Taking the Plunge into Adventure

Throughout my life, I have often questioned the motivations behind people embarking on risky adventures such as mountain climbing and forest excursions. These thoughts came rushing back when I found myself invited by my 65-year-old English student to join their mountaineering group for a Via Ferrata experience, an activity involving iron paths on cliff sides. Little did I know that I was stepping into a challenge that would push my limits.

The Thrill and Terror of Heights

As I stood atop the rocks, surrounded by a breathtaking yet intimidating landscape, a wave of fear washed over me. Every movement from one steel bar to the next felt perilous, and looking down intensified my anxiety. It was a moment where the choice to retreat seemed nonexistent; pressing onward became the only option. This harrowing yet exhilarating experience forced me to confront my fears head-on.

The Strength of Experience

What amazed me more than the rugged terrain was my group, comprised mostly of individuals over 60. These seasoned adventurers, who began their escapades two decades ago, demonstrated remarkable agility and stamina. In Spain, where life expectancy is high, I witnessed how this older demographic stays active and engaged, contrasting with the more sedentary lifestyles observed in my home country. Perhaps this emphasis on physical activity and mental challenges contributes to Spain’s impressive longevity ratings.

As we proceeded to climb the mountain, I found myself struggling to keep pace with my elderly companions. Their effortless movements showcased an endurance I aspire to achieve. This experience served as a valuable lesson in resilience and the importance of lifelong fitness—prompting me to commit to a training regimen that will prepare me for future climbing endeavors.

The Allure of France: Nannying in St. Tropez

Ah, France! The land of croissants, romance, and a very confused English-speaking nanny. My first visit was as a newly minted nanny for a fabulously affluent British-Brazilian couple. They whisked me away to the opulent shores of St. Tropez—yes, the same St. Tropez that was tragically in the news after Princess Diana’s passing. But rather than mingling with high society, I was stuck indoors.

Captive in a Mansion

Imagine being in the glitzy French Riviera but working round the clock! I had weekends to roam, but a month of eyeing the beautiful streets, dazzling beaches, and mouthwatering cuisine through the window? Torture! The idea of exploring Monaco and the French Alps while babysitting felt like a cruel joke. When the vacation ended, it was bittersweet farewells and a longing to return.

Freedom at Last in Toulouse

Fast forward to my second trip—this time, I was on my own! I arrived in Toulouse, nearly succumbing to a migraine on the flight. I rolled into my hotel room feeling like death, but woke up fresh, ready for adventure! The vibrant streets called for exploration, and the Victor Hugo market delivered culinary ecstasy. Just a few bonjours and mercis were all I knew, but my heart was speaking French fluently!”

Now, I am equipped to dive into new adventures—French lessons are coming next! So here’s to my escapades: both the tantalizing and the torturous. Who knew being a nanny would lead to such life lessons in the picturesque lands of France?

The most common mistake travelers make isn’t overpacking or missing a flight. It’s eating at the place with the laminated menu and the photos of every dish — the one strategically placed between the landmark and the tour bus stop.

I’ve spent years refining a different approach. It starts at breakfast. Not at your hotel. At the place where the locals eat before work — the one with three tables, no English menu, and a queue that moves fast because everyone knows exactly what they want.

Here’s what I’ve learned: follow the noise, not the Yelp stars. Look for handwritten menus. Sit at the counter. Point at what the person next to you ordered. Say yes to things you can’t pronounce. The food will never be safe — but it will always be real…

Situated in the picturesque region of the Basque Country, Getaria is a quaint town that attracts numerous tourists each year. Although referred to as a “pueblo,” it holds more charm and allure than that title implies. Known for its scenic beauty, Getaria offers a unique blend of nature, history, and culinary excellence.

The Delight of Txakoli

A highlight of visiting this town is experiencing its signature drink – Txakoli. This premium wine, exclusive to the Getaria region, is not just a beverage; it embodies the local culture. Tourists flock to the beach front restaurants to indulge in Txakoli alongside freshly grilled fish sourced from the nearby waters. The perfect marriage of flavors elevates any dining experience in this charming locale.

