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

Barcelona

Our journey began in the Catalan capital of Barcelona, where we enjoyed some classic seafood paella before boarding our ship. The rice had absorbed the rich broth, and the heat from the cooking created a nice crust at the bottom of the pan. Tender squid, juicy shrimp, and mussels mingled with the perfectly seasoned rice. The diversity of textures and robust flavors in each mouthful gave us a true taste of the region’s iconic cuisine. We scraped the final grains of rice from the pan. Maybe one day I could make a paella as good as this to recreate this experience.

With only a little time before our cruise departure, we took a quick stroll down the famous Las Ramblas to soak in the vibrant city atmosphere, even though it was difficult to navigate while carrying our luggage. This was okay though as we’ve visited Barcelona before.

Valencia

Our first port of call was Valencia, known for its impressive medieval old town. We started in the bustling central market, but found out it was closed on Sundays, and instead only saw people outside selling old junk from their houses. The only interesting thing there were Spanish Pokemon cards.

We then visited the 15th century La Lonja silk exchange, a UNESCO World Heritage site noted for its Gothic architecture. Though no longer a center of commerce, this historic building transports visitors back to Valencia’s golden era. This grandiose building with its colonnaded central hall and twisting columns was the center of Valencia’s thriving silk trade for centuries.

As we arrived at the Valencia Cathedral, we were treated to an unexpected scene. Groups of children and adults dressed in elaborate traditional costumes were flocking to the cathedral. We thought this parade might have been part of the annual Las Fallas festival, but it wasn’t that time of the year.

On the edge of the old town, we visited the Torres de Serranos, a part of the city’s medieval fortifications from the 14th century. The towers rise nearly 20 meters high on either side of the gates. They were originally linked by a bridge over the road, from which arrows and boiling oil could be rained down on would-be invaders. Despite some damage over the centuries, the twin towers have survived as an imposing relic of Valencia’s medieval defenses.

One of the more whimsical sights we a cat door built into the wall of a building, and it allows the city’s stray cats to come and go as they please. Another sight was visiting the outside of the bullfighting arena. Even though there was no bullfighting event happening at the time, it still allowed us to see this iconic part of Spanish culture.

We were only able to scratch the surface, and next time we go back, we’ll go to stuff we wanted to go to but didn’t have time for like the City of Arts and Sciences complex.

Ibiza

Another stop along the cruise was in sunny Ibiza, which offers a vibrant mix of beachside relaxation and exploration of historic sights. During our recent visit, we discovered some of the island’s cultural gems, the island’s famous walled old town of Dalt Vila, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. From the window of our room on the cruise ship, we could see the Dalt Vila.

Strolling through Dalt Vila, the diverse architectural influences are striking, from the grand Catalan-Gothic Catedral de Santa Maria d’Eivissa to the humble whitewashed houses draped with vibrant flowers. We also spotted the 16th century Castell d’Eivissa perched atop the highest point. We could even spot our cruise ship docked at the port far below.

After taking in the impressive cathedral, we continued to stroll Dalt Vila’s labyrinth of narrow cobblestone streets. Flower-filled balconies and whitewashed houses flanked our path. The charming architecture and relaxed pace made it easy to imagine life centuries ago within these walls. Before heading back down the hill, we stopped at a cafe tucked within the city walls. There we sipped mojitos (albeitly overpriced), the perfect refreshing drink after ourwalk, and soaked in the ambience around us.

Our day in Dalt Vila provided a beautiful glimpse into Ibiza’s history and culture. Getting lost in its winding alleys while surrounded by medieval architecture was an unforgettable experience. We can’t wait to return to further explore this magnificent walled city.

See here for more of Barcelona, Valencia, and Ibiza

The fortified city was almost demolished in the 19th century but after much protest by the locals, it was restored and now it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

We happened to visit Carcassonne at the same time as the Carcassonne Game Festival – a Carcassonne board game themed festival. I had played the board game before, but I had no idea that it was connected to the actual medival city itself. People got to play the board game Carcassone inside the walled city of Carcassonne. How cool! There were other events like axe-throwing, archery, and bowling (using the little meeples as the pins)! If I was a kid, I would have definitely enjoyed it a lot.

