OF MICE AND raMEN

Aplec del Caragol Festival

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Thu, 21 May 2026 09:21:06 +0000

I spotted this giant snail at Restaurant Mussol.

At first I thought it was just quirky décor—but then I wondered if it hinted at something deeper in Catalan food culture. That curiosity led me to the Aplec del Caragol, a festival that takes place every year in late May.

For one weekend, the city transforms into a giant outdoor kitchen. Groups called colles gather to cook, eat, and celebrate snails in every imaginable way. What began as a small local get‑together has grown into a massive event, drawing more than 200,000 visitors and serving up around 12 tonnes of snails.

Whether or not that sculpture was meant to nod to the festival, it’s a fun reminder that even the smallest (and slowest) creatures can hold a surprisingly big place in a culture.

I’m tempted to add this to the travel list—snails and all. 🐌

image credit - Credit: Eloi Teixidó Fontova

image credit - https://www.aplec.org/

Calcada

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 16 May 2026 03:03:44 +0000

Everywhere I went in Portugal — especially in Lisbon — I found myself constantly looking down.

Not because there was something wrong with the road, but because the pavements were simply too beautiful to ignore.

Intricate waves, elegant rosettes, geometric patterns, even motifs of ships and stars — the streets themselves felt like works of art. It made me wonder: how did something as ordinary as a sidewalk become such an iconic part of Portuguese identity?

That curiosity led me to a delightful story.

Legend has it that Ganda the rhinoceros, gifted by the Sultan of Gujarat in India to King Manuel I in 1515 and one of the first rhinos seen in Europe in centuries, caused an enormous stir. The city treated him like royalty, parading him through the streets to the amazement of crowds. At the time, the roads were muddy and sludgy — and some say the desire to keep this extraordinary creature clean inspired early efforts at paving.

Whether fact or folklore, it’s a charming idea: that a rhinoceros may have played a small role in shaping the streets of Lisbon.

Calçada Portuguesa

Lisbon’s pavements — the Calçada Portuguesa — are made from thousands of hand-laid limestone and basalt stones. Each design reflects Portugal’s heritage, placed by skilled artisans called calceteiros. Walking here feels like stepping through history.

What makes Calçada so special isn’t just its beauty, but the craftsmanship behind it: designs conceived by artists and planners, then patiently brought to life stone by stone. It’s slow, meticulous work — a tradition passed down through generations.

A Craft Under Pressure

Like many traditional crafts, this one is in decline.

Where Lisbon once had around 400 calceteiros in the early 20th century, today only a fraction remain. Many are older, and fewer young people are taking up the trade.

At the same time, the pavements themselves face constant wear.

In busy areas such as Avenida da Liberdade, sections show damage from construction work, tree roots, missing stones, and quick asphalt repairs. These practical fixes often disrupt the original patterns and reduce the overall durability.

There’s also a more practical concern: while beautiful, these pavements can be uneven or slippery — especially when wet — leading to ongoing debates about safety and accessibility.

Preservation vs Practicality

Portugal now faces a delicate balancing act: how to preserve this cultural treasure while adapting it to modern needs.

There are encouraging efforts underway.

✨ The Art and Craftsmanship of Portuguese Cobblestone Pavement has been submitted for nomination to UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list.
✨ Training and awareness programs aim to attract a new generation of calceteiros and keep the craft alive.

And if you’re curious what happened to Ganda—well, the rhinoceros didn’t spend much time in Lisbon. Although he had been presented to King Manuel I, Ganda was always intended as a diplomatic gift for the Pope, and was soon sent onward to Italy.

On the journey, he made a stop in France, where the king was eager to see the extraordinary creature that had captivated all of Europe. But the voyage ended in tragedy. Just days later, the ship carrying him sank off the coast of Italy, and the poor rhino was lost to the depths of the Mediterranean Sea.

The Door of Forgiveness

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Tue, 12 May 2026 02:33:00 +0000

At the entrance of Seville Cathedral stands the Puerta del Perdón — the “Door of Forgiveness.”

The name isn’t just poetic. In centuries past, this was the place where those seeking absolution would enter, especially during religious rites when forgiveness was formally granted. Passing through this gate symbolised leaving behind sin, guilt, or burden before stepping into sacred space.

What makes it even more striking is its history. The gate originally belonged to the mosque that once stood here before the cathedral was built. Its horseshoe arch still reflects Islamic design, while later Christian additions reframed its meaning. Different faiths, different eras — yet the same human need: to be forgiven, and to begin again.

And perhaps that’s why the name has endured.

Public Shame, Past and Present

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Thu, 07 May 2026 00:58:00 +0000

Pelourinho da Sé do Porto.

Looking at this old stone column, I can’t help but shiver imagining the scene centuries ago. The pillory was more than punishment — it was humiliation on display. Strapped into the wooden frame, your every flaw and mistake exposed to the entire town, subject to ridicule, laughter, and jeers. People could throw scraps, spit, or just stare — a slow, grinding reminder that society was watching and judging.

It’s hard not to draw a comparison to today. Social media has become the modern pillory. Mistakes go viral, opinions spread like wildfire, and reputations can crumble in hours. Only the stage has changed; the exposure is digital now. And yet, the core feeling is the same: total, inescapable public scrutiny, a reminder of how sharply society can wield judgment.

Standing here, it’s clear that long before the first tweet or post, human nature already loved a spectacle — and some things never change.

Framing the Frame

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sun, 03 May 2026 00:52:00 +0000

There’s something endlessly fascinating about watching someone take a photo. It’s not just the subject they’re capturing, but the moment of pause, the act of choosing what matters enough to preserve.

At Porto’s São Bento Station, I found myself drawn to a window with colored glass panes—yellow and blue filters that softened the daylight. Through the stained glass window, the building outside looked gorgeous — all ornate details and a proud lion’s head staring back. But what caught my eye wasn’t just the architecture. It was the silhouettes of fellow travelers, phones raised, intent on freezing the same view.

So I took a photo of them taking a photo. A photo of a photo! A frame within a frame, a memory of someone else making a memory. It felt like a perfect metaphor for travel itself: we’re all collectors of moments, each perspective slightly different, each image tinted by our own lens—sometimes literally, as with the stained glass here.

In that instant, the station became more than a transit hub. It was a gallery of perspectives, where history, color, and human curiosity overlapped. And my photo became not just about Porto’s architecture, but about the act of seeing itself.

PS: If you haven’t seen my comments for a while, they might be hiding in your Blogger spam box.

I’ve noticed legit comments sometimes appear months later. I check mine daily, and only today comments from March 2026 showed up.

Just so you know, I haven’t gone quiet on you. 🌼💬

Padrão dos Descobrimentos

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 02:08:00 +0000

Proudly rising along the Tagus River in Belém, the Padrão dos Descobrimentos (Monument to the Discoveries) looks like a giant stone ship ready to sail into the Atlantic. Built in 1960 to commemorate 500 years since the death of Prince Henry the Navigator, the monument celebrates Portugal’s Age of Discovery — the era when Portuguese sailors mapped sea routes and connected continents.

The monument is designed as the prow of a caravel, the small sailing ship used by Portuguese explorers. At the front stands Prince Henry, holding a model ship, leading a procession of 32 historical figures who played a role in exploration, navigation, science, religion, and the arts.

Each figure tells part of the story of how Portugal looked outward to the oceans.

But for Malaysians, one of these figures carries a story much closer to home — Afonso de Albuquerque. In 1511, he led the Portuguese conquest of Malacca, then one of the most important trading ports in the world. Its fall marked the beginning of European presence in the region, setting off centuries of change — Portuguese, Dutch, and later British influence — that would shape Malaysia’s history. Standing here in Lisbon, it’s striking to realise that this monument doesn’t just tell Portugal’s story, but ours too.

Sharing these two photos from Wikipedia that identify every figure carved into the monument.

