The Drive North: Rabat to Casablanca
The drive from Rabat to Casablanca is short, just over an hour. Somewhere between cities, the car had picked up the unmistakable Moroccan layer of fine brown dust, the kind every car collects after a few weeks on the road. A sign it’s been used properly.
Along this stretch, people stand by the roadside, waving as you pass, offering car washes. I pulled over. While the car was cleaned, I sat at a small cafe facing the road with a Moroccon mint tea, surrounded by locals doing the same thing; sitting, watching, passing time.
The wash took about twenty minutes. When it was done, the car felt reset. Clean again. Ready.
As I drove further in, Casablanca opened out. Wide roads lined with palm trees. Modern blocks and cafes stacked into the city rather than spilling out from a historic core.
It felt cosmopolitan in a way the other cities hadn’t. Less medina-first, more built for movement. Casablanca is one of Morocco’s newer cities, shaped as much by the 20th century as anything older. You feel that immediately.
Settling In: A Home Base in Casablanca
I checked into my Airbnb on Rue Prince du Jour, tucked into a central residential pocket of Casablanca. The apartment opened into warmth: wood-panelled walls, soft lighting, clean lines with a mid-century feel.
Outside, the neighbourhood felt lived-in with small cafes spilling onto the pavement, corner shops, locals drifting with no sense of rush. After weeks on the road, it suited me perfectly. It felt like somewhere you could settle, and start moving through the city properly rather than skimming its surface.
First Steps in Casablanca
After dropping the bags, Roly and I headed straight back out to get a feel for the neighbourhood. We stopped at Soo Beef for a late bite, casual and unfussy. On the way back, I picked up a bottle of wine from Aperik Casablanca, one of those local wine shops that quietly signals the city’s more cosmopolitan side.
By the time we walked home, the light had softened and the pace of the street had eased. Casablanca felt easy to slip into. It was the kind of first evening that doesn’t try to impress, it just lets you arrive.
Casablanca, From Morning to Midnight
The next day kicked off with coffee at % Arabica Casablanca, right on Boulevard d’Anfa. Bright, modern, sharply designed, the kind of spot that immediately sets the tone for Casablanca. Good coffee, city energy already switched on.
From there, I headed to Arab League Park on a date with Jamie, a guy from Bristol who’d also escaped the British winter and was spending a couple of months travelling through Morocco. The park felt like neutral ground, where conversation can move as freely as you do.
We walked, talked, looped without really noticing the route. Locals passed by in every direction: families, couples, runners, friends meeting mid-path. It’s one of Casablanca’s rare pauses of green in a city that otherwise runs on wide roads and forward motion, and it worked perfectly as a starting point.
By early afternoon, the Atlantic became the plan. We landed at Bianca Café, set right beside Plage Lalla Meryem, and let the day run on its own terms.
This part of the coast is pur
We walked the beach as the light began to shift. Horses and camels moved along the shoreline, riders cutting clean silhouettes against the Atlantic. Families and couples claimed patches of sand, angling for the best view as the sun dropped toward the horizon.
As dusk set in, we peeled back inland. Dinner was at Yoobi Sushi, followed by cocktails at Chez Fred.
It was Casablanca in full flow. Coffee to park. Park to ocean. Ocean to night. Wide streets, palm-lined avenues, constant movement. A city that doesn’t slow down, it just changes gear.
Casablanca, Between the Moments
The rest of my time in Casablanca came from moving through the city, not ticking it off. Window shopping turned into repeat passes along neighbourhood streets lined with independent fashion boutiques, sharp tailoring, European silhouettes, unexpected details that didn’t need explaining.
Daily food markets slipped naturally into the pattern. Crates of fruit stacked high, familiar faces reappearing. Casablanca reveals itself in fragments like that: a mural cutting across a blank wall, a mosque minaret rising between apartment blocks, a pocket park carving green space through concrete.
Meals anchored the days. A long lunch at Vichos Casablanca, tapas designed to stretch an afternoon without trying to. Pastries at Guest Pastry Bakery, locals drifting in and out with purpose. Casablanca eats well, often, and without fuss.
Match Night: Casablanca After Dark
That night, the city flipped into full celebration mode. I caught Morocco’s Africa Cup of Nations semi-final on my laptop. When the final whistle went and Morocco took the win, Casablanca answered instantly.
Cars flooded the roads, horns blaring in waves. Flags appeared from windows, draped over bonnets, pulled from nowhere. The noise carried late into the night, joyous, relentless, impossible to ignore. It echoed the same charged celebrations I’d witnessed previously in Rabat, the city moving as one, pride loud and unapologetic.
Next up is the final. I’ll be watching that one from Marrakech.
Notes from the Road: Casablanca
First impression: Big, modern, and confident. Palm-lined boulevards, wide roads, constant motion.
Neighbourhood life: Lived-in streets beat landmarks. Cafes on corners, food markets on repeat, the same faces appearing day after day. That’s where the city clicks.
Style watch: Independent fashion boutiques quietly set the tone, clean tailoring, European silhouettes, nothing trying too hard. Casablanca knows how to dress.
Food rhythm: Long lunches turn into late afternoons. Tapas, sushi, pastries, wine shops you’ll revisit without planning to. Eating here is casual but deliberate.
Coastline energy: Urban beach culture. Lunch slides into sunset, horses and camels crossing the frame like it’s normal.
Overall: Casablanca is modern, functional, and cosmopolitan, a city best experienced by moving without agenda and letting the days stack naturally.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next stop: Marrakech
The Drive South: Asilah to Rabat
Leaving Asilah behind, I headed south towards Rabat. The drive took a little over two hours and felt straightforward. The kind of road that lets your mind wander while the kilometres quietly pass.
Fishing towns dotted the route, appearing and disappearing just off the main road. About an hour in, I pulled over at Moulay Bousselham for lunch. I stopped at La Terrasse, right on the beachfront. The area felt relaxed and functional rather than polished. Lunch was seafood, with a clear view of the water. It broke up the drive perfectly.
Back on the road, things gradually began to shift. The closer I got to Rabat, the more structured everything felt. Roads widened, traffic increased, and the pace subtly changed. You could feel the transition from coastal towns to capital city without needing a sign to tell you.
Driving into Rabat, the difference was immediate. One of the first landmarks you pass is the royal residence, with guards stationed outside and staff tending carefully kept grounds.
After the softness of Asilah, Rabat felt composed and deliberate. Not loud, not chaotic, just purposeful. A clear shift into the next chapter.
Arriving in Rabat: A Central Base
I checked into my Airbnb in the centre of Rabat, firmly rooted in the city’s everyday rhythm. Rabat is more spread out than Asilah, less about drifting and more about moving with intention. The beach wasn’t on the doorstep, it was around a 30-minute walk away.
What was close was the city itself. Shops, bakeries, cafes, and practical errands were all within easy walking distance, giving the area a lived-in, functional feel rather than anything curated for visitors.
Geographically, it felt like a midpoint. A place to return to, reset, and head back out again.
Match Night in Rabat
That evening, Rabat came alive. Morocco was playing in the quarter-final of the Africa Cup of Nations, Africa’s equivalent of the Euros.
When Morocco won, the reaction was instant and unstoppable. Car horns echoed through the streets in constant waves. People spilled outside, cheering, singing, waving flags, celebrating together. The noise rolled on well into the early hours of the morning.
It was impossible not to feel how much it meant. This wasn’t just a football match; it was pride, unity, and shared identity playing out in real time. Standing there, watching it all unfold, I found myself completely swept up in it. From that point on, I followed the rest of the tournament closely, and of course, I was rooting for Morocco all the way.
First Impressions: Rules, Rain & Resetting Expectations
My first day in Rabat was spent wandering the neighbourhood, getting a feel for the city. Almost immediately, one thing became clear: Rabat is not dog-friendly. Not in shops, not in cafes, not in restaurants, and not even on terraces. It was a stark contrast to places like Asilah and Europe, and honestly, my biggest shock so far in Morocco. Being the capital, it makes sense; rules feel more present here, more firmly observed, and that naturally shapes how you move through the city.
It definitely limited my options. With Roly in tow, spontaneous cafe stops or lingering lunches weren’t possible. Add to that it was a cold, wet day, damp pavements and the start felt a little tougher than I’d hoped.
Luckily, I found a solution nearby: Tangier’s Bocadillos, just a ten-minute walk from the apartment. Fresh wraps made to order, quick, warm, and exactly what I needed. I took lunch back to the Airbnb, sheltered from the rain, and reset.
It wasn’t the most cinematic first day, but that’s travel too. We were only here for a couple of days, and despite the slower, more restricted start, I was still determined to make the most of Rabat, even if it meant adjusting expectations and pace.
Rabat, Between the Plans
The next few days in Rabat were actually some of my most productive. With Roly being a hard no in most attractions, I naturally slowed down. Instead of fighting it, I leaned in. I stayed in, put my head down, powered through client work, updated this blog, and cooked proper meals again. All hail Glovo for making that part easy.
The Airbnb helped. It was spacious, had a balcony, and didn’t feel claustrophobic, a decent setup for a few low-key days after months of near-constant movement on the road. It felt grounding in a way I didn’t realise I needed.
Around that time, I’d also befriended a Moroccan guy, Simo. He lives in Rabat, works as a surf instructor, and suggested we meet later in the week when the weather improved. The plan was: harbour, medina, souk, beach to see the city, with someone who knows it well.
When Rabat Opened Up
When the sun came back later in the week, Rabat shifted again. I met Simo and we headed out properly, starting along the Bouregreg Corniche. This is where the city breathes a bit. The river is wide, restaurants line the edge with people walking, talking and passing time. It felt social, but not showy. Rabat at ease.
