All in all I covered over 34,000 miles, and seven countries. Please enjoy this 2014 travel summary!

This post was originally published in 2014. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

January: Panama, USA

After saying goodbye to a hellish year in 2013, I greeted 2014 near Panama City, where I was house-sitting. I stayed on through mid-January continuing to discover this country of contrast (See also: Panama: A Wild West), before flying to Hollywood Florida to visit a long-time friend.

For a couple of weeks we had a great time catching up, however I was craving some personal space, so I left to indulge in some alone time in Gulfport Florida.

February: USA

The first week or so of February I explored the very pretty town of Gulfport before hopping over to Santa Rosa Beach (Florida) to stay the rest of the month with another long-time friend.

Santa Rosa Beach is one of the most consistent places I’ve visited in all of my full-time travels (having visited the last three years running), and although the weather was cold, the company of my friends was warm and fun.

March: USA, Canada, Peru

A series of very serendipitous events led me from Florida to Peru in March. But in order to get there, I flew up to Toronto for a few days, not only to say a quick hello to my family and friends, but also to catch a mystery shopping flight to Peru, which saved me 50% on the cost of airfare.

April: Peru

April saw me settling into my digs in Peru and discovering the magic of the Sacred Valley. I started off with a five day trek through the Andes ending up in Machu Picchu.

I also got to know the little town of Pisac where I was living, and explored some of the prevalent spiritual opportunities which included receiving the rites of the Munay Ki.

May: Peru

My exploration of Peru continued through May with more Andean treks including the high Andean lakes of Kinsa Cocha, the ancient agricultural lab (or alien landing pad?) of Moray, and the incredible salt mines of Maras.

I also got a strange email from a reader who wanted to move in with me, and I started to learn about plant medicines in Peru such as San Pedro and Ayahuasca.

June: Peru, Canada

After doing one last three-day trek through the mountains to Lares Hot Springs, and making a quick stop in Lima to overdose on ceviche, I left Peru to enjoy summer in the northern hemisphere. Having been on a permanent mission to avoid winter for the last eight years, I’m accustomed to hopping hemispheres according to season (or sticking close to the equator).

July: Canada, USA

For July and part of August, I based my operations in Toronto while visiting family and friends.

I made a quick trip to the Florida Keys where I discovered the magic of Key West and met all kinds of people who visited the Keys and never left.

On my return to Canada, I spent a couple of weeks with my Mum in the cottage country area of Muskoka; a very special place for me with a lifetime of memories.

August: Canada, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy

In August I decided to “pop” over to Europe (via Istanbul) to visit some friends on the south coast of Spain. Having been to Spain many times, I was least impressed with the Costa del Sol, but I nevertheless appreciated spending time with my friends and exploring new places, including Gibraltar.

I capped off my European adventures with a visit to another friend in Pesaro Italy, where I was treated to amazing local hospitality and culture, and home-cooked food so good that I will never look at Italian food (outside of Italy) the same way again. (See also: Living Like a Local in Italy)

September: Peru

After spending my end-of-August birthday with my family and friends in Canada, I returned to a place that resonated me as a new home: Peru (See also: I’m Going Back to Peru: Here’s Why). After a hectic summer travel itinerary, I spent most of September relaxing and settling back into my Peruvian digs. I did get out of the house a few times though(!), including a trip to the Barratio market in Cusco.

October: Peru

I branched out a little more in October, attending a Peruvian wedding, and also making an attempted climb up mount Pachatusan, which ended very differently – but possibly more rewardingly – than I could possibly have imagined.

October also marked the end of a very long battle with lawyers and insurance companies in the aftermath of a near-fatal accident I suffered in Grenada in February 2013. I lost the battle, but in so doing I won my life back. (See also: Cutting Your Losses: Why I’m Losing, in Order to Win)

November: Peru

In November I continued to do work with the various plant medicines of Peru, I did a beautiful walk from Cusco to the ancient ruins of Huchuy Qosqo, and I kept working hard on becoming fluent in Spanish.

I also started planning a two-month trip to escape the rainy season in Peru (January through March), and although my intention was to visit Australia and New Zealand with a frequent flyer mile ticket, I ended up spending $1700 on absolutely nothing – not even flights. But I got over that pretty quickly, when I realized there were even better travel opportunities around the next corner – which you’ll learn about soon.

December: Peru

I laid relatively low in December, partly because my purse was stolen in Cusco, leaving me without any money (other than what I could borrow from friends, which I limited to necessities only). Although I learned a lot from the incident, it wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it might be, and in fact, I saw more blessings than curses come of it.

December marks eight years since I sold everything I owned in Canada and started my full-time travel adventures, and I spent some time reflecting on this amazing journey that has allowed me to live and travel through over 50 countries. If you’d have asked me 10 years ago where I would be now, my wildest imagination wouldn’t have placed me in the Sacred Valley of Peru with the repertoire of experiences (good, bad, and otherwise) that I now have.

