Cologne Dazzles

They say that you never forget your first time – and for me that was in Seville. While strolling along in the unfiltered sunshine, sharp flashes of light caught my eye. This was it, this was what I had heard about: the bridge of locks, the bridge of hearts, a new trend that was somehow already a tradition.

For the uninitiated, lovers sign their names onto a padlock and then throw the key into the river below. Authorities subsequently remove the locks.

A few months later in Paris, I had my second taste.On the intimate Pont des Arts, in the world’s most romantic city, a string of metal locks shimmered from the railings.

Then I visited Cologne, where passion, not to mention, imagination runs wild.

Cologne doesn’t limit itself to padlocks. The Hohenzollernbrücke Bridge excels itself, not only in terms of the length of its name, but also in terms of declaring undying love.

Cologne Says It With Handcuffs

Hohenzollernbrücke has padlocks, alright. It also has handcuffs, tin cans, bicycle chains and padlock formations. Glitter, gold and gratuitous gemstone stickers. Wilting roses, weathered writing and rusting romance.

A modern blacksmith-of-love sits at one end of the bridge, carving initials into padlocks, while a rose-seller approaches from the opposite direction.

The Hohenzollernbrücke Bridge excels itself, not only in terms of the length of its name, but also in terms of declaring undying love. 

Perhaps things have got out of hand, especially given that Federico Moccia only invented the “tradition” a few years ago as a handy plot device for his novel and subsequent film Ho Voglia de Te.

The Padlock Bridge, Cologne

Creative Padlocks

Love overflows in Cologne...

Ah, well. True love conquers all, as they say.

Or does it? Perhaps I’m not alone in raising an eyebrow of cynicism at so much symbolism.

Stencilled onto the tarmac walkway lies the following message: “Love is only a four-letter word.”

...but not for everyone

I travelled to Cologne as a guest of the Eurostar Explorer team, although as usual, all opinions are my own. I have no relationship with any padlock sellers, engravers, florists or gemstone sticker salespeople, which is probably just as well.

This post on padlocks in Cologne has also joined the happy ranks of the Lonely Planet’s Blogsherpa carnival Love on the Road, hosted this time at Barefoot Inked. Head over there to read more traditions about love from around the world.

Safari in the Okavango Delta

Despite the stillness of the water, there’s no sound of silence. Insects skim across the reeds with a soft buzz and woodpeckers tap against acacia trees. Birds chatters in all directions – yet the loudest by far are the doves.

Chu charra, chu charra.

“Work harder, work harder,” says Rodger, slipping a pole into the delta and easing us forward.

“Drink lager, drink lager,” says another guide, Amos, illustrating a different point of view.

From where I’m sitting, level with the water in a slender mokoro, I hear something else. Botswana, Botswana, Botswana.

The Okavango Delta

The Okavango Delta, Botswana

Eight hundred miles from the Atlantic and a thousand from the Indian Ocean, the Okavango Delta looks like a miniature version of the earth from the air, an expanded jigsaw of land swirls amid deep and spreading blue.  Its water seeps up through the soil, having landed as monsoon rain a thousand miles north in Angola. It’s long been protected, both by government intervention and because its soggy, swampy nature makes building roads here impossible.

To get this deep into the delta, we’ve flown from Maun in a four-seater Cessna, a tiny contraption  that trembled during the descent as though in awe of the expanse below. An elephant greeted us on the runway and warthogs scuttled past us in the camp.

Conservation in Botswana

Botswana takes its wildlife pretty seriously. Even on foot, guides can’t carry firearms for self-defence, only a gunpowder-laced contraption that resembles a syringe. When an elephant veers too close to the camp, a single empty gunshot rips through the vast sky.

Should an elephant charge, or a hippo rear up from the water, our survival depends on our behaviour, we are told. Stand still, stay quiet – and if told to run, try not to fall into an aardvark hole.

Not everyone is reassured.