Diogo Cão, the man holding the padrão, the stone pillar used to claim newly discovered lands

The only female figure on the monument: Philippa of Lancaster — Queen of Portugal and mother of Prince Henry the Navigator, whose generation would lead the country into the Age of Discovery. 👑

It’s easy to be swept away by the grandeur of the stone ship and the perfect line of explorers, each holding a map, a banner, or a mysterious instrument. But then our guide leaned in and whispered the stories behind the sculptures — and suddenly, the monument felt alive… and terrifying.

Out of the 33 figures immortalized here, at least five voyagers never returned from their perilous journeys:

Ferdinand Magellan, our guide said it he never returned from the voyage that would circumnavigate the globe. He was killed in the Battle of Mactan in the Philippines, his body lost to the sea.
Gaspar Corte‑Real, who vanished on a voyage to the New World, never to be seen again.
Miguel Corte‑Real, his brother, sailed to search for him — and vanished too.
Diogo Cão, the man holding the padrão, the stone pillar used to claim newly discovered lands, who — as our guide dramatically relayed — was said to have been eaten by cannibals in the Philippines (though history leaves his fate uncertain).
A few others, whose daring journeys ended in disappearance or death, lost somewhere to the unknown seas.

To imagine it is to shudder: these were people who set sail without knowing if they would ever return. No GPS, no reliable maps, only the stars above and endless, uncharted oceans below. Every voyage was a gamble with life itself — where glory and death sailed side by side.

The monument celebrates discovery, yes — but it also immortalizes the terrifying courage of those who faced the unknown, leaving behind pillars of stone, instruments of knowledge, and stories that still send shivers centuries later. 🌊🗿

History tells us the queen never sailed — but in this tiny caravel of mice, she came along to watch over the adventure.” 🐭👑🌊

The Roofless Nave

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Thu, 23 Apr 2026 11:28:00 +0000

During our whirlwind tour of Lisbon, we only had a few minutes to see the Convento do Carmo from the outside, but even that glimpse was unforgettable. Those roofless Gothic arches open to the sky instantly give off this mysterious, almost haunted vibe.

The roofless church of the Convento do Carmo, now the Carmo Archaeological Museum, overlooking Largo do Carmo in Lisbon.

The convent’s history is tragic. On November 1, 1755, the devastating Lisbon earthquake struck during mass, killing many worshippers inside. The roof and much of the structure collapsed, and the nave was never rebuilt. While the practical challenges of reconstruction played a role, leaving it open to the sky eventually became a powerful memorial, reminding everyone of the lives lost and the earthquake’s destruction.

Locals say the ghosts of monks and nuns still linger, wandering through the ruins at night. Some visitors even report hearing whispers or spotting shadowy figures among the arches.

Even though I didn’t get to explore inside, I was fascinated by the haunting atmosphere and the history that clings to every stone. The open arches make it feel as if the building itself is keeping watch over centuries of stories—both real and spooky.

Our guide regaled us with the convent’s ghostly legends, making the ruins feel even more mysterious. 👻

Ghostly Legends of Convento do Carmo

👻 1. The Souls of All Saints’ Day
The earthquake struck during mass that morning. Many locals believe the spirits of those who died remain tied to the convent. Visitors sometimes report a heavy silence or a strange “presence” when standing under the arches at dusk.

👻 2. The Wandering Monks
Folklore says Carmelite monks who once lived in the convent still walk the cloisters. One of the most repeated legends says that the ghost of a monk wanders through the arches at night. After the destruction during the 1755 Lisbon earthquake, many monks died or were displaced, and visitors and night guards have reported hearing faint chanting, soft footsteps, or seeing shadowy figures moving along the stone arcades.

👻 3. The Whispering Walls
Some visitors say the ruined walls seem to “carry whispers.” Guides sometimes tell tourists that if you stand quietly inside the nave at dusk, you may hear faint murmurs — supposedly the voices of people who died when the roof collapsed during the earthquake.

👻 4. Strange Cold Spots
Security staff and nighttime photographers have reported sudden cold patches inside the ruins, especially near the old altar area. Paranormal enthusiasts believe these may be signs of lingering spirits.

👻 5. The Nun in White
Another legend speaks of a pale woman in white occasionally seen near the entrance after dark. Some say she was a nun from the convent who still keeps watch over the church.

👻 6. The Guardian Spirit
Another tale suggests that the convent’s founder, Nuno Álvares Pereira—a knight who later became a monk—never truly left. His spirit is said to guard the ruins, protecting them from further destruction.

👻 7. The Earthquake Spirits
Because thousands died across Lisbon during the 1755 disaster, some locals believe the ruins of Convento do Carmo act almost like a memorial where restless spirits linger. The ruined arches reaching toward the sky only add to the haunting atmosphere.

Since we only saw it from the outside, I’m sharing a couple of photos from the internet so you can glimpse the stunning ruins for yourself.

Photo source : https://www.lisbonportugaltourism.com/guide/convento-do-carmo.html

The skeletal remains of the building still stand as a haunting memorial.

Even as I stood outside looking up at the roofless church, it was hard not to imagine what the scene inside the nave must have been like on that morning of November 1, 1755 — a church full of worshippers attending mass when suddenly the earth began to shake and the roof came crashing down. It’s an image that’s difficult to erase from your mind.

La Giralda

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 18 Apr 2026 05:51:00 +0000

Seville’s iconic Giralda Tower is more than just a stunning landmark—it’s a living testament to the city’s layered history. Originally built in the 12th century as the minaret of a mosque, it guided worshippers with its call to prayer, long before Seville became a Christian stronghold. After the Reconquista, the mosque was converted into the Seville Cathedral, and the Giralda was adapted as its bell tower, blending Islamic and Renaissance architecture in a striking fusion.

At its pinnacle stands the Giraldillo, a bronze weather vane shaped like a woman holding a palm branch and shield. Symbolizing Faith, she has gracefully turned with the wind for centuries, silently watching over the city since the 16th century—a steadfast guardian connecting Seville’s past and present.

The Giralda is full of quirky and fascinating tidbits. Here are some fun facts:

1) No stairs, just ramps! – The tower was built with 35 gentle ramps instead of stairs, so that riders on horseback (or mules) could ascend all the way to the top. Imagine galloping to the bell tower!

2) Height record – When it was completed in the 16th century, the Giralda was one of the tallest towers in the world, standing at 104 meters (341 feet). It remained the tallest in Seville for centuries.

3) Wind chariot – The Giraldillo weather vane is not just decorative; it spins with the wind and is cleverly balanced like a small bronze chariot, making it almost magical to watch on windy days.

4) Islamic meets Renaissance – The lower two-thirds of the tower are from the original Almohad minaret, while the upper section and belfry were added later in Renaissance style. It’s like a history lesson in stone.

5) Secret passages – The ramps were wide enough for animals, but also allowed priests and bell-ringers to carry heavy items up and down—no elevators, just clever engineering!

6) Giraldillo inspiration – Its name actually comes from the Spanish verb girar (“to turn”), referring to the bronze figure that turns with the wind. It’s basically the world’s oldest rooftop weather girl!

The Statue That Wasn’t

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Tue, 14 Apr 2026 00:57:00 +0000

At first glance, we thought it was just another statue in the square. We walked past it without giving it much thought.It was only when we came by the same spot a second time that we realised it wasn’t a statue at all — it was a busker, perfectly posing as a living statue.

This photo was taken at Ribeira Square, where the square is usually full of chatter, music, and the occasional sound of fado drifting out from nearby cafés. In the middle of all that bustle, he sat completely still, painted head to toe and blending into the street scene.

Tourists would walk past, hesitate, then suddenly laugh when he gave a small movement — maybe a tilt of the head or a slow mechanical wave — just enough to remind everyone he was very much alive.

And right behind him stood that bright red telephone booth, looking like a tiny piece of London dropped into Porto.

Quirky, playful, charming… totally Porto.