From there, we walked up into the Kasbah of the Udayas, a 12th-century fortress built to defend Rabat’s coastline, now one of the city’s most recognisable historic quarters. The shift is immediate with heavy stone walls, palm-lined steps, then a sudden wash of white and blue. Narrow lanes, weathered doors, cats stretched out in the sun.
Inside the kasbah, the city noise drops away. It feels enclosed, almost self-contained, perched between river and ocean. We stopped for traditional Moroccan mint tea overlooking the water, the Atlantic stretching out beyond the walls, one of those pauses that lands exactly where it should.
Down at the Beach
We walked down from the kasbah onto the sand, where Rabat feels stripped back. The beach sits right where the river empties into the Atlantic, so the water is darker and restless, constantly shifting. It’s not the kind of place you come to sunbathe. People were walking, standing, watching the tide, letting dogs run, kicking a ball around. Above us, the kasbah walls stayed fixed and heavy, like the city was still keeping an eye on the ocean.
Into the Medina
From the beach, we headed back inland and slipped into the Rabat medina. Shops bled into each other: baskets stacked high, trays of nuts and sweets, snacks and household goods packed tightly behind glass counters. People moved with purpose, shopping, chatting, stopping mid-walk to greet someone.
There was no hard sell, no pressure to buy. Just stalls open to the street, food sizzling, and the quiet chaos of a place that functions first and entertains second. We wandered without a plan, cutting down side alleys, stopping to look, moving on again. It felt real, unfiltered and exactly the kind of place that rewards curiosity instead of rushing you through it.
At the Hassan Tower
We ended at the Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, one of Rabat’s most symbolic sites. The 12th-century minaret rises from an open square of stone columns.
Beside it, the Mausoleum of Mohammed V feels pristine and ceremonial. Guards watch while visitors move slowly around the space, instinctively lowering their voices. Pigeons lift off and resettle against the ancient walls. It's a place where Rabat’s political, religious, and historical layers meet in one wide, open breath.
Notes from the Road: Rabat
Rabat asked for adjustment. It wasn’t instantly easy, especially travelling with a dog, and it didn’t offer the same softness or spontaneity as Asilah. It’s a city shaped by rules, structure, and function, and you feel that quickly.
But once I stopped expecting it to behave like a coastal town and let it be what it is, Rabat made more sense. It’s a capital first. Purposeful. Grounded. Lived in. A place where daily life runs alongside history rather than being built around it.
What stayed with me most was the contrast. Quiet working days followed by streets erupting in celebration for football. Administrative order balanced by moments of warmth, generosity, and connection. Ancient sites woven directly into modern routines. Nothing polished for show, but plenty to notice if you paid attention.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next stop: Casablanca.
Early Morning Crossing to Morocco
The alarm went off early. Bags packed, car loaded, Tarifa still quiet. I drove north along the coast to Algeciras as the sky started to lighten, ports silhouetted against soft colour.
Check-in was straightforward, and before long we were boarding the ferry with Balearia. Roly settled quickly, watching the activity from the deck as the harbour pulled away behind us.
The crossing itself took just under an hour and a half. Spain faded into the distance, and slowly the outline of Morocco came into view. A passport stamp, a change in weather, a sense of crossing into somewhere new.
By late morning, we were pulling into Tangier Med. Africa, officially reached.
The Drive: Tangier Med to Asilah
Once off the ferry at Tangier Med, the road south towards Asilah takes just over an hour. The drive quickly became less about getting somewhere and more about taking it in. Goats and cows wandered across the road, people walked the verges, and the landscape stretched out in greens and soft hills. It felt like crossing into a completely different pace of life. That pace carried straight into Asilah
Arrival in Asilah
I stayed at a guesthouse called Maison d'hotes Berbari just beyond the town edge, off the beaten path and firmly part of everyday Morocco. Local homes nearby, animals moving through the land and life unfolding around you.
Peacocks wandered the grounds. Roosters cut through the mornings. Dogs slept wherever the shade landed. From the nearby mosque, the call to prayer drifted in at regular intervals.
Breakfast was communal and generous. A full spread, and a mix of guests who naturally ended up talking from French and Spanish families, young couples, travellers passing through, and the owners’ dogs drifting between chairs. No forced interaction, just shared space done well.
Evenings revolved around home-cooked Moroccan food. Tagines, slow-cooked meats, dishes made to be eaten together. We gathered in the main living and dining room with log wood and fire going, records playing, the room lively without being performative.
It wasn’t a stay built around activities or “must-dos.” It worked because it felt honest, shaped by the people running it, the land it sat on, and the everyday routines unfolding around it.
New Year’s Eve
New Year’s Eve was spent at the guesthouse, gathered with the other guests and, inevitably, the dogs in an easy, celebratory mood. Dinner was a proper home-cooked beef tagine, rich and comforting, shared around the table. Later, I caught up with friends and family on the phone back in England, slipping between conversations and the room around me.
It felt balanced and grounded. No rush, no excess, just good food, familiar voices, and a calm sense of closing one chapter and opening another. A solid way to see in the New Year, and the right lead-in to a full day of exploring Asilah the next day.
New Year’s Day: Exploring Asilah
New Year’s Day was spent on foot, getting a feel for Asilah. Blue doors against white walls, cats stretched across doorsteps and car bonnets, unbothered and unmoved. Each turn revealed something different, small details stacking into a strong sense of place.
Asilah Medina
I wandered into the medina. This isn’t a hectic souk like Marrakech or Fez. It’s residential, artistic, and distinctly Asilah.
The lanes are lined with whitewashed buildings edged in blue, a colour code that’s become part of the town’s identity. Small stalls sit open selling snacks, scarves, ceramics, paintings, and clothing. Nothing is stacked on top of itself. It’s spaced out, easy to browse, easy to move through.
Art shows up everywhere, but casually. Painted doors. Murals on corners. Framed pieces leaning against walls as if they’ve always been there. It’s woven into the fabric of the place. Creativity feels lived in.
I wandered without a plan, doubling back, cutting down side streets, letting the medina open and close around me.
Asilah’s Murals & Painted Streets
The murals appear without warning. One street looks ordinary, the next opens onto a wall painted with fish, birds, faces, geometric shapes, coastal scenes. Much of this comes from Asilah’s long-running International Cultural Festival, where artists are invited to paint directly onto the medina walls. What makes it different is what happens after. The art stays. It fades. It peels. It gets painted over, reworked, replaced. Some pieces look fresh. Others clearly carry years of weather.
A painted wall might belong to someone’s home. A doorway becomes part of the artwork. A mural wraps around a corner and disappears into everyday life.
You turn down one lane and catch something new. Walk the same route later and notice what you missed before. The medina doesn’t stay still, it shifts through layers.
Above the Medina
From the medina, I climbed a set of stone steps that led up to the ramparts. The view opened suddenly. The Atlantic stretched out below, the beach running along the base of the old walls. Asilah stacked up in white and blue.
Down to the Water
I walked out of the medina and followed the path down to the Plage d’Asilah. A group of locals were gathered on the sand playing steel pan drums, the sound carrying across the beach. Nearby, kids were mid–football game, running barefoot, shouting, laughing, stopping only when the ball rolled too close to the water. There was movement everywhere. It felt open, social, alive.
Roly immediately was in full joy mode, sprinting the length of the beach, charging into the waves, then racing back out again before repeating the whole thing. He didn’t hesitate once. Wet paws, sandy fur, completely in his element.
A young Moroccan boy came over and started throwing a stick for him. We got chatting. He spoke four languages, very impressive. It was one of those easy, unforced exchanges that just happens.
That’s something that kept standing out in Asilah. The friendliness felt genuine. From people on the beach, to locals in the streets, to the guesthouse owners, conversations started easily and kindness felt baked in. The town felt open, welcoming, and comfortable to be in.
Just along the edge of the beach is Port d’Asilah, the town’s fishing harbour, where rows of small blue fishing boats are moored along the water. We strolled past it for a while, then headed back into town to find somewhere for lunch.
Late Lunch at Dar Al Maghrebia
I headed back into town for a late lunch at Dar Al Maghrebia, tucked into a small lane just off the medina and grabbed a table on the terrace. I ordered a seafood tagine, rich and tomato-based, served with fresh bread and lemon. Around us, tables filled and emptied on repeat. It had that mid-afternoon energy, lively and felt like a fitting end to a day spent wandering before heading back to the guest lodge.
Working Days & Wandering Further
The rest of my time in Asilah settled into a steady pattern. Mornings working from the guesthouse, afternoons drifting back out into town or along the coast. It’s an easy place to balance both.
One morning I stepped outside and there was a donkey tied up beside my car, calmly grazing. Not something you see often in the UK.
Back in town, lunches stretched long. I stopped in at Port XIV Restaurant, and watched the harbour activity drift past. Other days were spent on the beach watching the surfers, kids running football matches across the sand, and sunsets.
One day, I drove further along the coast towards La plage de Sidi Mghait, just outside town. A line of beach restaurants, including Chiringuito Morchid, sat facing the sea, all shuttered for winter. With no crowds and no soundtrack beyond the waves and wind, it felt like seeing the coast in its in-between state; stripped back, unfiltered, and entirely itself.
Why Asilah Stuck With Me 💌
Asilah stayed with me because nothing felt curated for show. Life unfolded in front of you on the streets, along the coast, inside the medina without needing to be explained or packaged.
It’s a place where daily life and visitors overlap naturally. You’re not separated from it. You’re walking through it. People stop to talk. Kids play football on the beach. Fishermen move in and out of the harbour. Artists paint directly onto walls.
Conversations happen easily and kindness shows up without effort. From the women running the guesthouse to strangers stopping to chat as you pass, there’s a sense of ease that’s hard to manufacture.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next route: Rabat
Arriving in Tarifa
The drive from Sevilla to Tarifa took around two and a half hours. The road heads steadily south through open countryside before the landscape opens up and the Atlantic begins to press closer.
