Iglesia de San Antón

As we explored Granada, we happened upon the Iglesia de San Antón. The church is a baroque church founded in 1534 by the Franciscan Terciaries.

It reminded me of the ornate Catholic churchs often seen in Rome.

The Resting Place of Royalty

Next we, explored the Royal Chapel, one of Granada’s most historically profound spaces. Here lie the remains of Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, the Catholic Monarchs whose conquest of Granada in 1492 marked the end of nearly eight hundred years of Islamic rule on the Iberian Peninsula.

Inside, a magnificent marble mausoleum sculpted by Florentine artist Domenico Fancelli depicts the monarchs in recumbent poses – Ferdinand in armour with his sword, Isabella in simple dress with her hands folded to symbolize humility.

The symbolism of their burial in Granada was deeply personal to Isabella; the city represented the culmination of her life’s obsession, the final Christian victory over the Islamic kingdoms that had ruled the Iberian Peninsula for centuries.

Adjacent to the Royal Chapel stands the Granada Cathedral, a grand Renaissance structure that dominates the city centre, and was built on the site of the city’s former mosque.

Artisanal Flavours of Granada

As we wandered through Granada’s narrower shopping streets, we discovered small artisanal shops selling local specialties that quickly became personal favourites. Candied nuts – pistachios, almonds, and walnuts coated in crystallized sugar – were impossible to resist, their nutty sweetness a perfect afternoon snack as we navigated cobblestone alleyways.

We also found Turkish delight, those jewel-like cubes of gelatin dusted with pistachios or coated in chocolate, a confection with roots stretching back through centuries of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern trade. These small shops, tucked away in corners we might have otherwise missed, represented the kind of authentic local commerce that rarely makes it into guidebooks – the sort of place where shopkeepers know their craft and take genuine pride in what they produce.

The Albaicín

We ventured into the Albaicín, Granada’s oldest neighbourhood, which occupies one of the city’s three main hills and feels like stepping back centuries into Islamic-era Granada. The Albaicín is immediately recognizable as distinct from modern Granada – its labyrinthine street layout, and narrow cobblestone alleys all follow the pattern established during the 11th century when the Zirid dynasty first settled here.

UNESCO designated the Albaicín a World Heritage Site in 1994, recognizing its rich legacy of vernacular Arab architecture harmoniously blended with Andalusian styles. Walking through these streets, the remains of the Alcazaba Cadima fortress walls, historic gates like the Puerta de las Pesas, and churches converted from mosques stand as reminders of Granada’s storied past.

During our exploration of the Albaicín, we stumbled upon a small artisanal perfume shop. Inside, the proprietor had created a compact museum documenting the historical methods of perfume production, with displays showing traditional distillation apparatus.

Ascending to the Sacromonte Caves

We decided to walk from the Albaicín up to the Sacromonte caves, climbing further up the adjacent hill overlooking the city.

The neighbourhood gradually transformed as we ascended – the tightly packed streets gave way to buildings with whitewashed façades emerging directly from the hillside, with good viewpoints of the Alhambra.

Sacromonte Caves: Architecture and Living Conditions

The Sacromonte represents a profound chapter in Granada’s history linked to the Roma people, originating from South Asia but historically misidentified as Egyptians, hence the term “Gypsies.” Roma communities settled in the Sacromonte from the 16th century, living in the caves due to social exclusion and developing the flamenco tradition there.

We spotted fruit trees near the cave dwellings: pomegranates, and tangerines that would have provided sustenance. They also coexisted with animals within and around the caves.

The caves are architectural responses to environment and marginalization: whitewashing the limestone interiors with plaster to regulate temperatures through hot summers and cold winters. This cooling technique influenced nearby houses as well. Forced displacement in the mid-20th century due to natural disaster risk ended the community’s residence, turning the caves into tourist sites while the Roma were pushed out. Seems strange that now that they are gone, the government is earning money from their story – and not the Roma.

Walking the paths, the views of Albaicín below and the Alhambra above framed the neighbourhood’s complex history.

A Culinary Experiment

We dined at Atelier Casa de Comidas, a Michelin-recommended restaurant with an open kitchen near Granada’s centre. The tasting menu included some fascinating dishes that showcased a blend of local and innovative flavours. One starter featured tomate fermentado con caballa – fermented tomato paired with rich mackerel, that offered a fun texture with a balance of acidity and umami.

The menu also included a refreshing gazpacho anisado con quisquillas, an anise-flavoured cold tomato soup served with small shrimp, paired with a homemade green curry of arugula and the citrusy note of finger lime.

On the heartier side, gurullos con morro de ternera Pajuna y thermidor de cigalas paired beef snout and a rich sauce usually reserved for lobster, enhancing the seafood-meets-land narrative. The veal snout was mildly interesting, but not my preferred flavour profile, nor texture.

The main dish of lomo de jabalí curado en Koji y botánicos was wild boar loin cured in koji fungus and botanicals, served with saffron pear, and a Romaine sauce

Despite the refined technical execution and creative flavour pairings, we enjoyed the meal, but ultimately found the overall flavour profiles less aligned with our personal tastes.

The Alhambra Generalife Gardens

Our final day was devoted to the Alhambra, Granada’s UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the finest examples of Islamic architecture. We started at the Generalife gardens, the summer palace and pleasure grounds of the Nasrid emirs.

Meaning “Gardens of the Architect” or “Gardens of Paradise,” the Generalife features tiered terraces with flowers, and fruit trees – pomegranates, figs, citrus – and flowing water channels and fountains that create a cool, sensory landscape.

Water’s central role symbolizes life and paradise in Islamic art.

The Alhambra Nasrid Palace

Inside the Nasrid Palace of the Alhambra, intricate mosaic tiles formed geometric and calligraphic patterns.

The palace’s crown jewel is the Court of the Lions, with its marble fountain supported by twelve stone lions channeling water in four directions, representing paradise flowing to the world. The Alhambra’s advanced water system animates its fountains and pools, blending engineering with artistic expression.

Surrounding halls feature plaster honeycomb-like muqarnas vaulting, engineered to play with natural light dynamically throughout the day. These domes and vaults are built from thousands of small, modular plaster pieces that fit together like a complex three-dimensional puzzle. Each piece is precisely carved and assembled, allowing the ceiling to achieve both its structural integrity and intricate, stalactite-like appearance.

This technique is not only decorative but also serves as a unique architectural solution that distributes weight evenly and creates celestial effects as light filters through.

See more of Granada here

Our private tour guide collected us from the port with an enthusiasm. As we left the port, I spotted something interesting: Morocco’s traffic stop signs read in Arabic script, rather than using the English “STOP” typical in so many other places, which I thought was pretty cool.

Where Two Oceans Meet

Cap Spartel, located approximately 14 kilometres west of Tangier, juts out 326 metres above sea level, a promontory that marks not only the meeting point of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, but also the northwestern edge of the African continent. The lighthouse standing sentinel on this rocky point was constructed by Sultan Muhammad IV in 1864, making it one of Morocco’s oldest lighthouses.

Near the lighthouse, a simple sign warned us not to feed the wild boars. The warning carried more historical weight than might first appear. The Barbary wild boar subspecies (Sus scrofa algira) inhabits the forested regions of North Africa, from Morocco through Algeria and Tunisia. An ironic thing is that Islam is the largest religion in Morocco, and they don’t eat pork, so whenever a boar is caught, they may be exported for sale elsewhere.

