2 Weeks in Portugal and Spain: Lisbon, Seville, Cordóba, Ronda, Granada, Madrid, Toledo
What a mouthful of a title, right? This trip is special to me because it was the first time I took the lead in trip planning: I was in charge of booking our hotels, meals, and figuring out transit logistics… and I did pretty well, if I do say so myself.
Our itinerary was jam-packed — it was our first time in Portugal and to these particular Spanish cities — but the fabulous public transportation systems made city-hopping a breeze, even for two very directionally-challenged girls (those quips about girls who spin around on street corners and start walking in one direction before reorienting to another, at the mercy of Google Maps? That’s us). Without further ado, here’s our experience of spending 2 weeks in Portugal and Spain.
Lisbon
Before we even set foot on European soil, our trip was already a whirlwind. Our flight from Austin to Amsterdam (where we would transfer to Lisbon) was delayed by more than an hour. This was a problem because we only had two hours of buffer to our connecting flight, and upon landing in Amsterdam, we would have to go through security again. As we edged closer to our descent time, we frantically calculated if we could make it from our arrival gate to our new gate and studied the Schiphol Airport map to memorize our sprinting route. After an agonizing delay on the runway, we ran through the airport, begged the other passengers going through the security check to let us move ahead in line (thankfully, they were all very courteous), and charged towards our gate… only to find that our flight to Lisbon had also been delayed. Hearts pounding with adrenaline, we sunk to the floor and waited.
Day 1: St. George’s Castle, Arco da Rua Augusta, Eneko Lisboa
We landed in Lisbon at around 5:30pm, checked into Memoria Lisbon, and immediately headed to the Castelo de São Jorge (also known as St. George’s Castle) to catch golden hour. The walk up to the castle confirmed that Lisbon’s hills were no joke. The next few days would provide constant practice in walking on incline. Thankfully, hiking is a prime example of the adage that nothing worth having comes easy: the castle is situated on the highest hill in Lisbon’s historic center, so the views were absolutely stunning. The city’s layered red-tile roofs and colorful, pastel buildings popped against the Tagus River, and everything gleamed with warmth as the sun slowly began to set. The image of this first evening — Lisbon looking serenely perfect as we huffed and puffed from our stressful journey — is forever imprinted in my mind, and the cityscape has joined the ranks of our favorites (Dubrovnik, Santorini, Shanghai…).
After being shunned by several resident peacocks strutting the castle grounds, we walked to the Arco da Rua Augusta, located in their main plaza, the Praça do Comércio. The enormous plaza is right by the river and centers around a monument to King Joseph I of Portugal; if you pass through the arch, you’ll head straight into lively pedestrian streets filled with restaurants and stores.
However, our time for wandering was limited. This was actually the trip that solidified my focus on ‘destination dining’ (hunting for establishments worth a detour, as the Michelin Guide would say) when planning travel itineraries. We took a detour indeed. We confidently hopped on a bus but realized we were moving in the wrong direction, so we got off at the next stop and fruitlessly refreshed Google Maps to see which buses we could take instead. Eventually, our impatience won and we hailed a cab.
Our first culinary stop of the trip was Eneko Lisboa, and it was a bit of a risky judgment call on my part: it had been awarded one Michelin star, but it wasn’t really on any tourist recommendation lists and Yelp reviewers seemed very divided between ‘underrated gem’ and ‘worst experience, got food poisoning.’ However, on their website, I read that the chef, Eneko Atxa, had founded Azurmendi, a three-Michelin-starred / World Top 50-ranking restaurant — and with tasting menus priced at around 115€ per person, Eneko seemed to promise a much better deal than most US fine dining experiences.
Words fail to capture my love for this meal. For a while, Eneko Lisboa was my mom and I’s unparalleled #1 (almost two years later, it has now been superseded by Saporium in Florence, but it’s a close tie; these were both flawless dining experiences). I still believe this restaurant sorely deserves more stars and recognition. Their tasting menu demonstrates mastery of sublime flavors of every kind: every dish tasted completely different and so good.
The meal starts with your party standing in a dark room, where the waiters will unveil an otherworldly picnic basket filled with treats to pique the senses. You’ll enjoy the beautifully-presented hors d’ouevres and a glass of wine, and once you’re seated in the main dining room, you’ll get to pick your tasting menu. From there, just sit back and enjoy each ‘moment’ (their chosen term to describe each course). Our first moment included a gelatinous mushroom, fig with foie gras, and an incredible local wine with herbs. It didn’t taste alcoholic at all, but I still pine for this divine beverage — what was in it?! How do I recreate it? Maddening! Next, we were delighted by the beetroot tartare paired with another amazing beetroot cocktail, a dish combination that truly does the entire beet genre proud. Every single dish caught us by surprise: creamy shrimp topped with somehow icy tomatoes (?), an eggy risotto-esque dish that tasted like home, impeccably crunchy and fatty suckling pig (a Portuguese must-try)… the ingredient combinations were unexpected but balanced perfectly, and we wouldn’t change a thing. Even the desserts were unique; we particularly enjoyed the chocolate dessert with olive powder and the pick-your-own petit fours cart.
Any description would fail to do the menu justice. It was unlike anything we’d experienced before. Our waiters requested feedback after each moment, and we had nothing but praises to sing. The restaurant is a little out of the way from the touristy areas of Lisbon (and is located in a bit of an odd alleyway), but it is certainly worth the detour. If you have time to walk around the surrounding area before dark, it’s just a few minutes from LxFactory, a historical industrial complex with arty retailers, cafes, and bars. What a perfect first night! I’ll be patting myself on the back for this pick for years.