There are paths to walk along the defensive walls of the city. Luckily by today the weather had cooled down compared to the previous days and it was actually comfortable walking outside.

As usual, the castle is built on top of a hill – it’s the best defensible position. But because of that, visitors have access to views down into the town.

The castle itself isn’t just a fortification, there’s also a city inside of it too. Mostly it’s souvenir stores and restaurants. From a local store owner, I learned that the animals in French don’t sound the same as in English – it makes a “quah quah” noise – the guy made what I thought to be a super strange noise at first as I walked by his store presumably to attract customers, and after giving him a super confused look, he explained what it was.

The storeowner was actually selling earthenware for cooking cassoulet, a local dish. The dish is said to have originated in the town of Castelnaudary, and is particularly popular in the neighbouring towns of Toulouse and Carcassonne. We got to try it at a place called Méli et Zéli. It’s a slow cooked stew with beans, sausages, and goose/duck confit. It’s super rich and heavy. The duck flavour is very apparent. I want to learn how to make this.

Next, we headed to the Châteaux de Lastours. They are the ruins of four castles sitting on top of a hill. We reached the base of the mountain, but we weren’t prepared to hike the whole thing, so instead we looked for a car road up to some sort of view point.

The road I could see go to the top was a single lane road and it wasn’t apparent whether or not it was a one-way, but after seeing another car go up, I decided to follow. I just hoped that there weren’t any cars coming the other way because it was either drive off a cliff or into the trees.

We found a wider part of the road and pulled over to get a good look. If we had more time, we would have hiked up there – it looked fun. I ended up going back town the same way, again hoping I didn’t encounter another car. Eventually I did, but luckily the speeds were slow, the road was bit wider at that point, and I was able to swerve enough just in time.

Check here to see more photos of Carcassonne

At the time we went, Iceland was one of the few countries in the world that allowed vaccinated foreign visitors. All that was needed was proof of vaccination – not even a pre-entry COVID test. The fact that most people were vaccinated meant that most people were not wearing masks in the city, but this was before even the Delta variant – it seems like so long ago now.

I had been itching to go travel somewhere since the pandemic began, and this was a very welcome nudge towards normalcy. Flying with Icelandair was the same as before: the seat and leg room is pretty comfortable, but there’s no food included with the airfare. The only difference is the extra bureacracy related to COVID, which increased how long it took each person to get through immigration, resulting in long lines after the plane. It didn’t help that we arrived so early in the morning that the food places weren’t even open yet and we had to wait in line while hungry. Eventually, we picked up the rental car and drove into Reykjavik for breakfast. We took the day easy by just exploring Reykjavik on foot, and took a nap in the afternoon when the jet lag caught up to us.

That night, we had probably the most memorable meal we’ve ever had at Tapas Barinn. The great thing about tapas is that as tourists, we get to try a little bit of everything as opposed to ordering entrées.

I even got to try some Flóki single malt whiskey. The smokiness from the whiskey actually comes from the barley smoked using sheep dung, a traditional cooking method. I also got to try some more brennivin like my last trip to Iceland – it’s essentially a grain alcohol (40%) and flavoured with caraway seeds, which gives it a sweeter flavour than something like vodka.

I had visited Iceland a couple years ago, but it was in the winter where there was only 4 hours of light per day, and even then the sky looked like dusk.

This time, travelling there in the summer, I didn’t see the night sky the entire time I was there. I could more clearly see and appreciate the nature around me, like the endless fields of moss growing on the rocks, and sheep freely roaming the fields.

It is thought that the Icelandic sheep were introduced to Iceland by the Viking settlers. Farmers allow them to freely roam around in the summer months, and as winter comes, they round them all back up again.

Like my previous trip to Iceland, we travelled along the Ring Road to see the waterfalls, and the volcanic beaches.

This is what the view at Seljalandsfoss looks like in the summer versus the view I saw in the winter. I had no idea Iceland could be so green. In the summer, people can even walk behind the waterfall, between the rock and the falls itself, but in the winter, the trail is closed because of ice.

Skógafoss looks about the same between summer and winter, except the vegetation is greener in summer.

A kitty even came out to hang out with us! As we were walking, the cat just walked up to us and stopped, expecting pets as a payment to pass through. After that, off it went.

