Hola!

Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

As I’m currently sporting bad skin, frizzy hair, and a crooked spine courtesy of my heavy pack, I don’t expect a panting squawk of “it’s you!” a lá Catherine Zeta Jones. I do, however, have one nice excuse for my heat related frumpery – I’m in Madrid and it’s hot hot hot. I now have five weeks to slough the mildew from my skin, replace it with a tan, and acclimatise myself for a later jaunt to the tropics.

However, I’ve just spent the last four days in London, staying with a very dear friend who was visiting on a research trip. We’d both never really been before, and funnily enough, had the same reaction. Blergh. I’ve never been in a city that seemed to be so entirely characterised by ‘busyness’. There are amazing things to see, of course (the Tate Modern is incredible, and all the museums are free – hurrah!), and I’m sure there are wonderful areas to live, but in between seemed to be such a blur of rushing greyness. We did, however, unlike so many people visiting the UK, have no complaints about the food. Perhaps I have a slight predilection for all things potato, but we had some great stodge that fortified us for the days spent battling the tube.

However, one particular aspect of staying with this friend was food related, as she has a severe nut allergy. I’d always known this, but had never really appreciated how difficult it was for her until now. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but absolutely everything contains traces of nuts, possible traces of nuts, maybe one atom of a nut, and if that’s the case, she just can’t eat it. Food labels were read, products sourced and some were even brought over from Australia – thanks, lack of UK customs.

It really got me thinking about the way in which I travel, as for me, food is an integral part of the experience. To the detriment of my tailoring, I do tend to treat travel like a global buffet, sampling bits and pieces as I make my way. Thus I’m pretty excited about the whole tapas experience that Spain has to offer. Having zero Spanish (I didn’t even know the word for ‘beer’ – devastating), it’s such a pot luck, pointing to the menu and waiting to see what turns up. Add to this a night owl culture, super friendly (and, er, hot) people, and sangria by the cask, and I think I may have just found my home away from home.