Tarifa sits at the very edge of Europe, where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic and Africa feels close enough to see across the water.
The pace changes immediately. Tarifa feels stripped back in the best way; fewer layers, more air, more space.
Where I Stayed: Los Lances / Dunes Area
I stayed at Iceberg Luxury Dunes, just behind Playa de Los Lances on the northern edge of Tarifa. The location sits neatly between the beach and the main road into town. Free private parking is a big plus here, and getting in and out of Tarifa is straightforward.
From the apartment, it’s an easy walk to the wide, open stretch of sand, with views out toward the Atlantic and you’re close enough to the Old Town to wander in on foot.
Beach Time in Tarifa
The next day was given entirely to the beach. Roly went straight into the water, charging through the shallows like he’d been waiting for this exact moment, then sprinting back across the sand without a care in the world.
I grabbed a coffee from a small beach bar perched right on the dunes and sat watching the light change; clouds thick and dramatic one minute, soft breaks of sun the next. People were scattered, never crowded. A few walkers in the distance, dogs off lead, the sea stretching wide and calm.
It wasn’t about doing much at all. Just being there and letting the day unfold slowly, with nowhere else to be.
Wandering the Old Town
The next day was spent entirely in Tarifa’s old town, wandering without any agenda. Whitewashed streets, cobbles underfoot, small independent boutiques spilling colour onto the pavement with clothing, jewellery, ceramics, and surf-inflected finds tucked into every corner. It’s compact and the kind of place where you keep turning into “just one more street” and find something worth stopping for.
Lunch was at El Lola – Bar de Tapas y Flamenco, lively, with tables pressed close and a steady flow of conversation. I ordered the red tuna which is a local speciality here and a big part of Tarifa’s food identity. This stretch of coast is famous for almadraba tuna, an ancient, sustainable fishing method used for centuries, and the tuna is treated with the kind of respect it deserves: simply prepared, rich, clean, and full of flavour.
After lunch, it was back out into the streets to more shops, more colour, people drifting in and out of bars and bakeries. Tarifa’s old town doesn’t feel curated or polished. It feels lived in and social, exactly what makes wandering it so satisfying.
Wandering the Marina
The day started at Cafe Azul one of those places that immediately earns a return visit. Good coffee, well-judged plates, and a relaxed, design-led space that makes it easy to settle in longer than intended.
From there, I headed towards the marina, following Tarifa’s coastal edge. It’s a different face of Tarifa, less enclosed than the old town, more open, more expansive.
The walk rolled straight onto the beach, where everything stretches out. I stopped at Balneario Beach Club for a glass of cava, sitting with the sea in front of me and nowhere else to be.
As evening set in, I headed back into town for dinner at Restaurante La Pescadería. A classic, seafood spot where the focus stays firmly on the produce. Fresh fish prepared, and the kind of place that feels rooted in Tarifa rather than styled for it. A relaxed, satisfying way to close the day.
After dinner, I finished the night with a drink at Bossa Bar. Low-lit, laid-back, and the kind of place that works perfectly for a final glass before calling it. An easy end to the evening, very Tarifa.
Crossing Ahead: From Tarifa to Africa
With Morocco next on the route, it was time to get practical. Before leaving Tarifa, I took the car in for a quick check at Automoción Piñero Peinado. Nothing major, just a once-over for peace of mind before crossing continents.
Back at the apartment, bags were repacked, essentials double-checked, and everything set up for an early start. The plan: an early-morning drive to Algeciras, then the ferry across to Tangier.
Tarifa at a Glance: How the Town Breaks Down
Tarifa is small, but each area feels distinct:
Casco Antiguo (Old Town)
This is the heart of Tarifa with narrow streets, whitewashed buildings, tapas bars, wine spots, and boutiques. It’s lively, social, and compact. Best for wandering and atmosphere.
Los Lances / Beachside North
Open, spacious, and breezier. This is where you’ll find long beaches, kite surfers, walkers, and a slower pace. It’s more functional and liveable.
Residential South (towards Punta Paloma)
Quieter, more spread out, and closer to nature. This area feels more local and is better suited to people prioritising space over proximity to town life.
Notes from the Road: Tarifa
Days were shaped by the sea, the old town, and good food without fuss. Mornings started easy, afternoons stretched out along the water, evenings slipped naturally into tapas, wine, and familiar faces.
There’s a clarity to Tarifa. Nothing tries too hard. Life stays close to the elements; sea salt, sun, movement and that simplicity sharpens everything else. It was the right place to pause, check the car, repack bags, and mentally turn the page.
From here, the route shifts. New borders. Africa.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next stop Asilah.
Arrival in Sevilla: Settling Into the Casco Antiguo
The drive from Granada to Sevilla took around three hours, and somewhere along the way the landscape softened. The mountains fell back, the air warmed again, and Andalucía opened out into wide plains.
Sevilla is Andalucía’s capital, a city built up in layers. Roman foundations, centuries of Moorish rule, then the wealth of the Spanish Empire flowing in through the Guadalquivir. You feel all of it straight away, not as something preserved or put on display, but as part of daily life.
Churches sit beside bars. Apartment blocks rise next to old courtyards. History isn’t separated or spotlighted it just exists, woven into the streets people still live on. Sevilla doesn’t pause to explain itself or point things out. You notice it by walking through it, by sitting down for a drink, by paying attention.
Living Inside the Casco Antiguo
I based myself right in Sevilla’s Casco Antiguo, at Jesús del Gran Poder. This part of the city feels immediate and textured with cobbled streets, facades painted in warm yellows, terracotta and soft pinks and corners marked by graffiti.
Christmas was threaded through it. A tree stood in the square. Lights were strung overhead. Temporary ice rinks and market stalls appeared where streets opened out, folding into daily life.
From the apartment, wandering felt instinctive. Streets curve and narrow, opening onto record shops, vintage and antique boutiques, hand-painted doors, posters layered in windows, flashes of colour everywhere you look. Dogs move confidently through it all. People slow down, stop to talk, browse, linger.
The days shift naturally. Mornings pull you towards markets, cafes and small shops. I stopped for cakes at Horno Nueva Florida. Afternoons are for walking with no plan at all, just following streets until they lead somewhere else. By evening, bars glow from inside, conversations spill outward, music drifts through open doors. After a dog walk with Roly, I grabbed a quick drink at Las Columnas Sevilla and watched the street settle into night.
Nothing here feels staged. It’s layered, interesting, colourful, and magnetic. A place you don’t tour so much as slip into and stay with.
Christmas Eve in Sevilla
Christmas Eve morning started on Calle Baños, a short walk from the apartment and already buzzing by mid-morning. This stretch of street is all about food: butcher shops, fishmongers, bakeries, cheese counters, fruit stacked high in crates with every doorway busy, every counter lined with locals working through last-minute lists.
In much of Europe, Christmas Eve is the main event: the late dinner, the wine, and the main family gatherings. It’s a different emphasis to the UK, where the 25th has most of the Christmas celebrations.
I stopped into Carnicería El Origen and ordered steaks and sausages, then picked up eggs and Iberian ham from neighbouring shops so I could put together something simple on Christmas Day. I already had dinner booked for that evening at Alcázar Andalusí Tapas, so this was about preparing for the quieter day that followed.
The rest of the afternoon unfolded on foot, wandering without urgency, letting the streets lead the way.
By early evening, the city had shifted gears. I headed out for Christmas dinner and took a seat on the heated terrace at Alcázar Andalusí Tapas, facing the street. Around me, Sevilla was buzzing, locals lingering over pre-dinner drinks, groups greeting each other mid-street, laughter carrying between tables before everyone peeled off home for long family nights ahead. There was a joyful energy in the air.
Dinner stretched easily into drinks, with the terrace glowing against the night. From there, I crossed the road to Café Hércules, already packed inside and spilling out onto the pavement. I got chatting with a few people, which quickly turned into a small group, and we decided to wander to the nearby square and continue drinks at Copa 66, where music drifted out onto the street. We sat outside on the terrace as new faces joined, conversations overlapped, songs were sung enthusiastically, and laughter bounced around the square.
It was an easy, joyful night. My first European Christmas, shared in a city I was already starting to fall for.
Christmas Day in Sevilla
Christmas Day arrived bright and sunny. I was tired, a little foggy from the night before, but Sevilla doesn’t allow for staying in. By afternoon, I was back out on the streets, drawn towards the centre for a slow wander and a proper lunch.
I stopped at Maestro Marcelino, a place that instantly felt grounded and impressive. Inside, rows of hanging jamón framed the bar and bottles lined the shelves. I grabbed a table by the window, perfectly placed to watch the street unfold.
Outside, the city moved at an easy pace. Pedestrians wandered past in no hurry, and at one point several horse-drawn carriages rolled through. The view alone felt like part of the meal.
The food matched the setting, classic tapas done properly. Thoughtful, well-executed dishes with attentive service. This felt like the kind of place you would return to because it delivers without trying too hard.
Hungover or not, it was exactly how Christmas Day should feel here: unforced, sunlit, and quietly celebratory. Another layer of Sevilla revealing itself and another reason I was already falling in love with the city.
Letting Sevilla Unfold
The rest of the day flowed into wandering, the kind where Sevilla kept presenting itself without asking you to decide where to go next.
Flamenco surfaced in the open. A dancer held a small square in complete focus, her movements sharp and deliberate, the rhythm carried by guitar and voice close behind her. Flamenco belongs to Andalucía shaped by Roma, Moorish, Jewish and Andalusian histories. People gathered quietly, watched for a while, then moved on, as if this were simply part of the city’s daily texture.