Unlike travelling to Iceland in the winter, there were no restrictions (4WD) to drive up to Dyrhólaey in the summer. As we drove up, I could see why. The road was a set of steep switchbacks on gravel roads that were only a little more than two cars width – and there were no guardrails.

From the top, one can see the endless mountains, or watch the waves crash against the beaches of volanic sand.

The next day, we took a Superjeep tour to see ice caves on an active volcano known as Katla. The reason why it’s called Superjeep is because it can deflate its tires (for icy roads), and inflate them back up again depending on the terrain, but otherwise it looks like your typical Ford Excursion but with big tires.

The ice caves were located a ways in from the glacier. In summer, a lot of the ice had melted, revealing the volanic sand and rock underneath.

Only just now as I was writing this, did I realize we were travelling on a literal volcano, but I suppose it’s safe.

As we headed up the volcano, the lush, green vegetation quickly disappeared, revealing a rocky landscape with a mix of ice and black volcanic rock. Grey clouds covered the sky and it began to rain.

Eventually, the tour guide parked the truck, and we began our volcano hike. He brought his ice pick with him and used it several times to cut steps in the ice.

Despite the summer season, the temperature still felt like a mild winter. But it still meant the ice caves would not be as fully developed as in the winter season, and this could clearly be seen when comparing the ice caves from this trip versus the previous one. In fact, the winter ice cave was really more of a tunnel, while the picture of the summer ice cave was taken from the end of the cave with the camera pointing out.

The ice on top of the volcanic rock looked so alien that several movies used this place as a location for another planet. Rogue One was filmed in the area for the opening scene where young Jyn Erso hides from the stormtroopers. The movie doesn’t show the whole cave, but the similiarity is clear. If the movie had shown the whole cave, one would see why people call it the “Yoda Cave”.

It was nice staying in the cave for a bit as a brief respite from the rain. We made the mistake of wearing jeans for a multi-hour hike in the rain, and our wet clothes just made us even colder. We also got the chance to chat a bit with others on the tour. We met an orthodonist who practised in Greece by the name of Thanos (I wonder if he was aware of the MCU), and another who claimed to be a “voodoo priestess”, whatever that means.

The next morning, the plan was whale and puffin watching. It turned out to be an incredibly bad idea because I apparently get seasick, and didn’t get to see a lot. Even those who did see whales could really only see a small fin barely capturable on camera. Only a small percentage of people get to see the whale flying out of the water and crashing back down. Good thing the puffin watching was on a separate tour so I got to recover from the seasickness, but we decided not to go and instead gave the tickets away to another group that we overheard looking for tickets to the same tour.

Instead, we went to go get some Icelandic hotdogs for lunch. The key things that set it apart are the condiments, and the sausage. In addition to ketchup, and sweet mustard, they also add “remoulade”, similar to mayo with added herbs. The sausage uses lamb, as opposed to chicken/pork/beef.

Next, we headed to the Reykjanes Peninsula and the Blue Lagoon. We reached the tip of the peninsula and stood on the cliff watching the waves crash against the shore. If there was such a thing as the end of the earth, this was it. Despite strong gusts of wind, thousands of birds nested on the side of the cliff. From far away they look like white specks, but one can see them clearly with a good set of binoculars.

Next, we went for a relaxing soak at the Blue Lagoon, a man-made spa fed by water used by a nearby geothermal plant.

The water forms a milky blue colour from the high silica mud, and is supposedly good for the skin. They even sell super overpriced skincare products at the gift shop.

The area is beautiful with all the steam slowly rising from the hot springs with the light cool breeze. It would have felt like a whipping biting wind if not for the hot spring. You just submerge yourself until you feel not too hot and not too cold, and then relax with their cleansing silica face masks and a drink.

After leaving Blue Lagoon, we’d learned there was an active eruption happening at the nearby Fagradalsfjall volcano, and was happening slow enough such that it was OK to go see it.

A short walk from the parking lot led us to the lava flow. The trail continued upstream of the lava flow to the mouth of the volcano.

There were warnings for people to not walk too close to the lava flow because of risks of toxic fumes, but many did it anyway (as did we). Many curious hikers threw rocks on it just to find out that the lava flow had already hardened, even though there were still visible fumes coming out.

