I’m standing on top of a cliff next to a 3,000-year-old tomb (well, more of a carved-out hole in the rock). Below me, a digger is working on a new coastal road.
Almost midnight on a Saturday evening, and I’m beginning to wonder whether the mythical Spanish nightlife is just that – a myth. It’s just me and the barman in the small, u
As pilgrimages go, this wasn’t in the big league. More of a sidetrack really – which was fortunate, because things weren’t going too well.
You can’t mistake a tea plantation for anything else: all those neat rows of gleaming, bright green bushes, kept at the right height and combed every day for the ‘two l
I’m sitting on a mountain, watching a steady stream of walkers puff past and thinking – despite the possibilities of getting soaked, the probabilities of poor sleeping
It doesn’t matter what time of day you visit the Alhambra, there are always people gazing from the ramparts of the old fortress towards the city of Granada, which unfolds bef