And life continues to change and evolve; with a home base in Peru (at least for now), I’m changing the way I travel and how I work. I have some local focuses here in Peru that are taking more of my time in an incredibly satisfying way; things that I will write about more soon enough, when I find the right words.

Happy Holiday Season, and here’s to an amazing year in 2015!

Other Annual Travel Summaries

2013: 12 Countries and 29,000 miles

2012: 8 Countries and 20,000 miles (video here)

2011: 13 Countries and 73,000 kms

2010: 9 Countries (unknown miles/kms)

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010)

This post 7 Countries and 34,000 Miles: 2014 Travel Summary appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Imagine my surprise when I arrived in Costa del Sol, and had trouble reconciling this place as even being Spain. Let me explain…in pictures.

This post was originally published in 2014. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

The picture above was the view from my terrace (located between Marbella and Estepona), overlooking a pool, palm trees, Spanish-styled condos, and the ocean. On a clear day you can see the rock of Gibraltar and Morocco in the distance. It was a very comfortable place to relax and enjoy the lovely summer heat.

And I’m not the only one who thinks so either.

Costa del Sol

Costa del Sol (which translates to “coast of the sun” is a renowned tourist destination in Spain. Since the 1970’s it has seen a rapid influx of sun-seekers and retirees, mostly from Great Britain (where the sun don’t shine so much).

Incidentally, it also goes by the informal handle “Costa del Crime”, in honour of the number of mobsters and criminals who escape to the area to fly under the radar for a while. While staying there I heard regular references to gangsters; nothing bad – just the mere observation of their presence, as in “look, he’s one of the biggest gangsters in Britain”, similar to “look, there’s a flower indigenous to this area of Spain”.

Puerto Banus

Puerto Banus, in Marbella, is where the pretty people come out to play. You can smell the money dripping off the luxury shopping complex and marina, built in the 1970s by a local mogul. It’s the place to be seen; if you have an expensive car you’ll want to pay the fee to drive into the marina area and cruise very slowly along the strip of designer stores and restaurants, so people can admire your wealth.

It’s also a great place for people-watching – as you can imagine.

Estepona

Estepona is renowned for its beaches, with a microclimate that provides 325 days of sunshine a year. The water is cold, but it doesn’t stop sunbathers from coming out in droves.

Estepona’s town is also very picturesque, very walkable, and very….colour coordinated.

From Estepona beach, you can see the rock of Gibraltar quite clearly, as it’s only a half hour drive away.

Most of Costa del Sol originated as little fishing villages. Although it’s a far cry from little fishing villages now, you can still sniff out the fish, such as these sardines hanging out on racks to dry.

Mijas

Of all the towns I visited along Costa del Sol, I could get into having a little casita in Mijas, nestled in the mountains just up from the coast.

There are actually two parts to Mijas: Mijas Pueblo in the mountains, and the more commercial/industrial Mijas Costa on the coast. (It was Mijas Pueblo that won my heart).

Mijas is also known as “the white village” for its uniform whitewashed look, which is very charming and easy on the eyes.

Habla Español?

Although I enjoyed my time in Costa del Sol (since I was staying with friends), I had trouble reconciling it as Spain. Due to the huge number of expats and tourists from Britain, it felt more like a piece of suburban UK transplanted to a sunny clime and fancied up with architecture of a Spanish flair.

You can’t really get around without a car, enabled by the ridiculously fast-moving motorways that transport you from town to town (and plaza to plaza) along Costa del Sol.

And after a few days there, I eventually gave up entirely in trying to speak Spanish. Everybody speaks English; the expat/retiree/tourist populous don’t even attempt to speak Spanish, and even when I tried to address Spaniards in local establishments in their own language, they replied to me in a tired (almost exasperated) English.

See also: How to Become Fluent in Spanish

Sadly, to me, Costa del Sol appeared to be a culturally (and linguistically) pillaged area of Spain, chosen for its sunshine and warm weather….and little else.

Would I return? I like to keep an open mind, but similar to Gibraltar, it’s not high on my hit-list of places to go back to.

This post Costa del Sol Spain (For Better or Worse), in Pictures appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Passing through customs was as simple as merely slowing my pace while flashing my passport.

To get into the country (by foot or car), you have to walk through the main airport and across their massive runway.

You can circumnavigate this entire country on foot in a day.

It’s not an island, but it almost is. And like so many island nations, there is more to it than meets the eye.

Oh yes, and to be correct, this place isn’t a country – it’s a British Territory. (Just like Hawaii is another US State, Puerto Rico is a territory, and Corsica is really just France. Ask the residents, and I suspect they’ll tell you just how unique they are).

Welcome to Gibraltar.

This article was originally published in 2014, and has since been updated for accuracy of links and formatting.

While staying in the south of Spain, I could see the rock of Gibraltar and the hills of Morocco from my terrace. So, being less than an hour from the border, it was worth a day trip to The Rock to see what it’s all about.

Gibraltar is…interesting. Here’s what I saw, and learned:

Gibraltar is Packed.