Green space cut through the day too. Parque de María Luisa appeared between streets and buildings, its tiled fountains and shaded paths offering a pause without breaking the flow of the city. Built for the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition, locals and tourists walked dogs, crossed through on errands, stopped briefly on benches.
At some point the scale shifted upward. The Catedral de Sevilla came into view. Built on the site of a former mosque and finished as a declaration of imperial confidence. Standing beneath it, the detail reveals itself slowly: carvings softened by time, stone warmed by late afternoon light, shadows pulling texture out of the façade.
Around it, the city carried on. Horse-drawn carriages moved at an unhurried pace. Streets filled and emptied without urgency. Christmas lights threaded through the architecture. The celebrations folded neatly into everyday life.
Sevilla continued to reveal itself in layers with movement, sound, history and light. You just keep going, and the city keeps meeting you where you are.
Leaving Sevilla
Boxing Day arrived quickly. I checked out of the apartment, loaded up the car, and felt that familiar mix of readiness and reluctance that comes with short stays that land well. Sevilla had been brief, but it left its mark. It didn't need much time to make itself felt, and one I know I’ll come back to.
Before heading south, I stopped for breakfast at Restaurante El Paseíllo. After that, one last slow wander through the city in the winter sun. Familiar streets, golden light on stone, the city moving at its own pace.
I passed beneath Las Setas de Sevilla, officially known as the Metropol Parasol, one of Sevilla’s newest and most debated landmarks. Modern, bold, and slightly surreal against the surrounding streets.
I ended with a glass of wine in the courtyard at Café Santa Marta Bar, sitting in the sun, letting the moment stretch just a little longer. Then it was time. Southbound again.
Seville's Neighbourhoods At A Glance
Seville is a city of distinct pockets, each with its own mood. Once you understand where you are, the city becomes easy to navigate and even easier to enjoy.
Casco Antiguo
The historic core and the emotional heart of the city. Narrow streets, churches, small plazas, bars, shops, street art, and everyday life layered tightly together. Lively from morning to late night, especially around food, drinks, and wandering without a plan.
Santa Cruz
The old Jewish quarter and postcard Seville. Whitewashed lanes, orange trees, quiet courtyards, and historic landmarks like the Cathedral and Alcázar nearby. Beautiful, atmospheric, and busier during the day.
El Arenal
Set between the historic centre and the Guadalquivir River. Close to bullring culture, traditional tapas bars, and river walks. Central but slightly more open, with a mix of locals, visitors, and long-standing institutions.
Triana
Across the river and proudly its own thing. Known for flamenco roots, ceramics, local bars, and strong neighbourhood identity. Less polished, more personality. One of the best places for traditional food and evening atmosphere.
Alameda de Hércules
Social, alternative, and relaxed. A wide square lined with bars, cafes, and terraces where locals gather day and night. Younger energy, less traditional, very lived-in.
Macarena
Residential and authentic, with historic walls, local markets, and fewer tourists. Good for seeing everyday Seville away from the main sights, while still staying walkable to the centre.
Los Remedios
Calmer and more residential, across the river from the centre. Broad streets, local shops, and daily routines. Not a sightseeing area, but a good snapshot of modern Sevillian life.
Nervión
More contemporary and practical. Shopping centres, offices, and transport hubs. Useful rather than atmospheric, but well connected.
Why Seville Stuck With Me 💌
Seville stayed with me in a way I didn’t expect, not because of one standout moment, but because of how the city felt as I moved through it.
It carries its history lightly. You sense it in the architecture, the rhythm of the streets, and the way people gather without rushing. Mornings are unhurried, afternoons stretch long, and evenings feel made for wandering with no destination in mind. There’s an undeniable cool to Seville; effortless, confident, and completely unforced. And long after leaving, it lingers.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next route: Tarifa.
Valencia → Alicante
The drive from Valencia to Alicante is short and straightforward, just over two hours south. It’s mostly motorway, cutting inland through open stretches of countryside before dropping back towards the coast. Easy enough to feel effortless, long enough to mark a clear shift.
Alicante: A Coastal Pause
Alicante was a short stop en route to Seville, a way to break up the longer drive south and stretch the journey rather than rush it. I checked in on Saturday 20 December and stayed through to Monday 22 December, just enough time to reset by the sea before the Christmas leg began.
I based myself by San Juan Beach, staying at Hotel Almirante, which turned out to be a great choice for a short stay. It was less than a five minute walk to the beach which made slipping into seaside mode almost automatic.
Lunch at Barrazero Bistro
After checking in, I didn’t waste any time. Roly and I headed straight out for lunch at Barrazero Bistro, and it delivered. The terrace was relaxed and sun-soaked, the kind of place that immediately puts you at ease. The food followed suit; fresh, flavoursome, and well judged.
I started with mussels in an Oporto escabeche that added depth without overpowering them. Pickled onion and herbs lifted the dish, keeping everything balanced and clean. The scallops came cooked on the plancha, properly seared and finished with a small amount of seasoned butter; sweet, clean, and left alone to speak for themselves. I also ordered Galician razor clams, served in a soft yuzu beurre blanc. Rich but not heavy, with just enough citrus to cut through the sauce without pulling focus from the clams.
All coupled with a glass of cava. Roly settled beside the table without fuss, welcomed easily by the staff. Service was relaxed and attentive, never intrusive. It felt like an easy start. Unforced, well paced, and exactly what this stop in Alicante needed to be.
San Juan: Sand, Sea & Sunset Evenings
Naturally, the rest of my time in Alicante unfolded almost entirely around the beach. Mornings were quiet and spacious; people walking along the shoreline, dogs racing across the sand, early swimmers easing into the water. By afternoon, volleyball games appeared, others stretched out simply to watch the sea.
Breakfasts set the tone. Both mornings started at Cafe Willow or Dolci Garipier, easy spots for coffee, something sweet or savoury, and watching the day gather momentum. Later, as the light softened, evenings often ended with a glass of wine at Xaloc Lounge, right on the beachfront, the sky shifting colour while conversations drifted around us.
Dinner, though, was better approached with a little intention. While the beachfront restaurants look tempting, I’d skip them. The food is noticeably stronger just a few minutes inland. Places like Barrazero Bistro, La Vaquería Mediterránea, Restaurante Nova Queimada, and Nómada Local Food & Funky Drinks all offer better cooking, and a more local feel without straying far from the sea.
Days blurred into a simple pattern: long walks, salty swims for Roly, wine at sunset, and unhurried meals. For a short stop between cities, Alicante didn’t ask for much and gave exactly what was needed.
Alicante Neighbourhoods at a Glance
El Barrio / Casco Antiguo (Old Town)
Historic, lively, and atmospheric. Narrow streets, colourful houses, tapas bars, and nightlife tucked beneath the castle. Great for short stays and evenings out, but can be noisy late at night.
Centro / Ensanche Diputación
The practical heart of the city. Flat, walkable streets with shops, cafes, restaurants, and everyday amenities. Well connected and ideal if you want convenience without the party feel.
Explanada & Port Area
Palm-lined promenades, marina views, and a polished, postcard Alicante feel. Popular with visitors and great for strolling, dining, and being close to the sea.
Playa del Postiguet
City beach living. Central, buzzy, and scenic with easy access to the Old Town and centre. Busy in summer but unbeatable for location.
San Juan Beach (Playa de San Juan)
More spacious and residential with long sandy beaches. Modern apartments, cafes, and a relaxed pace. About 20–25 minutes from the centre by tram, ideal for longer stays.
Albufereta
Quieter coastal area between the city and San Juan. Residential, local, and calm, with tram access and smaller beaches.
Benalúa
Local, residential, and less touristy. Good value accommodation, bakeries, and everyday life. Not beachfront, but well connected.
Notes from the Road: Alicante
Alicante feels instantly easy. The city is compact, flat, and built for wandering perfect for beach walks or socialising on the promenade. There’s a relaxed feel here that doesn’t demand a plan.
The next morning, it was back on the road. Next route: Granada.
Alicante, Then South Briefly To Grenada
From Alicante, I drove on to Granada. Just under four hours, cutting through wide open roads and long mountain stretches. What stayed with me most was the shift in weather, leaving sunshine behind and watching it turn, gradually, into colder air and distant snow-dusted peaks. It felt like crossing seasons in a single drive.
Granada was only a one-night stop to break up the journey south to Seville. I stayed at Catalonia Granada, and had dinner nearby at Restaurante Granada Aylin Art Cuisine. Warm, cosy, excellent food and wine, the kind of place you’re grateful to find without needing to plan.
After dinner, Roly and I walked to a nearby park with a fountain and monument glowing softly at night. Just a final stretch of the legs before resting up.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next route: Seville.
Barcelona → Valencia
The drive from Barcelona to Valencia took just under four hours and was entirely motorway, which made it easy and relaxed. Once I’d left the city behind, the roads opened up quickly and the journey became one of those steady, uncomplicated drives where you can just settle in and let the kilometres pass.
Arriving into Valencia, the difference was immediate. The city feels more open. Palm trees line wide roads, light bounces off pale buildings, and everything feels less compressed.
I got the sense that this would be an easy place to settle into, explore properly, and live in for a while rather than rush through.
Valencia already felt like it had its own energy. Quieter than Barcelona, but confident. And very much its own thing.
Settling In: Duplex City of Arts & Science
I settled into a duplex apartment called Duplex City of Arts & Science, located in the Camins al Grau district. It’s a modern, residential pocket of Valencia that feels local and more everyday life.
The City of Arts & Sciences is about a 15-minute walk away and the beach at Platja de Llevant is roughly a 30 minute walk or 10 minute drive.
It was the kind of base that felt well connected, bright, and easy to slip into Valencia without trying too hard.