First Time Riding A Camel

Next, our guide arranged a camel ride on the beach as part of the day’s itinerary. While none of us explicitly asked for it, the camel ride was included in the tour package. The experience proved physically uncomfortable in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The animals had no traditional saddles, leaving my legs to dangle awkwardly while the camel’s gait sent jolts through my body with each step. At one point, the camel began walking the wrong way, and the handler slapped it on the head to correct its behaviour. This moment made me think about how these camels might not be treated well, and how we should avoid supporting such tourist activities next time.

The ride lasted approximately twenty minutes, though it felt considerably longer. The animal moved in jerky, unpredictable motions that kept me gripping tightly to avoid slipping sideways. When the time came to dismount, the camel lowered its head first, extending its front legs flat against the sand before tucking in its rear legs – a movement that made me feel as though we might flip forward over the animal’s neck. The whole experience left me tired despite sitting and with mixed feelings about the ethics of animal treatment in these settings.​

A Cave Made of Legends

The Hercules Caves hold a peculiar place between geology, mythology, and human labour. According to Greek legend, Hercules himself rested within these caves during the eleventh of his twelve labours, and some stories claim that he split the rock to create the Strait of Gibraltar. The cave’s opening to the sea has been carved into the unmistakable silhouette of the African continent, a feature believed to have been shaped by the Phoenicians in ancient times.

Yet the full story of the caves involves human hands as much as it does myth. Berber people quarried stone from the cave walls to craft millstones, and evidence of Neolithic occupation has been discovered within.

Obligatory Arranged Shopping Trip

Our guide’s next destinations were shopping stops, presented with an assurance that we weren’t obligated to purchase anything. Yet the dynamic felt awkward nonetheless. First came a rug shop, where a sales representative explained that hand-made rugs represented an investment, increasing in value over time with use. The pitch was not aggressive, but persistent. We remained sceptical – not only did we lack knowledge to evaluate what makes a rug worthy of its asking price, but the traditional designs on display clashed entirely with our home’s existing décor. It’s also not financially responsible to make a decision on a four-digit purchase within 15 minutes. We left empty-handed. The next destination though, a spice shop, proved more appealing.

The air hung with the mingled aromas of cumin, cinnamon, turmeric, and dozens of other powders and seeds. The vendor offered argan oil, a product for which Morocco is renowned. Argan trees grow nowhere else on Earth, thriving only in the arid and semi-arid regions of southwestern Morocco. We did end up selecting a few spice mixes and bottles of Argan oil to take home.

The Medina and Its Contradictions

Our guide seemed to possess a social network spanning the entire city. As we navigated the historical medina – that dense quarter of narrow alleyways where markets had operated for centuries – people would recognize him, calling out greetings. He’d pause to chat with shopkeepers and acquaintances, his connections evident in every interaction. The medina itself, however, told a different story about time and commerce. Once the true market of Tangier, it remains a marketplace physically, with shops lining the maze of streets. Yet the merchandise had largely shifted: where artisans once crafted goods by hand, now seems less likely.

The architecture retained its character – whitewashed walls, narrow passages designed for foot traffic, the occasional glimpse of a private courtyard, but the economic reality had transformed entirely. Another observation is that, despite French being an official language of Morocco, I heard it seldomly spoken. People spoke to each other in Arabic, and then English to the tourists. I didn’t even need to speak French at all, despite being comfortable enough in it to navigate around.

Meal Expectations Unfulfilled

Our guide led us to a Moroccan restaurant that catered entirely to cruise ship passengers and tourists, which assured us of safety in food hygiene, but a sign that the food wouldn’t be very good. As we sat down, we scanned the dining room and observed an absolute absence of locals. The meal opened with bread and mezze – a selection of eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes prepared simply but flavourfully. The first course confounded us: a puff pastry topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon arrived before the main dishes. This, we learned, was pastilla, a Moroccan speciality. Pastilla represents the sweet-savory fusion at the heart of Moroccan cuisine. It contained some meat wrapped in dough, but curiously topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon, creating a flavour profile we associated with dessert.

The main course consisted of chicken skewers with couscous, alongside beef stew and chicken stew (likely from a tagine, the traditional conical cooking vessel that permeates Moroccan cuisine). However, the dishes lacked adequate seasoning. The meat was tender enough, but without sufficient salt to draw out the spices’ potential, the meal felt somewhat muted.

The mint tea that concluded the meal redeemed the experience somewhat – hot, refreshing, infused with fresh mint leaves that had clearly come from somewhere nearby.

Returning Across the Strait

The ferry crossing back to Tarifa marked a transition from Morocco to Spain, from the medina’s complexity to European order.

Once we’d settled into our accommodation in Tarifa, we ventured to the hotel’s restaurant for seafood paella – a dish brimming with the flavours that a proper stock can provide, the broth enriched by the essence of shrimp, mussels, and fish. After a day navigating tours, negotiations, and sensory overload, the simple pleasure of excellent seafood felt like a proper ending, though ironically not a Moroccan meal.

Our time in Tangier offered cool highlights – the lighthouse, the legendary caves, and the medina’s winding streets. But the day also presented contradictions that made it memorable in unexpected ways. The camel ride proved far more uncomfortable than expected. The shopping stops tested our patience and skepticism. The restaurant catered so entirely to tourists that locals seemed relegated to a different Tangier altogether. Yet we’d glimpsed not merely the postcard version of a destination, but some of the friction inherent in modern tourism – the tension between preservation and commerce, between authentic space and commercialized experience.

You can view the photo album here

Three-Course Meal at the Airport Lounge and Flight Experience

Stepping into the Air Canada Signature lounge, we immediately noticed it bore little resemblance to typical airport lounges. Rather than the sparse buffet tables and limited offerings we’d encountered elsewhere, this space offered full meal service – a complete three-course dining experience with attendants who actually served courses, paired with a selection of beverages.Beyond the seated service, a small buffet stood available for those who wanted seconds or something different. When our flight was delayed, we had no complaints – it meant more time in this pocket of calm before the journey ahead. We were comfortable, well-fed, and far removed from the chaos of the terminal.

I finally got to sit in seat 1A. All the time I flew, the seat would be something like 22F or something. Not this time. I got first seat on the plane, positioned at the absolute front. Settling into a lie-flat bed on an overnight flight, I enjoyed the solitude and space that seat 1A afforded, soundly falling asleep and waking up on the other side in the morning.

Arrival and Immediate Pleasures

We touched down in Málaga, Spain (a coastal city in the Andalusia region, known for its beaches and proximity to numerous white villages) in the early evening. Rather than heading directly to our accommodation, we sought out something to satiate our hunger. We found a Georgian restaurant and ordered their grilled prawns – the proteins had developed a charred exterior from high-heat cooking that added a complex, smoky layer to their natural sweetness. The meat remained tender inside whilst the exterior had taken on deep caramelised notes.

We also tried khinkali, which appeared enormous compared to what we expected. These Georgian dumplings are traditionally filled with spiced meat and wrapped in dough, but what makes khinkali special is the broth sealed inside. We ate them by hand as tradition dictates, and when we bit through the thin dough, the warm, savoury liquid inside spilled out. The meat filling was generous. We endearingly referred to them as “dalongbao” (a reference to their size compared to their Asian dumpling cousins).

Morning Light of Málaga and the Drive South

The next morning we walked along Málaga’s beachfront, where the Mediterranean stretched to the horizon under clear skies. After grabbing brunch at a seaside café, we headed south, driving towards our next destination: Tarifa.