Day 2: Miradouro de Santa Luzia, Jerónimos Monastery, Torre de Belém, Museu Calouste Gulbenkian, National Azulejo Museum, Carmo Convent
Since we’d arrived later than expected the day prior, our only full day in Lisbon was packed to the brim. When we first woke up, the view outside our window was shrouded in fog — Lisbon is by the ocean, after all — so I panicked and rearranged our entire day’s itinerary to accommodate, but by mid-morning, the sun was out and the sky was as blue as can be. We started off by trekking to Miradouro de Santa Luiza (‘miradouro’ means ‘viewpoint’), a charming plaza covered in azulejos (Portuguese painted ceramic tiles) and flowers. Even without the glow of golden hour, which can lend a little magic to even the most mundane of scenes, Lisbon still managed to take our breath away.
From the miradouro, we walked back to the Praça do Comércio to purchase our 24-hour Lisboa Cards, which provide unlimited access to public transit (bus, tram, metro, train lines to Sintra and Cascais) and access to 39 museums, monuments, and places of interest — including the Jerónimos Monastery, Belém Tower, National Azulejo Museum, National Coach Museum, National Ancient Art Museum, Santa Justa Lift, and other popular destinations. The 24-hour cards are currently priced at 21€ per adult or 13.50€ per child, which is absolutely worth it for the monastery alone. Note that there are separate queues at the monastery entrance for tour groups and people who needed to buy tickets on-site, so make sure you find the appropriate line.
The Jerónimos Monastery is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a prime example of Manueline architecture, a Portuguese style characterized by maritime motifs and ornamentation inspired by the Age of Discovery. The monastery, commissioned to celebrate Vasco da Gama’s successful voyage to India, is decorated with carvings depicting sea monsters, ropes, and nautical symbols. In fact, de Gama’s tomb is housed within the monastery. Portugal takes pride in this monastery as a demonstration of their wealth and power; I take pride in this monastery being the site of one of the best photos I’ve ever taken:
The composition! The elegant shadows of the cloisters! The apparent absence of other tourists! The dynamism of my mom’s contrapposto pose! I have a reputation amongst my friends as the go-to person for capturing everyone’s best angles, but I truly outdid myself here. I suppose it helped that this was the most beautiful monastery I’ve ever seen.
Our next stop was the Belém Tower, another UNESCO Site and another exemplar of Manueline architecture. The tower, situated at the mouth of the Tagus River, was a defensive fortress which once controlled access to the city’s harbor. As we waited in line to climb the tower, we enjoyed the sounds of street performers playing the violin mingling with the steady waves. When the line hadn’t budged for 10 minutes, my mom went to the front to investigate, and in typical operations-optimization fashion, ended up directing the flow of traffic as batches of grumpy people tried to exit while others tried to enter. We celebrated her problem-solving, but soon found ourselves regretting our determination to climb the tower, because there simply wasn’t much of a view. The tower only really has platforms and balconies facing the river, with no other foreground or background. What’s more, the singular narrow staircase meant that at any given time, there could only be one direction of traffic, so you’re forced to line up every time you climb up a level and wait in line again at each level to go all the way back down. Patience is a virtue we do not possess, so we practically galloped down the stairs each time our line started moving. By the time we escaped the clutches of the tower, we felt a deep resonance with the sour-faced tourists we had seen leaving while we were still naively waiting in our first line. It’s rare that we meet a tourist attraction (especially one on the UNESCO list!) that felt like a true waste of time — but if you’re interested in panoramic views (or if you hate waiting in lines), better to admire Belém Tower’s architecture from afar.
At this point, we were late for our lunch reservation at O Frade, a Michelin Bib Gourmand-designated, family-owned Portuguese restaurant. Luckily, they still had two spots for us when we arrived. The whole restaurant is one counter surrounding their open kitchen, so we could see the chefs preparing everything and be inspired by our fellow guests’ orders. Reviews suggested that their signature dish was duck rice, which was indeed delicious, but we also ended up enjoying the razor clams that we’d ordered because every other guest seemed to have ordered a plate.
After lunch, we headed to the Museu Calouste Gulbenkian, one of the world’s most important private art collections, including international works from Ancient Egypt to the early 20th century. We could have spent an entire day there, but with our packed itinerary, we rushed through the collection in about an hour. I found myself struck by the similarities between these global artifacts; for example, some of the plates from Turkey and Iran could be mistaken for Chinese porcelain. A Wikipedia search tells me that Turkish İznik pottery was in fact inspired by Chinese porcelain, prized by Ottoman sultans at the time. Nowadays, we primarily think about globalization’s influence on the economy or technology, but how has our increased access to other cultural aesthetics influenced art, architecture, and design? Are there any universal standards of beauty? Do contemporary artists have any shared styles in the same way that Impressionism reigned in the 19th century or Cubism shone in the early 20th century? In contemporary art museums, I rarely feel a sense of cohesion. Perhaps it’s good that this period of art is virtually limitless in terms of mediums, themes, and techniques. Rather than finding ways to innovate within a confined style, the absence of a dominant movement means that artists get to decide exactly what they’d like to express and how they will do so.
Yet, maybe there is value in finding some aesthetic common ground: frutiger aero of the early 2000s comes to mind. I grew up facing this utopian combination of glossy technology with naturalistic elements, and I now wonder if these once-prominent images subtly, positively contributed to my impression of what technology could be.
An image of hope?
What would a unified, optimistic 21st century aesthetic look like? We see cases of aesthetic convergence in the spread of online trend subcultures and their associated objects of consumption (K-beauty! Old money style! Le Creuset collectors! Pink pilates princess!), and there are definitely wonderful cases of cross-cultural appreciation (I’d even count the rise of fusion restaurants and subtitled foreign language entertainment in this trend), but any real consensus feels far away. If you were curating a contemporary art exhibit to represent the 21st century, what would it tell us? Art has always played a role in identifying our highest ideals. What does our art demand and hope for now?
