cards, large grounds and of course, history.

Chateau Amboise, a classic view.

We had looked at buying tickets online as there was notations on some websites they sell out some times. There are blocks of 70 tickets for sale, every 15-minute has a block. The first block, for 9:45 had 66 tickets left. There were 70 tickets for each block after that until 14:30 when there were only 65 tickets. Considering the time of year, we didn’t see the need to pre book.

As we arrived, we walked down the main street leading to the Chateau and there was not a sole in sight. This made for excellent pictures. Given that there would likely be more people later in the day, we raced through the Chateau to get pictures without others in the background. As we finished our first pass of the Chateau, a tour bus pulled up and there were a few more people about. 

Every Chateau has an in-depth history

Taking an in-depth look, we discovered and learned a lot. This Chateau, which is on the river, played a essential role during WWII. The river was the line of demarcation between Vichy and Free France. The Resistance used the Grand Hall of Chateau, which was an enclosed bridge that crossed the river, as a way of moving equipment across. Of course, this had risks and some were caught. 

The bridge that was used for banquets in the 1700’s and to assist the Resistance during the war

During Great War, the Chateau’s owner, at his own cost, converted the Grand Hall to a hospital. There, the injured were treated and convalesced. By the end of the war, some 2,600 soldiers had been treated there.

There were a number of paintings and tapestries. Most of these were originals and, surprisingly, they were, for the most part, not behind glass. Some of the tapestries had seen better days, however being 300 – 800 years old, that is understandable. Tapestries were mobile art back in the day. When the Royal court moved, the tapestries moved with them. They would then be hung up on the wall of the temporary lodging, be it a Chateau or other suitable place. Then, when the group moved on, they were taken down, packed in cabinets, and moved to the next location. 

The Chateau also had vines in various places. This is France of course and that means wine. Today there is still a small winery on the grounds. As any good winery would have it, they offered tastings. The tasting were done in the cave, which has been storing wine since the 1600’s. All three of the selections, rose, white and red were wonderful.

Saturday November 16, 2024

Today was a planned down day. Laundry, walking, talking and taking it easy were the aims of today. Window shopping as well as visiting stores to take in the local scene. A long walk along the river gave us the view of the Loire that great. 

Sunday November 17, 2024

Our plan for today was to visit Amboise Chateau, the local chateau. This residence is not actually on the water, it’s a bit up from the river. The elevated height gives it a commanding view of the river in both directions. All the better for collecting tolls back in the day. Remember, there are only two things that are certain in life, taxes being one of them. As we bought our tickets, we asked the clerk how busy the Chateau was. He told us that he had only sold six other tickets that morning. 

As we entered the Chateau, the ‘Keep’ or entry room, had a roaring fire going. This was very welcome as it was an unseasonably cold day with clouds. The Chateau was very well done, and although it was the smallest of the three grounds we visited in the Lorie valley, it was charming. All of the rooms we visited were done up in period. There was furniture and displays. We were provided with an iPad that allowed you to virtually see the room as it was in either the 1500’s or 1800’s, depending on which room. 

Technology meets history with interactive iPads.

Once inside the room, with the iPad activated, there were characters who provided further information on the meaning of the room. Back in the day, the Chateau owner held meetings, banquets, et al. Of course, no one wanted to be outdone, so the banquets were grand affairs. 

On the exterior terraces, we were fortunate enough to get a burst of sun for some pictures. In the distance we noted an open-air market, which we thought would be a good place for lunch. Heading down the equivalent of about five or six flights of stairs, we were back into the city. 

Meg with the Chateau Amboise in the background

Once outside, we headed home for to warm up and then off to the market. Similar to other markets in France, this one ended at 13:00, which was the time we arrived. There were still some merchants selling, but most were packing up. Despite this, we managed to get some treats and vin-a-chaud to warm us up. 

For dinner, we disagreed on where to eat. In the end we decided to have a tagine as it was still cold. Regrettably, despite the restaurant’s positive reviews, this was likely the worst meal we had. Not only in France, but on our entire trip. Bland chicken with about 40 olives and one small piece of potato. We skipped desert and headed home, knowing you can’t always hit a home run.

