Fer in England

17.11.25 — Burnley

Fer in England

17.11.25 — Burnley

“I love travelling to the most random towns when I visit a country”, said Fer, most probably over an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“You should come to my hometown,” said I. “It doesn’t get much more random than the village I grew up in.”

And so it was that Fernando and I wound up arriving in Manchester Airport, where he immediately proceeded to book a taxi to the wrong hotel. Once back on track, we ordered drink on Canal Street and a late night McDonalds to begin his British cultural immersion.

As I carefully ran a line of ketchup down one of my chips, I pondered ideas for the next few days. I’ve noticed that Spanish tourists to England rarely venture further north than Nottingham, so the pressure was on for me to show him the best, or at least the grittiest, parts of the north.

In the end, I decided that we’d do whatever I’d usually do. We had lunch with my sister, a coffee in Northern Quarter, and some impromptu cocktails before taking the X43 over to Burnley. There, we walked around my village, hosted a bonfire, had afternoon tea on a barge, and ate a pizza with Jemma and Lucy that seemingly poisoned poor Fer, who spent the next day bedridden.

The highlight of the trip was definitely our day out in Blackpool. I treated Fer to the thrills of the Pleasure Beach, the decadence of the pier, and the cheap kicks of the two-penny slot machines at Coral Island. We ate fish and chips by the sea and then oysters at one of Blackpool’s remaining few oyster bars. The train back home was full of empty cider cans and spat us out onto a rail replacement bus. All in all, it was a proper northern experience, one which could have easily been ripped from the pages of my childhood.

Once Fer had recovered from his pizza-bourne disease, we headed back to Manchester Airport for one of my beloved Ryanair flights to Madrid. There, amongst screaming babies and unruly school trips, I thanked Fernando for joining me for a trip back home. It’s always nice to visit my hometown, but sharing the experience with someone completely new made me appreciate the place even more.

Long live the north.

Tren de la Fresa

26.10.25 — Madrid

Tren de la Fresa

26.10.25 — Madrid

While I laid in bed, leg broken and immobile, I had a lot of time to think of what I would do once I was on my feet again. The first thing on the list was to ‘live new experiences with friends’, with new dutifully underlined for emphasis. I thus knew exactly what I had to do when I saw an advertisement for the Tren de la Fresa, an heritage railway running daily excursions in October: I convinced Sara and Fernando to tag along for the day.

The three of us met up at Madrid’s train museum early on a Sunday morning, tired and weary, only to be greeted by the shouts of a guy in a period train conductor’s uniform. To my horror, I realised that I’d dragged my friends into an interactive experience designed for children, actors and all.

Once we and the masses of young families aboard were seated, the train began its journey towards Aranjuez, a historic city on the outskirts of Madrid. We chatted away and everything seemed pretty normal, that was until two actors showed up with suitcases and began shouting at each other. I didn’t really follow the storyline, but the three of us giggled along at the goofy spectacle.

Little did we know that the best was yet to come. After the impromptu performance, music began to blare over the speakers and the actors cajoled the whole wagon into signing along to the theme tune of the Tren de la Fresa. This pushed us over the edge and we wound up in stitches, laughing ourselves silly as we arrived in Aranjuez.

We then swapped the wooden bench seating for the back row of the chiquitren, a trackless road train which was exactly like the ones I remember zipping around the Spanish tourist towns of my childhood. This was followed by a river cruise and then lunch, which included my first taste of frogs legs. I’d say they tasted like chicken, but really they tasted like the garlic in which they’d been cooked.

The train journey back had us singing the Tren de la Fresa song once more, this time with a little bowl of strawberries in hand. Those of you who’ve been doing your Duolingo will know that Tren de la Fresa translates to ‘Strawberry Train’, named after the train’s prior use for bringing Aranjuez’s strawberry harvest into Madrid.

It was then, singing along to “tren de la fresa, tren de la fresa, baila sin parar y mueve la cabeza”, that I realised that even the silliest of plans are made great by the company of good friends. Whether it be munching on fresh strawberries, singing a cheesy song, or jumping across the jittery platforms between old train wagons, we’ve to take life —and health and safety— a little bit less seriously.

Gaga & Guests

13.10.25 — Manchester

Gaga & Guests

13.10.25 — Manchester

Living in a hot country, I’ve grown fond of the transitional seasons, with my favourite of all being spring. Autumn is nice too, though, mainly because it doesn’t bring with it the awful effects of spring asthenia. This year’s autumn has certainly been marked by the exact opposite of lethargy and irritability: I didn’t bloody stop!