I hope our shared vision for the future will include a large dose of generosity. After reluctantly leaving the Gulbenkian, we rushed to the National Azulejo Museum (National Tile Museum)… and arrived at 5:30pm when they were closing at 6:00pm. We missed the last entry slot, but the manager saw the desperation in our eyes and graciously allowed us to enter as long as we exited by closing time. The museum was stunning, particularly the ornate chapel adorned with gold, paintings, and covered in azulejos, but the half-hour experience felt especially precious because of the staff’s generosity towards us. Similarly, we were granted entrance to the unique, open-air Carmo Convent when we again arrived, out of breath, just before their typical 7:00pm closing time. Everything we saw that evening was something we might have missed out on. It’s lovely to feel lucky simply for being where you are.
Before dinner, we enjoyed gelato at Gelateria La Romana on Rue Augusta, the bustling street past the arch we’d visited the day before. Then, we headed on over to Terroir, acclaimed for its use of seasonal Portuguese ingredients and wine selection. Unfortunately, this meal fell flat for us: the service was great and presentation was well-done, but most dishes were slightly confusing or offputting. For example, we had a sour jellyfish starter, which was unique and didn’t taste bad, but it also didn’t feel like food. However, their wine pairing was pretty solid and reasonably priced.
Bonus: Last night of the trip!
This was a round trip, so after our time in Spain, we spent another evening in Lisbon before flying back to Amsterdam, then Austin. Our flight from Lisbon to Amsterdam was early in the morning and we didn’t feel like staying in a hotel only to leave at 3:00am. Instead, we watched a beautiful sunset at Miradouro da Senhora do Monte; enjoyed a ginormous feat at Solar dos Presuntos (their dishes were still saltier than we’d prefer, but as one of the few restaurants in the central tourist area that stayed open until 11:00pm, we weren’t complaining); and walked along the posh Avenida da Liberdade for a bit before camping out at the airport. We loved Lisbon, and this trip definitely increased our appetite for exploring Porto, the Douro Valley, the Algarve, and the rest of Portugal as well.
Seville
Day 1: Seville Cathedral and La Giralda
The next morning, we hopped on a one-hour flight from Lisbon to Seville, Spain, arriving at 9:30am. We’d assumed we could Uber from the airport to the city center, but rides were expensive and required a 40+ minute wait for what should have been a 16-minute drive. Thanks to Google Maps, I was able to find which bus stop was closest to our hotel, and speedily figured out the ticketing machine in time to get on the next bus.
At the time, I thought it was odd that there were three bus stops in ‘Kansas City’ before Seville’s city center — it turns out Seville and Kansas City are sister cities! We got off at the right stop and luckily, we were able to check in early at the Hotel Giralda Center. This was a new hotel with very comfortable accommodations and a central location; we had a great stay here.
We were both exhausted from waking up at 4:30am and I seemed to be coming down with a cold, so we rested until noon. Reenergized, we headed to Abaceria del Postigo for a light tapas lunch. This ended up being our favorite tapas place in Seville; we’d recommend the duck breast with mango puree. Then, we headed to the Seville Cathedral right next door. The Cathedral is a UNESCO Site which houses a certain infamous colonizer’s tomb (Christopher Columbus), carried by four statues representing the four kingdoms of Spain. It’s the fourth-largest church in the world and the largest Gothic church, and that scale is deeply felt. We spent hours in this church. There were rooms inside of rooms filled with art, a mini courtyard, and of course, the bell tower (La Giralda). The tower is a must-climb: from the top, a sprawl of white and pastel buildings radiate outwards from Seville’s central plaza.
Later, we headed to Bar Alfalfa for dinner. This is a tiny tapas bar and a local favorite — it was positively jam-packed with people, and we ended up having to wait for nearly an hour to be seated. We were a little miffed that so many parties were just sitting and talking (not ordering and eating!). By the time we left the restaurant after having several courses of food, most of the people we’d been waiting on when we entered were still there and still not ordering more! Perhaps this is a hot take, but if I’m only ordering one drink, I wouldn’t stay at a restaurant for two hours while there are evidently other parties waiting to order (even if you feel no goodwill towards tourists, at least out of consideration for the restaurant’s business?). However, even if we weren’t annoyed by the wait, I don’t think we’d have been impressed by the food regardless; the only real stand-out for us was the homemade jar of tiramisu we ordered for dessert.
Day 2: Plaza de España, Archivo General de Indias, Royal Alcázar of Seville, Setas de Sevilla
The next morning, we woke up early to catch the sunrise at the Plaza de España, which was originally built for the Ibero-American Exhibition of 1929. In the summer, sunrise is the best time of day to see the plaza in detail, with the soft morning light, absence of crowds, and relief from the blistering afternoon sun. There are four beautiful blue-and-white bridges, representing the ancient Spanish kingdoms Castile, Navarre, Aragón and León, as well as 52 mosaics depicting each Spanish province.
Once the sun was up, we headed to the Alcázar of Seville and were surprised to find an already-long line wrapping around the plaza for their first slot. We bought tickets online for 2:00pm — the earliest available time that day — and decided to head to the Archivo General de Indias first. These archives are another UNESCO Site, containing a massive repository of documents illustrating the history of the Spanish Empire. In total, the building contains more than ten kilometers of bookshelves. Of course, everything was in Spanish, so we couldn’t really understand any of the texts on display, but it was a reminder of the importance of documentation and preservation of history.
