Our first move in Santiago wasn’t one of our easiest. We just couldn’t seem to decide where to go next. We’d only booked our initial week’s stay in the city, which has become our usual approach and has mostly worked well, but in Chile it proved more challenging. All the places we wanted to visit made it difficult to find acceptable accommodation with good internet for Rachel.

Chile is the longest country in the world, roughly the width of the US, and it works in reverse to the northern hemisphere. The south, essentially Patagonia, is cold, and the north is roastio. Unfortunately, Patagonia will have to wait for another trip.

After much deliberation, we chose the Atacama Desert. We’d already selected our excursions, and my brilliant contact had organised the rest. I tried to get clever by booking the flights through Booking.com, which offered a discount as I’d also reserved the hotel through them. But when I arranged our airport transfer, I discovered my flights didn’t line up. It turns out I’d mistakenly booked 5–9 March instead of 5–9 February. It could have been worse, but I had to cancel and rebook the flights.

Once we’d checked our luggage and sailed through immigration (domestic flights really are easier), we boarded the plane. About two hours later, we landed in Calama, a purpose-built town, as most are in the Atacama Desert. Shortly after, we were on the transfer bus carving our way through the barren landscape, and about an hour later we arrived in San Pedro de Atacama. It looked like a town made of half-finished buildings, assembled from every material imaginable.

We stayed at La Estación Lodge, on the edge of town—close enough to everything, but far from the noise. The entrance was just a door on a dusty street. Everything here is dusty, but as I kept reminding myself, it’s the desert. We were met by our fantastic host, Xiaolin, who had helped me arrange all our trips.

Our small suite was surprisingly comfortable. We even had air conditioning, which is rare in a place that runs entirely on renewable energy. It felt like we’d been travelling for most of the day, but I’d booked a night walk in the desert. Our guide picked us up along with a young friend of his who was practising her English, and their very well-behaved dog, Caramello. We walked through sand and dried-up riverbeds, learning about the area as we went. Eventually we stopped under the stars and sat around a small fire before heading back and collapsing into bed.

The next morning we had time to ourselves, so we wandered around the small town. At its centre is a church that has stood for more than 500 years, with the surrounding streets created afterwards. The place had a really nice vibe, with surprisingly good restaurants and shops selling locally made goods. We found a great coffee shop too.

Our guide arrived just before 3pm to take us to the Salt Lagoon. First, though, we hiked through one of the canyons, where we were met with spectacular views of the surrounding area and the Andes. The day ended with a float in one of the salt lagoons. I hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Rachel’s the spa girl, I can take it or leave it, but this was a fantastic experience. You can’t really swim in it. You just lie back and float in water that’s around 18 degrees, which after a day under the desert sun was a welcome relief. Looking out over the Andes with only the sound of the water in your ears was, for me, the highlight of the day.

Apparently we were lucky. First, the moon wouldn’t rise until after 11pm, and second, it was a cloudless night. Around 8:30pm, with the light fading, we set off for our Tour Astronómico. Rachel and I love the stars, so this was one of the main reasons for coming to the desert, which is said to be one of the best places in the world for stargazing.

Our astronomer for the night was Simon, a passionate Chilean who was in his element sharing his knowledge. We’ve been on several astronomy tours, but we’ve never seen anything quite like this. Apparently, the stars in winter are even more impressive, but these were still incredible, including some only visible in the southern skies, namely the southern cross. It’s always fascinating to watch how quickly they move over the course of a night. Simon talked for hours to a captivated audience, and we ended with views of stars and planets through the telescope.

The following afternoon was spent in Moon Valley, supposedly named by a Belgian priest who, despite never having been to the moon, thought the landscape looked like it. The name stuck. We walked the trails through the dunes and out into rocky terrain where salt was once mined by small groups. Some of their dwellings can still be seen today. It must have been gruelling work.