Wandering Valencia
Day two was about walking without a plan and letting the city reveal itself. The neighbourhood around the apartment felt properly lived-in with residents chatting on corners, local shops ticking along at their own pace. Palm trees, basketball courts and bursts of colourful graffiti sat casually between apartment blocks, all under that bright Valencian light.
Late morning drifted naturally into food, as it tends to here. I stopped at Taberna El Clavo, grabbed a table outside, and leaned into a very Spanish brunch: tortilla, bread, something grilled, and a glass of cava that felt entirely justified. Around me, conversations rolled on, and no one looked in a rush to be anywhere else. It was the kind of place where time stretches slightly, not because it’s trying to be charming, but because that’s just how people use it.
An Evening at Casa Montaña
That evening, I headed out for dinner on a date with a guy from Amsterdam who’d been living in Valencia for a while. He recommended tapas and drinks at Casa Montaña, a hidden gem in El Cabanyal.
Casa Montaña has been around since the 1800s, and it feels it in the best way. Nothing here has been polished up or reworked. Tiled walls, wooden barrels, shelves of wine that look like they’ve been added to gradually, bottle by bottle, over time.
We ordered the way you’re supposed to here, a few things at a time, glasses topped up, plates shared. The food was excellent, but what stood out more was the vibe of the place. Conversations overlapping, people leaning in, wonderfully friendly staff. You could tell this was somewhere people return to, not somewhere they “discover.”
The evening unfolded easily. Good food, vermut, wine, stories traded back and forth about cities lived in and left behind. It felt distinctly Valencian.
It was one of those evenings that slots neatly into a place’s story and the perfect end to my first day.
Arts, Gardens & a Very Practical Detour
Day three came with one clear priority: my MacBook charger had stopped working. Not dramatic, just urgent. When you’re working on the road, that cable is non-negotiable.
I headed to Centro Comercial El Saler, right on the edge of the city, and went straight to K-tuin Valencia Saler. Problem solved. New charger in hand, momentum restored.
What I didn’t expect was how workable the mall itself turned out to be. There’s a proper desk area built into the space with power points, room to spread out, people doing the same thing. I sat down and got some solid work done. Once that was handled, the day opened up.
Step outside the mall and Valencia immediately shows another side. The Turia Gardens run straight through the city. A former riverbed repurposed after flooding in the 1950s and now one of Valencia’s best assets. Long paths, palms, sports courts, people walking dogs, cycling, stretching out the afternoon. It doesn’t feel curated. It feels used.
From there, the city shifts again as the City of Arts and Sciences comes into view. Big, white, sculptural buildings sitting in sheets of blue water, sharp against the sky. Designed to make an impression, and it does. Even without going inside, walking through the complex feels like moving through a different version of Valencia: bolder, cleaner, more futuristic.
Roly strolled along beside me, the sun stayed high, and the afternoon slipped by easily. A charger replaced, work done, and then hours outside taking in how this city actually functions; green space threaded through it, architecture that takes risks, and room for real life in between.
Where the City Meets the Sea
Spending time in Valencia inevitably pulls you towards the water. I headed out to Platja de Llevant, close enough to the city to reach easily but far enough to feel like a proper change of scene. Even in December, the weather held; warm enough for long walks along the sand, throwing a ball for Roly, or simply sitting facing the water with no agenda beyond switching off.
Roly was immediately in his element, sprinting across the sand and paddling in the gentle waves. Time passed without any effort to track it, and food followed naturally.
This stretch of coastline has plenty of places to eat, many with relaxed indoor–outdoor terraces. I stopped at Restaurante Sabbia Valencia, settling into a leisurely three-course lunch with fresh seafood, a glass of wine, and dessert to finish. The food was excellent.
As the day shifted into evening, the nearby marina offered a different mood. Spots like Marina Beach Club and La Marina de València start to fill with music. It’s another layer of Valencia that reveals itself. A city that makes space for local life, good food, and time outside.
Living in Valencia
Staying in Valencia for eleven days shifted the pace completely. After the first few days of exploring, the rest of the time settled into something closer to everyday life.
Most days started with walks through the neighbourhood. Orange trees heavy with fruit lined residential streets, parks filled with people walking dogs, chatting on benches, passing time.
Roly got a groom at Tu Pet Estilismo de Mascotas. I booked a Thai massage at Thirak Thai Massage & Wellness, which turned out to be exactly what it promised; thorough, grounding, and very good at undoing weeks of driving and laptop posture.
Food became less about “where to eat” and more about where we naturally ended up. Casual breakfasts at Planeta Café, tapas at El Castillo de las Tapas, and paella at Casa Bassa. One evening we went for something completely different, asian cuisine at Shintori Teppanyaki.
There were plenty of in-between moments too. Leisurely shopping at department store El Corte Inglés, grabbing takeaway from Thai Tu Box, stopping for drinks at Il Cuore di Ruzafa as the neighbourhood eased into evening. I even squeezed in eyebrow threading at Lashes & Go Valencia, which was a nice treat.
What stood out wasn’t a single moment, but how naturally Valencia accommodates daily life. Parks woven through the city, the beach close enough to drift in and out of, and futuristic architecture sitting comfortably alongside it all. After eleven days, that felt like its strongest quality.
Valencia Neighbourhoods at a Glance
Valencia is easy to understand once you get a feel for its neighbourhoods. Each area has its own personality, but they link together seamlessly, making it simple to move between different sides of the city without effort.
El Carmen (Ciutat Vella / Old Town)
The historic heart of Valencia. Narrow streets, small plazas, layers of Roman, Moorish, and medieval architecture. Lively without being overwhelming, especially in the evenings when people spill into bars and squares.
Pla del Remei / Eixample (City Centre)
Elegant, polished, and very walkable. Think wide avenues, boutiques, cafes, and classic buildings. This is the traditional city centre; refined, central, and easy to live from.
Ruzafa
Social, creative, and full of personality. Cafes by day, wine bars by night, and a strong neighbourhood feel throughout. One of the best areas for food, drinks, and feeling plugged into local life.
El Cabanyal
Coastal and characterful, shaped by its fishing-village past. Colourful façades, traditional taverns, and a strong sense of identity. Close to the beach and home to some of Valencia’s most loved long-standing spots.
Camins al Grau / City of Arts & Sciences
More open and residential, with modern buildings, wide streets, and easy access to green space, the Turia Gardens, and the beach. Practical, well connected, and ideal for longer stays.
La Marina / Beach Areas (Malvarrosa & Patacona)
Beach-first living. Long promenades, seafood restaurants, relaxed cafes, and space to breathe. Feels separate from the city in the best way, while still being easy to reach.
Notes from the Road: Valencia
Valencia offered space and balance with its mix of beaches, neighbourhoods, architecture and food all working together.
Enough energy to keep things interesting, enough space to make it sustainable.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next route: Alicante.
Arriving in Barcelona. A New Chapter Begins
The drive from Zaragoza to Barcelona was three hours of pure sunshine and open road. The kind of journey that reminds you why slow travel is its own form of therapy. The motorway stretched through wide landscapes, broken occasionally by the silhouette of the Toro de Osborne standing high on the hills like a quiet guardian of the Spanish plains. Windows down, warm air on my face, music playing… it felt like one long, beautiful exhale.
I reached Barcelona early evening, just as the sky shifted into that soft dusk glow the city wears so well. After weaving through the wide avenues and tree-lined streets, I arrived at my Airbnb in Dreta de l’Eixample, perfectly placed for a 10-day stay.
Dreta de l’Eixample, my Barcelona Base
Eixample is Barcelona at its best with wide boulevards, elegant façades, balconies overflowing with plants, cafes, bars and restaurants on every corner and neighbourhoods stitched together by walkable grid blocks.
From here, I could walk to almost everything; the Gothic Quarter, El Born, Gràcia, even Las Ramblas. It’s central without being chaotic and has that lived-in, everyday charm that makes you feel part of the city instead of just a visitor.
The Airbnb itself felt like an instant reset with bright, spacious, high ceilings, beautiful tiles, personality, warmth and space for both me and Roly to properly settle. After weeks of aparthotels and hotel rooms, having a full apartment again felt grounding. A proper kitchen, a proper lounge, and a sense of “home” I didn’t realise I needed until I unlocked the door.
A Personal Note I Feel Ready to Share
I’d actually been to Barcelona once before in August, for my 40th birthday. The plan was simple and beautiful: celebrate this milestone in a city I’d always dreamed of visiting, surrounded by friends, good food, sunshine, and joy. But life had other plans.
In the lead-up to the trip, a series of challenging emotional events collided all at once, and my body reacted in a way I had never experienced before. I went into a dissociative episode, something I didn’t even have the language for at the time.
Medically, dissociation is described as a disconnection between thoughts, memories, surroundings, actions, and identity, often triggered by extreme stress or overwhelm. It’s the mind’s emergency brake, a protective mechanism that shuts everything down when the load becomes too heavy.
In real life, for me, it meant I wasn’t fully there. I was in Barcelona, with people I loved, on a milestone birthday… but internally I felt numb, distant, almost watching my own life from the outside. It was frightening, confusing, and deeply painful, especially when you’ve envisioned this moment for so long.
But I’m sharing this because it turned out to be a defining moment.
It reminded me of the importance of boundaries, of listening to my body long before burnout arrives, and of not carrying emotional loads that aren’t mine to hold. I’m a natural empath, and I’ve learned sometimes the hard way that care without boundaries becomes self-abandonment. The build-up of too many emotional demands had pushed me past my capacity, and my body responded the only way it knew how: by shutting down.
Since then, I’ve taken the time to understand myself more deeply. To rest. To reset. To rebuild routines that honour my mental and physical health first.
