11th December 2025: Underground and University London {United Kingdom, December 2025}

Posted on 16 May 2026 by JBinnacle

It was not too much of a chilly London morning. I popped into the underground to go leave my luggage at Liverpool Street station – where there is (you guessed it) a Costa Coffee. Then, I headed towards Baker Street Station, where I had booked guided visit with the Hidden London project, by the London Transport Museum. I arrived with some time, so first I explored the Wonderpass – which is a regular underground pedestrian tunnel which allows to cross the road, and has been “decorated” with facts and details about the history of the area, and turned into a small museum.

A few minutes were enough there, so I spent the rest of my time at The Regent’s Park, one of the Royal Parks in London. Between 1536 and 1541, Henry VIII, now head of the Anglican church, ordered the dissolution of the monasteries. Land that used to belong to Catholic orders went to the crown, and although much was sold to fund the King’s military campaigns, the area that comprises Regent’s Park today was retained as hunting grounds. In the 1810s, it was transformed into a pleasure garden with the blessing of the Prince Regent – who would go on to reign as George IV. Today, it is home to the London Zoo, a rose garden, a lake, several fountains, and even a whole university campus.

Regent's Park waterfront in the autumn. Trees on the left are bare, trees on the right are golden.

After a while, I headed towards Baker Street Station to await the beginning of my tour. The meeting point was the Sherlock Holmes Statue, which is, ironically, placed in Marylebone Road. The perpendicular road is indeed Baker Street, where the fictional address of the literary detective is – 221B, which today is a museum dedicated to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books, recreating scenes from the stories. The statue was created by John Doubleday and installed in 1999. Arthur Conan Doyle (1859 – 1930) wrote four novels and over 50 short stories featuring the detective. Today the character – possibly the most famous fictional detective ever – is remembered for his uncanny logical deductions, while other personality traits – misogyny or drug addiction – tend to be tip-toed around.

Statue of Sherlock Holmes in front of Baker Street station.

Around 10:20, the people from the London Transport Museum came to check us in. This is one of those kinds of visits for which you need to bring a piece of ID, probably for insurance reasons. I had been wanting to try one of Hidden London tours for a while, despite them being expensive, and in the end I had chosen Baker Street: The World’s First Underground, as it promised to take you “behind the scenes” of the oldest underground station in the world.

Back in 1863, the Metropolitan Railway company had revolutionised transport by deciding to lay their tracks underground. At that time, London was one of the most populated cities in the world, and crossing it took an hour and a half. The project cut down time to 20 minutes. Unfortunately, we are talking about actual steam trains continouslymoving through tunnels, and the coal smoke was not… the healthiest to breathe, one could say.

The tour takes around 90 minutes, but it is set as more grandiose than it actually is. Most of the “hidden spots” are just service corridors full of trash cans and current working equipment. We had two guides and a security guard, and the information was interesting indeed, but there were few places to explore that felt really “hidden” and just like a conference in a couple of closed-off places.

Baker Street Station hidden tour - platforms, and abandoned tunnels.

I did revisit a couple of the publicly-accessible areas after the tour was over to try and get a decent photograph, and then headed off towards Euston to visit a couple of museums belonging to the University College London (UCL), both of which I’ve wanted to see for a while now. However, the last few times I’ve been in town either one or the other was closed – or their opening times did not fit the plans. Today was the day. I first went to the Petrie Museum of Egyptian and Sudanese Archaeology. Though it is a tiny museum, it holds one of the largest archaeological collections in the world, with around 80,000 items.

The core of the collection was donated by writer Amelia Edwards (1831 – 1892), the “godmother of Egyptology”. Edwards toured Egypt in 1873 and 1874, and later, in 1882, she co-founded the Egypt Exploration Fund (now the Egypt Exploration Society), which aimed to support and promote Egyptian cultural heritage. Upon her death, all her Egyptian artefacts, and a hefty sum of money, were donated to the University.

I reached the museum and asked if I could snoop around. I was told no, but I was welcome to visit. Okay, I guess. No harm done. While I love old museums, this one feels way too crammed (and not even in the fascinating way the Sir John Soane’s Museum does). The space is small, so most objects are lounged together in large cases, some with their original labels from the Victorian times, even. It is run by volunteers and possibly all that they custody is in display, which explains why everything is so full.

Exhibits at Petri Museum - Egyptian archaeological artefacts: a dress, animal and human statuettes, painted tiles.

Afterwards, I headed to the Grant Museum of Zoology and Comparative Anatomy, also part of the UCL. Established in 1828 by Robert Edmond Grant, it is one of the oldest natural history collections in the country, originally designed as a teaching collection. It comprises 100,000 specimens in total. There are incredible things on display here. Something that drew my attention was that there were a couple of tutoring sessions going on at the museum… about how to draw creatures and specimens. I did not eavesdrop, but what I overheard was fascinating…

A general view of the Grant Museum of zoology. There are skeletons looking down from the second floor...

One of the highlights is the so-called Micrarium – almost 2,323 old microscope slides (a tiny fraction of the complete collection, which goes up to 20,000), designed in 2013. There is also a collection of invertebrate glass models that blew my mind away, fossils, skeletons and a wall full of disassembled mouse bones. The museum most infamous exhibit is a jar of moles (Talpa europaea), which hosts 18 of these tiny mammals, male and female, preserved in formaldehyde. When I asked why it was so popular, the volunteer explained that the jar was never catalogued and that it predates any worker of the museum – so no one knows where it came from, and what was it going to be used for. It might have been assembled for a zoology class, or maybe a researcher collected the critters. In any case, there is no record of it, the jar just… exists.

Grant museum of Zoology exhibits: a cocrodile skull, an old microscope slide, giant deer antlers, glass models of anemone and squid, and the (in)famous jar of moles.

Had I not received the email concerning security queue issues in London Stansted, I would have at that point headed for the Monument to the Great Fire of London. However, I have trust issues, so I decided to head to the airport instead. I took the underground to Liverpool Street, and was at the airport around four hours in advance instead of my usual two.

Stansted was packed. There was nowhere to sit, and I’m not talking about actual seats. It was almost impossible to find even a spot on the floor to plop down. I fortunately found a corner where I could stay for about an hour before things started clearing out. I felt a bit miffed because while security had taken a bit longer than usual, it was not the chaos I had feared, so I felt I had wasted my afternoon in London. However, better safe than sorry.

When finally my gate was called, I tried to get to sit down somewhere, but Ryanair made the decision to have the check point just at the end of the stairs, and I found myself stuck in the queue. Most of the waiting was done after check in, and the land crew person opened a cordoned thing to push us through so I ended up – somehow – in front of most of the Priority Queue. That meant I entered the aircraft much earlier than I normally would have. I made the trip back encased between two very tall people who… had trouble squeezing into the seats.

Once I landed, I beat most of my plane to passport control. It was cold when I stepped out and once in the car, the parking lot barrier didn’t want to let me through, and it took several tries to get out. Fortunately, going back and forth repeatedly solved the issue, and I did not have to go find a warden to get it done.

All in all, the trip was a success. I really wish I had stayed a day longer, I would have squeezed many other things in. However, now that my early-morning plane is back, and I have an ETA, I might feel compelled to fly to the UK a couple further times before London introduces a tourist tax. Maybe in summer if the Crystal Palace Trust has finished their renovations of the dinosaurs, or summer for the Jurassic Coast… Or, you know, the minute both the Natural History Museum’s Jurassic Oceans: Monsters of the Deep and the British Museum’s Bayeux Tapestry exhibitions are open.

10th December 2025: Oxford, trains and back to London {United Kingdom, December 2025}

Posted on 9 May 2026 by JBinnacle

I got up, used the kettle in the room to prepare a quick coffee… and one look at the radiator told me how it worked. I must have been much more tired than I realised the night before… I left my luggage at reception and went back to the streets of Oxford. I basically retraced my route from the previous evening in daylight.

I started off at the Claredon Building, the Bodleian Library and the Bridge of Sighs. Beyond that, I got back to the Radcliffe Camera, University Church of St Mary the Virgin, and the Old Bank Hotel. Down High Street, I walked by All Souls College, the Examination Schools, the Queen’s College, all the way down to Magdalen College.

Up the street again, I reached the Covered Market and turned at Carfax Tower, to St Aldates Church and Christ Church College. Though visiting it was my goal for the morning, I still had some time before the College opened. Thus, I decided to go to Costa Coffee for a proper breakfast, where I had a vanilla latte and a blueberry muffin.

I then headed back to Christ Church College. As it is the largest and most important structure – and also the one that holds the cathedral – it was the college I thought I needed to visit. The visitors’ centre is located in Christ Church Meadow, a floodable grassland open to the public during the day.

I purchased a self-guided visit ticket and went on to explore. Christ Church College (officially The Dean and Chapter of the Cathedral Church of Christ in Oxford of the Foundation of King Henry the Eighth) was founded in 1531 by King Henry VIII, as expected by the name. It was later refounded in 1532, and again in 1546. The second refoundation had a lot to do with the reorganisation of the Church of England, and since then it has been the home of Oxford’s cathedral. Christ Church is a huge complex, mostly in a stunning Gothic and Neo Gothic styles (with some Baroque and Neoclassical add-ons), and the audio guide kept insisting that one should not peer through the windows. Though I think it would have been doable to take the tour the previous day, the cathedral had been closed, and I wanted to see that.

I don’t really think I was ready for how grandiose – I can’t find any other word for it – the whole compound was. The Great Hall caught me by absolute surprise. The staircase which accesses it is magnificent, and the hall is just fascinating. There are fireplaces, pictures of Deans and Professors, long wooden tables and lead windows with different motifs, the most important one being the Alice in Wonderland Window.

The visit begins at Meadow Quad, a 19th-century Gothic Revival building, designed by TN Deane. The particular style is known as Venetian Gothic. During the Victorian period there were several efforts to redefine the significance of Classical ruins and medieval structures, along with a scorn of Baroque. In a typical with-me-or-against-me fashion, two thought currents emerged. On the one hand, Frenchman Eugène Viollet-Le-Duc, who wanted to be more Gothic than the Medievals themselves. His idea was to perfect Gothic buildings using more modern materials and techniques, often making up structures and even whole buildings. Amongst his notable efforts are the restoration of Notre Dame in Paris and the city of Carcassonne (and by his followers, the Olite castle).

On the other hand, Englishman John Ruskin claimed that construction had a life cycle and should be born (be built), then live (be used) and die (collapse). Being a Romantic in the artistic sense of the word, he also idealised Gothic, and his theories inspired more than one Gothic Revival attempt, but he considered them plagiarism and “faux”. Ruskin studied in Oxford, and some of the Neo Gothic buildings there tried to recreate his idealised visions of Gothic – Meadow Quad is one of them (the museum of natural history is another). While Ruskin originally (and vehemently) opposed restoration, to the point that at some point he wrote that it “shattered his soul”, by the end of his life he acknowledged that maybe it was not such a bad idea. Though this is of course a very summarised version of both theories, if I have to take a stand, I’m on Viollet-Le-Duc’s side.

Outer façade of Christ Church College, Oxford, towards the end of the meadow.

The first visit inside the college is Bodley Tower, which features a the monumental Hall Staircase, with an incredibly vaulted ceiling of Medieval design but carved in 17^th century. It leads to the Great Hall, the Renaissance mesh room where students and teachers share their meals on long wooden tables (I’ve also learnt that during summer holidays Christ Church turns the students’ rooms into a B&B and you can have breakfast there. Yes, I’m having thoughts). Features of the room include the two chimneys, painted portraits, and stained glass windows.

There is a particularly famous window, called Alice’s window, which honours a former student of the college, one Charles Dodgson, who is more famous than you think. Dodgson’s pen name was Lewis Carroll, and Alice is the one who went to Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. Carrol was born in 1832, and throughout his life he became a writer, photographer and mathematician. He was tall but scrawny, deaf in one ear, had weak lungs and suffered from a stammer. In 1851, he enrolled to study in Oxford’s Christ Church, where he would go on to work for the rest of his life. It is said, especially in this college, that the main character from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and its sequel Through the Looking-Glass (1871) was based on the Dean’s daughter, Alice Liddell. Another apocryphal story is that the Dodo that appears in the fist book is based on himself – apparently his stammer made it difficult for him to pronounce his own surname, Dodgson, so he referred to himself as a Dodo. It’s difficult to know if this was true…

Main Staircase and Main Hall, where food is served.

Leaving behind the tower, I ventured onto the main yard of the college, Tom Quad (officially the Great Quadrangle), home of the resident pet ducks Tom and Peck. It was originally designed to be a cloister, but the arcade was never finished. In the middle of the quad stood a firefighting water reservoir, now substituted by a decorative fountain with a flying Mercury in bronze. The street and the college are connected by a gate on top of which stands the bell tower known as Tom Tower, whose bell is known as Great Tom. Tom Tower was designed by Christopher Wren around 1680, and Great Tom rang for the first time in 1684. Today, it rings 101 times at 21:00 Oxford time, which is 21:05 GMT, signalling the original curfew time.

The other two quadrants open to visitors are Peck Quad and Canterbury Quad. The former is overlooked by the New Library built in the 18^th century in the Renaissance style. The latter gives way to the Picture Gallery. Possibly though, the most impressive element in the complex is Christ Church Cathedral or Cathedral Church of Christ. The building was erected towards the end of the 12th century, but the interior was redesigned, in the Neo Gothic style by Sir George Gilbert Scott.

Quadrants at Christ Church College, Oxford. One is Gothic, the other is Baroque.

The cathedral was re-signified within the context of Henry VIII’s Reformation, which was sparked when the king wanted to have his first (out of six of them) marriage annulled. The original wife, Catherine of Aragon (Catalina de Aragón, daughter of Spain’s Catholic Monarchs) had already married Henry’s older brother, Arthur, who died soon after. Seven years later, she was wedded to Henry VIII, soon after his ascent to the throne, and although she become pregnant six times, only one child, future Queen Mary I, survived past infancy. In order to marry his brother’s widow, Henry needed a special dispensation from the Pope.

However, he was unhappy that Catherine had only reared one daughter, so by the time she was too old to have more children, he sought a personal favour from the Pope – the annulment of the marriage. He claimed to have realised that according to the Bible, said marriage was wrong and the lack of sons was a divine sign. It did not help that by this time, he had fallen in love (or in lust) with Anne Boleyn. The Pope rejected the request, which eventually yielded to Henry VIII’s breaking out with the Catholic Church and creating the Church of England. Henry banished Catherine, and married Anne Boleyn, who later ended up beheaded, accused of “treason” (read: infidelity), while Henry married again – four times.

Christ Church Cathedral was originally Catholic, built in the Norman (Romanesque) style during the 11^th and 12^th centuries. After its conversion to the Anglican rite, the interior of the church was redesigned. It has large stained glass windows and an amazing Neo Gothic ceiling. During the audio guide explanation there was a salute from the Dean, Sarah Foot, welcomed visitors “of any faith, or none” into the cathedral. As the building had originally been designed as an Augustinian monastery during the Catholic period, it features a cloister and a chapter house, the last visitable elements in Christ Church. I turned back in the multimedia guide, bought a trinket at the gift shop, and left the premises.

Interior of the very gothic Christ Church cathedral.

Afterwards, I returned to the hotel to pick up my luggage and head to the station taking a small detour to see the outside of Oxford Castle and Prison and the Castle Mound. There’s no free exploring the castle, you must book a guided tour, so I had decided against it, heading back towards London instead. I wanted to leave on the 12:34 train, which gave me enough time to drop the luggage in my London room, and head out again. Unfortunately, the train was delayed by a “disruptive passenger” and reached Oxford 20 minutes late. I had a booking for the London Museum of Natural History, but I could get another one to guarantee entry if there was a queue, half an hour after the original.

I did not see everything that you can see in Oxford. However, I’ve learnt that day trips are cheaper, because a single and a return ticket have the same price. I did not get to see anything related to JRR Tolkien, nor the Headington Shark, so I might have to eventually come back. I do not regret my planning though, because I had priorities. Off to London I rode, munching on salt-and-vinegar crisps.

I reached Paddington, then changed to the underground to reach Victoria Station. I hate Victoria. I hate it almost as much as I hate Shinjuku Station. It’s bustling and chaotic and I never get my exit right. It was particularly crowded as they had a Christmas installation – a huge plastic “Christmas bauble” which people could enter to have their picture taken. I finally got my bearings and reached the hotel, a few minutes away. Though it was called the Grapevine Hotel, check-in was next door, in the Sheriff Hotel. I had booked a single en-suite with private toilet, and when I got to my second-floor room I found the faucet, the shower, the bed, and a note reading “the toilet is on the first floor”. As in… a whole floor down there was a toilet with a sign reading “Room 15 toilet”. It was incredible surreal, and I had a good laugh about it!

I headed back to Victoria Station (have I mentioned I really hate Victoria?), hopped onto the Tube, and reached South Kensington. It was not too crowded and I could take the tunnel towards London’s Natural History Museum. They have recently reopened their garden, after revamping the area and adding a bunch of details and attractions. Renamed Evolution Garden, its main feature – due to sheer size alone – is Fern the Diplodocus (Diplodocus carnegii). The life-sized specimen is made in bronze and based on Dippy, the Carnegy cast. Before Dippy went on tour in 2021 (again), each bone was scanned so further copies could be made. The museum wanted a new specimen in a lifelike pose and no external support, that would be placed outside, no less. That was why it was decided to build the new display in bronze. However, the resulting skeleton would be too heavy, so they needed to hollow the bones out and keep the skeleton up using internal wiring. The result is a 25-metre long, self-supporting giant that gently sways with wind and withstands both heat and rain.

It almost dwarfs the smaller Hypsilophodon, first discovered in the Isle of Wight – a typical “English dinosaur”. The species lived in the Early Cretaceous, and it was first discovered in 1849, and for a couple of decades it was thought to be a young Iguanodon, until Thomas Henry Huxely proved otherwise. The new species was officially named Hypsilophodon foxii in 1869. It was bipedal, had a beak and teeth, and it is thought to have been a natural runner. It measured up to 2 metres in length, weighed around 20 kilograms.

Outside garden if the Natural Science Museum London showing the diplodocus and Hypsilophodon fossil replicas.

The Garden of Evolution has vegetation in order of appearance – from ferns to other early plants to flowering plants and grasses as one walks through the garden and “advances” in time. There are more small sculptures and art pieces, rocks and ponds, all of them dedicated to recreate evolution and at the same time provide a little nature to the heart of London.

I walked into the building, and my bag was flagged for inspection… ish. It’s just big enough to hold my camera and my wallet, and when the security guard saw that it flopped – the camera was already around my neck – he waved me through. My first stop was the gift shop – there were two things I wanted so I got that out of the way. I was aiming for two Christmas ornaments, but I got a Fern commemorative coin too.

I headed to the dinosaur area. One museum’s traditions is dressing their T. Rex animatronic in a humongous Christmas jumper every year – this year it featured ammonite, theropod prints, stars and a T. Rex skull. It was hilarious. I almost bought myself the human-design version after seeing it.

T Rex animatronic dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater with T Rex skulls.

I then went to the birds area to find the museum’s dodo, because after Oxford, everything dodo had to be checked out, of course. Later, I found my way to Sophie, the most complete stegosaurus skeleton. Afterwards, I made my way up because in June, the Museum unveiled a new species, a small herbivore named Enigmacursor mollyborthwickae from the Morrison Formation in the US. It is considered the holotype for the species (the only specimen known, even). Enigmacursor means “mysterious runner” and mollyborthwickae references Molly Lowell Borthwick – she and her husband donated a small fortune so the museum could acquire the unique skeleton, filed NHMUK PV R 39000. It was named in 2025 by Professors Susannah Maidment and Paul Barrett, and put on display. I was very excited to see it for the first time.