Driving in Spain quickly proved to be an unenjoyable experience. The roads are peppered with roundabouts, which require constant attention and adjustment. Speed limits switch suddenly – from 60 km/h to 100 km/h and then down to 80 km/h within a short span of 30 seconds. This made it tricky on highways where some drivers slow excessively to keep within limits, while others try to accelerate but are thwarted by the frequent changes. It felt like an exercise in patience. It went on like this pretty much all the way from Málaga to Tarifa.

The Windswept Town at Spain’s Southern Edge

Tarifa sits at the southernmost tip of continental Spain, positioned precisely where the Mediterranean Sea meets the Atlantic Ocean. This narrow geographic point creates something unique: the Strait of Gibraltar (the 14-kilometre-wide waterway separating Spain from Morocco) acts as a natural funnel for wind. When pressure systems align on either side of the strait, the air accelerates through this bottleneck with a phenomenon called the Venturi effect – wind speeds intensify dramatically as the air is forced through increasingly narrow space. On good days, wind speeds exceed 30 knots, which is precisely why Tarifa has become a destination for windsurfing, kitesurfing, and other wind-dependent water sports.

Our hotel embraced Moroccan design throughout its interiors. Ornate metal lanterns cast filtered light across the room, and swirling geometric patterns decorated walls and archways. The hotel even stocked the minibar complimentarily, an unexpected gesture that meant we could enjoy local beers, wines, and snacks without additional charges. This thoughtful detail transformed what could have been a standard hotel stay into something that felt genuinely hospitable and welcoming.

The town itself carries centuries of strategic importance. During AD 710, a Moorish officer named Tarif ibn Malik led an expeditionary force here, and the town was renamed in his honour, becoming the first Moorish settlement on the Iberian Peninsula. The most impressive remnant of this period is the Castillo de Guzman el Bueno, a Moorish fortress originally constructed in AD 960 on orders from Caliph Abderraman III of Córdoba to defend against raids from Africa. Its trapezoidal shape follows the contours of the hillside on which it stands. The castle’s name comes from Alonso Perez de Guzman, who famously defended it during a 1294 siege by the Marinids (North African invaders) in an act so selfless it became legendary. The castle now operates as a museum, and from its ramparts, visitors can see across the Strait to the Rif Mountains of Morocco.

We spent time walking through Tarifa’s old town, where narrow streets wind between whitewashed buildings. The historic centre still carries the imprint of its Moorish past in its layout and architecture.

One distinctive structure caught my eye: a tower by the waterfront resembling Lisbon’s Tower of Belém. Although visually similar, this tower is actually the Castillo de Santa Catalina. Its location offered strategic views over the Strait of Gibraltar and surrounding seas, serving various military and meteorological purposes through the decades. Beneath and around the castle, 20th-century bunkers and coastal defences are visible, highlighting the area’s long-standing importance in maritime security.

Beyond the town itself lies a remarkable feature: a man-made causeway connects Tarifa to the Isla de las Palomas (also called the Isle of Tarifa), a small island at the continent’s southernmost point. What makes this connection extraordinary is that on one side of the island, waves roll in from the Atlantic, whilst on the other side, they arrive from the Mediterranean. Walking across that bridge puts you at the official dividing line between two ocean basins.

Final Thoughts

The hotel stood out for its combination of good food and warm hospitality, making our stay comfortable and inviting. As for Tarifa itself, beyond the wind sports that define its character, I didn’t get a sense of a vast array of activities. The town serves largely as a launching point for those heading across the Strait to Tangier, Morocco, making it a practical gateway more than a standalone destination for exploration.

Photo albums here: Málaga, and Tarifa

Instead of fitting into simplified geographical labels, there’s a strong sense of being part of a culture formed in the crossroads of Europe and Asia, shaped by both the legacy of the Ottoman Empire and the reforms of the modern Turkish republic. Many people see themselves as belonging to a distinct Turkish identity.

Hagia Sophia’s Thousand-Year Transformation

Our first stop was the magnificent Hagia Sophia, a structure that embodies Istanbul’s identity more than any other building. Originally constructed by Byzantine Emperor Justinian I between 532 and 537 CE, this architectural marvel has undergone many transformations.

The building’s history reads like a political timeline of empires. For nearly a millennium, it served as the principal cathedral of Eastern Christianity until 1453, when Sultan Mehmed II converted it into a mosque following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. The Ottomans didn’t destroy the Christian elements but rather incorporated them into their Islamic architecture, adding minarets, a mihrab, and a minbar while preserving many of the original Byzantine mosaics. Even today it remains the centre of politics, having witnessed protesters unfurling a “Free Palestine” sign, before quickly removing it, presumably for a social media campaign. Other sensitive topics like the Armenian genocide and the population exchange with Greece reflect ongoing struggles with historical memory and national identity. Our guide tended to avoid these questions, due to their political sensitivity.

The transformation continued into the modern era when Mustafa Kemal Atatürk converted it into a museum in 1934, symbolizing Turkey’s secular reforms. For 86 years, it existed as a unique blend of Christian and Islamic heritage until July 2020, when it was reconverted to a mosque. This most recent change sparked international debate, but it ensures that this architectural wonder continues to serve as a living, breathing place of worship rather than merely a historical artifact.

What captures visitors’ attention immediately are the massive circular calligraphic roundels – some of the largest in the Islamic world. These wooden panels, inscribed by the Ottoman calligrapher Kazasker Mustafa İzzet Efendi, display the names of Allah, Prophet Muhammad, the first four caliphs (Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali), and Muhammad’s grandsons Hassan and Hussein.

The Christian mosaics that survive today offer glimpses into Byzantine artistry. During the Ottoman period, many were plastered over but not destroyed, allowing for their later restoration during the museum years.

The Blue Mosque: Six Minarets and an Architectural Controversy

Directly across from Hagia Sophia stands the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, better known as the Blue Mosque, completed in 1616 during the reign of Sultan Ahmed I. The mosque was designed by architect Sedefkar Mehmed Ağa as an imperial show of strength to complement the imposing Hagia Sophia. Its most distinctive feature – six minarets – caused considerable controversy when first built, as only the Prophet’s mosque in Mecca possessed the same number. Unlike Hagia Sophia’s converted structure, the Blue Mosque was purpose-built as a place of Islamic worship.

Minarets serve both functional and symbolic purposes. Their number indicates a mosque’s importance: most mosques have one minaret, significant mosques have two, and only the most important imperial mosques have four or more. Originally, muezzins climbed these towers five times daily to call the faithful to prayer, with the call projecting in all directions from the circular galleries.

The mosque earned its popular name from the more than 20,000 handmade İznik tiles that adorn its interior. These ceramic masterpieces feature intricate designs of tulips, roses, carnations, and lilies in predominantly blue hues, beautifully illuminated by 260 windows. The craftsmanship represents the pinnacle of Ottoman ceramic art, with each tile contributing to a harmonious whole that creates an almost meditative atmosphere.

During our visit, we observed the quiet distribution of Qurans to interested visitors, reflecting the mosque’s role as both a place of worship and cultural exchange.

The Basilica Cistern’s Mysterious Depths

Built in the 6th century during Emperor Justinian I’s reign, this underground marvel was designed to supply water to the Great Palace of Constantinople and Hagia Sophia. The engineering achievement is staggering: 336 marble columns, each approximately 9 meters tall, arranged in 12 rows of 28 columns, supporting the weight of the vaulted ceiling above.

The cistern’s most intriguing features are the Medusa heads serving as column bases. These carved blocks were discovered during restoration work between 1985 and 1987, having remained hidden for centuries.

Several explanations exist for these mysterious sculptures. Some historians believe the heads were intentionally placed upside down to neutralize Medusa’s legendary power to turn viewers to stone. Others suggest they were simply repurposed architectural elements from earlier Roman buildings, positioned for purely structural reasons. A third theory proposes they were placed as protective talismans against evil spirits.