The Devil's Last Stone

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Thu, 09 Apr 2026 00:35:00 +0000

Rising dramatically above the streets of Segovia, the ancient Roman aqueduct is one of Spain’s most iconic landmarks. Its perfectly aligned stones, stretching for over 800 meters and standing tall without mortar, are a marvel of engineering. Yet among its seemingly flawless structure, one stone is conspicuously missing — a small gap that has sparked curiosity and legend for centuries. Beyond its historical grandeur, the aqueduct carries a story whispered in the city’s alleys and squares — a tale of desperation, cunning, and a pact with the devil.

The Legend Behind the Stones

Long before the aqueduct brought water to the heart of Segovia, the city’s residents faced a daily struggle. Water had to be hauled uphill from distant springs, a task particularly grueling for young women who carried heavy jugs along steep, winding streets.

According to local folklore, one such young water carrier grew so weary of her labor that she exclaimed, in frustration, that she would give anything if water could come to her doorstep.

Her words, it is said, summoned the devil himself, who offered a bargain: he would build an aqueduct overnight to bring water to the city — in exchange for the young woman’s soul. Desperate and tired, she agreed.

The devil and his helpers toiled furiously through the night, stacking stones and crafting arches in impossible precision. Yet as dawn approached, the rooster crowed, and the last stone remained unplaced. The devil had failed. Because the task was unfinished before the first crow, he lost his claim to the young woman’s soul.

Marks of Myth — and Mastery

Walk beneath the aqueduct’s arches and you’ll notice tiny holes and irregular marks on the stones. Legend says these are the devil’s footprints or claw marks — evidence of his frustration and failed pact.

The reality is just as fascinating: those holes were made by lifting clamps, or “claw-like hooks,” used by Roman builders to move and position the massive granite blocks. Workers would attach these metal clamps to the stones, lift them into place, and then remove them — leaving behind the holes that generations later sparked a story of a thwarted devil.

Today, Segovia honors this captivating legend with a sculpture of the city’s little devil — the mischievous ‘architect’ behind the aqueduct. The figure depicts the defeated devil clutching the final stone that was never set, capturing a cheeky snapshot of himself alongside his unfinished work.

Estatua del diablo Segodeus

So, whether you believe in deals with the devil or marvel at Roman engineering, walking beneath Segovia’s towering arches is to feel history and myth intertwined. Every stone tells a story — some real, some imagined — and in Segovia, even legends leave a mark.

The Magpie Room

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Fri, 03 Apr 2026 01:41:00 +0000

Most visitors to Sintra rush straight to the colorful hilltop palaces — especially Pena Palace — but right in the historic center stands another royal residence that quietly holds some of the best stories.

The elegant Sintra National Palace may look fairly restrained from the outside, but inside one of its rooms hides a ceiling filled with gossip, humor, and a very clever king.

image source - https://www.roadtripsaroundtheworld.com/

According to legend, John I of Portugal was once caught by his queen, Philippa of Lancaster, giving a playful kiss to one of her ladies-in-waiting in the palace. As expected in a royal court, the incident quickly became the subject of whispers among the ladies.

The king’s response? Pure medieval public relations.

To silence the gossip, he ordered the ceiling of the room to be painted with 136 magpies — one for every lady of the court. Each bird holds a banner in its beak with the words “Por bem” (“For good” or “With good intentions”), the king’s way of declaring that the kiss was entirely harmless.

The choice of bird was no accident. In Portuguese culture, magpies are associated with chatter and gossip, making the ceiling both a joke and a gentle warning.

Look closely and you’ll also notice many magpies holding a rose, a subtle nod to the red rose of Lancaster — the symbol of Queen Philippa’s English royal house.

image source - Wikimedia Commons

A scandal turned into ceiling art. Medieval damage control at its finest.

The Narrowest Building In Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Fri, 27 Mar 2026 01:18:00 +0000

Our guide pointed out the building with the word CODO as one of the narrowest buildings in Madrid.

Casa de Calderón de la Barca, located at Calle Mayor 61 in the city’s historic centre, is known for its extremely slim façade — only about 14.3 feet wide — and for having been the former home of the renowned Spanish playwright Pedro Calderón de la Barca in the 17th century.Buildings like this exist because Madrid developed organically over centuries. In the medieval period, land was divided into irregular plots, and construction filled even the narrowest gaps, allowing these unusual structures to survive as part of Madrid’s historic streetscape.

Ten Mornings of Churros: A Sweet Spanish Ritual

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 21 Mar 2026 01:09:00 +0000

There’s something irresistibly charming about starting the day in Spain with a plate of freshly fried churros. Throughout our ten days, wherever we stayed, the hotel buffet breakfast always featured them—golden, ridged sticks of dough, crispy on the outside, soft and airy on the inside—a sweet ritual we never tired of.In Madrid, it’s almost a rite of passage to dip them into thick, velvety hot chocolate at a traditional churrería, and seeing them at breakfast felt like a little local tradition brought right to our table. What makes churros so special isn’t just their texture; it’s the simple joy of watching them come steaming from the fryer, still warm, and feeling that chocolate envelope your fingers and taste buds.

Some regions have their own twist: in Barcelona, they might be dusted with cinnamon sugar, while in Andalucía, churros are often thinner and paired with a café con leche. Beyond breakfast, churros are a social experience—a reason to linger, chat, and savor the little pleasures of Spanish life. Ten days of mornings spent with them reminded us that sometimes the best things in life are simple, sweet, and meant to be shared.

TWO FRIED DOUGHS, TWO STORIES

Across cultures, the same idea appears: flour, water, hot oil — but the stories couldn’t be more different.

Food historians believe the technique of frying long strips of dough may have traveled west via Portuguese traders returning from China. In Europe, the idea was adapted, sweetened, and reshaped — eventually becoming the churros we know today.

• One popular legend says churros were invented by Spanish shepherds who fried simple dough over open fires while tending flocks in the mountains. The ridged shape is said to resemble the curled horns of the native Churra sheep.

• Fried dough has very different stories elsewhere. In China, yóutiáo carries a much darker legend. According to folklore, it was created as a symbolic punishment for the traitor Qin Hui, who betrayed the loyal general Yue Fei. Angry citizens joined two strips of dough side by side to represent Qin Hui and his wife, then fried the dough in hot oil — a metaphor for hellfire and a lasting warning of the fate that awaits traitors.

yóutiáo

The Hidden Tiles of Toledo’s Jewish Quarter

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 14 Mar 2026 00:16:00 +0000

I wandered through the winding lanes of Toledo’s Jewish Quarter without expecting anything in particular. Then I noticed something small underfoot — tiny metal tiles set into the cobblestones, little squares marked with the Star of David, the menorah, and other symbols I didn’t immediately recognise.

They were easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. But once I spotted the first one, I began seeing them everywhere. It felt as though the city was quietly acknowledging the people who once lived, worked, and prayed here, leaving subtle reminders scattered along the streets.

Before this trip, I knew very little about Spain’s Jewish history. These modest markers became my introduction — simple, respectful symbols that made me slow down, look closer, and reflect on how deeply the Sephardic community once shaped Toledo.

It wasn’t a grand museum exhibit or a guided explanation. Just a humble presence embedded in the streets themselves, a reminder that history is often right beneath your shoes — if you take the time to notice it.

Installed around 2012 by the Toledo City Council as part of a heritage and tourism initiative, these tiles are embedded throughout the Jewish Quarter to help define its historic boundaries, mark significant paths and locations, and honour the Sephardic Jewish community that once flourished here. With more than 500 markers set into pavements and walls, they serve as quiet reminders that Toledo’s history is layered — and that much of it can still be found underfoot.

Bocadillo de Calamares

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 07 Mar 2026 03:04:00 +0000

When in Madrid, our local guide insisted we try the famously salty squid sandwich — a tradition that comes from the old days, when salting was the way to preserve seafood, and the flavour still lives on today.