After cooling off in the air-conditioned archives, we decided to wander around some more, making our way through Seville’s busy, winding streets to the Setas de Sevilla, a wooden mushroom sculpture. It’s possible to climb to the top for another aerial view of the city, and there is a central market below its steps, but we just walked around to admire the structure from every angle. Apparently, its construction was controversial because Seville’s residents thought it was ugly. The modern design is a stark departure from the city’s otherwise cohesive appearance, and admittedly feels like Instagram bait. Nevertheless, it has found its place in the city as a tourist landmark and public gathering place; we saw kids playing and skateboarding on its platform and people taking refuge in its shade.
At this point, I was still feeling ill, so I stopped inside a farmacia where the pharmacist was able to recommend a sore throat medicine that ended up being incredibly effective. For that detour alone, I’m glad we decided to check out these giant mushrooms.
We curbed our thirst with some gelato and found a tapas place, Bar Baratillo, that opened ‘early’ for lunch (aka 12:00pm). We found ourselves reaching for our water glasses, as everything was quite salty, but I did enjoy what would become our go-to order: the Spanish omelette, made with eggs and crispy potatoes.
At last, we made it back to the Alcázar Palace. We reached the front of the line around 1:40pm and were forced to go to the back of the line again since we hadn’t reached our 2:00pm entry time yet. We tried to ask if we could wait by the side until 2:00pm, but alas, the two of us and several couples behind us were turned away. I hope now that a couple years have passed, they’ve started implementing a system of creating several lines demarcated by entry time, since that would be more efficient for everyone. Anyways, we may have been thoroughly cranky upon entering, but the amazing Mudéjar architecture — characterized by Islamic art and motifs applied to Christian architecture — was an impressive sight. The palace and gardens are large, so you’ll want to dedicate a few hours to examining these complicated geometric designs in detail.
We were planning to revisit the Plaza de España for golden hour, but when we arrived, they were fencing off the area in preparation for a lunar festival fireworks show. It was lucky that we’d visited in the morning! For dinner, we headed to the Hotel Alfonso XIII’s patio restaurant, Ena Sevilla, for a wonderfully non-salty meal. This restaurant has low ratings on Google and Yelp because it’s relatively expensive for tapas, but when in doubt, nice hotels are generally a reliable source of tourist-friendly flavors. We usually try our best to find authentic samples of local cuisine, but we have a low tolerance for saltiness, so Ena was exactly what we needed.
Córdoba & Ronda
Day 1: Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos, Roman Bridge, Jewish Quarter, Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba
We took a morning 45-minute train from Seville to Córdoba and dropped our bags off at the H10 Palacio Colomera, an excellent centrally located hotel featuring a rooftop bar overlooking the city. Little did we know, we were about to start exploring one of our favorite cities of the whole trip. Córdoba can be visited as a day trip from Seville, as well as Malaga (1 hour away by train), Granada, or Madrid (both less than 2 hours away by train), but we were glad we stayed overnight.
Córdoba is a unique place. It has the most UNESCO World Heritage Sites of any city in the world (there are 4, but one of them is a floral festival only held in May) with a fascinating history of religious and multicultural tolerance due its thousands of years of occupation by different groups, such as Romans, Visigoths, Muslims, Jews, and Christians. In contrast to the hustle and bustle of Seville, Córdoba is smaller, easily walkable, and filled with wide, winding streets.
Your first stop will likely be to the Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos, a historic fortress and palace which blends Moorish and Christian architectural styles. The palace itself is relatively simple; the stars of the show are its stunning gardens and courtyards. Under the sunshine, it felt like a literal paradise on earth.
After our leisurely Edenic stroll, we headed across the Roman Bridge to the Torre De Calahorra. We were originally just planning on climbing up for a view, but our tickets included an audioguide and we ended up being wowed by their well-curated exhibits and the story of Córdoba’s history. Córdoba reached its zenith during the 10th century under the rule of the Umayyad Caliphate of Córdoba, when it was a center of learning and knowledge. Scholars from different religious backgrounds worked together in translating ancient Greek and Roman texts into Arabic to preserve and pass down knowledge, and Jewish intellectuals made significant contributions to fields across philosophy, science, and medicine. Under Moslem rule, Jews and Christians were allowed to worship freely and to be self-governing. In the very first room of the exhibition, several figurines of Córdoba’s rulers ‘introduce’ themselves and their roles in history. One of the caliphs talked about how all religions should be accepted because all love is the love of God, thus all paths to knowing God are valid — a sentiment / mentality about religion that I hope more people will adopt.
Of course, the region was not always a peaceful, pluralistic melting pot (notably, religious tolerance took a huge hit when Christian forces reclaimed control of the Iberian Peninsula), but its history of tolerance is reflected everywhere you walk: every culture that has coexisted in Córdoba has been allowed to leave its marks.
We walked around the Jewish Quarter of Córdoba and had lunch at Casa Mazal, a fantastic courtyard restaurant serving traditional Judeo-Spanish dishes. This was the best couscous I’ve ever eaten! After lunch, we embraced the concept of siesta and rested until it was time for us to head to the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba.
