I had no idea where I was, but from the towering spires of a grandiose church, glowing golden in the sun’s last rays, it was obvious that this was no ordinary hamlet in the forest. This was, I was told in almost reverential tones by our guide, Covadonga.
The weather was grim and the limestone cliffs rising up from the river were often shrouded in a grey mist that drained the colour from their slopes, whilst the waters swirled a murky brown. There were sampans on the river… […]
Just as the green valleys and rolling rivers of proud Asturias are little known outside of Spain, the wine produced on verdant Asturian slopes is a secret to many Spanish. Asturias in northern Spain is simply not known for its wine. […]
The lilac grasses in front of us rustled and swayed with just a bit more vigour than if the movement had been caused by a gentle summer’s breeze. It was enough to draw our eyes to a vision that stopped us dead in our tracks and stole the breath from our bodies. […]
Mad, bad and dangerous to know. That’s what I thought about Glasgow growing up ‘doon the water’ in Rothesay. It always felt as though there was an undercurrent of violence simmering just beneath the surface… […]