And honestly, this entire European road trip The Next Route is part of that healing. Travel has a way of clearing mental fog. It deepens clarity, and shows you parts of yourself you didn’t realise were waiting to be seen. I’ve stepped off social media, slowed down, become more present, and in many ways, I feel the most grounded and authentic I’ve ever felt.
And that’s why coming back to Barcelona mattered. It wasn’t just another stop. it was a chapter I needed to rewrite. A second chance to experience the joy, lightness, and magic that I didn’t get to feel the first time around.
So as soon as I checked into my Airbnb this time, I didn’t waste a second. I got ready, put on something that made me fabulous, and headed straight out into the Saturday-night energy of the city to enjoy tapas, music, people, life buzzing everywhere.
Barcelona, take two. And this time, I was fully here.
Saturday Night in Barcelona. Tapas, Music, Drag Queens & Pure City Buzz
After getting settled into my Airbnb and glamming up for my first proper Barcelona night out, I headed to meet a new local friend, the perfect way to ease into the city’s electric weekend energy.
Stop 1: GATS (Las Ramblas) for Tapas, Cocktails & Warm Vibes
We started the night at GATS, tucked just off Las Ramblas. It’s one of those spots that immediately feels inviting with soft lighting, lively chatter, stylish interiors, and major win fully dog-friendly indoors, so Roly joined the evening in true Barcelona fashion.
We ordered a selection of tapas to share. Add in some cocktails and new conversations, and it set the tone for a memorable night.
Stop 2: CHARLZZ Barcelona for a Live DJ, Red Lights & Drinks
A short walk later, we arrived at Charlzz music hall, a live-music bar glowing in shades of red with chandeliers, velvet seating, and a moody, retro atmosphere. Inside, the DJ was playing Latino music, people were laughing, dancing, vibing and yes, Roly was welcome here too.
It felt intimate but high-energy at the same time, the kind of bar where time disappears between songs.
Stop 3: Ocaña, Plaça Reial for Drag, Nightlife & Barcelona Energy
From there, we wandered over to Ocaña in Plaça Reial, a square known for its arched walkways, bustling restaurants, street performers, drag queens, artists, tourists, locals…
One of the drag performers working the square stopped to say hello. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and lively, the kind of place where you can sit for hours just soaking in the scene.
Stop 4: Madame Jasmine for Neon Lights, Good Vibes & Queer Energy
We ended the night at Madame Jasmine, a queer bar bursting with colour, music, personality and a crowd that felt beautifully eclectic.
Neon lights, people dancing freely, cocktails flowing, and Roly happily taking it all in from my lap like the seasoned nightlife companion he’s becoming.
It was vibrant and a fun final stop on a night that reminded me how alive Barcelona is.
Sunday: Slow Wanders, Quiet Streets & Casa Lolea Tapas
Sunday was a slower pace. I walked from Eixample toward Casa Lolea, a beautiful little tapas spot with an intimate, bistro-style vibe. The walk itself was a joy. As we got closer to El Born, the architecture tightened with slimmer alleyways, laundry hanging between balconies, warm terracotta walls, and that unmistakable beauty of the historic centre.
Casa Lolea was warm and buzzing when I arrived. I ordered a glass of rosé and their tuna tartare. It was a simple lunch but it hit all the right notes.
After eating, I wandered slowly back through the maze of streets, stopping at a bright, modern Asian supermarket out of curiosity.
Back in Eixample, the afternoon light bounced off the balconies and leafy trees, and the city felt calm in a way that only Sundays manage. It was the perfect reset day: light, slow, and exactly what I needed between Barcelona nights out.
Monday in Barcelona: Vet Errands, Coffee Culture & Cosy Terraces
Monday was one of those everyday-life travel days. First on the agenda: Roly’s health admin. I walked him over to Saluvet, a local veterinary pharmacy, to pick up some medicine. Super straightforward, friendly staff, and it felt good to tick off one of those practical tasks you always end up doing when you travel long-term with a dog.
Roly trotted out proudly, medicine sorted, tail wagging like he’d just accomplished a major mission.
From there, we wandered over to D. Origen Coffee Roasters, a cool, minimalist neighbourhood cafe filled with digital nomads tapping away on laptops.
It had:
great energy
strong coffee
big open windows
the buzz of people creating things
I settled in for a few hours of work, a productive, grounding pocket of time that balances out busy travel days.
Later, I walked over to El Nacional, one of Barcelona’s most famous food halls.
Inside, it was stunning with warm lighting, Christmas decorations, glowing bars, people sipping cava and eating under giant illuminated stars. But unfortunately… it's not dog friendly. So Roly and I admired the interior from the entrance before continuing on.
Just around the corner from the beautiful Mercat de la Concepció, I found Casa Amàlia, a cosy Catalan restaurant that is dog friendly inside and outside.
The terrace had a log burner glowing away, which instantly made it feel like a warm hug on a cool December afternoon. I ordered mussels in a coconut sauce with crusty sourdough. The staff were lovely, the food was delicious, and Roly curled up under the table like he owned the place. It was one of those lunches that reminds you why Barcelona is such a joy to live in for a little while.
By the evening, I was ready for a quiet night in at the Airbnb. I ordered Caribbean from Joosy Gastro on Glovo (Spain’s Deliveroo equivalent), the perfect comfort food to end a full but gentle Monday.
Tuesday: Gaudí, Wanders & a Banksy Afternoon
I started Tuesday with Roly at one of Barcelona’s great architectural icons, Casa Milà (La Pedrera). The building ripples like stone waves. Standing underneath its sculpted balconies with Roly posing out front felt like one of those “I’m in Barcelona” moments".
From there, we spent the morning wandering the Eixample streets. I did a bit of window shopping. For lunch, we walked over to Fa Patxoca, a casual local spot with outdoor tables and that cosy neighbourhood feel. I ordered gambas al ajillo, prawns simmered in garlic oil and a slice of pan con tomate on the side.
After lunch, I headed to the Banksy Museum. It was actually really cool to see some of his well-known pieces recreated full-scale. Roly came inside with me (another win for Barcelona’s dog-friendly energy) and just wandered through the rooms like it was the most normal thing in the world. He sniffed around, watched people, and seemed genuinely curious about everything.
We finished by walking up the stencilled staircase, Roly leading the way, and stepped back out into the daylight around an hour after exploring, feeling like it was a fun little detour. Interesting, easy, and worth the stop.
On the way back, I stopped for a drink at Café del Centre, one of the oldest cafes in the city. Sitting there with a glass of whiskey, people-watching, felt like the perfect way to ease into the evening.
Wednesday: Work Day & a Wind-Down Drink at Sway Soul Lounge
Wednesday was a full work-from-home day with the laptop out, coffee on repeat, Roly snoozing in different corners of the apartment like a little remote-work colleague. By the time early evening rolled around, I needed a change of scenery, so I wandered over to Sway Soul Lounge, a low-lit cocktail bar not too far from my Airbnb.
Melrose Café: The Most Cheerful Start to a Thursday
On Thursday morning I wandered over to Melrose Café, which is basically a pink dreamhouse turned brunch spot with all pink interiors, flower walls and neon signs. It’s fully dog-friendly, so Roly had the time of his life being fussed over by the staff while I ordered breakfast. The food was really good, and the team were so warm and welcoming. It was the kind of place where you can sit for a while, sip your coffee, and just enjoy the vibe of being surrounded by fifty shades of pink. Roly approved.
The rest of the day, I just wandered with no real plan letting the side streets, cafes and little moments guide me. In the evening, I ended up having drinks on the terrace below my apartment, where I got chatting to a local Spanish couple who were also out with their adorable rescue dog. It was a simple, relaxed end to the day, and one of those small travel moments that makes a place feel familiar.
Friday: Sunshine, Art, and a Little Barcelona Magic
I started the morning at La Sagrada Família, which feels even more dramatic in person than in photos. With the newest towers rising, it’s now set to become the tallest church in Europe, and you can really feel that vertical pull when you’re standing beneath it with all those gorgeous Gaudí details climbing towards the sky.
I wandered through the Christmas market outside and stopped at a small artist’s stall, where I ended up chatting with the woman who ran it. She was warm and full of stories, and I loved the colours in her work, so I bought a piece to take home. A little slice of Barcelona to have back in the UK with me.
After that, Roly and I found a bench in the park beside the basilica and sat in the sun for a while, just soaking up the atmosphere.
On the walk back to the Airbnb, I stopped at a cafe with a terrace for a late breakfast and a glass of cava, the perfect way to ease into the afternoon.
Saturday: Sunshine, Tapas, and an Evening with Barcelona
Saturday started with lunch at Bar Betlem, where I met a new local friend. We sat outside on the terrace, sharing tapas in the sun and chatting. It was easy, light, and very Barcelona.
By the evening, I wandered through the city with the Christmas lights switched on above the streets. The whole place felt festive with bright Catalan phrases hanging over the road, people out strolling, that cosy December buzz.
I ended the night at Casa Boney, eating at the bar with a view straight into the open kitchen. I ordered steak tartare and tagliolini aglio olio e peperoncino with cockles. It was one of those pleasant solo evenings where you don’t need a plan; the city just carries you along.
Sunday: A Long Walk, A Missed Cable Car & A Perfect Beach Ending
For our final full day in Barcelona, I decided we’d walk from the Airbnb all the way up to Avinguda Miramar to take the cable cars over the city. It took just over an hour but it was warm, almost summer-like, and the walk itself felt like part of the day rather than a means to an end.
We passed cafes opening for brunch, and one of Gaudí’s other masterpieces: Casa Batlló, its mosaic facade glowing in the morning sun. Even though I’ve seen it before, it still stops you in your tracks with those bone-like balconies, the wavy lines, the colours shifting with the light. A small moment of Barcelona magic on the way.