Not only was Gibraltar packed with tourists when I visited, but it’s also consistently packed with residents/citizens, who number about 30,000 in this teensy weensy country (territory) – known as one of the most densely packed territories in the world. Thus, most of the population is squished into apartment buildings in varying states of disrepair.

I’m told these apartments aren’t cheap either, so some people (including a friend who I chatted with) live instead in Spain and walk across to Gibraltar to work. She did this in the age of the Spanish paseta, so earning money in Gibraltarian currency (tied to the British Pound), and spending it in paseta-land was a very favourable currency play for her and many others. Even now with the Euro, it’s a favourable exchange for people living in Spain and working in Gibraltar.

Gibraltar’s Currency isn’t British, but it is.

Gibraltar is a “British Overseas Territory”, so although you can use British Pounds currency in Gibraltar, you’ll also find that they have their own currency – the Gibraltar Pound. But don’t get stuck with their currency and think that you can spend it (or even exchange it at some banks) in Britain; Gibraltarian pounds aren’t even recognized by some major British banks.

Gibraltarians Have Their Own Culture and People

“Gibraltarians don’t like to be Spanish, and they don’t like to be British. Their language is a seamless mix of both English and Spanish,” said my friend who used to live there. In fact, this mish-mash of languages is the unique Gibraltarian vernacular, called llanito.

Officially, Gibraltar’s language is English which is taught in schools, but you can immediately see the struggle to maintain their own unique identity – as I’ve seen culturally and linguistically in so many islands I’ve visited, including Corsica, Hawaii, and even New Zealand. (I know, I know – Gibraltar isn’t an island. But it really feels like one).

Gibraltar has a Long and Storied Past

Given Gibraltar’s 1.2 kilometre border shared with Spain, a short swim to Morocco, and under the watchful eye of the Brits as a stronghold, you can tell that Gibraltar has seen its share of cultural, economic, and political drama over hundreds of years.

Gibraltar is a Giant Tax-Free Store

“There’s a lot of history, there’s a lot of culture. But really, Gibraltar is just a massive tax-free shopping centre,” said my host in Spain and tour guide for the day. Indeed the crush of people trolling street after street of perfumeries, liquor and tobacco shops, and electronics stores was downright claustrophobic. It even smelled like an airport duty-free store, with odours of perfume and new leather wafting into the streets.

There’s More than Meets the Eye in Gibraltar

I only spent one day in Gibraltar. I suspect there’s more to this country (territory) than what meets the eye. My friend who lived there spoke fondly of her time in Gibraltar, and of the friendly people (once you get to know them).

Heck, I didn’t even have enough time to stand in line for 3 hours to catch the cable car to the top of the Rock. But that’s part of the problem in itself; it’s just too packed with people (tourists and residents alike) for my liking.

So is Gibraltar a place I’m enthused to return to, perhaps to live there for a while and “crack the code” of the people and culture? To be honest – no. I love island-like nations and the quirky cultural differences that define them, but I don’t think I can manage living somewhere so packed, so shopping-centric, and with a currency as strong as the Pound.

Have you visited Gibraltar? What did you think?

This post Gibraltar: Life on the Rock appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Knowing that I have to leave from another station this evening, I choose to go straight there so I can store my luggage for the day, maybe catch some time in the lounge (such as my Eurail Pass permits), and rest assured that I’m never too far from my ultimate departure point.

Thing is, the second station – the one with international trains departing regularly – is a ghost town. Whether renovations or construction is the culprit, nothing is operational, or even existent. The real hub seems to have been the station I came from; there aren’t any obvious trains returning, I have eight hours to kill, and I don’t have the energy to fight my way back there.

I’m confused, I’m tired, and, well, grr. Things aren’t going smoothly. My worst fears of being sick during the train challenge seem to be coming true, and I’m none too happy about it.

See also: Staying Healthy on the Road – Natural Preventions and Cures

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Turn that Frown Upside Down

After having an inner temper tantrum, I decide the best thing I can do (the only thing, really), is persevere. I find a hostel willing to store my luggage (and by “store” I mean leave it out in the open in the reception area, but beggars can’t be choosers) for a criminal sum of money, and I set off to explore Barcelona.

The real Barcelona.

You know, the one that is devoid of tourists and tourist traps.

This, I discover, is a naive mission that proves harder than it looks, but reveals some interesting insights.

Cruising La Ramblas

I’ve been to Barcelona before, in a former life as a cruise ship passenger (which was also my first time in Europe). I fondly remember strolling La Ramblas and being bewildered by the sensory overload of tapas restaurants, markets, flower stands, artists, and buskers.

This time, walking up La Ramblas, I’m ever-aware of the multiple cruise ships in the harbour and the crush of tourists on all sides. I harbour no ill-will whatsoever towards these cruisers. Rather, in my slightly dizzy state, I’m just looking for a nice place to sit down, have a coffee and a bite to eat, and do some writing.