I’ve seen many churches, basilicas, and cathedrals in this lifetime, but my favorite is undoubtedly Córdoba’s Mosque-Cathedral; not even my beloved, majestic St. Peter’s touched me as deeply. The Mosque-Cathedral was originally built in the 8th century as a Visigothic Christian church, and was later converted into a mosque. As can be found throughout the rest of the city, its architecture reflects a blend of Islamic and Christian influences and accommodates all forms of prayer — there are various chapels and altars alongside the mihrab, a niche in the wall indicating the direction of Mecca in Islamic prayer spaces. The horseshoe arches and intricate geometric patterns are hallmarks of Islamic architecture, while the nave and sanctuary in the center of the Mosque-Cathedral are characterized by Renaissance-style architecture. These seemingly discordant elements blend together seamlessly and poetically. The shared space does not demand or prescribe a single ‘right’ answer. While so much religious architecture is awe-inspiring, the Mosque-Cathedral is love-inspiring. It called to mind a quote from an article that my friend Xenya shared with me:
“If social media encourages the impulse towards expansion and self-aggrandizement at any cost, these moments, which seem like holy visitations, do the opposite. When I think about them, I want to fall prostrate. I want to retract myself, not in self-loathing or terror, but in deference to the vast, bracing loveliness of the world around me and the presence of its Creator.” (Yi Ning Chiu, Ekstasis Magazine)
I felt small, bearing witness to the indescribable beauty built over time by so many who loved their God centuries ago. What monuments does love inspire us to build today? In our current, fractured world, I can’t imagine anyone replicating this kind of space (not only physically! Many people could not even achieve such openness in conversation). If you look at the Mosque-Cathedral, and the other scientific and intellectual advances people were able to make by working together, one wonders what humanity would be capable of if we were able to rediscover our common ground.
We watched the sunset from the Roman Bridge, then scouted out a frozen yogurt shop near our hotel, smöoy, for a pick-me-up. What a fantastic establishment!! Their frozen yogurt rivaled our all-time favorites in Greece! They had a vanilla-banana mixed flavor that was so refreshing on a summer evening (we went back the next evening and each ordered another bucket).
It was a mistake to snack right before dinner, but I’m glad our stomachs were full of smöoy because our dinner was less satisfying. We tried the Michelin Bib Gourmand-awarded La Taberna de Almodóvar, supposedly known for its authentic, regional cuisine and Almodovar croquettes. The croquettes were fine, but besides being above-average in size, their flavors weren’t particularly memorable. In fact, the only memorable flavor of the night was that of sodium chloride: we rarely waste food even when we don’t like it, but the cod we had that night was truly unbearable. Nevertheless, not even our saltiest meal could put a damper on our love for Córdoba. We can’t recommend this city enough!
Day 2: Day trip to Ronda
The next day, we headed out on our most transit-intensive day trip: a 4-hour round trip from Cordoba to Ronda, involving one train transfer each way (again, Spanish public transit is easy, but this was a daring choice for the two of us! Every time we get on a train, we panic, unsure if we’re going in the right direction or getting off at the right stop until we reach our destination). Luckily, there was a tour group evidently headed for Ronda, so we followed them, reassured that we wouldn’t miss our stop.
Ronda is known for being a city on the edge of a cliff, with three dramatic bridges arching over the Guadalevín River. It’s considered part of the Sierra de las Nieves National Park, contains the oldest bullfighting ring in Spain (Plaza de toros de Ronda), and inspired artists like Ernest Hemingway (who called it the ideal place to elope) and Orson Welles.
We mildly hiked around to each of the clearly-designated viewpoints of the Puente Nuevo, Puente Viejo, and Puente Romano bridges, and walked around the Alameda del Tajo, an elevated park, but our main event was a 2-Michelin-starred lunch at Bardal.
Bardal has a full 5 stars on Tripadvisor, with some reviews calling this the best restaurant in Spain or even in the world. Never have we been so bitterly disappointed by a restaurant. We spent the entire meal composing our zero star review. This is the kind of meal where you’d regret not finishing every bite due to the price, then even more deeply regret having tasted it. Out of the 18-course lunch tasting menu, only one dish (essentially a chicken tartare?) was passably good; the remaining dishes were either too salty or too sour, even after we proactively mentioned this to the waiter (we almost never complain about the food during a meal, but it was that bad!).
Not a single dish possessed the sophistication or complexity one would hope for from a such a pricey meal. The eggplant was eggplant, the fish was fish. At this price point, to be boring would be disappointing but not unacceptable if the technique was strong, but some dishes simply did not taste good. There was no rhyme or reason in flavor or texture: for example, the combination of tomatoes and mint with the Albacora tuna seemed decorative rather than intentional, with no synergy achieved between the components of the dish. The sea anemone was unpleasantly bitter, and I will never recover from the disgust I felt eating fried baby goat brain. This was the first time in my life I seriously contemplated veganism (to be fair, veganism or at least vegetarianism has real planetary / animal ethics benefits, so I should be more seriously contemplating it regardless).
Bardal’s presentation is undeniably artful, but since Ronda is a day trip or half-day trip for most tourists, you don’t need to waste a single minute here. We left genuinely perplexed at Bardal’s positive reception.
I was shaken by my poor choice of restaurant for our limited time in Ronda, and the experience left me wondering what I’d been hoping to get out of the experience and what makes a place ‘worth’ visiting for a tourist.
We included Ronda in the itinerary because we were drawn in by the otherworldly views of the canyon and its bridges. The sight in-person is certainly majestic, but I think it’s hard to compare the ‘value’ we get out of time spent visiting places like Ronda, where the main goal is simply to see something that’s already been photographed thousands of times, versus places like Seville and Granada (with more established historical artifacts) or Lisbon and Madrid (larger cities with museums and many tourist attractions). Even if you aspire to explore smaller towns that are less overrun by tourists in search for some sort of unspoilt ‘authenticity,’ Ronda still occupies the touristy niche. Wandering its streets did not endow me with any special view into Andalusian culture, and I doubt overnight visitors staying for only a day or two would achieve much additional insight. The majority of people we encountered there were other tourists walking from viewpoint to viewpoint as though the city was a movie set.