The cistern’s Islamic history reveals an interesting cultural perspective on flowing versus still water. When the Ottomans conquered Constantinople, they largely abandoned the cistern because Islamic tradition considers moving water more spiritually pure than stored water. This cultural preference led to the cistern’s gradual neglect until its rediscovery and restoration in the modern era.

The atmospheric lighting and the sound of water dropping from the ceiling create an almost mystical environment that makes visitors feel like they’re exploring an underground cathedral. The wooden walkways allow close examination of the varied column capitals, some Corinthian, others Ionic or Doric, evidence that the builders sourced materials from diverse ancient structures throughout the empire.

Imperial Opulence: Inside Topkapi Palace

Topkapi Palace served as the primary residence of Ottoman sultans for nearly 400 years, and walking through its courtyards and chambers offers an intimate glimpse into imperial life. The palace complex is vast, containing multiple courtyards, residential quarters, administrative buildings, and the famous Harem, where the sultan’s family and concubines lived in seclusion.

The palace’s Sacred Relics chamber houses one of the world’s most significant collections of Islamic artifacts. These relics were brought to Istanbul in 1517 when Sultan Selim I conquered the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, establishing himself as Caliph. The collection includes items purportedly belonging to Prophet Muhammad himself: strands of hair from his beard, a tooth, his footprint, several swords, and most significantly, the Blessed Mantle (Hırka-i Saadet).

The chamber where these relics are displayed maintains a profound spiritual atmosphere, with an imam continuously reciting Quranic verses, a practice that has continued for centuries.

Whether one believes in the authenticity of these artifacts or not, their historical significance as symbols of Islamic leadership and spiritual authority is undeniable. The scholarly consensus confirms that Prophet Muhammad was indeed a historical figure who lived in western Arabia during the early 7th century CE, supported by contemporary Byzantine, Syrian, and Armenian sources.

The palace also contains remarkable examples of Ottoman craftsmanship and design. The tile work throughout the complex rivals that of Portugal’s Sintra Palace but with distinctly Turkish colour palettes and motifs[highlighted in visitor notes]. The various reception halls, and the sultan’s private chambers each tell stories of ceremony, diplomacy, and daily life in the Ottoman court.

The Harem quarters, often misunderstood as merely the sultan’s private domain, actually functioned as a complex social institution housing the royal family, their servants, and administrators. The intricate tile work, painted ceilings, and carefully designed spaces reveal the sophisticated court culture that governed the Ottoman Empire at its zenith.

A Culinary Disappointment: Fine Dining Falls Short

Our evening took us to a restaurant featured in the Michelin Guide, not a starred establishment, but one included in their recommendations. The experience proved disappointing. The meal began promisingly with traditional Turkish tea, and fresh bread. However, the execution fell short. While I generally like this cuisine, I didn’t enjoy their execution of it.

We began with a mezze platter featuring chickpea yogurt, spicy tomato spreads, stuffed grape leaves, feta cheese, and hummus. It looked good, but Each dish supposedly carried historical Ottoman connections, but the preparation lacked finesse.

All red meat was cooked well-done, reflecting traditional Turkish preferences that prioritize food safety over texture. While this cooking style has deep cultural roots, this part I had trouble getting used to.

I did enjoy the restaurant’s attempt to connect each dish to Ottoman history. The finale of apple tea was genuinely excellent. Even with the historical ambiance and cultural storytelling, the experience has room for improvement by international standards.

Farewell Moments: The Human Connection

Our most meaningful experiences came not from monuments but from human connections. Saying goodbye to our tour group at a local bar revealed the true value of shared travel experiences. The group had developed strong bonds, inside jokes, and genuine friendships over just a few days. While our tour guide occasionally seemed overwhelmed by the group’s energy and humour, his professionalism and knowledge enhanced our understanding of each site significantly.

I checked in together with one of our tour group members who happen to have the same flight connection as me, but in the process, the attendant mistakenly checked one of her suitcases under my itinerary, and I noticed it too late, causing us to spend time to work with the airline to return her luggage, a process that, thankfully, worked out a day later. I also met an Indian passenger on her first flight ever – traveling from India to Turkey to Frankfurt to Canada.

These moments reminded us that while Istanbul’s historic sites provide the framework for exploration, the people we meet, fellow travelers, guides, and locals enriches sightseeing into genuine cultural exchange. The laughter, shared observations, and collective wonder at ancient achievements created memories that we will carry with us.

Practical Observations: Modern Istanbul’s Challenges

The economic challenges facing Turkey were evident in pricing that approaches American levels despite significantly lower local wages. Inflation rates exceeding 47% in late 2024 have created substantial pressure on both residents and visitors. Unlike some nations, Turkey didn’t engage in excessive pandemic spending; however, several distinct factors have fueled inflation, such as persistent currency devaluation, lowering interest rates in the face of rising prices, and heavy reliance on imported goods (some even highly taxed). The political situation continues to generate debate, with critics arguing that democratic institutions have been weakened while supporters maintain that stability has been preserved.

The taxi situation in Istanbul remains problematic for tourists, with widespread reports of scams including overcharging, longer routes, and “broken” meters. The prevalence of these issues suggests systemic problems that detract from the city’s tourism appeal. Using public transportation or pre-arranged transfers appears advisable for visitors.

Istanbul’s airport stands out for its striking design and enormous scale (albeit with less than sufficient air conditioning), and amenities like business lounges with a mini golf course and a pool table give arriving travellers a strong first impression. However, this impressive gateway doesn’t fully hide the economic and social challenges that many people in Turkey face beyond its sleek halls.

See more of Istanbul here

How Water Built a “Castle”

We learned from our guide that each terrace is a natural bowl of travertine, a limestone deposited when hot, calcium-carbonate spring water loses carbon dioxide and solidifies. Over millennia the process stacked basin upon basin, producing a 200-metre cliff that gleams as if it has never known a footprint.

UNESCO recognised both the geology and the adjacent Greco-Roman spa of Hierapolis in 1988, ensuring stricter water-flow management so the terraces retain their snowy coat.

Ruins with Stories in Stone

At the hilltop the ground levels into the ruins of Hierapolis, founded by the Attalid kings in the second century BCE.

The theatre dominates the skyline. We hiked up to the top an watched the sunset.

The city sits atop the Pamukkale fault zone, a geologically active area responsible for both the mineral-rich hot springs and the site’s seismic instability. Major earthquakes are recorded in 17 CE under Tiberius and again, even more devastatingly, in 60 CE under Nero. The city was rebuilt with Roman imperial funds, but the threat of further destruction always loomed. Additional earthquakes in the 14th and 17th centuries CE led to significant structural collapse and abandonment by the surviving population.

Within the ruins, stray animals call it home. Among the stray cats and dogs, a turtle stands out, a pet-trade species now ranked among the world’s most invasive reptiles.

The Myth of Cerberus

South-east of the stage lies the Ploutonion, once famed as “Pluto’s Gate”. Ancient writers described sacrificial bulls collapsing here while priests emerged unharmed. Modern gas probes explain the trick: a fissure still vents carbon dioxide strong enough to reach lethal concentrations near the ground.

From the viewing deck we could see the statue of Pluto and Cerberus guarding the gate to hell.

The Bare-Foot Gauntlet

The guide offered us two options to go back into town: 1) to take the bus back, or 2) walk down the terrace – reluctantly, I opted for the second option.