On La Ramblas, I’m swarmed by people encouraging me to eat at their restaurants, and north-African men selling odd whistles. I had no delusions of finding somewhere “off the beaten path” to eat on La Ramblas itself, but on principal I don’t eat anywhere as a result of an aggressive person pushing a menu in front of my face.

Whereas once I may have found this whole scene charming, I now find it affronting.

I know there are hoardes of tourists here, but are there any locals? Would somebody from Barcelona be caught dead on La Ramblas? Do tourists and locals alike enjoy this fresh chaos, or is it manufactured?

Market Food

I duck off La Ramblas and go into a marketplace selling fresh and prepared foods. I remember this place too, at the time thinking it was “off the beaten path” because it wasn’t precisely on the main drag and because it sold fresh food like meat and fish that tourists wouldn’t buy.

This time, I’m wary.

I stop at a restaurant of sorts (really just a bar around a food stall that small groups of people sit at to order – quite charming really) and listen to the voices. Are the customers here tourists? Are they being ripped off by high prices and low quality food, or is this a good place to catch something to eat myself? People are speaking lots of languages. I don’t know Catalan well enough to recognize it, and I’m sure I hear tones of German, French, Spanish, Italian, and English. It seems to be a hodge-podge. Most certainly there are tourists, but I’d love to know if anybody local would dare to be seen eating here.

I keep wandering around the market, allowing myself to get lost in the dozens of stalls selling fruit, meat, baked goods, fish, sweets, spices, dried goods, and prepared foods. I see things here that no tourist would realistically buy. This gives me hope.

Whoops: As I’m setting up a shot I realize I’m being stalked by somebody I suspect is one of Barcelona’s notorious pickpockets. I’d better keep moving. Whether or not there are locals at this market, I’ve staunchly labeled myself as a tourist with my camera.

What is the Tourist Trail?

I keep walking. What am I looking for, really? What is the right price to pay? What is an “authentic” experience? And how far (literally and figuratively) am I willing to go to get an authentic experience – especially if I’m feeling sick and tired? And if I ever get there, will it even be worthwhile?

I keep walking.

Following my nose towards the water, I find my way to the port and watch yachts sail by and people of all walks of life wandering. I’m sure that a large percentage of these people are tourists, but I’m also pretty sure that the large movie theatre attracts its own share of locals.

Besides which, at this point I’ve ceased to care.

I finally collapse at a restaurant patio on the harbour. There’s a 10% surcharge for sitting here. I grimace as I order a salad and coffee, but am satiated with a good free wifi signal. I settle in for an afternoon of writing, working online, reflecting, taking pictures, watching people, and feeling the gentle warm breeze off the blue waters of the mediterranean no more than 2 metres away. No office could afford a view like this; it’s worth the surcharge.

Maybe being a tourist isn’t so bad after all.

This post Staying off the Tourist Trail (or Not) in Barcelona appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

So what’s a girl to do? Why, stop in the nearest cafe for tapas, of course!

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

I’d have walked by this place a million times had it been sunny, so given the glorious tapas I enjoyed while pouring through maps to determine my train route through Europe, I’m glad it was raining.

Arriving in Granada

I received a warm welcome from Nellie of Wild Junket and her husband Alberto, who hosted me for my three glorious days in southern Spain. We later determined that we’ve known each other online since early 2008 when she lived in Singapore – my, how time flies. What a joy it is to now know them in person and count them as friends.

Our first night was a whirlwind tour of tapas and the charming town of Granada, complete with its steep narrow cobblestone streets, Moroccan tea shops, and the gorgeous Alhambra. (I couldn’t help but perpetually giggle at the thought of being in front of Alhambra, as Alhambra is also a board game I love to play, similar to Carcassonne – a game I’ve played and a place I visited last year when my Mum joined me on a vacation in France.

Mountains of Granada

Imagining southern Spain, somehow I constructed a picture in my mind that was devoid of elevation. So when the train pulled into Granada – which is surrounded by mountains – I was both surprised and pleased, since mountain hiking is one of my favourite activities.

So on my second day in Granada, we went hiking in the Sierra Nevada range (which translates to “snowy range” in English). This leads to my second surprise about Granada, which is that it can get quite chilly here in the winter; so much so that skiing is popular in the Sierra Nevadas.

Flamenco

Although some would say the birthplace of Flamenco in Spain is Seville, Alberto (a Grenada native) got a strange look on his face when I suggested that was the case. I imagine there’s some debate among Spaniards about the true home of Flamenco dancing; a beautiful passionate art that has a life of its own. I would love to try my hand at Flamenco…maybe when I return to Spain (whenever that will be).

Since Flamenco shows are available in “caves” (both touristy and out of the way) throughout and around Granada, and given my love of dancing, it couldn’t be missed.

Siesta Time!

Given the early-ish dinners I had in Sweden (and even Lisbon), the switch to “Spanish time” required an adjustment. Eating before 10pm isn’t commonly done, and it was only on my departure from Spain that I had finally started to relax into this groove, which – of course – includes siestas (afternoon naps).