Enigmacursor mollyborthwickae, the one and only skeleton of this small theropod dinosaur.

I wandered through other spaces of the museum, including seeing the Treasures in the Cadogan gallery, where the Archaeopteryx is kept, the mineral gallery and The Vault, with all the gems and precious minerals. I also popped into the newly-renovated Hall of Mammals. I left the museum a bit before closing and was a tad disappointed that I could not cross the gardens, as they had closed an hour before the museum itself. I had a couple of hours before the musical, which did not feel like much to go to the centre and snoop around something “Christmassy”. So I headed back towards Victoria, and stayed a little at the bauble decoration, which now had a few ballet dancers inside – characterised as the Nutcracker, but to the music of Swan Lake.

Natural History Museum London exhibits: Maiasaurus skeleton, mammal hall, rhino skeleton, dodo skeleton, gold ore in the shape of a dragon.

Hintze Hall and Hope the blue whale of the Natural History Museum London from the entrance.

At 18:30 I strolled to Apollo Victoria Theatre. After watching the Spanish version and the first film, it felt right to go back to watch the original Wicked musical once more.

The theatre was displaying a couple of dresses and a sculpture of Chistery the flying monkey. I checked out the upper bar for a change, but everything was packed, so as soon as the sitting area opened, I went to find my seat. Since I was amongst the first people inside, I could take a few decent pictures of the stage. The theatre was rather empty in comparison to what I was expecting, but then I realised that it was the middle of the week, and I had only been to the Apollo Victoria at weekends before. I had booked a seat next to the aisle on row S, and honestly it was a perfect view – the person in front of me was also short, which was fantastic.

Dresses, figures and stage from Wicked in London.

The three main characters were played by Emma Kingston as Elphaba, Zizi Strallen as Glinda and Carl Man as Fiyero. I think Kingston has become my favourite Elphaba to date. Points to Man for keeping the British Ts during his solos, too. However, he did not feel as powerful a character as 2022’s Ryan Reid. I saw a few of Jeff Goldblum’s mannerism on the Wizard (Michael Matus), which… honestly do not work if you’re not Goldblum. Though the cast claims that they have not been influenced by the film, there are times that it just… slips in. Not in a bad way, but… it’s there. I really enjoyed it though, much more than any of the other versions. It feels natural – and not as long as the film(s).

The Cast of London's Wicked after the show.

After the play was over, I stopped by the station so I could buy some dinner (and cut some walking in the cold), and I guess I was hungry because I had all but skipped lunch. Once back at the hotel, I checked in for my flight, and also received an email stating that there was a bit of a chaos at London Stansted airport due to operational issues. That made me decide to head to the airport a couple of hours before I would usually do the following afternoon. It meant sacrificing one of the stops, but it would have sucked to get stuck there due to a long security line. And it’s London. It’s not like I’m not planning to go back already.

The truth is that the hotel had been cheap, and it ended up being quite uncomfortable. On top of the toilet issue, there were no blinds on the window, and it was humid. At least, heating worked, I guess. I did not sleep much, but that gave me time to try and plan my following morning.

9th December 2025: Exploring Oxford {United Kingdom, December 2025}

Posted on 3 May 2026 by JBinnacle

Nothing ever seems to go right before 4:30 in the morning, right? It turned out that when I reached my usual parking lot at the airport, I had mistakenly booked for another one! Ho boy that was stressful for a few minutes! Fortunately, I could reach the correct parking lot within five more minutes, and found a good spot to drop off the car. Then I did not have to wait for the bus, but could directly walk into the terminal. I might change my usual parking lot to this one, honestly. I like that you can walk and not depend on the bus. The downside is that if you get in or out late, you have to look for one of the 24-hour accesses to the terminal, and those are far and few so you end up walking back and forth a bit.

This whole mishap put me 20 minutes behind schedule, and of course I got a secondary screening at security – random drug / explosive test. Also, can airports decide on policies? Or at least, you know… could the airport agree with itself? Shoes on, shoes off, liquids in, liquids out… In Madrid, it seems to depend on the terminal – and the equipment I guess, if I am being rational. But I really did not feel like waiting for the chemical test to show a negative result.

Passport control went smoothly. When I sat at the boarding gate, I received a reminder that I had to check in with some administrative nonsense (basically proving that I’m still alive) – fun thing to do at 5:00. But that was a fast thing, and soon we had boarded. I had an aisle seat, not exit row. I dozed for most of the flight. Once at London Stansted, getting out took a bit of time because I was really back in the plane, but since I know that airport pretty well, I was able to outrun most of the crowd and barely had to wait at immigration. No one asked about the ETA, but it’s supposed to be linked to the passport, so I guess the system recognises it.

Once in the United Kingdom, I made my customary stop at Costa Coffee, then hopped onto the Stansted Express to get to central London. I changed into the underground, reached Paddington Station… and missed my train by literally a minute, because I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to access the platform! It turns out that Paddington has only one entry point in the middle of all the platforms, but several points of exit. The next train was only 30 minutes later so I just hung around the station for that time.

The first London Paddington station was designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel and opened in 1854. The original train shed features a glazed roof and wrought iron arches. There is a side shopping centre with a Paddington Bear shop, since the character was named after the area. Since Michaek Bond published the first book in 1958, this Peruvian spectacled bear has become a staple of British children’s literature – and of course, someone managed to heavily cash on that.

Once the train was announced, I got on, and roughly at 11:00, I was finally in the historical centre of Oxford, with the plan to visit the four museums that the local university created to showcase its collections. Since my hotel was on the way, I dropped my luggage off there, and headed out to the first stop – the Oxford University Museum of Natural History, a place that I had wanted to visit when I was a child, just like the Oceanographic Museum of Monaco. To get there, I walked by St Mary Magdalen, an Anglican church in Gothic and Gothic Revival styles, and the Martyrs’ Memorial, designed by Sir George Gilbert Scott to commemorate the burning at the stake of Protestant Bishops Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley and Archbishop Thomas Cranmer.

The Oxford University Museum of Natural History was built between 1855 and 1860, and gathered all the science collections that the university had amassed in different colleges and the Ashmolean Museum, with items that can be traced back to the Tradecant Collection from the 1600. The building itself was mainly designed by Irish architect Benjamin Woodward in a stunning Neo Gothic style. It was originally conceived as both museum and research centre, but as the collection grew, most of the research departments – except entomology – left to newer spaces. Once inside, the museum resembles a cloister, with a central court divided in five aisles by iron pillars that support the glass ceiling, decorated with wrought leaves to evoke trees and plants. Both floors have stone columns supporting pointed arches, and each one is representative of a different British stone, as if it were a research core.

Today, the museum has custody of seven million artefacts, divided in three main collections – Earth (comprising palaeontology and minerals), Life (covering zoology and entomology) and Archive (out of mere mortals’ reach). There are a few incredibly rare and valuable items in either collection. One of them is the only soft tissue of a dodo, an extinct bird.

The dodo (Raphus cucullatus) was a flightless bird from the African island of Mauritius that disappeared in 1662. It was a roundish bird that could measure up to 75 centimetres, and when it was “discovered” in 1598, it had no fear of humans. That made it a very easy prey, which led to its annihilation in just 64 years. Nowadays, it has become a symbol of anthropic extinction, but it used to be just known due to its role in the book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, one of the most important books in Victorian literature. Oxford is very proud that the book was written there.

Other elements in the zoology collection are skeletons of elephants and other mammals – the skeleton parade – and dozens of taxidermied birds. The dodo obviously belonged to the bird group, but the preserved tissue is too fragile to be displayed by now. The entomology collection is also impressive, but I’m a bit squirmy about those.

Another item in the Life collection is the so-called Red Lady of Paviland, a partial human skeleton dating back from the Upper Palaeolithic period. The bones were found along with shell beads and carved ivory in a cave known for mammoth remains. They were covered in red ochre, and were originally identified as belonging to a woman from the Roman period (hence the name). They turned out to be from a young man who could have lived as long as as 34,000 years ago, making them the oldest human remains in the United Kingdom, and one of the most ancient ceremonial burials in Europe.

Oxford Museum of Natural History exhibits: reddish human bones from the Red Lady (who turned out to be a man), reconstructed dodo, printouts from the dodo remains the miseum has, a collection of skeletons.

Besides local minerals, the Earth collection hosts over 200 rocks from outer space. One of them is the Nantan meteorite – 4.5 billion years old, and on display for you to touch. And as with every natural history museum, highlights are fossils and, of course, their reproductions. On display there are casts of a Tyrannosaur (Stan), one of the Bernissart iguanodons, an edmontosaur… The ground floor hosts plesiosaurs, ichthyosaurs, dunkleosteus… and a “Wall of Trilobites” with literally dozens of them.

However, the key items in the collections is none of the almost-complete skeletons or fossils on display or archived, but a few dislodged pieces – a leg, a piece of spine and half a jaw. These belong to the species Megalosaurus bucklandii, named by Willian Buckland in 1824 as the holotype of a long-gone massive creature. Megalosaurus was the first dinosaur ever described and named, and it would later get its “interpretation” at London’s Crystal Palace. It was not an accurate one, but it kicked off the first “dinomania” in the Victorian times. Normally, only a cast of the jaw is displayed, but the temporary exhibition Breaking Ground, about the history of palaeontology, had brought them out to be enjoyed by yours truly… I mean everyone. Another fantastic item in this exhibition was an ichthyosaur fossil found by Mary Anning herself – one with remains of its last supper still in its stomach.

As I entered the museum, the first thing I saw were two preserved bears (one of them has since been retired), and the skeleton replicas of iguanodon and tyrannosaur. To the right, the marine reptiles that wrote the history of palaeontology in the UK, and some other dinosaur replicas (edmontosaur, triceratops…). I wanted everything in the gift shop, of course. I had planned to walk the museum in order, but I was unable to, because as soon as I found the stairs, I trotted up to the first floor to find the temporary exhibition Breaking Ground.

Oxford Museum of Natural History building from the outside, and exhibits: dinosaurs and other fossils.

I ran into a couple of school visits, and at some point I was almost ran over by an overeager tween. One of his classmates tried to excuse him saying “apologies, he’s a bit hyper”. I could understand… I only hide it better, but this was one of those other places that had been in my inner child’s bucket list forever and a day. I was extremely happy to be there, and I’m sure I stayed way longer than normal people do. Selfies with megalosaurus were taken.

Megalosaurus was a Middle Jurassic theropod carnivore which has only been found in the Oxfordshire area (Taynton Limestone Formation). The first remains known to science have been lost, but were described and illustrated at the time. There was a tooth recovered in 1699, and a partial femur. A new batch of bones were discovered in 1815, and they were acquired by Willian Buckland, a geology professor in the University of Oxford. He named the creature “megalosaurus” (large lizard) in 1822, and officially presented his findings in 1824, with illustrations by his wife Mary Ann Mantell. Though Sir Richard Owen would not coin the term “Dinosauria” until 1842, megalosaurus was the first non-avian dinosaur to be formally described and named (though Buckland’s reconstructions would not be accurate in the least). The species would eventually receive the binomial name Megalosaurus bucklandii to honour Buckland.

Oxford Museum of Natural History exhibits: pieces of the original megalosaurus fossil.

I went through the exhibition, and emerged on the other side, where I saw the mineral and gem gallery, and what they show you about the dodo – a 3D printed skull and some pictures. Back on the ground floor, I looked at the statues, the skeleton parade, the evolution area… Lots and lots of items.

Towards the back, the Oxford University Museum of Natural History is connected to the Pitt Rivers Museum, the university’s collection of archaeology and anthropology. It was founded in 1884 when private collector August Pitt River exchanged his collection for a post as permanent lecturer in anthropology in the university. The premises reminded me a little of the Sir John Soane’s Museum (but way larger), there was so much stuff to see that my brain could not process everything.

Despite the information clutter, I was extremely impressed, especially by the self-awareness of the museum itself. Panels at the entrance explain the relation between colonialism and the collection itself. Apparently, the museum is carrying out a very serious attempt to get in touch with the cultures that spanned a good part of the items in display in order to return them, amend racist descriptions, remove them from view or challenge them. A notable example was its removal of a collection of shrunken heads, tsantsa, from the Shuar culture. Several cases pointed out how historical labels were offensive (outright calling the cultures inferior or savage) and asked how the viewer would feel if their relatives’ remains were exhibited in museums. I think it made me successfully uncomfortable.

Pitt Rivers museum general view.

However, the coolest thing happened on the third floor, when a random volunteer asked me if I knew what a prehistoric tool was. It was in the middle of a case of hand axes. I owned up that I had no idea, so he explained that it was the tool used to make all the other tools, a stone hammer – which made it the oldest item in the whole museum.

There were still things to do and see, and I had time. I had a second run around the Natural History Museum, just because I could, then I headed towards the History of Science Museum. It is one of the oldest museums in the world that was originally built as such. Unfortunately, most of it was closed due to conservation works. However, the lower floor hosts the highlights, one of them being a small blackboard which feature some equations scribbled in 1931 by no other than visiting professor Albert Einstein. Another of the items is the original penicillin culture that was applied to human clinical trials in 1941 by Howard Florey after Alexander Fleming discovered its antibiotic properties. And probably less dramatic, but utterly impressive, is a 1795 drawing of the moon by John Russell, which looks better than any photography I have ever been able to take.

Einstein's blackboard at the History of Science Museum.

I ran into a Christmas market – Christmas in Oxford, which I decided I would visit later on, and headed out to the last of the four museums, the Ashmolean Museum of art and archaeology. Its collections were started as far back as 1683. It is considered Britain’s first public museum, and hosts works spanning half a million years of human history.

On the way, I stopped to buy a drink at a supermarket, and I guess I needed it, because it was gone in… three minutes. I had been getting cramps on my toes, which is usually due to an electrolyte imbalance, so I bought a juice-like thing I like.

The Ashmolean Museum ended up being much larger than either of the other museums, outright huge. It felt similar to Victoria and Albert institution, with a lot of different collections from varying origins. It is much more modern-feeling than the other three, especially since a renovation in 2009.

On the ground floor I found Ancient Egypt – I walked past Roman and Greek sculpture first – with a whole sarcophagus complete with mummy case, and even a small temple. I then proceeded to Greece and Cyprus. I came across a staircase and followed it to the area of Conservation, Textiles, Writing, Money and History – Present of the museum, which includes a cabinet of curiosities hosting some of the oldest pieces in the institution, along some which are just… interesting. One of them is an iron lantern from 1605, which is said (probably an urban legend though) to have been used by Guy Fawkes. Fawkes has historically been considered the head of the Gunpowder Plot, in which a number of English Catholics tried to blow up the English Parliament and assassinate King James VI by digging a tunnel underneath and filling it up with barrels of gunpowder. He would have used this lantern inside the dug-up tunnels.

Ashmolean Museum Exhibits -Greek god, vaguely human form, griffon, Hindu deity.

Ashmolean Museum Exhibits - Small Egyptian temple, Sobek the crocodile god, Arabian camel from a tomb, copies of Roman sculptures.

I popped into the shop, where I saw that the restaurant and terrace was open and they were serving “Festive Afternoon Tea”. I had not been able to book it for the Natural History Museum in London, but maybe I could get away with it here. I decided to try my luck, so I climbed to the fourth floor, where the Rooftop Restaurant is. I caused a bit of a ruckus since I popped in without a reservation and solo, but once the waiters got approval, everything went smoothly. I got a seat next to the window and ordered. Afternoon tea consisted on sandwiches, scones and sweets along with a pot of loose-leaf tea.

The mini-sandwiches were: Cucumber and dill cream cheese; Brie and cranberry shallot shell, shallot purée; Roast turkey, sage emulsion, cranberry sauce, rocket; Smoked salmon, dill and horseradish crème fraîche. The scones were homemade, not plain but with cranberry and mixed spice, accompanied by English clotted cream, and Tiptree jam; they were absolutely mind-blowing.

As for sweets, I got Mini Baileys mousse, Tia Maria syrup; a Father-Christmas-shaped gingerbread biscuit; a lovely Mince Pie; and Mini vanilla cheesecake, candied clementine segment. The sweets were extremely so and I did not finish all of them, particularly the mousse.

It was hard to decide which tea I wanted. In the end I went for the in-house Ashmolean Tea, mixed specifically for the museum by local business Team Tea: a malty second flush Assam, combined with single estate Darjeeling and Black Gunpowder from China. They claim that the “Gunpowder” is a call back to the lantern. It was a great choice, and required no sugar or milk – though I drank the milk after all the sweets.

Afternoon tea, on a three-storied tray, along with a cuppa.

Belly full (maybe a bit too full), I went back down to the second floor, where I visited China and Japan, and European and English art rooms, including jewellery. On the first floor I found the Mediterranean World, Islam and Near East, and India. Back on the ground floor there was more China, Rome, and a collection of Classical casts I had missed before. I missed a bit of the collection, displayed at the third floor, because there is no staircase access there – or I did not find those stairs. I left about ten minutes before closing time.

In front of the Ashmolean Museum stands the beautiful Randolph Hotel Oxford, a Hilton property that is way out of my league, but I can admire. Down Broad Street there were tons of small cafés and shops – collectibles, memorabilia, books… It started drizzling a little just as I walked by one of the largest bookshops, so it was a great idea to pop in and snoop. here are two writers that greatly define Oxford’s personality, and both had their dedicated areas – Lewis Carrol and JRR Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings, and father of the modern high fantasy genre, I guess. I wanted everything, but I was limited by luggage size. Good thing I can be reasonable at times. But only at times… T

The drizzle cleared, and I was quite at the centre of Oxford. I explored the Christmas in Oxford market, and then the Claredon Building and courtyard, the Bodleian Library and the Bridge of Sighs. I checked whether I could get a ticket for the tours happening the following day, but they were sold out. It was a pity, but I could live with that – there were plenty of things to do.

The Clarendon Building is a Neoclassical structure, originally destined to be the University Press under the design of William Townesend. Today, it is part of the library, founded in 1602 by Sir Thomas Bodley, and it hosts 13 million items in print. Besides the Clarendon, the library is hosted in a number of buildings – I was snooping around the 15th century Duke Humfrey’s Library and the Radcliffe Camera (from the Latin “chamber”, not because there is any kind of camera around). The Bridge of Sighs is officially called Hetford Bridge. It is a sky walk between the new and old wards of Hetford College, actually a relatively new construction, dating from 1914.

I walked past the Radcliffe Camera and the Gothic University Church of St Mary the Virgin. I strolled into High Street with another of the high-class lodgings – the Old Bank Hotel. The sun had already set and it looked – and felt – like it was the middle of the night, but it was not even 17:30, as I had just left the Ashmolean Museum right before closing time at 17:00.

Oxford at night - Library, Bridge of Sighs, Radcliff Camera, Colleges.

I went all the way towards the end of High Street to see the colleges and other university and religious buildings. It’s difficult to actually explain the roles that Colleges have in Oxford. They are technically “residential colleges”, and become both housing and teaching institutions. All university students are members of one of the 36 colleges. The University describes them as “academic communities where students have their tutorials”. The colleges offer courses, and the students combine courses (year or semester-long subjects) until they lead to a degree. Classes are organised by the colleges, and the preferred teaching method is the aforementioned tutorial, a small group of people (one to four) discussing a topic of academic nature, usually related to the week’s work. Examinations and important lectures are conducted by the University as a whole.

The first building I came across along High Street was All Souls College (officially The College of All Souls of the Faithful Departed, of Oxford), established in 1438. From that corner, I saw one historical building after the other. All the students take the exams at the end of term in the Examination Schools, which also serves for lectures. It was erected between 1876 and 1882. A bit further down the road I saw the Queen’s College, which dates back to 1341, and it’s named after Queen Consort Philippa of Hainault, wife and political advisor to Edward III. I finally spotted Magdalen College, founded in 1458 and one of the most important colleges in town, with beautiful Gothic and Neo Gothic architecture.

