Barcelona – 10 Top Experiences

Parc Guell Barcelona cr Judy DarleyThink of Barcelona, and what comes to mind? It’s one of those cities that’s far larger than itself, with a personality and reputation so distinct that long before you walk the streets paved with art (literally, thanks to the likes of Joan Miro), spied the towering twisted of Sagrada Familia or breathed in the air at Barcelona FC, you’re likely to have a pretty firm impression of what you’re in for.

But how much will that impression match up to reality?

Well, that all depends on when you visit, your mood, the tourists and locals you encounter. Because each day in Barcelona is different, and every alleyway, road and cable car leads to a new experience. You’re bound to come up with your own, but for now here are my top ten.

1 Listen to the song of the Palau Nacional

The beautiful Palau Nacional houses the MNAC, the Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya. As you enter the museum you’ll find a flight of stairs leading up to the roof terrace, offering sweeping views over Plaça d’Espanya and the city beyond. Hang about a bit and you’ll hear the haunting murmur of the wind creeping through crevasses and around the turrets – as though the angel perched on top is uttering a lament in the voice of the sea.

Ciutadella Park boating lake cr Judy Darley

2 Go boating at Parc de la Ciutadella

Along with the parrots, pigeons and tourists, the locals flock to this large leafy park on weekends and bank holidays. It’s a big enough space to ensure it never feels crowded, and there’s a great little boating lake where you can row to your heart’s content. Just don’t fall in – that water is a worryingly vivid shade of green!

Montjuic cable car cr Judy Darley

3 Travel by cable car

What better way to see the city, and scale the heights of Montjuïc? Recently refurbished, it’s a lovely way to swoop 84.5 metres over the inclines of Montjuïc and take in the views over the port from the top of the hill. It costs around €10, so not too pricey either.

Sardines cr Judy Darley4 Sample some local cuisine

Everyone says it, and it’s true, the tapas and pinxos are to die for. The seafood, like these beheaded sardines, are highlights, as are the salty fried Padron peppers. Save room for dessert – the turron ice cream is the perfect end to any meal.

5 Cuddle up to some art

A rotund little fella stands outside the Fundacio Joan Miró and he’s definitely friendly. Venture inside to see the great artist’s sculptures, paintings and remarkable tapestries, mostly named Bird, Woman or Woman and Bird.

Sagrada Familia bougainvillea cr Judy Darley6 Gorge on Gaudi

Even if you can’t face the hours of waiting to get inside, hop off the tourist bus at Sagrada Familia to ogle the extraordinary neverending story of Gaudi’s masterpiece. Each façade has different points of interest, and the cranes themselves add to the striking scenes. I couldn’t resist photographing the builders too – thanks to Gaudi’s legacy they’re now part of something remarkable.

Parc Guell The Dragon cr Judy Darley

Talking of Gaudi, of course you need to visit Parc Güell. Yes, it’s crowded, yes, the toilets are horrible, but the setting and the many glories from the Greek Theatre (aka the Nature Square, pictured at the top of this post) to the sweet dribbling dragon, make this all worthwhile.

Then there’s the Casa Batlló and Casa Milà aka La Pedrera, and numerous other Gaudi bits and pieces to enjoy.

7 Walk la Rambla de Mar

Once you’ve experienced La Rambla (keeping a tight grip on your belongings) keep going until you pass onto the Rambla de Mar, a bridge that stretches out onto Maremagnum, a leisure complex with shops, restaurants and cinemas. On busy days the press of people will force you to take your time. I recommend pausing at one of the seats to enjoy views over the water and of the Stargazers, two white buoys topped by skywards-facing figures by Robert Llimós.

Poet and playwright Pitarra cr Judy Darley8 Seek out something literary

There are no shortage of literary haunts in Barcelona, where you can listen to up and coming poets and writers share their work – and possibly even have the chance to perform your own. The city also offers up plenty of statues and monuments to poets, including this one of Pitarra, a poet and playwright from Barcelona, set just off La Rambla beside La Plaça del Teatre. For a more romantic literary homage, head back to Montjuïc where each of the gardens is named after a poet who wrote in Catalan.

Dragon Without Saint George by Andres Nagel cr Judy Darley9 Play ‘spot the art’

Okay, a pretty easy one, as artwork crops up all over the city – even children’s slides are works of art in Barcelona. This one by Andrés Nagel is called Dragon Without Saint George, and sits close to the Barcelona’s Sants railway station.

