Adventures in the Algarve: A little Nata

I was around 8 years old sat in a shoddy Nandos down in Bexleyheath, where I semi-grew up, when I tasted my first ever Pastel de Nata. My Dad, always insisting on getting the works when we visited, never dismissed adding a Nata or two to the order. It was a little treat after stuffing our faces with questionable amounts of chicken, pitta bread and bottomless fizzy drinks.

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La Rambla

It’s 9:30 am on a Barceloneta Autumn morning. My boyfriend left the apartment for work over three hours ago, leaving me to awaken slowly while he stumbles around in the half-light of the morning. The curtains are opened slightly giving a quarter view of the rose-gold sunrise over the balcony and onto the Port Vell.

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Finding our Tiffany’s

“It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s, then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name.” – Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

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48 Hours in Amsterdam – Day Three

Read Part One here.

08:00 – A walk in the nether Netherlands

When on a trip, wherever you are, you will always come across the same belly dropping sadness that comes when you zip up your suitcase and give the room a last glance.

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48 Hours in Amsterdam – Day Two

Read Part One here.

08:00 – Morning to you too

I wake up and it’s dark. Not because of the weather, but because I had managed to cover my entire head with the giant duvet we have been blessed with.

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