When we finally reached the cable cars, we found out they weren’t dog-friendly. Slight anticlimax, but honestly, it didn’t feel like a loss. By that point the sky was bright blue, the day was unfolding gently, and it felt like we were already exactly where we needed to be. So instead, we rerouted.
I grabbed lunch at Anardi, a Basque restaurant where I had prawns marinated so perfectly I could’ve ordered a second plate. Roly sat under the table like the sweetest little travel companion.
After that, we jumped in a cab and headed to Barceloneta Beach, a place I’d spent time last summer, and somewhere I was excited to revisit, especially with Roly. The beach wasn’t crowded the way it is in peak season, which made it even better. Roly ran straight for the water, absolutely living his best life, swimming and splashing.
I sat at a beach restaurant with a glass of wine, letting the sun warm my face while watching the waves and the people and the city just… exist. It felt grounding. A small, quiet moment of reflection before the next part of the journey. Honestly, it was the perfect way to end the trip.
A Closing Reflection: Barcelona, Again But Different
Coming back to Barcelona felt healing in a quiet way. The first time I was here, everything was overwhelming. I was physically present but emotionally elsewhere navigating dissociation, missing moments that should’ve felt joyful, and barely able to absorb where I was.
This second visit felt like reclaiming the city for myself. I walked the same streets but felt entirely different in them. More grounded, more present, calmer, clearer. There were flashes of sadness remembering what I’d missed, but also gratitude. Returning allowed me to rewrite those memories with new ones that felt lighter and more aligned with who I am now.
Barcelona gave me warmth, clarity, movement, connection, solitude, creativity, and pockets of joy stitched throughout the week. All of it mattered.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next stop: Valencia, a new city, new food, new beaches, new energy… and another chapter for me and my little co-pilot.
The Road to Madrid: Sunshine, Highways & a Midway Stop in Soria
The drive from Pamplona to Madrid was just over four hours. I set off under a sky that was completely clear, that bright winter sun that sits low but sharp, stretching across the windscreen as the road unfolded into the mountains.
Around the halfway mark, I stopped in Soria, a small, quiet town that sits between mountain ranges. I parked up and walked through rows of pastel and terracotta buildings, laundry hanging from balconies, locals going about their afternoon.
Lunch was simple but exactly what I needed before getting back on the road and it broke up the journey perfectly. From there, the final stretch into Madrid was smooth, the landscape flattening out as the city began to take shape on the horizon.
Arriving in Madrid: A New Base at Be Casa Valdebebas
After the long drive down from Pamplona, I arrived at Be Casa Valdebebas my home for the first chapter of Madrid. The neighbourhood itself is low-key with wide streets, modern apartment blocks and big open parks.
But the real appeal was Be Casa. Designed for nomads and long-stay travellers, it’s built around community and comfort with communal workspaces, a fully equipped gym, a bright lounge that always has someone tapping away on a laptop, rooftop views at sunset, and best of all, completely dog-friendly.
It felt like its own little ecosystem: a base where I could work, reset, and ease into the city. My plan for Madrid was a life in two halves; part of my time here in this peaceful neighbourhood on the edge of the city, about 30 minutes’ drive from everything, and the other half right in the heart of Madrid where the pace shifts instantly.
Settling Into Valdebebas
The first few days in Madrid were deliberately rooted in Valdebebas. This was the softer entry point with space to unpack, get my bearings, and ease into the city before diving into the centre.
Mornings often started at La Típica Bodega El Garnacho, sitting out on the terrace with coffee in the crisp winter sun. It felt like a true cross-section of the neighbourhood: locals, expats, dog walkers, people easing into their day without urgency. Easy, familiar, unpretentious.
Lunch at Carambola Café Bistró quickly became a highlight. The food was excellent, full of flavour, well priced, and thoughtfully done. Inside, it’s warm and relaxed, the kind of place that works just as well for lingering over a long meal as it does for opening a laptop and getting some work done with a glass of wine alongside.
Evenings stayed close to home. Dinner at Qalido brought a more refined note; polished, confident cooking without feeling formal. In between, days were filled with long dog walks through Parque Forestal de Valdebebas – Felipe VI, where wide open green space stretches in every direction.
I cooked regularly back at the apartment too, enjoying the luxury of having a proper kitchen again. I also squeezed in a nail appointment at Le Maise, and let the days settle into a flow that felt practical, spacious, and grounding.
It was the perfect soft landing into Madrid before shifting gears for the second half of the stay, right in the heart of the city.
Into the City: Brunch, Dogs & a First Proper Night in Madrid
By the weekend, I was ready to shift gears and head properly into the city. I parked up at El Corte Inglés parking right in the heart of Madrid. An easy, central base that made the transition seamless and I stepped straight into the city's energy.
Brunch was at Roge Madrid, meeting Thomas, a French man living in the city, who also had a dog, a husky called Pi. The food at Roge was genuinely good, and a couple of glasses of wine meant brunch quickly stretched into the afternoon.
From there, the day rolled naturally into bar hopping around Lavapiés, with Roly and Pi padding alongside us. Madrid is incredibly dog-friendly, which made moving from place to place feel effortless. Cafes, bars, terraces and restaurants welcomed dogs almost everywhere, making it easy to drift from day into night without breaking the flow.
Later that night, I headed north to Chamberí and checked into Avani Alonso Martínez Madrid, a stylish boutique hotel. It felt like the right close to my first real taste of the capital: lively, social, and spontaneous. Madrid, properly, had begun.
A Slow Sunday in the City
I woke up with a sore head on Sunday from the night before with no real agenda, which felt exactly right. The pace shifted automatically with a later start.
I spent the afternoon wandering without intention, drifting through the streets around Calle de Hortaleza, letting the neighbourhood reveal itself slowly. By the evening, appetite returned properly, and I headed for dinner at Bodegas Lo Máximo. It was the perfect choice for the mood: traditional, atmospheric, and reassuringly good. The kind of place where the food and wine flows easily, plates keep arriving, and the day closes without ceremony.
Monday, Split in Two
Monday unfolded in two distinct halves. The morning stayed focused and contained, anchored around Chamberí. I worked from coffee shops and co-working spaces near the hotel, easing back into routine after the weekend.
I settled in at Casa Foca – Work & Chill Coffee, a well-designed space that made it easy to get things done. Good coffee and breakfast, quiet concentration, people tapping away at laptops, it felt purposeful without being rigid.
Later, I wandered south towards the centre and stopped for coffee at Kohi Madrid. By the afternoon, Madrid pulled me properly into its streets. I drifted through Malasaña and Chueca, moving between neighbourhoods without much structure, letting curiosity lead. Vintage shops, independent boutiques, colour, people everywhere. I spent time browsing vintage shops and bought a cute, stylish corset at Disco Cherry Vintage.
Lunch was grabbed along the way at Lamucca De Prado casual, unplanned, exactly right before I continued wandering, watching the city move through its own rhythms.
It was one of those days that felt very Madrid: productive without being heavy, social without effort, and constantly shifting as each neighbourhood blended into the next.
Small Resets & City Greens
Tuesday was about maintenance and meandering. The kind of day that slips neatly into city life.
The morning started with a hair appointment at Nubians Hair Salon, tucked just off Jesús del Valle. One of those practical resets that quietly makes a place start to feel familiar rather than temporary.
Late lunch followed at El Social, and it genuinely stood out. Relaxed, great energy, and seriously good food. The ceviche was spectacular, fresh, vibrant, and perfectly balanced, easily one of the best I had in Madrid. What really elevated it though was the owner: warm, welcoming, and effortlessly generous. You felt looked after without it ever feeling forced. A place I’d recommend without hesitation for the food, the atmosphere, and the people behind it.
After eating, I wandered towards ardines del Arquitecto Ribera, a quieter pocket of green tucked between neighbourhoods. Locals stretched out on benches, dogs trotting past, people cutting through on their way elsewhere, everyday city life unfolding.
It was a satisfying kind of day: errands done, work fitted in, excellent food, and just enough green space to round it out.
Back to Valdebebas: Loose Ends Before the City Finale
The next day, I headed back to Be Casa Valdebebas to reset before the final stretch in the city. Packing, sorting bags, tying up loose ends. That in-between day that sits somewhere between movement and pause.
I used the time for practical errands, including a car wash and a wander around Centro Comercial Islazul. A bit of Black Friday window shopping, a change of scenery, and an easy way to tick things off without thinking too hard.
Nothing headline-worthy, but necessary. A day that quietly clears space so you can enjoy what comes next. After that, it was back into Madrid to spend the last few nights fully in the city.
Final Night in Madrid: Tapas, Cava Baja & One Last Loop
I headed back into the city for my final night, checking into Casual del Teatro Madrid, right in the thick of it. Central, walkable, and perfectly placed for a last proper send-off.
The evening unfolded exactly as it should in Madrid: a tapas crawl along Calle de la Cava Baja. No reservations, no overthinking, just moving from bar to bar, following the energy.
First stop was Taberna El Tempranillo. A classic opening move. Good wine, solid plates, busy in the way that signals you’re in the right place. From there, onto El Carmín.
After the tapas crawl, the night took an easy turn at La Vaca y La Huerta, where I met Frank, a photographer, originally from South America and now living in Madrid. Conversation clicked immediately. One of those effortless, no-context-needed chats that feels like it’s already mid-flow five minutes in.
We decided to carry the night on to Café Pavón, just nearby. Inside, the energy was already high with packed tables, overlapping conversations, drinks constantly arriving. We fell into conversation with locals and expats alike, the group growing naturally as people drifted in and stayed. Glasses clinked, stories bounced around, laughter cut through the room.
It was lively, social and exactly the kind of night Madrid does best. A perfect, slightly chaotic, very human end to my chapter in the city.