The hike turned out to be really long, and we weren’t really prepared to do a multi-hour hike at 20:00 in the cold, wind, and rain. As we reluctantly turned around, we saw people pointing the other and when we looked, we managed to catch a glimpse of the volcano spewing lava from afar. It makes sense now why people call it the “land of ice and fire”

It was surprising to see how watery the lava looked. I expected molten rock to be more viscous. The lava just spewed out in a splash. I felt super lucky to have seen such a sight.

As we walked back, I noticed these hexagonal patterns in the ground. Maybe this is how basalt columns form? From what I’ve read, under certain conditions, the cooling magma can cool in a way that forms these hexagonal shapes.

By the time we reached the parking lot, we were wet and cold (seemed to be a recurring theme by this point). Luckily there was a food truck at the parking lot selling hot soup.

The next morning before heading out to the Golden Circle, we started the day off with a nice brunch at Sandholt.

The unexpected star of the breakfast was the bread. As an amateur baker myself, this is the bread I aspire to make – it’s soft, light and airy with a crisp crust.

Next step along the Golden Circle was Geysir. The geothermal heat creates pressure underground causing the water to explode upward every few minutes. The entire area is filled with geothermal pools, some of which are so hot they’re bubbling from the heat and pressure.

It’s cool just to just stand in anticipation of the eruption. From looking at it, there’s no indication that it’s going to explode at all, and then it just does. At one point, the wind carried the water toward us and got us all wet, but luckily by the time the water hits the ground, it’s cooled down.

From the Geysir, we drove to Gullfoss. Unlike other waterfalls, this one has a unique feature where the water does a zig zag before hitting the bottom.

There were attempts in the past to build a hydroelectric plant here, but those efforts have not succeeded, and since then, the waterfall is now under government protection.

The last destination of the Golden Circle was Kerið crater. It’s believed that the crater formed through volcanic activity. Once the magma chamber emptied, it collapsed, forming the crater. The accumulation of water is not formed by rainfall, but is actually ground water.

On our last day before we left, we got the chance to try more Icelandic dishes. This time we had some lamb soup, dried fish, fermented shark, and some Einstök white ale, a local craft brew.

It’s not often that I would rave about soup, but I liked it so much I’ve been trying to recreate the flavour at home. It’s savoury soup with vegetables, lamb, and herbs/spices. I can’t say I was a huge fan of the dried fish and fermented shark though. The dried fish is served with butter and its flavour reminds me of super tough beef jerky with a light fish flavour, while the fermented shark has a texture of a ham with a soury tang. Perhaps it’s an acquired taste. The beer was great though.

That’s pretty much it for Iceland. We got the chance to try all sorts of local delicacies, and see a piece of nature we wouldn’t normally see in our part of the world. At the airport duty free, I even got to pick up some Brennivin, and a bottle of the Flóki sheep dung whiskey!

See more pictures of my trip to Iceland here

The Hague (Den Haag)

The first stop is The Hague in the Netherlands. It’s the home of the International Court of Justice (pictured above). This is the international court that resolves international disputes that the UN is involved in. It was involved in well known cases such as the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda to judge the perpetrators of the Rwandan genocide, and the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia to judge the perpetrators of crimes committed during the internal struggles in Yugoslavia that eventually led to its dissolution.

For lunch, we searched around for something to eat and we could try some herring since that’s a popular dish in the Netherlands. We found a street food stall near us not far from where we were and proceeded to go inside and order. One problem though… the entire menu was in Dutch and there was no English to be found anywhere. We stood there looking confused for a moment, before I piped up and simply asked the staff (knowing that the Netherlands has a very high degree of English literacy) what we should order. He simply replied, “herring sandwich!”. It’s raw herring preserved in a brine in a sandwich along with condiments such as raw onions and pickles. It’s got a nice fishy freshness to it (like sashimi), but a saltier and more sour flavour because of the brine. This is going to be one of those foods that I’ll crave once I leave and can’t get anywhere else.

Another cool place to visit in The Hague is the Madurodam – it’s a park built purely on minatures. Imagine famous landmarks in the Netherlands, like the canals of Amsterdam, old town city squares, and palaces, but in miniature form! As a fan of Lego, I can definitely appreciate looking at miniatures!