The flight left Heathrow a little later than our 10pm scheduled departure, but we quickly made ourselves comfortable. After a light dinner, which was very good, we settled in. We both tend not to eat too much when we fly, especially on long-haul, but we’d had a busy week beforehand and were both pretty tired. So, after stretching out, duvets pulled up and blinkers on, we drifted off. I managed about six hours, Rachel slightly longer. Two gold stars for BA. Breakfast was good too.

After nearly fifteen hours, we touched down in Santiago and caught our first glimpse of the Andes Mountains. About thirty minutes later, our Uber driver dropped us at our Airbnb in Las Condes, right in the middle of the business district. We took it easy for the first few days while we reset our body clocks.

First impressions of where we’re staying: the apartment is comfortable, and the area is full of shiny new high-rises, with well-kept, tree-lined streets in between. I’m not much of a shopper anymore, but there’s a cool, modern, black warehouse-looking building just across from us called MUT (Mercado Urbano Tobalaba). It’s where local brands and delicious produce are showcased in a mix of swanky boutiques and purpose-built stalls spread over three main levels. The lower floor is all about food from around the world. There’s even a raclette house. I went most days to pick up fresh fruit and veg.

Rachel’s busy with work, so aside from our morning coffee at Milk, a great little coffee bar, and a stroll in the early evening, it’s been fairly slow-paced. Watching the business crowd unwind in the restaurant districts or head to the parks to relax has been interesting to see. The temperature has been hovering around thirty degrees, but it feels much hotter.

One evening, we stumbled across an outdoor concert. I think we’d both expected pan pipes or something similar, so we were surprised when Los Beetles took to the stage, complete with bowl haircuts and matching suits. They were actually very good, and we ended up staying for most of their set.

With the metro just a stone’s throw away, we headed downtown for a day exploring the sights and getting a better sense of Chile’s early history at the National Museum. From there, we wandered into the Museum of Art and then into the bohemian quarter for a great lunch and a mooch around one of the parks. Music and dance are a strong part of Chile’s cultural identity, and we saw it passionately expressed throughout our time in Santiago.

The best place to get a sense of Santiago’s size, framed by the Andes, is from San Cristóbal Hill. We took the cable car up (we did walk down though). Since it was a Sunday, the live church service and singing were piped around the summit, accompanied by church bells as we walked, which really added to the experience. It felt like a kind of pilgrimage for many. We stepped inside the small area beneath the statue of the Virgin Mary, and there was definitely a certain energy to the place. Unfortunately, the clouds moved in and we didn’t get a clear outline of the Andes, but the views out across the city were still a bonus.

Having organised the trip before Christmas, the time had come for me to head to Gatwick. With no one around to drop me at the train station, I jumped in a cab for the short ride. Rachel had arranged her own adventure at the same time, heading to Iceland with Mum, complete with a list of fantastic excursions.

I arrived at the station early to avoid any last minute stress, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken a UK train. I hadn’t realised that once the doors close, they don’t reopen, and the train leaves regardless of who’s left standing on the platform hurling abuse at it. Fortunately, they run often, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Christien and I met up, and after dropping our luggage, we boarded a full but uneventful flight to Geneva. With bags in hand, we picked up the car and headed off. After about an hour and forty five minutes, we arrived at my cousin’s apartment in Crans-Montana. It’s always great to see her and catch up with the family. I learnt to ski here, and so did Seb and Christien.

After a delicious risotto that Sansan had kindly prepared, and a good catch up, we turned in for the night.

The following morning, after breakfast, we set off for Les Violettes and took our first ride up to around 1700 metres. We started with a short run to loosen the legs before heading further up to Plaine Morte at 3000 metres, which is as high as you can go here. Lunch on the mountain has become a bit of a tradition. While there are plenty of places to eat, the Cabane des Violettes remains a favourite for both the food and the views across the Alps.

After a relaxed lunch, the afternoon light had started to fade, and I’d left my whiteout goggles at the apartment. We took it easy, knowing Seb was arriving from St Gallen later that evening. After picking him up from the station, the four of us headed to a great little restaurant that specialises in Valaisan cuisine.

