A Little bit Lost, Some Butt Cheeks & a Cathedral

Seville* is one of those enchanting places that beguiles you to believe that if it weren’t for the Spanish tongue uttered in conversation, you could be in some other enticing country. For the onset of what had become my longest solo travelling mission, I warmed to this city with open arms. Continue reading

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The Bullfight

I had two roomies for the most part, in Seville. One nicknamed Miguel (from England), because each time he went to say his name during our introduction, the pneumatic drill outside would start up and what I had heard was Miguel. The other was Oreo Cookies from India; because quite simply, I really need to clean my ears out when I meet new people. Continue reading

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Savvy in Seville

I knew that it would be absolutely ridiculous to leave Spain without taking advantage of more sightseeing, so I had a final fling with my beloved siesta devoted nation. Laden with the advice of locals, I made an adios trail cross-country via Seville, Granada, Valencia, and flying from Barcelona. Continue reading

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Cricks & Ciaos in Conil

Travel and epics journeys aren’t always glamourous and golden coloured sand hotdog leg Facebook posted pictures. An honest depiction would have been me diarising the time I got really, really sick; but then I didn’t want to sound like a big Boo-Hoo in a Woohoo! part of the world. Nonetheless, nearing 100 days of venturing, there I was bedridden in Southern Spain. Continue reading

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Short Stories from Southern Spain

Before I begin, how the heck did I go over a whole month without posting a gosh darned thing? Had I stopped travelling? Had I disappeared off the face of the earth? Had I been eaten by a giant rabid rabbit? No, no and um… well, no. Quite simply it was a combination of snail’s pace (I want to punch the screen) internet, no internet, and some sneaking back to NZ (twice). Posting this, from July, simply seems like a lifetime ago; but I am undoubtedly looking forward to catching you up on the adventures in between. The frequency of posts will depend on whether Winnie the cat’s ass manages to stay out of my face, as I sit down and type. This, unfortunately, is what Mum’s new cat likes to do. Continue reading

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Surviving Breakdowns and Spanish Conversation

It really isn’t an NJ road trip without something ridiculous happening, as you know from what you may have already read. My drive back to Conil de la Frontera really was no exception.

It was one of those beautifully clear ‘I’m ready to go home’ days. Fi and I were well prepared, even though we were going to part ways that day. I drove the landscapes I’d carved through before, but this time there was no rain in sight. There was however still as much to think about on a seven plus hour journey, but it was enjoyable all the same. The countryside didn’t disappoint. Continue reading

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Stalking in Salamanca

Given that I was in the area, I thought that I should at least have a look at Salamanca; it was only a fifteen minute drive away. I think Fi was a bit lonely and keen for a spin, too. Out on the road, Fi and I got tooted at because we were driving at the speed limit and the old man behind us was not too keen on that. TomTom also joined the party and sent me around and around in circles, several times. By the time I got out, I was dizzy and ready for some exploring of this university city. Continue reading

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The Spanish Retreat

July is a big month for me. It hasn’t always been, but now it is; lurking with memories hiding behind closed doors. This July was especially hard. It was five years since Mr T had passed, but sometimes it still feels like it had happened yesterday. On my own and traveling, which I thought would never happen again, I decided to do something memorable, something special, something to mark the day. So I planned a trip to Salamanca, a place that had jumped out at me from the Spanish map when I first looked up where the heck Murcia was. Continue reading

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Kooky Cat Stories

I may have become a ‘Crazy Cat Lady’. As much as I have purported to dislike cats, I actually grew up with some very loving ones; including Henry who was my alarm clock for school when he would come into my room and bite my ankles. Continue reading

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Living the Spanish Dream

It was quite easy to slip into the southern Spanish lifestyle. Breakfasts were a relaxed introduction to the day, the late lunches signalled that siesta was not long after and dinner was at a time when I’d be going to bed, in New Zealand. The days were warm with the temperature rising into lovable summer highs and I was quite happy to fade in and out of the heat. I’m not the winter kind of girl.  Continue reading

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