No visit to Madrid is complete without a Bocadillo de Calamares — the city’s beloved sandwich of crisp, freshly fried squid tucked into a warm, crusty roll. Simple, salty, and deeply satisfying, it’s one of Madrid’s most iconic bites.

A simple, hearty sandwich that locals proudly claim as their own, it is made with a crusty Spanish barra de pan, sliced open and packed with golden, freshly fried rings of calamari. The squid is typically dusted in flour and fried in olive oil until crisp, and some places add a drizzle of olive oil, a touch of alioli, or a squeeze of lemon for extra flavour.

Despite its simplicity, it hits all the right notes — perfect for breakfast, lunch, a quick snack, or even a late-night bite. In Madrid, you’ll spot people eating it right at the bar or enjoying it outdoors in the sunshine, especially around Plaza Mayor, where the bocadillo de calamares has become a true city tradition.

We spotted one at Mercado de San Miguel — dangerously close to our scheduled paella lunch. Sensible travellers might have waited, but it was our last day in Spain and we were probably never coming back unless by some windfall.

My verdict?

Salty? ✅ Crunchy? ✅ Sacrificed stomach space for paella? ✅ — no regrets. 🦑

Caganer

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 28 Feb 2026 00:25:00 +0000

This little shopfront stops almost everyone in their tracks — because standing right at the entrance is a figurine doing something… very un-souvenir-like.

What you’re looking at is a caganer, one of Catalonia’s most unexpected and beloved traditions.

The caganer (from the Catalan verb cagar, “to poop”) is a small figurine traditionally depicted squatting with trousers down. For centuries, he has been placed discreetly in Catalan nativity scenes, usually hidden somewhere at the back among the fields. While it may look cheeky or even shocking at first, the meaning behind it is surprisingly wholesome.

Historically, the caganer symbolises fertility, renewal, and good fortune. In an agrarian society, fertilising the land was essential for good harvests — so the act represents abundance, prosperity, and the cycle of life. Far from being rude, a nativity scene without a caganer was once considered bad luck.

Over time, this humble squatting figure evolved from a simple peasant into a cultural icon. Today, you’ll find caganers in all forms: traditional farmers, politicians, footballers, pop stars, and cartoon characters — all rendered in the same unmistakable pose. Shops like this one in Barcelona proudly celebrate the tradition, turning it into both folk art and playful social commentary.

Seen through modern eyes, the caganer perfectly captures Catalonia’s sense of humour: irreverent, down-to-earth, and unafraid to poke fun at authority — or at life itself. It’s a reminder that even in sacred or serious moments, there’s room for humanity, laughter, and a little earthiness.

So yes, it’s funny. Yes, it’s bold.
But more than that, the caganer is a tiny squatting symbol of luck, history, and Catalan identity — unapologetically doing its thing, right at the doorway.

Somewhere between folklore and fun sits this tiny caganer mouse — small in size, big in personality. He may be doing something undignified, but he carries with him wishes of luck, abundance, and a wink from Catalonia’s mischievous soul.

Tart Meets Art

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Fri, 20 Feb 2026 02:34:00 +0000

No tour to Lisbon would be complete if you haven’t tried the legendary pastéis de nata from Pastéis de Belém.

Outside the pastry shop, two queues stretched endlessly—one for dining in, the other for takeaway. Our guide spared us the wait, ordering boxes to-go for all thirty of us.

While everyone clustered outside, tarts in hand, I slipped inside to find the toilets—and stopped in my tracks.

I went in expecting a restroom and found something closer to a tiled gallery.

The toilet stalls are wrapped in blue-and-white azulejos, their intricate floral patterns flowing seamlessly from door to door. Each cubicle looks less like a stall and more like a porcelain panel from a museum—elegant, deliberate, almost ceremonial.

Inside Pastéis de Belém, the azulejos quietly steal the show.

Blue-and-white tiles line the walls everywhere—along dining rooms, corners, sinks, even the spaces you barely notice at first. Some tell small stories, others repeat familiar patterns of flowers, birds, and boats. Nothing flashy. Just layers of detail that slowly draw you in.

Of course, I couldn’t resist. I took photos, trying to capture that quiet moment of beauty before stepping back into the bustle.

Through a glass partition, visitors can watch skilled pastry chefs roll, fill, and bake the tarts in a rhythm honed over generations. The aroma of caramelizing custard and buttery pastry drifts out, offering a sensory glimpse into the meticulous craftsmanship behind each iconic pastel.

The magic in full view.

A few fun and fascinating facts that make this place special:

Baking here dates back to 1837, next to the Jerónimos Monastery.
The recipe originated with monks who once lived there.
The secret recipe is still fiercely guarded and prepared in a sealed room.
Only tarts made here can officially be called Pastéis de Belém—all others are pastéis de nata.
They bake thousands daily, fresh in constant batches.
Locals eat them warm, with cinnamon and powdered sugar.

Funny how I went in looking for a restroom and walked out with photos, goosebumps, and the sense that Portugal had just revealed itself—quietly, beautifully, and through a custard tart.

The Rooster of Barcelos

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sun, 15 Feb 2026 01:36:00 +0000

I first noticed these colourful rooster figurines in the souvenir shops in Lisbon and honestly thought they had something to do with Nando’s. It was only when our local guide pointed them out that I learned they are actually the national symbol of Portugal.

And there’s a fascinating legend behind this cheerful little rooster.

The famous Rooster of Barcelos (Portuguese: Galo de Barcelos) comes from a medieval tale. Long ago, a pilgrim was passing through Barcelos on his way to Santiago de Compostela when he was wrongly accused of theft and sentenced to hang.

Desperate to prove his innocence, he begged to see the judge, who happened to be enjoying a roasted rooster for dinner. The pilgrim pointed to the bird and declared, “I am innocent — and to prove it, that rooster will crow when I am on the gallows.” Everyone laughed…

But just as the execution was about to happen, the roasted rooster stood up and crowed loudly. The shocked judge rushed to stop the hanging, and the pilgrim was saved just in time.

Today, that colourful rooster has become a symbol of faith, justice, and good luck — and you can find it absolutely everywhere in Portugal: on coasters, plaques, aprons, magnets, mugs, tiles, and almost anything you can imagine.

Day 11: Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Mon, 09 Feb 2026 00:26:00 +0000

Our final day was spent exploring the vibrant streets of Madrid, a city that feels both grand and full of life. From elegant plazas and lively markets to charming tiled corners and sunny terraces, every stop was a reminder of Spain’s irresistible spirit.

SNAPSHOTS OF MADRID

Four Seasons Hotel

Our guide stopped at Puerta del Sol to show us a small bronze plaque on the ground — Kilómetro Cero, the very center of Spain, marking the point from which all distances in Spain are measured. She said that if you step inside the circle, it means you’ll return to Madrid one day. Of course, we couldn’t resist stepping in — just to make sure!

A brief walking tour with our guide led us to Mercado de San Miguel — a feast for the senses! 🍤🧀🍷

From juicy tapas and fresh seafood to irresistible pastries and sangria, every corner of this historic market was pure temptation. If only I could taste everything in one visit!

LUNCH @ CASA DE VALENCIA

Our last meal in Spain

This handsome waiter brought out a huge pan of steaming paella for us to admire — and of course, we all wanted photos! As we took turns posing, he muttered with a hint of impatience, “It’s heavy, you know.” 😅 Still, the golden rice and sizzling seafood were worth every second of his effort — and ours! 🍤🥘

All good things come to an end…

Our last day in this sun-drenched corner of the world was bittersweet. After weeks of wandering through tiled streets, sunlit plazas, and storybook towns — and countless pastéis de nata and churros from hotel breakfast buffets every single morning (always telling myself “just one more”) — it was finally time to say adiós and até logo.