The Communications Tower Bacelona cr Judy Darley10 Gaze at an immense Olympic flame

… or rather, a communications tower designed to represent an athlete carrying the iconic flame. This one caught me by surprise. While the height of the tower means you spy it from afar, it’s only when you enter Barcelona’s Olympic Stadium that you grasp the sheer scale and majesty of Santiago Calatrava’s creation.

Find more Barcelona highlights at barcelonaturisme.com.

Discover Budapest.
Discover Bath.
Discover Brescia.
Discover Laugharne.
Discover Bilbao.
Discover Brescia.
Discover Reyjavik.

Home from home – Quintinha de São João

Quintinha de Sao Joao cr Judy DarleyEntering Estalagem Quintinha de São João feels more like coming home than checking into a hotel. Located on a discreet side street close to the center of Madeira’s capital city, Funchal, the hotel has the air of the home of friends with impeccable taste, a sense that’s enhanced by the warm welcome from the reception staff. The fact that there are only 43 rooms adds to this further, so that by the time you walk into yours, you’ll feel like part of the family.

This is the perfect place to relax between bouts of sightseeing, with spacious balconies overlooking the rooftop pool, gardens and surrounding hillsides. The pool opens early, so an early swim is a great wake up, followed by the sumptuous breakfast served in the A Morgadinha restaurant.

Quintinha de Sao Joao pool cr Judy Darley

 

If you prefer more privacy, arrange to have croissants, cereals, fruit and coffee brought to your room, and sprawl on the sofa while you wait for the caffeine to kick in. Each room has a spacious living area, while suites have separate living and bedrooms with a balcony opening out from each so you can choose where to relax. You can have a masseuse come to your room, or visit the hotel’s spa with three treatment rooms plus jacuzzis, a sauna and hamman steam bath.

If you don’t make it out of the hotel, there are plenty of shady corners in the garden, as well as comfortable nooks with fat armchairs, tables and sofas where you can read, plug in your laptop and catch up with a spot of writing, or scribble long overdue postcards.

In the evening, sample cocktails in the Vasco da Gama bar, or ask General Manager André Barreto to have a romantic meal served to you in the gardens beneath an arbor of sweetly scented jasmine blooms. By the time the stars come out, you may have decided never to leave.

Quintinha de Sao Joao jasmine cr Judy Darley

Laments in Lisbon

iew of Lisbon from St George's Castle, LisbonA hush falls as an elegantly dressed woman stalks among the crowded tables, coming to a halt into the centre of the room. A guitar is gently strummed, then the laments begin.

I sit in near-darkness in a room crammed with Portuguese Fado aficionados, all listening intently. Not a single fork scrapes against a single plate. I haven’t experienced Fado before. Part of me was expecting something akin to the explosiveness of Spanish Flamenco, but Portugal’s national song is far more contemplative. I don’t understand the words, but the sentiment is clear, and shivers race up and down my spine.

“Fado translates as fate,” Carmo tells me when the performance ends. “Many of the songs are about beloveds who never returned home from sea.”

Tram, Lisbon cr Judy DarleyI’ve only been in Lisbon a matter of days, but the area around Clube de Fado, the Alfama district, is already one of my favourites. When we return in the morning, only a little the worse for wear, Carmo reminds me that it survived the great earthquake of 1755, so retains a sense of the small city as it would have been long before then, with washing hanging haphazardly between wrought iron balconies and steep, narrow streets. “Many homes here still don’t have their own bathrooms,” she comments, an note that could equally be horror or pride in her voice.

The streets are stacked one above the other another, giving the impression they were built in haste, yet it’s hard to imagine anything here ever being done in a hurry – even the trams amble like commuter-crammed caterpillars.

There’s a curious beauty about the Alfama, with some of the houses beautifully tiled. Most feature at least one small painted tile paying homage to a saint, and keeping the homeowners’ family safe from harm. This is a place where fate is taken seriously – anything you can do to safeguard your family is done.

Castelo de Sao Jorge, Lisbon cr Judy Darley

Above all this sits Castelo de São Jorge, where we wander through dappled sunlight and drink in panoramic views that showcase the city like a painted tableau. Despite the tourists, it is peaceful here – people murmur as they pose beside cannons, and cameras whir gently. Terracotta roofs are stacked above creamy buildings, and the strong, rectangular towers of churches rise above all else.