Monday November 18, 2024

I headed out at 8 AM to find some baked goods for our breakfast. Similar to the restaurants, most bakeries were closed on Monday. I passed one that was open, however, based on reviews, I had been trying to avoid it. After walking around the small town for 20-minutes, I gave up and went to the poorly rated one. 

For the record, this bakery was rated 2.4/5 on Google, which is pretty low. Reading the comments, most people said the food and pastries were good, but the service was horrible. The reviews were 100% accurate. I would call the middle-aged lady who was working there “Grumpy-puss”. She was so dour. I purchased our pain-au-raisins and bolted. 

We headed off for Chateau Chambord, the largest chateau in the region. The drive was about 55-minutes on pleasant rural French roads, with very little traffic. Similar to other Chateaus’, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. While there were people around, most times, if you waited a minute or so, you could have the room to yourself. 

We spent 3 ½ hours touring the Chateau. There were a number of highlights. The double helix staircase in the centre of the chateau was interesting. To truly see it work, Meg went up one set of stairs and I went up the other. There were windows every few steps and we waved at each other as we climbed up the levels. 

Art is alway appreciated in France

Another highlight was two paintings by Botticelli. Now I do not profess to be an expert on art, nor do I know “who’s who” in the art world. That said, both paintings were of the Virgin Mary holding a young Jesus, who was reaching out to a young John the Baptist. They didn’t do it for me, however I can say I’ve seen them.

We returned to Amboise, where we warmed up our pizza we had bought the night before. Since most places were closed on Monday, we ordered a takeaway pie night before. The pizza warmed up was amazing. We could only imagine how heavenly it would have been had we eaten it fresh. It was one of the best thin crust pizzas’ I’ve ever eaten.

Fortunately, we ordered a large pizza, and that, along with fresh baguette with cheese, was a great dinner that evening. I don’t think I needed to mention the French wine… And that, was our time in Amboise. A delightful town, however heavily geared towards tourists. 

Thanks for reading, feel free to leave any comments or reach out through the contact page below.

Spain Part II

Saturday November 2nd, 2024

Travelling by bus from Pamplona to Bilboa, we had to change buses in San Sebastian. The bus terminal there is total chaos, but in an organized way. Buses pull in and passengers get off. Within 15 minutes, a new load of passengers gets on and the bus takes off. As we travelled along the highway, I managed to get some work done and Meg looked out the window. 

Arriving in Bilboa, we walked the 10 minutes to our hotel and were happy with the room assignment. A large room with two large bay windows overlooking a park and the theater. Exploring on foot, we wandered along the river to the Guggenheim Museum and found “The Spider”. For those who are unaware, there are a number of huge spider statues throughout the world. Some are permanent and some are rotating. We’ve seen three of the permanent ones. Ottawa, Tokyo and now Bilboa. There is one in Doha, Qatar, that we somehow missed when we were there in January. I guess it’s a reason to go back. 

Bilboa from there top of the town

Needing a break from restaurants, crowds and noise, we ordered take-away for dinner and ate in our room. Having the window open with warm air flowing in was delightful. We listened to the music from the park and the general happiness of the warm night. It was certainly not gourmet, but it was just what we needed. 

Sunday November 3rd, 2024

Bilboa was a hold out during the Civil war and some of the fighting took place on “the hill”. There is a funicular up the hill and we decided to get to it early. Going up at 8:30, we were the only people in our car. No one got in the way of our selfies! Once at the top, we saw Bilboa from above and watched the city come to life as the sun creeped over the mountains. 

After exploring the mountain top, we returned down and found a pastry shop for breakfast. Then we wandered the town and enjoyed the overall atmosphere.

Later in the day, towards sunset, we returned to the funicular and headed back up the mountain to see it during golden hour. It was neat to see the sun fade and all the lights come on. 