My main activity was acting as host to a long list of visitors throughout October. My sister and her partner visited, which was a great excuse to celebrate their recent engagement by eating lots of delicious food. Rhea made her annual visit and we spent lots of time outside together, given that last year she had to tend to me and my broken leg. María also swung by for a weekend, which made a great chance to catch up with the ex-Erretres gang and show her even more of my neighbourhood… quite possibly against her will.

It wasn’t just people visiting me, though, as I also made a trip to England on my ever reliable and punctual Ryanair flight. The main motive for this visit was a Lady Gaga concert with my sister, which turned out to be an absolute blast. I arrived at the stadium quite tired, but thankfully Gaga knows that her fanbase is ageing, and made sure that the entire audience had a seat to in which to sit.

To end October, I decorated my apartment for Halloween. It’s not a holiday that I usually bother with, but it would seem that the more you do, the more you feel motivated to do. I thus entered what would be an equally busy November with a living room smelling of burned pumpkin, all courtesy of the obscene amount of candles that I insisted on cramming into the poor thing…

Interrail

09.09.25 — Paris

Interrail

09.09.25 — Paris

I now believe in train supremacy. Fine, travel by train takes a lot longer than flying, but I’m sat here in a very spacious seat after a quick trip down to the restaurant carriage for a fresh sandwich I ate whilst splayed out on a sofa. There’s things to look at out of the window, there’s WiFi, and there’s the time and stress saved by not having to navigate airports: the most hostile spaces that humanity has ever built.

My trusty Interrail pass has also helped save me a few bouts of tachycardia. The knowledge that I can just take the next train if I miss my connection is nothing like the stress of running through Doha airport in order to make my next flight. I’d thought that train hopping around Europe was a sport best left for teenagers, but the flexibility of being able to board pretty much any train made for absolute peace of mind.

It also allowed me to visit some friends and places that I’ve been wanting to visit for a while. From the high peaks of Austria to the absolute flatness of the Netherlands, I’ve seen some pretty impressive geographical contrasts, explored some beautiful cities and towns, and beheld breathtaking feats of nature straight out of a National Geographic documentary.

My trip began and ended with a few nights in Paris after passing through Barcelona. I visited a theme park with Danni at the start of the trip and then explored as a solo tourist as the trip ended. During the rest of my three weeks I climbed mountains with Loredana, ate delicious pizza by David, had a washout dinner in Germany with María, and ran around various towns in Holland with Cami. I met my friends’ families, my friends’ friends, and the friends of friends of friends. I also made a few new ones of my own along the way, sometimes in the most unexpected of places. I got chatting to a couple of lost American tourists on a sightseeing tour and wound up closing a restaurant with the waitress and the chef.

After spending my summers in the US for three years on the trot, I did miss the company of my American friends, but I found my European trip a perfect balance of solo travel, reunions, and time spent visiting friends who, for one reason or another, have ended up living in different places across the content. I’ve been wanting to do a trip around my home continent for years, and this year everything fell into place. My accident last year meant that I was still learning to walk at the time I’d usually be looking at US-bound flights, and post-operation travel insurance meant I’d to consider something a little bit more local!

It’s been an awesome summer break, one only made possible by all my friends who welcomed me into their homes and accompanied me along the way. To all of you: thank you. I’ll definitely be catching a train again soon…

Kevin Returns

05.08.25 — Oviedo

Kevin Returns

05.08.25 — Oviedo

The problem with being an immigrant and having immigrant friends is that everyone is always on the move. Kevin was a Spaniard in Leeds when we met, then he moved back to Spain, as did I shortly thereafter. He now lives out in the US, whilst I keep his fellow countrymen in check in his absence.

As Kevin doesn’t get the chance to head home all too often, our chance to see each other is usually my anual trip to North America. As of this year, though, these are on hold: partly because I’m still recovering from my injury and partly because of the current US political climate.

So when Kevin called to say he’d be home for a couple of weeks this summer, I immediately bagged some train tickets to visit him up in Asturias. Time with Kevin is always time well spent, and when he’s back in Spain, he’s down to do anything that sounds like fun. We thus ate like kings, drank way too much sidra, and partied the night away in a fiesta de prau (field party). The highlight of that night in particular was watching Kevin drag a plastic chair through the partying crowds so that I could sit down and rest my knee in the middle of the mosh pit. What a guy.

But it’s not just Kevin that I had chance to see. We met up with Raquel and Joel, whom I first met during the hilarious Descenso del Sella, to celebrate a special occasion. They’d just bought a plot of land to build a house together, so we met up there for a picnic, more sidra, and some ribs from the local grill. They were the best ribs I’ve ever had, made even better by the great company and gorgeous surroundings.

By now, I don’t have to profess once more my love for Asturias and its people on here once more, but I will regardless. Being around Kevin means guaranteed laughs and great conversation, and being in Asturias means delicious food and the beauty of the countryside. Bring them together? That’s perfection.