Far to my left I glimpse a crimson bridge that seems oddly familiar. “It was designed by the same company as San Francisco’s iconic Golden Gate bridge,” Carmo says.

Ah, that explains it. The river it spans is the Tagus, a thread of water that broadens at times into an estuary lake so wide it resembles a sea, yet it narrows as it nears the sea – seeming reluctant to leave.

It’s an impulse I can relate to. I wonder how Portugal‘s explorers could bring themselves to head out to the unknown, knowing they might never make it safely home.

“This is my favourite place in Lisbon,” Carmo says, eyes half closing in bliss. “You know, don’t you, that the city was founded by Ulysses?”

I ask her to repeat herself. Surely Ulysses, the one I’m thinking of, is a fictional hero.

She shrugs, either uncertain or not caring. “I like to imagine him standing here on this hillside and saying, yes, this is good, this is home.”

Discover Barcelona.

Bergamo – a fairytale town

Bergamo in mist cr Judy DarleyBergamo is a town that feels made up – almost too dreamy to be true. Located in the Lombardy region of northern Italy between Milan and Venice, its ancient medieval cobblestone streets wind through lanes that could lead anywhere, to another land even…

We arrive on a late winter’s day when curling mist isolates the town in swathes of white.

“You have to imagine,” our guide keeps saying, “You have to imagine, from here you usually can see the mountains – such extraordinary views.”

Above Città Alta, the upper town, stands a ruined fortress surrounded by exquisite memorial gardens, the Parco Della Rocca, which, we imagine as instructed, will be filled with somnolent Italians in summertime, the scent of the eucalyptus trees hanging heavy in the air.

The ancient streets below host churches built in gratitude for the townspeople’s survival of the 16th-century plague epidemic that ravaged northern Italy, as immortalised in Alessandro Manzoni’s novel The Betrothed.

One of the finest of these buildings is the pink, white and black marble Santa Maria Maggiore basilica, guarded by two stone lions. The interior is an explosion of Baroque ornamentation, interspersed with statues and tapestries telling the story of Our Lady.

Santa Maria Magiore lion cr Judy Darley

“You have to imagine,” our guide tells us, “that most people could not read in the 13th century. So the stories of the bible were told through pictures, in embroideries, tapestries and frescos.”

A grand example of this is the tomb of composer Gaetano Donizetti, with carvings of seven crying children breaking instruments, representing the notes that would no longer wish to sing now that their master was dead.

Every surface of the basilica’s interior is crammed with symbolism, mythology and poetry, a visual testament to the many writers who’ve fallen in love with this small town over the centuries. Visitors have included 14th-century Italian poet Francesco Petrarch, 19th-century French writer Stendhal, Hermann Hesse, winner of the 1946 Nobel Prize in Literature, and, of course, Hemmingway, who seems to have spent time in anywhere worth visiting in Europe.

We eat lunch at Restaurant Giopì e la Margì, where the chef serves up traditional dishes such as minced meats wrapped in cabbage, polenta with anchovy or salami, thin slices of cured veal, oven-baked venison, and, most delicious of all, wild mushrooms layered with fresh cream and translucent leaves of the thinnest pasta.

We spend the night at the Mercure in the Città Basso, the lower town, and in the morning I draw back my curtains to see the pinnacles of towers emerging from the mist-like clouds, ochre-coloured sandstone house stacked against the hills.

Land of the angels

After breakfast we set off for Azienda Agricola Tenuta Degli Angeli, quite literally Land of the Angels. Set on a steep mountainside rising from the Calepio Valley, this vineyard is a family business producing wine, balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

Azienda Agricola Tenuta degli Angeli olive trees cr Judy Darley

The vineyard was started by Pierangelo Testa in 1984 and has since passed into the care of his daughters Roberta, Laura and Maria. Roberta leads us through the vineyard past the twisting trunks of olive trees and crab apple trees, where vast field mushrooms spring from the thick, green grass hinting at the fertility of the place.

It seems like an idyllic place to spend an afternoon, whether you’re helping to pick fruit or sitting on a bench admiring the views and capturing a few thoughts on paper.