I backtracked towards the other end of High Street, walked past All Saints’ Church, Lincoln College Library, and found the Covered Market. The structure, designed by John Gwynn, has been in use since it opened in 1774. It has permanent stalls and wooden beams that give it a church-like vaulted ceiling, along with a cast iron ceiling. Most of the shops were closed though, and the market was almost empty.

Covered market, a wooden structure.

I reached Carfax Tower, or St Martin’s Tower. It used to belong to a long-gone church built in the 12th century, and technically no building in Oxford may be higher than it. From there, I turned into St Aldate’s street, where the Town Hall stands. Unfortunately, it was under renovation, and mostly covered by construction scaffolding.

I reached Christ Church College, which I planned to visit the following morning. In front of it stands the small Medieval St Aldates Church. I went out a little further until I reached Folly Bridge and Bacon’s Tower over River Thames. The tower is not the original 12th century one, but a sort of revival castle erected in 1849 as a folly – basically a decorative building (hence the name).

I tried to drop by the Christmas Market again to buy a cute bauble, but it turned out that it closed at 18:00, and it was 18:30 by then. I headed back to the hotel and got my room. After a shower, I settled down to make my plans for the following day and watch some TV (without even having to surf for a channel in a language I understood…). I even managed to stay awake long enough not to give myself jet-lag.

However, for the life of me, I could not figure out how to operate the radiator in the room…

9th – 11th December 2025: Oxford & London {United Kingdom, December 2025}

Posted on 2 May 2026 by JBinnacle

This little trip was supposed to be to Seville, Spain. I had an unexpected and quite-harsh project in October-November and I decided to spend part of the income rewarding myself for going through it. Thus, I traced a good plan, I swear. Three-day trip, placed right after the Spanish December long weekend, destination accessible by public transport, not so cold… It was a perfect plan. And then I went on Ryanair page and saw that my early-morning flight to London-Stansted was back on the rooster. And furthermore… it was comparably cheap.

But I stuck to the plan. Until I saw that the Oxford University Museum of Natural History was running an exhibition and had pulled out some of its heavy-weight artefacts… But what really sealed the deal was that I found a flights + hotels combination that was actually cheaper than trains + hotel in Seville. It really seemed like the universe was coming together to tell me I could and should take this trip. Yes, it was quite close to the Prague trip, but I was quite literally facing four months of downtime afterwards due to a long project coming up.

So the plan became landing in London, heading to Oxford. Once there, I would see the four museums belonging to the University of Oxford. The next day, I would go back to London, because, in the end, it is one of my favourite cities. Spoiler alert though – I did not get to see much Christmas stuff there. Weird.

For London, I booked a time slot at the Natural History Museum, bought a ticket for Wicked and signed up for a tour with the London Museum of Transport. In Oxford, the museums are free, and I did not know how long I would take, so I would improvise after that.

Something that I have been wanting to do for a while was the Afternoon Tea at the Natural History Museum. You get to see the Mary Anning rooms, usually reserved for members, and there are dinosaur-print macarons. Unfortunately, when I tried to book that, it turned out it was for minimum two people, and since they charged up front, I could not trick the system – though I honestly considered booking it and just bring a take-out container and live off the second afternoon tea for the following day. Temptation, but in the end it was way too expensive for just a whim. Fate would give me a hand with that, too, even if the start of the trip was somewhat… bumpy.

Oxford And London Trip Dec'25 Intro.

One of the things I had to do to travel to the UK was getting an ETA (Electronic Travel Authorisation). I am pretty sure I don’t need one, because I have the right to work in the UK, but I decided to go through the process because it felt easier than drawing up all the paperwork and taking it along to prove it at entrance. On the 20th of November, I downloaded the app and followed the instructions – first, I got a security code on my email to start the application. I had to take a photo of my passport, then scan the chip (I did not even know my phone could do that!). Next, the system asked me to “scan my face”, I guess similarly to what the machines do when you enter the UK border, and I had to take a picture with a white background and no shadows – finding that background was the most difficult part. The last step was, obviously, paying for it, and of course the bank app and the ETA one had to be open at the same time on the phone and switching from one to the other was stressful because my banking app sucks.

After payment, the application was sent, and I received an email that it would be checked. This was 16:09. When I came out from work, I had a valid ETA – the email had arrived at 16:18. Yay, I’m not suspicious. The authorisation is valid for two years, and allows for multiple entries. I will have to make good use of that.

Plane tickets, hotel bookings, train schedules and ETA in hand, I was ready for a three-day getaway in England.

26th November 2025: Ningyō Exhibition (Alcalá de Henares, Spain)

Posted on 21 March 2026 by JBinnacle

Dolls have probably existed for as long as humans have been humans. The earliest known were found in Egyptian tombs from the 21^st century BCE. Romans had rag dolls already around 300 BCE, and dolls with moving parts and removable cloths existed around the 200 BCE. They are not just children’s playthings, throughout history they have been used to teach, in rituals, and / or been infused with magical and spiritual meanings. The oldest Japanese dolls date from the Jōmon Period [縄文時代], probably as early as 8000 BCE. The country has had an extremely long and strong connection with dolls for millenia.

Ningyō: Art and Beauty of Japanese dolls is a travelling exhibition by The Japan Foundation, designed to broadcast that connection. The word ningyō [人形] is composed of two kanji: 人 nin, which means human or person, and 形 gyō, form, shape or figure. Together, they translate as doll, puppet or marionette, particularly when referencing the traditional Japanese dolls, but literally mean “human shape”. It is not a bad description.

If one were to relate Japan with a religion, this would probably be Shinto – though it is more a philosophy rather than a religion. Shinto is greatly based on symbolism along with the respect of nature. From early times, paper dolls with vague human shapes were used in its purification or protection rituals. Later on, wooden dolls became decoration, depicting Imperial weddings or armoured heroes, to wish good growing to children.

As dolls grew more and more popular, craftsmen and artisans became more prominent. Different shapes and styles were particularly favoured by royalty, and the different Japanese regions developed their unique doll fashion. Complex traditional dolls are still made by hand – artisans create the individual parts and a final craftsman assembles them. More simple shapes are created and hand-painted by the same expert. Tradition spread to modern times with the arrival of plastic dolls imported from the US, which eventually gave way to the industry of collectible figures.

Dolls depicting the Renjishi (Two Lions) a kabuki dance with two men wearing long wigs, one white and one red, and bulky kimono.

Fuji Musume (Wisteria maiden), a Japanese doll wearing a pretty kimono.

The Japan Foundation has two sets of dolls circulating throughout the world. November saw one of the sets in Alcalá de Henares, in the exhibition hall and former hospital called Antiguo Hospital de Santa María la Rica. The hospital was established in the late 13^th or early 14^th century bringing together several already-existing houses. It later passed onto a religious brotherhood and focused on tending to pilgrims until in the 19^th century, it closed down. In the year 2000 it became the seat of the Cultural Council, and it is now used for travelling exhibitions.

Wooden Kokeshi dolls.

The exhibition displays about 70 pieces, all of them modern and mainly created by the same artisan, Mochizuki Reikou, whose studio was established in 1936. There was also a video explaining the same information that was displayed on the signs, but accompanied by testimonies of actual doll-makers and experts from the Tokyo National Museum (Tōkyō Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan [東京国立博物館]). I quite enjoyed it, but I would not like to be in that room alone with dimmed light… some of the dolls could be creepy.

Japanese wish dolls - you draw an eye when you make a wish, and the other when the wish is fulfilled.

Japanese dolls depicting the chold Oniwakamaru catching a fish, and an oiran (courtesan).

There was not much going on in town, as it was a weekday in that period in which everyone is getting ready for Christmas. However, it was the only free time I could muster within the month the exhibition was open due to work and other trips. I did not even stay for lunch, but headed home right after.

22nd November 2025: Expogema & Wicked: For Good (Madrid, Spain)

Posted on 14 March 2026 by JBinnacle

Wicked: For Good was released on Friday the 21st of November, and this time around I decided not to hit the cinema on opening day as I did for the first part, but to head out on Saturday. That way I could make a day out of it, combining the film with a mineralogy and gemology event. I had to work on Friday morning anyway, so there was no way I could make it to the first session even if I tried. Unfortunately, the weekend coincided with planned railway maintenance – which meant no trains whatsoever.

Getting to Madrid with the train system out (albeit scheduled) was not an odyssey, but close to it. I got to the coach station with 20 minutes to spare, and I had to queue up in a long line. Fortunately, I made it to the bus – good, because I had a timed ticket I had bought online. I learnt later that you can buy a ticket “for the next bus” on site and it’s actually cheaper… There were extra coaches running at the same time to make up for the lack of trains, which makes sense. The train company had arranged coaches of its own, but it charged “train money” for “bus service”. Well over a hundred people had decided, just like me, to take a bus at bus price.

The trip was uneventful with few stops, and I reached the terminus Avenida de América before I had to take the underground to get to Ríos Rosas. That placed me at the ETSIME Escuela Técnica Superior de Ingenieros de Minas y Energía around noon, total peak time. The place was packed with people who had heard about the Expogema event but had no idea what they were getting into – and were therefore “upset” that the event only had “rocks”, and that they were expensive (“lady, I cannot sell you a 400-euro tourmaline for 60 quid” was one of the sentences that echoed in the chambers). I had to take three walks around the fair in order to just see what was on display. I could not afford most of what was being exhibited anyway and for a change, I left without buying anything. I would make up for that on the 2026 Expominerales in the end…

Expogema is the fair dedicated to exhibiting and selling gems and gem-adjacent items such as jewellery. It is organised yearly by the Spanish gemological Institute, Instituto Gemológico Español IGE is a non-profit organisation, created in 1967, as a jewellers’ association. Today it independently certifies and appraises gemstones and jewels, especially diamonds. It works with individual owners, insurance companies, and anyone who is interested in a particular piece. It emits super-complete certificates which describe any gem to boot. Unfortunately, since their analyses are purely physicochemical, the one thing that cannot be certified is the ethical origin of the rocks.

The ETSIME hosts two big fairs a year, Expominerales and Expogema. I missed Expogema last year, because while it’s usually held in late-November or early-December, it happened in September. This year, I wanted to have a look, and I could combine it with other events happening that weekend. Besides, I like the ETSIME, with its little classic museum of mining and geology (Museo Histórico-Minero Don Felipe de Borbón y Grecia) and its eclectic architecture by Ricardo Velázquez Bosco. The building seems to be in perpetual renovation though, but it has a beautiful cloister, which this time around was packed with curious onlookers.

Interior of the ETSIME - two floors of arcades and a glass and iron ceiling.

I left the school and walked out towards a former water cistern, now turned into an exhibition hall Sala Canal de Isabel II. The public company Canal de Isabel II manages the water supply in Madrid, which includes the structures around the River Lozoya. In 1858, the first water deposit was inaugurated in Madrid, designed by engineer Juan de Ribera Piferrer. Three more deposits were constructed, even though an accident during the works on the third one caused 30 fatalities and 60 wounded.

This last deposit was not built underground. It was designed by engineer Diego Martín Montalvo and materialised by Luis Moya Idígoras in 1907. It was a tower made out of mostly brick, and with a height of 36 metres. At the top there was a metal sphere which could hold up to 1500 cubic meters of water. It was used until 1952 to store water, then abandoned, and eventually turned into an exhibition hall in 1986.

In the year 2000, maybe as an operation to improve the reputation of the entity, the foundation Fundación Canal was established, to divulge culture, art, environmental knowledge and the importance of water. Legally, a Spanish foundation must serve “general interest” purposes and must be a non-profit. It might have served as a cover-up or money laundry point, considering that during the 2010s, Canal de Isabel II was involved in several monetary scandals and corruption cases.

The former deposit was hosting photography exhibition, a sample of the archives they have, called 14 millones de ojos. Colección, fotografía, público (14 million eyes. Collection, photography, public). It was a great excuse to explore both the building and the adjacent park, though most of the area was closed off as it was the weekend. The exhibition was a bit strange, with images all over the place, but some of them were very cool. It is apparently… a collection of pictures that people have taken of items that have been exhibited in the venue before? I am not completely sure… There was a disturbing amount of portraits of people pretending to be naked though…

Water deposit turned into exhibition venue - high brick tower with a spherical top.

After a walk around the park, I took the underground and headed towards the central district of Madrid. Since I had started a Christmas ornament collection, buying one in Paris and one in Monaco, I decided to try my luck at finding one for Madrid too. The quest was… surprisingly difficult, but I found a bauble in the seventh souvenir shop I checked.

Afterwards, I found a spot at Kawaii Café for a light lunch. Though they were extremely busy, they had a spot for me and given the choice, I actually like their food. Plus, they’ve got discount cards now. I had a smoothie and a salmon bagel which was more than worth its price. Once I was done, I had the time to check out a couple of shops before I headed to Yelmo Cines Ideal to watch Wicked: For Good, the second part of the Wicked film duology, starring Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. I like Ideal because most of the individual cinemas have enough of a slope that I manage to see above the head of the person in the row in front of me.

Bagel and smoothie from Kawaii Café.

I ended up with conflicting feelings about Wicked: For good. On the one hand, the film felt about 45 minutes to an hour too long. There were reprises of scenes and extra focus on interactions – especially the love triangle – that I could have done without. Also, random spotlight on characters that I know, but don’t even remember if they were even featured in the first part, such as Elphaba’s nanny. On the other hand, there was no way the “ham” could have fit into just one film, considering how long the first part was already. Nevertheless, I do have the feeling they wanted to delve a little further into the authoritarian dystopia of Oz, and the character of the Wizard. After all, if you have Jeff Goldblum around, you want to feature him as heavily as you can. Either that, or the film-makers tried to show the power of propaganda in some modern societies. And not-so-subtly aim for an Oscar or two – the first instalment competed on ten categories and took home two statuettes, but the second one was not even nominated once.

Wicked: For good focuses on the second act of the Wicked musical, based on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. If the first half tells the story of how Elphaba “becomes” the Wicked Witch of the West, the second focuses on how that affects her. It surprises me though how come people were not anticipating the hit the Wicked film was going to be. When I went in for the first movie, it was just a regular release. This time around, we had a photocall and staff wearing witch hats and handling magic wands.

Wicked photo-op cardboard with all the main characters.

Cynthia Erivo does a good job on Elphaba, but in the end, it’s not that hard to portray her as a sympathetic character, since the watcher is the one privy to all her struggles and goals. However, Ariana Grande delivers a fantastic performance – I had watched the musical thrice at this point (four times now), and it is the first time that the character of Glinda has actually touched me. Grande’s approach gives a depth to the “good witch” that it’s often overlooked. The spotlight on her did not feel as a filler to me, and her voice breaking during I couldn’t be happier is a fantastic touch.

There is something I have realised though – if they decide to turn this into a franchise, I don’t think I’ll follow it. I would not have developed such a big emotional connection with Wicked if my first contact with it had been the films – they are way too long. The musical is just the bare minimum to tug at your heart, no fillers. How I wish I had seen the original New York production though…

The film has a few strokes of genius, mostly homages to the 1939 movie The Wizard of Oz, especially how the character of Dorothy, who is only insinuated, is a carbon copy of Judy Garland’s rendition, down to the dress and hairstyle. Furthermore, the wink to Margaret Hamilton’s cackling laughter and Glinda’s reaction – akin to what new generations would have, being absolutely flabbergasted by it – is hilarious.

Speaking of new and generations. On my right, a group of university students who spent most of the film bawling. On my left, a couple – one of them was a fan, the other one had no idea what was happening, and guessing along the way. Further on that side, a little girl loudly wondering what was going on half of the time. The joys of going to the movies at the weekend.

Upon leaving the cinema, I would have usually walked to the train station, but I had no trains. Thus, I had to go to Puerta del Sol to catch the underground. It was packed. I had not realised that they were turning on the Christmas lights that evening! When I had to change, the crowds in the corridors actually felt dangerous, and I was relieved when I could get to the platform in the opposite direction. That was stressful for a few minutes. I was lucky, though, that the first station was not closed and I could get in.

Once in the Avenida de América hub, I bought a coach ticket to get home – thus learning about the “next bus” tickets. Afterwards, I boarded the first scheduled service, which was on time, direct and ran into no traffic jams. I had been fortunate enough to park near the coach station, so I was home within a little over an hour after boarding. All in all, despite the lack of trains, transportation worked smoothly. I saw everything I wanted to, and I had time to spare, the weather was nice and I saw the film spoiler-free. A rather successful day, I’d say.

17th November 2025: Nice is nice! {France & Monaco, November 2025}

Posted on 7 March 2026 by JBinnacle

Yes, I’m sure the joke has been made before – ad nauseam. It still describes my experience pretty well. I was up and ready to go almost an hour earlier than planned, so I left my luggage at the hotel and set off towards Place Garibaldi, one of the hip places in town. Nice was waking up, people heading to work on a Monday morning. I walked by some interesting buildings, amongst them the Modern and Contemporary Art Museum (MAMAC), Musée d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporain, which, along with the Natural Science Museum, is closed for renovation. The square Place Garibaldi hosts a statue to the man in the middle, it’s surrounded by Baroque buildings with arcades, and crterminaiss-crossed by tram lines.

Place Garibaldi, with a statue and Italian-style buildings.

I continued towards the marina Nice Port and went along the Promenade a bit further north. All the private beaches along the Mediterranean Sea coast were closed off due to high waves. Despite that, it was not even 10:00 yet, and it was already warm. The temperature would reach 21 ºC. In late November. I guess that explains all the holidaymakers that crowded the area – the whole French Riviera got its reputation from mild winters, and today was a great example of that, even after the deluge on Sunday. I walked along the marina and Castle Hill at the Promenade level, going around Pointe de Rauba-Caupe, where the memorial Monument aux morts de Rauba-Caupe-Nice stands to commemorate the fallen in World War I. It didn’t take long to reach familiar territory, Quai des États-Unis, which I walked along until it turned into the even-more-famous Promenade des Anglais. I had taken off my coat by then, and the beaches, protected from the open sea, were again open.

The rocky coast of Nice.

Nice beaches, with waves breaking.

When I reached the luxury hotel Le Negresco, I walked into the city, looking for the Orthodox cathedral, Cathédrale Orthodoxe Russe de Saint-Nicolas de Nice, colloquially known as the Russian cathedral. It is an early-20^th-century building, erected in a modern take of the Old Russian style by architect Mikhail Preobrazhensky. It was later declared Historic Monument due to its uniqueness.

St Nicholas orthodox cathedral

Afterwards, I headed towards the area of Cimiez, and after a couple of wrong turns, I finally reached the hill it comprises. Strolling by gated communities, up I went. I wanted to see the Belle Époque Ancien Hôtel Régina. Though today it’s an apartment complex, it was originally built as a hotel to host Queen Victoria of England when she spent time in town. A bit past it, I reached the top of the mountain. There is a green area there, Jardin des Arènes de Cimiez, home to several buildings, museums and ruins.

My first stop was the Roman amphitheatre Arènes de Cimiez. It was erected in the first century CE, with a capacity for around 4,000 spectators, in the Roman town of Cemenelum. Though it was abandoned in the 4^th century, it was never completely forgotten, but it was not until the late 1800s that the ruins were first addressed scientifically.

Ruins of Roman amphitheatre Arenes de Cimet

A bit further away stands the Monastery of Cimiez, along with its church, Monastère de Cimiez. This religious place dates back from the 9^th century, it was originally a Benedictine abbey, which was later turned into a Franciscan monastery. The current building dates from the 14^th century, and in the 19^th century Neo Gothic façade was added. The interior is decorated with frescoes from the 13^thcentury, and the wooden altar gilded with gold.