Perhaps Ronda would feel more meaningful to a bullfighting aficionado or a hardcore Hemingway fan recognizing references to its dramatic scenery in his work, but for most people, investing the time and money to spend four or more hours on a train to see a postcard view would not top one’s bucket list. So, if you’re a typical tourist — not a photographer or someone with special interests in a place — why go to ‘hidden gems’ outside of tourism’s most well-worn paths? Shouldn’t you stick to places where you’ll have the most to see and do?
If your goal is sightseeing, I would recommend somewhere like Madrid over somewhere like Ronda. However, one of the reasons I find travel so compelling is that the whole process, from planning to actually navigating a new place, constantly puts me in situations outside the confines of my daily routine. Thus, regardless of which specific sights I’ve viewed or missed, I come away from each trip with a better self-understanding based on my reactions, decision-making, and most memorable moments (and if I’m traveling with someone else, it’s a way to see them, too: how do they handle difficult or stressful situations? What do they pay attention to, what are they moved by? — and in that reflection, I can isolate even further which qualities I value in myself and others). This may seem like a self-absorbed perspective on travel, whose chief value is touted as opening one’s eyes to lives and cultures beyond your own, but isn’t seeing different ways of living also obliquely a form of understanding your own position better? How else do we actualize this new insight into the world, if not sensing and vocalizing a change in ourselves? Travel enables us to discover new lenses through which we may examine our daily lives, only because it also shows us how our perspective has been changed from our default.
My mom and I’s brief time in Ronda has become one of our most-talked-about stories from this trip. In our nervousness about navigating the trains and the crushing disappointment of Bardal, we recognize our determination to see ‘rarer’ sights (a need to be ‘different,’ and an acknowledgement that as we both get older, our time together and physical abilities will only grow more limited); our willingness to ask others for help; and our consistent preference for turning every experience into a silly travel story rather than dwelling on negativity.
Additionally, for all of my qualms about Ronda, we were still wowed by the unreal structure of bulging rocks along its gorges. This was the only ‘natural’ sightseeing we did on the trip, as most of our time was spent gaping at man-made wonders like cathedrals and museums. When facing nature, detached from curated exhibit descriptions, we are asked to draw our own conclusions. Here’s mine: we are mere campers on earth. In Ronda, humans have literally inserted civilization on top of nature — tiny, fragile homes dot the mountaintops and sit beside rivers which were here long before us, and which will outlast us as well. People each generation dedicate their blood, sweat, and tears to create monuments which are painstakingly preserved over the generations; we desperately, fervently maintain our creations. Nature impresses without even trying; a constant backdrop to our fleeting endeavors. Each natural landscape I’ve seen when travelling has broadened my sense of time-scale, making awe and humility easier to recall.
I suppose my response to that earlier question about what makes someplace worth visiting is: if you have the chance, travel anywhere! The most popular destinations are lauded for a reason, but as long as you are committed to open-mindedness in your departure from your routine life and thoughts, I think it would be hard to come away from any trip unchanged. I’ve had epiphanies on business trips to other U.S. states! I think people expect the mere act of traveling to transform them, so they find themselves underwhelmed, when in truth, such change requires effort on your part to look closely, interpret, reflect, and wonder. What you take away from a travel experience (or indeed, any experience at all!) is entirely up to you. With an intentional approach, you may find that any place can be ‘worthwhile’ for you.
Granada
Day 1: Catedral de Granada, the Alhambra
The next morning, it was time to depart from our beloved Córdoba and head to Granada. We quickly checked into the Hotel Puertas de las Granadas, then started by walking to the Mirador de San Nicolás viewpoint, typically recommended as a spot to view the Alhambra at sunset. We also stopped by the lovely Catedral de Granada.
We’d been unreasonably lucky with the weather thus far, but alas, the sun did not shine on the destination we were both most looking forward to — the Alhambra, one of the most famous monuments of Islamic architecture. Practically speaking, it was probably fortunate that we didn’t have to walk around the complex with the sun beaming down on us, because even with the cloudy sky, those 20,000+ steps defeated us. The entire complex includes the Nasrid Palaces, the Generalife Gardens, the Alcazaba Fortress, and other gardens and courtyards, spanning a total area of about 35 acres. I don’t know how the royals did it!
The Alhambra was constructed during the Nasrid Dynasty in the 14th century and features signatures of Islamic architecture: incredibly intricate geometric patterns, arabesques, and muqarnas (stalactite-like ornamentation), delicate stucco work, and colorful tilework. It was like the Royal Alcázar of Seville’s sprawling big sister. Perched atop a hill, you can see panoramic views of Granada and the surrounding Sierra Nevada mountains from the Alcazaba Fortress.
Madrid & Toledo
Day 1: Royal Palace of Madrid, Plaza Mayor, Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum
The train ride from Granada to Madrid takes around 3.5 hours, so we set out for another early morning and arrived in Madrid at around 10:30am. We dropped off our suitcases at the 7 Islas Hotel and grabbed a quick breakfast at Bucolico Cafe. My friend Katy, who is a brilliant cook, recommended this gem: the cafe is beautifully decorated (in fact, it was featured in Spain’s Architectural Digest) and they offer a creative array of affordable baked goods. We loved the toast with scrambled eggs and Szechuan sauce.
While we refueled ourselves, we noticed it was pouring outside the cafe, and looked with dismay at the weather forecast that predicted rain all week — but by the time we finished dining, the sun had come out and the sky was as blue as could be.
We hadn’t made a strict plan for how we would arrange our time in Madrid, but since we didn’t know how long our weather luck would last, we decided to try and hit as many spots as we could for our first day. We headed to Madrid’s Royal Palace, but when we saw the long line, we ordered online tickets for an hour later and killed time by visiting the Catedral de la Almudena across the plaza as well as its crypt, Cripta de la Almudena (which wasn’t on our list, but we saw a flyer advertising it nearby).
