Arriving in Madrid by train during the afternoon siesta, we caught the metro to Anton Martin station and walked down the deserted streets past shuttered doors, construction fencing, homeless people and a seedy looking strip club. So, this is Spain's capital hey? I really took a bit of time to warm up to Madrid, especially after vibrant Barcelona. We stayed in a beautiful hostel - a converted 18th century palace with a stained glass ceiling and a cushion covered...

If you discount the minor incident involving a puddle on the platform which culminated in my third and biggest stack in three days, attempt number two at our overnight train or 'trenhotel' was successful. Mark detangled me ("three slips you're out - time to buy some Jesus sandals." Ugh, not likely!) and we climbed aboard the Granada bound train. Mark had turned into Mr Paranoia at the thought of an overnight train, and clung to the bags with a fierce glint in hi...

It's our last day in Barcelona :-( Boooo! So, we head to La Sagrada Familia for the third time, determined to finally get inside. The first time we were on the bike tour so only saw the outside, the second time we rocked up late, the line was a mile long and we were due to meet Raissa. You'd think this time we would have a better game plan? Nahhh. Our night with Bob caused us to sleep in, we arrive to the same huge queues and slap our foreheads in disgust that ...

We started Tuesday off with a little more Gaudi. A stroll down Passeig de Gracia took us past four Gaudi designed houses - Casa Milan La Pedera, Casa Battlo, Casa Amatller and Casa Lleo Morera. Battlo is the easiest to pick as Gaudi's and arguably the most interesting with it's curved lines, bone-like pillars and colourful facade, while Amatller stands right next to it, contrasting starkly with its straight lines, square patterns, and victorian details. All are w...

We again arrive in Barcelona after our all-nighter in Ibiza, and she welcomes us back like a woman scorned. We rocked up at Ibiza airport feeling the sleep deprivation bigtime.The queues seem a mile long, our eyes are bloodshot. Mark pushes me around on the luggage trolley like a child. We've partied like 18 year olds and now we are suffering like 80 year olds. No regrets! Ok right now, maybe a little regret. We hardly speak to each other, all we can do is stare...