I really enjoy the skiing, but I also love spending time with the boys, and watching them enjoy each other’s company as well.

The next morning brought clear blue skies, which made for a fantastic day as we skied from Cry d’Er across to Aminona. It was one of those memorable days on the slopes. Seb had been talking about raclette all day, so that evening we went to Château Villa, known for its five-cheese raclette with cheeses from the Rhône Valley. Christien went for the meats. It was a great meal and a lovely atmosphere.

Sunday followed a similar pattern. The three of us were completely in our element, with Christien leading the charge down the mountain. I’m still more comfortable at the back of the pack, but I don’t mind. We finished with a final top-to-bottom run, legs burning and feet completely numb from the ever uncomfortable ski boots. I had some custom ones made years ago, but they still hurt.

That evening, we joined my aunt and cousins for a family get together in Montana, followed by a lantern-lit walk around an icy golf course.

On our last morning, we had one final ski in perfect sunshine. The slopes were quiet, the snow was fresh, and it was a lovely way to end the trip. A few wonderful days, full of good skiing, good food, and great company.

We’ve busied ourselves dressing the house for Christmas. I’ll be honest, I’ve always leaned more towards the Christmas humbug side of things, but less so as I get older. When the sparkly bits come to life at night and my mother turns into an excited child, it makes it all worth it.

Peterborough Cathedral was again our Christmas venue for the arts. It’s a special place for Rachel, as her parents were part of the flock there. This year, they had an orchestra up from London performing Beethoven’s 5th and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons to a packed house. Perhaps it was the combination of great acoustics and the mesmerising gothic architecture, but it was a couple of hours of fantastic entertainment. We all left humming different pieces for days afterwards.

We went with my mum to church on Christmas Eve, which turned out to be a very festive and jovial affair. Christien arrived at midday on Christmas Day, lured in with the promise of a feast, long walks and time together. He knows how to stay in his mum’s good books.

We decided to spend a day in Ely, wandering around the old historical centre and looking inside its impressive cathedral. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but we’re both drawn to religious buildings. Not because we’re deeply religious, because we’re not, but more because we both appreciate the architectural design and the sense of history they hold.

The temperatures have dropped, but it’s been dry, which I really don’t mind. You can dress for the cold. Ely also has a roastery, so I picked up some fresh beans for the coffee machine I bought for when we’re in the UK. After deciding that spending £20 a day on coffee between the three of us probably justified splurging on a good machine, I went all in, including the bits and bobs that go with making the perfect cup. Let me tell you though, I have a new appreciation for our great barista in St Ives. I’ve already wasted a few bags of coffee and bought some ridiculous extras in my quest for that elusive perfect cup.

The following day we met up with Seb and Ally at The Cock in Hemingford Grey, which is a favourite of ours. Good food, family banter, and a few board games afterwards, which we all enjoy. Then it was time to say goodbye to Seb, Ally and Christien. Great fun all around.

New Year’s Day saw us on a long walk around the grounds of Wimpole Hall, just outside Cambridge. We always check on mum to see if she’s alright, but she usually outlasts us both.

Rachel had her team meet-up in Crowthorne, so we left a snowy Hartford and headed to Easthampstead Park, which is always a comfortable stop for us. Rachel went off to meet up with old friends, while I caught up with Paul, Steve and Jeff. After decades of gyming together, we still manage to keep in touch, and brunch at the farm shop has become a bit of a tradition.

The following day I met up with Andy for a march around the grounds, putting the world to rights as we always do. Just after New Year, we managed to see Chris and Lesley and their dogs for a walk, although it ended rather abruptly when we found ourselves in the middle of a shoot. Still, it was great to see them. We don’t often get the chance, as they’ve become busy travellers too.

I’ve really enjoyed this Christmas.

