They call themselves gatos – cats. If you’re a gato you’re a true Madrilenian. Three generations at least. The people of Madrid are proud of this moniker, and rightfully so. But the sad truth is gatos are increasingly rare in this city of extranjeros – a word that literally means ‘strangers’, but is used to…
The bush trills with insects in the hour before dawn. Weaver birds chitter and call above us, their grass-woven houses bobbing in the morning breeze. Our little group is nervous. We step carefully through the undergrowth, the two rangers leading the way with loaded rifles on their shoulders. We’ve all been thoroughly briefed. There are…
Somebody once told me that if you want to go to India, you have to give yourself time. Time to see, to taste, time to sink into the spirit of the land – but most of all, time to get sick. Because even if all the other things leave you cold and uninspired, you will…
Dawn. Somewhere in Atlas Mountains, Morocco. Jim stares out at the mist-soaked valleys, which lie like the fallen limbs of sleeping giants, tangled in a duvet of fog after some Brobdingnagian orgy. I honestly think if I hadn’t been there, Jim would have just walked and walked, till he landed in the giants’ arms or…
When I think of Spain I think of a dog, handsome but dusty, sleeping in the shade of a tangled olive tree, while the sun beats down all around and the cicadas screech. Repeat that scene a hundred thousand times and you will have a passable impression of España. Of course, there are variations. The…