Monday November 4, 2024

An empty square in San Sebastián at 4 PM – travelling off season has benefits!

We left Bilboa and headed to the famous San Sebastian. While the bus ride was only an hour, we enjoyed travelling along the coast line, seeing numerous villages. Once in San Sebastian, we settled into our apartment and headed out to explore. 

We were only a two-minute walk to the boardwalk and beach where we could see the Bay of Biscay, green trees covering the local hills and wonderful architecture. 

Tuesday November 5, 2024

Our first full day in San Sebastian and we had lucked out with the weather. The high was forecast at 24C, 7C above normal and not a cloud in the sky. We did a walking tour to learn what about the area and history. This was one of the best walking tours we have ever taken. 

Discussions about the Spanish Royal family, the history of the Basques, the Civil war were all intriguing. The Basques have a distinct identity. Not Spanish and not French. They are Basques -and proud of it. During the years of Franco, the culture was repressed and speaking the Basque language was an automatic execution. Things have improved since then. 

The Basques have always been excellent sailors. They also know their way around the kitchen, as is evidenced by the great restaurants and pinchos you find on every corner.

When our tour was over, we found some recommended pinchos, away from the tourist area. Then, I headed to the beach for a swim. The water was “refreshing”, but in a good way. It is pretty impressive to be swimming in the Atlantic Ocean on Nov 5th in northern Spain. While the water was not as warm as I might have liked, I certainly was not the only one swimming. 

Wednesday November 6, 2024

We were up early today and after taking pictures of the high tide, headed out on a hike. Urgull 

San Sebastián at sunrise – empty beach in early Nov, but still warm enough to swim!

Hill was the highest point and main fortification of San Sebastian back in the 1500’s. There are still cannons, and old walls on the mountain. Climbing up, we got amazing views of the harbour and two of the beaches. 

Later in the afternoon, we headed out on another pincho run. This time to a cider house. Basque cider is unique. It’s not carbonated, so they have developed a trick. The bartender took our glasses and held them about 6’ from a huge barrel of cider. Then he opened a small spigot and let the cider come flying out into the glass. Hitting the glass, the cider “foamed” up, giving it a hint of bubbles. The glasses are not filled very high, necessitating frequent visits to the bar where gossip is exchanged. It works for them. 

Thursday November 7, 2024

We ventured to Getaria today. It’s a small town, about an hour from San Sebastián. There are local buses that run on a regular schedule between all the cities in the Basque area. We tried to use our Bilbao transit card, but it would not work, despite the web page saying it would. 

When we arrived, we headed into the town and were impressed by the huge church. Then we explored the town, which didn’t really have much to it. Deciding to get a better view, we hiked up the local hill where we saw great views. In the distance we could see some of San Sebastian’s buildings as well as the Atlantic Ocean. 

Returning down the hill, we stopped for a pastry on the main street and watched life go by. The locals certainly have their routines. Since we did not bring our swimsuits, we were not able to take advantage of the beach and we headed back to San Sebastián. 

Friday November 8, 2024

A Spanish cork tree.

This was our last morning in San Sebastián and I headed out for an early morning walk to the palace and gardens. The city was just waking up and there were the customary lines at coffee and pastry shops. The promenade was busy with early morning walkers and joggers and I found the beach almost totally deserted. 

Walking along the beach, I made my way to the gardens. As it was November, there were not really any flowers, mostly grassy lawns with bare earth patches where flowers likely are in season. There were a number of signs about the palace, the Royal Family et al. The building is now a city asset and used for the film festival in September, as well as other official events.

On to France!

We made our way to the local train station and then took a commuter train from San Sebastián to Hendaye France. It was a 35-minute train ride and once we arrived, we found the French train station, only 200 metres away. Our Henday – Bordeaux train was showing on time, departing in one-hour. We found a park bench and had our picnic lunch in the noon time sun.  