We’ve really enjoyed wandering through the historical part of town. I really like the traditional Andalusian architecture, with narrow cobbled streets and whitewashed buildings, winding their way through the old city before spilling into the busier main thoroughfares. About a ten-minute walk from us is the rather excellent “Virgen” coffee shop, which has become our first stop on morning walks around the city. After that, we head off exploring, always discovering something new that piques our interest.

Apparently, Spain doesn’t really celebrate Christmas the way much of Europe does. The main celebration falls on January 6th, “Three Kings Day,” when children receive their presents. But Seville feels different from the Balearics and Canaries, where we’ve spent other Christmases. The lights here are fantastic, and the streets are teeming with people who, like us, seem happy to simply be out, soaking up the atmosphere. The cathedral at night is particularly impressive, glowing golden against the dark sky and blending with the amber of the streetlights strung across the main avenues. It really is quite something and marked a perfect beginning to our final weekend in Spain.

I’d booked the fast train to Córdoba, which is about forty minutes from Seville, specifically to see the Mezquita. After a fifteen-minute walk to the station and a quick pass through security, we boarded and were soon on our way. Like many older cities, Córdoba greets you first with its commercial district, modern buildings, and infrastructure, before you make your way through to the historical centre. After a thirty-minute walk, we found ourselves winding through the old Jewish quarter until we reached the imposing outer walls of the Mezquita. It is, as its name suggests, a mosque-cathedral. Originally built in 786 AD as a mosque, it was later reclaimed by the Christians in the early 13th century, who then built additions around it.

Stepping inside feels like entering a forest of columns. Double arches stretch high above, letting in light and supporting the vaulted roof. There are said to be 850 of these columns. Thankfully, when the Christians took it over, they built around the existing structure rather than on top of it. The ornate Christian additions only seem to enhance its beauty, turning the space into something quite unique and, I think, more powerful as a place of worship. It really is extraordinary.

Afterwards, we crossed the Roman bridge over the Guadalquivir River to take in views back across the old town before settling into a long, leisurely lunch.

Back in Seville, we had one final surprise. As part of the Constitution Day celebrations, there was a performance of “The Barber of Seville” at the long sold-out theatre. Ever the optimist, I’d convinced Rachel and Mum that sometimes people don’t turn up, so we went anyway. As luck would have it, three seats became available when a few local dignitaries failed to appear. It wasn’t a full version of Rossini’s opera, but it didn’t matter. Even performed in Spanish, the comedy wasn’t lost on us. Although Figaro’s aria was missing, the singers and the energetic cast were all fantastic. The 20-piece orchestra was brilliant too.

It was a wonderful way to end what has been a thoroughly enjoyable Spanish adventure.

After three hours on the train and a short walk from the station, we arrived at our final resting place for this leg of the trip. It’s in a great location, right on the edge of the historical quarter and surprisingly quiet. We had arrived a day early to get the lay of the land and pick up supplies, as we were expecting guests for the weekend and my mother was coming to stay with us for a couple of weeks.

Rachel’s sister Ruth and her husband Terry had very kindly flown with my mother for a long weekend, making sure she got here safely. They dropped her off on the way to their hotel on Friday evening. We had agreed to all meet up the following morning, as they were understandably jaded. So after a few quick hugs with Ruth and Terry and a warm welcome for mum, we all called it a night.

After a light breakfast the next day, we set off to meet Ruth and Terry at their hotel across town. They had both slept well and were excited to explore the city. The weather was beautiful, so we decided to walk along the river towards the Plaza de España. It was really nice to catch up with everyone as we walked, enjoying the energy and sounds of the city.

The Plaza de España, finished in 1929 to reaffirm Spanish unity with its former colonies, is laid out in a vast, perfectly symmetrical semicircle. It’s surrounded by a moat, which was empty this time of year, and combines a mix of romantic architectural styles that is truly mesmerising.