Monastery of Cimet - gothic looking and with frescoes on the inside.

I then backtracked towards the archaeological museum Musée d’Archéologie de Nice / Cimiez. The museum itself is small, but entrance gives you access to the whole archaeological site Thermes romains de Cimiez, the Roman baths that served Cemenelum between the 1^st and 4^th centuries. The museum holds both original artefacts and reconstructions, and I was particularly smitten by a small sculpture of a faun.

Roman ruins of Cimet, Nice, and a small sculpture of a naked faun-

By the time I left the museum it was about 14:15. I headed back into town to pick up my luggage at the hotel and buy some lunch (I did remember this time to do it before I got to the transport hubs!). I took the train towards the area where the Aéroport Nice Côte d’Azur airport is. My flight boarded at 18:25, and I am just not used to airports having things to do around them. But this one did – there was a museum and a botanical / animal park nearby. I found the entrance to the latter, called Parc Phœnix, and walked into the glasshouse that hosts the tropical plants and animals. There were terrariums with reptiles, including crocodiles, pythons, and lots of tortoises. There was a cactus area, and after the orchid ward I suddenly saw a pink reflection – there was a flock of flamingos basking in the warmth of the glasshouse, in a small pond made for them.

There is an insectarium sprinkled with small Ghibli figures to adorn the different habitats. There also lived the axolotls and the koi fish. I then went to the outside area, where I was able to have my sandwich. In the garden, I could see the aviaries, and the free peafowls. I caught a glimpse of a wallaby, but probably the most exotic animal over there was the huge rat I spotted. And some very fun greater rhea (Rhea americana) who were very interested in the shiny camera.

Parc Phoenix - the glasshouse, flamingoes, an iguana, a goat and some greater rhea.

I spent a bit over an hour there, and even if I did not see all the animals, it was nice to have something to do which did not involve waiting at an airport lounge. It took me 15 minutes to reach the terminal from the door of the park. And for some reason, they have a sculpture of a wooden shark hanging from the airport ceiling.

Security went smoothly and boarding was fast and efficient. Since it was a regional flight, all trolleys became checked at the gate. I was carrying a backpack so I was allowed right through. It was the smallest aircraft I’ve flown in lately, and it surprised me that the trip was much faster than the one to Paris. Of course, I should have realised I was quite closer, after having crossed a good chunk of France by train on Saturday.

Once I left the terminal, I had to wait for the shuttle to take me to the parking lot. At first, I waited for a couple of minutes at the wrong stop – I guess I was a bit more tired than I thought. Then, when I was a the correct stop, the mini van stopped further than the road and left before I could reach it, until around 21:30 I finally got on board. I reached the car, and saw with relief that nobody had bust the window to steal my 2010 Sat-Nav which I had forgotten on the copilot’s seat.

Traffic was not too bad, so I was home within the hour. I got some food in me, had a shower and went to bed, still giddy from everything I had lived in such a short period of time. My only regret was wasting money on a new Lonely Planet guide, which was pretty much useless – it did point out all the hip spaces and places to eat and drink, but the information on historical sites was lacking… I miss the old guidebooks.

16th November 2025: Day trip to Monaco {France & Monaco, November 2025}

Posted on 28 February 2026 by JBinnacle

Ready to brave a 100% chance of rain, I woke up, drank my coffee, and left my hotel in Nice to head to the station. At that point, Nice was in weather alert for storms, rain, flooding, waves, winds, and landslides. However, my destination, Monaco – less than a half-hour by train – was chill. It was drizzling when I stepped onto the street, but not enough to even need an umbrella. When I reached the station, I set to fight the ticket machines, which were so confusing that I missed my train while trying to finish the transaction. Fortunately, with a frequency of 30 minutes, it was a train I could afford to miss. I spent the time taking pictures of Gare de Nice-Ville. The station is a typical example of the use of iron as building material at the end of the 19^th century. It was designed by architect Louis-Jules Bouchot in the Louis XIII style, inspired by Parisian buildings. Though it originally sat outside the city, now it is right in the middle of it, and it has been in service since 1864.

In the train shed of Gare de Nice - glass ceilings and wrought iron beams.

When my train arrived, it was only 20 minutes or so to reach the principality Principauté de Monaco, a city-state that spans little over 2 square kilometres in area – it qualifies as a microstate, and it is the second smallest state in the world, with not even 10,000 nationals. However, almost 38,500 people live there, making it very highly populated – think Malta on steroids.

Monaco has been ruled by the House of Grimaldi since around 1300, when the family conquered the territory. It was annexed by France after the French Revolution, but after the defeat of Napoleon it was given to the Kingdom of Sardinia. When Sardinia became part of Italy in the 19^th century, Monaco regained its sovereignty by conceding outer territories to France, with independence being achieved by the Franco-Monégasque Treaty of 1861. At this time, it had become a tourist giant, establishing hotels and a famous casino. Nowadays, the city-state is considered one of the most expensive and wealthiest places in the world – around 30% of its residents are millionaires. It has no personal income-tax and low business taxes, which makes it a tax heaven and money-laundering hub, while still using the euro though it is not part of the European Union – hello there, unexpected Internet roaming charges!

Most of the city is in levels due to the slopes of the French Alps plummeting right into the Mediterranean Sea. Though originally there were different municipalities in the country, today Monaco is basically one big city – with a lot of parks, for sure. In 2015, it literally ran out of space for houses, so it began a project to create “land in the sea”, using concrete blocks as foundation. This is one of the nine administrative wards, the most important – or famous – of them being Monaco-Ville (the technical capital) and Monte Carlo.

Besides tourism and money-laundering, one of the most important industries in Monaco is gambling. The casino Le Grand Casino de Monte Carlo single-handedly makes so much money that it is the reason Monegasques don’t need to pay taxes besides social-insurance ones. Since 1929, the country has held the Monaco Grand Prix on an annual basis, along with other major races, on a “designated” circuit Circuit de Monaco, which is part of the actual town’s streets and roads.

I reached Monte Carlo station half an hour later than intended, but well within my self-impose timetable. I followed the signs to the casino and walked through steep streets lined with manors in the Belle Époque architecture style. After ten minutes or so, with just a few droplets of drizzle in the air, I reached the park Jardins du Casino de Monte Carlo, composed of two different gardens (Jardins des Boulingrins and Jardins de la Petite Afrique), with a beautiful classic merry-go-round within, and some ducks frolicking in puddles. The gardens lead to the Place du Casino and of course the casino itself – Le Grand Casino de Monte Carlo. I am not a gambler, but the architectural interest of the building attracted me, and cultural visits can be carried out in the morning. However, these cannot be booked online, and time was quite limited. Thus, I had chosen to make it my first visit.

Outside the Casino de Montecarlo.

The two security guards – metal detectors in hand – smiled at me and waved me through. I must not look like a casino risk (which also made me chuckle remembering how I had been so thoroughly checked in the Paris Palaeontology Gallery, maybe they saw me as suspicious for some reason?). When buying my ticket, I understood why you could not book online. When you purchase the cultural visit, you are given the chance to “invest” that money into a voucher for playing slots once the casino opens for actual business. I declined, citing that I was not dressed for that. I later learnt that there is a gaming room for the “rabble” before getting into the actual high-class room – but the cultural visit allows you to snoop almost everywhere.

I was not interested in gambling anyway, so I went on my merry way to do the aforementioned snooping. The casino is owned by a public company controlled by the government and the Grimaldi house, and it is only open to foreigners. It was established in 1863, and the architectural style of the current building is a bit on the eclectic side. Architect Charles Garnier combined elements of Baroque, Renaissance, Belle Époque, some Art Nouveau… to create a luxury environment. Some of the classical games gambled on include poker, craps, blackjack and baccarat, along with different kinds of roulettes. However, the sheer amount of slot machines for different games threw me off. They looked completely out of place in the classical environment. The two halls with only classic games were my favourite, and I saw that some of the tables had a minimum bet in the hundreds of euros.

Lavish interior of the Monte Carlo casino - everything is gold and golden!

Not having run into James Bond (the casino was featured in Never Say Never Again and Golden Eye), I left the casino and headed to the real reason I had been wanting to visit Monaco since May 1992. I am not even kidding.

Probably the Universal Expo in Seville in 1992 was my first big trip. I was just a child, so my parents organised everything, but I’m told I behaved like a trooper. One of the pavilions we visited then was the Monaco one, where there was a giant aquarium with an underwater tunnel. I was immediately smitten, and promised myself that one day I would visit Monaco and the Oceanographic Museum there. Today was that day.

The Musée Océanographique de Monaco was the brainchild of Prince Albert I of Grimaldi, who ruled the principality between 1889 and 1922. While he cannot be considered the father of oceanography, one could say that he was one of its main early-adopters. He owned four research vessels, studied ocean currents, and collected biological specimens and soil samples – he did a lot of cool stuff. After his death, the most famous diver in the world, Jacques-Yves Cousteau, became director of the museum between 1957 and 1988.

However, before I entered the building, I had to get there. Adjacent to the Le Grand Casino de Monte Carlo stands the Opéra de Monte Carlo. To the other side, one of the most famous stretches of the racing circuit Circuit de Monaco, the Fairmont Hairpin Curve. I snuck into a hotel terrace for a good picture, but left before any security guard could come to kick me out.

Afterwards, I explored a park with ocean views, where there was a seagull on duty to make noises at tourists. I am glad I entered the park using the entry I did, thus I was not confused by the footprints left there. When I saw “Maradona” and “Pelé” I realised that the park was dedicated to footballers. It makes sense that it is called The Champions Promenade – but if I had used any other entrance, I would have had zero idea who those people were.

Young seagull standing at the pier.

I walked past the already-getting-ready Christmas market, and walked around, and headed south along the Mediterranean Sea coastline. I strolled past interesting buildings such as the Auditorium Rainier III and some monuments to famous racers – William Grover Monument and Statue de Juan Manuel Fangio. On the other side of the road I spotted the small chapel Église de Sainte-Dévote, the patron-saint of Monaco.

The Quai Albert 1er had been taken over by a funfair, so I could only snoop around the commercial gallery. I finally tackled the ascent to the ward of Monaco-Ville, the highest part of the city, I think. I went up through pretty stairs through a park until I reached the historical Rampe de la Major which, through the Medieval Gate Porte d’entrée au Rocher lead me into the heart of Monaco – Rocher de Monaco, the area known as “The Rock”, in the ward of Monaco-Ville.

There stands the palace, the Old Town, the cathedral and the museum which was my destination. I stopped for some panoramic views and photos of the Monte Carlo area, and them I scurried through the narrow traditional streets, now turned into restaurants and souvenir shops. I stopped to take a couple of photos of the cathedral, since it was not raining yet, and continued on. A few minutes later I was walking up the stairs of the Baroque Revival building, which perches over a cliff – the Musée Océanographique de Monaco.

My inner child squealed. My outer adult might have too. We both headed downstairs to visit the Aquarium first. The central ocean tank hosts turtles, sharks, and tropical fish, while smaller aquariums focus on species from different ocean regions: Mediterranean on one ward, Tropical on the other. It was actually smaller than other aquariums I’ve visited before but there was something special about this one.

Oceanographic Museum of Monaco aquarium - clownfish, nautilus, scorpion fish and gobid hiding in a pipe.

I then went up to the first floor, which hosts the main exhibit rooms. As I got there, I was greeted by a model of a giant squid, after having some fun with the giant clams decorating the stairs. The central ward of that floor is named Océanomania. It hosts specimens from all the oceans around the world, including a polar bear model and a huge walrus skeleton. Smaller but in no way less cool, there were shells, fish in formaldehyde, and a taxidermied / mummified mermaid. I kid you not. Of course, it’s a souvenir made in Japan using the body of an ape and the tail of a fish, but for a while those were considered the real thing.

In the middle of the room there was a sculpture of a sperm whale breaching. On the right stands the Whale Room Salle de la Bailene, whose ceiling is populated by a few skeletons of cetaceans. There is an immersive temporary exhibition there, Méditerranée 2050 L’Exposition. It is some sort of virtual reality, playing with how a submersible dive would look in 2050 in the Mediterranean if we somehow managed to solve all our problems with pollution immediately. I sat through the English version, and the animation was beautiful.

Oceanographic Museum of Monaco exhibits - a sculpture of a breaching sperm whale, cetacean skeletons and a fake mermaid skeleton made from the remains of a monkey and a fish.

Before exploring the left ward Monaco and L’Océan (Monaco and the Ocean), I decided to go up to the Terrace Restaurant and have some lunch. It was underwhelming, but convenient. I was given the worst table – though it was for four people – next to the door (which people forgot to close all the time) and the waiter was pretty unfriendly. But I sat down for 30 minutes, got some warm food into me – faux-fillet sauce au Roquefort (rib eye steak with blue cheese sauce) with chips.

When it was time to leave the restaurant, it was raining hard, and I had to walk across the building actual terrace to get to the door again. I hurried through, protecting the cameras, and got down to see the remaining ward. There stands a replica of a research ship and interactive exhibits of oceanographic instruments, along with the discoveries made by Prince Albert I.

To finish off, I left through the shop. Throughout the museum there are little machines where you can purchase souvenir coins, and I hoped that they also had them in the shop – I did not have enough change for all of them. If they had not had the coins, there was a machine outside, quite literally next to the Yellow Submarine where I would have bought one. Since they had them in the shop I got… all five.

It was still early, and the rain was back to a manageable drizzle, so I wandered the gardens Jardins Saint-Martin, a bit of a botanic garden with views of the ocean, the Musée Océanographique de Monaco, and the harbour Port de Fontvieille.

Oceanographic Museum of Monaco standing above the waves, with a seagull in the front of the picture.

The 100% chances of rain were still holding, and it didn’t feel like the weather gods would favour me for much longer. I reached the Cathedral of our Lady Immaculate, a Neo Romanic building which – luckily – had the altar lit up. Actress / Princess Grace Kelly is reportedly buried there, but most of the graves were covered by carpets and I was unable to find hers. What I did find was a commemorative coin machine. By the time I left the building, I had run out of favour from the gods. I pulled my umbrella and marched on towards the Place du Palace, where the Palace Principier, the official residence of the head of state is. The Palace can sometimes be visited but it’s at the moment closed. But do you know what it had? Commemorative coins.

Cathedral of Monaco - neoromanesque building, inside and outside.

One of my (albeit silly) goals for the day had been walking from the south to the north borders of the city-state. Imagine the bragging rights, crossing a country from west to east (I had done that from the station to the ocean border), going from the lowest point (the harbour) to the highest (the Oceanographic Museum terrace), and from south to north. However, it was raining in earnest now, so my umbrella and I headed to the private collections of cars that the Prince owns La Collection Automobiles de S.A.S. le Prince de Monaco. I went down towards Monte Carlo using the same stairs I had used before, which had turned into a bit of a waterfall. I was not far from the car collection, but the straight line was blocked by the funfair I had seen before. I had to stop under a roof to throw my rain poncho on.

View of Monaco in the middle of a stormcloud, showing the marina and the tall buildings on the coastline.

The Private Cars Collection of HSH Prince of Monaco is quite impressive, containing ancient cars, classical ones, modern machines and quite a few F1 engines. I saw Fords from the first batch of Fords ever built, Rolls Royces, Aston Martins, Ferraris, Lamborghinis… I even inspected the sub-collections of helmets. This time I didn’t buy the commemorative coin, but a casino chip imitation.

Some cars in the Prince's collection - racing and luxury Ferraris.

I undid my way from the morning. The storm was now pretty bad, and water ran down the streets. I decided to take one last picture of the Casino de Monte Carlo, lit up, and then head back to the station. Of course, when I got there, the rain stopped. However, my shoes were waterlogged, and so were my jeans up to my knees. I decided to head back to Nice anyway, and give up my cross-country endeavour.

Casino de Montecarlo in the evening while it rains.

Trains were delayed due to rain, but one came shortly after I had reached the platform. On the train, I reflected that my inner child was extremely happy. My inner adult too. My outer adult was pretty drenched. Upon arriving at Gare de Nice-Ville, I stopped at the supermarket for supplies and went back to the room. As soon I reached the hotel, the skies opened again. However the meteorological alert had already passed. I had to talk to reception to get a working remote for my air conditioning machine, because the previous evening had been okay, but today I was going to need some extra heat. I had a shower, changed into my PJs and devised a strategy to dry off my shoes, trousers, and maybe socks, using the hair dryer without overheating the machine. I was mostly successful. Socks had to come back in a separate bag, wetter than merely damp, though.

The shoes were pretty okay (though the inner soles will never be the same), and the trousers fine. Around midnight, I left the former wrapped in a towel and the latter hanging, and went to bed to dream about seahorses.

15th November 2025: The Côte d’Azur {France & Monaco, November 2025}

Posted on 20 February 2026 by JBinnacle

D****e was leaving Paris about an hour earlier than myself, so I decided to tag along to her station and then backtrack to mine (hey, it was extra friend-time). I’m not good at going back to sleep after waking up, anyway. Thus, we checked out of the hotel together, and I rode with her, then changed platforms towards Paris Gare de Lyon to take my long-distance train. The ride across France was six hours, but it was very cheap, and not much longer than I would take flying from home to my destination.

The current iteration of the Paris Gare de Lyon station was erected following designs of Marius Toudoire around 1900, so it was ready for the World Fair. It features a clock tower and an inner ironwork structure combined with decorative details typical of the Belle Époque design. The station was bustling even early in the morning – I arrived before 7:00 for my 8:21 departure. My ticket said that I would have to leave through hall 3, but there was an announcement from hall 1, where I waited.

Inner platform of Gare de Lyon station.

Since the previous day I had been tired and had not thought to buy food for the day, I had to pay the price of travel-hub lunch. I got myself some cookies, a Coke and a sandwich – chicken in traditional sauce. I also decided to start a Christmas ornament collection, and got myself a shiny Paris bauble. Access to the train opened ten to fifteen minutes before departure, and it was a bit chaotic. My seat was in the low 500s, and for some reason you could not go from one carriage to another (or at least from my carriage to another?) so I’m happy I got the right door on the first try. The train left on time, at 8:21 sharp, and I slept for the first couple of hours. Around 11:00 I was hungry, so I decided to pull out my sandwich… which ended up being “tandoori sauce”, not “traditional sauce”. Take that, caffeine-deprived brain. For a second, I considered not eating it, fearing it would upset my stomach. However, I was hungry enough that I did not really care, and it was not too spicy. I had another nap afterwards again, and before I knew it I had arrived at the Gare de Nice-Ville station in Nice, in the south-east of France, the area known as the Côte d’Azur (Azure Coast) or French Riviera.

Gare de Nice station from outside.

The first hominids may have roamed the area as far as 400,000 years ago. However, the city was founded around the 350 BCE by settlers of Greek origin, naming it after Nike, goddess of victory. There was a nearby Gallic-then-Roman settlement, Cemenelum, which was eventually absorbed by the growing Nice. During many years throughout history, it could be considered that the region was part of Italy in one way or another. In 1860, the territory was given to France, though not all the Niçoises were happy about that. The Italy sympathisers were repressed without much success.

After the annexation to France and the modernisation of the railway network, Nice became popular amongst the English aristocracy, who enjoyed spending winter there. Holiday-makers included Queen Victoria, for whom a full hotel was built, and her son Edward VII. This would eventually lead to the city’s economy boom during the second half of the 20^th century, after it was liberated from the WWII occupation.

In 2021, Unesco recognised the uniqueness of Nice declaring it World Heritage as Nice, Winter Resort Town of the Riviera, with emphasis on the winter part. The development of winter resorts was different from the summer ones, creating layer upon layer of new structures. The so-called Belle Époque architecture became popular, but all in all, the layout of the city is quite complex, due to both history (grand hotels near Roman ruins) and geography (beaches and cliffs).