Visitors must walk the slope barefoot, a rule that protects the fragile crust but punishes one’s soles like walking on Lego.

We chose each step carefully, hunting for the smoothest stripes between ridges. The descent stretched only a few hundred metres, yet the stinging pressure made it feel closer to half an hour, each step a tactical decision rather than a stroll.

A Welcome Shift in Flavour

Once we all made it down, our guide took us to a restaurant that happened to be run by Chinese immigrants in Turkey. We slid chopsticks through shrimp fried noodles, a flavour more reminescent of home, something welcome especially by now I was slowly getting tired of Turkish food.

Hot Air Balloons

As we prepared to depart the next morning, we looked back to see hot air balloons launching into the morning sky.

See more of Pamukkale / Hierapolis here

First Impressions of a Continental Bridge

The journey to Istanbul had begun with a business class flight, featuring a surprisingly excellent grilled duck leg – tender, juicy, and far exceeding expectations for airline cuisine. The connection through Madrid provided time to relax in the lounge before boarding Turkish Airlines for the final leg.

Turkish Airlines, the country’s flag carrier, serves traditional Turkish mezze platters on international flights, featuring selections like ezme (spicy tomato paste), muhammara (red pepper and walnut dip), and various cheese preparations. The cold appetizer service, while authentically Turkish, presents flavours that challenged my unaccustomed palates with their intensity and unique spice combinations.

Our first night’s accommodation was a newly constructed hotel that showcased both the promise and pitfalls of Istanbul’s rapidly expanding tourism infrastructure. While the breakfast buffet displayed beautiful presentation, the protein selection was limited. One memorable detail was the availability of purple olives, which are actually black olives that have been treated with a natural fermentation process, giving them their distinctive colour and slightly different flavour profile. The newly opened hotel gleamed with modern finishes, yet a closer look revealed shortcuts beneath the polish: water from the sink’s U-trap had a slow drip, hinting at rushed plumbing work.

Walking Through Conquest

In the morning, we met a subset of our group tour that also signed up for this optional walking tour. It began at the Gate of Charisius of the Theodosian Walls, the massive fortification system that protected Constantinople for over 1,000 years until Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II finally breached them in 1453. These walls, built in the 5th century, stretched for 12 miles and featured double lines of defence with towers and gates. The conquest of Constantinople marked the end of the Byzantine Empire and the beginning of Ottoman rule over this strategic city.

Our guide also shared a local idiom about fig trees, explaining that calling a “fig tree” appears complimentary but actually suggests they ruin everything around them – much like how fig trees’ aggressive root systems can damage foundations and infrastructure.

Mihrimah Sultan Mosque

We visited the Mihrimah Sultan Mosque, designed by the master architect Mimar Sinan in the 16th century. This mosque, one of two built for Sultan Süleyman’s daughter, demonstrates the sophisticated engineering and spiritual symbolism of Ottoman architecture.

Mosque architecture reflects Islamic principles and practical needs. The mihrab (prayer niche) always faces Mecca, orienting worshippers toward the holy city. The minbar (pulpit) stands to the right of the mihrab, while the main prayer hall remains free of furniture to accommodate prostration. The qibla wall (facing Mecca) receives the most decorative attention, often featuring intricate calligraphy and geometric patterns.

The building process showcased the ritual of wudu (ablution), which Muslims perform before prayer. The wudu process follows specific steps: first, practitioners state their intention and say “Bismillah” (in the name of Allah). They then wash their hands three times, rinse their mouth three times, cleanse their nostrils three times, wash their face three times, wash their arms up to the elbows three times, wipe their head once, clean their ears, and finally wash their feet up to the ankles three times. This purification ritual prepares both body and mind for prayer.

Church of St. Mary of the Spring

The Church of St. Mary of the Spring, known as Zoödochos Pege, represents a significant Orthodox Christian site. Emperor Justinian I built the original church here in the 6th century. The current structure dates to 1835, rebuilt after Ottoman forces destroyed the Byzantine-era building.

The church’s Byzantine art reflects the Eastern Orthodox tradition that survived the Iconoclastic periods of the 8th and 9th centuries. These paintings, featuring saints and angels with golden halos, represent the triumph of iconophiles (image-lovers) over iconoclasts (image-breakers). The artwork employs traditional Byzantine techniques, using gold leaf backgrounds to suggest divine light and eternal glory.

The holy spring beneath the church has attracted pilgrims for 1,500 years. Orthodox Christians believe the water possesses healing properties, and the site remains active for religious ceremonies.

Culinary Discoveries

Our lunch featured a carefully curated selection of Turkish dishes, including pide, often called “Turkish pizza” but more accurately described as boat-shaped flatbread topped with various ingredients. Traditional pide dough contains flour, yeast, water, salt, and sometimes yogurt or olive oil. The boat shape is formed by folding the edges, creating a rim that holds ingredients like minced meat, cheese, or vegetables seasoned with Turkish spices such as cumin, paprika, and parsley.

The meal also included various mezze spreads, including hummus and spicier preparations, along with vegetables cooked in clay pots – a traditional method that infuses food with earthy flavours while retaining moisture and nutrients.

The Art of Turkish Coffee

Turkish coffee preparation represents a centuries-old tradition that UNESCO recognized as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. The process begins with finely ground coffee beans, ground to a powder-like consistency much finer than regular coffee. The coffee is brewed in a cezve (a small, long-handled pot traditionally made of copper) with cold water and sugar if desired.

The brewing process requires patience and attention. The cezve is heated slowly over medium heat, allowing the coffee to warm gradually. As it heats, dark foam begins to form. The key moment arrives when the coffee approaches a boil – the foam is carefully distributed among the cups before the coffee itself is poured. This foam is considered essential to proper Turkish coffee service.

The resulting coffee has an earthy, intense flavour that can surprise newcomers. The grounds settle at the bottom of the cup, and the coffee is never stirred once served. The texture is notably different from filtered coffee, with a slightly grainy consistency that reflects the traditional preparation method. This coffee culture extends beyond mere consumption – it plays a role in social rituals, including traditional marriage customs where the bride-to-be serves coffee to the groom’s family.

Living History in Modern Times

Our exploration revealed parts of town where residents have built apartments directly on top of the old city walls that once surrounded Constantinople. These informal settlements demonstrate how Istanbul’s residents have adapted historic structures for modern needs.

Cruising the Continental Divide

The Bosphorus cruise provided perspectives on Istanbul’s architectural evolution across different periods and empires. This narrow strait, connecting the Black Sea to the Mediterranean, serves as the boundary between Europe and Asia, making Istanbul the only city spanning two continents.

As the ferry glided along the strait, we caught sight of Hagia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace (which I will get into in a later post).

Historic yalı (waterfront mansions) line the shores, representing the Ottoman elite’s summer residences. These wooden structures, many dating to the 18th and 19th centuries. People still live in these houses today, and for a time, they could lounge on their patio overlooking the river, but not many more due to the tourist traffic.

We observed the Ortaköy Mosque, a 19th-century gem celebrated for its ornate baroque revival design, delicate stonework, and prominent twin minarets.

The cruise also revealed the Rumeli Fortress, constructed in just four months in 1452 by Sultan Mehmed II as part of his conquest preparations. This fortress, along with the Anadolu Fortress on the Asian side, allowed the Ottomans to control Bosphorus traffic and cut off Byzantine supply lines.

From the water, we observed the Dolmabahçe Palace, a 19th-century Ottoman palace that served as the empire’s administrative center during its final decades.