After an enjoyable lunch at an excellent Arabic restaurant overlooking the cathedral, we all went back to change before meeting up again that evening at the renowned flamenco theatre. The performance was highly charged, incredibly passionate, and absolutely jaw-dropping. Brilliant.

The following day we had booked an 11am slot to visit the Royal Alcázar. It’s a fascinating blend of Mudéjar, Renaissance, Gothic and Baroque influences, and I can see why it is still in use as a royal residence. For me, it was the interiors I found most compelling, especially the intricate Islamic geometric designs that covered many of the walls and ceilings. The gardens, too, offered a peaceful, thought-provoking glimpse into the past, with their careful layout and abundant water features.

Later, we made our way to the world’s largest Gothic cathedral, which is understandably a popular attraction. We had booked ahead to make sure we could get inside. The Giralda, originally a twelfth-century minaret, was built with thirty-five ramped sections so the Arabic ruler of the time could ride his horse to the top. It was later converted into a bell tower by the Christians. There is no denying the beauty of the Gothic architecture, but I found the opulent use of precious metals inside a little excessive. What was particularly interesting to see, though, was the tomb of Christopher Columbus, held aloft by four intricately carved figures representing the ancient kingdoms of Spain.

Where we’re staying:-

https://www.booking.com/Share-37SyUc

We’ve moved apartments, which has probably been one of our easiest moves since we started travelling. Our small place is just a stone’s throw from our last, along the promenade, which means we’ve also managed to hold onto our little daily routine for a bit longer. We’re now on the eleventh (and top) floor, with a great little sun terrace that works just as well for bracing early morning exercise as it does for hiding away from the strong onshore winds that have arrived. The views across the bay and along the coastline in both directions are really quite something.

We had planned to move from Almería to Granada to spend a week there, but that was before I saw the forecast. The binary weather report didn’t look promising, and neither of us has the wardrobe for it, nor are we quite ready for the cold. So, we’re staying put for a while longer.

Since we had another weekend here, we decided to look in on Mark, a friend from the Bahamas who also helped me out with a car when he left. I haven’t seen him since I left the islands nearly thirty years ago. He’s been in Spain for many years now and is living with his partner Pablo just outside Málaga. We arranged to meet for lunch in Nerja, which is just over an hour and a half from Almería.

It’s funny how, when you haven’t seen someone for a long time, you wonder how you’ll find them again. But more often than not, it’s how you left them that determines where you pick things up. That seemed to be the case for both of us. The meal was okay, as was Nerja, but it was really good to see Mark again and to meet Pablo. Rachel and I both enjoyed a moment of quiet nostalgia as we made our way back along the coast.

The weather has now shifted. Gone are the calm seas and still air, replaced with strong winds and rough water. Our final swim of the year came on November 23rd, and since then we’ve made way for the kite surfers and surfers who’ve taken over the bay. It’s hard to believe after six weeks of near-perfect conditions. A couple of nights of heavy rain have swept away the last of the warmth, leaving us with cool evenings and crisp mornings. I’m still in shorts, though, as we continue our walks along the promenade.

I’d already bought our bus tickets to Granada, followed by the high-speed train to Seville, which ruled out a direct flight. With move day upon us, we headed to the bus station with our luggage safely stowed and boarded the bus to Granada. It was a painless two-hour journey.

Granada was cold, and we could already see the snow dusted across the Sierra Nevada mountains. We had an hour to get to the train station. The ride only took about ten minutes by taxi, but the challenge was actually finding one. After cancelling my Uber, we eventually flagged one down and made it to the busy station, where a long queue of passengers was waiting. What we didn’t realise was that all passengers had to pass through full security checks and luggage screening. With just a few minutes to spare, we made it through, found our carriage, and slumped into our seats.

https://www.airbnb.com/l/CUEApMO0

We set off in the direction of Granada at about 8.30 a.m., as we had an 11 a.m. slot to view the palace. Visitor numbers are strictly controlled, and if you are even a minute late, you are turned away. We had booked the slot a couple of weeks earlier, and even then there were only a few places left. It is incredibly popular all year round, but this time of year the light is much better in the morning.

