Islas Cíes: the Best Beach in Europe

I’m following a steep trail through enormous gum trees. Every few steps a red butterfly or scurrying lizard catches my eye. The air is fresh and were it not for the glimpses of turquoise water between the trees, it would be easy to believe I'm in a large forest. I’m starting to break a sweat.

Though the UK may still be grey and miserable, there’s a tiny slice of the Caribbean on the continent, and somehow I managed to find it.

You could be forgiven for thinking Praia das Rodas (the main beach on the island) was somewhere in the tropics.

As I round a corner, suddenly I’m aware of the sun beating down on my shoulders. The path continues to climb upwards until I’m higher than the tops of the gum trees I was walking through.

To my left, I can see another of the Cíes islands. Ahead of me lies my reward: the lighthouse at the highest point on the island.

The other island to my left.

My goal: the lighthouse.

About half an hour later, I arrive. And what a sight.

After soaking in the rugged magnificence of this spot for as long as I can, I start to feel like I could shout without a soul hearing me. So I do.

Back at the campground in time for sunset.

I discovered Islas Cíes quite deliberately. I wanted to spend my birthday on the most beautiful unblemished beach in Europe. I thought I’d end up somewhere in the Mediterranean. But The Guardian told me in its list of the best beaches in the world to come here, in rugged northern Spain.

Seeking to balance a spate of city breaks, I was thrilled to learn that the only accommodation on the island was in the campground. I bought a cheap tent from Amazon and dutifully paid the Ryanair excess baggage fees to cart it to the island.

You wouldn't know this photo was taken after 9pm.

Food on the island comes from one of two restaurants which are a lot like the serveries from school camp. There are no English translations so the menu felt like a food lottery. I stared wistfully at others’ paella, Spanish omelettes and sausage platters and hoped that the unknown dish I requested would be one of those.

Unfortunately whatever I ordered was Spanish for “two McChicken patties and a side of fries”. You live and you learn!

There are several gorgeous beaches on the island, and the next day I spent a pleasant afternoon walking around the rocks to find a small cove I could have entirely to myself.

Praia das Figueiras, near the little cove I found for myself.

I really had to pinch myself when we were leaving. I felt like I’d spent my birthday in paradise. And the highlight was definitely sitting on the edge of a flat rock on the highest point, with the sun warming my back and the wind teasing me to jump.

Islas Cíes will always feel like my personal secret – a special place where solitude enables the kind of personal reflection that opens a new chapter in your life. It’s so much more than a beach holiday.

A Weekend in Barcelona

I think it was the smoothest weekender we've ever been on. The weather forecast was thunderstorms, but it didn't rain at all. We didn't get lost, the plane left on time, and we really loved everything about the wonderful city of  Barcelona.

It was about 11:30pm when we arrived in the centre of town, and the atmosphere was electric. We'd planned to take the metro, but when we saw how vibrant the streets around us were, we chose to walk without even exchanging words.

Before we knew it, we were sitting at an outdoor table drinking an enormous, refreshing jug of sangria (each!) in the middle of main street; La Rambla.

On a high from our great start, we got up early the next morning and explored Las Ramblas - the bohemian sidestreets off the main thoroughfare. Everything seemed to fit perfectly into place. We were thirsty, and suddenly there appeared the most wonderful juice bar. Heaven!

A few hours and two cathedrals later, we arrived at Gaudi's La Pedrera. The architecture and the rooftop centurions made me feel like I'd fallen into a Dr Seuss book.

From the rooftop, we could see back to his most famous work, and Barcelona's most popular attraction, the Sagrada Família, which is we're we'd just walked from. Unfortunately for our photographs, after over 100 years of building it's still far from finished and is very much under construction!

from the roof of  La Pedrera, with Sagrada Família in the distance. 

 From there, another short walk to my favourite of Gaudi's buildings: Casa Battlo.

It's no mistake that the blue scaled roof seems dragonlike: the entire concept is based on St George and the dragon.

On a high for more art, we walked to the Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art, and sat riveted to a Bosnian film about the war in Sarajevo for over an hour.

When we left, we found ourselves in one of the funkiest, most bohemian streets I've ever seen. Though barely 100m long, we passed no less than three talented street artists etching their intricate portraits for the benefit of passers-by.

Soon afterwards, we stumbled across a lively market - the best I've seen in Europe. We bought far too many eclectic chocolates and gorged ourselves on them back at the hostel.

 

After barely 20 mins recharging at the hostel, we were back out. This time to experience some live Flamenco at El Patio Andaluz. It wasn't the authentic Spanish flamenco experience we were hoping for... rather more touristy than that... but still a talented group of dancers and musicians.