Our thoughts on Spain, this time…

Several people had told us not to judge Spain based only on Barcelona – which we don’t particularly care for. (Much as Canada shouldn’t be judged based only on Toronto). We are so glad that we took their advice and explored a different area.  We would love to return to the Basque country, but there are also so many other areas of Spain to explore.  The bucket list only seems to grow!

Thanks for reading. We’ll post about France shortly.

If you have any comments, please feel free to use the form below or send us an email.

Cam and Meg

Spanish Travels Part I

Monday October 21, 2024

Arriving in Madrid, we cleared immigration and retrieved our luggage. We had a taxi arranged to take us to our pension (hotel). Checking in after arriving, we were disappointed to find out how small the room was and even more disappointed to see the size of the bed. It was certainly not a double. False advertising on the web page….grrrrrr.

A square in Madrid at sunset.

Leaving our bags in our room, we set out to explore and found neat things here and there. Spain is all about Tapas and Sangria. We wasted no time in finding a bar that served them. Although Madrid is touristy, the area we stayed in was not really a tourist area. There were a lot of locals and we ordered three dishes which turned out to be way too much (Spanish lesson #1 – “raciones” are not tapas size!). Of course there was wine to help it down. 

Wandering around the town, we marvelled at the night life and how it seemed to be a party. 

Tuesday October 22, 2024

Our pension (hotel) did not provide breakfast, so we headed out to find a local eatery. The coffee everywhere is excellent and the pastries were on par with France. We took a walking tour and learned a lot about the history and people of both Spain and Madrid. 

For lunch, we found a new snack, pinchos. These are similar to tapas, but smaller. A tray of eight delicious snacks, with vino tinto, seated outside in an open square, was a delightful lunch.

An assortment of Pinchos

Wednesday October 23, 2024

Our tour guide from the previous day suggested the nearby city of Toledo as a place to visit for a day trip. There are coaches running as often as every 15 minutes depending on the time of day. You just buy a ticket and get in line. When there’s room, you get on.

The drive is about an hour and once in town, we took a taxi to the centro. It was about a 30-minute walk, but it was all uphill, so a taxi made sense to us. Once there, we found a “jamon” place. There were only about 75 of them to choose from. 

Jamon, of course, is ham in English. It is an art form here in Spain. The various jamon places will finely shave the jamon and put it on a very fresh baguette or bun. You can request cheese as well. Interestingly, I never saw any mustard offered. That’s fine for me as I have a minor intolerance to mustard, but I’m sure many folks would have wanted it. The jamon was wonderful and did not need any accompaniments, other than cheese. 

Touring Toledo

Another walking tour followed, where we learned about the history of Toledo. There were battles, attacks and history. Toledo became the capital at one time, only to lose that title a few years later to Madrid.

The view from the top of the Church Spires in Toledo

When the tour was over, we doubled back to the Jesuit church where we were able to climb up the bell tower. It was a long climb but we were rewarded with stunning views of the city and countryside. Knowing there would be a queue for the bus back to Madrid, we decided to have a late lunch/early dinner in a traditional restaurant. The owner was gracious and our three-course meal was accompanied with local Rioja wine. 

With our late lunch finished, we wandered the town and marveled at the similarities to Sienna Italy. In Sienna, tourists, mostly from Florence, flock to town for the day. Inside the city walls, it becomes almost too crowded. Toledo was not really different and the non-stop buses from Madrid validated that. We certainly enjoyed the town more once most day-trippers had fled. If we were to come back, we would likely spend a few nights in Toledo, and perhaps day-trip into Madrid.  

Interestingly, most of the tourists were Spanish. Our walking tour was the only one, of about 25, that was in English. The rest were in Spanish.

Retuning to Madrid, we wandered around the congested city and reaffirmed our preference for smaller, quainter cities.

Thursday October 24, 2024

Today was a lighter day, in preparation for our big evening Flamenco show. There are a number of places putting on Flamenco shows. Each claims to be the most authentic. We chose the one we went to on reviews and ratings.