The Spice Route’s Istanbul Hub

The Spice Bazaar, built in 1664 as part of the New Mosque complex, served as a crucial link in the global spice trade. Historically called the Egyptian Bazaar because it was funded by revenues from Egypt, the market connected Asian spice producers with European consumers.

Turkey’s position along historic trade routes gave it access to spices from across Asia, but the country also produces distinctive spices that reflect its unique climate and culinary traditions. Turkish red pepper flakes (pul biber) vary in heat levels and include smoky varieties like isot biber from Şanlıurfa. Sumac, made from berries of the Rhus coriaria bush, provides a citrusy tartness that’s become essential to Turkish cuisine. Turkish spice culture developed over centuries of trade and cultural exchange. The Ottoman Empire’s vast territory allowed for the cultivation and trade of numerous spices, while the empire’s diverse population contributed different culinary traditions. This history explains why Istanbul’s spice markets offer such variety and why Turkish cuisine incorporates flavours from across the Mediterranean, Middle East, and Central Asia.

The spice market today caters heavily to tourists, a far cry from what it used to be, with vendors selling everything from traditional spices to novelty items like “Turkish Viagra tea” (likely a blend of herbs with no proven medicinal properties). However, authentic spice shops still operate here.

An Unexpected Group Dynamic

That evening, we met with the rest of the tour group. Our group gathered around a street-side table in Istanbul, waiting for our eighth and final member who had been delayed. Our group had clicked immediately, and someone joked that the missing traveller might be the odd one out. At that moment, a man walked past our table with a distinctly sour expression. We called out the missing member’s name as a joke, not expecting it to actually be him – but it was!

His taxi driver had taken him on an expensive detour around the city (taxi drivers across Istanbul are notorious for being scammers), explaining his mood. Once he joined our table and shared his story, his demeanour shifted completely. Later that evening, several of us continued to a rooftop bar, where conversations flowed as easily as the drinks. Istanbul’s Sultanahmet district, where we stayed, contains numerous hotels with rooftop terraces offering views of the city’s distinctive silhouette of domes and minarets.

Our group of eight travelled around the country in a van, staying in budget hotels and exploring destinations that attracted a younger backpacker crowd. The tour format allowed for spontaneous discoveries and shared experiences that individual travel might have missed, as more posts will soon show.

See here for more images of Istanbul

We strolled through the lush highlands while our naturalist guide shared intriguing insights. Birds, including finches, often peck at algae or parasites growing on tortoise shells. Interestingly, they appear to leave a marker – possibly guano -to indicate to themselves or other birds that the area has already been picked clean.

A particularly captivating story the guide shared was about how the tortoises may have arrived on the islands. Some have been spotted floating at sea, buoyed by their shells. While saltwater ingestion typically proves fatal, a few may have survived the journey by avoiding it and eventually colonized the islands. Once here, they nested and established themselves over millennia.

Around the ranch, the scenery surprised us with its variety of fruit trees – papaya, passionfruit, and banana trees all grew nearby. These tropical plants thrive in the fertile volcanic soil of Santa Cruz, but we don’t see anything like them where we live.

As we left, a tortoise blocked the road—unhurried and unmoved by the vehicle. We had no choice but to drive around it, but it was kind of comical that it happened.

We felt immense gratitude to have experienced this cruise. The landscapes and wildlife felt remarkably undisturbed. Throughout our time on the islands, we did not see a single piece of litter. Nature here, however, is far from static. Our guide explained how El Niño and La Niña events can devastate local ecosystems. One such event wiped out over 90% of the coral. In ten years, climate shifts may again alter the islands in unpredictable ways.

Weather and ocean conditions were on our side. Due to the Coriolis effect, trade winds and ocean currents in the Galápagos usually flow from the southeast, driving the cool, nutrient-rich Humboldt Current from South America. These currents support a dense food web, influencing where wildlife can thrive and which islands are most biologically productive.

Our itinerary allowed us to see 12 out of the 15 recognized Galápagos species. We missed only the Galápagos albatross, flightless cormorant, and Santa Fe land iguana, which inhabit islands not included in our route. The sites on the islands weren’t arbitrarily chosen. The Galápagos National Park authorities control which vessels can visit which sites on which days, aiming to limit environmental impact and spread tourism evenly.

Each day followed a brisk schedule. Mornings often began at 6 or 7am with breakfast, followed by a midday break and lunch around 12pm. Dinner was served at 8pm. The tempo kept us moving constantly. By the end, we joked that we needed a vacation after the vacation.

Before heading home, we spent one final night in Quito before heading back. At the airport the next morning, we got to try chocolate from República del Cacao. This Ecuadorian company is a certified B Corporation, which means it meets high standards for social and environmental performance, accountability, and transparency. The chocolate itself was excellent, and is a testament to the country’s cacao heritage.

See here for more photos of tortoise reserve here

Buccaneer Cove: Of Pirates, Gold, and Birds

One of our first stops was Buccaneer Cove, a site with a storied past. This cove on Santiago Island earned its name from the British pirates and privateers who are said to have used the area as a hideout in the 17th and 18th centuries. While records are murky, tales persist of pirates burying their treasures on the islands, with some modern locals claiming that sudden, unexplained wealth might be due to hidden gold discoveries. Some even say that treasure hunters still try their luck in the archipelago, but much of the island is off limits as part of the nature reserve.

We also learned an intriguing theory from one of our guides: a few pirates may have sketched the various finch species they encountered here. While the link to Darwin is speculative, it adds colour to the idea that knowledge of Galápagos finches existed before Darwin’s famous visit in 1835.

Reading the Rocks and Skies

The cliffs at Buccaneer Cove were a patchwork of rock layers, formed by successive volcanic events. The prominent soft rock here is called tuff – a light, porous stone made from compacted volcanic ash. Though it appears sturdy, it crumbles easily and is unsuitable for climbing – ironically not tough at all.

White splashes of dried seabird guano marked active nesting areas, and sure enough, we spotted swallow-tailed gulls resting nearby. These gulls have unusually large eyes adapted for night vision, allowing them to hunt squid and fish by moonlight. Their red eye-ring and soft, grey plumage made them easy to recognize as they perched calmly along the cliff edges.

Blue-footed boobies also dotted the cliffside. These birds are known for their vivid turquoise-blue feet. Despite being skilled divers and fliers, they move with an awkward, waddling gait on land that makes them oddly endearing. Their nesting behaviour, typically right on bare rock or sand, makes them easy to spot during the breeding season. Potential mates evaluate their “blueness” as it is an indicator of their health. A more intense blue coloration is a sign of better nutrition, health, and immune function.

A curious sea lion followed us part of the way, occasionally surfacing to watch. Like many animals in the Galápagos, it didn’t beg for food or flee at our approach. It simply seemed to want to know what we were doing.

As we continued along the coast, we passed two distinct natural formations. One was what our guide called a ‘prayer rock’—a rounded boulder that looked carefully placed, almost as if set down with intention. The smoothness of its surface and its balanced placement made it look like a deliberate monument, though entirely shaped by nature.

Nearby, the so-called ‘elephant rock’ resembled the head and trunk of an elephant carved naturally over time by wind and sea. Its resemblance was uncanny enough that even at a distance, the shape immediately stood out against the cliffside.

We also glimpsed rays moving below in loose formations, visible only as yellow blurs swimming across beneath the surface. At one point, we caught sight of a land iguana resting near a scrubby outcrop. Our guide noted how lucky we were to see it in that area, since land iguanas are not often spotted from this route and typically stay hidden in less accessible terrain.