Closing Madrid, Back on the Road
My final afternoon in Madrid ended on Gran Vía, with lunch at Oven Mozzarella Gran Vía. Good Italian comfort food, easy atmosphere, and a front-row seat to Madrid’s constant motion before it was time to move on.
By late afternoon, I was back in the car, heading northeast. Rather than push straight through to Barcelona, I broke the drive with an overnight stop in Zaragoza. A practical stop, well-placed, and exactly what the journey needed.
I stayed at B&B HOTEL Zaragoza Centro, just across the river from the historic centre. A simple, comfortable stopover: enough time to reset, sleep well, and be ready for the final stretch the next morning.
Madrid had been full, social, grounding, and expansive all at once. Zaragoza marked the shift back into transit mode, the quiet pause between chapters before Barcelona waited on the other side.
Understanding Madrid: The Neighbourhoods
Madrid is large and varied, but once you understand its neighbourhoods, the city becomes easy to navigate. Each area offers a different version of Madrid life:
Malasaña I Creative, youthful and slightly chaotic. Independent cafés, vintage shops, record stores and nightlife. One of Madrid’s most energetic neighbourhoods, especially after dark.
Chueca I Stylish, social and central. Fashion-led cafés, wine bars and boutiques with a strong LGBTQ+ presence. Lively but polished, and very walkable.
Chamberí I Local, elegant and understated. Residential streets, traditional cafes, wine bars and markets. Feels lived-in rather than touristic, a favourite with locals.
La Latina I Traditional and food-led. Narrow streets, historic buildings and some of the best tapas spots in the city. Particularly lively in the evenings and on Sundays.
Lavapiés I Multicultural, raw and expressive. Street art, global food, alternative spaces and a strong local community. Less polished, more real.
Barrio de las Letras I Historic, literary and central. Charming streets, cultural landmarks and a calmer atmosphere, with easy access to museums and parks.
Salamanca I Elegant and upscale. Wide boulevards, designer shopping and refined cafés. More daytime energy than nightlife.
Retiro I Green, residential and relaxed. Built around El Retiro Park, ideal for long walks, slower mornings and a quieter city rhythm.
Valdebebas I Modern, spacious, park-filled and residential. Wide streets, new-build apartments and a calm, local feel. Good for longer stays, and dog owners, around 25–30 minutes from the city centre.
Notes from the Road: Madrid
Madrid met me halfway; part everyday life, part full-volume city. It lets you arrive gently if you want, then turns the dial up the moment you’re ready.
Valdebebas gave me room to settle in with routines, green walks, co-working life, good food close to home. The city centre flipped the switch with long lunches into evenings, bar crawls turned strangers into familiar faces, and each neighbourhood offered its own take on Madrid life.
What lingered was how easy it all felt. Deeply dog-friendly. Social without trying too hard. Energetic, but never cold. Madrid doesn’t chase your attention, it rewards curiosity.
It’s a city you can skim or sink into. Either way, it stays with you.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next route: Barcelona.
Crossing Into Pamplona on a Sunny Sunday
The drive from San Sebastián to Pamplona was short, just over an hour, but honestly one of the most beautiful stretches I’ve seen so far on the route. The sun was out in full force, that perfect, warm November light and the mountains rose around the motorway like a painted backdrop.
I first heard about Pamplona from a food vendor I met in La Rochelle who sold Iberian ham. Most people know Pamplona for the Running of the Bulls San Fermín, which is every July. It’s a festival that brings thousands from all over the world to watch (or run!) a centuries-old tradition through the streets of Casco Viejo. But outside of festival season? The city is quiet, walkable, and a peaceful reset in between routes.
Where I Stayed: My First Aparthotel, Kora Kiliki
Pamplona was my first aparthotel stay of the entire European road trip, and oh my gosh, it changed everything.
Kora Kilikí is a modern, beautifully designed aparthotel in Lezkairu, one of Pamplona’s newest neighbourhoods. Think clean streets, young professionals walking dogs, trendy cafes with laptop-friendly terraces and fresh bakeries.
The aparthotel blended:
co-living energy
co-working areas
a full gym (my room was right next to it, perfect for accountability)
a rooftop with incredible views
your own private studio with a kitchen, balcony, and mountain views
Kora Kilikí Manifesto
Our lifestyle and travel habits shape our understanding of the world.
Some will cover hundreds of miles just to visit what is expected. And then, there are free spirits: people who live their lives in discovery and, in every trip, discover life itself. At Kora, we are inspired by them.
We are a team of enthusiasts that don’t settle for the usual, but instead live up to our dream of creating spaces for those like us who don’t. Spaces designed not just to stay at, but for you to connect to people, to values, to the environment.
Spaces where moments, ideas, and hopes are shared. To where you may arrive alone but feel embraced, where you may get lost only to find yourself.
From where you may leave after one night or after a whole year, and either way, let your footprint remain, or let ours be imprinted on you.
Because at Kora, the choice is yours.
It summed up exactly why Pamplona, and this stay in particular, felt so grounding. After weeks of movement, Kora gave me something rare on the road: routine without restriction, comfort without stagnation, and a sense of belonging without obligation.
Sunday Night in Pamplona: Bulls, Stone Streets & First Impressions
On my first night in Pamplona, I headed straight out to explore the Old Town. Casco Viejo feels especially atmospheric at night and everything feels layered with history. It’s impossible to walk far without being reminded of Pamplona’s most famous tradition: the Running of the Bulls.
You see it everywhere; silhouettes of bulls, statues frozen mid-charge, countdown clocks ticking towards the next San Fermín, even small religious niches built into walls, watching over the streets.
I passed the monument to Ernest Hemingway, who helped immortalise Pamplona through his writing, and later stood in front of the Ayuntamiento, imagining these same streets packed shoulder to shoulder every July.
It felt like seeing Pamplona in its in-between state not the festival version, but the real one. Calm, grounded, and deeply proud of its traditions.
Sunshine & Mountains
I woke up to bright blue skies, mountains lined up on the horizon and the city already moving below. Sunlight poured straight into the room, the kind that instantly puts you in a better mood. Roly took up his usual post by the balcony doors, alert and curious, surveying everything like he was clocking the neighbourhood. It felt like a proper reset moment. Clear-headed, grounded, and ready to get going.
Exploring Pamplona by Day: Pintxos, Plazas & Local Energy
I headed out from Lezkairu and made my way toward the centre, passing wide avenues that slowly tighten into older streets as you approach Casco Viejo.
Pamplona during the day is quietly buzzing. Locals popping into bakeries, friends meeting for coffee that turns into wine, pintxo bars already setting up for the afternoon crowd. I wandered through Plaza del Castillo, the city’s social heart, where cafes spill out onto the square and everyone seems to know someone.
The beauty of Pamplona is that it doesn’t feel curated for visitors. It feels lived-in. Authentic. Pamplona might be best known for the festival once a year but the rest of the time, it’s all about balance.
Market Stops, Seafood Obsessions & Cooking In
Food shopping became part of my routine in Pamplona. The fish counters were full of giant prawns, fresh fillets and octopus.
This is where staying in an aparthotel really paid off. Instead of hunting for a table at a restaurant, I took the best bits home. After days of eating out, cooking felt less like effort and more like a small luxury, grounding, satisfying, and exactly what I needed.
It’s not the kind of moment that makes a flashy itinerary, but it’s the kind that stays with you. Good food, your own space, and that rare feeling of not just passing through a place, but briefly belonging.
The Days That Followed: Work, Workouts & Wandering
Pamplona isn’t a packed itinerary city. It’s more of a live well for a few days city.
My routine became:
Morning sunshine spilling into the room
Roly’s walk through Lezkairu’s wide boulevards
Hours of focused work from either my apartment or the communal areas
Gym sessions that made me feel human again
Evenings cooking or enjoying in a restaurant
Understanding Pamplona: The Neighbourhoods
Pamplona is small but layered. Every area has its own personality:
Casco Viejo (Old Town) I Historic, full of pintxo bars and plazas. This is where the Running of the Bulls happens
Primer Ensanche I Elegant streets, early 20th-century architecture, cafes, shops
Segundo Ensanche I More modern, grid-style, calm and residential
Lezkairu (where I stayed) I Modern, clean, young, safe, dog-friendly, full of cafes. A peaceful base only 10–15 minutes from Old Town.
Iturrama I Trendy, student-friendly, sociable
San Juan I Local, lived-in, authentic
Rochapea I Across the river, green and affordable
Mendillorri I Spacious, park-filled, great for longer stays
Eating, Exploring & Little Pamplona Highlights
Pamplona’s food scene isn’t flashy, it’s authentic. A few stops I found worth making a detour for:
El Horno de la Estafeta - good for grabbing pastries in the heart of the Old Town.
Akari Gastroteka - dishes that blend tradition and modern flair. Sit down for a relaxed lunch or early dinner with some wine.
Pescadería La Kontxa and Iruña Fruits - two great stops if you’re shopping for fresh produce or seafood.
Malafú a lively, modern restaurant.
Across the city you’re never far from things worth seeing between bites. Strolling through the Old Town, you’ll find historic landmarks like the Plaza de Castillo, a central square that doubles as a favourite meeting point for locals and visitors alike. Nearby, the Pamplona Cathedral and the old city walls and citadel.
And of course, you can trace bits of the Running of the Bulls route through the cobbled streets around town. Even outside festival season it’s fascinating to see where history so vividly meets today’s pace of life.
Notes From The Road: Pamplona Edition
Pamplona taught me that slower stops matter just as much as scenic ones, that comfort and routine can be a travel luxury, that good accommodation changes everything when you’re living on the road, that a city doesn’t need to be busy to be beautiful.
Now, it’s time for the next route.
Next route: Madrid.
