The White Village of Casares

Many places in Andalusia still leaves you with a sense of having stepped back in time. The photogenic town of Casares, with its white silhouettes of houses sprawling up the hillside and surrounded by the mountainous territory that is Serrania de Ronda, is one such place. Whichever way you approach it, nothing prepares you for the spectacular views it affords from all angles, the distinctive outlines of white sugar cube houses crowned by an Arab castle perched on top of the hill.

We used the toll road and drove along a row of wind turbines, most fascinating to a two year-old who likes anything that goes round and round. There is a tourist information centre just before the entrance to the town and I managed to inform the attendant that I speak no Spanish. She was kind enough to give us a direction to the free car park in perfect English and bade us away with a map of the village.

From the car park, the main village square is reached through a labyrinth of winding streets, passing by local people gossiping on the street. The smell of newly-baked bread from the panaderia made our stomachs rumble but soon enough we found ourselves in front of the water feature called Carlos III Fountain, built in 1785 using neo-classical style which marks the centre of town.

While having our favourite breakfast of cafe con leche and pan y tomate con aceite de oliva, we witnessed village elders hold their council on a couple of benches at the back of a church wall. Locals and tourists crossed the square. Older women hovered around their doorsteps watching the daily goings-on unfold before them. Like they, and many others before them, would have done for ages.

We would have happily stayed there but the square was getting busier and other people needed our seat so we thanked the owner of the cafe who was running a one man show and made our way up the steep hill to the ruins of the moorish wall and the castle, admiring the plants adorning the walls of the houses and greeting everyone we pass by.

The fortress was built in the 13th Century on Roman foundations and the 16th Century Church of the Incarnation, originally a Franciscan-capuchin convent, features a Mundejar tower.

We walked along the walls of the ruins, admiring the views of the town below and following the little boy as he ran around the ruins. On the other side opposite the church is a viewpoint with a panoramic view over olive groves, orchards and forests agains the backdrop of the Mediterranean sea.

The cemetery, located within the castle enclosure is also a site to visit. It is known for its circular construction with whitewashing niches. It was closed when we visited but we were able to admire it through the iron gates.

We used the coastal road on our way home, following a scenic route of hills and wooden areas and dotted with restaurants offering local Andalusian cuisine. We promised to stop by another time, for now content to have our fill of the beautiful Casares.

Knaresborough: Yorkshire's Biggest Hidden Gem

Knaresborough is a picturesque little market town in Yorkshire that was built in the gorge of the River Nidd which spills down the river bank while towering above are the ruins of an ancient castle and an iconic viaduct. No other place in Britain has quite captured my imagination as it has and it will always surprise me how very few people seem to have heard of it.

We went on a day trip in 2011, on the bank holiday weekend that celebrated the royal wedding and the royalists that we are decided it was too good a day to be stuck inside watching the lavish ceremony paid for by our hard-earned money so we decided to commemorate the event by visiting a town that was a perfect example of merry England. In the days when it was still easy to just hop on a train and escape for a day, we headed off to Leeds where we changed platforms to take the Harrogate line.

The train crossed the river through the stone viaduct and we followed a warren of cobbled streets and staircases which led us down to the riverside that was littered with pretty cafes, riverside walks and boats for hire.

After a short coffee break, we borrowed a boat and a romantic ride ensued (after a tiny bickering about how to make it move!) under the river gorge, taking turns on the oars. The views of the town rising on the crag from the river was a sight to behold and it was almost with regret that we got off the boat when our time was up.

We took a different path on our way up, following the signs that led us to the Knaresborough Castle, a Norman ruin that includes a 700-year-old King's Tower and modern-day unofficial children's climbing wall (for we have captured a couple of wilful youngsters defying Britain's extreme health and safety regulations). The views along the way are almost too beautiful for words even though it is a familiar sight for those of us who are fans of Paul the Weatherman's segment at 6pm on  BBC Yorkshire.

We explored the medieval ruins and strolled along the castle grounds before heading towards the town centre that was mostly made up of Georgian homes, boutique independent shops and pretty little cafes. We followed the map of the town's tromp l'oeil - an art technique that sets out to 'fool the eye' into seeing a painted picture as something real. This colourful trail features characters and events from the towns long and rich history that goes back as far as 5th Century and were painted on the town's blank windows, a feature of Georgian buildings where the windows were blocked to avoid window taxes.

After picking up the traditional lunch of fish and chips from one of the village shops, we were off to chase our train to Harrogate. But the historic and delightful town of Knaresborough has sprinkled so much stardust that until now it remains my perfect vision of Peter Pan's Neverland. Go and see for yourself - it's an almost English paradise.

Weekend Walk: Lady Bower Reservoir

On Sunday morning, we woke up to a sky that was clear, a great echoing bowl of blue, drenched in light from the sun that has just risen over the horizon. The early morning air was crisp and the ice crystals that formed overnight were still clinging to the leaves of the potted plants by our kitchen door. It was a sort of day that brought a lot of promise, perfect for a photo walk in the countryside to capture the poetry of the changing season.

The night before, I have suggested taking the wheel and driving the family to the Lady Bower Reservoir, a twenty minute journey from Hillsborough through the quiet country lane that is Rivelin Valley Road which follows the course of the river until it joins A57 to the right, the trunk road between Sheffield and Manchester which passes through sheep pastures and wild heather moorlands with spectacular views of the valleys from the rising hills. This idea was not met with much enthusiasm and with perfectly good reasons.