Exploring the Cove by Kayak

Later, we had the chance to kayak around the cove. I had tandem kayaked before (I wasn’t good at it), but this time I figure out that successful tandem paddling isn’t about synchronization. Instead, the front paddler provides rhythm and power, while the rear paddler makes adjustments to keep the vessel on course through wind and wave. Synchronizing is actually the wrong thing to do because it doesn’t account for how waves push the boat.

The conditions were manageable, but we did witness somebody’s kayak flipping over.

Puerto Egas Snorkeling

Later, we snorkelled just offshore, where we saw schools of fish swimming around – almost like a National Geographic documentary.

I’m not a strong swimmer and felt pretty uncomfortable in the open water. Even with the flotation gear, it took some effort to push past the initial anxiety and focus on what was in front of me. Seeing the vibrant fish distracted me from the anxiety of being in the water.

I’ve been linking a few of the cruise photographer’s images here and there, but the above is a video of the snorkeling that really shows the vibrant sea life below.

Puerto Egas Nature Walk

In the afternoon, we arrived at Puerto Egas. The terrain here differs from other parts of the islands, combining coarse black lava formations with tide pools, beaches scattered with bleached coral fragments, and hardened ash deposits. Puerto Egas has its own unusual history. In the 1930s, businessman Hector Egas tried to establish a salt-mining operation and even constructed a few buildings here. The enterprise failed, and some locals believe the land itself resists commercial exploitation – a sort of “curse” for those trying to profit from nature rather than respect it.

These coral fragments, according to our guides, are remnants of ancient reefs pushed upward by tectonic forces and long since fossilized.

We were fortunate enough to spot a Galápagos hawk, one of the islands’ apex predators and part of the famed “Big 15” species to look out for. It was perched atop a tall, cylindrical structure that looked like an old salt silo – possibly a remnant of the failed salt-mining enterprise once attempted at Puerto Egas.

A pair of brown pelicans performed a coordinated dive nearby. It was the kind of behaviour that still feels dramatic when witnessed up close. Their timing was precise enough to make me wonder whether it was intentional coordination or just well-honed instinct.

We soon encountered lava lizards darting across our path. They blended so well with the ground that we nearly stepped on them more than once.

Eventually, we spotted a land iguana up close, grazing on nearby vegation. These large reptiles are also on the Big 15 list. The land iguana’s yellowish scales, thick limbs gave it a prehistoric presence.

On the trail, we notice trails in the sand that looked like they had been scratched with a stick. Our guide explained that these were land iguana tracks. By following one, we managed to actually spot another land iguana.

One of the more unusual features along the trail was a massive piece of fossilized coral, now hardened into stone. It had eroded into patterns that almost looked like brain tissue, a reminder that this part of the island was once under the sea. Unlike the scattered white fragments on the beach, this coral was intact.

Nearby, we also came across a striking rock formation full of jagged ridges and hollowed-out cavities. Our guide explained that this type of texture forms when lava cools rapidly and unevenly, sometimes trapping gas bubbles that burst and leave behind porous, twisted surfaces. The result looked almost sculptural—like the island was frozen mid-eruption

Later on we stumbled upon another uncommon sight: the skeleton of a marine iguana lying out in the open. It was a stark and silent example of how unforgiving natural selection can be – even here, in a place where animals appear fearless and abundant, survival is never guaranteed.

We also saw amusing sights like a sea lion snoozing on the rocks with a Sally lightfoot crab perched on its tail.

We also spotted a Galápagos mockingbird nearby. While less flashy than some of the other wildlife, they are still an important part of the evolutionary story Darwin would later popularize. Unlike some other mockingbird species, Galápagos mockingbirds are not brood parasites; they build and tend to their own nests.

While Darwin’s finches were less prominent than we anticipated, we did see several. It was a reminder that the islands offer so much more than a single narrative of evolution. Researchers today still visit the island to do research on evolution.

Our guide even made calls to drawing more attention from the surrounding birds, and mentioned that sometimes they may even land on people’s heads. When we asked if he was the only one who could make those calls, he smirked and confidently said yes.

Shipboard Dining

One thing worth mentioning is the food onboard. Meals were generally simple but thoughtfully prepared, with most ingredients sourced locally and sustainably from the islands. This makes sense too since tourism to the islands is a big part of their economy – if the animals here die out, it’s bad for the people too.

The food was also on the healthier side compared to other cruises – the fruit juice they had, while freshly squeezed lacked the flavour that we’re used to because they don’t add sugar. Due to strict biosecurity and transport regulations, only a limited selection of products are brought in from the mainland. For example, any steak has to be pre-cooked before shipping. Despite the constraints, the culinary team consistently managed to create a wide variety of dishes with what they had, adapting creatively.

See here for the photos for Buccaneer Cove and Puerto Egas

Arrival In Quito

Our journey began with a familiar hiccup – another delayed flight. A storm within our flight path forced our plane to fly around it, delaying us an hour. Fortunately, we made the connection and arrived in Quito by afternoon. And another hiccup, our cruise package included an airport transfer, but no one from the cruise company showed up. After learning that Uber was technically not legal in Ecuador but still commonly used, we summoned a ride. Our driver wasn’t concerned, and the ride went off without issue, and we arrived at the hotel.

Brazilian Steakhouse

Dinner that night was at the hotel’s Brazilian steakhouse, Fogo de Chão. It operated on a simple system: green side up on your card meant “more meat, please”, and red meant “stop”. Servers rotated through the tables offering cuts like filet mignon, sirloin, pork ribs, and leg of lamb. Though the selection was impressive, the sheer volume of meat was overwhelming. We left the table stuffed to the brim and almost regretted that extra slice of steak. Afterward, we walked it off by exploring the hotel. Near the pool, hotel staff gave us food for the koi pond. The koi swam up in anticipation, mouths already open, having clearly learned the drill.

Touring Quito’s Historic Centre

The next morning, after a buffet breakfast featuring fresh passion fruit, guava, and plantains – fruits native to Ecuador – we joined our tour group for a full-day city excursion. Our first stop was Plaza San Francisco, located in Quito’s historic centre. On the top of a nearby hill, we noticed a statue with wings – known as the Virgin of Quito, is unique to the region and symbolizes the Immaculate Conception through Andean artistic traditions.

The adjacent church and convent, officially known as the Iglesia y Convento de San Francisco, is among the oldest religious sites in South America, constructed in the 16th century atop an Inca temple. Much of the interior and cloisters were constructed using locally sourced volcanic stone and alabaster. Its central courtyard was tranquil, framed by arches and dotted with trees bearing what looked like lemons and olives – some people even picked and tasted them right off the branches.

The city sits at an altitude of roughly 2,850 metres (9,350 feet) in the Andes, and the effects of high elevation quickly became apparent. Climbing stairs at the convent’s bell tower left me short of breath, apparently a common experience for visitors not yet acclimatized.

Indemini Báez Chocolate

Unlike bulk cacao used in mass-market chocolate, fine-flavour cacao is prized for its complex taste notes—often described as floral, fruity, or nutty—and is grown under specific conditions with greater attention to fermentation and drying. Ecuador is known especially for its Arriba Nacional variety, which has earned a reputation among artisanal and high-end chocolate producers worldwide.

Plaza Grande

Plaza Grande, also known as Independence Square, is surrounded by some of the most important civic buildings in the country, including the Carondelet Palace, which serves as the presidential residence and the seat of government. We also learned about the Ecuadorian political system and the country’s recent presidential transition. Our guide mentioned that voting is mandatory in Ecuador, a measure intended to increase civic engagement.