We were given a choice of drink at the show. Being in Spain, Sangria seemed like a natural choice. We were then led downstairs to a three-row theater with about 50 chairs. As it was open seating, we sat in the front row. Our guide gave us a 15-minute lecture on the history of Flamenco, the migration of people and instruments. Then the show.

Flamenco Dancers on the stage in the underground theater/cave.

I did not know what to expect. In the end, I was blown away. I might describe it as a cross between figure skating and tap dancing. By the end of the show, the dancers were sweating from their hard work. Their feet moved so fast you could not keep track, and all in time. It was certainly a great show. We then found a nice restaurant and had a relaxing dinner. 

Friday October 25, 2024

Leaving Madrid, we took a four-hour bus ride to Logroño, our next Spanish stop. The buses in Spain are highly efficient and very cost friendly. I’m not sure why I picked Logroño as a place to visit, but I’m really glad I did. When we arrived at our apartment, we were blown away by the size, especially after Madrid. The building was close to 200 years old. There were exposed wooden beams and brickwork. We had a small balcony, which overlooked both the Cathedral and the main piazza. That night for dinner, we cooked in the apartment and ate on the balcony, watching the comings and goings and a bit of tomfoolery. 

Dinner overlooking the main piazza in Logrono – wonderful.

Saturday October 26th, 2024

We were not able to find an English walking tour in Logroño, so we improvised. Reading multiple blogs, we crafted a plan and then went to the Tourist Information (TI) centre for further ideas. The TI was most helpful and offered a number of places to visit.  The host highlighted the history of wine and suggested a number of wine related places to visit. 

Wine in the cellars of Logrono – I’m sure it was great!

We started with the history of wine in Logroño. How the city had so many wineries and did a booming trade in wine was fascinating. As you might expect, a lot of the wine was sold “out the back door” to locals. People have been lining their pockets forever. Exploring more, we saw parks, rivers and parts of the Camino trail. There are a number of hostels in town that cater to pilgrims who do the walk. We were fortunate to be able to walk a portion of the trail.

A “Pincho walking tour”

A Pincho walking tour

As evening came, we prepared for our pincho tour. Normally we try to do an organized tour, but in this case, the tours were all starting at €150 and going up from there – and usually in Spanish. We looked at what you got and decided we would do a “self-tour”. There were a number of suggestions and we simply followed our noses. For just over $60 CAD, we were able to have some amazing pinchos’ accompanied by various wines. This also included a stop at a wine bar where we were able to try a local wine along with some local queso (cheese). 

We could not have been happier with our evening. We looked like locals as we bellied up to the bar, pointed to our selection and then added “dos vino tinto”. The host would gather our items as I pulled out my credit card. I then tapped and we munched. The food was so good. Each place had a speciality as well as other choices. You don’t go to one place, but to a few bars. The locals, when they go out, toss money to one person. That is the “orderer” and that person goes and deals with the hostess. 

Wall to wall people, all having fun eating, drinking and laughing.

We did our tour on a Saturday night and it was PACKED. We knew it would be busy and we did start early. The picture of the street shows absolute chaos, but in a good way. 

Sunday October 27, 2024

After a long pincho night, we wanted to know more about the wine they were serving us. A tour of a winery made sense. Over the years, we have likely toured more than 30 wineries. When I saw there was a winery in the centre of Logroño, I was intrigued. Arizcuren Bodega & Viñedos is a small winery producing 25,000 bottles/year. However, they do it the “old way”. Grapes are brought down from the mountain and processed in the city. This is what they did 100’s of years ago and Arizcuren is trying to bring this back. 

A city wine tour – unique but so worth while.

Having been in some of France’s most exclusive wineries, Arizcuren really struck a chord with me. The winery consists of:

Four staff (not a type-o). 

True passion. 

100% commitment. 

Wine tasting at Arizcure winery in Logrono – excellent tour and product.

From crushing grapes, to aging in oak casks, to hand corking each bottle. Yup, hand corking 25,000 bottles/year. In Canada, their wines are only sold in Ontario and Quebec. If you are able to sample them, I don’t think you would be disappointed. 