Waze told me it would take around two hours. After negotiating the morning traffic leaving Almería, the final ninety minutes were not too challenging, although the car repeatedly told me I needed to take a nap. With road improvements underway, both directions of traffic were pushed onto the same side of the motorway with temporary lanes, which clearly confused the car.

We parked in the designated area and walked to the nearest entrance to the palace, which turned out to be the furthest point from the car park. We had been told that the queues at the main entrance could be long, so using the “backdoor” was the better option. After showing our tickets and passports, which although a nuisance to carry I think is a sensible requirement, we made it through with only minutes to spare. After another passport check, we entered the Nasrid Palace.

We have seen many Arabic palaces, all impressive in their own way, and this one was no exception. The Nasrid dynasty was the last Muslim dynasty to rule the Iberian Peninsula, governing the Emirate of Granada for more than 250 years. During that time, they created this remarkable palace complex. There is none of the superficial finery you see in more modern palaces. Here, the beauty lies in the structures themselves: the honeycomb ceilings, the intricate plasterwork, and the geometric mosaics. What I always find intriguing about Islamic architecture is how the detail, although elaborate, remains grounded in simplicity. The walls speak through poems and verses from the Koran, as a guide once told me.

I also love the central courtyards, where water is used everywhere to create a sense of calm. Several smaller palaces surround the main one, accommodating courtiers and the everyday workings of the kingdom. Together, they make up the palatial section of the Moorish complex. The less ornate Renaissance palace of Charles V sits outside this area, but its circular courtyard is very impressive.

No palace complex of this scale would be complete without a fortress. The Alcazaba is the oldest part of the site, dating back to the 9th century, and its ramparts provide commanding views across Granada.

Alongside all these structures is the equally beautiful Generalife, a series of tiered gardens created for the Nasrid rulers as a place for reflection and contemplation. You feel completely at peace wandering through a mixture of manicured and wilder gardens, where the ever-present sound of water feeds the atmosphere of calm. The views back across to the main complex are perfect.

If I had to choose between the buildings and the gardens, I think I would choose the gardens.

We’ve slipped effortlessly into a routine that suits us just fine. It starts with some exercise while surveying the horizon and watching the boats drift across it. Then it’s a short walk about twenty metres across the promenade and the beach and into the sea for a good swim. So far, the sea has been pretty flat, which helps. What’s also interesting is that it feels like swimming through an aquarium. From one end of the bay to the other, it’s teeming with small fish, which only adds to the enjoyment.

There are plenty of coffee shops along the promenade, and we’re lucky that the one we like best is directly beneath our apartment. Perfect, really. We’re staying in the more established part of town, which some might say is a little less polished, but it’s full of character. It’s also a great spot for people-watching. Early in the day, you see people out running or walking. There’s a cycle lane that runs the length of the promenade, and as with most of Spain, cycling is very much part of the culture. In the evenings, the area becomes more family-oriented, with children playing and groups strolling along the front.

It’s about a twenty five minute walk into the town centre. We haven’t spent much time there yet, but we did get a chance to explore the Alcazaba, a large Moorish fortress built in the mid-10th century. It’s the largest Arab-style citadel in Spain and offers incredible views across Almería and out to the coast.

Keen to go off exploring, we picked up a rental car and headed out of Almería. Our first stop was San José, a place Rachel wanted to check out as a possible next stop. From there, we continued along the eastern coastline and into the Cabo de Gata national park, a striking and somewhat strange landscape shaped by ancient volcanic activity. Our destination was La Isleta del Moro, a quiet coastal village with a small beach, a few fishing boats, and a very good restaurant. We waited a good few hours to get in, but it was worth it. There’s not much else there, but that was part of the charm.