Madrid’s Royal Palace is one of the largest palaces in Europe. Its various wings and chambers have their own distinctive features, from an opulent Rococco Room to a stunning green-and-white porcelain room (as in, the walls were made of porcelain). It’s still the official residence of the Spanish royal family, so photographs aren’t allowed in most spaces, but the whole building is a glittering reminder that Spain was once the most powerful country in the world.
We walked around the Plaza Mayor, a major public square in the heart of Madrid, as well as the Puerta del Sol, another public square which was under construction when we visited, where we cooled down with some delicious gelato at Heladeria Puerta Real.
We ended our day at the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum, our first stop in Madrid’s Golden Triangle of Art. This impressive museum is actually what started my project of documenting all of the art I’ve been lucky enough to see over the years. It took a lot of time to identify pieces and search up the descriptions on the Thyssen-Bornemisza’s website because I wasn’t yet in the habit of taking photos of each work’s name, so I had to manually try different keywords or guesses at artist’s names until I could find a match. This project has encouraged me to be more selective about which pieces I want to remember, instead of just taking photos when I recognize an artist’s name, which is not easy when so many museums’ collections are so wonderfully extensive. The Thyssen-Bornemisza was once the second-largest private collection in the world, featuring more than 1,600 paintings from familiar favorites: Monet, Manet, Miró, Magritte, Matisse (wow, just now realizing how many major Ms there are in modern art), Dali, Degas, Picasso, Pollock, and so on. We were particularly moved by their special exhibition, Artists’ Letters from the Anne-Marie Springer Collection, which matched artists’ private love letters to their paintings, giving an intimate glimpse into their inspirations, insecurities, and creative processes.
We browsed the museum until we were literally the last two people in the top floor gallery — and, directionally challenged as ever, needed to be ushered out of the building by a squad of security guards. We weren’t in mood to walk far for dinner, so we tried our luck at a highly-rated dinner spot nearby. It was full, so we headed next door to De Cháchara Las Cortes. Though it was empty the whole time we were there (usually a bad sign), this was actually a very pleasant dinner! We enjoyed their paella, another Spanish omelette, and free limoncello shots for dessert. Unfortunately, it looks like this restaurant has since permanently closed.
Day 2: Day trip to Toledo, Museo Nacional del Prado
At this point in the trip, we were walking via sheer willpower. I’m not sure what possessed us on this day — perhaps it was the unexpectedly good weather, which meant our spirits were high and everything was a delight by default.
Toledo is a must-see day trip from Madrid; the direct train takes only about half an hour, and it is such a charming city (also a UNESCO Site!). Toledo was once the capital of the Visigothic kingdom of Spain, and like Cordóba, it has a history of peaceful coexistence of Christians, Muslims, and Jews. The city is enveloped by the Tagus River, and its landmarks include medieval Islamic, Gothic, Renaissance, and Mudéjar architecture, as well as a well-preserved Jewish Quarter.
We planned our itinerary here perfectly: after we got off the train, we took a taxi up to their main panoramic viewpoint, Mirador del Valle, beating all the tour buses for some unobstructed photos. Then, we hiked back down and crossed the Puente de Alcántara to enter the city. What a beautiful day for a walk! We started our journey within the city at Santa Iglesia Catedral Primada de Toledo, their incredible, jaw-dropping cathedral. Some consider it the magnum opus of the Gothic style in Spain, and its soaring ceilings incorporating sunlight into the building and beautiful gold, wood, and limestone work provide a convincing argument for this title. The cathedral also opens up to a small courtyard with murals and an art museum featuring works by El Greco (who lived and worked in Toledo during the late 16th century) alongside other artifacts.
Other places we visited in Toledo included the Monasterio de San Juan de Los Reyes, which felt like Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery in miniature; the Plaza Zocodover, their main plaza, where we had some delicious gelato at Martonela Cremería Slow; and the Museo del Greco, which of course featured works by El Greco, including a complete series of 13 paintings portraying Christ and his disciples. Our route was not particularly optimized, but we enjoyed wandering the hilly streets and took a long, scenic walk back to the train station. We briefly passed into the frame of a vlogger’s livestream; we giggled at their pedestrian traffic sign (usually, the symbol of the walking person is static. This little guy was practically sprinting!); we briefly panicked when we noticed that our train time was not listed on the billboard, only to realize we were looking at Arrivals and not Departures. When traveling, it feels like we make time for silly observations and mundane victories — another way that travel pulls us out of our typical mindset.
When we arrived back in Madrid, it was time to take on the Prado Museum, one of the largest art museums in the world and the single best collection of Spanish art. Their collection contains an insanely impressive number of works by Francisco Goya, El Greco, Peter Paul Rubens, Titian, Diego Velázquez, as well as pieces by Caravaggio, Raphael, and more.
The Prado is one of the few art museums that does not allow photography of any kind. Admittedly, this exercise in close looking was much-needed for me: especially prior to my efforts to document the art I’ve viewed and enjoyed, I used to go through museums by taking pictures of every piece and telling myself I’d go back and review them later (of course, I never did). Now, thankfully, I do review the art I’ve captured, but I still feel that I don’t spend enough time appreciating each piece in-person. Moreover, too often, I rely on professional descriptions to shape how I feel about artworks rather than simply looking and trying to listen to how a piece speaks to me; when an artwork lacks a description, I find myself unsure of what to make of it beyond the aesthetic pleasure of looking at it.
