15.10.2021
Granada Day Two: Boomerangs, Bullfights, and the Spirit of Flamenco
Yesterday I saw the most important sights in Granada. But due to COVID, many of the guided tours were cancelled—including the Olive Oil Tours and the Alpujarra trip (a scenic area near the Sierra Nevada mountain range). So, I decided to explore the town even more closely on my own.
The Bullring and a Bit of Bad Luck
I headed for the Plaza de Toros, Granada's famous bullfighting arena. Unfortunately, it was closed. Bad luck again! So I wandered around and visited some churches and a monastery instead. Meanwhile, my phone's memory card reached full capacity (a true tragedy for any modern tourist), so I returned to my hotel to swap it out. Then I set off again—this time for the fabled Albayzín.
Into the Heart of Moorish Granada: Albayzín and Sacromonte
Albayzín is Granada's old Moorish quarter. Before the Reconquista, this is where the ordinary Moorish people lived. The houses are all whitewashed, and their layout is fascinating—they're scattered along the hillside, with some even built into caves (very reminiscent of Cappadocia in Turkey).
I made my way up to Sacromonte, where there are many cave houses and venues for Flamenco dance. It's a bit of a hike to reach, and most performances start at 9:30 p.m. and go on until around 11:30 p.m. But as per Lonely Planet, it's not considered safe to be out there so late. Muggings have happened. The area is practically deserted at night—and even during the day, it feels a bit empty. I noticed many Arabic people living in the area. Given all this, I dropped the idea of staying in Sacromonte that late.
Serendipity at the Base of Albayzín
While descending from Albayzín, I stumbled upon a venue at its base offering Flamenco shows at 17 Euros. I decided to catch a performance there instead.
Later, as I was walking back, I happened to read in my Lonely Planet guide about a place called Mirador San Nicolás. It's a viewpoint with a small church, and it offers one of the most breathtaking views of the Alhambra, perched majestically across the hill. When I got there, I saw many people waiting patiently for the sunset and the panoramic view. I would have completely missed it had I not read about it at the last minute. As the sun dipped behind the Sierra Nevada, some Arabic musicians began singing "Habibi" from this Moorish perch. There was a little café there too. Magical.
Flamenco in the Plaza
Before the Flamenco show began, I had to buy some boomerangs (yes, you read that right) from the nearby market. I dashed off to grab them. On my way to the market, I stumbled upon a small plaza where 3 young men and 2 women were doing an impromptu Flamenco performance: one guy sang, another played the guitar, a third danced, and the women joined in. A huge crowd had gathered to watch.
On my way back from the market, I saw another group doing the same—singing and dancing Flamenco in the open street. So yes, even if you don't want to pay for a show, just hang around this area long enough, and you're bound to catch a free one.
The Flamenco Show Proper
The venue I chose was recommended by TripAdvisor. I arrived a bit early to grab a front seat. The dance took place on a special wooden floor made just for Flamenco. On the streets, dancers usually carry their own wooden plank to perform on. The entire performance was one hour long.
One of the acts even depicted the Reconquista by Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand through Flamenco. The music felt quite Arabic in style. The whole performance was lively and full of soul—I really enjoyed it.
A classic example - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm9IYSDxagc
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBpUhj-YIAo
Tapa Time and Sweet Surprises
Today, I went to another tapas bar where I paid 8 Euros for a "combinado" (combination plate) of six tapas items of my choice. They even served sweet red wine, which I thoroughly enjoyed.
Back at the hotel, I ran into the Moroccan guy who works there. We chatted for a while. He's quite friendly.
Tomorrow morning, I'll be taking the train to my next destination.
Granada—you've been charming, musical, and just the right amount of unpredictable.
16.10.2021
Ronda: Bulls, Bridges & Bathhouses – Spain’s Hidden Drama Unfolds
I reached Ronda at exactly 11:00 am, having changed trains at Antequera Santa Maria. Since check-in at the hotel wasn’t until 2:00 pm, I left my luggage there and set off to explore the city right away—because what’s the point of waiting when the spirit of bullfighting and ancient architecture is calling?
Plaza de Toros: Where the Bulls Once Danced
My first stop was the Plaza de Toros. “Toro” means bull, and Ronda is considered the birthplace of modern bullfighting—some even call it its spiritual capital. Built in 1785, this bullring no longer hosts fights, but its historical significance remains unshaken. Today, it's used for major public functions and stands as a museum to a tradition that's both celebrated and contested.
What I learnt inside was fascinating: bullfighting didn’t start as a sport—it began as a game. The Moors, under attack, were ordered by their king to maintain horses. The Spanish horse soon became world-famous for its breed, largely due to King Philip in the 16th century, who declared that anyone with power must also own and maintain horses properly. He promoted horse breeding and training. In fact, Ronda is home to the second-oldest equestrian school in the world—beaten only by one in Austria.
Interestingly, in early bullfights, matadors fought on horseback, not on foot. That dramatic solo dance with a cape is a relatively new invention.
Even the Assyrians had a version of bullfighting. Over time, the tradition evolved, and legends like Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles became huge fans. Their statues now stand proudly in Ronda, celebrating this age-old spectacle. The city proudly projects its identity through bullfighting—posters, pictures, and the very soul of the town seem to be in sync with the bull’s roar.
The museum inside the bullring was excellent. There were videos on horse training, bull rearing, and the full historical journey of the bullfight. There were also still photo exhibits and posters, including the very first advertisement for a bullfight.
Fun fact: Bullfighting is now banned in Barcelona due to public protests, but it still takes place in Madrid and, of course, in southern Spain—the true heartland of this tradition.Major bullfights are often held on October 12th to celebrate Spain's National Day, marking one of the final events of the bullfighting season
Also, a little twist of irony: while bulls bred for bullfighting are allowed to roam freely for three years, the ones destined for beef are kept in captivity. Bullfighting supporters often argue that at least their bulls get to live freely before the final dance.
One noble tradition: if a matador dies in the ring, the bull is freed forever—an odd but touching gesture of respect.
The Legendary Bridge: Puente Nuevo
After soaking in enough bull culture, I walked to the city's most famous landmark—the Puente Nuevo (New Bridge). Though the name says “new,” it took 40 years to build and was completed in the 18th century. It spans the El Tajo Gorge, which slices Ronda into two halves—the old town and the... even older town, I suppose. My hotel was technically in the “new” part, but let’s be honest—everything here looks ancient.
The bridge rises a jaw-dropping 120 meters (about 360 feet) above the river below. From here, you can see the gorge, the whitewashed houses clinging to cliff edges, and Spain in all its drama.
Moors, Conquests & Water Wars
I then visited the Santa Maria la Mayor Church, which, as with many churches in Spain, was originally a mosque. During the Reconquista, the Catholic Monarchs slowly recaptured southern Spain from the Moors.
If I were to translate it into Indian geography, imagine only Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and Karnataka being left under Mughal rule while the north had already been reconquered by Hindu King. Ronda fell just before Granada, the final Moorish stronghold, was captured in 1492.
The Moors, knowing water is life, had created an ingenious water tunnel (mine) to pull water from the gorge below. Christian slaves were reportedly used to operate this water system. Much like Fatehpur Sikri, which was abandoned by Akbar due to lack of water, Ronda’s conquerors knew that to control the city, they needed to control the water source.
Arab Baths – Or the Hammam of Yore
Next, I visited the Baños Árabes (Arab Baths). The €4.50 entry felt a bit pricey, but I paid it anyway. It was essentially an old Hammam, with three chambers—for hot, cold, and steam baths. The Arabs, who learned this system from the Romans, built these baths in the 13th–14th century. There was a video included with the entry that explained its function and architecture very well.
After that, I returned to Santa Maria la Mayor (again) and then wandered through La Ciudad—the historic Moorish part of the town, full of charming whitewashed houses.