Rotterdam

Next, we drove to Rotterdam in the Netherlands and stopped by the Market Hall for more food (I’m always down to eat). This time, we had yet another Dutch speciality: the stroopwafel. It’s hard to say no to two thin crispy wafers with gooey caramel in between.

And because I really enjoy eating protein, I couldn’t resist trying some cured meat. I think this is more of a Spanish thing as opposed to Dutch thing though. I found the flavour way too salty for my tastes (and I use a lot of salt when cooking), but I’m not sure what it’s supposed to taste like.

The market hall also has a nice selection of spices – kind of apt considering their colonial past trading spice and other goods in the Dutch East Indies.

And of course cheese! It’s so nice to see all the wheels of cheese, in all these different colours and sizes.

Baarle-Hertog / Baarle-Nassau

After leaving Rotterdam, we headed towards Belgium – well kind of. The cool thing about Baarle-Hertog / Baarle-Nassau is that a border between Belgium and the Netherlands cuts right through the town in seemingly random spots. You could just be walking down the street along the main avenue of the town and randomly end up in the Netherlands, then in Belgium, and then back again.

On our way out of the town, we noticed lane lines that we hadn’t seen before in North America. At first, we didn’t know why the lines were painted like that, but upon closer analysis, the road is simply a road shared by both cars and bicycles and the red section shows where the bikes should be, and the grey area is the section where cars should be when passing a bicycle. By allocating a space for the car to pass, the cars don’t get too close to the cyclists, thus reducing the risk of an accident. How cool!

Antwerp

Soon, we were fully in Belgium in the city of Antwerp and took a stroll in the old town square. The buildings here look pretty Belgian because of the way the roof inclines – it’s as if there are little steps as opposed to a smooth incline (so-called stepped gables).

This concludes our successful first day of the trip! On day two, we will travel to Oosterscheldekering, Ypres, and Dunkirk.

Photos

• The Hague
• Rotterdam
• Baarle-Hertog
• Antwerp

Beef noodles: a soup noodle with big chunks of half fatty and half lean beef in a beef broth. One of the quintessential parts of Taiwanese food culture.

Hot pot: it’s the idea of taking a pot of boiling water or soup and cooking meat and vegetables in it. Pretty much anything goes here: any kind of meat, vegetable, mushroom, etc.

Stir fried morning glory: not a vegetable that’s common in Canada/USA, but can be found in Asian supermarkets. It looks and feels like green onion with a slightly thicker skin, but tastes like spinach and has a nice crunch.

Szechuan style spicy wontons: the wonton is very similar to other kinds of wontons (ground pork and shrimp in a dough wrapper). In this case, it’s got a spicy, yet savoury sauce that slightly numbs the tongue.

Xiaolongbao (soup dumplings): similar to a wonton as far as its filling goes (it can be pure pork, pure shrimp, or mixed) with a key difference in that it contains hot soup. They originated from Shanghai, but it’s made its way into mainstream Taiwanese cuisine.

Shaoxing drunken chicken: it’s essentially chicken that has been steamed and marinated in a brine of shaoxing wine and chicken broth.

Bubble tea: yet another famous part of Taiwanese cuisine. The original variant was a milk tea with tapioca pearls, but now it’s evolved and comes in many flavours, from any kind of tea to a fruit slushie, with either tapioca pearls or fruit jellies (or even ice cream!)

Grilled giant prawns: Prawns a pretty regular thing in a lot of places, but at the local Shilin nightmarket, they are fished out and cooked only when ordered – so they are guaranteed fresh. These prawns are also HUGE. The three in the photo were around half a pound in total.

Oyster pancake: a popular food at the night markets, it’s essentially an omelette (with added starch for thickness) with oysters inside, with a savoury sauce poured on top.

Popcorn chicken: can be summarized as Taiwan’s take on fried chicken. It’s got Chinese style seasonings such as five-spice, and Thai basil. It can be found at many street vendors and night markets.