I headed out to the hotel, which was very near the station, dropped off my stuff and went on exploring. The weather was great, so I could forego one of my layers, even. I was starting to understand the “mild winter” reputation. I first headed down the Avenue Jean Médecin, the main commercial artery of the town, until I reached the promenade.

On the way, I stopped at the basilica-church Basilique Notre-Dame de l’Assomption, a Neo Gothic building designed by Charles Lenormand and erected in the 1860s, after the city was incorporated to France, as gothic was (is?) considered a “very French style” (thanks, Viollet-Le-Duc) and more “French architecture” was desired in the city. The building was not open, so I continued down the avenue until I reached the large Place Masséna, the main square of the city. It is surrounded by red buildings of Italian architecture, and a fountain called Fontaine du Soleil, the fountain of the sun, representing the Greek god Apollo.

Neo-gothic basilica.

Place Masena with Italian-architecture building and a monumental fountain.

After crossing the Esplanade Georges Pompidou and leaving behind an ugly monument thing Neuf lignes obliques, I found myself at the famous Nice promenade and the Mediterranean Sea. In front of me, a line of private and public beaches made of rounded boulders. On my right, the Promenade des anglais (the Walkway of the English), and on my left the Quai des États-Unis (United States Quay). I turned left, but I could not prevent getting distracted by the beaches. Leaving behind the opera house Opéra de Nice, where nothing was on, I spent some time sitting by the ocean before I continued my way.

Etats-Unis quai and the beach.

Waves on a pebble-and-stone beach.

I diverted a little back into the old town to visit the cathedral Cathédrale Sainte-Réparate de Nice – Cathedral of Saint Reparata. Construction started in 1650 in the Baroque style, and it went on for centuries until it was declared complete in 1949. The building has one bell tower and ten lateral chapels. It enshrines the relics of Saint Reparata, which arrived in Nice in 1690.

Catholic cathedral of Nice, a Baroque building.

After wandering Old Nice for a bit, I started the climb up the historic park Colline du Château, where the old Nice castle and cathedral stood. Today it offers panoramic views, ruins, playgrounds and… cemeteries for some reason. There is a “free” lift, but someone stood at the entrance, looking very much like they were charging a fee. I wanted to climb up the stairs on foot for the views anyway. Though it was before 16:00, the sky was already in sunset mode.

Sunset over the sea.

The ascent was not difficult, three or four flights of stairs before I reached the small building that tops the tower Tour Bellanda, the first viewpoint. The structure was originally a medieval defensive structure, but it was destroyed and rebuilt as a place to enjoy the views. I continued on, through the hill / park / historical site. There are several viewpoints towards both sides of the city, along with historical ruins, mosaic decorations, fountains, even the aforementioned cemeteries… All in all I had a lot of fun exploring.

Views of Nice - roofs, coast and ocean.

Collage of the Chateau de Nice: ruins, a waterfall and an octopus-shaped collage.

It had become dark by the time I left the parks, and I somehow ended up re-entering the city down some historical stairs which landed me right into the Medieval quarter again. After going back to the beach for some more wave sounds, I undid my path towards the hotel, taking the exact same route.

Medieval Nice at night, with the cathedral tower at the end.

Waves on a pebble beach at sunset.

There was a bookshop on the way, and I really wanted to stop and buy a book I knew was out that weekend, but honestly? D****e had brought so many presents for me that it would not have fit into the backpack… What I did buy was dinner and breakfast for the following day at the supermarket in front of the hotel – read: coffee and a sandwich. Oh, and a smoothie because it looked awesome.

I spent the last couple of hours of the evening in the hotel, watching bad creature films on YouTube before I went to bed.

13th November 2025: Notre Dame, twice {France & Monaco, November 2025}

Posted on 7 February 2026 by JBinnacle

I left the house a little earlier than 6:30, and I reached the parking lot at 7:50, though the theory is a 38-minute drive – the joys of mid-week rush-hour traffic. But I made it, and it was only a few minutes’ wait for the shuttle-bus, so I got to the terminal pretty quickly after that. Security was smooth, boarding went well, and I got to snooze on my 9:45 plane. Pretty good jump, all things considered. We landed at Charles de Gaulle airport a few minutes early, and I was at the train station relatively fast. It was a short walk away, and it looked familiar – I had done it to get to my first-night hotel for the Saint Seiya Symphonic Adventure Weekend. I needed to buy a Navigo transport card too, on top of the price of the ticket, but after wrestling the machine, I just took the RER, and was downtown Paris around 13:00. I stepped out of the underground stop right in front of Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris.

Notre-Dame (Our Lady) is the Catholic cathedral of Paris. It was founded in 1163, and its construction spanned about a century. It was repeatedly modified afterwards, with some reconstruction. The building is considered one of the most important examples of the French Gothic architecture, including innovations such as the flying buttresses, rib vault, and the rose window above the gate.

The cathedral was damaged during the French Revolution (1789 – 1799), and converted into a secular “temple of reason” – the Cult of Reason tried to take over Christianity during the period. In 1831, Victor Hugo’s novel The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (original title: Notre-Dame de Paris) was published, and it sparked renewed interest in the building. Around this time, architect Eugène Viollet-le-Duc was promoting gothic as the purest form of architecture, so he took up the refurbishing of the cathedral. He had a vision of restoration which implied “doing what the Medieval Builders would do with modern technology”, an approach that has earned contempt with time. He placed a spire on the roof of the cathedral, despite the original having been lost centuries before.

This spire was later destroyed during a fire in 2019. While the cause of the blaze has not been disclosed, flames ravaged the structure during 15 hours, destroying most of the wooden parts of the cathedral, and damaging the upper walls. The fire broke out around 18:20, and due to problems or mistakes, the firefighting brigade was not notified until almost 19:00. Paris firefighters had trained extensively to prevent a disaster in the building, but the old wood had been burning for 40 minutes when they arrived. Most of the extinction work was carried out within the walls of the building itself – I clearly remember that there were fears that a tower would collapse on the brigade.

Fortunately, the stone structure of the ceiling and walls withstood the blaze, and the building did not cave in. The cathedral holds relics important to Christianity, including the purported Crown of Thrones, and those were taken out for safekeeping. Furthermore, a number of artworks had been removed because there was restoration going on. When I was in the area in February 2020, just before the Covid lockdowns, I was shocked that the site still reeked of smoke.

Though the Catholic church as exclusive and perpetual right to use the building, Notre-Dame belongs to the French Government. It was declared historical monument in 1862, and it has been part of the Unesco Heritage Site Paris, Banks of the Seine since 1991. All these characteristics protected it from “daring” post-fire projects such as modernist windows or alternative spires. The first phase of reconstruction were consolidation projects, to make sure the water had not damaged the stone, building scaffolds which have not been completely taken down yet. Then the debris was taken out, and finally rebuilding work would start in 2021. Though some experts predicted decades of reconstruction, the cathedral safely opened for Advent in 2024, though there are still works going on.

Despite having a timed ticket for peace of mind, I did not need it. There were barriers to optimise a queue, but I only had to walk through. I went to show my backpack to the security guards, and they were extremely nice and laid-back. When I said I was coming from the airport, they waved me through after a quick visual inspection.

Exterior of Notre Dame.

My feeling when I got inside was “woah, white”. The walls were treated with a special solution that not only removed the soot, also did away with centuries’ worth of patina. The building was packed, so it was hard to wander around and enjoy, but Notre-Dame is one of my favourite pieces of architecture, and I loved being able to walk inside once more. Nevertheless, I preferred the old, greyish interior. To collaborate with the cathedral’s maintenance – or so I tell myself – I bought a commemorative coin. Then I decided I needed the second one (do keep score, this whole thing with the coins was to become a pattern in this trip).

Interior of Notre Dame.

I could see people working on the second floor behind the altar, it was a bit surreal. After I had walked the inside, I went around the building to check out the construction, then moved on along the Seine towards another of my favourite places in Paris, the Gallery of Palaeontology and Comparative Anatomy, Galerie de Paléontologie et d’Anatomie comparée, part of the French National Museum of Natural History, Muséum national d’Histoire naturelle. The gallery is going to be “closed for refurbishing”, which I fear will make it lose its charm, so I really had to visit this time around.

The French National Museum of Natural History was established in 1793. However, the project that would eventually lead to this gallery did not start until the Gallery of Zoology had been inaugurated, in 1889. The building was designed by architect Ferdinand Dutert, with two floors and three levels, alongside a few balconies. It was erected between 1893 and 1898, when it was inaugurated. The structure is stupidly impressive and beautiful – the outside is made of brick and the interior has mainly metal and wood. Most of the second floor is actually a mezzanine, which originally held the collection of anthropology, and now the plant fossils. The first floor holds the palaeontology specimens, and at ground level stands the compared anatomy collection. It is a museum of its time, with that charm that contemporary ones do not hold.

Upon entering, my backpack was thoroughly checked – the guard even made me use my phone to give him light as he went through my stuff before he let me in. I paid my fee and stepped into the ground floor, with its cavalcade of skeletons. As you enter, a human figure greets you, and behind him stand hundreds of mounted skeletons, the Gallery of Comparative Anatomy, following a very specific order – and one day I hope to know enough French to understand. First there are the pinnipeds and land carnivores, then herbivores and after a small separation, the cetacean group. On the cases along the walls, birds and smaller mammals are protected. The the far right corner, there is a small (but creepy) collection of “aberrations”.

Gallery of Paleontology and Comparative Anatomy: model human in front of the skeletons of mammals.

Gallery of Paleontology and Comparative Anatomy: skeletons of modern cetaceans.

The first floor, which is accessed through a stone staircase, holds the Palaeontology Gallery, with casts of the specimen of diplodocus, a T-Rex, allosaurus, a replica of one of the Bernissart iguanodons, allosaurus, pterosaur, sarcosuchus… On the other side of the ward stands an impressive mammoth, known as Le mammoth de Durfort (the Durfort Mammoth). Discovered in 1869, it is one of the largest of its kind (Mammuthus meridionalis) ever assembled. It has been recently restored, too, so it looks rather impressive. To its side stands the only authentic skeleton of the only woolly mammoth (Mammuthus primigenius) preserved outside Russia.

Gallery of Paleontology and Comparative Anatomy: second floor looking at the dinosaurs and the gallery.

There is also a skeleton of a Cynthiacetus peruvianus, a toothed whale, one of the oldest cetaceans ever discovered. This creature lived around 37 million years ago, in the Late Eocene. The whole gallery is fascinating, if also a bit unsettling, especially the ground floor. I could’ve stayed there for hours, but my friend D****e’s plane had landed a little early and I had promised to meet her at the station.

Gallery of Paleontology and Comparative Anatomy: skeletons of toothed whale, giant sloth and early quadrupedal mammals.

I then ran into a problem in the underground. It turns out that you cannot put a ticket in a Navigo pass that you have used for the airport (at least on the same day), so I had to purchase yet another pass! We managed to meet and headed to the hotel, where we only got one room card because it was strictly not taking it out. They were very upset with me for not speaking French – I can speak a bit of it, and I read it pretty well when it’s simple (so no detailed anatomy explanations) and I’ve got time, but I can’t understand much beyond the super-basics to save my life.

D****e suggested going out for a walk, and we headed off. The street where Le Bataclan was closed off as there was a remembrance ceremony for the victims of the terrorist attacks. We then headed further towards Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris (yes, again. No, I did not complain). We were shocked about the number of police officers that were around, but later we learnt that there was another ceremony at the nearby town hall, which was lit in the colours of the French flag, like the Palais de la Cité opposite Notre-Dame. There was again no queue to enter the cathedral, and the building was open late, so we took another tour inside, as it was artificially lit. On top it being Thursday, there was a mass, maybe for the victims of the attack too. The night felt pretty heavy, to be honest.

Notre Dame cathedral, outside and inside, at dusk.

Paris town hall at night with the French flag projected on the façade.

We walked a bit further, strolling along the Seine. We passed by the church Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois on our way to take silly pictures with the Louvre Pyramid Pyramide du Louvre, the polemic skylight entrance designed by architect I. M. Pei and installed in 1989. Back then, it was incredibly controversial, especially due to how it clashed with the French Renaissance style of the square and buildings around it. I personally think the structure is ugly, but it has been there for most of my life, I can’t remember the Louvre without it.

Paris and the Seine riverbank at night.

Louvre Pyramid at night.

We then headed back towards the hotel area. We walked back by the memorial service at the town hall, they had launched drones up to the sky. For dinner, I had found a fun place called Stellar which reminded me of the rock band Starset, and booked it. I figured that if she was too jet-lagged, we could always cancel, but that way we had a secured spot. Stellar is managed by the group Ephemera, which creates “immersive restaurants”, and this particular place is “set in space”. The light is low, there are planets and stars hanging from the ceiling, and the solar system slowly slides around you in giant screens. It was really cool, and they were happy to help us in English.

Drones in the Paris night sky to commemorte the 13 November 2015 attacks.

Stellar makes a point of telling you where their dishes, recipes and ingredients come from. We chose three items to share: Truffle baked Camembert (from France), Galactic houmous (from the Middle East, but with a Mediterranean twist – olives), and Shallot flank steak (medium-rare, also from France, though the actual meat was Irish) with fries. The houmous was a bit too heavy, but everything was delicious. The decoration was amazing too, and we had a great time as planets and moons floated around us. Once you book, you have a table for 75 minutes, and they were so efficient that it did not even feel short – we were waiting for food for a very short time. We forewent desserts because we were full – even if I had somehow managed to skip lunch. That was not a great idea… I think I’ll try to chase a couple more of the immersive restaurants if / when I come back to Paris.

Food at Stellar in Paris.

We headed back to the hotel for an early night, though I did not sleep that much, if at all, and the night was very short.

13th – 17th November 2025: City breaks in France & Monaco {France & Monaco, November 2025}

Posted on 31 January 2026 by JBinnacle

When back in May 2025, Hyde announced his [Inside] Live 2025 World Tour with several stops in Europe, I wished that I could feel the excitement that used to take over before the pandemic. But truth be told, both Japan and JRockers have made a bunch of questionable decisions as of late. It fell kind of flat, to the point I even considered not going. Hyde himself has said and done a few things I can’t agree with, and I did not know if I wanted to give him money. I was in Malta when the ticket sales started, and I decided something – if the concert was not sold out when I came back, I would go to the show in Paris, France (and see a friend or two, hopefully).

I found tickets upon my return, even VIP options. Though apparently there were a lot of issues with the upgrades, I was able to purchase a VIP package without a hiccup. Not that it had many perks – early entry, priority merch shopping, and soundcheck. However, French fans are hardcore, and I thought being a VIP gave me more leeway to find a safe spot in the venue.

Once that was taken care for, I started organising the trip. The concert was on a Friday in November, a month when I have usually finished work season, so I could take off for a few days. I fumbled with dates a little, and – just for kicks and giggles – I looked for things to do outside Paris. I found an insanely cheap train ticket for Nice, and it turned out that flying round trip to Paris was about the same price as flying to Paris, then taking this train, and flying back from Nice. Furthermore, I found a Nice hotel at a great price.

You might wonder about the sudden Nice idea. Nice was not the goal here (though I ended up enjoying it more than expected), Monaco was. Since I was a little child, there is one place I’ve always wanted to visit, but the stars never aligned for it – the Oceanographic Museum of Monaco. This time around, everything seemed to be fitting in flawlessly. I know I cannot afford to stay in Monaco, but Nice is about 20 minutes away using public transport.

I locked planes and trains. I found a hotel near the Paris venue to share with a friend, booked tickets for the Oceanographic Museum, bought a small Nice and Monaco guidebook, and turned on about a hundred alarms to remember to book free tickets for Notre Dame (three days before in May, two when I actually got down to it in November). It kind of looked like a trip like any other.

France & Monaco, November 2025

It was not.. There is something else I feel I need to address beforehand. Hyde’s concert was in the venue called Le Bataclan on the 14^th of November. Ten years prior, on the 13^th November 2015, 90 people died there.

During 2015, France suffered a number of terror attacks, linked – by self-claim – to the Islamic State, or IS. Thriving between 2013 and 2017, IS was designated as a terrorist organisation by the United Nations, as it enforced an extreme version of the Islamic Law and the war against the infidel. They stated they had control over worldwide Muslims, though most of them refused. On the 13^th of November, a terror operation was launched in Paris, ending the lives of 130 innocents and 7 attackers.

Three suicide bombers attacked the stadium Stade de France, though they could not gain access. Another group ran rampart shooting at cafés and customers downtown. Around 22:00, a third cell broke into the Bataclan, shot at the 1500 concergoers, and took the survivors hostage. The attackers claimed to be avenging airstrikes against IS. Police attempted to enter the building twice, and tried to negotiate for 50 minutes, until there was a full-blown charge shortly after midnight.

Most of the victims died in the first few minutes of each attack, but some took their own lives at later dates due to PTSD. On top of the 130 casualties, there were 416 injured, about a hundred in serious condition. The attacks sparked rejection by thousands of people – there were vigils all over the world, social media campaigns spread like wildfire, and monuments were lit with the colour of the French flag. In Paris, a state of emergency was declared, people were urged to stay home, and residents opened their doors to those who became stranded and couldn’t go back to their own places due to lack of public transport. Schools and universities did not open on the 14^th, sports events were cancelled, and the army was deployed in town. Even Disneyland and the Eiffel Tower closed down. On the 15^th, the French Air Force launched its largest operation against IS, carrying out airstrikes in their claimed territories, mostly in Iraq and Syria.

French President François Hollande declared a nationwide state of emergency, which was extended until mid 2016. But then, the Nice attacks happened – around 22:30 on Bastille day (14^th July) 2016, a man drove a truck into crowd celebrating at the promenade, killing 86 people and injuring 458 others. IS also claimed responsibility for the attack, and the state of emergency was extended again until 26^th January 2017.

Thus on this trip, a lot of this was weighing on my mind, especially in Paris, as we were there during the ten-year anniversary. We saw the police officers, the candles and the flowers. People coming and going, people who might have been there that day. People who lost someone.

So thank you, Hyde, for foregoing your act of singing drenched in blood, because that would have been traumatising. On my account, nothing further from my intention than exploiting the pain of so many people, or making it about me, but there is no way I can describe those two days in Paris without referencing the memorials and vigils. I’ll do my best to do it in the most respectful and caring way possible. However, as I look back on the unadulterated joy my inner child felt in the Oceanographic Museum of Monaco, I wish I could return to that actual innocence, and not have to think about how the world can be a scary place sometimes…

Before the trip I did try not to read up much on the attacks and remind myself of what I had heard a decade before. My plane was scheduled to land in Paris Charles de Gaulle around noon, so I hoped to be downtown around 13:30. Though the RER is only about 45 minutes, the last time I landed there, we had to wait 40 minutes for buses to get to the terminal. Since people had been complaining about the queues at Notre Dame, I booked a free entry ticket for 14:15. I actually was up at midnight two days before to secure the entrance spot (and one the following day for emergencies).

I also purchased my Oceanographic Museum ticket in Monte-Carlo, and tried to find out how to book at the Casino, though whenever I tried, I ended up at the luxury items page. Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved a tour on a Ferrari through Monte-Carlo, or – even if I have no idea about car racing – a ride on the circuit. But I don’t have the budget for that, even in the lowest low season. Oh, and I bought a raincoat because the weather app forecast rain with a 95% chance on Saturday, and 100% on Sunday…

Thus, here are my adventures in Paris, Nice and Monaco in November 2025.