Then came the most exciting bit…
Descent into the Gorge (For Just €8 and a Bit of Risk)
I decided to walk all the way down to the bottom of the gorge. The descent cost me €8 and several nervous thoughts about my fitness. By the time I reached the bottom, it was dusk—the light had softened, the crowds had thinned, and the view was absolutely spectacular. Standing below the mighty bridge, I could see why people come here just for this view.
Ronda has always held a strategic location, which made it crucial during wars and conquests. Most churches and cathedrals here are free to enter, but other historical sites do have higher ticket prices.
When in Ronda, Eat Like a Matador
Now for the gastronomical highlight: I tried the Rabo de Toro—bull tail stew. It was surprisingly soft and flavourful. The dish is a delicacy in southern Spain, traditionally cooked after bullfights. I had mine at a restaurant recommended on TripAdvisor, just down the road from Plaza de Toros. The restaurant had a giant photograph of the bullring hanging proudly inside.
The small portion cost €3.50, and it was quite filling. The large portion was €14, but I didn’t need it. Along the way, I also noticed that fresh orange juice is very popular here, as it was in La Rambla, Barcelona, where I had a cold bottle for just €2.
No Indians Here, Just Global Desis
I hardly saw any Indian tourists here. I did meet a Sikh man from Canada, a Bangladeshi from New Jersey, and a Sri Lankan from New York. Back in Granada, on my last day, I saw a group of young Indians—but we didn’t get a chance to talk. They looked like they were probably in IT. Honestly, in most parts of Europe, Indian tourists are a rare species. That tells you about our economy.
Most of the hotels here follow the Al-Andalus architectural style, adding to the Moorish charm that hangs in the air like an old Flamenco tune.
Tomorrow, I have an early train at 7:58 am—so tonight, it’s early to bed (unless the bull tail gives me too much energy!).
17.10.2021
From Ronda to Seville: Pork, Picasso, and Plaza de Toros
I had breakfast at the Ronda Train station. It was a classic Spanish start: fresh orange juice and a Bocadillo — which, mind you, isn’t your everyday Indian sandwich. In fact, it looked suspiciously like the oval-shaped garlic bread we get in Kolkata cafés, just with more attitude... and ham. Lots of ham. I’d officially entered the “Pork Phase” of my trip.
The place inside the Train station where I had breakfast was so beautifully decorated it could double up as a bullfighting museum. Matador portraits, dramatic bullfight scenes, and even some Picasso artworks — all glorifying the eternal dance between man and beast. Clearly, I wasn’t going to escape bulls anytime soon.
A Slightly Late Train and an Ocean of Olives
Today’s train was a lazy one — about 5–7 minutes late, but nothing to lose sleep over. I changed at Santa María and as we approached Seville, olive plantations spread out endlessly on both sides of the tracks. It looked like someone had poured a green carpet all over Andalusia.
I reached Seville a little after noon. My hotel wasn’t far, so I walked. There was a tourist information centre at the station, and they handed me a map, helpfully circling the hotel like a teacher marking an exam paper.
Seville – Where Hercules Meets Columbus
Seville was love at first sight. I don’t know why Indians don’t talk about it more often — we rave about Rome, Vienna, and London, but Seville? Criminally underrated!
According to folklore, it was founded by Hercules (yes, that Hercules). In the Iberian era, it was already important. Under the Romans, it was called Hispalis. (Not “Hispanic”, that’s modern lingo). The real magic, though, began during the Islamic era.
In the 11th century, it was ruled by the Abbasids, and then by the Almohads in the 12th. But in 1248, King Ferdinand III of Castile took over, and Christianity was back in business.
Then came 1492 — a year every Spanish guidebook screams about — when Columbus set sail and the last remnants of Al-Andalus, centered in Granada, fell in 1492 . Seville was granted a royal monopoly on all trade with the Spanish Empire in the Americas, and the city's port on the Guadalquivir River became the centre of this lucrative commerce. This period, known as the "Golden Age," brought immense wealth to Seville and money started pouring in.
But as fate would have it, a plague in 1649 wiped out half the city, and silting of the Guadalquivir River meant the port became useless. The crown shifted trade operations to Cádiz in 1717. Ah well, easy come, easy go.
Gothic Glory: Seville Cathedral & The Giralda Tower
The Seville Cathedral blew my mind. It was not just massive — it is the largest Gothic cathedral in the world. Constructed between 1434–1517, it took a whopping 83 years to complete. Sadly, it was closed today, but the outside was dramatic enough.
The Giralda, its bell tower, stood like a proud sentinel at 104 metres tall. Originally built as a minaret by the Almohads, it was later converted into a bell tower by Ferdinand’s men in 1248. Very little remains of the original mosque, but this tower is a glorious leftover. It's "said" Columbus is buried here, though historians are still arguing over that one.
The Islamic geometric designs on the Giralda were some of the finest I had seen — an architectural legacy of Spain’s Moorish past. I tried to enter, but the Church was only allowing locals in today. Also, they didn’t seem too pleased about my camera.
Oranges Everywhere (But No One’s Eating Them)
Seville had a love affair with orange trees. They were everywhere. Even in narrow old city lanes, they had managed to sneak in a tree or two. Oranges lay abandoned on the roads like forgotten toys — no one was picking them up!
This reminded me of Morocco, where orange juice is delicious and dirt cheap — about ₹40. Here, the same juice would set you back €2–2.5. (With €1 roughly at ₹86, you do the math.)
Alcázar: Fort of a Thousand Stories
Then I went to the famous Alcázar of Seville — entry fee: €13.5. (Yes, Spain likes its entry fees steep.) The word “Alcázar” means fort, but all I knew before this trip was Alcazar Cabaret in Pattaya!
Turns out, there are many Alcázars across Spain, just like Kremlins in Russia.
The construction of this one began in 913 AD under Muslim rule. Initially, it was known as Al-Mubarak under Abbasid rule. The Almohads expanded it in the 12th century, and in 1248, Ferdinand III captured it and converted it into a royal residence.
Over the centuries, different rulers added their own touches — making it an architectural cocktail. The mix of Gothic, Christian, Moorish, and Mudejar styles was wild, but in the best way possible.
Though Ferdinand III captured it, but King Pedro I of Castile went all out, even hiring craftsmen from the Alhambra in Granada and local artisans. The room Palacio de Don Pedro was an absolute stunner. Some rooms had inscriptions praising Allah; others had Pedro comparing himself to God — yes, just like the Pharaohs. Modesty was clearly not in fashion. This Alcazar and Alhambra Palace in Granada has lot of similarity.
The Royal Bullring and Some Missing Gold
With time to spare, I wandered over to the Plaza de Toros de la Real Maestranza — Seville’s answer to Ronda’s bullring. While Ronda may be the oldest, this one is the most prestigious. Every aspiring matador dreams of performing here.
The Baroque architecture gave the arena a regal vibe. The Guadalquivir River flowed nearby, and there’s even a river cruise — but I didn’t have time for it.
I did, however, see the Torre del Oro — literally, Golden Tower. It’s said the molten gold from the New World (read: looted from the Incas-Peru, Aztecs-Mexcio, and Mayas-Guatemala) was stored here before being whisked off to royal vaults. A concert was going on, so I couldn’t go inside — but even from the outside, it shimmered like a storybook relic.
Santa Cruz, Tiles & Tummy Talk
The Cathedral is located in Santa Cruz Barrio — “Santa” for female saints and “San” for male. This Jewish quarter had narrow, whitewashed lanes reminiscent of Ronda. The entire area was a masterclass in Baroque design.
The tile and plaster work from the Alcázar had clearly inspired the whole city. It reminded me of how Jaipur is inspired by its City Palace — every city here wears its heritage like a proud badge.
Dinner was from a local restaurant that offered a "Combinado" — a fried seafood platter featuring anchovies, gambas (prawns), squid, calamari... all coated in cornflour and fried to crispy perfection. They even served it in a conical paper cup, like our jhalmuri in the local trains!