As we drove through beautifully precarious mountain towns on our way home from our hike (and enroute to a siesta before dinner), I wondered why the towns were deserted. With shutters on all the windows and almost nobody to be seen, it looked like nobody lived there. I surmised that these towns were mainly comprised of holiday homes.

But even populated areas of Granada were quiet and empty in the late afternoon. That’s when I understood the extent to which siestas really are a part of Spanish culture. The window shutters aren’t for storm protection when leaving a place for an extended period of time (as you see with many holiday homes) – they’re to shut the light out for a proper siesta!

I even noticed when we returned home that our own shutters were perpetually half closed, yet still allowing lots of natural light to fill the place. Is a very uninviting look from the outside, but a downright necessity from the inside.

Scavenger Hunt Victory

And lucky for me, I managed to bag another Scavenger Hunt item: A photo of me enjoying dinner in somebody’s home!

Thank you Nellie and Alberto for your wonderful hospitality. Who knows where in the world we’ll meet next!

Onwards from Spain

After leaving Granada, I boarded an overnight train to Barcelona, followed by another overnight train to Zurich, where I’m currently visiting with a friend of the family who I’ve known since childhood.

But alas, this visit will be (too) short, as I must move on to keep up with the Ultimate Train Challenge schedule! After Zurich, I’ll spend the weekend in Prague, then move on to the Ukraine for some Active Ukraine adventures.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. First stop: Zurich!

This post Tapas, Mountains, Flamenco, and Siestas: This is Granada! appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Some of the adventures I had in Spain included the following:

This post was originally published in 2010. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Segovia

Taking a day-trip to Segovia with three Irish people, walking the streets, then sitting down to a fancy lunch that featured Segovia’s signature dish of Cochinillo (roasted suckling pig). As I had the most advanced Spanish language skills out of our lot (which isn’t saying much), I was relegated to figuring out the menu and ordering, which was an adventure unto itself.

Toledo

Taking another day-trip to Toledo (with the same Irish group plus one more). Both trips were made possible with high-speed trains, and Toledo is a large walled-city with mazes of narrow cobblestone streets that we enjoyed getting lost in for hours on end.

Alcala

Staying with a family in Alcala (near Madrid). I met Elena during my first week of volunteering at Valdelavilla, and she immediately invited me to stay with she and her family any time. I warned her that she’s to be careful what she offers, since I’m the sort of person to actually take her up on it, and after reiterating her suggestion, I told her I had a week to kill between volunteer programs and would be on her doorstep!

I had an unfortunate bout of food poisoning to contend with as I was arriving (thou shalt not eat kebabs in Madrid when tired after a long day of sightseeing!), but after that, I enjoyed integrating into “normal” Spanish life, having a chance encounter with an eccentric artist, playing with the three kids, and chatting in “Spanglish” with the whole family.

So with two weeks of volunteering, one week in Alcala, and a few day trips worked into the cracks, my time in Spain flew by all too quickly. I must still see the south of Spain (which apparently has a whole different flavour again), and the 800km hike called the Camino Santiago de Compostella is also high on my list, as it has been for years now.

Random Observations of Spain

Although my visit was short (and most certainly sweet), here are some random observations from my time in Spain:

The streets are filled with energy and vibrancy. Although everybody generally has somewhere to go, nobody is in too much of a hurry. There is a relaxed (balanced) pace to the chaos.

Tapas culture is awesome! You arrive at a tapas bar, order a drink (a glass of wine can cost as little as 1 euro), and you receive a free tapas (appetizer). Enjoy your drink and tapas, then move on to the next bar and repeat. You may want to break up the “monotony” by sitting down at a café in the middle of a plaza for some more sustenance and people-watching. Either way, expect the night to escape you, as this revelry can continue until almost dawn.

Spain has lots (and lots) of smokers. In Canada, smoking is banned in all public places, and is almost banned in the streets. In Spain, however, you can still smoke just about anywhere – inside and out. Be prepared for smoke to waft over from the table next to you in a restaurant, so if you are a devout non-smoker, choose your table carefully. Apparently smoking is being phased out and gradually banned from public places, but this movement isn’t without its share of resistance.

The Gran Via in Madrid is one of the most well-known streets, lined with majestic colonial buildings and being a thriving theatre district. However be warned, as many of the streets leading off Gran Via also are lined with a steady stream prostitutes, milling for prospects at any time of the day or night. Although I didn’t find it cramped my style in any way, many locals warn against staying in the area as they find it unsavoury.

El Parque de Madrid is a beautiful respite from the chaotic streets of central Madrid. Similar to High Park in New York City, it is a massive park with endless paths, water features, ice cream stands, buskers, and beautifully manicured gardens.

I lost hours simply sitting on a bench in front of a beautiful large pond, watching couples row around the pond in boats, taking pictures of passers-by, and listening to a saxophone player pump out songs the likes of Besame Mucho, La Cucaracha, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Yellow Polkadot Bikini, and The Saints Come Marching In.