An Elephant Greets Us on the Runway

“Why not take a gun with you?” asks one member of our camp. “If you killed something by accident, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“A lifetime in prison,” comes the reply.

There’s a rare moment of silence before we climb aboard.

Stand still, stay quiet – and try not to fall into an aardvark hole.

Mokoro on the Delta

Despite the danger, it’s hard to imagine a more peaceful mode of transport. A cross between a punt and a canoe, mokoros used to be the only way to travel around here. Previous generations hand-carved them from ebony and kigelia trees but had to wait for more than 100 years for the trunk to reach the right size. Since a wooden mokoro only has a five year lifespan, the arrival of a fibreglass version was greeted with about the same enthusiasm as the discovery of sliced bread.

Today, boats use small motors to churn along the main waterway to Maun, carrying people, food and beer. The mokoros, however, fashion their own way through the reed fields, the long grass spreading apart before them in a deferential rustle.

This off-piste navigation isn’t just for entertainment, though.

Giraffe on Safari

 “The only animal I fear,” says Rodger when I ask him, “is the hippopotamus. That is why we stay away from the main channel.”

“But,” I state the obvious. “We do need to cross it… eventually.”

Rodger sinks the pole into the delta again and water sloshes gently against the thin-walled mokoro.

 “I look for bubbles,” he says slowly. He grins. “And I drive fast!”

Chu-charra, chu-charra.

 The doves reach a crescendo as we glide past giraffe, baboons and impala, while Rodger keeps watch. My mind drifts to his interpretation of what the doves are saying.

Like the rhythm of the mokoro itself, his version soothes me.

More information on arranging a safari in Botswana’s Okavango Delta coming soon…

Okavango Delta Flowers

Birdsong & The Okavango Delta, Botswana

Mokoro Safari, Okavango Delta

Gianluca Pisanello - Formula One Race Engineer

So here’s the latest in the Unusual Journeys series: words from one of Formula One’s secret masterminds, Italian-born Race Engineer Gianluca Pisanello from Lotus Racing.

Let’s get started!

-You work as a Race Engineer for Lotus Racing – what does that involve?

As Race Engineer, I am responsible for one of the two cars of the team.
At the track, I coordinate the “car crew”, a group of four engineers, each one a specialist in one area (vehicle, engine, control systems and electronics), about ten mechanics and, obviously, the driver.
The objective is to try to extract the maximum performance from the car we’ve been given, optimising the many parameters that can be adjusted in a Formula One car (not least the driver’s brain). I am also responsible for communicating with the driver while he’s driving. My decisions are based on the feedback from the driver and the engineers, simulation results, data analysis and experience.

-How did you get into this line of work?

"He asked if I was interested, but at that point he was talking to himself. I was already typing out the application..."

In 1998 I sent out a CV to a company making dishwashers, but I misspelled the address.
Ok, ok… I’ve always been passionate about race cars. I had been working in an IT company for one year when a friend told me that a Formula 3 team was looking for a Data Analysis Engineer. He asked me if I was interested, but at that point he was talking to himself, for I was already typing my application. I spent 3 years in that team and in the last year we won the F. Renault championship with Ryan Briscoe, a young Toyota driver. Toyota were just starting their F1 campaign, so I applied there and in April 2002 I started working there.
When Toyota closed their F1 project at the end of last year, I joined Lotus Racing. Funnily enough, Jarno, who I had worked with for the past five years, did the same.

-Would you recommend it to someone starting out now?

If I wouldn’t I should change jobs.

-Any tips for beginners?

Study a lot, don’t give up, forget about sleeping.

-What is the best part of your job?

A Race Engineer at Work

Many things, really. The adrenaline of qualifying, the joy of a good result, being part of a top notch group of engineers and technicians…

-Which part is the most stressful: before, during or after the race?

From my point of view qualifying is the most stressful part. Everything must be perfect, because there’s no second chance and very often you need to synchronise what happens right down to the second. I must say that a race in variable weather conditions is quite stressful too.