I also asked for some chilli (pimento) with pollo (chicken). The seafood combo cost me €7.5, and the chicken dish was €3.5. Budget dinner, full stomach, happy tourist.
So I hit the bed dreaming of Pedro, matadors, and jhalmuri fish cones.
18.10.2021
Seville – Day 2: Sauntering, Stamping, and Street Flamenco
I finally had a good night’s sleep after quite some time. It helped that I didn’t have too many activities lined up for the day. Yesterday, I had already covered the major landmarks of Seville. The Cathedral had been closed, and though I could have gone back to see it today, I gave it a royal skip. Why? Well, once you've seen a few Gothic cathedrals, you’ve seen them all—unless it's Gaudí’s surreal church in Barcelona, Niemeyer’s spaceship in Brasília, or that glass marvel in Paris. So I decided to use today to explore the offbeat and the overlooked.
I tried to find the Hospital de los Venerables, but it was nowhere on the map—possibly closed. I also went looking for stamps for my friend Partha. But alas, that place was also closed. I was striking out early today.
Parque de María Luisa and Plaza de España – Ducks and Dancers
Next, I headed to Parque de María Luisa, located in the southern part of the city center. It was a charming park with beautiful greenery and lots of birds—especially ducks. Quite peaceful and refreshing. Right next to it was the majestic Plaza de España.
Plaza de España isn’t just a plaza. It’s practically a monument disguised as government offices. This place turned 100 years old recently and is grander than I had expected. Think of it like our Parliament Bhavan—but curved like a crescent moon. The walls are lined with beautifully painted ceramic tiles representing the coats of arms of every Spanish province (not district!)—each unique and full of local symbolism. There were 48 Spanish provinces at the time of the plaza's construction, excluding only the African cities of Ceuta and Melilla(including the Canary and Balearic Islands). The Plaza de España in Seville features 48 tiled alcoves, each with a bench and a ceramic mural. Each mural represents one of the provinces of Spain . The murals depict a map of the province and a significant historical event, with the province's coat of arms prominently displayed.
I bought two paintings from a Peruvian artist right there. One featured a Matador, and the other a Flamenco dancer (Bailar)—both cliché, yes, but beautifully done. I also picked up a pencil sketch from another street artist. I couldn't resist.
Free Flamenco and Friendly Dancers
Just when I thought things couldn’t get more picturesque, we stumbled into a Flamenco performance right in the Plaza itself. An impromptu street show had started. A girl danced with passion and fire, and I, naturally, recorded the whole thing. She gave me her email — caro.rapinii@gmail.com—to send the video. Yes, we all donated money; no, it wasn’t just because of her email request. The performance was that good.
Here’s a tip: If you don’t want to pay for a Flamenco show, just walk around. You’ll find them on the street. Trust me, the street Flamenco dancers can give the theatre ones a run for their money. The classic Flamenco set-up involves 4 people: a singer, a guitarist, and a dancer duo (usually male and female). And Plaza de España is particularly known for these spontaneous performances.
Take It Slow – Seville Is Not a City to Rush
Since I had time, I decided to slow down and soak it all in. Ideally, you need three days in any city. Day 1 is just for orientation—you’re mostly getting lost and learning street names. Day 2 is when you find your rhythm. Day 3, sadly, is when you leave just when the city starts making sense. But, such is life!
No Bangladeshis or Pakistanis Here! Just Moroccans, Syrians &… Cork Bags
Surprisingly, unlike in Barcelona, I didn’t come across any Bangladeshis or Pakistanis in Seville—or in Ronda or Granada, for that matter. Instead, I met quite a few Arabs and North Africans—Moroccans, Syrians, Lebanese. Makes sense, given the city’s Moorish history. (For the record, Mudejar refers to the Muslims who stayed back in Spain after the Reconquista.)
I met a Moroccan man near Plaza de España and ended up buying a cork bag from him. Cork is quite a big thing here, as I discovered.
Flamenco Dance Museum – The Many Gharanas of Flamenco
My next stop was the Flamenco Dance Museum. Now, finding it was a challenge—the lanes in the old town are so narrow, even Google Maps felt confused. A local SIM card would definitely have made life easier.
Inside the museum, I learnt that Flamenco is not just Spanish—it’s a cultural cocktail. It’s got influences from Caribbean, Oriental, North African, and Afro-Cuban music. A famous Flamenco dancer, Cristina Hoyos, founded this museum.
And just like Indian classical music has Benaras Gharana, Jaipur Gharana, Maihar Gharana, Flamenco too has its own schools or traditions, each with a unique style and expression.
I asked one of the staff why the Flamenco singers didn’t sound like they were singing in Spanish. He explained they were singing in the Andalusian dialect, which sounds very different from Castilian Spanish—with many more Arabic words and intonations. Sometimes it really does sound like you’ve teleported to Morocco or Syria.
Metropol Parasol – Seville’s Giant Mushroom
From there, I went to the Metropol Parasol, also known as Las Setas or The Mushrooms. The architecture is… strange and fascinating. Think of a giant honeycomb-meets-mushroom structure, dropped from outer space into the middle of Seville. It’s very modern and stands in stark contrast to the ancient architecture all around.
Sangria, Salami, and One Too Many Pork Dishes
Lunch today was at a wonderful local chain restaurant. The prices were criminally cheap:
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Coffee: 1 Euro
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Sangria: 1.5 Euro
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Morcilla (blood sausage, similar to the one in Manipur): 1 Euro
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Salami and Salchichón (a kind of Spanish dry sausage)
As usual, I had pork . I even picked up the famous Jamón Ibérico (Iberico ham) for 3.5 Euros. It’s supposed to be legendary, but honestly, I found it overrated. Tried it in multiple places to be sure.
Final Thoughts – The Map to Seville
The old town of Seville is completely walkable. I didn’t take a single bus ride during my stay. The main roads are:
These two run more or less parallel, and they’re connected by Calle San Fernando (Calle means "street"). These 3 roads form a kind of "U" shape. Once you get familiar with this "U," Seville makes perfect sense.
And that’s Seville for you. Grand, historic, musical, and full of unexpected delights. Onto the next city!
19.10.2021
Cádiz – Of Planets, Phoenicians, and Getting Lost Repeatedly
The train to Cádiz was at a painfully early 6:40 a.m., but I managed to catch it. The train station was just under a 15-minute walk from my hotel, which is about the maximum distance one should walk with a half-sleeping brain.
Planetary Weekdays, Spanish Phrases & Language Hacks
Before we go into Cádiz proper, here’s a quick linguistic trivia dump—because I believe language is half the travel.
Did you know the names of weekdays are based on planets? For example, Thursday, or Brihaspati in Sanskrit, corresponds to Jupiter. If you think about it logically, it all falls into place.
"OK OK" in Spain is "bale bale" (pronounced like vale vale). "For" becomes "por", and "aquí" means “here.” "Ued" (short for usted) is the formal form of "you."
On maps, when you see “Ued es aquí,” it means “You are here.” Handy, right?
In Italy, a grocery shop is called "alimentari". In Spanish, it becomes "alimentación"—because of course, everything needs to sound a bit more serious.
They say “pronto” (quickly) a lot too. These little things really help when you’re out there trying to buy a banana or find your way back to the hotel.
Also, parts of Morocco look exactly like Spain—unsurprising, considering Spain still controls two enclaves in Morocco: Ceuta and Melilla. Colonialism really does have a long shelf life.
Cádiz: Where History Crashed Into the Sea
Cádiz was one of the most fascinating cities I visited—soaked in history and sitting prettily by the sea. It had a unique coastal charm and a layered past that stretched back thousands of years.
Z is the New C
First things first: in Spanish, Z is pronounced like a soft ‘C’. So "Circus" becomes Zirkus and Churros becomes Zurros. Try saying that three times quickly with a mouth full of the real thing.