The tour provided generous samples. Due to the popularity, we could only get in for the 10:30 tour. As they say, you can’t drink all day if you don’t start early. Here is their website if you are ever in Logrono. https://www.arizcurenvinos.com/en/ Feeling the effects of the wine after our tour, we walked around and exploring some local parks and monuments.

Later in the evening, we saw a huge bonfire. It is the end of the harvest and a few weeks ago there was competition of floats. The best float is selected and it gets to be burned. I’m not sure what happens to the others. Before the fire, there are fireworks and then, under the supervision of firefighters, the float is torched. To me, it is a bit counter-intuitive to win and have your float burned, but who am I to question local customs?

Did someone say Pinchos?

Monday October 28, 2024

As it was our last day, we took it easy today and decided to visit some of the sites we enjoyed. In the evening, we did a modified pincho run, stopping at only two places, but we were richly rewarded.

Ireland Part II

Monday October 14th, 2024

After buying Cam’s Aran Island sweater, we took a roundabout route to Donegal. We lunched in the town of Westport and were very glad we did. It had been cloudy all morning. Our weather luck continued to hold as the clouds broke and sun came out as we pulled into town. Finding a park bench by the canal, we ate our picnic in the sunshine and then met a very famous Bear. 

Sitting with Paddington Bear in Westport Ireland

Westport had been chosen as one of 23 towns to get a Paddington Bear bench with a statue of Paddington on it. Other towns included Paddington Station in London, Dublin and other centres. The bench, with Paddington sitting on it, had been installed that day. We were among the first to get our picture with him, complete with his marmalade sandwich!

It was then off to our hotel for the night, Locke Eske Castle. This was truly a castle that had been restored and was now a five-star hotel. Pulling up, we were greeted by staff who took our bags, parked our car and showed us to our 500 square foot room. The building, the facilities, the bed, the bathroom were all first rate. We were offered a chance to dine in the main dining room, but we thought the €150/pp price tag was a bit much.

Locke Eske Castle – our home for our Anniversary

Hoping on a bike, I headed down to the lake and toured the local area. We popped into town for dinner and a pint before coming back. The bed was comfortable and we managed to sleep in to 8:00 AM.

Tuesday October 15th, 2024

Today was our anniversary. We are both so proud of ourselves for making it to 36 years, which was part of the splurge for the castle. Breakfast was a feast to behold. There was a menu with the usual suspects including eggs benedict, made different ways such as traditional, salmon, vegan, etc. To the side was a buffet with a full ham and omelets made to order. As much fresh fruit, cheese and cold cuts as you could imagine were also there. It was a wonderful brunch for our anniversary. 

Donegal Castle

Heading into town, we visited Donegal castle and did a tour. Fascinating history of building, raiding, burning and rebuilding. The town is not really a tourist town and the shops did not sell the typical magnets and t-shirts. We did manage to see a weaver using a 150-year-old loom to make fabric. That store had some of the nicest sweaters I had seen and I was sorry I had already bought one.

When we arrived back at our castle, we did a hike around the grounds and then celebrated our anniversary with a bottle of prosecco, which was followed by another bottle that the hotel provided us for our special day. One of the nicest things about prosecco, at least for us, is that we do not get hangovers! We had a light dinner and then lounged in the “great room” in front of a roaring fire that Cam tended.

Wednesday October 16th, 2024

Departing the castle after another huge breakfast, we headed into Northern Ireland and the town of Derry or Londonderry. After checking into our BnB, we went to the heart of town and did a walking tour. Learning of the “Troubles”, the medieval walls and the role Derry played in WWII. It was a really well done tour. 

Although it seem a bit sacrilegious while in Ireland, we had dinner at the Spaghetti Junction. A highly rated local Italian place that was recommended by our B&B. It did not disappoint. Then we entered a pub where we ended up being kidnapped.