Study a lot, don’t give up, forget about sleeping.

-Where have you travelled to?

Many places: all over Europe, Melbourne, Shanghai, Bahrain, Montreal, KL, Singapore, Suzuka… and then there are strange and exotic places like Silverstone.

-Which place surprised you the most?

More than a single place, what surprises me are the differences between one and another. It still amazes me to see such different cultures and how people prioritise things in a completely different way. Shanghai, Monaco, Suzuka, Bahrain, Sao Paulo and Melbourne are only examples of places that could very well belong to different solar systems.
It’s fascinating how in a hyper-connected society, people still manage to be so different and I hope that it remains like that to a certain extent.

-What are the downsides of travelling with work?

I think the most important downside is that you struggle to give continuity to all other aspects of your life (family, friends, hobbies…). You can’t commit to anything else outside your job. I think I’m lucky because my family and friends understand this situation well. On my side, I try to put in the extra effort to spend as long as I can with them, even if it means fighting jet-lag and having dinner while your body clock screams that it’s 3 in the morning.

It’s fascinating how in a hyper-connected society, people still manage to be so different.

-The upsides?

You get a fantastic excuse to avoid people you don’t like ;)
Jokes apart, I love travelling and although I travel to more than twenty different destinations worldwide for work every year, I still like to take a trip when I’m on holiday. When I come home from an event I’m extremely tired and looking forward to some routine, but after a couple of days I already start the countdown to my next departure.
Some consider travelling to be a waste of time, but if you organise yourself, then a long flight can be the perfect chance to do the things you like and never otherwise have time to do. OK, if all you like is painting you might create something very original in certain bumpy flights).

-When you travel with work, do you get the chance to explore the country you’re visiting?

When we travel in Europe it’s very difficult, because we usually arrive on Wednesday evening and leave straight after the race, so we are only left with a couple of dinners out when the workload is not extreme. When we fly to other continents we get there one day earlier and/or leave one day later and this gives us some opportunities for “fast-tourism”.
One thing I hate is to have dinner or drinks in the hotel. It’s a shame to be in places other people pay to go to and not to take advantage of it.

-What is the most dangerous place you’ve ever visited?

If we exclude the places where you risk dying of boredom (there are more than a few), the most dangerous place is Sao Paulo for sure. The shocking contrast between the favelas and the luxury hotels only a few hundred meters away obviously generates strong social tensions, which erupt in widespread criminality. In my previous team, we were victims of attempted robberies twice, while waiting in our vehicles at a red light. Three or four years ago, they even shot at one of our vans while the driver tried to escape. Luckily, nothing serious happened.

Abi: What are the upsides of travelling with work? GP: You get a fantastic excuse to avoid people you don’t like…

-Do you think that travel has changed you?

Yes, I think so. You face many different people and situations. You understand why some things happen and new questions arise. One interesting thing I realised while travelling and working with people of many nationalities over the last eight years is that most of the stereotypes about people from different countries (including the Italians) are actually true!

-Would you do it all again?

When do we start?

-What do you wish I’d asked you?

What do you like besides travelling?

I love music. I’m an eager (and quite intransigent) listener and an amateur singer. I managed to set up a band in my previous team and I’m trying to do the same here at Lotus Racing, so stay tuned!

Abi: Would you do it all again? GP: When do we start?

You can follow Pisanello’s progress with Formula One and the emerging Lotus Racing band through twitter at @gpq1971. Find the rest of the Lotus Racing Team at @MyLotusRacingor on Facebook as LotusRacing.

The Oceanográfico

The Oceanográfico forms part of the spectacular City of Arts & Sciences complex in Valencia. As the largest aquarium in Europe, it brings those of us who are not marine biologists closer to the underwater world. It’s a place of education and conservation. It teaches hope and it inspires. It expands horizons and it aims to create a better world for the future.