Kaoliang wine: this wine is made from fermented sorghum. It’s got a nice strong kick, and not so much a wide flavour profile. This alcohol is a big export of the Taiwanese island of Kinmen

Three cup chicken: named after the three key ingredients for the sauce: rice wine, soy sauce, and sesame oil. The chicken is cooked in the skillet.

Mango shaved ice: mango chunks with mango ice cream on top of mango flavoured shaved ice. It tastes exactly like what one would imagine. The little purple and orange balls are made of taro and potato/sweet potato flour and are nice and chewy.

Of all the food I miss, I’d say it’s the beef noodles. That’s the one thing I have the strongest craving for and unfortunately for me, there aren’t any that I like where I live. To see other parts of my trip to Taipei, click here.

The buildings look old and rundown compared to what people in the west are used to, but I’m told they all have Internet connections. Seeing people selling things in the street is a common sight.

My friend’s mom spoke of how she used to get taken to school on these buggies.

My friend reminisced about the times he and his cousins used to play around this well as children. He spoke about it with a light smile on his face, so one could tell how he missed those simpler times.

I got a lot of strange looks from people in the village – it was obvious to them I wasn’t from around there. How often do they ever see a foreigner around town? Probably never. On one occasion, the workers on my friend’s family’s farm asked his cousin what I was doing there. For the entire time I was on the farm, I constantly felt their gaze. They even made a comment saying how they had never seen a guy with a man-bun before.

Their family is quite hospitable and prepared a meal for us – according to my friend, his aunt is quite known within the family for being a fantastic cook. The dishes themselves were the typical ones like paneer, chickpeas, and lentils, but she really knew how to control the spices. She was so happy that we all enjoyed her cooking and for my friend, it was a taste of nostalgia.

Check out this link for more photos of this village

This post is not so much an expert chef cooking something, but more so the chronicles of a noob trying to learn the art.

I knew I wanted to sous vide it (what is it?). I wasn’t going to mess around with baking temperatures and times and what not. The sous vide would make the texture and consistency perfect. So I went ahead and looked for recipes.

I found these two:

I pretty much did a hybrid of those 2 videos. Both of them show similar content as to how to season the lamb, but the first one finishes it in the oven and deep fries some herbs for additional aromatics, while the second one uses a blowtorch. I didn’t want to deep fry anything, and I didn’t have a blow torch. So this is what I did:

Ingredients for the seasoning

• 1 tbsp salt
• 2 tsp black pepper
• 80g Colman’s dry mustard powder
• 5 sprigs of rosemary

Ingredients for the glaze

• Leftover juices from the bag after the sous vide process
• 200 mL balsamic vinegar (could be more or less according to taste)

Instructions for cooking the lamb

1. Score the lamb (in a grid pattern with each cut around 0.75″ to 1″ apart)

2. Mix the mustard powder, salt, and black pepper together

3. Rub over the lamb generously
4. Put lamb and rosemary into the sous vide bag

5. Sous vide at 55 °C / 131 °F for 24 hours. Throughout the process, juices from the lamb will collect in the bag. Be sure not to dump the juices since it will be used laterPreheat oven to 232 °C or 450 °FTake the lamb out of the bag and put it into the oven. When putting the lamb in the oven, it helps to prop up the lamb with something like a steaming rack that can go into the oven so the bottom doesn’t get soggy. Alternatively, propping it up with tin foil also works.

6. Cook the oven for 10-15 minutes. The timing here isn’t so important so long as the meat has the right “look” that you want since it’s already cooked from the sous vide.

Instructions for the glaze

The glaze can be applied on the lamb or on the side. I opted to do it on the side since I didn’t know how the glaze would turn out.

1. Mix the juices from the bag and the balsamic vinegar
2. Cook it over medium high heat until it reduces to the point where when you put a spoon into the glaze, the liquid coats the back of the spoon instead of sliding off

The lamb was a fine addition to the rest of the meal we had!

Overall, the meat tasted great. The doneness and tenderness were spot on due to using the sous vide. Some parts of the lamb were unexpectedly gamier, but I think the rub wasn’t as evenly spread as I thought. Also, I think I left the lamb in the freezer too long since the quality of the meat itself had deteriorated a bit, making the lamb meat a bit rougher. The glaze itself added a bit of acidity to the savouriness which was welcome. So I think this was somewhat of a success!