The last couple of months have been a whirlwind.
I spent a lot of time planning a big adventure through Southeast Asia for this spring—flying into Singapore, then making my way through Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam.
I had it all mapped out… until a friend casually mentioned how brutal the heat is in Cambodia this time of year—90 to 100 degrees Fahrenheit every day. I hadn’t even factored in the weather.
Suddenly, the idea of sweating my way through Angkor Wat felt less like a dream and more like a survival challenge – and too much like the scorching heat in Texas. I scrapped the whole thing and pivoted. Spain was calling.
I’ve never been to Spain, and with Ernest Hemingway on my mind, it felt like the right move. It was time to make that trip happen.
While Hemingway famously romanticized Paris, much of his literary heart lies in Spain. For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Sun Also Rises—so many of his works are steeped in the culture and spirit of the country. Spain was the last stop on my Hemingway bucket list. I’d been everywhere else: Key West, Ketchum, Chicago, Paris – heck, even Cuba!
I flew from Houston (IAH) to Amsterdam (AMS) on KLM (free flight using points, business class—solid, but not quite up to Air France’s standards), with a day layover in Amsterdam. I’m always amazed by the view of the canals from the plane window—how did the Dutch build an entire city laced with water like that?
This was my second time in Amsterdam, and the chaos of tourism hordes hit hard. Yikes. The Amsterdam Schipol airport was a madhouse of people—clean, efficient, but completely overrun. I simply don’t like hordes of tourists at every turn. It’s just too chaotic and loud.
I had just a few hours, so I made my way into the city center via train (easy 10 mins ride) to the Rembrandt House, not expecting much. But it surprised me. The demos showing Rembrandt’s painting techniques were incredibly well done, and the quirks of a 1600s Dutch home—winding staircases, upright cabinet beds—were fascinating.
Then it was back to the airport and on to Barcelona. The city impressed me right away. Organized, easy to navigate, and just a short ride from the airport to my Airbnb. While I’d heard horror stories about mass tourism, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. There were enough areas of the city where tourists didn’t congregate.
My first stop the next day: Gaudi’s Park Güell. Honestly? It felt overrated. Yes, it’s got views, but it was too crowded to enjoy. I was a little disappointed.
The next day made up for it.
I took a day bus tour trip to Montserrat, an ancient basilica built high in the mountains. It’s been on my bucket list for years – a life long dream. To get up to Montserrat with the views, you need to take their special train up the steep mountain side, which takes about twenty-minutes, though there roads up the backside I later discovered.
The landscape was breathtaking, and I finally understood where Gaudí drew inspiration for the Sagrada Família’s jagged spires.
The whole place radiated a kind of spiritual energy. I wished I had more time to explore, but a timed group tour only gives you so much freedom. It was a dream come true.
There’s also some excellent Catalonian cheese makers and some unique regional liquors you can taste in the shops and food stalls.
Then came the now infamous power outage. It started at a gift shop in Montserrat—lights flickered out right after I checked out. No big deal, I thought.
But on the way back, our guide said the power was out in Barcelona. Then… all of Spain. Then… Europe? Cell service died. Airports closed. Total blackout.
When we got back, Barcelona was eerily still. Shops shuttered. Restaurants closed. People stranded. I spoke to someone who said major power towers burned out and replacements weren’t coming anytime soon. Who knew? For nine hours, the city was frozen in place. If there was ever a real zombie apocalypse, this is what it would be like …
It was surreal. Then, at 10 p.m., the power snapped back on. Cell service returned. It was like it never even happened. But I won’t forget it, and I’m not too keen to experience it again.
Back in the swing of things the next day, I joined a tapas crawl that led to an impromptu Barcelona vs Inter Milan soccer match with the locals—completely wild and incredibly fun.
Later the next day, I hit up other key things to see and do: Christopher Columbus statue, Lichtenstein’s sculpture, tapas at La Plata (thanks to Anthony Bourdain for that tip), Picasso Museum, and the Hemingway-frequented Bar Marsala in the Gothic Quarter.
I really enjoyed walking the Gothic Quarter – it had some old time historic charm. It wasn’t too busy and there were so many alleys one could escape down into for a walk.
And, of course, I had to visit Sagrida Familia, the famous Gaudi church that’s still in progress. It was a highlight, for sure, one of the most impressive buildings I’ve ever seen. I won’t try and describe it other than to say it’s beyond words in scale and visuals. A must visit for anyone coming to Barcelona.
I was then tempted to head to Mallorca, but instead booked a flight to Madrid, so I’d have more time to explore.
When I arrived, I expected Madrid to be calmer than Barcelona. Uh, no. It was chaos. A Spanish holiday packed the city even tighter than Barcelona. I’d never seen so many tourists in my life packed into a city.