With lunch behind us, our tour leader thoughtfully planned a stop at El Corte Inglés, Spain’s iconic department store — perfectly timed for a red-eye flight back to Kuala Lumpur. Some of us went in search of last-minute treasures, while others relaxed in the comfort of the VIP lounge, grateful for a quiet pause before the long journey home.

Now the bags are packed, the souvenirs safely tucked away, and my heart feels full — of laughter, tapas, sangria, and a thousand little moments I’ll never forget.

Spain and Portugal have a way of growing on you — and I hope I’ll be back someday. ❤️

DAY 10: Segovia - Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Fri, 30 Jan 2026 23:58:00 +0000

We left Madrid in the morning for a day trip to Segovia. Our first stop was the magnificent Roman Aqueduct, a true marvel that has stood tall for nearly two thousand years. From there, we wandered through the quaint old town, its cobbled streets lined with cozy cafés and shops that seem frozen in time.

Built sometime around the 1st or early 2nd century AD, this ancient giant once carried fresh water from the mountains more than 15 km away, channeling it straight into the city.

What amazed me most was learning that the entire structure—nearly 20,000 granite blocks—was built without any mortar at all. No cement, no binding material, nothing. Just Roman precision, perfect balance, and engineering that still makes modern architects scratch their heads.

The most photographed part is the stretch over Plaza del Azoguejo, where the aqueduct soars almost 29 meters high with its colossal double row of arches. Standing beneath it, you really feel how tiny you are next to something that has survived almost two millennia of weather, wars, and whatever life threw at Segovia.

Even the catastrophic 1755 earthquake, which shattered buildings across Spain and nearly destroyed Lisbon, failed to dislodge the aqueduct.

It’s one of those places where you stop, look up, and think:

How on earth did they build this… and how is it still here?

Just a short walk from the aqueduct, I spotted something I didn’t expect in Spain: the she-wolf nursing the twins, Romulus and Remus. If you remember your school history lessons, this is the founding myth of Ancient Rome—the abandoned twins rescued and suckled by a wolf before growing up to establish the city.

Segovia has its own bronze statue of the Capitoline Wolf, a gift from Rome in the 20th century to honor the city’s Roman roots. It’s a little reminder that Segovia wasn’t just sprinkled with Roman influence—the Romans built, lived, ruled, and left their mark so deeply that even today their symbols still stand proudly in the city.

So after admiring the aqueduct, don’t miss the wolf and her famous twins. It’s like a small history lesson tucked quietly into a Spanish street corner.

Plaza de Medina del Campo

Catedral de Segovia

Esgrafiado

The textured surfaces on many buildings in Segovia are called esgrafiado, a traditional Spanish plaster technique where layers are applied and then carved or scraped to reveal contrasting colors and intricate geometric or floral patterns. Originally popular during the Renaissance and Baroque periods, it added elegance, indicated social status, and even helped with insulation. You can spot it on numerous historic façades throughout Segovia, especially near the Cathedral and Jewish Quarter, giving the city its distinctive, quilted allure.

This is exactly why I love going on guided tours — it’s these little architectural details and hidden stories that I would otherwise walk right past without even noticing.

Alcázar of Segovia, a medieval fortress said to be the inspiration of Snow White's castle

Countryside view from Plaza de la Reina Victoria Eugenia

Lunch at Meson de Candido

In Segovia, meals are a celebration of tradition — and a little bit of fun! We started with Judiones de La Granja, a hearty bean stew made with giant, creamy white beans from nearby La Granja de San Ildefonso, simmered with chorizo, pork, and warming spices.

Next came the star of the show: Cochinillo Asado, roast suckling pig so tender the chef slices it with a plate instead of a knife. And just for luck, that same plate gets smashed — a playful ritual to ward off bad fortune! 🐷💥

To finish, we indulged in Ponche Segoviano, Segovia’s iconic dessert. Layers of soft sponge soaked in syrup, rich cream, and smooth marzipan on top — sweet, decadent, and the perfect ending to a meal that’s all about flavor, tradition, and a little local magic.

Part of the itinerary had us heading to Las Rozas Village, but given a choice, I’d much rather shop at a local mall. The outlet itself was festively decked out for the Day of the Dead, with colorful skulls, marigold decorations, and festive displays adding a cheerful pop to the elegant streets — a fun contrast to the quiet, historic charm of Segovia earlier in the day.

Not being fans of designer brands, we soon strayed off to the nearby Heron City, where we indulged in a very early cozy dinner of comforting pasta and cheesy pizza at Vezzo.

Can’t believe I’m actually in Spain, enjoying a Llao Llao froyo — the very country where it all started! Topped it with Dubai chocolate, a flavor we can’t get back home in Malaysia, and every bite felt extra special 😋.

A sweet little ending to a day filled with history, good food, and small surprises.

Day 9 : Toledo - Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Fri, 23 Jan 2026 02:33:00 +0000

Perched on a hill above the Tagus River, Toledo is a living museum of Spain’s layered past. Once home to Christians, Muslims, and Jews, the city earned its title as the “City of Three Cultures.” Its winding medieval streets, grand cathedrals, synagogues, and mosques stand side by side, reflecting centuries of coexistence and artistic fusion. Every corner tells a story — from Visigothic roots to Moorish arches and Gothic spires — making Toledo one of Spain’s most captivating historic sights.

To reach this hilltop gem, we took the Recaredo escalators — a modern blessing for such an ancient city. Our guide joked that we should pray they’re working, and after seeing how steep Toledo really is, we understood why! 😅 The series of outdoor escalators glide smoothly up the hillside, carrying visitors from the car park below straight into the old quarter. It’s a wonderfully unexpected way to arrive — stepping off at the top to find yourself surrounded by stone walls, weathered gates, and views that instantly transport you back in time.

Church of San Román

Today, the church is home to the Museum of Visigothic Councils and Culture. Built in the 13th century, the church showcases the *Mudéjar style, where Christian and Islamic artistry come together. Over the centuries, the site has served as a *Visigothic church, later a mosque, and eventually restored as a church. Inside, visitors can see Romanesque frescoes from the 1200s and elegant horseshoe arches, along with exhibits celebrating the Visigoths who once made Toledo the heart of their kingdom.

*Mudéjar elements are Islamic decorative features—such as geometric patterns, brickwork, tiles, and carved wood—integrated into Christian-era buildings in Spain after the Reconquista.

*Visigoths — a Germanic people who ruled much of the Iberian Peninsula between the 5th and 8th centuries.

In Spanish history, the Visigothic period is an important era that came after the fall of the Roman Empire. The Visigoths made Toledo their capital, turning it into the political and religious center of their kingdom.

Toledo Cathedral

City Hall of Toledo

Toledo through my lens

As we wandered through a maze of narrow, cobbled lanes lined with artisan shops, cozy cafés, and timeworn facades with wrought-iron balconies, I happened to look up… and there it was — a tiny balcony guarded by stone frogs. Little surprises like this are why I adore Toledo. In this atmospheric corner of the city, where history seems to whisper from every wall, you’re always bound to stumble upon something quirky and utterly adorable.

The tiled street signs of Toledo are one of the city’s charming details that often go unnoticed at first glance. 💙

Each sign is made of hand-painted ceramic tiles, often framed in blue and white, showing the street name in elegant lettering — sometimes with small decorative motifs or coats of arms. This tradition dates back centuries and reflects Toledo’s rich ceramic heritage, influenced by Moorish and Spanish craftsmanship.

They’re not just practical markers — they’re tiny works of art that add to the city’s old-world atmosphere, perfectly matching Toledo’s cobbled streets and historic architecture.

Everywhere you walk in Toledo, you’ll spot sword shops glinting with steel — a nod to the city’s centuries-old reputation as the home of Spain’s finest blades. ⚔️

Since Roman times, Toledo has been famous for its exceptional sword-making, known as “Toledo steel.” The tradition continued through the Middle Ages, supplying weapons for knights, soldiers, and even royal armies.