2nd November 2025: Chasing autumn (Guadalajara & Yebes, Spain)

Posted on 24 January 2026 by JBinnacle

I tend to judge the advance of autumn from the tree in front of my windows, but I’m starting to suspect it’s an early adopter. Mid-October it was completely gold, and when I left the house, about one third of its leaves had fallen and another third was completely brown. I thought I might get lucky with the forest Bosque de Valdenazar, and see it in its acclaimed fall colours (Spoiler: I didn’t). There had been a recent press release about the restoration and upcoming reopening of the nearby Poblado de Villaflores, so I decided to go check both out, telling myself that it was the last visit to the oak forest this year. Let’s see if I keep it up (Spoiler: I did).

I got on the road mid-afternoon. I reached the entrance / detour / clearing where you drop off the car to Poblado de Villaflores, which technically belongs to the city of Guadalajara, around 14:00. The village was designed by architect Ricardo Velázquez Bosco in the 19^th century, and though called a village, it is one of the few agricultural colonies ever built in Spain. The colonies were production units etected on fertile soils, usually designed to be self-sustaining. It’s debatable whether the actual place is located on fertile soil, but rumour has it that the Duchess of Sevillano, an important noblewoman and owner of the land, was more concerned with the actual construction, in order to have something to pay her workers for.

The village has a large farmhouse, several small building blocks, a chapel, and the most recognisable building – a dovecote. All structures were built combining limestone and brick. After the duchess died, the village became abandoned and almost forgotten, and it changed hands several times. Local politicians announced their intention to rehabilitate it in 2002. Nothing happened, even when the area was declared Important Cultural Property (BIC) in 2015. In 2016, the clock tower that crowned the façade of the main house collapsed. An emergency restoration project was finally approved in 2022, with an investment of over two million euro, but there was no serious work on the site until 2023.

I walked through a small oak tree forest and the cow path Cañada Real de Las Matas, and soon I found myself within the village limits. Of course, all the buildings were fenced off, but the restoration looks really good! The last couple of times I visited, everything was ruined and overgrown. It’s still overgrown, but the clock tower has been rebuilt (though the shield that was recovered from the collapse has not been replaced), doors at the houses have been installed, and the chapel completely re-erected. The buildings look clean and stable.

Farming house in brick and mortar, with a belltower at the centre.

Construction finished about a year ago, and the security warnings still look pretty new, but the restoration information sign has already been vandalised. There is no informational signage yet, and I fear the whole thing will end up all derelict again – nobody really knows what to do with the village. It would be such a pity, the whole thing is an interesting unit, though I am not sure what can be done with it. Maybe yet another perpetually-closed interpretation centre… Seriously though, with all the urban orchards boom and rural depopulation, along with the cow paths nearby, something related to actual agriculture or livestock would be fun. Or homing pigeons! I mean, the dovecote is there for a reason, right?

Buildings in Villafloes, in brick and mortar, by Ricardo Velazquez Bosco.

Afterwards, I crossed the road to explore the not-so-small Portuguese oak (Quercus faginea) forest along the cow path. The trail also goes above the main road, and it’s not accessible by car. It felt like a very nice place to explore in spring, though I can’t tell how many cows one would run into these days (and I’m okay with no more encounters of the moo kind). I wandered around for a bit, then headed back towards the car.

The cow path, still in summer colours.

There was still a serious lack of autumn colours, but that was over when I reached Ciudad Valdeluz itself, a neighbourhood of Yebes. The local park Parque de la Paz y los Derechos Humanos did have trees that had turned gold, brown and red. There was also a pond full of fish and waterfowl, particularly a couple of very opinionated geese who quacked their disapproval that I was not carrying any snacks for them – the pond had until recently been quarantined due to avian flu, but the sanitary cordon had been taken down now.

Lake in the public park.

Geese and ducks. One of the geese is honking and almost launching itself at the camera.

I continued on towards the Bosque de Valdenazar, mainly composed of Portuguese oaks (Quercus faginea), holly oaks (Quercus ilex) and a few riverbank species. The only animals I’ve ever seen are red squirrels (Sciurus vulgaris), but I’ve spotted some deer and boar tracks. The Portuguese oaks actually seem to just be a continuation of the part that I had seen on the other side of the road, along the cow path. It strengthened my idea that I need to explore the Cañada Real de Las Matas better. Unlike that area, the little forest was packed, including couples taking romantic pictures and families with young kids. The weather was nice, so there were quite a few people having a picnic. The colours were slightly more golden than the previous time, but not much. Since it was a Sunday and there were people around, there was no chance to catch a glimpse of any wildlife, so after taking the standard walk, route Ruta SPG-24, I left, hoping not to catch much of a traffic jam on my way back to the city.

The Valdenazar forest in autumn, seen from the viewpoint, halfway through turning gold

16th October 2025: Ruta del Agua (Patones, Spain)

Posted on 17 January 2026 by JBinnacle

This day trip happened because of a fortune cookie, really. A couple of days prior, I had gone to the supermarket and found they already had fortune cookies, which is scary because they usually only have them around Christmastime. But I like them, so I bought a pack. When I came back from Alcalá de Henares on the 15^th, I opened one. It told me to take a relaxing break to recharge. I don’t really do relaxing, so I decided to take a hike instead. Two day trips in a row? Why not? The weather was being uncharacteristically mild, but it was autumn after all. The landscape should look pretty, and the weather could turn any day now. Furthrmore, I had a project starting the following week, so I decided to tackle what would probably be the last hike of the season.

When back in August I decided that I was tired of waiting for people to come hike to the gullies Cárcavas de Mingo Negro and just headed there, I discovered there is another route along the other side of the river Río Lozoya. This route is maintained by the public company that manages water supply in the Community of Madrid, and by extension the dam, Canal de Isabel II.

The main reason I decided upon this route was the fact that I did not need to plan anything. Coordinates to the parking spot were right on my Sat-Nav and the route has its own app, with its map, GPS location and videos you can watch at every stop. It offers two options , the short and the long routes. Ironically, the time for both is almost the same: the long circular route takes around four hours, and the short one only takes a couple of hours… but it is linear, and then you have to return. I tried to reason with myself that I’d do the short route and when I reached the end, I would decide whether I would turn back (on known terrain) or venture through the circular hike. I also know that I would need to be very tired in order not to explore the complete route.

I waited for sunrise before I left the house, and I reached the parking lot around 9:30, earlier than I thought I would. I changed into my hiking shoes and set off. The dam Presa del Pontón de La Oliva, where the route starts, belongs to the municipality of Patones. It was originally designed to gather drinking water from the river Río Lozoya, and built between 1851 and 1856, though it failed shortly after, as water seeped around and underneath the structure.

After Madrid was made the capital of Spain (as early as 1561), it grew in size and population, and in 1848 the government started a project to increase the water supply to the city, which until then had been just covered by public fountains. The physical canal that would carry the water from the river Río Lozoya was named after the then-queen Isabella II (Isabel II) – Canal de Isabel II. After the failure of the Presa del Pontón de La Oliva dam due to percolation, a new one (Navarejos) was built in 1860, and a reservoir (El Villar) created further upstream in 1882.

The Canal de Isabel II project expanded throughout the 19^th and 20^th centuries. In 1977, the entity became a public business. It was then weirdly semi-privatised. Since 1995, its main stakeholder is the actual Community of Madrid, so besides drinking water, it is in charge of residual water treatment and “improvement and protection of rivers”. It manages 13 reservoirs which hold almost 950 million square metres and 78 access points to underground water.

The hiking route Ruta del Agua is part of the wider outreach and cultural plan of the company. It runs along the Río Lozoya river bank, and then back along the service paths and some of the water management buildings. The app is ridiculously easy to use, it is actually a map that pings your location so you know where in the path you are. There are specific points with videos which explain details about the flora, fauna and geology, nifty ARs, and a friendly voice congratulating you on your achievements aka reaching the predetermined spots.

I started at the dam, and there were two surveyors there. I let myself be noticed, but apparently they were not paying attention and I startled them. I asked if it was all right for me to proceed, and they said I would do so under my own responsibility. As if… there was anything else. The first bit of the route runs parallel to the river on the dam structures, and you see the stream underneath. From the path, I checked for cattle since the last time I was there I saw grazing cows. Being free range and all, they might end up in my way. However, most importantly, I wanted to make sure I was not in their way – cows are amongst the deadliest animals in the world, no point in bothering them unnecessarily.

Walkway alongside the vertical rock wall.

Once I left the man-made bit behind and stepped onto the actual dirt track, I was standing between the two vertical walls that create the valley, the porous limestone that allowed water to seep through it, making the dam project fail. A little upstream from this area, geology changes, and black slates compose the walls and soils. This metamorphic rock is not permeable, so it is great to hold the river course.

The Lozoya valley

This, as well as the high purity of the water that streams down Río Lozoya, was the reason to choose the area for Madrid’s drinking water. Long before that, it influenced the landscape, creating an uncharacteristic riverbank forest, more typical of the north than the centre of Spain. Where there should be shrubs and bushes, trees grow, particularly ash trees.

I admit that during this part of the hike I went off track twice. Both times I used animal trails though, and tried not to disturb anything. The path was well maintained except for a small landslide which had taken down a few metres. I was slightly annoyed that I could not manage any photographs of birds, especially the very-common Eurasian crag martin (Ptyonoprogne rupestris, a rock-dwelling bird). I did spot some blue blurs which I want to think were kingfishers, but were probably Eurasian blue tits (Cyanistes caeruleus).

The Lozoya river

The cows I’d seen last time were on the other side of the river, or so I thought. As I turned on the path, I came eye to eye with one of them, just a few metres away. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds, neither sure of what to do. I stepped to the side to clear the path so she could do whatever she wanted. Since I was not in a hurry I thought I could wait for her to go on her way rather than walking past. She grazed for a few more minutes, then went to meet her friends. I guess it was a close encounter of the moo kind.

Free range cows grazing

The path alongside the Lozoya, covered in golden fallen leaves.

Free range cow right in the middle of the path, staring at the camera.

I continued walking and found the enclosure where the cows are kept when not roaming free. I’ve only seen a handful of them both times, but it was big enough for a decently-sized herd. The cows are there – I think – more for historical / sentimental reasons than actual farming. The area used to be criss-crossed by cow paths so the cattle moved around during the year, chasing better pastures. Today, these cows live here all year round, and they get extra hay when they need it.

The Lozoya river

After I had reached the enclosures, I walked onto a wider trail, one fitted for cars. This was about half point, and I’d been walking for about an hour and a half. I had no idea whether actual vehicles would be coming by, so I stuck to the left. The trail went slightly upwards, but it was not hard at all. I was on the slate rock now, and flora was bushy due to deforestation. I was hoping for some pretty autumn colours, but I did not get many of those, unfortunately.

At some point I reached a sign reading “working bees, please take detour”, which placed me in the right position for my best wildlife photography (which was still rather bad, I need lots of practise) of the day – a leaping roe deer (Capreolus capreolus). After the detour, I started coming across other hikers, amongst them a group of deaf people whom I remembered to greet in sign language. I felt proud of myself for that.

The Lozoya valleu from above, including the dam.

The last leg of the hike runs through tall grass and drinking water structures, including aqueducts, pipes and deposits. The water still comes from the river Río Lozoya’s reservoir Embalse del Atazar. This last kilometre or so goes down the hill again, and I got to see gliding vultures and the gullies from afar.

Water channeling pipes

The Lozoya valley hiking track with the gullies in the background.

As the route is circular, towards the end I reached the start point. I had seen the small ruined hermit church Ermita de la Virgen de la Oliva. From the original path it just looked like a ruined hut, but from this perspective, I saw that it was actually an interesting building. It is one of the oldest of its kind in the area – it was erected around the 12^th century, in a mix of Romanesque and Mudejar styles, using brick and mortar. Though it is ruined now, it is still an noticeable sight.

Ruined hermit church in the middle of the field.

Afterwards, I just headed back towards the parking lot. I took three hours to hike the circular route – 8 km, 360 metres up and down, and quite a bunch of photographs. I will come back to the area again, I think. I want to see the village, a nearby wind mill, and the large reservoir nearby, El Atazar. But I guess it’ll have to wait till next hiking season…

15th October 2025: The Antiqvarivm at Complvtvm (Alcalá de Henares, Spain)

Posted on 10 January 2026 by JBinnacle

Though October is usually my holiday month and I can go on long trips (such as Türkiye in 2024), this year I came across an unexpected project. That means extra money, but less time, and even though I had a blast in Loarre and Zaragoza, it was not really a holiday. I decided to take a day trip before the weather turned and work took over. I mulled over several ideas, and in the end I came down with two – basically an urban day trip or rural day trip, and in the end, I decided to go for the urban trip. A while back (longer than I thought), I visited Complutum, the archaeological remains of the Roman town which stood underneath what today is Alcalá de Henares. That time, one of the main buildings was closed off due to archaeological works, but it was now open. Furthermore, the city has recently opened a new museum. These factors pushed me to go there in the end. It helped that I needed to do some shopping.

The Romans first established provinces in Hispania around the 200 BCE, after the second Punic War. In the year 19 BCE, the first Roman Emperor, Augustus, formally added the Iberian Peninsula to the Empire. Despite some strife, Spain remained part of the Roman Empire until the latter collapsed in the 5^th century CE. There’s a lot that Spaniards owe to the Romans, including a good road system, aqueducts and waterways, and lots of mosaics, a good number of them in the MARPA.

The city of Complutum was founded in the 1^st century CE, and greatly expanded through the 3^rd century. At the turn of the 2^nd century, during the Christian persecution, two children were killed and are now considered martyrs. Unlike other sites, the city was never really abandoned, just gave way to newer civilisations and it was built over. During the 19^th century, the archaeological sites were pillaged, and between 1970 and 1974 a lot of the remains were destroyed to build new dwellings. The archaeological site received protection from the 1985 Heritage Law, and further recognition as Cultural Asset (BIC) in 1992.

I did not feel like driving in the chaotic Alcalá de Henares traffic, especially now that they’re having construction along the main avenues, so I parked the car a bit away and walked – this is something I do when I go to the centre. The weather was nice so the 40 minutes did not feel long. I visited the three main spots: the larger archaeological site Ciudad Romana de Complutum, the new museum Antiquarium and, since I was not crazily far, the house Casa de Hippolytus.

I first headed off towards the Antiquarium, the “new” museum. I call it new because it has opened in 2025, though the building had been erected over a decade earlier at the very least. It is a large space which hosts some of the elements recovered in recent excavations – though due to the general pillage of the site in earlier centuries and all the losses due to modern construction, it is not as rich as it should be in its own right. There are two key elements in the museum – room F of the House of Griffins, and the mosaic of the Winning Chariot Racer.

The House of Griffins, Casa de Los Grifos, is considered the best example of Roman mural painting in Spain. It was a large domus of 17 rooms at least. It was built in the 1st century CE, but it burnt and collapsed in a fire at the beginning of the 3^rd century. Outside of Pompeii, it’s probably one of the best preserved houses I’ve ever seen, even if it is in two places. The room moved to the Antiquarium names the house. Amongst other mythological representation, the entrance is guarded by two griffins, animals with the head of an eagle and the body of a lion, facing each other.

(Collage) Casa de los Grifos - Roman chamber painted in yellow and black. The upper part of the collage shows the two griffin that name the house facing each other.

The other key exhibit is the mosaic El Auriga Victorioso, which was found in an outskirts villa where Romans bred horses. The museum has woven a whole story around the mosaic, to the point that you could actually believe that everything they tell you about the hypothetical character is based on facts instead of just speculation.

Roman Mosaic of an auriga, missing a chunk. The art depicts the auriga and four horses.

Outside the building there is a fountain Fuente del Juncal, part of the water distribution system of the city, channelling water from the nearby river Río Henares. It was heavily restored in the 19^th century, so there is no way to know how it looked originally.

Old fountain with a small pond in front

After the museum, I headed to the actual city to see the rest of the House of Griffins in situ, in the Ciudad Romana de Complutum Roman city. The vermilion walls which still stand were probably painted with cinnabar from Almadén. However, it was difficult to see from afar what parts were original and what had been restored. Other spaces that can be seen throughout the city are the foundations of a dwelling block, the forum and the therms. Two spaces require a lot of imagination – a piece of wall is supposed to be where the child martyrs Justus and Pastor were killed, and the restored auguraculum, where the oracles worked.

Casa de los Grifos in situ - a red chamber with painted columns

Ruins of the Roman City of Complutum

The last time I visited Complutum, the Antiquarium had not opened and the House of Griffins was closed due to excavation works there. I did visit the other house Casa de Hippolytus, which was completely accessible. However, since I was nearby, I decided to get there again. They have a very cool mosaic with Mediterranean fishery themes, including a moray eel, an octopus, a dolphin and a very-accurate lobster. Interestingly enough, Hippolytus was not the owner of the house, but the artist who signed this mosaic.

Fish mosaic, Casa de Hyppolitus

I headed back towards the shopping centre where I had left the car and went into a The Good Burger there, because I am very partial to their Cheese Lovers hamburger (and their soda refill policy). They had a menu option so I decided to go with the chips – I had the choice between chips with salt and chips with salt (and that’s not my typo). The burger in question is garnished with American cheese, goat cheese, Gorgonzola cheese, poached onion and honey-and-mustard sauce. Lots and lots of cheese, for real.

Actual cheese burger - a burger with a lot (and I mean a lot) of cheese, and chips.

I did not do much afterwards. I bought a few items I needed and headed to the car to drive home.

3rd & 4th October 2025: Wicked Madrid (Spain)

Posted on 27 December 2025 by JBinnacle

I am not a big fan of musicals – not because of the genre, but because in general the stories don’t seem to appeal to me. However, I like Wicked. Just before the first instalment of the movie duology was released, it was announced that the musical was getting a Spanish version. I was on the fence as to whether buy tickets or not, because I have often come across horrible translations into Spanish. After a lot of pondering, I decided to get an opening-day ticket, which I purchased in late November 2024. If in the end I backed up from attending, I could always give it to someone else, as it was sure to be a full house. Thus, I got a spot for Wicked: El Musical in Nuevo Teatro Alcalá in Madrid. However, once the film was released and I got to read the subtitles – I’m a visual person, I can’t ignore subtitles no matter how much I try – I became a bit more apprehensive.

In March 2025, I received an email advertising the option to get a VIP upgrade, Experiencia Premium Wicked, which included early entry, the booklet, a guided tour of the theatre, and what was de-facto dinner in the VIP lounge (which had its own private toilets). It was convenient, so I purchased it. Since I had originally bought the ticket on presale, some kind of discount was applied to it. I can’t be sure how much due to the anything-but-transparent Spanish ticket pricing. The nice seat on row 13 had a face value of 84.90 €, there was a fee of 6.79 € and a discount of 17.98 €, yielding to a final price of 74.71 € for the seat. The Premium upgrade was 29.90 €, value for money for the convenience only. Thus in total, I paid 104.61 €, without even being sure I was going to attend – I think my nibling was praying I would back out in the end and gave them the tickets…

I was not completely sure what to do with myself that day. I got a hotel because the 21:00 session would wrap up late, especially on opening day. The theatre Nuevo Teatro Alcalá was not in a convenient point to drive to. Trains would not be running any more when I reached any station, but the underground would. The only affordable but private room I found was 20 minutes away on said underground, but a big city would still have reasonably-full trains around midnight on a Friday in what is climatologically late-summer. The hotel was relatively close to the largest cemetery in Madrid, Cementerio de La Almudena, which reportedly holds some masterpieces of funerary architecture. I thought that it being October, it might be an appropriate visit, following a cultural itinerary provided.

On the day of, I set towards Madrid so I could reach the hotel a bit around check-in time, at 15:00. I dropped my luggage and set off towards the graveyard. Cementerio de La Almudena is the largest cemetery in Western Europe. It opened in 1884, though it was officially inaugurated in 1925. There were several architects involved in the design, but the current appearance is due to Francisco García Nava, who substituted previous styles with different Modernisme trends. Looking from above, the cemetery is designed as an adorned Greek cross, a design that eventually yielded to the creation of a secondary civil cemetery across the street.

