A Writer’s Reprieve

The cycle of life rounds, as the wheel with that little tar smothered stone is sharply wedged, scratching against the road once more. No matter how large the arc, things seem to come around again.

It was Christmastime.
It was New Year’s.
It was summertime…
And I was a little depressed. Continue reading

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The Road to Valencia

I was ready to leave Granada, I just wasn’t prepared to navigate newly formed bus routes in a foreign country. Before leaving the hotel, the clerk gave me a heads up on there being a change but he was unsure how it fully worked. I waved ‘Adios!’ and ‘Gracias!’ With The Beast in tow, we shuffled across the piazza and what I had hoped was down the right street, to catch a bus, to catch another bus out of town. Continue reading

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The Most Touristy I’ll ever be, in One Day

It was time to get down to the business end of travelling. Enough of this languid ‘just pop me in a hammock with a sangria’ kind of lifestyle. One day I tried to squeeze in as much as humanly and touristically possible; the Alhambra, the gypsy caves and some flamenco stomp-stomp. Continue reading

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Granada, a Taste for Free Tapas

My first Blablacar ride went without a hitch. The road to Granada was a chatty one with a lovely driver who practiced her English, while two snoring Aussies cradled their backpacks behind us. There’s something about driving on the open road during summertime with the yellowed fields flowing under the blue blue sky, cruising toward the horizon line with the sweet relief of air con; in a weird feeling of filming a movie that is my life. Continue reading

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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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