The Strategic Seaside Superpower
Cádiz’s location, right near Morocco, made it an incredibly strategic port city. In fact, in 1717, it was one of the most important cities in the world. The Spanish crown had moved its port operations from Seville to Cádiz, instantly boosting its prestige and importance.
Even Christopher Columbus (yes, that Columbus) launched two of his expeditions from here—including one to the New World. Cádiz sat at the confluence of the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea, acting like the gateway to the Americas. Ships carried goods to North, Central, and South America from here—and even sailed all the way to the Philippines, which became a Spanish colony. No wonder the locals were so modern—they were talking to half the world.
Towering Above It All – Torre Tavira
I went up to the top of Torre Tavira, a tall watchtower used by merchants to scan the sea for pirates, bad weather, or maybe just gossip. The 360-degree view from up there was absolutely spectacular. Entry cost me 8 Euros, but I didn’t regret a single cent.
Back in the day, people had a very clear hierarchy in house planning: the ground floor was for business, the first floor for residence, and the top floor for servants. I’m not saying it was fair, but it was certainly organized.
The Narrowest Streets Known to Man
Cádiz's roads were extremely narrow—so narrow that even Google Maps looked like it wanted to give up and go home. I felt like I was in a maze half the time. I must have walked the same street at least four times, each time hoping it would magically lead somewhere new. It didn’t.
The Cathedral – Baroque Meets Neo-Classical
The Cádiz Cathedral was a mix of Baroque and Neo-Classical styles, and it was quite massive. The golden dome shone against the sky like a paella pot lid (okay, maybe that’s just me). It had that usual Spanish Cathedral grandeur—perfect for reminding you that the church had money, style, and influence.
Museum, Mummies, and Phoenicians
I also visited the Museum of Cádiz, and it was absolutely packed with history. It turns out that the Iberians came here from Africa around 8000 BC. But even before them, the Phoenicians—the master sailors from what is now Lebanon—had already set foot here. Then came the Romans, because of course they did. And apparently, some Egyptian artifacts were also found here. Cádiz was basically the original melting pot.
The museum showcased ceramic plates, cups, Roman sculptures, and other artefacts from all three civilizations—Iberian, Phoenician, Roman. It was like a flea market run by history itself.
There’s even a Roman Theatre in Cádiz—but sadly, I didn’t manage to visit it. Most places in Cádiz close by 1 PM for siesta.
Walking Tours That Went in Circles
Cádiz offers 4 walking tours—each marked with different colored lines on the pavement. I ambitiously tried to do two of them. But between the heat, the labyrinthine streets, and my brilliant sense of direction , I ended up walking the same road again and again, like a GPS stuck in a loop. I gave up on the remaining two tours, partly because they were hard to find, and partly because I was already developing a strong emotional connection with the one alley I kept returning to !
Final Thoughts
Cádiz was a city that punched way above its weight in terms of history, architecture, and sea breezes. It wasn’t just beautiful—it was layered, lived-in, and luminous. I may have lost my way several times, but I gained stories, stumbled into history, and possibly set a personal record for walking in circles.
Up next: More Spanish cities, more siestas, and hopefully fewer self-inflicted detours!
20.10.2021
The Day I Went Hunting for Sherry, Horses, and Flamenco (and Got Lost in Narrow Lanes Instead)
Good Morning, Muffin and Coffee
The morning at the pension started simply — with a muffin and coffee, as if Spain whispered, “You’re in for a light breakfast, amigo.”
Then, off I went to Jerez de la Frontera (pronounced "Kherez") by local train. It left at 8:20 AM and took about 40 minutes. Quite nice, really. There was even a bathroom on board — a luxury I always appreciate more than I admit. However, the chairs couldn’t be reclined and there was no family seating area with a table, unlike the long-distance trains. Still, it did the job for just €4.25 one way.
First Breakfast, Second Breakfast
After getting down at Jerez, I went straight to a restaurant near the station for some Spanish soul food — Tortilla de Patatas (Spanish omelette made of egg = huevo, and potato = patata). It cost €1.60. Coffee was €1. Orange juice? €1.20. I paid €3.80 in total and felt like I was winning at budgeting.
I also tried processed pork while I was there. Honestly, it was expensive and didn’t leave a lasting impression. My taste buds were underwhelmed.
The Market That Spoke Volumes
I passed through a local market — which I always find enlightening. Reading the menu cards in front of restaurants tells you more about a country’s economy than any finance minister ever could.
A kilo of oranges cost around ₹130 — a steal considering their average income. Most vegetables were within €2–3. Apples and pomegranates? Under €2. Chicken (pollo) hovered around ₹300–350/kg. Octopus was ₹350–450. Tiger prawns (tigre) were €8, anchovies €5, and they were even selling fish eggs for €7. Sardines were €2.5, puntelitas (baby squid) went for €10, and fish fillet was €6.8.
Hola and Phones, But No Buenos Días
In Spain, nobody really says Buenos Días or Buenas Tardes like the Italians say Buongiorno. Everyone just says Hola. It’s the all-purpose greeting, and it works like magic.
Also, I noticed almost no one using a camera anymore. Just phones. DSLRs are the dinosaurs of travel now.
Jerez – City of Horses, Sherry, and Flamenco
Jerez is part of the Andalusian region (Andalucía) and technically under Seville’s umbrella. Seville is the capital of Andalusia. This region takes pride in being the spiritual capital of Flamenco, the home of Sherry, and the land of beautiful horses.
But if you ever need to ask someone for directions — saying "Jerez" might not help. No one understood me. I had to say "Kherez, la Catedral" to get a reaction. Oh, and don’t forget: there’s no "th" in "Cathedral" when you're speaking Spanish!
I saw the Gothic Cathedral from outside — quite stunning. Right next to it was the Alcázar and a Bodega (Sherry cellar). I skipped the Alcázar, because I had already seen two others in Granada and Seville, and let’s be honest — there's only so much medieval fortress one can handle without needing wine.
Bodega Tour — With Celebrity Endorsements!
I just made it in time for the Bodega tour. Apparently, Ayrton Senna, Omar Sharif, and Milton Friedman had also visited this place. So, I figured I was in good company.
The guide did an impressive juggling act, switching between German, Spanish, and English with Olympic precision. One cool thing I learned: Sherry doesn’t carry an age tag because old and new wines are blended. Like the perfect marriage — aged wisdom meets youthful energy.
We visited 4 cellars in total. One gentleman claimed he had 1,000 wines at home and owned a wine company. Respect. I also met a lovely German lady, around 62, travelling alone — an architect and interior designer. We had Sherry together. Her boyfriend was off doing a bike tour in Tarifa, near Morocco (where, believe it or not, you can hear the Azan from across the sea!).
She mentioned Tarifa is also famous for kite surfing — as is Jerez.
The sherry tasting session was absolutely fantastic! We learnt all about the 200-year-old tradition of sherry-making. The basic €18 ticket gives access to three cellars, but I splurged on the €24 option - four cellars and four sherries, accompanied by walnuts (akhrot), jamón (that heavenly Spanish ham), sausage, and salami. Though I must confess - at times it became a delicious guessing game: Was that thinly sliced jamón or salami? Did that sausage just impersonate salami? I'll have to consult my Spanish friend Belen for a proper meat identification masterclass. She's been wonderfully helpful already - she even WhatsApp-ed me a train ticket to visit her hometown!
Two of the Sherries were sweet — and naturally, I loved those. The other two were... educational. The whole presentation was classy, and I walked away both tipsy and enlightened.
Of Flamenco, Siesta, and Frustration
Next, I headed to the Flamenco museum — but guess what? It was closed. Siesta had struck again. Everything shuts down around 2:00 PM, and this is a serious problem in places like Jerez and Granada. I didn’t face this in Barcelona, which might explain why Barcelona felt more... caffeinated.
Even the information centre, which I visited at 2:30 PM for a map, was closed! So without a proper map, I couldn’t locate the horse show venue and decided to skip it. A shame — but the town still charmed me.