The guide also mentioned that if we hadn’t already noticed, Ecuador’s official currency is the US Dollar. They adopted it as its official currency in 2000 after a severe economic crisis. We’d brought some U.S. dollars, assuming they’d come in handy for currency exchange, without knowing the official currency prior.

Church of Gold

We also visited La Compañía de Jesús, a Jesuit church famed for its Baroque architecture and lavish gold-covered interior. Built in the 1600s, the church’s ornate design reflects both Spanish influence and local craftsmanship. The interior is said to be covered with more than 50 kilograms of gold leaf, adorning everything from the altars to the intricate ceiling mouldings.

The sheer amount of gold gives the sanctuary a warm, glowing appearance, especially when lit by candlelight. Despite the obvious value, theft isn’t a concern – access is tightly controlled, security is present during opening hours, and the gold is bonded to surfaces in a way that makes removal extremely difficult without causing noticeable damage.

Crater of Life

For lunch, we dined at a restaurant overlooking the Pululahua crater – the lunch was simple, but the view was the real draw. The owner also kept a few llamas on the property – one of them even spat out its grass at me.

Unlike most volcanic craters, this one is inhabited. Pululahua’s fertile soil and sheltered microclimate allow a small community to farm and live within the crater’s walls, shrouded much of the time by drifting clouds.

The City at the Centre of the World

The final stop was Ciudad Mitad del Mundo. This monument was built in the 18th century based on French geodesic measurements to mark the equatorial line. However, later GPS data revealed the true equator lay about 240 metres north.

Still, the site remains symbolic of Ecuador’s connection to the equator – “Ecuador” literally means “equator” in Spanish. When the country gained independence in the 19th century, it chose the name Ecuador to reflect its location on the equatorial line.

That evening, we returned to the hotel for a final dinner in Quito before we left for the Galápagos. The meal was delicious, but it didn’t quite compare to the indulgent buffet from our first night. This brief stop in Quito, nestled high in the Andes and steeped in colonial and Indigenous history, offered a nice intro to Ecuador.

See more of Quito here

We approached this visit with some trepidation, having read about Argentina’s hyperinflation and concerns about safety. However, with careful research and by sticking to the recommended neighbourhoods. We remained cautious, keeping our belongings close and avoiding overly crowded areas.

Our first challenge was getting an Uber. The first driver refused to take us because he wanted cash under the table, a common issue in Argentina due to the preference for cash transactions. Our second driver was much more accommodating and even pointed out landmarks as we drove past.

Exploring Recoleta

Our exploration took us through several distinct neighbourhoods, beginning with Recoleta. We passed by the Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar, a church built in 1732 that stands as the second oldest in Buenos Aires.

Next to the church, La Recoleta Cemetery ranks among the most famous burial grounds in the world. This city of the dead contains over 4600 vaults, many decorated with elaborate statues and intricate marble carvings. Perhaps its most famous resident is Eva Perón, the former First Lady of Argentina who was a powerful political figure and advocate for women’s suffrage and labour rights. Known affectionately as “Evita,” she became a cultural icon whose life inspired books, films, and a famous musical. Despite her enormous popularity among working-class Argentinians, her tomb remains relatively modest compared to the grandiose mausoleums surrounding it.

In the nearby Recoleta Garden, we came across an interesting sight – a massive tree growing on a concrete platform.

Continuing our walk, we came upon the Floralis Genérica, a massive stainless steel flower sculpture. Created by Argentine architect Eduardo Catalano and installed in 2002, this mechanical flower actually opens its petals each morning and closes them at sunset, mimicking the behaviour of a real flower symbolizing hope and rebirth.

We passed through a series of public parks where we saw people weightlifting in open spaces. It was interesting to see that people felt safe enough to bring heavy equipment like barbells and weights to exercise outdoors. This outdoor fitness culture suggested we were indeed in a safer area of the city.

Nearer to our hotel, we visited El Ateneo Grand Splendid, a former theatre that has been converted into one of the most beautiful bookstores in the world. Originally opened in 1919 as a theatre, the venue still retains its ornate ceiling frescoes, balconies, and stage. The theatre boxes now serve as intimate reading nooks, while the former stage houses a café.

Our walk in Recoleta offered a nice introduction to Buenos Aires, showcasing the neighbourhood’s blend of historical significance, architectural beauty, and modern urban life. Despite our initial safety concerns, we found Recoleta to be not only secure but genuinely welcoming, allowing us to relax and fully appreciate its considerable charms.

A Steakhouse Experience at La Cabrera

For our first dinner in Buenos Aires, we visited the renowned La Cabrera steakhouse. With our reservation at 20:30 – considered “early” by local standards – we were introduced to the Argentine custom of late dining. The steak arrived with a charred exterior and a tender, juicy centre. It arrived with a selection of dipping sauces, which are a staple in Argentinian cuisine. These included chimichurri (a tangy mix of parsley, garlic, vinegar, and oil), and mustard-based sauces.

One downside of the dining experience was the unexpected charges. Servers would present items as complimentary, but they’d end up on the bill after. We could have made a fuss, but we decided to let it go – it’s always harder in a foreign country with a language we don’t speak and without knowing the local customs. Despite this, the meal was still reasonably priced, especially considering the exchange rate.

Roux from the Michelin Guide

For lunch, we ate at Roux, a Michelin Guide-recommended restaurant (different from Michelin Star – the star would have reflected an even greater quality). The meal began with a “complimentary” foie gras, gazpacho, and deep-fried cod croquettes. Remembering our experience at La Cabrera, we were wary of additional charges, but this time we actually wanted these.

The adventurous highlight of our meal was llama carpaccio from the Jujuy Province with a cherry tomato vinaigrette, capers and caperberries from “La Chacrita”. Llama meat has a mild, slightly gamey flavour.

We also tried Jugoso Bife Black Angus Azul Natural Beef, served with potato, roasted red peppers, truffle air, and its own juices. The beef was rich and tender, with the truffle adding depth to the dish. While Roux delivered a refined dining experience with well-executed dishes and thoughtful presentation, we found that the flavors, while excellent, didn’t quite surpass the bold, hearty appeal of La Cabrera.

Dessert was flan-like cake with vanilla ice cream and dulce de leche. Dulce de leche is a staple in Argentina, found in everything from pastries to ice cream. It is a caramel-like confection made by slowly heating sweetened milk, which we noticed featured prominently throughout Buenos Aires.

An interesting thing to mention here is that even for an upscale restaurant here, the staff still did not speak much English. I did my best with the handful of Spanish words that I knew to get by. I would have thought that these establishments would have decent English, but they didn’t.

Landmarks in El Centro

Later, we walked around El Centro, which felt noticeably less safe than Recoleta with larger crowds and “shady” individuals sleeping/walking about. Nevertheless, we visited Teatro Colón, Argentina’s premier opera house. Opened in 1908, it is regarded as one of the best concert venues in the world due to its exceptional acoustics and grand architecture.

We also saw the Obelisk of Buenos Aires, a 67-metre-tall monument commemorating the 400th anniversary of the city’s founding. Located in the middle of a major intersection, it serves as one of Buenos Aires’ most recognizable landmarks.

Our walk to Mall Pacifico was uncomfortable, as we were repeatedly approached by money changers shouting “cambio.” Our fatigue set in at a good time when we had to go to the airport, for our final journey home.

The Final End of a Long Journey

Our Buenos Aires visit concluded what had been a remarkable expedition to Antarctica. The journey there involved two days of flying to Buenos Aires, one day of flying to Ushuaia, and two days crossing the Drake Passage. We’ve already done the three days coming back to Buenos Aires, and now we’ll do another two days on the plane back home.