Traveling Conveniently to Getaria

Despite its popularity, visiting Getaria doesn’t have to strain your wallet. For budget-conscious travelers, the newly introduced monthly Bono card allows exploration across Spain for just 60 euros. Upon reaching San Sebastián, it’s merely a 2-euro bus ride to Getaria. This affordable fare makes it accessible for anyone wishing to indulge in the culinary treats and breathtaking views that Getaria promises.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Getaria is an enchanting destination that should not be overlooked. With its exquisite Txakoli, delicious grilled fish, and affordable transportation, it is a must-visit for anyone traveling in the Basque Country. Whether you are a wine enthusiast or a foodie, Getaria offers a delightful experience that rejuvenates the soul and satisfies the palate.

The Buzz of Automation

When I found out we were visiting a brewing factory in Burgos, Mahou-San Miguel, my imagination ran wild. I pictured a bustling hive of activity, with hundreds of people bustling around, pouring hops and fighting over the last donut in the break room. Spoiler alert: it was nothing like that.

As we strolled into the packaging section, I was left scratching my head and asking, where have all the people gone? Just a handful of humans were present, while the rest of the heavy lifting was done by robots. Yes, you heard me right—machines! It was a scene out of a sci-fi film, featuring shiny machines whizzing about, effortlessly washing dirty and used bottles from the bars, filling bottles and cans with freshly brewed beer, labeling, and finally dispatching for storage and distribution to the consumer.

This brewing experience got me thinking: what happens to all those skilled workers whose jobs are now being done by these clever machines? It seems the future belongs to those who can train, install, and instruct our metallic friends. As automation advances, it’s clear the brewing industry in Spain embraces variety without monopolies. Ther are four major brewers Mahou-San Miguel, Heineken España, Damm and Estrella Galicia and other 279 brewers. In my home country Kenya, i have known of only one brewer dominating the market and producing the lionshare of the alchoholic beverages consumed. But here in Spain, consumers are spoiled for choice, a vital part of the local beer culture. Who needs a single giant brewery when you can have craft beer from every corner?

So here’s to the robots: may they continue to churn out delightful brews while we lay back and enjoy a cold one en la Terraza!

This dude had refered to me as a racist after sliding into my DM on instragram. I was bewildered, given that i had been roaring at a shop attendant about three weeks ago. I was spitting fire, after being racially profiled at a locally owned shop. Well, if you follow my stories, you would be aware that by now, i know some Spanish here and there, to reprimand someone and put them in their place, honestly racism stinks, it is a royal pain, and laboring over it is a ceaseless struggle. Let´s come back to this incident later.

But first, let us go back to this chap that had refered to me as a racist in my own instragram inbox. So on a quite lazy, slow and sunny Saturday morning, i ran into a DM, from a strange profile with no picture. The fellow minces no words and asks if i am single, i interrogate him about his identity, and, he says he is a Russian national living in Monaco..and voila, i lamost jump out of my bed and throw away my phone , to run away. This combination sounds tangy, would taste like the sweet and sour sauce that accompanies your fried rice and chicken order at a Chinese Restaurant. The mix of Monaco and Russia in one sentence ( If you Know You Know). I digress.

You see, the week before, in Kenya, a story had been trending about a Russian goy who had seduced Kenyan women, and went ahead to record their intimate moments without the women´s consent. The vidoes had been doing rounds on the internet. So when this fellow told me that he is Russian, i told him i do not interact with people from that country, and then, followed the word, the word that we people of color abhore, Racist, he asked directly: Are you a Racist? The word fell on me like a block, the words stuned into silence, and the Ruso justified his accusation to an extent i almost felt guilty. Why? Because i reminiscized to about three weeks ago (not in a pleasant way) how i had been racially abused at a shop, and i was enraged, seething, to the point i almost brought the whole shop to a stand still yelling at the shop attendant – Sois racistas!( You are racists) Eso es una discrminacion!(That is discrimination) No volvere a esta tienda nunca! ( I will never come back to buy in this shop).