The 'star' of the show is Jesus Cortes. A man with hair like Sandra Bullock who we're told has danced for Oprah. It obviously went to his head because his diva vibe was a complete mood killer.

Twice he mumbled loudly in Catalan to the musicians or back-up dancers, prompting embarrassed looks from everyone else on stage. Thankfully, he was Streisand enough to wait nearly an hour before appearing, do three dances in a row, and then leave. We were glad when he did. Though undeniably gifted, his overestimation of his own magnetism was unpleasant and the temperature went back up several degrees after he was gone.

Yes, this is the best photo we got of Jesus Cortes.
The promo flyer photo was dreadful too. It never occurred to us that it was an accurate depiction!

The next morning we wandered into another cathedral - Santa Maria del Mar - on our way to the Picasso museum.

The rose window at Santa Maria del Mar.

Looking up from one of the courtyards at the Picasso museum.

Heading back up to the main part of town, we happened across the coolest street act I've ever seen: Microguagua. A harmonising Spanish reggae group who manage to play the trombone, trumpet, double bass, drums, and two guitars while singing and dancing. We were sucked right in and bought their CD.

From the centre of town, it's only a half hour trip to the summit of Tibidabo; the mountain behind Barcelona. It has a full theme park on top, as we discovered when we arrived.

It also boasts an enormous cathedral.

Looking up to, and inside, the cathedral on the summit of Tibidabo.

For just 2€ you can climb to the top of the cathedral and experience breathtaking panoramic views of the entire city of Barcelona. I would highly recommend it to anyone visiting.

One of the stone saints overlooking a town behind Tibidabo.

The last thing we did before leaving Barcelona was head to the beach at Marbella, where I had what I expect will be my last swim of the year. It was icy but wonderful. I was the only swimmer because the waves were so powerful.

I swam for nearly half an hour, until I got bent in half by an enormous wave that also managed to graze my chest along the sand. But it was worth it!

I've been to a lot of wonderful places this year. Barcelona is easily among the best.

Life Lesson #33 - Delayed Off

Navigating the backstreets of a Spanish island in a manual hatchback with no map should be a recipe for disaster.

I was perplexed to rock up at the terminal hours early without so much as a missed turnoff. There was that gnawing feeling that something was about to go wrong.

EZ8634 - DELAYED.
They put it in red so you can't miss it. I'm already through security, and luckily I had the foresight to swap my sandy jandals and damp togs for fresh clothes in the handicapped loo.

NEW BOARDING TIME - 01:20.
The original flight time was already a stretch. "Will we be ok at work if we get in at 2am?", I remember asking Paul. Then, a month ago easyJet bumped the flight back another hour. "How about 3am?" I said in a slightly high pitched voice when I got the email.

And now this - a delay of almost three further hours. Paul asks when we'll get home. I do the maths, factor in the hourly train from Gatwick and the night bus to our place... "about 5:30am" I realise aloud.

EasyJet give us vouchers for the inconvenience. I get a Whopper Jr meal from BK. The guy thrusts the tray at me and I watch in slow motion as my Large Coke No Ice hurtles off the tray, landing Glee-style square in the centre of my formerly-fresh shirt.

He shrugs and hands me a single napkin.

Everything takes longer than they tell us it's going to. About eight hours, six queues, two airport buses, one shuttle, one train, a London bus, a brisk walk and a patdown later, we arrive home. It's almost six o'clock. The sky is lightening. I can hear birds I've never heard before.

A few short hours later, I arrive in the office before anyone else. Turns out my boss is stuck in New York, after his week long trip was trampled all over by an earthquake and a hurricane. He's in JFK with thousands of other stranded travelers and has no idea when he'll be home.

I decide that my night really wasn't so bad, and head to the coffee machine.

My chest is still sticky.

A Weekend in Majorca

We took our little suitcases with us to work on Friday, and just hours after the long weekend began we were in the air.

Sunset as we approached the coast of France was so vivid it looked like a lava explosion.

Majorca is a Spanish island in the Mediterranean. It's a two and a half hour flight from Luton airport which takes you directly over Barcelona.

We're staying in the big smoke: Palma. This is a case of you-don't-know-where-to-stay-until-you've-been. Though our hotel is lovely, with a great pool and friendly staff, the location is a lot more developed than we were hoping for.

Nonetheless, there are still some cool beaches nearby, and the next morning we set out exploring. We catch the #3 bus to the end of the line - Illetes. It's lovely, but very crowded.

Illetes - lovely but crowded.

We spend a good few hours there before heading into the city.

Palma is known for it's enormous Gothic cathedral. It's nothing short of magnificent.