Arcos de la Frontera – The White Town That Got Away
I had also planned to visit Arcos de la Frontera — a beautiful Pueblo Blanco (white town). The Moors considered the colour white sacred. There are many such towns in Spain, and Arcos is one of the most picturesque. My friend Dodi Fog highly recommended it.
I reached the bus station at 4:30 PM. Buses for Arcos leave at 5 PM and 7 PM. Travel time was 30–40 minutes, but the last bus back at Arcos was at 8:30 PM — and I didn’t want to risk it. No train goes to Arcos, and since I was alone, renting a car was not an option. So, I dropped the plan and headed back to Cádiz, slightly heartbroken.
Back to Cádiz — Still No White Towns, But Lots of Walking
There are four walking tours in Cádiz, and I managed to do two. No white towns here like Ronda or Granada, but the route along the sea was beautiful.
Most houses were in Baroque style, some leaning towards Rococo. The churches had a different architectural vibe altogether. I walked to Flores Plaza, famous for fried fish (Fritura de Pescado). Naturally, I had some.
I also had orange juice, Tapas, and Sangria (just €2.20!). But here’s the thing — in most places, they don’t serve Tapas automatically with wine or Sangria, unlike what I expected. In this case, they gave me salted cookies with Sangria. Tapas had to be ordered separately.
There are three portion sizes:
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Tapas – €1.50 (small)
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Half Ración – €4.50
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Ración – €10
I also tried a Sortida (assortment of fish) for €5.05. Not too expensive. I avoided pizza (too Italian) but occasionally grabbed a Durum — easy to carry, easy to eat on the move.
Maritime Glory and Missed Beaches
Cádiz played a huge role in maritime trade. Just like we have Greenwich Mean Time, sailors used to calculate their positions relative to Cádiz Maritime Time, especially after 1717 when the capital of the Spanish Empire’s overseas trade was moved here from Seville. Every ship had to report its position with respect to Cádiz.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it to the “Copacabana” beach of Cádiz — time just ran out. But honestly, Cádiz isn’t exactly famous for its beaches.
Final Thought: Jerez gave me Sherry and history, Cádiz gave me architecture and salted cookies with wine. Arcos... well, Arcos gave me regret. But that’s all part of the journey, isn’t it?
21.10.2021
A Day Trip to Cordoba: Of Horses, History, and Handy Left-Luggage
Today, I embarked on a short but memorable trip to Cordoba — no, not the one in Argentina, but the one in Andalusia, Spain! Since I wasn’t staying overnight, I had to solve the universal traveler's dilemma: Where do I park my bags so I can roam freely like a lost philosopher?
The train arrived in Cordoba, and I realized the train station has no left luggage facility — classic! But worry not, fellow nomads: the bus station right next door came to the rescue. There was no space in the automatic left-luggage lockers, but thankfully, the manual luggage facility had mercy on me and agreed to store my bag.
The Magnificent Mesquita (Also Known as the Mosque-Cathedral)
My first stop was the legendary Mesquita of Cordoba, which is now officially called the Cathedral of Cordoba (La Catedral). But don't let the name fool you — inside it’s a beautiful hybrid of religious architecture, like an interfaith buffet of arches and domes.
The double horseshoe arches (yes, they are as elegant as they sound) created a spellbinding rhythm in the prayer hall. Surprisingly, the interior also featured images of Jesus and Mary, reminding you that this space has had multiple spiritual tenants over the centuries.
I initially underestimated the site — but once inside, I was in awe. It was grand, spiritual, and deeply atmospheric.
Sadly, Siesta came knocking, and we were politely told to leave. (Spain: where even cathedrals nap.)
Entry fee: €13.5 (some concessions available at €12.5).
Alcazar of Cordoba – A Light Snack after the Mesquita Feast
Right behind the Mesquita sat the Alcazar of the Christian Monarchs, which charged a very reasonable €5.5 for entry. But honestly? It was a bit underwhelming after the Mesquita’s magic.
There were some Roman mosaics and tiles, but it didn’t quite carry the grandeur I had hoped for. Still, historically important — Cordoba was once the capital of the Roman Province of Hispania and later the capital of Moorish Spain before being re-conquered in the mid-1200s by Queen Isabel and King Fernando — a full 250 years before Granada fell. Cordoba fell to Christian forces in 1236, while Granada fell in 1492.
So yes, Cordoba had a longer and arguably richer Islamic reign than Granada. And you can feel it in the air — Cordoba felt very different from Granada, more relaxed, more layered, more... sun-baked? I liked it a lot, despite my initial hesitation about visiting.
Wine, Wandering, and a Brush with Don Quixote
I had some spare time and tried to visit a Flamenco museum, but of course — Siesta! The place was closed.
Then came an unexpected treat — I stumbled upon "The Thieves’ Den", an old haunt that’s actually mentioned in Miguel de Cervantes’ legendary "Don Quixote"! The writer himself used to visit this place, and today it houses the Museo de Bellas Artes (Fine Arts Museum). I couldn’t go in, but I clicked a few pictures from the outside, hoping some literary brilliance might rub off through the camera lens.
Equestrian Extravaganza: Galloping into the Past
Cordoba is home to an Equestrian Show — a sort of theatrical horse ballet. I had booked a ticket in advance: €16.5 for a front-row seat to horsey history.
This show took place in a historic riding school, and although I appreciated the tradition and skill, I wouldn't call the performance mind-blowing. Still, worth the experience. They only host one show per day, so if you're a horse lover or just in the mood for equine elegance, book early!
Of Synagogues, Patios, and Pueblo Blancos
Cordoba is one of the rare Spanish cities where you can still visit a historic synagogue — the others were destroyed, sadly. There’s a charming Jewish quarter here, and a local "Patio Tour" lets you step inside traditional Andalusian homes — famed for their inner courtyards filled with flowers. I couldn’t do that tour due to lack of time. Next time, for sure!
There were also white towns ("Pueblos Blancos") and an old town nearby, which I skipped for logistical reasons. But just knowing they were nearby added a touch of Moorish mystique to the air.
Farewell Flamenco (Almost)
Before leaving, I tried to catch a Flamenco performance, but again, either bad luck or bad timing (or both) kept me from it. Many of the places that hosted shows before COVID had either shut down or scaled back.
I had hoped to see a performance in Don Quixote’s old stomping grounds, but alas — the real Flamenco stole my heart in Seville instead.
The Day’s End: Luggage, Dinner & Reflections
After the show, I returned to the bus station, retrieved my luggage, and grabbed a quick dinner there. Simple, unglamorous, but satisfying.
Cordoba turned out to be one of the highlights of my trip. What began as a maybe-yes-maybe-no turned into a deeply enriching cultural experience. The fusion of Islamic, Christian, and Jewish histories, the architecture, and the vibe of the city felt unique, distinct from both Seville and Granada.
22.10.2021
Madrid: From Swamp to Capital (And a Lot of Churros in Between)
I left for Madrid by bus. The bus, fashionably late by an hour, left at 2:00 am instead of the scheduled 1:00 am — which actually worked out better for me. I reached Madrid at 8:00 am, but not too early.
Metro and Ground Zero
First order of business: a metro card. I bought a 10-ride metro card for €12.50 — a very good deal. My hotel was conveniently located near Metro Puerta del Sol (often called just “Sol”), the most important station in Madrid. This is considered the “Kilometer Zero” of Spain — all distances are measured from here. Think of it as the Esplanade of Madrid, but with more tapas !
The hotel allowed early check-in, possibly because there was less rush — or maybe they took pity on my bus-wrecked face.
Day Trip That Wasn’t
I immediately rushed off for a day tour to Segovia and Toledo, but alas, the tour bus had already left, probably on its own grand adventure without me. Back to the hotel I went, got freshened up, and decided to explore Madrid instead.
