Highway To Hell

Nearly 15 years ago I was on a family holiday in Portugal and we had to take a coach from Faro airport to our hotel. On the way we passed rolling green hills and tiny communities in the middle of absolute nowhere. Travelling from Barcelona to Valencia, is exactly the same. In the UK, fields are regimented and it’s easy to distinguish different fields but here its more a case of organised chaos with no defining line but more just segments appearing every so often.
The reason this blog post is called Highway To Hell is because the further south we got, the hotter it got. When I boarded the bus at 10am, it was a comfortable 20° but as we drove it slowly rose up to about 26° which isn’t too bad but not the most pleasant when you’re stuck on a bus.
When I got off the bus, I followed my map towards the hostel, the majority of my journey was spent walking through a massive park with green spaces everywhere. Once I had checked in, I popped to the local supermarket and picked up a few things then went and sat in the park. Found myself a little spot in the shade and relaxed for a bit. After the last few days in blistering heat, I fancied a bit of a change.

After putting my shopping away, I headed for a little walk around the local area and came across an old Palace. There’s only ruins now but you can still see where it stood and the notations surround it to give more information.

In the gardens behind this is a large pond hosting a lot of local bird life and there’s also a display on some of the world’s biggest and/or most extravagant mountains including Ayers Rock, Matterhorn and of course, Everest.

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