Today, the craft lives on through countless workshops and souvenir stores that line the streets, displaying shining swords, daggers, and replicas from movies and history. It’s a fascinating reminder of Toledo’s legacy as the sword-making capital of Spain.

LUNCH @ La Parrilla

Lunch at La Parrilla de Toledo was a true Castilian feast — paella with tender perdiz (partridge), rich oxtail stew that melted off the bone, and creamy arroz con leche to finish. Traditional flavors, centuries old, still cooked with love in the heart of Spain. ❤️🍷

Arroz con leche — a creamy Spanish dessert made with soft, slow-cooked rice simmered in milk and sugar, with a touch of cinnamon on top.

Oxtail stew (rabo de toro) originated in Córdoba, and it was indeed once considered a humble, hearty meal eaten by matadors and locals after bullfights. Traditionally, the tails of the bulls used in the arena were cooked slowly with red wine, onions, tomatoes, and spices to create a rich, tender stew.

Over time, rabo de toro evolved from a modest dish into a Spanish culinary classic, now served in fine restaurants across Andalusia and beyond — but its roots remain firmly tied to Córdoba’s bullfighting heritage.

After lunch, we took the Recaredo escalators back down. From above, Toledo’s terracotta rooftops stretched across the hillside, with the majestic dome of the Church of San Ildefonso rising proudly in the skyline. The scene was bathed in golden afternoon light, framed by rolling plains and dramatic clouds beyond the city walls. Gliding down the escalator, it felt like a gentle, moving farewell — Toledo’s timeless beauty unfolding one last time before our eyes.

With Toledo’s magic still lingering, we rolled into Madrid.

Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas, also known as Las Ventas Bullring

Santiago Bernabéu Stadium

Almudena Cathedral

The Royal Palace

The Royal Palace of Madrid is the largest royal palace in Western Europe and one of the largest in the world, with over 3,418 rooms.

Golden hour at the Royal Palace of Madrid — a breathtaking sunset to end a beautiful day.

Day 8: Cordoba

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Fri, 16 Jan 2026 10:49:00 +0000

Day 8 started with a stroll along the Roman Bridge, Córdoba unfolding gently ahead of us.

Roman Bridge (Puente Romano)

Córdoba’s grand gateway — Puerta del Puente

Our tour gang (all 30 of us)

After passing through the Puerta del Puente, we entered the Patio de los Naranjos — a peaceful courtyard filled with orange trees, fountains, and the soft scent of citrus in the air. Once used for ablutions before prayer, it now offers a quiet moment of calm before stepping into the grandeur of the Mezquita.

Patio de los Naranjos

Great Mosque of Córdoba (La Mezquita)

La Mezquita was built in the 8th century under the Umayyad dynasty and expanded over the next two centuries to become one of the largest mosques in the Islamic world. When the Christian Reconquest came in 1236, it was converted into a cathedral, and a grand Renaissance nave was added in the 16th century.

Inside, more than 850 red-and-white striped arches, supported by marble, jasper, and granite columns, form a mesmerizing forest of pillars.

The stunning Renaissance-style dome that was added in the 16th century when the cathedral was built within the original mosque.

The intricate carvings, arches, and golden details reflect the *Mudéjar artistry that makes this monument so unique.

*Mudéjar elements are Islamic decorative features—such as geometric patterns, brickwork, tiles, and carved wood—integrated into Christian-era buildings in Spain after the Reconquista.

A small square of glass on the floor offers a rare glimpse into the site’s layered past.

Standing above this tiny glass window, you’re literally looking down at centuries of history, from Visigothic to Muslim to Christian — a condensed timeline of Córdoba’s rich cultural heritage.

Around the Mezquita, everyday life unfolds within centuries-old walls. Restaurants and souvenir shops brim with ceramics, cork products, and local flavours, spilling onto narrow lanes that still hold the district’s quiet charm.

We wandered through La Judería, Córdoba’s old Jewish quarter, where narrow cobbled lanes twist between whitewashed houses and flower-filled patios. Once home to a thriving Jewish community, the district still whispers of their presence.

Turning a corner, we suddenly found ourselves in a narrow alley bursting with flowerpots!

Calleja de las Flores was once a simple residential alley, but in 1939 a local resident placed flowerpots on the walls, inspiring neighbours to do the same. In the 1950s, the city officially beautified the street with whitewashed walls, cobblestones, and a small fountain, turning it into the iconic, flower-filled alley we see today.

LUNCH @ EL CHOTO

We had grilled Ibérico pork, perfectly tender and full of flavor, served with a local favorite — *Salmorejo, and Pastel Cordobés. A delicious taste of Andalusian tradition!

*Salmorejo, a traditional cold tomato soup from Córdoba.

It’s made with:

• Tomatoes – the main ingredient

• Bread – gives the soup its thick, creamy texture

• Olive oil – adds richness and smoothness

• Garlic

• Salt

It’s typically topped with:

• Chopped Spanish cured ham (usually jamón serrano or jamón ibérico)

• Crumbled hard-boiled egg

👉 Although it looks creamy, there’s no cheese or cream — the smooth texture comes from blended bread and olive oil.

Salmorejo is served cold and is thicker and richer than gazpacho.

Following lunch, our bus took us to Toledo, and just before dinner, the driver stopped at Mirador del Valle — a scenic viewpoint overlooking the city. From there, we had a breathtaking panoramic view of Toledo, with the Tagus River winding around the hill and the Alcázar rising proudly above the old town.

Córdoba’s allure and Toledo’s skyline made for a day full of discoveries, flavors, and scenes that linger in the mind long after the sun has set.

Day 7: Ronda - Córdoba

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Mon, 05 Jan 2026 00:55:00 +0000

Our day began at the beautiful Alameda del Tajo, a peaceful park in Ronda filled with shady trees, colorful flowers, and sweeping views of the countryside. It was the perfect spot for a morning walk—quiet, refreshing, and so full of charm. Locals were out enjoying the sunshine, some walking their dogs while others relaxed on benches beneath the old plane trees.

From the park’s edge, we could already glimpse the patchwork of farmland below — a quilt stitched in gold and olive green. Meandering roads curled through the terrain like loose ribbons, while distant mountains rose softly in the background.

Leaving the park, we walked to Puente Nuevo, Ronda’s most iconic landmark. The short stroll led us to breathtaking views of El Tajo gorge, where the massive 18th-century stone bridge dramatically links the two towns of Ronda—the newer El Mercadillo and the historic La Ciudad—high above the Guadalevín River.

Built in the 18th century, this architectural marvel soars nearly 100 meters above the gorge and took over 40 years to complete — a masterpiece that still offers one of Spain’s most spectacular views.

Next, we visited Plaza de Toros, Ronda’s legendary bullring and one of the oldest in Spain.

Standing in the middle of the grand sandy arena, it felt like stepping into a scene from an old Spanish film — you half expect a matador to appear with a flourish of his cape!

At the arched entrance, it’s impossible not to imagine the past rushing forward.

Picture it: a massive wooden gate bursting open, a raging bull charging out in a blur of muscle and dust. The crowd roars from the stone tiers, a wall of sound rising under the Andalusian sun. Trumpets, tension, excitement—every heartbeat synced to the intensity unfolding in the sand.

This plaza has witnessed centuries of spectacle. Built in the late 18th century, the Plaza de Toros de Ronda is one of Spain’s oldest and most revered bullrings, often called the birthplace of modern bullfighting. Legends were made here, traditions refined, and reputations sealed with a single pass of the cape.

Today, though, the arena feels different.

The stands are quiet. The gravel crunches softly underfoot. Instead of adrenaline, there’s reflection. While bullfights are still occasionally held here, most notably during Ronda’s famous Corrida Goyesca, they are far fewer than in the past—and increasingly controversial. The space now functions largely as a museum and historical monument, inviting visitors to learn rather than cheer.

Here, in the calm after centuries of noise, I felt relief.