Madrid: A Capital Chosen By Geography, Not Glamour
The name “Madrid” is believed to have come from the Arabic word “Magrit” meaning water channel. It used to be a swamp — yes, a real one. The Moors tried capturing it but didn’t bother much and headed south. Before 1309, no one even took Madrid seriously.
But then came Philip II, who ascended the Spanish throne in 1556. In 1561, he made Madrid the capital — not for any historical significance, but because it was in the center of Spain. Basically, a decision based on geography, not grandeur. It was used by the Moors earlier as a military garrison.
Palacio Real – Fit for a King, But Not for a Camera
Madrid may not have a rich medieval history like other Spanish cities, but it does have Palacio Real — the Royal Palace, and it’s nothing short of opulence. Entry was €12, and photography inside was strictly forbidden — a heartbreak for every photography enthusiast.
It’s comparable to the grandeur of Habsburg Palace in Vienna or Versailles in France. There are 50+ rooms, including one featuring a painting by Goya. Royal, indeed.
Cathedral? No !
Unlike the grand cathedrals of Seville, Cádiz, or Granada, Madrid’s cathedral was… well… ordinary. I heard even the interiors weren’t anything to write home about, so I skipped it. No cathedral FOMO (Fear of missing out) here.
Walking Tour Highlights (and Snacks)
I joined a walking tour starting from Plaza de Oriente, passing by the Royal Palace, the Cathedral, and remnants of the Moorish wall. The wall had once protected their garrison, but today it quietly watches tourists munching snacks.
There’s a beautiful market called Mercado de San Miguel — essentially a posh food court. It was a feast for the senses. I spotted a Tapas Bar and then headed to the famous Plaza Mayor, surrounded by restaurants and buzzing energy. But I did not eat anything there, though it is very interesting !
Churros That Melted My Heart
Then came the moment I was waiting for — Chocolatería San Ginés, the Flurys of Madrid. Their legendary churros with hot chocolate lived up to the hype. Normally, they serve three churros, but seeing how quickly I devoured them, the kind server gave me one extra — free of charge. I paid €4 for the treat.
After that, I visited the San Ginés Church, located just nearby.
Museum Time – Picasso vs Prado
By 2:00 pm, Convento de las Descalzas Reales, my walking tour’s final stop, was closed due to Siesta. That’s Spain for you — beauty, history, and naps.
Madrid is home to two heavyweight museums:
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Museo del Prado – famous for its Flemish collections, Velázquez, etc.
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Museo Reina Sofía – the modern art hub, home to Picasso and Dalí.
I skipped Prado, having already seen many of Europe’s classic museums. Instead, I visited Reina Sofía to see Picasso’s “Guernica” — a jaw-dropping masterpiece, both in size (Height: 11 ft 5 in,Width: 25 ft 6 in) and emotional impact. Entry was €10. “Guernica” was Picasso’s scream against war — Spain’s Mona Lisa of modern art painted in response to the 1937 Nazi bombing of the Basque town of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War. The bombing was carried out by Nazi Germany's air force, the Luftwaffe, and the Italian Aviazione Legionaria, at the request of the Spanish Nationalist forces led by General Francisco Franco.
Picasso's "Guernica" is a powerful anti-war masterpiece painted in 1937. The monumental mural captures chaos and suffering through its monochromatic palette and fractured, Cubist style. It served as a political statement and brought international attention to the brutality of the conflict. The painting became a poignant symbol of the devastation of war and a powerful testament to peace. Visiting it fulfilled a long-standing item on my bucket list.
Photography was banned on the 2nd floor (where all the good stuff was), but oddly allowed on the almost-empty 4th floor. I later complained about this to a lady at the tourism office. She agreed — though probably had heard it 57 times already.
Boating and Bangladeshi Encounters
Next, I visited Parque del Buen Retiro — Madrid’s answer to Dhakuria Lake. Locals were happily boating on its serene waters.
In the evening, I tried visiting La Latina, a neighborhood known for its tapas. But I couldn’t find it (Google Maps may have been napping), and I was running out of time.
Instead, I stumbled upon a Bangladeshi supermercado (alimentación) and met a man from Comilla. He ran a restaurant nearby. His son had completed an MBA, and the shop manager was from Dhaka. We even chatted about Dharmasagar, a famous spot in Comilla. I bought some delicious roast chicken and brought it back to the hotel for dinner.
A Curious Madrid Phenomenon
By 10:00 pm, Madrid revealed another face. Just like Las Ramblas in Barcelona, Madrid’s central squares — especially Sol — turned into a bustling bazaar run by African immigrants. They laid out bedsheets covered in hats, jerseys, and souvenirs, with ropes at the corners.
The moment a police car was spotted, the whole setup disappeared in three seconds flat — like something straight out of a Sukanta Bhattacharya poem. Swift. Silent. Strategic.
Interestingly, the Bangladeshis told me that African migrants weren’t considered reliable workers by locals — hence few opportunities and their shift to street selling. But boy, were they alert — Olympic relay runners could take lessons from them.
Madrid in a Nutshell
You can cover Madrid in a day — history, food, museums, parks, and street drama included. It may not have the soul-stirring charm of southern Spain, but Madrid holds its own — a capital that rose from a swamp, now sitting proudly in the center of the country.
And yes — churros taste better when you get an extra one for free !
23.10.2021
A Day in Cuenca: Hanging Houses, Generous Hosts & a Lot of Love
I left for Cuenca, the hometown of Belén — though she currently lives in England. It was Belén who kindly arranged the train ticket for me in advance. Cuenca falls within the Castilla-La Mancha region, a fertile part of Spain known for its saffron fields and — wait for it — producing the highest quantity of wine in the entire country. Yes, more than even La Rioja!
It’s also the setting where Miguel de Cervantes began the fictional journey of Don Quixote, the original windmill-fighter. There are still many windmills scattered around the region — I couldn’t visit them, unfortunately, because I ran out of time. Next time, perhaps.
Layers of History (and Conversions)
Cuenca has its own Reconquista story — the usual Spanish religious remix: church built over mosque, and a Jewish settlement somewhere in between. Being further north, Cuenca came under Catholic rule earlier, around the 1150s, well before the southern cities like Granada waved the white flag.
Although it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, not many tourists make it here. Their loss. It took me over two hours to reach Cuenca, but the moment I arrived, I could tell this place was special — the old city stands between two deep river gorges, with a river flowing dramatically at the bottom like it’s auditioning for a National Geographic documentary.
The Warmest Welcome – With a Pram
At the station, I was greeted by Alberto, the partner of Belén’s sister. They have a 2-year-old baby, who also came along in a pram. Since Belén’s sister had an important exam, she couldn’t join .
Alberto was extremely kind. While we were having coffee, Belén’s mother appeared, took the pram (and baby), and let Alberto show me around properly.
Abstract Art and Houses That Hang (Literally)
He took me through the old town, and we visited a museum known for abstract art — unexpectedly modern for such a historic place. Then came the highlight: “Casa Colgadas”, or Hanging Houses — the most iconic postcard view of Cuenca. These houses dangle dramatically over the cliffside, like they’re testing the laws of physics with flair. They were both terrifying and beautiful.
A Royal Lunch, Courtesy of Belén
Then came a surprise. Alberto led me to a beautiful local restaurant, and told me — quite casually — that Belén had booked a full-course meal for me. I didn’t need to pay a cent. It was a proper “Plato del Día” (plate of the day) meal, and most importantly, it was the first proper full-course lunch of my tour. I felt like a guest at a royal banquet.
Alberto had some work to attend to after lunch, so he bid me farewell. I spent the rest of the day exploring Cuenca on foot.
The Dish That Got Away (Almost)
Belén had mentioned that Cuenca has a special local dish that’s only available in this city. I was eager to try it, but unfortunately, it wasn’t available at the restaurant she had booked. Oh well — can’t win them all.
But fate had other plans.