Spain’s working hours and mealtimes are drastically different from what I’m used to in North America. Although I initially balked at what appeared to be even longer days than in our workaholic culture, I eventually came to realize that there is a much healthier balance to the mix.

Most people don’t eat much (if any) breakfast early in the morning, and instead simply have a coffee. Work starts at 9am, and I believe there is a break around 11am when people will often have a bocadillo (sandwich) and – of course – another coffee.

Lunch is at 2pm, and is generally the biggest meal of the day. People are free to linger over lunch, as the break is around two hours. (The break is intended to incorporate a siesta, but I doubt that many working Spaniards actually sleep during this time).

People return to their offices around 4pm, and work on through to 6pm. Dinner is served somewhere around 9-10pm, and sometimes even later. Even households with children keep to this schedule, which I found to be the most jarring difference, as I remember being in bed and asleep in my childhood before many Spanish children would have even sat down to the dinner table!

However it doesn’t take long to get into the Spanish swing of things, and now I find it odd to sit down to lunch much before 2pm and dinner before 9pm.

This post doesn’t even address the beauty and vibrancy of the people, their lust for life, and beautiful dispositions. Walk though a plaza, and you may find a group of people singing and dancing for no apparent reason, and the night-life in Spain really puts us North Americans (and many other cultures around the world) to shame! In France, we’d call the Spaniards’ attitude “joie de vivre”; in Costa Rica it’s “pura vida”; in Spain, it’s just a way of life.

This post Thoughts on (and many pictures of) Spain appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

A few years ago, I read an article online about how I could have an all-expenses paid trip in Spain, in exchange for simply conversing in English with Spaniards who want to improve their conversational English skills. I wasn’t sure it was a legitimate opportunity (it seemed too good to be true), but I bookmarked it anyway, figuring I could investigate it when I eventually made it to Spain to visit Madrid and beyond.

Which of course, I did.

This post was originally published in 2010. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

This post got a Major Update in November 2019, with links to similar programs to Vaughan Town in other European Countries at the end! 

Vaughan Town Overview

Vaughan Town (visit their site here) lived up to its reputation and word, and is indeed a legitimate volunteer experience. Although it’s not exactly too good to be true (you certainly earn your keep), it’s one of the most rewarding cultural experiences I could have possibly hoped for in Spain.

And I didn’t even get to speak a word of Spanish. (See also: How to Become Fluent in Spanish – and Other Languages)

The program is paid for mainly by Spanish companies who send their employees on a week-long “retreat” to improve their English skills. English is an important part of business in Spain, and many companies are willing to pay top dollar to help their employees become more fluent. Other Spanish attendees include individuals, and some post-secondary school programs that incorporate it into their curriculum.

Thus, the English-speaking volunteers attend the program for free, their value inherent simply in being willing and able to dedicate a week to chatting in English with the program participants.

Click here to learn about other ways to get free accommodation around the world. 

Getting There

After meeting some of the “Anglos” (as we’re referred to throughout the week) at a tapas reception on Saturday night in Madrid, we are loaded onto a bus on Sunday morning. Although Vaughan Town has a few locations in Spain, both of my volunteer weeks take place at Valdelavilla (four hours from Madrid), which I’ll discuss shortly. Although most of the people on the bus are Anglos, a few Spaniards who live in Madrid also tag along for the ride.

After a four hour drive and a stop for lunch in an old Spanish town, we arrive at Valdelavilla. We sit through an orientation session where we officially meet the week’s Master of Ceremonies (Greg), we each introduce ourselves, and learn what the week holds in store for us.

“We don’t have a lot of rules here,” Greg starts, “but we do have one that we’re quite serious about: No Spanish allowed! If we overhear you speaking in Spanish, you’ll get a warning. If we hear you do it again, you’ll be asked to leave. We mean it! You’re all here to speak in English, and all the Spaniards have enough English skills to get by. Use it and improve it!”

With this point of seriousness and the orientation out of the way, we meander down through the old village to the reception building and check into our rooms.

Valdelavilla

2018 Update: Valdelavilla is no longer in operation. However, Vaughan Town – along with a collection of other similar programs mentioned at the end of this article – often operates in similar locations; off the beaten track, and relatively isolated to create a truly English-immersive environment. 

Valdelavilla is a tiny Spanish town in northern Spain (near Soria) that was abandoned in the 1960s due to changing demographics and industry, and restored in the 90’s. It is nestled at the base of a green mountainous valley, 2kms vertically below the nearest road to anywhere. Although there is a WiFi connection (albeit only available in a small range and at less than admirable speeds), cell phones cease to work about 2/3 of the way down the road into the village. The lack of technology adds to the ambiance; Valdelavilla is isolated, charming, and stunningly beautiful.

As participants of the Vaughan Town program, we pretty much take over the town. When Vaughan Town doesn’t use the village, it is rented out for weddings, corporate retreats, and private functions. I believe individuals can also visit for a meal, a walk, or an overnight stay as well.