Once we’ve admired the scenery, Roberto takes us into the wine cellar to see the stacks of wine bottles, then into the storage area for balsamic vinegar. A rich aroma like baked raisins fills the air, and here and there the syrup has oozed from the barrels down the stone walls leaving a sticky black residue.

“You can really feel the smell of the vinegar in summer,” Roberta says, showing us the barrels corked when she and each of her siblings were born.

“My father gave me the barrels for my year when I married.”

It may seem like an unromantic wedding gift, but when she lets us taste a teaspoonful of the first balsamic vinegar her father made, all of 36 years ago, it makes perfect sense. Layers of flavour spreads over my tongue, sweet and savoury at the same time, rich and thick like the finest honey with a hint of fruitcake, astonishing in its complexity and nothing like the vinegar we use as salad dressing in the UK.

At lunchtime we eat a simple yet divine meal of fresh bread, grana cheese, olives, nutty green olive oil, chestnut honey, and jams made from grapes and citronella. It’s clear with each mouthful that quality takes precedence over quantity here.

“We prefer to stay small,” Roberto says. “Our main income is from making cement manufacturing, so we can concentrate on excellence with the vinegar.”

It’s an interesting thought – this family have found a way to balance their lives by nurturing vines on one side and manufacturing cement on the other, just as so many of us exist sandwiched somewhere between creativity and pragmatism, as though one cannot survive without the other.

Azienda Agricola Tenuta degli Angeli dog

But this is too heavy a contemplation for such a delicious meal – beyond which church towers and donkeys, a giant bear-like dog and countless twisted olive trees loom out of the dispersing mist, and the sky is just beginning to turn a celestial blue.

Azienda Agricola Tenuta degli Angeli vineyard views cr Judy Darley

Tales of Tunisia

Tunisian marketIn May 2011 I visited Tunisia and found a country still reeling from its revolution.

It’s a complex place, Tunisia – a country where the locals describe themselves as Mediterranean, yet the main religion is Muslim, and as many farmers keep camels as sheep. Tourism has overtaken agriculture as the main earner in recent years, transforming many coastal areas, particularly those in popular Hammamet, into spa and bar hotspots that could almost be anywhere on the Med, if it wasn’t for the elegant curling Tunisian script adorning street signs and shop fronts.

Tourism is often accused of diluting local flavour, but in the case of Hammamet, the dearth of visitors following the 2011 revolution may have helped restore it, to an extent. There’s enough exotic flavour here to bring to mind the stories of the Arabian Nights, with restaurants serving up meals while belly dancers perform like flocks of chiming butterflies. Continue reading

A wander through The Valley of the Butterflies, Rhodes

Greece, Rhodes, Valley of the Butterflies cr PROTOUR
One of the most beautiful places I’ve visited is the Valley of the Butterflies on the Greek isle of Rhodes. As part of a gap year, I was working as a shepherdess and staying with a farmer and his young family in the village of Theologos. Each day I would spend a few hours watching the sheep, daydreaming and dozing under the olive trees, then head off to the beach for more of the same, minus the sheep and plus a few waves.

I had one day off each week, giving me the chance to head out to Rhodes town to catch a ferry to one of the nearby islands. But I’d heard about the Valley of the Butterflies and was keen to see what it was. I could have caught the bus to Rhodes Town and then another bus out to the valley, but Theologos is set almost halfway between Rhodes Town and my destination, so when my host advised me that it’s an easy stroll, it made sense just to walk it.

Greece, Rhodes, Valley of the Butterflies cr Greek National Tourism OrganisationI set off at 9am, trekking along sun-blasted roads in the rising heat. When I finally reached the natural park, it was like arriving at an oasis. It was only early June, so there weren’t the mass of Jersey tiger moths (Re the misnomer, I guess Valley of the Moths just didn’t sound so appealing!) swarming in the Petaloudes valley that you get later in the summer, but there were still enough to give the gorge an otherworldly feel, and the tourists were also in low numbers, which made it far more atmospheric.

If you want to get the full impact of the invasion, come in July or August when more than a million moths will have arrived to feast on pine resin before copulating and laying their eggs. Quite a sight to behold! On the downside this is also when crowds of the tourists visit, diminishing the tranquility of the place.