While I was waiting at the Tourist Information Centre (they explained everything very nicely and gave me a detailed map), Alberto reappeared like a magician, this time holding a tinned version of that local specialty that Belén had told me about. It wasn’t available fresh, but he got me the next best thing. It was such a thoughtful gesture — honestly, this family’s kindness deserves its own UNESCO award.
I spent the rest of my time, map in hand, determined to conquer the parts of the city we'd missed during Alberto's tour ! With time running out, I knew I had to get back to the bus station or risk an unplanned, street-side stay in Cuenca.
Back to Base
My bus started at 8:00 pm, and the round-trip fare was €31. I reached home late at 10:30 pm, exhausted but extremely content.
Final Thoughts
Cuenca may not be splashed all over Instagram, but it offered me history, architecture, generosity, and a warm connection to a family I had never met before. From the cliff-hugging houses to the abstract art museum, from a baby in a pram to a tinned delicacy hand-delivered with love — it was a day I won’t forget.
If you ever visit Spain, don’t skip Cuenca — it’s not just a city, it’s a storybook town where everything hangs... including the houses.
24.10.2021
Toledo, Luggage Woes, Chinese from Filipinos, and a Bangladeshi Grocery Epic
A Luggage Crisis, Madrid Style
Disaster struck early. Due to a train reschedule, I had to check out of my hotel with all my luggage. Unfortunately, the hotel refused to keep it in the left-luggage facility until 7:00 PM — something about shift changes.
My new hotel wasn’t helpful either. I arrived there at 9:30 AM, and they politely reminded me that check-in time is 2–3 PM. Excellent !
So, with no other choice and my luggage trailing behind me like a particularly loyal but stubborn pet, I dragged it to the tour bus office. I had no option but to take it with me on the tour, determined not to let this unfortunate turn of events ruin my day. I decided to simply face the consequences—Que sera sera!
Originally, I had planned to visit both Segovia and Toledo on a twin-city tour. But alas — no twin tour was running that day. So, I settled for the one city that sounded more exotic and more embedded in literature: Toledo.
It’s part of Castilla-La Mancha, the land of Don Quixote, where windmills are more famous than people. But my immediate concern was not Spanish literature — it was this: they (Bus Co.) told me I couldn't leave my luggage in the bus during the tour in Toledo (later I understood the reason, since another bus will take us back). What now?
A Peruvian Angel with Luggage
Then came a small miracle. A kind-hearted person from Peru boarded the same bus — and she too had a suitcase. Solidarity in rolling form! And more importantly, she knew Spanish, which made all the difference. Thanks to her intervention (and perhaps the driver’s growing sympathy), we were finally allowed to keep our luggage in the bus. I breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.
Toledo: Synagogues, Sweets, and Stunning Views
Toledo is famous for three big things:
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Synagogues (one of only two major locations in Spain where old ones still survive),
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Islamic (Mudejar) architecture, and
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Christian cathedrals.
Oh, and also for La Mancha-style dishes and a sweet called "Mazapán", which I later tried.
The tour was quite affordable — only €25. Distance-wise, Toledo isn’t far; it took just about an hour to get there. On the way, they made a quick stop at a beautiful viewpoint, giving us a chance to click postcard-perfect pictures of the city nestled in a gorge.
We started with the Toledo Cathedral, which was — how do I say this without sounding repetitive — quite stunning. Like most Spanish churches, it was built on top of a mosque, reflecting the usual Reconquista remix.
Toledo was once the capital of Spain until 1561, before Madrid stole the crown. There's also a grand Alcázar (fortress) and churches that showcase the Mudejar style — Islamic art fused into Christian architecture.
By 1:10 PM, our official sightseeing ended. The guide announced, “Free time till 4:30 PM!” That was music to my ears.
I grabbed a map from the tourist office, matched it with a walking route from my travel guidebook, and started exploring on my own. Walking tours are always better — they help you cover more without walking in circles like a lost pilgrim.
Over time, Toledo lost its political importance. But visually and culturally, it remains a masterpiece.
Sweets but No Carcamusas
Toledo is known for two food items. One is a sweet —Marzipan , which I did try, and it was delicious. The second was Carcamusas, a local pork and tomato stew. I didn’t have time for it. My watch ticked louder as 4:30 PM approached. I even skipped lunch .
Thanks to the smart walking route, I did manage to reach a gorge viewpoint, which offered breathtaking views of the city from above. Totally worth it.
A Hotel That Disappeared
Back in Madrid, a new twist awaited me.
When I arrived at my new hotel, I discovered — surprise! — it had been changed. Apparently, the booking platform moved me to another branch. A bit of a headache after a long day.
They claimed they had tried to contact me. Sigh.
Eventually, I checked in, luggage in tow (again), and there I met a friendly Argentinian guy. He lives in Germany, working in the admin department of a pharmacy company, and is originally from Buenos Aires. Like me, he also had an early morning flight — his at 7:10 AM, mine at 8:30 AM — so we decided to go to the airport together.
The Midnight Bus to Barajas
Here’s a little pro tip:
Earlier in the day, the Exprés Aeropuerto buse starts from Atocha train station (Madrid’s Howrah Station), but after 11:30 PM, they only leave from Cibeles Square ( 5 minutes from Atocha train station), every 30 minutes, all night long. It takes about 30–40 minutes to reach Madrid Barajas Airport.
Super useful if you’re catching an early flight and want to save money on taxis.
A Filipino-Chinese Dinner & Bangladeshi Stories
Dinner was a surprise too. I had Chinese food for the first time on this trip — but from a Filipino restaurant. Makes sense, considering Spain once ruled the Philippines. There’s still a visible Filipino community here.
The best part? The meal cost only €3.90. Absolute bargain!
On my way back, I discovered a Bangladeshi mini-market run by a man from Sylhet. His accent is still intact. He shared that he spent 23 years in Kuwait, but now regrets moving to Spain. His shop is narrow (about 6–7 feet wide), but long, and the rent is relatively cheap (according to him) €2,000. Just let that sink in.
Nearby, there’s another Bangladeshi shop with even higher rent. According to him, Madrid has more Bangladeshis than Barcelona, with most of them living near La Latina. He claimed there are about 50,000 Bangladeshis in Spain, and even a Bengali newspaper published locally!
Apparently, the standard salary for a Bangladeshi worker here is about €1,200–1,300 per month. He, however, seemed quite elderly and somewhat disillusioned.
Midnight Snacks, Carrefour Juice & Spanish Mayhem
Later, I bought some Pan (bread that looked suspiciously like a hot dog bun) and some Iberian Pork (Cerdo) to prepare for the next day’s travel.
Before heading to bed, I grabbed a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice from Carrefour (France’s second or third largest retailer after Walmart). For just €1.50, it was heavenly. Cold, sweet, and freshly made.
As for the streets of Madrid — oh boy. On Fridays and Saturdays, it’s party mayhem. People stay awake till 5–5:30 AM. There are broken bottles everywhere, garbage bins overflowing, and you’d think a tornado swept through the tapas bars.
Thankfully, my shoes were not pierced by the glass. I noticed they use powerful water jets in the morning to push all the trash to one side. A simple broom just wouldn’t do the job.
The way the quiet streets of daytime turn into riot zones at night is hard to describe. Tables pop up out of nowhere. People shout like their team just won the World Cup. It’s both chaotic and fascinating.
And let me say — if partying this hard is the national hobby, I’m amazed Spain manages to function at all! It's no surprise that many Spanish people own property, employing people from Bangladesh to run the shops, while they simply collect the rent at the end of the month and spend their time socializing.
25.10.2021
From Cibeles with Stress: The Airport Episode I’ll Never Forget
Cibeles is a grand plaza — truly huge and bustling — with the grand Banco de España metro station right next to it. I left a little early with my Argentinian friend, who, by this time, had become my partner in crime for this late-night airport adventure. We both boarded the Airport Express bus from Cibeles. It was running like clockwork.