I had wanted to visit for a while, but once there, I found Cementerio de La Almudena oppressive. Though there are green areas, it had nothing on the nature feeling northern Europe cemeteries give off. The niche walls felt overcrowded and cold, and the paved paths seemed designed just for vehicles and not people. I mean, the cemetery is big enough that it has its own bus stops inside, but there was something off about it. It was not a Victorian Garden, I guess. Since I was not enjoying myself, I decided to cut the visit short. I left after an hour, and headed towards the Central District.

La Almudena graveyard, with some neobyzantine decoration and traditional cross-decorated graves

When I reached my underground stop, I saw there was a matcha bar nearby, but upon reaching it, there was long a queue outside – it turns out that it belongs to a TikTok influencer – and I decided to just go to Starbucks instead. I had a vanilla drink sitting at a park, then headed out to one of the few buildings representative of Modernisme in Madrid, the manor Palacio de Longoria. It was running an exhibition on the history of Spanish comedy cinema. I am not a fan, but exhibitions are the only way to visit the manor. The building was designed by José Grases Riera and built in 1902. It features a central staircase with a colourful skylight which is always cordoned off, but it is incredibly beautiful.

Longoria Palace, a Modernisme building with a stunning skylight with a red stair in a sun and a blue stela. It is over a staircase with an intrincate railing.

My next stop was the national library Biblioteca Nacional de España for an exhibition I wanted to see in July, but it was not running. It turns out that the temperature control in the room had broken down, and the exhibits were removed for safety. The exhibition El papiro de Ezequiel. La historia del códice P967 (The Ezekiel Papyrus. History of Codex 967) displays part of the oldest surviving document preserved in the National Library of Spain, and discusses its history. The document is a Greek translation of some of the books of the Bible, copied on papyrus probably in the 3rd century CE. It was discovered in the necropolis of Meir (Egypt), probably in the 19th century, and sold by the page to different institutions and collectors around the world between 1930 and 1950. Its excellent conservation is probably due to it being sealed in a vase until it was dug up.

The Spanish National Library is depositary of several sheets, which were originally bought by private collector Pénélope Photiadès. Upone her death, her collection of around 350 papyri, now called Papyri Matritensis, was bequeathed to the cultural organisation Fundación Pastor de Estudios Clásicos. As for the rest of the original codex, 200 out of 236 pages are accounted for in different places around the world. The pages in deposit in Madrid contain the oldest version of Ezekiel’s prophecies

The Book of Ezequiel is part of the Hebrew Bible [Tanakh, תַּנַ״ךְ] and the Christian Old Testament. Ezequiel was an Israelite priest, considered one of the 46 prophets to Israel, who lived around the 600 BCE. His prophecies or visions revolve about the fall of Jerusalem and its eventual restoration. In-between, there are prophecies against other nations or rulers who had wronged the Israelites.

Regardless of the importance of their contents for the Abrahamic religions, it was really cool to see something that old. Especially considering that all those centuries ago, someone thought the writing was important enough to have it preserved and protected for the future. The exhibition is held in a round room, with photographies of all the known pages and their location. At the moment, there are five collections – Cologne, Princeton, Dublin, Madrid and Barcelona.

The exhibition displayed five sheets mounted over mirrors so both sides could be seen. Alongside, there are other translations of the Bible, and a small display on how to write on papyrus. The whole collection was displayed in a circular room, so it felt really immersive. It was really cool.

Ezequiel papyrus - two pieces of papyrus with ancient writing on it

The weather was nice and I still had time, so I headed out to the park Parque del Retiro. This large park in the centre of Madrid originates in a Royal possession in the 15th century, and it opened to the public in 1767 under the reign of Charles III (Carlos III). Today there are several buildings remaining, alongside the royal gardens, now the large green area. There are ponds, fountains, sculptures and extremely old trees – which end up being a potential hazard when it’s too hot, too cold or too windy. This yields to quite the controversy when the park closes during summer due to the risk of collapsing branches. Parque del Retiro is considered a historical garden and part of the Unesco Heritage Site Paseo del Prado and Buen Retiro, a landscape of Arts and Sciences.

I finally headed off towards the nearby theatre Nuevo Teatro Alcalá. I ended up joining a loose group of people waiting for the theatre to open, and I got shoved away by a group coming out from a taxi. Later, one of the ladies would claim that she was there before anyone else – everyone who had seen them pushing me knew she was lying, but obviously her group needed to go in first. Ironically, though they made it to the hall first, I ended up reaching the theatre and the VIP lounge way before them. The irony.

Teatro Nuevo Alcalá with the promo of Wicked for the musical.

Upon entrance to the hall, I received my VIP lanyard and booklet. I am not well-versed in Spanish musical theatre actors, but I’m told the cast is really popular. First, we were shown inside the hall, where we had an introduction to the building and the play. Wicked is the musical adaptation of the eponymous book by Gregory Maguire (1995). The novel is in turn based on the world created by L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900). While the original book is aimed to children – I read somewhere that it was conceived as the first “US-based fairytale”, later adaptations would take a turn towards more mature audiences.

In The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, a normal child from Kansas, Dorothy (with her little dog too), ends up in the magical world of Oz after being flown away by a tornado. There she partners up with a Cowardly Lion, a Tin Woodman and a Brainless Scarecrow. Together they travel to meet the eponymous Wizard, who promises to help them if they kill the Wicked Witch of the West.

The book has been both praised and reviled throughout its history. While the original story gives no room to think that the Wicked Witch is anything but gratuitously evil, the very way the protagonist party is just sent to kill her may sound… strange. It did to me when I was young and read the story for the first time. Other versions just have the Wizard tell the party to bring him the Witch’s broom.

It might have also been like that for Maguire, whose novel focuses on the evil witch, whom he names Elphaba. In the novel, Elphaba is ostracised and radicalises as she grows up, which leads to her fall into evil. In the musical, she is not really evil, but the circumstances around her life and powerful people’s manipulations make her a scapegoat. She chooses her own path rather than either give in or become a victim.

The original musical features music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz and book by Winnie Holzman. It first opened on Broadway (after a San Francisco try-out) in 2003 – and it has run since then, except during the Covid pandemics. In 2005, it went on tour in the US, staying on different cities for literally hundreds of performances. The London production opened in the Apollo Victoria Theatre in 2006 – I have seen that one twice, in 2018 and 2022. There have been two German productions (2007 – 2011 and 2021 – 2022). There have also been runs in Australia, New Zealand, Japan, South Korea and Brazil. Between 2013 and 2015, the first Spanish adaptation was staged in Mexico City, though I cannot be sure the translation is the same as the Mexican one. The Spain version is considered a “non-replica production” as the setting is different. For starters, there is no dragon hanging above the stage and no map of Oz on the curtain.

Wicked stage, surrounded by a circle of runes and a stylised Z in the middle

We did not hear any of this at the small explanation, but we learnt that they have 140 pairs of shoes. Then, we could go up the stage to get our picture taken with the giant Z on the curtain. I was amongst the first to get up there, so I also was lead to the VIP room quite early – remember the lady from before? I beat her every time, I did not even try, but it amused the hell out of me to realise it. To be honest, I had chosen the VIP experience not only because I’m a snob, but because it included what could be counted as dinner – cheese, ham and breadsticks with a drink before the play. And also the private bathroom, which was great. Ten minutes before curtain the waiters started telling us, along with taking orders for the drink during the break.

VIP package at Teatro Nuevo Alcalá - cheese, ham, breadsticks, soda, a commemorative grass, the program, and the menu.

I was at my seat at 20:55, and the theatre was not full yet. The play started a little late, and I was a bit apprehensive, to be honest, because as mentioned before Spain has a less than stellar record with translations, but adaptors David Serrano and Alejandro Serrano have done a general good job. Main singers included Cristina Picos as Elphaba; Cristina Llorente as Glinda (that must have been confusing during rehearsals); Guadalupe Lancho as Madame Morrible, Javier Ibarz as the Wizard and Xabier Nogales as Fiyero. The latter was, in my totally-non-expert opinion, the weakest performance. When trying to sing with both the witches, his voice was barely audible, and he just did not have the… charm nor the presence. There is more to Fiyero’s character than choosing a cute actor, I think. There is one line that defines Fiyero in Dancing through life, which hints that there is more to him than the deeply shallow character he plays. After babbling about being brainless and shallow, when the “Ozdust ballroom” is mentioned, he sings that in the end “dust is what we come to”.

The play was well carried by the main characters, despite a couple of wardrobe malfunctions with Glinda’s dress and Chistery’s wings. The translations of the songs and the jokes were mostly on point. An exception was “magic wands, are they pointless?” – that one either completely flew over the translators’ heads, or they tried to localise it – and failed. The lyrics were well-chosen, carrying as much parallel in form and meaning as the originals. Unfortunately, the song that suffered the most was Defying Gravity, which just… can’t be easily done. It was decent though. In general, I’d give the effort an 80%.

The main cast of the Spanish Wicked musical greeting after opening day

During the break, I returned to the VIP lounge to skip the bathroom lines, and have a snack (popcorn) and my second drink. I have to say that the VIP experience is much more value for money than the London one, even if it catered to way more people – maybe because it was opening day. After the event was over, I made it to the nearby underground station and… the trains were crowded. I’ve seen fewer people on the platforms on a random weekend morning. Maybe in the future, I can drive closer to Madrid and park somewhere with an underground station so I won’t need to book a hotel.

However, staying over had a few advantages. When I woke up in the morning, I headed towards a cosy café (as cosy as a franchise can be), Santa Gloria, to order a “glorious latte with vanilla” whipped cream and cinnamon, and a salmon-on-avocado toast, which was delicious. Afterwards, I took the underground to meet up with some family members (amongst them my very-disappointed nibling). Their house is actually quite near the Museo del Aire y del Espacio, Museum of Aeronautics and Astronautics and we headed there to spend the morning.

The Museum of Aeronautics and Astronautics is a space where the Spanish Air Force preserves historical aircraft. It is located in the neighbourhood of Cuatro Vientos (Four Winds), close to the military air base. Since it was established in 1975, the site has expanded its collection to 200 aircraft. There are seven hangars full of stuff and almost 70,000 square metres of exhibition. Along with all the actual preserved items, there are reproductions of important planes in history, models, engines, uniforms… I know next to nothing about the history of aeronautics, but it was really cool to see all the machinery and even go inside a couple of planes. There were even a few items from space exploration.

We were there from around 11:00 until closing time, 14:00, and it was barely enough to have a quick look at everything. There are guides who show you around, and it might be interesting to take a visit with one of them in the future.

Several aircraft at the Cuatro Vientos - helicopters and military planes, along with a historical biplane.

I had seen there was a big shopping centre nearby, but we got lost and then caught in a traffic jam, so we ended up having a very late lunch before everyone headed home for the day. Oh, but the mall had a Lego store where I could get stamps on my passport. When the salesperson asked me how many I wanted, he was somewhat surprised that I said I wanted all of them…

21st September 2025: Alarcos on the way back {Road Trip & Almadén, September 2025}

Posted on 20 December 2025 by JBinnacle

The lady in Almadén had recommended a pretty hermit-church-castle place in the nearby village of Chillón, but when I reached there, it turned out to be closed and expecting a bike race, so if I stayed… well, I would have to stay till the race was over. I left as fast as I could, so I was not able to see the church Ermita Virgen del Castillo and the Bronze-Age paintings nearby. I just stopped for a quick picture of the mining park Parque Minero de Almadén.

A general view of the town of Almadén. It shows that it is located on a hilltop. The main structures seen are the mining complex on the left (a grey mass on top of a black gorge) and the castle at the very top.

I stopped for fuel, then went onto the road. It took a couple of hours until I reached the village of Alarcos. Nearby stands the archaeological site Parque Arqueológico de Alarcos, which displays three historical periods – there are remains of an Iberian town, a ruined castle, and a Reconquista battlefield. The Iberian town was built around the 6th century BCE, located all over the hill. There are remains of a neighbourhood, a sanctuary, and further away, a necropolis.

Remains of house blocks in the Iberian village - foundations built in rock.

Remains of the Iberian sactuary with the Medieval wall in the background.

During the Middle Ages, there was a project to build a town and a castle. The town would have been protected by a wall, and the castle would have stood at the highest point. However, Alfonso VIII decided to fight a battle against the Almohad Caliphate there before the castle was finished. The battle of Alarcos happened in 1195, and the Christians lost miserably. The castle was then turned into an Almohad town until the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa recovered the whole area in 1212. However, nobody wanted to live in the town any more, so eventually its population would be moved to “The Royal Villa”, later the Royal Town – Ciudad Real, the current capital of the region.

Alarcos Battlefield with the sign that positions the troops.

Ruins - more like just the foundations, actually - of the 11th century Medieval castle. It would have been huge, perched atop a hill, but the most one sees is the intention of a tower, and it's not even the keep.

There is also a small hermit church, but that was locked away behind a fence. The castle is extremely derelict, though some of the Moorish houses can be guessed on the blueprint. Any archaeological findings have been taken to the museum in Ciudad Real – which I still have to visit, but timing was not on my side today. Fortunately, that is doable on public transport – if I ever decide to trust Spanish long-distance trains again.

On my way out, the nice person at reception gave me a bag of goodies – a booklet about the site, some brochures, a magnet and a Medieval music CD. She recommended my trying to reach a hermit church on the other side of the motorway to find the interpretation centre about the prehistoric volcanos in the area, but that is for another, focused trip.

I just hit the road to get home. There was an accident on the way and the subsequent traffic jam added an hour to the drive. The last 40 minutes or so, I felt very tired, so even if I had wanted to have lunch somewhere, I also had the feeling that if I stopped, it would be harder to keep driving. I made it home around 15:30 and had a very late lunch.

I consider the trip was a success. I saw the Mine, which is something I have been wanting for years. Food in Almadén was horrible, and maybe future road trips should be broken with a night in-between, so lessons were learnt. More supermarkets, more overnight stops. But I only had a long weekend, so I made the most of it. And splurged on a mercury vial for my mineral collection.

20th September 2025: The Mercury Mine in Almadén {Road Trip & Almadén, September 2025}

Posted on 13 December 2025 by JBinnacle

My lodging in Almadén included breakfast, so I had a coffee and a toast – better than dinner the previous night, but this time there was the hotel lady working the bar. Afterwards, I just grabbed my things and redid half of my tour from the previous night, and re-visit all the spots inscribed as World Heritage Heritage of Mercury. Almadén and Idrija.

The former mining school, the first one created in Spain, Antigua Escuela de Ingeniería de Minas was still closed – it is not open to visitors due to its poor conservation state. It is a Baroque building erected in the 1780s, with a sober façade and wooden interior with basements and semi-basements to deal with the steep street outside, the whole building designed around a master staircase.

I climbed up towards the castle Castillo de Retamar. Historically, the Romans were the first to intensively exploit the mines, as they used cinnabar for pigments. Later, the Moors started distilling mercury, which they used for decoration. There are testimonies of fountains of mercury running in Al-Andalus – let’s face it, quicksilver is a fascinating thing. As the Moors wanted to protect their dominion over the mine – and the whole territory, including the water sources – they erected the castle in the 12th century. The building was later reinforced by the Order of Calatrava, but today there are only a few remains: the brick foundations of what could have been the keep, topped with a 14th-century bell tower.

I finally headed out towards the mining complex Parque Minero de Almadén. When the mine closed down in 2003, it had been the largest producer of mercury in the world throughout the current era – it is calculated that one third of the mercury used in the world comes from Almadén. The catch? Several of them, actually. First of all, mercury is toxic. Second, the exploitation of the mine was less than stellar – at a point in history, digging in the mine was a punishment for capital crimes, considered worse than being sent to row in the navy, with workers being little more than slaves. Third, the mine is surrounded by underground water reservoirs that percolated slowly into the tunnels, which reach 700 metres deep, threatening to inundate them. If breaking down rock was hard, so was carrying the mineral, along with bags of never-ending water, up and out. Since the mines closed, the water has flooded most of the 19 under-levels of the mine, rising up until the third one.

With the mine closed, life in Almadén dwindled down. The area opened to visitors in 2008. When the Unesco Heritage Declaration came in 2012, it breathed a bit of a new air into the town, turning it into a tourist destination, but lack of management makes it, in the end, barely worth a day’s visit. Visits to the mine are only guaranteed at the weekends, when the museum located in the university is closed down. Reservation of activities is confusing, and unless you’re a whole group there is no way to book a complete visit. I had booked the guided visit to the mine at 10:30 in the morning and a visit to the museums in the afternoon. I was not sure that I could do both before Spanish lunch time, but figured out I would be able to talk my way into the museums early if both things could be combined in one go. It was actually the cashier’s idea to have me do so, even better. One of the museums was closed and there was no warning about it anywhere but Google Maps, which feels a bit like cheating.

The main entrance to the mining complex Parque Minero de Almadén is locked down. There is a side building with an open door and a sign reading “we don’t have any information about tourist visits”, which leads to the Visitors’ Centre. That was confusing. As I came in, there was a large group who had not booked in advance because they were afraid they’d feel claustrophobic, and now they had no tickets. The cashier managed to fit them into the afternoon visit. I talked to him about my bookings and he told me to go to the museums after my mine visit, and to wander around while the rest of the group came together.

The lift that reaches inside the mine (modern lift in old encasing)

Of course, there was a family with young children absolutely in the wrong mind frame to get into a poorly-lit underground tunnel for a couple of hours. Fortunately, there were two groups organised and I made sure to insert myself into the child-free one. I didn’t want a repeat of the Cueva del Viento, where a bunch of information was lost due to kids being kids. And I understand that kids are kids but… for me it’s hard enough to focus on the information from a guide without the added distractions.

The visit into the mine only goes down to the first floor and an upper sub-gallery, after which you ride out in the “mining train”. Before starting, you need to get your helmet, and some lanterns are dealt out to each group to improve visibility in the tunnels. The rules are simple: distribute the lanterns throughout the group, keep light pointed at the floor. Apparently, those pointers are too hard to follow – my group had three lights together in the middle of the group, pointed upwards all the time. Good thing phones have torches now.

The descent to the mine is done through a modern-times lift installed in a former shaft Pozo de San Teodoro, down 50 metres to the gallery. It did not feel claustrophobic to me, and surprisingly, I was more impressed about knowing about the water creeping up than the rock above my head. The visit took about two hours and a half. Along the walk we saw areas that were worked on from the 17th to the 19th centuries, along some of the machinery that came into play in the 20th.

Inside the Almadén mine - corridors and mining galleries and a well to extract the water.

Inside the Almadén mine - corridors sustained by brick. In one of the pictures there is a bat flying but you can't see it.

Don’t get me wrong, back in the day mining those tunnels must have been beyond horrible. It is impossible to describe the history of mine without considering the harsh conditions the workers had to endure, especially the prisoners that were all but enslaved there for decades. The most intense exploitation of the mine happened during the age of the Spanish Empire and its expansion to America. Mercury became a key ingredient in the production of gold and silver in the New World.

Inside the Almadén mine - corridors sustained either by brick (newer) or wood (older).

Inside the Almadén mine - corridors and an image of the Virgin Mary.

Throughout the works in the mine, various exploitation strategies were used, digging both horizontally and in angles. We saw different methods and tools, from plain old pickaxes to modern hydraulic hammers, and the room where the mules would work to help extract the cinnabar. We were shown corridors held up by wooden beams – which were discontinued after in the mid 1750s there was a fire that lasted two years – and later brick ones. We saw shafts that had water at the bottom, and in the end we rode a little mining train to come up to street level. The visit ended with a brief lookout and explanation of the furnaces used to purify the mercury.

A piece of cinnabar embedded in the rock within the Almadén mine.