Reflecting on this 2022 trip in 2024, I’m distraught to realize that there are gaps in my memories of the Prado, whereas the Thyssen and Reina Sofia (both of which I photographed extensively) feel more accessible — a sobering confirmation of Michael Sacasas’ warning in “From Memory Scarcity to Memory Abundance” that “digital photography and sites like Facebook have brought us to an age of memory abundance. The paradoxical consequence of this development will be the progressive devaluing of such memories and severing of the past’s hold on the present […] As the external archive grows, our personal involvement with the memory it stores shrinks in proportion.”
At the same time, if I try to remember the Prado, I can: giant Rubens lining a hallway (particularly seeing The Judgement of Paris in person, a story that I’ve encountered many versions of in art, books, and even music — listen to ‘History of Man’ by Maisie Peters!); appreciating all of the details of Velázquez’s iconic Las Meninas, like the faces of Philip IV and Mariana of Austria in the mirror behind their daughter; gazing at the shadows and contrast in José de Ribera’s religious paintings; collapsing on various couches around the museum when my feet felt like they were numbing… as I write and remember, my mental images grow clearer and the pieces come together. Memory, like everything else, takes effort and renewal. While it’s hard to let go of the urge to photograph and retain a deluge of images from every occasion, reflection gives us a chance to imbue photos with the meaning they deserve. I’ll continue to strive to consume (‘experience’ might be a better term) art in a more thoughtful way, knowing that this will be a lifelong project that shifts as technologies continue to change (what will the Apple Vision Pro’s 3D camera do for memory?).
We stumbled out of the Prado and walked even more to our dinner at Dos Cielos Madrid. Located in the Hotel Palacio de los Duques Gran Meliá, they offer two seasonal tasting menus and an excellent wine pairing. This was the first time I’ve ever ordered a wine pairing, and I’m so glad I opted in: we liked every wine, especially the champagne and the dessert wine from Málaga, which tasted like lychee! The menu itself was super solid; it wasn’t particularly innovative, with crowdpleasers like crispy pork and risotto, but everything was well-executed. We particularly enjoyed their selection of local olive oils — one of them had a distinctively smoky flavor. Overall, it was a lovely dining experience.
Day 3: San Miguel Market, Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, CaixaForum
Originally, we considered taking another day trip to Segovia for our last full day, but it was raining in the morning, so we decided to rest in Madrid. We headed to the San Miguel Market (and spontaneously got much-needed 30-minute foot massages at a random Chinese salon on the way), where our mouths watered at rows upon rows of glistening goodies, but we left unimpressed by the bread we ordered. We treated ourselves to some excellent pistachio ice cream at Mistura Ice Cream and decided to pay a visit to La Casa del Abuelo, a Madrid culinary institution… and a disappointing tourist trap. Their garlic shrimp wasn’t fragrant and instead sat in a sad greasy pile; their bread was stale and flavorless.
Our main event for the day was rounding out Madrid’s art scene at the Museo Reina Sofia, a collection focused on 20th century art, including Picasso’s 1937 masterpiece, Guernica. Compared to the grand mythological and religious works of the Prado, or the idyllic Impressionist pieces lining the Thyssen, the Reina Sofia’s modern art feels gritty and relatively melancholic. Guernica, for example, was painted in response to the bombing of Guernica in northern Spain by Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy during the Spanish Civil War. The suffering associated with war sears the black-and-white canvas. As the story goes, a German officer saw a photo of Guernica and asks Picasso, “Did you do that?” to which he responds, “No, you did.”
We briefly stopped by the CaixaForum, a contemporary sociocultural center along the Paseo del Prado boasting unique architecture and an outdoors vertical garden. They typically have interesting temporary exhibitions and performances on show, but we ended up just sitting down in their cafe for some tea (and time to rest our feet and recharge our phones).
From there, we walked past the El Retiro Park into the upscale Salamanca neighborhood to our dinner at Ramon Freixa Madrid, an elegant 2-Michelin-starred restaurant in the Hotel Único. This was another strong recovery of our faith in fine dining after Bardal. Chef Ramon Freixa himself greeted every table to ask for each guest’s preferences (upon hearing that we were scarred by our experience at Bardal, he suggested that one of the dishes on the tasting menu might be too salty for us and preemptively swapped it for another — the dish we ended up getting was delicious), and he said goodbye to everyone as well. The tasting menu lives up to its ‘Creative’ cuisine designation; the frozen tomato dish, which looked unassuming, was one of the most surprising, refreshing, and memorable dishes we’ve ever tried. They sent us off with a bag of homemade chocolates and a scrumptious muffin that I enjoyed for breakfast the next day.
Day 4: El Retiro Park, Palacio de Cristal, National Archaeological Museum
For our last morning in Madrid, we decided to take it easy: we strolled through the El Retiro Park, stopping by the Palacio de Cristal, a lovely conservatory which occasionally hosts exhibitions for the Reina Sofia, but also serves as a pretty photo spot.
We also visited the National Archaeological Museum. If I could change one thing about our itinerary, it would be to prioritize this museum: my feet were devoid of function, so I pretty much napped on a bench while my mom explored the exhibits (though I did hobble over to see the Lady of Elche, a controversial sculpture that has puzzled archaeologists regarding its subject and authenticity over the years). This was an incredibly well-curated museum with extremely detailed descriptions and diagrams for each hall and object. If I’d had the energy to absorb any of this information, I could have learned a lot.
Still, we left Madrid with no regrets. Our days in Portugal and Spain were filled not only with unforgettable sights, but also laughter and good conversation. The experience began my reign as the designated family trip planner — scouting the right restaurants, hotels, tourist attractions, and routes that are a good fit for our tastes, then seeing everything come to fruition, is such a satisfying process for me, and I can’t wait for (fingers crossed!) many trips to come.