Personally, I think May or June are the better times to visit – sure, you’ll miss out on the clouds of copulating moths, but the valley will be far, far greener. You’ll have much of the park to yourself and will be able to wander around the shady forest paths to your heart’s content, enjoying the mist drifting from the many waterfalls and crossing the log bridges at your own pace, not the pace of the people behind you.

Find out more at www.rodosisland.gr.

Many thanks to PROTOUR and the Greek National Tourism Organisation for supplying these images.

Greece, Rhodes, Valley of the Butterflies cr PROTOUR1

Amsterdam: From A to B and beyond

Singel canal with bikes, AmsterdamThe following extract is part of one of my travel features, and can be read in full at easyJet.

Arriving in Amsterdam is a bit like accidentally stepping on an anthill. You emerge from the airport directly into a heaving train station with people rushing around in every direction, all seemingly knowing exactly where to go.

We stayed at The Double Tree by Hilton, a vast green construction with a cool glassy exterior and a modern interior of clean lines and high ceilings.

National Monument, AmsterdamThe hotel is perfectly placed for visiting Amsterdam’s highlights, from the Red Light District to the exceptional galleries and museums that burst from every corner. After dropping off our cases we made our way to Prinsengracht (the Prince’s Canal), admiring the grand, if admittedly rather phallic, National Monument as we crossed Dam Square.

Prinsengracht is the perfect place to while away an afternoon, with easygoing bars frequented by locals, and the restaurant Envy, where we feasted on a multitude of small dishes such as Dutch oysters, North Sea crab salad, fried pork belly and an array of Dutch cheeses. Continue reading

Imperceptible beasts

Borneo green viperWe meet outside the hotel after lunch, fortified and ready for our jungle walk. Marion, the Swiss girl, has only flipflops on her feet. Her ballet pumps had been so covered with bat and swiftlet guano at the Gomantong Caves that she’d had to throw them away.

Joseph, our diminutive guide, arrives wearing rubber boots.

“Will these be all right?” asks Marion, pointing to her feet.

He smiles, nods. “Yes, ok.”

Joseph leads the way across a field, up a steep track. The air is heavy, sweating with heat. Plants curl and twist all around, threatening to trip us.

Myne Resort jungle hikeFollowing Joseph, resting our faith on his knowledge of this corner of Borneo, we cross an insubstantial rope-and-plank bridge over ravine that may once have held a stream. We clamber up the uneven hillside as fast as we can, trying to match Joseph’s pace.

At last the lookout point comes into view and he gestures for us to climb the steps. In that moment we know it’s been worth it. Before us is spread the Kinabatangan River – a slick brown horseshoe surrounded by dense greenery where proboscis monkeys, stork-billed kingfishers, pygmy elephants live out their days. Here and there scarring can be seen in the landscape – signs of the encroaching palm oil industry’s approach.

The journey back down the hill is somehow more challenging than the ascent, as we struggle through ruts of mud, never daring to look out for wildlife in case we stumble, fell.

We reach the shores of the Kinabatangan, where Joseph suddenly halts, points. A vast lizard, a water monitor, slides into the river and disappears. He points again.

“What can you see?” whispers Brian, from Australia.

Joesph nods, smiles: “Yes, ok,” then grasps Brian’s hand sharply as he reaches forward, trying to figure out what Joseph’s spotted. Our eyes suddenly focus, revealing the vivid green viper wrapped around a branch. Invisible as all Borneo’s creatures seem to be, until, perhaps, you’re ready to see them.

Slavonia: the undiscovered corner of Croatia

River Danube, CroatiaThe following extract is part of one of my travel features, and can be read in full at Travelbite.com.

That night we stayed at Hotel Dunav, an exquisite family-run hotel set on the shores of the River Danube – Dunav in Croatian. With its own sandy beach, a multitude of outdoor seating and even its own pleasure cruiser, this is a popular spot for vast wedding and Christening parties, as well as providing a tranquil getaway. I woke shortly after dawn and meandered along the riverbank in the early light, watched by a flock of crows that flapped their way from tree to tree as I passed.

Ilok city walls

From here it’s just a short journey into Ilok, Croatia’s easternmost town (pictured above), with 1km of intact medieval walls, a lovely old stone church and a state-of-the-art museum, one of the few in Slavonia with displays in English as well as Croatian, overlooking the river to Serbia. Continue reading