Dehesa Miles, Jamón Slices, and a Cool Hill Town
We left Zafra with the van feeling slightly smug, chairs stowed, fridge behaving, the kind of start that makes you think you have cracked travel. The land opened into dehesa, low cork oaks, long shadows, pigs somewhere out there doing important pig work. Mary watched the trees and said, “If the air had a taste […]
Zafra, A Table With Sturdy Chairs
Zafra sneaks up on you. Flat fields and quiet cattle for miles, then tiles and arches and a square that looks like someone dusted it with flour. We rolled into the motorhome area by the recinto ferial, did the dance with the levelling blocks, and found a spot that sat almost straight if you didn’t […]
Leaving Mérida, Heading South
The road out of Mérida pulls you into nothing. Fields. Stunted olive trees. A ridge in the distance that never gets closer. Mary said it looked like the backdrop from a school play about Spain. Painted sky. Real heat. We took the N-630 because she said motorways ruin the mood, and because I couldn’t face […]
The Morning We Didn’t Rush Off (Mérida to Zafra)
We were nearly gone. Bags packed, fridge humming again in the van, Mary wearing her slightly-less-sweaty top and pretending we were early. I’d already nipped out to check the tyres and make sure we hadn’t been boxed in by a recycling lorry, which we had, but I dealt with it by not thinking about it. […]
Mérida in a Day (And the Romans Are Still Shouting)
We slept like we’d been tranquilised. Shutters half shut, fan ticking, no clinking from the fridge, no toilet smell. Mary said she dreamed about chairs. Just chairs. That’s how far we’ve fallen. We left the Parador after breakfast, which was mostly things in packets and a yoghurt I didn’t trust, and set out in the […]
The One Night We Didn’t Sleep in the Van (Mérida)
We got to Mérida just after 8pm, which for Spain is still the middle of the afternoon, but for us meant tired, hungry, and one wrong turn away from a row. Mary had the map on her lap but had stopped pretending to read it about forty minutes earlier. “I need walls,” she said, quietly, […]
The Road to Cáceres — And the Stray Dog That Chose Us
We pulled off near Trujillo because the toilet was full, the fridge was making a clicking noise it’s never made before, and Mary said if she heard one more reggaeton track she’d drive us straight back to Hull. There was nothing there. One tree, a bin that had clearly been on fire at some point, […]
The Post-Porto Pause: Douro Dreams & Late Morning Starts
We didn’t exactly rush out of Porto. The van stayed put until the sun had properly climbed, and even then we were in no hurry. Breakfast was just coffee and a couple of leftover pastries Mary had tucked into a paper bag the night before. The kind of start that happens when you know there’s […]
A Night in Porto: Dust, Fado, and a Very Small Dog
We stayed in Porto after the sun went down. No rush to get back to the van. The air had cooled but the pavements were still warm, and the light over the Douro turned from gold to something softer. Mary said we’d regret it if we didn’t see the city at night, and she was […]
Porto: A Grand Arrival
We’d left Viana do Castelo late, hugging the coast where we could. Porto didn’t welcome us like we’d expected. Lanes split without warning, signs popped up after we’d already guessed the turn, and I’m fairly sure we circled the same block more times than I’ll admit. Eventually found a spot by the river that looked […]
Crossing into Portugal: First Stop, Viana do Castelo
We slid into Portugal like we were sneaking out of a party we never got invited to. One faded sign, no fanfare. I’d expected a dramatic border moment—a stamp, a sigh, a sudden burst of fado music maybe. Before Portugal we dropped into Santiago de Compostela as you will doubtlessly remember! We did. Instead, Kevin […]
Santiago de Compostela: Pilgrims and Reflections
We didn’t walk the Camino. Let’s get that out of the way upfront, before the walking boot brigade starts firing off emails about “missing the point.” We drove to Santiago. All 88 diesel-chugging kilometres from Coruña, powered not by faith or spiritual awakening, but by the promise of hot showers and a decent laundrette. And […]