Accommodation is provided in the restored village houses, and in most cases up to five people are put up in each house, each person receiving their own room with ensuite bathroom. Although the amenities are rustic and at times a touch impractical (for example there is many a doorway and shower stall that is less than five feet tall!), it adds to the overall charm, as you can feel the history that prevails in Valdelavilla.

Each Day’s Events

The Anglos are a varied group; an intentional mix of ages, accents, and backgrounds. This is intended to expose the Spaniards a wide variety of conversation styles and sounds, improving their global English skills.

And as I said earlier, the Anglos (English-speaking volunteers) earn their keep on the program, with a busy schedule and lots of talking.

Breakfast begins at 9am, as does the conversation. We are instructed to ensure that there is an equal mix of Anglos and Spaniards at each table during meals, and we mix and match at will.

At 10am, we begin the “one-to-ones”. The program coordinator creates a schedule each day that pairs off the Anglos and Spaniards each hour for – you got it – English conversation. We can talk about anything under the sun, although we are cautioned against religion, politics, and the standard “what do you do, where do you do it” cocktail chat. I initially worry what I could possibly talk about with so many different people each hour, but almost never find dead air during the one-to-one sessions. In fact, an hour is a perfect amount of time to have a well-rounded conversation (often accompanied by a walk on the surrounding trails) before moving on to a new person and different conversation.

After four hours of one-to-one chatting, lunch is served at 2pm. Although for the Anglos this initially seems to be very late, it is the Spanish norm, and is a routine we all slip into fairly quickly.

Lunch is a three-course meal which normally lasts about an hour and a half, and then it’s siesta time! We have free time until 5pm, which many people use in different ways: catching up on work, surfing the internet, sleeping, walking, playing ball, and even (more) chatting.

At 5pm we reconvene for three more hours of one-to-one sessions before attending a performance at 8pm. Each night’s performance is coordinated and directed by our fearless master of ceremonies, and the cast members are none other than us! Entertainment ranges from skits that Greg has dredged up from his days as a director (participants getting time each day to rehearse in lieu of doing one-to-ones), to videos, to individual participants strutting their stuff – singing, reciting poetry, telling jokes, etc.

Not surprisingly with my acting background, I am a willing participant in the skits, and I even sing a few songs for (and at the request of) the audience.

Dinner is served at 9pm each day. Again although it seems incredibly late for most Anglos, it is actually a touch early for many Spaniards! Three more courses of delicious food later, we roll out of the dining room around 10:30pm.

As the Week Rolls By

At the beginning of the week, many of us are exhausted by the time dinner finishes, and most retire to their rooms after dinner. The days are intense and long especially for the Spaniards, with a full schedule and constant inner attention to translating Spanish to English. The Anglos have it a little easier; receiving a periodic hour of free time now and then (since there are about 17 Anglos and 15 Spaniards) and speaking in their native tongue. But the Spaniards are thrown into the fire to learn and improve their English – and that they do.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, we are all over the initial hump and are gaining our second wind. The Spaniards are more relaxed in their English, and find they are thinking less about what they have to say. This paves the way for even more interesting and fun conversations about just about anything under the sun. During my one-on-ones we speak about things like philosophy, literature, life in the South of Spain, family practices, relationships, geography, and even cheesy pick-up lines.

Friendships are also starting to develop, and the nights are getting progressively longer. More and more people stay up after dinner to play cards, listen to music, drink, and even dance. Depending on the group, there are usually a few party animals burning the midnight oil by taking the party to their house after the bar closes at midnight.

By Thursday night, we are geared up for a full party after dinner, complete with a special Quemada ceremony (a Spanish flaming drink that comes with a ritual to scare away bad spirits), music, and dancing. Even some of the village staff emerges from the kitchen and offices to join in the festivities.

By Friday morning, we arrive at a late breakfast a little bleary eyed, but still speaking English enthusiastically. We do a few more one-to-ones before having an early lunch and piling back on the bus for the drive back to Madrid.

Hugs and kisses are exchanged all around, emails and pictures promised, and often places to stay offered. In fact, after my first week of volunteering, I traveled with some of the Anglos to Toledo for a day trip, before enjoying the gracious hospitality of one of the Spaniards for the next week! After my second week of volunteering with Vaughan Town, I again was offered a place to stay for a night before heading to the airport for an early flight.

The Cultural Experience

Although I initially balked at my decision to focus two of my three weeks in Spain on this volunteer program where I was isolated and not even able to speak in Spanish, I found it to be one of the most rewarding cultural experiences I could possibly have asked for.

Under no other circumstances could I possibly have met so many different Spaniards from all over the country, learned about their lives, and been invited into their homes and hearts. Staying in a hostel, I would never have met any of these people – true locals, much less had so many meaningful one-to-one conversations with them.

Even meeting so many Anglos from all over the world – I now have friends in London, Ireland, South Africa, and the States, to name just a few places. And I will be seeing many of these people again – some soon, some later.

I love Spain as a country, and have vowed to come back as soon as possible. And part of my Spanish travel itinerary – without a doubt – will be to do some more volunteering.