The mining train that used to transport cinnabar and now transports tourists out of the mine.

Rusted distilling equipement, metres high, where mercury was produced from cinnabar when the mine was in operation.

Afterwards, I had my visit to the museums. One of them has an explanation of the mining procedures, the same thing we had heard within the mine itself. The second held the former workshops, which displayed machinery to keep up with the maintenance of all the apparatuses used within the mine. I was the only person who had booked those tickets, so it was a quiet visit. I was also allowed to amble around the outer part of the mining park, seeing all the heavy-duty machines.

I left the mining park and tried to find the historical gates. The entrance to the mines has always been walled off – historically to protect the valuable resources it held. I could see the restored Puerta de Carlos IV. This gate would have taken me to the Mercury Museum, currently closed. There was another gate, but the overgrown vegetation made it impossible to do more than glimpse it.

Mining equipment and buildings on the outer part of the mine in Almadén, including an excavator, the mechanical shop and the classic door, in red brick.

My next step was heading back downtown until I reached the bullfighting ring Plaza de Toros de Almadén. During thirty-month fire of the mine, which started in 1755, the miners had to work on anything, anywhere, to raise some money. One of their ways to get income was converting the communal garden into a bullfighting ring – at least that is one theory. Today, it is considered the second-oldest ring in the world, with the characteristic that the coso (the actual bullring) is not a circle but a hexagon. It is an important national monument and part of the Heritage Site.

Bullfighting ring in Almadén. The sand pit is hexagonal, which is its main characteristic.

In front of the entrance to the bullring stands the Monument to the Miner Monumento al Minero, which takes a new meaning after having visited the mine itself and heard about all the hardships and dangers within its galleries.

And then came the hard job to find a place to grab a bite. I wanted to try a typical dish from a restaurant with a typical name, but they had run out… For real. At least they let me have lunch at the bar… It made me decide to buy something from the local supermarket to have dinner later on. After lunch, I went back to the hotel to wait for 17:00, when the last monument would open.

This was the former hospital Real Hospital de Mineros de San Rafael. It was built between 1755 and 1775 – started during the fire – in order to treat miners who became ill or had an accident in the mine. The most common malady was hydrargyria – mercury poisoning – though of course there were physical accidents, especially loss of fingers after dynamite was introduced.

The visit has three parts of sorts. On the right there is a bit on the history of mining medicine and mercury poisoning. On the left, a very humble display of what is called “the archive” – documentation related to the mine and mining operations. Upstairs, a ward with some archaeological items and an exhibition about how the layman lived outside the mine, with a chilling panel explaining that the work in the mine was considered so dangerous that children would not be allowed to play when there was a relative in the galleries.

Mining hospital - a baroque building with some exhibits inside, amongst them cinnabar, mercury (sealed away) and a wagon

Afterwards, I moved towards the current university, which has been built around and over the former prison Real Cárcel de Forzados, but there was nothing to see from the outside, and the campus was closed as it was a weekend. However, I was on a small hill, so I decided to continue upwards and see if I could get a general view of the mining park. I ended up at a small forest-park, but did not get a great view.

I headed downtown again and I headed towards a tobacco shop I had seen in a small side street. They had souvenirs in the window, so I hoped that they would sell some mercury. Technically, you cannot buy mercury in Europe – both the Mining Park and the Hospital staff had told me so – but this little shop had a little for sale. So yay me, now I officially own some Almadén mercury.

I found the side entrance to the church Iglesia de Santa María de la Estrella, but no other shops open – I wanted to buy some local cheese. Not even the supermarket had anything that I would not find in my local one. I did buy some dinner and snacks though, and a thermally insulated bag because mine is old and is not working that well any more. It helped keep dinner fresh until I reached the hotel and could use the small fridge there. Pity about the cheese though.

Baroque church in Almadén, showing the exterior in and the main altar.

I turned in afterwards to decide what I would do on my way back, and study the routes.

19th September 2025: A knot of roads {Road Trip & Almadén, September 2025}

Posted on 7 December 2025 by JBinnacle

I woke up early – way before the alarm clock went off, so I decided to hit the road. I first topped up the fuel tank at the cheap petrol station near my place. Afterwards, I drove off to the motorway and the morning rush hour. As I was caught in the traffic jam, there was a pretty rainbow in front of me – no pictures, though, for obvious reasons. Traffic dwindled a lot when I left the A2 behind and merged onto M50. From there, I took a couple of hours to reach my first stop, the village of Consuegra. On the mountaintop of the so-called Cerro Calderico, in the outskirts of this ten-thousand inhabitant, stand some the best examples of restored traditional windmills.

During the Middle Ages, the area in central Spain known as La Mancha proved a challenging place for watermills, the dominant technology at the time. The rain regimes cause irregular river flow, with a lot of the currents drying up in summer. As demand for flour grew, windmills were built near but outside towns, on high ground. They provided clean flour, cheap enough to be affordable, without being subjected to draught or flood seasons changing. The windmills lived its golden age from the second half of the 16th century until almost the 20th. Towards the end of the 1800s, most of the cereal crops were exchanged for vines in order to supply wine to France, leading to the decay and progressive abandonment of wind-milling. The Industrial Revolution and the appearance of fossil fuels and electricity finished off whatever little remained in the early 20th century.

However, besides their practical function, there was something else about the La Mancha windmills. They had gone viral centuries before the Internet was a thing. In the year 1605, Miguel de Cervantes – considered the greatest writer in the Spanish language – wrote his masterpiece El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quijote de la Mancha, worldwide known as “Don Quixote”. The novel is amongst the most translated literary works in the world, and tells the tragic story of a minor nobleman, the title character, who goes crazy from reading too many chivalric romances. He decides to leave his home and become an errant knight, having great adventures in his mind, which are more misadventures in real life. He is accompanied by a farmer-turned-squire, Sancho Panza.

During one of his delusions, Don Quixote fights giants with long arms – which the reader knows, from Sancho’s warnings, that are in reality windmills. Of course, the madman is “defeated” by the blades, which shatter his spear on impact. It is one of the most famous passages of the book, even if it is barely a page or two in the eighth chapter. Throughout the novel, which starts “in a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind”, several locations are explicitly mentioned, others are implied, and some have completely imaginary names. Experts have placed this fictional encounter with windmills either in Consuegra or Campo de Criptana – which was not on my route.

Thirteen windmills were built in the 19th century on the Cerro Calderico, and twelve have been restored and turned into tourist attractions – one even works. They stand in a row alongside the ridge and next to the local castle Castillo de la Muela (or Castillo de Consuegra). After all, both castles and windmills need the higher ground to be effective, in a way. The castle already existed in the 13th century, with roots in a 10th century previous fortress.

I parked at the foot of the hill and walked up to see the castle and the windmills. The castle was closed as it was a local holiday, and the fortress is managed by the town hall. I stayed around for an hour or so, walking from one end of the hill to the other. I had a snack as I snooped around, then I moved on.

Consuegra - a line of windmills with a castle in the background

My next stop was the National Park Parque Nacional de las Tablas de Daimiel, a weird place. I call it weird because despite its status as a protected area, it has been on the brink of collapse for the last century or so. The wetlands have been drying out for decades.

The area is the literal last of its kind in Spain, a kind of wetland generated when rivers break their banks in their middle course on flat terrain. In the middle of the de facto Spanish Inner Plateau desert, it is formed by the rivers Guadiana (fresh water) and its tributary, the Cigüela (brackish water), and fed by a number of underwater aquifers. These have been exploited for farming, which seems to be the cause for the dessication. So out of what it should be, there is only one medium-sized pond, Laguna de Navaseca (usually referred to the “permanent pond” Laguna Permanente), where a number of birds, fish and amphibians live either seasonally or all year round. The area was designated a national park in 1973. Later, it received other protections, especially regarding the bird population.

I parked in the allocated space and had a sandwich before I went in. The visitors’ centre was manned by a very disgruntled employee who explained the dessication to me as if I were personally responsible for it. I really felt like apologising. The truth is that the first place I visited was the pier, which has not seen water for at least a decade. I could do two of the three walking routes, but in the end I only did one and a half, as the second I tried was way hot and dry and I gave it up three-quarters in, as there was no water any more.

In the end, I stayed around the main pond Laguna de Navaseca, where wooden walkways have been built. I felt horribly guilty whenever the wood cracked under my feet and I scared the ducks away, but the local guides could be heard from across the whole pond. On the banks, there are bushes of common reed (Phragmites) and rushes (Juncus). The only tree in the area is the tamarix (Tamarix gallica), small and brime-resistant.

In the pond – and flying over it – I found a flock of greater flamingoes (Phoenicopterus roseus) – which are for some reason not listed anywhere that explains the park. I also saw herons, ducks, geese and I swear ibises – the latter are not mentioned either, but my bird identification book suggest a glossy ibis (Plegadis falcinellus). I was hoping that autumn had modulated the temperatures a bit, but it was extremely hot. It was also… stupidly dry for wetlands… That is why I gave up on the second route halfway.

Doñana National Park - view of the main pond, surrounded by low bushes

Doñana National Park - view of the main pond with flying flamingoes

An ibis waddling for food

A flock of flamingoes flying

I went back to the car and drove to a small parking lot at the entrance of the park which allows you to see the watermill. It was closed, and again dry, but it was an interesting structure.

I continued on the road towards the archaeological site Yacimiento Visitable de Calatrava la Vieja in Carrión de Calatrava, which has a very nice and shaded parking area, where I had my second sandwich as I was there 30 minutes before schedule – read: they had not opened yet.

The archaeological site is considered one of the most important of Moorish origin in Spain – a city and a castle from that period, erected on older remains, probably Iberian. Back during the Arab vs Christian wars in Spain, the fortress was right in the middle on the way between Toledo and Córdoba, along with other important commercial routes, so it became a key defence point. It is known that the castle already existed before the 8th century, on the Guadiana riverbank. When it fell to the Christians around 1150, it became the first line of defence, and it was entrusted first to the Knights Templar and then to the Cistercians. It became the birthplace of the first Spanish military order, the Order of Calatrava Órden de Calatrava.

Calatrava castle from the outside - a ruined fortress with a roundish shape, built in clay-coloured rock, with no vegetation whatsoever around it

The castle was built on a plateau, defended by the river itself and the walling structure, which included at least 44 flanking towers. There were four fortified corridors (corachas) that protected access to the water. The entrances to the inner fortress had several turns to make them easier to protect. Between the inner core and the walls stood the medina, the Islamic city, and the alcázar rose as a sort of triangular keep, accessed through a triumphal arch. The inner castle itself is the best-preserved area, having even rebuilt furnaces to make clay. During the Templar times, part of the alcázar was repurposed into a budding church which was never finished. On one of the inside walls there are carved drawings of vessels.

Calatrava castle, collage: The inside of a room with a Templar cape as sole decoration, the inside of a pottery oven, a view of the mdina arched entrance and two inner archways.

As I climbed the walls, clouds had started gathering and the wind had picked up. I decided to get going, trying to outdrive the storm. At first I thought I had been lucky, but about 20 minutes away from Almadén, the skies opened and there was a torrential downpour. I was lucky enough to find a parking spot where I hoped, down the corner from the hotel, and I have an umbrella in the car. A few minutes after parking, the storm stopped though, albeit the rain did nothing to cool down the evening. I checked in, and the hotel lady gave me a map with all the spots that have been inscribed as World Heritage Heritage of Mercury. Almadén and Idrija.

Mercury (chemical symbol Hg) is a native metallic element, the only one which is liquid under normal temperature and pressure conditions. In nature, it is usually found as cinnabar (mercury sulphide, HgS), a bright scarlet mineral. Its formation is linked to volcanic activity and alkaline hot springs (the area of Ciudad Real comprises the extinct volcanic field called Campo de Calatrava, which I drove through, but found no way to stop anywhere to explore). Liquid mercury, also called quicksilver, is extracted from cinnabar by heating it, as sulphur evaporates with heat.

Mercury is toxic to the nervous system, dissolves gold and silver, and has long been associated with “mystical” powers and sites – the first emperor of China was buried in a tomb with rivers of mercury, there is mercury under one of the Teotihuacan pyramids in Mexico, and in the end it carries the name of the Roman God of Messengers and Travellers. It has fascinated humans throughout history.

The name of the five-thousand-inhabitant town, Almadén, comes from the Arabic Al-maʻdin [المعدن], which means “The Mine”. The site was already exploited in times of the Romans – the extracted bright-red cinnabar was used to create vermilion paint for the walls of Pompeii and Complutum. When I was a child, my history book had some information on Almadén, and the accompanying photograph showed someone who had thrown a cannonball into a mercury pool, but the cannonball was floating on it. I have wanted to see the mine since then, even knowing that there was no way I would ever see that one pool any more, due to the legislations that have deemed mercury as “too toxic for anything”.

I went to have a look around town. It was dusk and everything was closed – not that many things would open the next day anyway. I did a small circular walking tour which included the main church Iglesia de Santa María de la Estrella, and down the main street the central square with the town hall Ayuntamiento de Almadén and the church Iglesia de San Juan. I continued on and found the the old mining school Antigua Escuela de Ingeniería de Minas. To the side of the street stands the former castle point Castillo de Retamar, where only a turret remains. Up a little, I reached the third church, Iglesia de San Sebastian and the ruins of the manor house Casa de la Superintendencia.

Almadén Castle - a derelict tower in brick, with a stork nest on top

I undid my path and headed to the other side of town. In a secondary square there is a monument to miners Monumento al Minero, and across the street the bullfighting ring Plaza de Toros de Almadén. My final stop was the former hospital Real Hospital de Mineros de San Rafael. I had dinner at the hotel restaurant, which honestly was a little disappointing.

Almadén: monument to the miner at night; a huge sculpture in metal that represents miners. Two of them have picks and are breaking a rock, two others are pushing a wagon. The miners have helmets with actual lights.

I headed back to the room to have a shower and some rest, and get ready for the following day – and try to digest dinner.

19th – 21st September 2025: Windmills, Mercury and Castles Road trip {Road Trip & Almadén, September 2025}

Posted on 6 December 2025 by JBinnacle

Though work season had started once again, there was a four-day weekend, and I decided to spend three of them on a kind-of road trip. Plane-ticket prices were off the charts even weeks in advance, so I thought that if I had made it to Loarre and Zaragoza, I could just drive an extra 40 minutes and head to Almadén, a place with horrible public transit connections that I have wanted to visit for a long time.

I sketched the itinerary again and again, and due to weather concerns I ended up sticking to the first one I had drafted. The idea was to make a few stops on the way there, one or two on the way back, and spend a whole day in Almadén. I tried to book a “complete” visit to the main attraction in town, the mine, but I was not able to, because they only run it for eight people or more. When I wrote to the Mine to try and understand how that worked, their answer was all caps and felt rude – later I realised it was more of a lack of netiquette understanding. To be fair, it discouraged me a little, and I thought of giving up the whole thing. And honestly, up until the 15th, when the hotel became non-refundable, I was on the line as to whether I really wanted to do it. In the end, of course, I decided to go.

For the first day (Friday), I had drafted a bunch of itinerary options that I planned to decide upon depending on time and tiredness. The only clear thing was that I was to arrive in Almadén in the evening. Saturday would be entirely spent in town, and in the evening I would decided the return day’s stops.

I am always surprised when places that want to live off tourism won’t just… coordinate. Half of the stuff is only open at weekends, and the other half only on schooldays. Most of the restaurants in town were closed and food was pretty much awful in the couple of them I found open. But I saw most of what I wanted to see, so I count the weekend as a success.

19th – 21st September 2025: Road trip & Almadén

5th September 2025: Ara Malikian. Conciertos de la Muralla, Alcalá de Henares (Spain)

Posted on 30 November 2025 by JBinnacle

The “Wall Concerts” Conciertos de La Muralla is a late-summer music festival that takes place in Alcalá de Henares. As far as I have learnt, it has been going on for almost a decade, with “artists of the highest level”. I’ve only heard about a handful of the musicians that have played there, but I’m not much into the Spanish music scene. A while back, I read that violinist Ara Malikian would be making a stop in town as part of his promotional tour Intruso.

When checking for tickets, I found a lonely fifth-row empty seat in the arena, too good not to be bought. The show was to be held in the outdoors area known as Huerta del Obispo, where Alcalá de Henares also carries out its RenFair. Since tickets and seats were numbered, there was no need to queue or be there early. Though the show was outside and I was prepared for chill, it turned out to be just a bit windy so I did not need the extra layers of clothing I had brought with me.

Born in Lebanon to an Armenian family, Ara Malikian started playing violin in early childhood. He was good enough to give his first concert and 12 and be invited to study in Germany at 14. He went on to play with and for the best orchestras in the world. He has published 30 albums, composes, and covers classical and modern pieces.

His stage persona is outlandish, with crazy hair and clothing. He tells stories on stage that are a little real and very embellished with fantastic details, to the point that you’re not even sure if the outrageous titles he’s quoting for the setlist are even the actual ones beyond the covers of famous composers and musicians.

Ara Malikian playing violin

For this gig, Malikian was accompanied by drums, piano, guitar / bass and cello. He played alongside a quartet of Cuban musicians, whom he claims met in Havana 30 years ago. After he received a scholarship to go to Cuba to play a “contemporary piece” he did not prepare, he met these young artists who had not rehearsed either. Together, they decided to improvise while the composer yelled “imposters” and “pigs” at them, thus the piece being now called “Concert of Pigs and Imposters” Concierto para cerdos e impostores. The ensemble comprised Iván “Melon” Lewis on piano, who almost died a couple of times choking on his own laughter due to the bizarre stories that the violinist told; Ivan Ruiz Machado on classical double bass and regular bass; Georvis Pico, specialised on jazz, on drums; and finally Dayán Abad García on guitar.

Ara Malikian playing violin

Thus, Ara Malikian claims such titles as the aforementioned “Concert for Pigs and Imposters” or “Ratboy” (Niño Rata) or “Rhapsody of not doing anything” (Concierto Rapsódico de No Hacer Nada). The first comes with a tale of a quartet of musicians improvising with him on stage in spite of the composer of the piece they were supposed to play hurled insults at them. The second derives from a crazy story about being hired to stand in a bar and not doing anything to create curiosity amongst the patrons.

Ara Malikian playing violin

There were covers of famous composers, both classical – such as variations of Niccolò Paganini’s Caprice No. 24 in A minor – and more modern, like Paco de Lucía’s Zyryab. The concert ended with a beautiful song called Nana Arrugada (Wrinkled Cradle Song). All in all, I enjoyed the concert very much – though I could not find a believable setlist to compare my information anywhere.

Ara Malikian and his support musicians performing

My seat was honestly fantastic, and not even the wind could spoil the sound or the ambience. If any complaints, the fact that people seem not to understand that if they enter the area at 20:00 and drink a huge glass of beer, they are going to need a toilet before the concert is over – making everyone around them stand. Also, a concert might not be the best place for random people to yell political slogans…

Ara Malikian and his support musicians waving at the audience after the concert

I had a good time, and when the show was over, I walked around the city centre to see if there were any monuments lit up. There were some, and the main street was packed with people enjoying the last days of summer. I thought I would get some frozen yoghurt, but there was a queue. Thus, I decided to wait until I got to the ice-cream parlour a bit further up the street. Even a longer queue. And at the last parlour, it was even longer than both of the other two combined.

Façade of the classical University of Alcalá de Henares under a full moon

It became less crowded when I left the pedestrian area, but there were enough people so it did not feel dangerous to walk to the car – despite the town having been on the news due to violence a few times in the few previous weeks.

I was home before midnight, not even extremely tired. Since I had to do some shopping before the concert, I decided not to combine it with any visits or anything. And as there had been no ice-cream for me, I ended up having some home-grown watermelon I had been gifted…