And yet…it makes me uneasy.

Seahorse

Jellyfish

But then there are sharks.

Sharks

Walruses.

Walruses

And whales.

Whales

And suddenly the proportions don’t seem right.

What is my problem with these confined spaces? Are they smaller than the world’s oceans? Of course, but the story doesn’t end there. I’m not a Greenpeace crusader and I don’t work in an animal sanctuary. I’m not even vegetarian.

So why do these exhibits bother me?

I try to rationalize things. Qualified vets tend to these animals. No-one crams them into a factory the way they do for eggs and milk; no matador will slaughter them for entertainment.

These animals are even free from obligations during the day – well fed, kept warm, kept safe. I can hardly say the same for millions of people scattered across the globe in zones of famine and war and I don’t even need to go that far.

Inside Valencia's Aquarium

Across Europe and the USA, hundreds of thousands of people will get up and go to jobs they hate, sit in spaces much smaller than those I am questioning here and go home to get up and do it all over again. They will pay others to bring up their young, because they see no other way of finding food and shelter.

In many places in the world, people feel compelled to sell their children.

So, until I’m crusading against each and every one of those things – do I have any right to feel uncomfortable about conditions in an aquarium?

Disclosure: To avoid any confusion, this visit was nothing to do with the recent BlogTripF1 to Valencia.

We leave them to it and wander instead to the hospitality area overlooking the Med, a yacht or two waiting nearby and a helicopter whirring softly overhead. Shiny office blocks line up to the left, gleaming yet temporary compounds for the wealthiest fans in the world.

It’s so peacefully quiet. Across the track somewhere, the rock music will be blaring, the crowds finding their seats, hawkers selling baseball caps and Ferrari shirts and students dishing out free newspapers. A thousand images of the Spanish sweetheart, Alonso, will gaze up from the front page.

“A lot of people talk about the F1 bubble,” says Tom, as reporters walk past in jeans and T-shirts. “You need a pass to get in an out and there’s a level of hierarchy…”

He pauses to greet a colleague. “It’s easy to get jaded.

The Face of Formula One?

“You’re doing the same thing in the same sort of places with the same lot of people.”

He squints against the sun. “It’s easy to get lost in that little world.”

Our time is up and we exchange our fluorescent passes with the impossibly beautiful Air Asia women at the gate. Back in the cheap seats (at a mere 600 Euros each), we watch willowy girls in hotpants mark each car’s starting point with a national flag. They look as haughty and bored as possible, fulfilling the Grand Prix stereotypes of cash, girls and egos.

“A lot of people talk about the F1 bubble.”

Then something interesting happens. The grid starts to come alive as mechanics in ghostbuster outfits stride onto the tarmac, assembling stacks of tyres, heaters and insulated coils of wire. Photographers race through to snatch last minute photographs, the cars themselves manoeuvre through the scrambled human activity. So many people are pitching in and working, that it takes a moment to recognize the familiar faces: Schumacher, Hamilton, Alonso, Button. Any ego is swallowed by the swarm of firefighters, stewards and others whose job I couldn’t pretend to guess, but who look incredibly busy, carry earpieces and scowl at important-looking clipboards.

Schumacher - Seemingly Ignored

Once more, it’s the car and not the driver that receives the attention, with assistants holding parasols over some parts, while mechanics nurse the temperature of the tyres right up until the final moment. The drivers have been hoisted into their seats, but those tyres are still caressed, undressed and then snuggled under blankets on the grid.

“It’s easy to get jaded.”

Tom’s last few words drift into my mind. “What it’s about is talent across the board. We’re all excited about the moment when a car goes sliding through a corner and looks quite cool…”

When Lotus Win...

A Lotus car rolls past, decked in gold and green. “When we get our first point, we will be the happiest people in the world.”

The girls have gone and the noise builds again, that burning, tearing, deafening sound that shudders through the stands. In a lull between the revs, I think I hear a countdown from the distorted loudspeaker, somewhere in the crowd.