Lines for the Prado Museum were 500+ deep so I skipped it. Reina Sofía Museum had a 300-person wait in the rain. After being drenched in the rain, I went anyway—some Picasso and Dalí artwork gems, but the crowds, again, made it hard to enjoy.
I did the Hemingway circuit quickly: Cervecería Alemana was a highlight—like stepping into the 1920s. I snagged a seat near Hemingway’s table near the window and had a vermouth. Restaurante Botín (where the novel The Sun Also Rises ends) sadly, was too crowded for a meal or even a drink. Still, I got my photos.
Next day, I rented a car and headed northwest to the Segovia region. Driving in Spain felt like driving in the U.S.—no big adjustment.
I stumbled upon a beautiful mountain basilica on the way (The Basílica de la Santa Cruz del Valle de los Caídos aka Basilica of the Holy Cross of the Valley of the Fallen) that was stunning, not too many people. It was the first place I could enjoy with thousands of tourists cramming every inch.
Once in Segovia, I was lucky and booked a discounted room at Parador de La Granja—budget luxury for $125 a night. It was an old military barracks next to a Spanish castle, where the troops stayed. Rooms were giant ceilings. Amazing place on a budget. The daily breakfast was fantastic.
Paradors are government buildings turned into luxury hotels by the Spanish government. If you book during the week, the prices are about as same as a Holiday Inn in the US. Avoid weekend rates, however, they’re like 2-4x the weekday rate.
Next door, at the Royal Palace of La Granja, where King Phillip lived, the gardens were stunning with iron sculptures everywhere.
The area around Segovia was like a Spanish version of Colorado—green, mountainous, wooded, with dramatic canyon views. The Alcázar of Segovia looked like something out of a fairytale dream – it’s often called the Disneyland Castle. I also was impressed with their technology – you didn’t need a tour guide. I simply downloaded an app and listened at my own pace of descriptions inside the castle.
Afterwards, I skipped the rest of the sights and admired the famous Segovian Roman aqueduct before rain sent me moving again.
Onwards to Toledo, in the south, about two hours away from Segovia.
Once again, I found the city was tight, winding, tourist-clogged. Not for me. I parked, popped into the cathedral to see El Greco’s works, and left Toledo and had no interest in seeing anymore of it. There were just way too many tourists! Regrettably, I know I’m part of the problem. But my goodness, the amount of tourists hustling about was just overwhelming. It was even worse than Madrid.
I had no plans for my final few days, so I decided to drive down to the La Mancha region, made famous by Cervantes.
My reward for escape? A discount luxury spa hotel (Hotel Spa Villa Nazules) in the quiet La Mancha countryside for only $75 per night. Fields, olive trees, rabbits, and peace. This region stole my heart.
The windmills scattered all over the area were magical—the entire region was like maybe what the Napa Valley was like 50 years ago, I at least imagined. No tourists nearly anywhere. It was peaceful and serene.
I followed the Don Quixote trail in the area, where I had an unforgettable gourmet meal in a tiny, dusty town at a Restuarant Alkeria.
Then, it was back to Madrid for one last museum sprint. I simply had to visit the famous Prado Museum.
The Prado—this time less crowded—was spectacular. It holds masterpieces from Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights to works by Rubens, Goya, and Titian.
I even found Rosa Bonheur’s El Cid lion painting—one of my mom’s favorites. There were no photos allowed in the Prado Museum, which was unusual, but some memories don’t need a camera. It’s a giant museum on scale of the Louvre, one could spend days in there wandering around and still not see everything.
Once again, I completed an entire trip partially on prior planning and research, but mostly on just winging it on a day-to-day basis and booking things at last minute wherever I felt like going for the day. Most of the things I enjoyed were spontaneous discoveries – some of the best places barely even exist on Google Maps.
And that was it. 14 days. My Spain trip was over. Lots of great memories to last me a lifetime.
My original KLM flight back home to Austin got re-routed due to Boeing plane issues. So it was then Madrid → Amsterdam → Las Vegas → Austin.
KLM was so gracious about the rescheduling, that they credited me $600 US dollars, even though I didn’t even buy a ticket in the first place (free reward ticket using points). That would never happen with an American based airline.
I flew Air Europa to Amsterdam—nice experience in Boeing 787 Dreamliner. And, then, my KLM flight to Las Vegas wasn’t full, so I had room to stretch in an empty seat next to me.
As I flew over stunning Greenland and the frozen landscape of the Hudson Bay region of Canada en route to Las Vegas, I’m reflecting on the surreal nature of this trip: from planning a Southeast Asia itinerary to landing in Spain, surviving a blackout, chasing Hemingway, and stumbling into La Mancha’s quiet beauty.
Spain blew me away—its landscapes reminded me of Wyoming, Colorado, and the Napa Valley. The people were kind, the food memorable, and La Mancha region was everything I didn’t know I needed.
A perfect ending: giants, windmills, and imagination. And the weather was fantastic.