I arrived at Madrid airport, all bleary-eyed at 4:00 AM. Everything seemed calm until I joined the airline queue. That’s when the storm broke.
RT-PCR or RIP?
At the counter, the staff asked for my RT-PCR test report. I cheerfully told them, “I’ve taken both doses of the vaccine in India and I did my RT-PCR on 8th October 2021. Negative!”
The airline staff, unmoved by my optimism, replied: “Sir, this report is too old. You need a fresh one. No RT-PCR, no boarding.”
WHAT?!
I almost fainted. My pulse dropped. It was easily one of the most stressful travel moments of my life. I somehow managed to find a seat before collapsing completely. The ground beneath me was gone — metaphorically.
Luckily, since I was flying Lufthansa, they allowed me to reschedule the flight for the next day without any extra charge. Thank you, Lufthansa — you may have saved a life that day.
Airport to Lab: A Sleep-Deprived Mission
Vaccination counters would only open at 7:30 AM, and it was just 4 AM. Those three and a half hours felt like an eternity. I waited.
Once open, they announced that those who had registered online would be tested first. Not ideal for me. Online forms were in Spanish, and even one small mistake might have cost me 100 Euros. No way. So, I decided to go the old-fashioned way — offline registration.
Thankfully, it didn’t take too long. For a 12-hour report, the cost was 56 Euros. If I wanted it urgently, the price would jump to 100 Euros. But I had no intention of paying that much unless I had to. I opted for 100 Euros.
Also, I needed to register on the Suvidha portal (newdelhiairport.in) to upload my documents. That would be another mission altogether.
Crisis Continues: Board Meetings and Bangladeshi Hospitality
As if this wasn't enough, I received a call from my office — the Board meeting would be held on Friday, 29th October 2021. I was still stuck in Spain!
From the airport itself, I coordinated with my PA over WhatsApp and managed to send the notice to the Directors. Because once I left the airport, I knew I’d be unreachable — no Wi-Fi, no data, no mercy.
Now the question was: Where to stay for the night?
That’s when I remembered something heartwarming. Earlier, the Bangladeshi shop owner, whom I’d met before heading to the airport, had casually said, “If you need a place to sleep, you can come back. There’s a small corner in the shop.”
At the time, it had felt like an empty offer. But now? It felt like salvation.
I took the Airport Express bus back to Cibeles for 5 Euros, took the Gran Vía, and then walked through Calle Hortaleza to his shop.
Bangladeshi Refuge and Life Lessons
They welcomed me like family. I left my luggage there and chatted with them for hours. Their stories were raw and real — full of hard work and resilience.
Their monthly expenses were around 650 Euros:
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House Rent: 300 Euros
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Food: 150 Euros
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Electricity: 100 Euros
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Miscellaneous: 100 Euros
They stuck price stickers on every item in the store and sold them at decent markups. Almost no one haggled or checked prices, because most were hotel tourists needing one or two quick items. There was a Carrefour nearby, but standing in queue for one item? Not worth it. So, they earned their business.
The shop stayed open till 3–4 AM — imagine that! Not an easy life by any means.
Most Spanish landlords rented out properties to Bangladeshis, who did the hard work and stayed behind the counters. Our shopkeeper wasn’t a legal resident initially, he missed out on pension benefits. Now, his monthly pension is just 500 Euros.
His son is learning Spanish at a local college (2 hours daily) and plans to pursue a Bachelor’s degree in Technology — though he hasn’t enrolled yet.His son, however, had picked up Spanish fluently. Impressive!
The most common exchange in the shops was a rhythmic and simple routine:
Shopkeeper: Algo más? (Anything else?)
Customer: Nada más. (Nothing more.)
This exchange was so frequent—I must have heard it thirty times that evening alone—that it's been permanently etched into my memory. Simple, poetic, and businesslike, I'm fairly certain I'll be able to recite it on my deathbed!
Lunch, Panic, and Existential Crisis
For lunch, I returned to the same Filipino-Chinese restaurant.
By 4:00 PM, I returned to the shop. But horror awaited — the shutters were down. My heart nearly exploded.
Was I cheated? Had they disappeared with my luggage after all that bonding and storytelling?
Dark thoughts swirled in my head.
Then I calmed down. Maybe — just maybe — they had gone for lunch. After all, lunch happens a bit late in Spain. But I couldn’t relax. I didn’t even want to explore Madrid or eat any food. My mind was completely disturbed.
I just wandered aimlessly nearby, waiting, hoping.
The Suvidha Portal Struggle
Now came another test of patience: uploading documents to the Suvidha portal. This included:
Sounds simple? It wasn’t.
There were tricky fields, unclear instructions, and limited character limits — a perfect storm. The Bangladeshi shopkeeper’s son even tried to help me out. But even he couldn’t upload the documents. He does not have any computer in his shop.
Welcome to international travel in the time of COVID.
26.10.2021 (Tuesday)
When in Doubt, Wake Mohua: The Final Hours in Madrid
After repeated failed attempts to upload my documents on the Suvidha portal, I had to activate my ultimate backup plan: call Mohua in India — at 2:00 AM.
Let me just say, waking someone up in the middle of the night for tech support is not for the faint of heart. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Mohua, half-asleep but ever-reliable, managed to help me get everything uploaded from India. Honestly, she deserves a bravery medal.
Meanwhile, I was informed I’d have to do another RT-PCR test in Delhi. That sent a fresh wave of panic through me — what if I missed the connecting flight again? That thought alone was enough to keep me awake all night. I couldn’t afford another reschedule, mental breakdown, or mysterious Bangladeshi hideout in Madrid.
Operation: Don’t Miss the Flight (Again)
Determined not to mess things up this time, I left for the airport early — too early, actually.
Thankfully, this time, everything went smoothly. I boarded my flight from Madrid to Frankfurt right on time. I even had time to breathe — a luxury by my standards on this trip.
But my peace didn’t last long.
Frankfurt to Panicfurt: Breaking News from the Office
Just when I thought I could relax and enjoy the stopover in Frankfurt, I got another call from my office. This time, the news was even more confusing.
First, they said the Board meeting had been postponed.
"Great," I thought. I’d have more time to prepare, maybe even get some rest.
But wait — plot twist incoming.
Moments later, I got another call. My PA sheepishly informed me that the meeting wasn’t postponed after all — it was preponed! Yes, the meeting was now on Thursday, 28.10.2021 — not Friday as originally planned.
And just to add more spice to the moment, our Jt. MD called me over WhatsApp from India to say, “MD (one of the topmost bureaucrats of our State) was looking for you.”
Not the kind of mid-transit conversation one hopes for !
Shhh... here's my scandalous truth: My entire Spain trip was an undercover operation. Not a single soul at work knew I'd escaped—my 'holiday' was logged as business-as-usual, with zero leave days sacrificed. Only Mohua, my partner-in-crime, held the key to my Iberian heist.
Last to Board, First to Panic
In the middle of the boarding line in Frankfurt, I had to stop everything — including moving — to send a fresh notice to the Directors via WhatsApp. I let the passenger behind me go ahead, then another, and another.
Soon, I realized I was probably the last passenger to board the plane. And why? Because I was sending out Board meeting notices at the departure gate like a bureaucrat on the run.
The moment I stepped onto the aircraft, I knew: no Wi-Fi, no signal, no help. I just prayed that no further surprise meetings would be scheduled mid-air !
27.10.2021(Wednesday)
After a long flight from Frankfurt, I landed in Delhi at 1:00 AM. I had already paid Rs. 500 to book my Air Suvidha slot between 2:00–3:00 AM, just to be on the safe side. My next flight to Kolkata was at 8:30 AM.
Then came the twist — I found out the slot wasn’t even required anymore since I was fully vaccinated.
Anyway, I reached Kolkata on time and went straight to the office from the airport — suitcase in one hand, sleep in none.
Somehow, I survived the day and kept my job. Small victories!