“Five seconds, four seconds,” but that can’t be right, it’s still so crowded.

“Three,” men fall to their knees, grappling with the tyre blankets. “Two,” oh holy shit I am about to witness the worst mass slaughter in the history of the Formula One. “One,” the noise now suffocates every space and sense in me, blinding all perception, blotting out everything except its own existence. There’s a crescendo, a climax, a searing pain in my ears…and then emptiness.

They’ve gone. It’s a magic trick, an illusion, where 24 cars disappear within a heartbeat, their caretakers flung against the fence in the final second.

Formula One: The Cars

I stand, stunned by the experience, while the workers sprint into action, hauling heaters, cameras and even more clipboards through a few small holes in the barricade. There’s barely a minute until the cars return from the formation lap and the Formula One Grand Prix truly begins.

The truth is altogether less glamorous.

The Formula One franchise likes the image of wealth, risk and life in the fast lane, yet the truth is altogether less glamorous: a lot of people doing a lot of work and, yes, making an extraordinary amount of noise.

A Lot of Work - An Extraordinary Amount of Noise

Land of Valencia invited me to the city of Valencia and the Lotus Racing Team invited me inside the Formula One Paddock. However, I was, am and always will be, free to write about whatever I want in whichever way I want here on Inside the Travel Lab. Read my thrilling disclosure policy here.

Tigers - Will You See One?

“We’ve been here all week,” say the first couple we meet in Sawai Madhopur, when we ask the question that’s on everyone’s mind.

“Yesterday, we saw some tracks,” adds a woman who travelled here after an intensive yoga course.

The safari guide shrugs. “Nothing is guaranteed.”

Tigers. In this dusty, two-street town in Rajasthan, it’s slightly embarrassing to see so many people focused on one big cat. Especially when you’re one of them. Yet with only 4000 tigers left alive (across the whole world, not just in India,) tiger-fever is easier to understand.
Tigers decorate the safari jeeps, their pictures cover the hotel walls. They’re almost all you’ll find in the guidebooks and they dominate conversations between locals and tourists alike.

Tigers, tigers, tigers. Have you seen one? Do you think you will?

The Road to Ranthambore

Sawai Madhopur obsesses over tigers because it sits on the edge of the Ranthambore National Park, a key part of the initial Project Tiger conservation programme. Sadly, over the years it has become ensnared in its own poaching controversies, but it remains one of the best places in Rajasthan to spot a tiger. Safaris leave twice a day, once in the morning and then again at dusk, and the number of vehicles entering the park is strictly limited.

Yet as the safari guide rightly pointed out, “Nothing is guaranteed.”

Despite the tourist board rhetoric, many people do spend a week here without seeing a tiger. A colleague, Wild Junket, contacted me on twitter recently to ask whether or not it was even worth the trip.

I didn’t have as many words at my disposal then as I do now, but my answer was… ”Yes.”

On a Tiger Safari

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Tigers star in the line-up, tigers get all the glory, but… the truth is that Ranthambore bursts with wildlife, with velvet-purple lakes and monkeys swinging through sunset. Owls hoot softly from the trees and wild deer bolt through the long and golden grass. Old, abandoned forts cast shadows over the valley below…

If tigers had never existed (and at the rate we’re going, they soon won’t), then I strongly believe that people would still travel to see this park.

Ranthambore is beautiful. Its twisted trees, crisp dried landscape and its timeless feel deserve a visit. If you manage to see the queen of the jungle, that’s just the crowning glory.

As for me? Did my dream of tigers come true? You’ll have to read this article to find out.

Happy hunting.

Ranthambore...

Lotus During the Grand Prix

Getting ready to rumble...

“It’s about to get extremely loud in here, guys,” says the Lotus spokesman. “Really loud.”