Relief that this place can be appreciated for its architecture, its history, and its cultural significance—without the blood and suffering that once defined its purpose. The echoes of the crowd may linger in the stone, but the silence feels like progress.

Some traditions are worth remembering.

Others are better left in the past.

La Ciudad

Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Merced

The church is renowned for housing one of Spain’s most venerated relics—the incorruptible hand of Saint Teresa of Ávila, a 16th-century Carmelite mystic and reformer of the Carmelite order. In Catholic tradition, “incorruptible” refers to a body part that has resisted decomposition after death, which is seen as a sign of holiness. The hand is kept in a special reliquary inside the church and attracts pilgrims and visitors who come to pay their respects and seek spiritual inspiration.

A horse and carriage

A scene that looks like it belongs in a postcard. But instead of charm, my heart ached. The horse stood there, silent and patient, bearing not just the carriage but the weight of expectation, of tradition, of tourists’ fleeting amusement. What was once celebrated feels heavy now, and I couldn’t help imagining the loneliness and quiet suffering behind those eyes. The romance of the scene fades when you realize who truly carries the burden.

Lunch @ Restaurante Abades Ronda

Lunch at Restaurante Abades Ronda — a hearty Andalusian spread! 🍽️ We started with embutidos ibéricos (local cold cuts), soup, and croquetas de pollo, or chicken croquettes — a classic Spanish tapa commonly served in Ronda. The main dish was carne en salsa, tender beef stew with fries, and we ended on a sweet note with natillas con galleta, a creamy custard topped with a simple biscuit. Comfort food with a Spanish soul.

After lunch, we crossed to the opposite side of the gorge for a completely different view of the town. From this angle, the Puente Nuevo looked even more magnificent — a towering sweep of stone bridging the cliffs, with whitewashed houses perched daringly along the edge. Below, the gorge plunged deep and narrow, the river glimmering in the sun like a silver thread. It was one of those scenes that make you pause, breathe, and quietly say to yourself, wow… this is Ronda.

Now you can see the whitewashed houses of the new town on the left, and the rugged cliffs of the old town rising on the right — Ronda in perfect balance.

From there, we continued our journey to Córdoba, arriving just in time for a delightful dinner.

We started with Calamares Rellenos con Arroz y Salsa Verde, tender squid stuffed and served with rice and a bright green sauce, followed by Solomillo de Cerdo en Salsa, succulent pork tenderloin bathed in a rich, savory sauce with potatoes and vegetables. To finish, we shared a slice of pastel cordobés, Córdoba’s signature puff pastry tart dusted with sugar and filled with sweet pumpkin jam. A hearty end to a day of cliff-top views.

Day 6: Seville

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sun, 28 Dec 2025 00:45:00 +0000

It was an early start as we left Lisbon, crossing the border from Portugal back into Spain — a scenic three-hour drive through rolling hills and golden plains. Our first stop in Spain was Badajoz, where we had lunch at a restaurant in a hotel. Spaniards usually have lunch later in the afternoon, around 1:30 PM to 3:30 PM, so throughout the trip our tour manager had to carefully coordinate with restaurants that could accommodate our group for earlier meals — usually around 12:30 PM for lunch and 6:00 PM for dinner, as we Malaysians tend to eat earlier than the locals.
I especially enjoyed the rich and velvety crema de legumbres — a warm, creamy soup made from blended legumes such as lentils, chickpeas, or beans.

In Spain, the day moves at a different pace — people generally rise later, start work later, and dine much later. The main meal, la comida, is typically between 2:00 PM and 3:30 PM, while dinner (la cena) often doesn’t begin until 9:00 PM or later. Because of this long gap between lunch and dinner, Spaniards developed the custom of enjoying tapas — small plates or snacks usually shared over drinks in the early evening. Tapas aren’t a full dinner but a social way to bridge the hours until the late meal, reflecting the country’s relaxed rhythm and love of conversation. Interestingly, our guide told us there’s even a story behind the word itself. The word tapa means “lid” in Spanish, and it’s said that bartenders once covered glasses of wine with a slice of bread or ham to keep the flies out. Over time, those simple “lids” evolved into the delicious small plates we now know as tapas.

After our lunch stop, we continued on to Seville, ready to soak up the vibrant rhythm and warmth of Andalusia.

Snapshots of Seville

This building is a typical example of Andalusian architecture, featuring Gothic, *Mudéjar, and Renaissance elements.

*Mudéjar elements are Islamic decorative features—such as geometric patterns, brickwork, tiles, and carved wood—integrated into Christian-era buildings in Spain after the Reconquista.

The Seville Cathedral

We took countless photos of Seville Cathedral, but rather than overwhelm you, I’ll share just one glimpse for now. I’m saving the interior for a separate post — the world’s largest Gothic cathedral deserves to be lingered over, not rushed.

Stumbled upon this beautiful azulejo panel on my stroll towards Plaza de España — a little narrative embedded in Seville’s tile traditions. Azulejos are hand-painted ceramic tiles, a centuries-old art form brought to Spain by the Moors and now an iconic feature of Andalusian architecture.

From Seville Cathedral, we made our way to Plaza de España, and nothing quite prepares you for it. The sheer size is astonishing, and the sense of grandeur unfolds slowly as you take it all in — the sweep of the buildings, the openness, the presence of the square.

Plaza de España

Plaza de España was created for the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition, a world’s fair meant to showcase Spain’s history, culture, and its ties with Latin America. Rather than temporary pavilions, Seville built something monumental and lasting.

This ornate ceiling sits quietly above one of the arches.

Everywhere in Spain and Portugal, even the most practical things — maps, street names, house numbers, shop signs — are turned into azulejos. Directions don’t just tell you where to go; they pause you for a moment. Cool to the touch, sun-washed, slightly imperfect, these tiled signs feel both functional and poetic. I kept stopping, not because I was lost, but because I didn’t want to walk past them.

One of the most captivating spots in Plaza de España is the long curve lined with 49 tiled benches, each one representing a different province of Spain. Every alcove is a work of art — adorned with colourful azulejos that depict historical scenes, coats of arms, and even a map of the province on the floor.

We ended the day with a flamenco dinner show — a mesmerizing blend of music, dance, and Andalusian flavor all in one evening.

As we enjoyed our meal, the stage came alive with rhythmic footwork, soulful guitar, and the raw passion that makes flamenco so unforgettable. You feel every stomp, every note, every emotion.

Flamenco is a traditional Spanish art form that combines singing (cante), guitar playing (toque), dance (baile), and rhythmic handclaps (palmas). It originated in Andalusia in southern Spain, influenced by the region’s diverse cultural roots — including Moorish, Jewish, and Gypsy traditions. Recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, flamenco is known for its emotional intensity, intricate footwork, and expressive movements.

Another city, another day carefully folded into memory.

Day 5 - Portugal: Sintra -> Almada -> Belém

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Lee) — Sat, 20 Dec 2025 03:41:00 +0000

We arrived at Pena Palace in Sintra after a scenic coach ride from Sintra town centre and then transferred into a smaller shuttle that wound its way up the forested hillside. From the drop-off point at the park entrance, we continued on foot along a paved path through the wooded grounds of the palace park—this final stretch offered a quiet, leafy preview before the grand reveal of the palace itself.

Sintra—thought to come from “Cynthia,” an ancient name for the moon goddess Artemis, reflecting the area’s long association with mysticism and nature. The region’s misty hills and lush forests have inspired legends since ancient times, adding to its romantic allure.

Pena Palace (Palácio da Pena)

Pena Palace was built in the 19th century on the site of a former monastery and served as a summer residence for the Portuguese royal family. Commissioned by King Ferdinand II, it combines Gothic, Moorish, and Manueline architectural styles, reflecting the Romantic taste of the period. The palace stands on one of the highest peaks in the Sintra hills and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Love the details and intricacy of the azulejos framing the archway

Between the three of us, we took over 300 photos, but I only shared a handful here to keep it light. Every corner of Sintra’s palaces seemed photo-worthy — from intricate tiles and painted ceilings to elegant courtyards, grand halls, and rooms filled with royal curiosities. Still, photos hardly do justice to the sheer beauty and detail of the place.