So how did this appalling scene materialize? In the depths of winter, i had gone to ALE-HOP, in Burgos to purchase a scarf and a winter hat, and upon doing so and paying, i removed the tags on both items, wore them and left . I headed to a restaurant, before making my way back to the house, when, suddenly a young lady came running after me and in a split seconding was standing in front of me, breathing like she had just finished a marathon. She boldy asked me that i show her the receipt of the items i had bought and was now wearing. Apparently, back at the Ale-hop shop, someone had alerted them that i had picked the products from the shop, removed the tag and wore them without paying. Honestly who does that? Can even the most stupid or clueless thief stoop that low? One would be forgiven to think that in this part of the globe, people of the color are considered automatically clueless. I still had the bag they had offered me after the purchase with the receipt nicely tacked inside. I asked the lass, how are you going to compenaste me in the event that your accusation turns out to be wrong? She shrugged and said: well, we would simply apologise to you and the matter would end there. I showed her the receipt and i, being who i am, decided that the matter would not end as simply as she thought, because racial abuse and discrimination must be called out, whichever way. I paced back to that Shop – ALEHOP Burgos and caused a proper scene, i gave the cashier i piece of my mind, because i knew i was on the right and i was being accused wrongly.

This ugly incident had to gradually began to erase from my mind until i saw what went down last week during the Champoins league match between Real Madrid and Benfica, an Argentinan, Prestianni, allegedly racialy abusing Vinicius Junior on the pitch, and i thought; the abusers have become quite courageous, to think that, covering their mouths with a jersey, during a high profile football match, before the glaring lenses of the cameras, in a jam packed stadium, and going ahead to insult a fellow player would make them get away with the abuse. It irkes me, not only the abuse itself, but the nerve that the abusers got. I hope the relevant body investigate this matter properly, and if found guilty, this Chaval is accorded the discplinary measures he derserves. Dismantling Racism is a continous struggle, speaking up and confronting abusers could be a great way to start.

The Joys of Travelling

Travelling is often portrayed as nothing but sunshine and smiles, with wonderous experiences piled high like your suitcase before a trip. You find yourself fantasizing about exotic destinations, new culinary delights, and maybe even a little romance. But hold on, my intrepid adventurer! What happens when that suitcase especially packed with flair goes mysteriously MIA?

As fate would have it, I was blissfully unaware of this misadventure until it decided to crash my party. You see, during our previous weekly Spanish class, we were knee-deep in vocabulary useful for our escapades abroad, including the finer points of dealing with lost luggage. “Me he perdido mi equipaje” (I’ve lost my luggage)—the phrase rolled off my tongue like a seasoned traveler’s, yet I thought, “Nah, not me!” Well, not until my latest escapade, anyway. Spoiler alert: my suitcase and I parted ways.

What did I lose in that hallowed carry-on of mine? My never worn Michael Kors Designer shoes, a collection of toiletries( I still mourn my Avene Face moisturizer that costs an arm and a leg), I returned home empty-handed, mourning the wardrobe that could have seen me through countless embarrassing tourist traps. But, humor me, isn’t it the price we pay for being an avid traveler? Here’s to the glorious chaos that is travel, complete with baggage claim drama!

Few people ever talk about how Hostels can be a life saver for immigrants who sometimes find themselves in the struggle of trying to achieve stability and settle in, especially in Europe. You see in this struggle, there comes a time when everything is so chaotic – no proper documenation, no work permit, no reliable stream of income, exploitation by employers, and a times no accomodation, yes, things are in shumbles that you even lack a roof over your head. The first time i stayed at the 2060 Newton Hostel at the heart of Madirid and a tourist district, was when i had found myself in a similar situation.

I was lost, homeless, depressed, in the middle of the night, in the heat of deep summer. It was during a long weekend(Puente, like the Spanish call it) , and Spain being a world tourist destination, alsmost everyone was here for vacation, all the affordable hostels booked up and full. I had walked around in the middle of the night asking – of course for the affordable ones – but nothing was coming through, only the expensive ones were available. Well, with the help of a good samaritan, i ended up in a quite expensive one, well out of my budget. At this point it didn´t matter to me spending upto the last euro i had in my bank account, i just needed a place to lay my head on.

The next day, this good samaritan boooked me at Newton Hostel for three nights, and that is how i found myself at this warm, lively, welcoming establishment. When i was finally there with my suitcase in tow, the cold water from the shower in the clean and well kempt bathroom took my worries away and made me relax, i felt a relief, i let out a sigh of relief. Honestly, i had been homeless for the past few hours, but Newton Hostel made me feel like i was home. People never narrate sufficiently what an ordeal it is to be homeless, far away from home. Apart from having to deal with intense winters, language barrier and culture shook, you may find yourself homeless anytime as an immigrant, things can quickly shift against you.