A True Irish Pub

Pedar O’Donnells is a pub that is written up in many books and was recommended by our host. They play live music nightly and tonight it was traditional or “Trad” music. We were lucky enough to find a table for two and after a bit started talking to the couple next to us. They were Scottish and she was there on business. Then, without warning, she got up and left, returning a few minutes later with a beer for everyone and four shots of tequila. Ummmm….what?

Kidnapped by Scott’s in an Irish Pub!

We thought it would be rude to say no, so we snapped it back and drank the beer. As we were chatting, the couple on the other side heard our new friends talking. It turns out they were also Scottish. Here’s where we were kidnapped. The new lady did a disappearing act and came back with beers for everyone. Being by far the oldest of the group, we wondered how this would end. The music was louder and everyone was drinking and laughing. A while later, Meg managed to pull a disappearing act and returned with drinks for everyone. 

At midnight, we said our goodbyes and managed to escape from our good-natured capturers, all of whom now have a great opinion of Canada. I mentioned earlier that prosecco does not give hangovers. Tequila and beer is a different story…especially at our age. 

Thursday October 17th, 2024

The Derry Girls – youngsters living during the Troubles.

After a slow start, we wandered into town, capturing a picture of the Derry Girls mural. Even though we had never seen the show, it seemed the right thing to do. Touring the Tower Museum, we learned more about the Derry Girls as well as the city. There is a fascinating past. 

A quiet dinner in the B&B and then back to a pub. Although we looked into some other pubs, the only one with music was O’Donnells. As our Scottish friends had all headed back to Scotland, we knew they could not kidnap us again . The music was more of the rebel song variety and the crowd was not as ‘into it’ as the night before.

Friday October 18th, 2024

Heading down to Athlone, we encountered our first real rain. That did not stop us from visiting two historical sites. The Beltway circle is a Henge, similar to Stonehenge, but with smaller stones. The signs estimate it was built about 2,000 – 1,500 years ago. Somehow, these ancient people knew how to line things up as the winter solstice rises through two particular stones. I find it amazing that, without computers or written records, they could know where the sun would rise. Even more amazing, how often could they see the sun actually rise, versus being blocked by clouds? Ireland is green for a reason: it rains a lot!

Arriving at Athlone, we checked into a nice B&B and then wandered the town, walking along the Shannon River. We found a brewpub for dinner which, unfortunately, was likely the worst brewpub we have ever visited. A completely uninspiring beer menu and limited food. You can’t win them all.

Saturday October 19th, 2024

Clonmacnoise – a well preserved religious site.

Rising early, we left our B&B, where breakfast was not provided unless you paid an additional €15/pp, and we visited Clonmacnoise. This was probably the best ruins we visited. It is managed by the Office of Public Works (OPW) and there were videos, signs and handouts to guide you. The original site was dated from 556 AD and rests on the Shannon River. Over the years it was continually raided by Vikings, Irish and English. It was abandoned in the 1500’s by decree of King Henry VIII when he did away with all the monasteries. 

It is in good condition and was well worth seeing, the brilliant sunshine was an added bonus. This was followed by lunch and a hike. Our evening had us dine in a local pub and then call it an early night. 

Sunday October 20, 2024

We headed into Dublin and after checking into our B&B, we set out for our tour of the Guinness Storehouse, or brewery. It was a self-guided tour and a bit pricy for what you got. Us being us, took way longer than suggested. The tour ended up on the 7th floor where there were sweeping views of the city. A pint of Guinness was part of the package. 

Sampling a Guinness.

Dinner was next at a revered restaurant in the Temple Bar area. I had made reservations and we were able to pass a number of folks who were waiting for a table. As it was our last night in Ireland, we both had Guinness stew, which filled us up. We were glad for the 30-minute walk back to let dinner settle. 

Monday October 21, 2024

We returned our rental car and almost ran into a problem. There was a slight nick in the passenger tire and the first clerk said it would require a damage report. I balked and she got her supervisor who told her no, it was not reportable. 

Checking in for our flight on Iberia Express, a budget airline, we departed a bit late for Madrid and started our Spanish adventure.

I’ll post more about Spain at a later date.

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Cam and Meg