It’s too late, though. Before  the end of the sentence, the noise arrives. A shrieking, piercing buzz that reverberates through me as I press my thumbs harder and harder against my ears, thoughts driven from my mind, inhaling the sound. I’m in the Lotus Formula One team garage - and with ninety minutes to go before the big race, I’m coming face to eardrum with two key components of the Grand Prix: noise and speed.

 I’m coming face to eardrum with two key components of the Grand Prix: noise and speed.

Money, of course, is the third one (VIP passes cost around £35 000) but today marks my first real understanding of just how much technology and teamwork is involved. We’ve walked through a labyrinth of computer screens, cables, silver-foil pipes and a network of exposed sensors, all living within this three-storey structure that will be disassembled by the end of the day. It may go by the name of “garage” but “Starship Enterprise meets office block” seems more appropriate.

Inside the Lotus Team Garage

Upstairs, Lotus’s Tom Webb tells us, engineers are planning the strategy for the Valencia Grand Prix. A row of men with hunched shoulders stare at softly lit blue computer screens. “They’re looking at hydraulic pressure, temperatures… a whole range of different sensors on the cars so that they can maintain performance throughout the race.”

Our presence here is as natural as Bob the Builder turning up in the White House.

Just beyond the garage, in the full heat of the burning Valencia sun, the pit lane never slows for a moment. Convoys of tyres, nose cones and front wings and, yes, the cars themselves process past, accompanied by journalists with lenses the size of marrows and gadget guys in all-in-one suits. Everything looks clean and perfect, there’s no sign of litter or smoke, no faded stickers or equipment, no scribbled notes on scraps of paper. The Valencia Grand Prix has stepped straight out of the salon.

Back in the Lotus garage, the atmosphere is focused. Formula One rules forbid teams from inspecting the cars overnight, imposing a curfew between the qualifying rounds and the main race. The clock is ticking and the deadline only minutes away.

The Pit Lane - Valencia Grand Prix

Certain aspects remind me of my time in paediatric intensive care. The special lights, the gauges, the tyre incubators with probes in three places (inside, middle and outer) and the ratio of trained personnel to a single entity – in this case a car rather than a child.

In fact, that’s been one of the biggest surprises of this visit. The legend of Formula One focuses on the drivers, but the reality focuses on the car. It’s a team endeavour, with staff working from 6am until 10 at night, measuring, recording, adapting, planning.

Continues with The Real Face of Formula One here…

A special thank you extends to Land of Valencia for inviting me on their groundbreaking BlogTripF1, Keith Jenkins from Velvet Escape and the Lotus Formula One team for inviting me to visit the Valencia Grand Prix Formula One Paddock. See my photos of the Valencia Grand Prix on Flickr here. Expect plenty more photos, text, videos and audio very soon…

Lewis Hamilton - Valencia Grand Prix

As it happens, the sentence was supposed to be positive.

“People will tell you that girls can’t do science,” my teacher said. “But don’t listen to them.”

I was bored. What were they on about? They might as well be saying, “Don’t let anyone tell you that girls can’t sing.” Some can, some can’t, much the same as boys…

Fast forward, er, let’s call it “several” years plus a few more life experiences and I thought of that teacher again.

In the midst of a fresh Paris spring, I was standing in another building with scuffed wooden floors and a curious blend of dust and industrial cleaner. I was standing in Marie Curie’s office.

It’s a small and fairly quiet affair, a subdued museum in the leafy streets of the 5^th Arrondissement. The displays show a few posters, some yellowed leaflets and a terrifying collection of radioactive beauty products, endorsed by Miss France rather than Mme Curie, to help young girls get perfectly clear skin. Somehow, it didn’t do justice to the real story.

A young woman, Maria Sklodowska, flees from Warsaw to Kraków for her own safety. She then moves to France in the late 1800s to study further. Her husband dies in an accident, leaving her a single mother with two young children. When World War I breaks out, she teaches herself how to drive and travels to the front line to use X-rays to help treat wounded soldiers.

Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained.

 Marie Curie.

Institut du Radium

Marie becomes the first woman to receive a Nobel Prize but, far more importantly, the only person in history to have won a Nobel Prize in two different science subjects: physics and chemistry.

I’m going to say that again: the only person in history to have won a Nobel Prize in two different science subjects.

The only person in history to have won a Nobel Prize in two different science subjects.

Yet the French Academy of Sciences refused to admit her as a member, declaring that “women cannot be part of the Institute of France.”

It was that small postscript, those few words, that brought me back to my schoolteacher and my altogether less illustrious place of learning.

The problem has never been that girls can’t do science; it’s that people think that they can’t.
 

Disclosure: the author has two XX chromosomes plus a fair few scientific awards, although (alas!) none of them are Nobel Prizes.

The Marie Curie Museum

The Curie Museum is on the ground floor of the Curie Pavilion in the Institut Curie, 11 Rue Pierre et Marie Curie, Paris. Entrance is free.

Marie Curie's Office

Worse, somehow, is when you can see plenty but none of it’s fit to drink.

Clean Water & Travel Writing

Tripbase, an online travel research company, has put together a series of books that include work from world famous travel writers like Rolf Potts to, er, rather-less-famous-but-hopefully-mildly-interesting writers such as my good self.

A Range of Free Travel Books

Titles include Worldwide Travel, Travel Tips, Foodie Travel, United States Travel, Italy Travel, Worldwide Beaches Travel and Family Travel and you can download free e-copies right here.

For every book you download, Tripbase contributes $1 to charity:water, a charity devoted to providing clean water for developing countries.

To find out more about the work of charity:water, visit their website here. There’s nothing to lose with this offer, other than a few minutes of your time and bandwidth. Read, enjoy, return!

Zafra. The very name of the place intrigued me, so I was hoping for something different, something exciting and the Parador de Zafra didn’t disappoint.

Paradors are state-subsidized hotels found across Spain, many of which are actually refurbished historical buildings.

In fact, the full name of the parador in question is “Parador de Zafra, Alcazar de los Duques de Feria,” reflecting the Dukes who used to own this castle.

That’s right, it’s a castle, a “fortress built on the orders of the noble knight Lorenzo Suárez de Figueroa …in the year 1443.” Men of great historical, if controversial, prominence such as Hernán Cortés stayed here before sailing off to conquer the New World.

Today, battlements still overlook the entrance, chiselled coats of arms guard the door and curved lantern holders shield modern lightbulbs.

Inside, however, provides a wonderful refuge from the windswept heat of Extremadura. An arched stone courtyard surrounds a central fountain and there are plenty of cream sofas and chairs to relax in, have an aperitivo in and (even!) write a blog post in.

Pewter tankards and plates sit on polished wooden tables throughout the angled, twisting and confusing corridors of the castle. So, too, do gloomy portraits of Christ and sombre embroidered curtains that evoke the spirit of the past.

Zafra Parador – Facilities

Central Courtyard, Zafra Parador

The hotel itself, however, functions as a modern hotel should: powerful hot running water, wifi in almost every room, room service, a television, and a sparkling, if small, swimming pool at the back.

Zafra Parador – Food

The restaurant’s menu features traditional food from the region: stewed lamb, fish, apricots and dates with honey, migas (fried breadcrumbs), chorizo and more. Breakfast, a pricey extra if not included with your booking, has a great selection of local hams, cereals and fresh fruit as well as churros, juice and scrambled eggs. Service is friendly for southern Spain.

Zafra Parador – Price

Parador hotels are not budget options, that’s for sure, but they do offer fantastic value for money. We booked using their young person’s discount (which, flatteringly, extends to the ripe old age of 35) for around £100 a night. For excellent food in a luxury castle in the centre of town, I think that’s pretty good.

More on Zafra soon…

Entrance to Zafra Parador