The staff at the Newton Hostel reception are very amiable, helpful and multilingual(last one very importnat). They checked me in into a nice, comfortable capsule bed, the rooms are air condtioned to relieve one of Madrid´s 40 degrees summer heat. Fellow guests at the hostel are very enthusiastic and vibrant , i mean there is something about travellers and explorers – they are social, these people know and recognize their tribe, the openness in interacting with people form around the globe, chatt, exchange of food, laugh etc, and the creme de la creme of all this is that the converstions are in Englis!(Anyone who lives in Spain clearly knows the difficulty of finding a community that speaks English, Spaniards love their language, and will rarely attemtpt to talk to a foreigner in a language the foreigner is more comfortable in, they will see you almost bite your tongue trying to converse in Spanish, but will not come to your rescue to speak to you in English, even if they know it).

Anyway, i digress, next are the night activities at the hostel – the bar crawls, the taco parties in Mexican Restaurants, the nights out dancing, honestly this place is just the vibe, it oozes energy and life, The morning coffee and Churos( on the house), gives one a lively start to the day( the establishment boasts of a fully equiped and clean kitchen where guests can prepare their own meals), and to crown it, in the evening, one is free to wind up their day by making their way to the rooftop bar where a variety of drinks are served. I have since stayed at the hostel several times and the colorful experience is constant. As i write this, i am planning a trip to Madrid for work, and my preffered choice of accommodation…your guess is as right as mine! Here, they envision and imagine the end of the world, presumably in the year 2060, but for me my affair with the hostel is far from ending!

So there I was, waiting impatiently for the doorbell to ring, practically bouncing off the walls in eager anticipation. After what felt like an eternity, I rushed to the door to finally complete the arduous process of legalizing and translating my education certificates from English to Spanish. My documents had been at the Kenyan Embassy in Madrid over the festive season, finally after the festive season, they did an excellent job of having them translated from English to Spanish, because Spain´s Ministry of Education does not accept processing the documents in any other language! The legalization of the documents begins at one´s home country at the Ministry of Education, then to Ministry of Foreign Affairs and then finally at the Embassy – in this case, the Spanish Embassy in Kenya. In order for the documents to be accepted in Spain for processing and recognition, the legalization has to be completed at the country´s Ministry of Education, which the Kenyan Embassy in Madrid does on behalf of Kenyans in Spain at an affordable fee of 30 euros.

The Road Ahead: SEPE and Beyond

But hold on. That’s just the starting point if you want Spain to recognize your hard-earned education. Navigating the job market as a foreigner isn’t a walk in the park, and your past may include a comedy of odd jobs. However, nothing—absolutely nothing—can hold you back from pursuing further education or learning the language to integrate!

Enter the Servicio Público de Empleo Estatal (SEPE). This place is like a portal to your dreams. You walk in, and the friendly staff makes you feel as though you’re no longer just a foreigner; you’re a candidate with potential! The top-notch customer service ensures you’re treated with respect as you showcase your skills. What have you studied? What are your languages? It’s surreal!

So, to all the brave foreigners out there: don’t let anyone deceive you into thinking your education is only valid in the country where you studied. Step into your host´s country SEPE confidently, and let your journey toward recognition begin—because you are capable of reaching for the stars!

The Wine Whisperer of Spain

Ah, wine! The nectar of the gods, or at least a delightful trickster that winks at your taste buds from the moment you uncork it. And if we’re talking about the divine sips, Spain’s wine is the true magician in this grand performance. With a flair for turning grapes into liquid gold, Spanish wines have bewitched innumerable palates—including this writer’s.

The Allure of Spanish Regions

Forget kale; in Spain, wine is practically considered a food group! As I gallivant through the sun-kissed grapevines, the Ribera del Duero and La Rioja capture my heart like an exciting telenovela. These regions don’t just produce wine; they craft experiences that your mouth sings about. Each sip of La Rioja – Reserva transforms a chilly Friday evening into a warm embrace after a long week of adulting. With every glass, I’m reminded why wine and fine dining enjoy such a close-knit relationship.

The Fountain of Eternal Whimsy

And oh, how the flavors dance! From robust reds that warm your soul to crisp whites that feel like a summer breeze, Spanish wines welcome themselves into your life with open arms and a glass half-full philosophy. You might argue that Spain has quite possibly won the global wine game. Wouldn’t you agree? So raise your glass, my friends, and toast to the land where wine is more than a beverage; it’s a lifestyle, a party, a celebration of everything delicious!