How/Where to Volunteer in Spain, and Other European Countries

Since the original writing of this post (2010), other English Immersion programs have become available in a variety of countries around Europe.

The offering is very similar; English-speaking volunteers get free accommodation and meals in trade for their conversational English services. What differs is the location, amenities, whether or not you will be required to share a room, and length of program. Here’s a summary:

Vaughan Town – Operates 6 day programs in a few different locations throughout Spain. Accommodation (own room), meals, and wine are included for volunteers. Shorter programs may be available to volunteers who are already in the country.

Pueblo Ingles – Operates 6-8 day programs out of a few different locations in Spain and Germany. Accommodation (occasionally shared), meals, and wine are included.

Angloville – Offers 3-11 day programs in Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, Romania, Malta, England, and Ireland. Accommodation is shared and wine is not included. Many volunteers stay on for multiple programs, extending their overall volunteer time to an average of 4-8 weeks. If you’re interested in teaching English, they have a TEFL Scholarship program that helps you earn your TEFL designation. If you’re interested in working with kids and teens, there are also programs available for that (entailing a lengthier application process including criminal record check).

Speak in Italy – Offers 4-day and 8-day programs in Lombardy, Lazio, Puglia, and Tuscany. 

This post Volunteering at Vaughan Town in Spain: A Cultural Experience appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2010. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

As I walked through the narrow cobblestone streets of Alcala (a town 50km outside of Madrid, where I was the house-guest of a lovely Spanish family for a week), I took in everything I could. I smelled the delicious food wafting out from the nearest tapas bars, listened to the sounds of children playing and adults socializing and enjoying the afternoon, and gawked at all the amazing buildings and historical features that are commonplace here in Europe, but oh-so-foreign to my Canadian eyes.

Then, on a relatively empty side-street, I spotted a non-descript doorway, through which I could see countless pieces of artwork. Just inside, an elderly man with long hair and an even longer beard sat on a chair, sketching.

Standing across the street, I was mesmerized. This man had to be photographed. The tiny dark art gallery of sorts obviously contained hundreds of works of this man – who unto himself was a work of art.

Feeling a streak of shyness, I sidled up to the doorway in a way where I couldn’t be seen, to read the sign on the door…drats – all in Spanish, of course.

I stood outside Toro Bravo’s doorway, working up the courage to go inside. I’ve had this feeling before; one of overwhelming shyness, not knowing what would happen if I went inside – whether it would be amazing or a complete flop. It would have been immensely easier just to keep on walking and enjoying the sunny day. And yet I was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

But this is what travel is about for me; pushing myself beyond a comfort zone, satisfying curiosities, and expanding personal boundaries. I realized if I didn’t go inside, I would forever wonder what this man – and this tiny art gallery – was all about.

With that, I stepped inside, and in a combination of broken Spanish and charades asked if I could take a look at his art. My primary motive was really to get a picture of the artist himself, but I figured I had to at least have a look around. I only hoped that I wouldn’t become the victim of a hard sales pitch.

My hopes were gratified when he cordially stood up and with a bow invited me to come in and walk around. I soon discovered that one room opened into another and another, and each room was covered – floor to (and including) ceiling – with artwork. Many of the canvases were piled one on top of the next; there were thousands of pieces of art in this tiny gallery that most people would walk by without a second glance.

I gawked at the oils and acrylics, with all manner of styles and artistic messages, while Toro simply continued to sketch on his pad. My primary motive was still to get a picture, and I was still fighting a bout of shyness about asking.

I said in Spanish that his artwork was beautiful, which was apparently an invitation for Toro Bravo to start speaking. He stood in front of me and addressed me in his calm and quiet – but strong – voice. He had a message, a passion; something that was obviously a lifelong journey and mission.

Although my Spanish is horrible, I picked up on his philosophical and existential message; one of a mind-over-matter theme, not without its share of conspiracy theories, but much of which I identified with on one level or another. He obviously relished a chance to speak to a new face, and my periodic “si”s and nods of approval were enough for him to continue on for a good 15 minutes.

Toro Bravo didn’t even seem particularly phased when he realized that I don’t speak Spanish fluently, as I think he knew that I understood his sentiment while he continued to educate me about the many decades of experience he had amassed. He pointed to books with his image on the front (presumably written by him) that further outlined his expertise and thoughts, and other books and articles written about him sitting on a table.

Finally and suddenly (but not curtly), it was apparent that Toro Bravo had said his peace, and was happy for me to continue to browse or leave, as I wished. I asked if I could take a picture, and of course, he was more than willing. He made a few faces for the camera in a playful attempt to screw up the shot at the last second, and after a few laughs, sat patiently while I took some “serious” shots.

I emerged from the dark gallery to the afternoon sun and heat with a huge smile on my face. I had faced a fear – if even a small one of shyness – and came out not only with a few great shots, but a personal encounter that despite language barriers, spoke deeply to me, and shall forever remain in my memory.

This post Encountering Toro Bravo: A Random Experience in Spain appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!