We had both wanted to visit the Alhambra, but didn’t realise that it requires booking around two weeks in advance to get full access. A bit of a disappointment, but Rachel, always keen to salvage a situation, had been really taken with the Cabo de Gata and had found something else. Not far from where we were staying is Europe’s only true desert, the Tabernas. It’s not a huge area, but if, like me, you grew up watching Spaghetti Westerns like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, A Fistful of Dollars, and the rest, then it holds a certain pull. All those films were shot in the Tabernas, at a location that today has been turned into a kind of theme park called “Mini Hollywood.”

As the story goes, when the film companies pulled out, a couple of security guards were hired to watch over the sets. They soon realised the site’s appeal, and eventually managed to get the investment to turn it into the attraction it is today. Now, I’m not a fan of theme parks at all, but the connection to those films, and Rachel’s promise that I’d be able to see the cemetery used in that final scene from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, was enough to get me there. That scene gave my brother nightmares for years.

The park includes other attractions, but we were only really interested in the film sets and memorabilia. To be fair, it’s been well looked after. There’s definitely still a presence there, a kind of lingering energy from all those stories played out in front of the cameras. I wasn’t sure about the live reenactment, but the Can-can show in “The Yellow Rose” saloon was entertaining we both left feeling nostalgic and glad we’d gone.

As for the cemetery, Rachel had that part wrong. The actual set is up in the north of the country, but it didn’t matter. Not really.

As it was getting to San Sebastián, so it was leaving. I explored many options, none of which were particularly straightforward. So rather than drop the car off at a neighbouring airport, we had decided on a road trip. That way, we didn’t have to carefully pack everything, go through the usual airport rigmarole, or stress about timings. Instead, we could throw everything into the car and take in the country as we drove north to south through the middle of Spain.

We decided to have breakfast in the city, which involved removing a couple of layers of paint from the car door to squeeze into a parking space that clearly wasn’t quite wide enough, hey ho. It was Spain’s National Day and the city was buzzing with people, all milling around in good spirits. Sitting outside and people-watching is always interesting. We were both a little reflective as we left San Sebastián. It had been great seeing friends, but this was also right up there as some of the best food we’ve had on our travels. We later found out that San Sebastián has the most Michelin star restaurants per square metre in Europe, which makes perfect sense.

Because the trip would take about eleven hours in total, we broke it up. The first leg took us through the beautiful, leafy, mountainous Basque region. With the leaves already beginning to show their autumn colours and the roads relatively empty, the drive was a real pleasure. Around three hours in, we pulled into a service station to refuel and change drivers. Rachel, who doesn’t drive often but enjoys it when she does, took over for the section through Madrid and on to our halfway stop in Aranjuez. We figured it would be better to stay on the other side of the capital, just in case the traffic was heavy the next day.

Over breakfast, I had booked a hotel that was once a residential palace. It looks out over the fabulous Royal Palace of Aranjuez. After parking and checking in, we walked across the road and into the palace grounds. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this stop, but I certainly wasn’t prepared for the scale or beauty of what we found. It turns out the site began as a royal hunting lodge, but over the centuries it was developed into a springtime retreat. The Bourbons later expanded it to accommodate courtiers and guests, aiming to rival Versailles. The result is an interesting blend of architectural styles, both inside and out, with a mix of formal gardens, tree-lined walkways and mazes. We really loved it.

After a full day of driving, we found a local restaurant for dinner, then crashed out. The following morning, after a short walk into town for coffee, we started the second leg of the trip down to Almería. As we left Aranjuez, the landscape began to shift. We drove through the central plains, not as green or lush as the north, perhaps not helped by the rain we hit along the way. Eventually we made it through the weather and into the south of the country, where the scenery changed again. Row after row of olive trees appeared, and then we entered Andalucía. The land became much drier and dustier, framed by the jagged peaks of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

After a drive of around 1000 kilometres in total, we finally arrived in Almería and found our somewhat quirky apartment. It’s comfortable and sits right on the beach, with a perfect swim spot just outside the door.

https://www.airbnb.com/l/zt6pilPx