Sundays are never the best times to go to the Peak District. Roadside parking spaces are quickly snapped up by the enthusiastic middle classes whose past times include early morning commune with nature in their Regatta outfits, walking poles and hiking boots. When we got there just after nine in the morning, we had to circle around to find a free space but even that was due to luck as we have a small car that can squeeze in when others can’t.

But perhaps the bigger reason was the state of my driving which even I am still nervous about. It has taken me an expensive nearly two years of weekly driving lessons with a very patient instructor to pass my driving exams at my second attempt while I was on the 37th week of pregnancy. John thinks I have charmed my way to get it, judging by my poor subsequent performances on the driver’s seat, which resulted to more weekend driving lessons (with a not-so-patient-instructor) involving uphill junctions, 20mph streets and circular routes. It wasn’t much fun so I suggested that on last week’s lesson, we should hit two birds with one stone: a driving lesson and a day out.

It was supposed to be easy: a quiet road with maximum speed limit of 50mph, so I started off with a lot of confidence. But there is never an easy route in Britain where you share the road with groups of cyclists hogging the road instead of their designated cycle paths, impatient drivers overtaking close to incoming bends and over-speeding motorcyclists signing their own death sentence. Add the fact that you never really see where you are going because the roads are never straight. But when we arrived at our destination without a scratch in the car, I was congratulating myself. My passengers though would tell a different story.

When we approached the reservoir, a wisp of mist was still hovering over the treetops but it didn't stay long. We parked closed to Ashopton Bridge and crossed the viaduct to the direction of Bamford, admiring the stunning view of the hills covered with woodlands in its autumnal glory, beautifully reflected in the calm water. We walked the length of the dam towards the other side, taking plenty of photos along the way.

Day Out at Warwick Castle

February in Britain is a bleak time of the year when trees are bare of leaves and the sun barely comes out. This year was particularly bad, declared the wettest winter on record for England and Wales in almost 250 years, with villages in the South turned into islands secluded from the towns and cities sometimes accessible only by motorboats. But this time of the year could also be an ideal time to visit top attractions that are normally flooded with visitors in the summer and during Bank holidays. 

So early one February morning, when the sun was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds, we hit the motorway and headed to Warwick Castle, one of Britain's most visited sites. The journey took nearly two hours because of delays caused by roadworks but we got there just before one o'clock when the first drizzles of rain shower began to fall.

It was a very quiet day with no queues at the ticket office. A group of school children were on a school trip and a bus full of Chinese tourists were roaming the grounds. Inside the castle confines, there were only a handful of visitors that at times we found ourselves alone in the staterooms, an experience we certainly would not have during the high season. The pram was not allowed in so we had to carry our six-month-old around but this was not a problem. 

The medieval castle, founded in 1068 by William The Conqueror, has most of its magnificent towers and ramparts stunningly preserved. The Great Hall and the State Rooms would not win my vote for grandiosity if you compare it to other stately homes in the Peak District but they are well-maintained and interesting. The giant fireplace in the centre of the hall, supposed to keep the whole house warm, definitely got our attention. 

A fascinating part of the tour was 'Secrets and Scandals' (formerly The Royal Weekend) Exhibition, a delightful display of stately rooms which uses waxworks to make you feel you are a guest at the Earl of Warwick's home. The rooms, littered with many plates of afternoon tea lying around (not edible), are not roped off and we were free to look and walk around and be part of the party. The lifestyle of the upper classes was showcased with a hint of typical British sarcasm which I was afraid could have been lost in translation amongst some visitors. 

Afternoon tea: light meal eaten between 4pm and 6pm, a custom originated amongst the wealthy classes in England.

When we went out, the sun has already come out, and we decided to explore the grounds which was smaller than the map makes it out. We were not able to cross the bridge because the river was dangerously raging downstream with levels reaching almost as high as the water weir. We didn't also have the chance to see the towers and the dungeons. But we had a very enjoyable day and we will surely be back when Isaac can run around. 

P.S. The day trip can be quite expensive so we bought a packed lunch and ate it at the car park. Parking near the entrance is charged for the whole day which was rather costly. 

Summer Walk in Chatsworth

I'm embarrassed to admit, as much a seasoned traveller I now consider myself, I still take a guilty pleasure in visiting places I have seen in films or television dramas. 

One July midmorning, I imagined myself as Lizzie Bennet (the heavily pregnant version at least) taking a walk on the grounds of Pemberley in my long bright red frock and sandals with soles so thin it felt like I was walking barefoot. 

It was a clear day, still and golden, with blackberries ripe and luscious in the bramble bushes. The air is touched with a lazy fragrance of the hidden flowers underneath the tunnel of green, with trees that spread their forked boughs like a stag's antler above us. Further ahead, the intense blue of the noonday sky burst like jewel in the sun. 

Pemberley (of films and TV dramas) of course is Chatsworth House, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, set in the heart of the Peak District. Thirty minutes in the car from Sheffield, we didn't have to travel far when we woke up that morning to a sky that cried for a walk in the countryside. 

One of Britain's most visited historic properties, Chatsworth House stands magnificently in the east bank of the Derwent River with a backdrop of wooded, rocky hills rising to heather moorland. It's one of those places whose landscape transforms with the changing of the seasons and every single visit offers a pleasant surprise. 

This particular summer visit was exclusively for the five mile walk around the garden, up the 300 year old Cascade, finding the centre of the maze and strolling around the Emperor Lake with the enormous gravity-fed fountain where the best picture view of the house can be taken. And yes, there were plenty of photos indeed!