The sky gets all moody at just the right moment.

After a quick but delicious gelato near the cathedral, we head to Es Baluard Museu - the Modern Art Gallery. Unusually for a modern art gallery, the building exudes history. I guess being a 16th century bastion will do that to a place! The exhibitions are well curated, and the space fascinating.

My favourite space is a Boltanski exhibition housed underground in the old water cistern; Signatures. It's the perfect space for it. The room is like half a cylinder, with the floor the only flat surface. It's smoky so you can't see the back of the room. stairs lead down from you, making you feel like you're on a shallow stage. The only light in the room is a series of old fashioned fluorescent light tubes fashioned into impenetrable shapes. You're not sure what you can hear at first - low, repetitive guttural sounds. Eventually you realise that it's a slowed down heartbeat.

When you leave the room, an assistant offers you the chance to become part of the exhibit by recording your own heartbeat. I did.

The cathedral in the distance as seen from the roof of Es Baluard.

We found a great Thai place for dinner. My dish was served in a pineapple!

Sunday we did very little, reading by the pool and planning the following day. Monday was to be special. We realised that we couldn't see Majorca properly from our accommodation and decided that the only way to get the side of the island we were hoping for was to hire a car and drive there. So, on Monday we did.

Compared to Palma, Es Trenc is deserted. We spend the entire day there, swimming, relaxing in the sun and reading. The water is the warmest I've ever felt. 

We did learn the hard way that the oldest, most overweight Spaniards enjoy swimming nude, but obstacles aside it was an incredible day.

About halfway along the 3km beach is a little hut where you can buy toasted sandwiches, paella and, most importantly, sangria.

At the end of the beach are a few abandoned luxury houses. It's the only sign of life here, and refreshing to see on an island so crammed with holiday resorts. I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Es Trenc managed to beat capitalism.

When Paul climbed the decrepit old concrete staircase I was worried he'd fall through the ceiling. But he soon gasped at the view. It may have smelt like urine, but the view was undeniably incredible.

We used the last of the daylight reading together on homemade chairs someone had put together out of bricks and large pieces of wood, then drove back to the airport to come home.

Day Three in Madrid: The Real Palacio

Drama at the hostel this morning when the owner arrived. We knew he was coming, because the guy who runs the place finally got around to checking us in (and taking our money) last night - our third. The owner was one of those slimy types who tried to charge us €4 just to leave our small bags in the back room for a few hours. We didn't stand for it.

The main thing on our agenda today was the Real Palais, which is the Spanish equivalent of Versailles, except it's right in the city.

I enjoyed it more than Versailles. Mainly because the crowds weren't as ferocious, so you could actually see stuff, but also because they have an armoury where you can see hundreds of suits of armour. The little boy in me absolutely loved it!

As we were leaving the armoury, the resident peacock even started showing off.

After the palace, we popped into the massive Catholic cathedral, then grabbed some tapas for lunch in a nearby cafe and headed to the airport.


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Day Two in Madrid: The Spanish Way

After the bedbug incident, I'm not really in the mood for an Art Gallery this morning. But, because it's the Reina Sofia, and they have Picasso's magnum opus, Guernica, I make the effort to be chipper.

The sculpture in the lobby is of a paintstroke. Paul fell in love and took about 100 photos.

The Reina Sofia was huge, and free because it's Sunday! We weren't so lucky at our next gallery, the Thyssen Bornemisza. Because they're a private collection they charge too much all the time. I decided not to go, as I felt I'd had my fill already from three enormous galleries in two days! Paul spent the afternoon there while I checked out the markets near our hostel.

In the evening, we made good on our promise to have proper tapas in Spain, and walked to La Latina, where there's a street of the cutest little Spanish tapas bars you ever saw. As we walked through Old Town, I finally felt like I was in Spain. The rest of Madrid is fairly non-descript, and could really be any modern city. But Old Town (and La Latina) couldn't be anywhere else, and I loved that.




We feasted on three tapas and drinks at three different bars. My favourite dish was like a potato quiche with a crunchy top that I plan to find a recipe for. And, since discovering them not so long ago, I've believed that a good caipiroska is one of life's best treats. And though they're mainly a South American drink, I can tell you that the Spanish make a great one! I love the the way the fruit is muddled, rather than blended, so it's like a cross between a cocktail and a fruit salad.




When we got home, there was a huge party at our hostel. It's totally that kind of place. Knowing we wouldn't be able to sleep (and not wanting to be reacquainted with the bedbugs too soon), we decided to join in and get to know the people in the hostel. It was worth it - by the time we got to bed (way too late, as per usual), we'd had a great night.


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