Arco do Tritão

According to local Sintra lore, Triton — the half-man, half-fish sea god depicted in this arch — is believed to watch over the palace’s waters and surrounding hills. His presence symbolizes the connection between land and sea, a theme that runs deep in both Portuguese mythology and the Romantic ideals behind Pena Palace.

Note the carvings that shift from coral and shells to vines and leaves: he embodies the balance between the marine and earthly worlds — a vivid reflection of Sintra’s mystical harmony with nature.

The Triton of Portuguese mythology draws inspiration from the Greek sea god Triton, son of Poseidon, but is reimagined through Romantic and local symbolism. In Sintra, he becomes a figure of transformation, linking sea and land, myth and nature, and past and present.

The Stag Room

The Stag Room was originally designed as a dining room but was later used by King Ferdinand II to display his art collection, particularly ceramics. The room features a large central column and a ceiling with a dome-like structure. The walls are decorated with hunting trophies, such as deer antlers, which give the room its name.

Although it appears to be carved wood, the ceiling is actually made of plaster. Artisans in the 19th century used stucco and paint to imitate timber, a technique favored by King Ferdinand II to achieve the look of a medieval palace without the weight and cost of real wood.

The bed appears unusually short because people in the 19th century often slept in a semi-reclined position rather than lying flat. At the time, it was believed that sleeping propped up aided digestion, improved breathing, and prevented illness. Beds also served as places for reading or receiving visitors, so a more upright posture was considered proper and comfortable.

The Royal Kitchen

Next, we made our way across the Tagus River to Cristo Rei in Almada, the giant statue of Christ that watches over Lisbon. Towering 28 metres above its pedestal — which brings the total height to a staggering 110 metres — it’s impossible to miss and offers breathtaking panoramic views of the city, the river, and the iconic Ponte 25 de Abril.

Inspired by Rio de Janeiro’s Christ the Redeemer, but with a distinctly Portuguese design, the monument was built as a sign of gratitude: the bishops of Portugal pledged to construct it if the country was spared from the devastation of World War II. Standing there, looking up at Christ with arms outstretched, it’s easy to feel the sense of awe and serenity the site was meant to evoke.

Surrounding the statue, a series of crosses marks the Stations of the Cross, reflecting the 14 moments of Christ’s journey from condemnation to burial. Walking among them, visitors can pause to reflect and meditate, adding a spiritual dimension to the visit.

My and my new tour buddy

After visiting the Monument of Discoveries, we made our way to the Jerónimos Monastery. By this time, we were overwhelmed by the sheer scale, intricate details, and historic grandeur… sensory overload! In the midst of it all, we only managed to capture a few photos, so I have just these to share.

Located in Lisbon’s Belém district, this UNESCO World Heritage site is a masterpiece of Manueline architecture. Built in the early 16th century, it was commissioned by King Manuel I to commemorate Vasco da Gama’s successful voyage to India. The monastery complex includes the Church of Santa Maria de Belém, which houses the tombs of Vasco da Gama and the poet Luís de Camões. The site also features ornate cloisters, intricate stone carvings, and is a symbol of Portugal’s Age of Discovery.

South Portal

The south portal is a magnificent Manueline entrance completed in the early 16th century by João de Castilho. Adorned with statues of saints, apostles, and Portugal’s royal patrons, it reflects the country’s faith and power during the Age of Discovery. Above the doorway stands a statue of Our Lady of Belém (Mother Mary) with the infant Jesus, facing the Tagus River to bless ships as they set sail. While this portal is largely religious in theme, maritime motifs such as ropes, corals, and sea plants appear elsewhere in the monastery—especially in its exquisite cloisters and west portal.

I could stare at Jerónimos Monastery’s ceiling forever. Massive stone vaults are held up by delicate columns that branch like palms, each rib carved with leaves, ropes, and waves. It’s incredible how something so heavy feels almost weightless

From here, we continued to the Monument of Discoveries (Padrão dos Descobrimentos), a striking riverside tribute to Portugal’s Age of Exploration.

Shaped like a ship’s prow, it honors figures such as Prince Henry the Navigator, Vasco da Gama, and Ferdinand Magellan — men who helped expand the horizons of the known world. Our local guide gave an incredibly detailed explanation of each figure, and Son #1 was especially fascinated by Afonso de Albuquerque, whose expeditions reached as far as Melaka in Malaysia. Seeing this brought back memories of our secondary school history books — my late dad, who his students still tell me was the best history teacher ever, would have loved to walk through this and share all the stories himself. There was so much to take in — definitely a story for another post!

Caught in the rain at the monument — umbrellas up, spirits high! ☔️

In front of the Monument of Discoveries lies a massive compass rose and world map made of marble and mosaic, a gift from South Africa in 1960. It charts the routes of Portuguese explorers across the globe, marking the far reaches of their voyages.

From wikipedia to show its full scale

Our following stop was the famous Pastéis de Belém, the pastry shop said to hold the original secret recipe for Portugal’s beloved custard tarts. According to our guide, the recipe originated with the Hieronymite monks of Jerónimos Monastery, who used egg whites to starch their robes and clarify wine, leaving behind plenty of egg yolks. To avoid waste, the monks created rich, yolk-based sweets — and so the first pastéis de nata were born. When the monastery was closed in 1834, the recipe was sold to a nearby sugar refinery, whose owners opened Pastéis de Belém in 1837. To this day, the bakery continues to guard the original recipe, known only to a handful of master pastry chefs.

Seriously good!

These tarts are popular back home in Malaysia — but honestly, nothing even comes close to the real deal here in Belém! The queue was long enough to test our patience, but one bite of that warm, flaky perfection and we completely forgot about the wait. Totally worth it!

Dinner @ D'Bacalhau

Bacalhau is the Portuguese word for salted and dried cod, a staple of Portuguese cuisine for over 500 years. Traditionally, the cod is caught in the cold waters of the North Atlantic—especially near Norway, Iceland, and Newfoundland—then preserved by soaking it in salt and drying it. This preservation method made cod durable enough for long sea voyages during the Age of Discoveries, and it became deeply woven into Portuguese food culture.

Before cooking, bacalhau is rehydrated by soaking it in water for 24–48 hours, with several water changes. Once softened, it can be cooked in countless styles: baked, fried, grilled, stewed, shredded, or served with cream, olive oil, potatoes, onions, or eggs. Portuguese often say there are “mais de mil maneiras de fazer bacalhau” — more than a thousand ways to cook cod — because of its extraordinary versatility.

Today, bacalhau remains one of Portugal’s most iconic ingredients, appearing in both home cooking and restaurant menus throughout the country.

Classic Portuguese starters

Each item reflects a traditional “Na Mesa” (On the Table) ritual that sets the tone before D’Bacalhau’s showstopper arrives.

Degustação de Bacalhau — Codfish Tasting Platter

A curated selection of four traditional Portuguese cod preparations, each with its own texture, seasoning, and story.

We were just getting comfortable with our plates of bacalhau when—bam!—the lights went out. Total blackout in the entire area. Luckily, our trusty cellphones came to the rescue, turning every table into a soft blue glow — kinda romantic in a weird sort of way.

When nature called, heading to the toilet in total pitch blackness was… let’s just say, mildly alarming. But fear not! With our phone torches leading the way, we heroically avoided collisions with walls, tables, and the occasional bewildered waiter. Honestly, can you imagine doing this before the advent of cellphones?

By the time we had to leave, we marched to the bus, phones in hand, looking like a procession of modern tech pilgrims. And yes, now you know why there are no dessert photos — it arrived in the blackout, invisible to the human eye but forever illuminated in our memories. Thank goodness for cellphones—true travel superheroes! 😄