Going away for the festive season has left me with unforgettable memories, from a boat trip with Bangladeshi fishermen to exploring Castro’s Cuban hideout
I
have made a point of escaping Christmas for as long as I can remember. Not escaping for Christmas, but avoiding it altogether – the stressful buildup, consumer chaos, panic buying, the enforced jollity and parties. When the first festive gifts start appearing in the shops in September, it’s time to confirm my travel plans, ideally to include New Year’s Eve as well.
Sometimes I travel independently, but more often in a group, and while it’s not always possible to avoid the tinsel and baubles – even in non-Christian countries thousands of miles away – I just relish not being at home at this time of year.
It’s not that I crave a week in the sun, although the Canaries or Madeira always appeal. My favourite Spanish city of Granada is a regular escape for Christmas, for despite the surprisingly cold temperatures compared with the Costa del Sol, the skies are always a dazzling blue, so I never tire of a stroll up to the Alhambra. I always stay high up in the Albaicín, the old Moorish quarter, where a walk along the winding, narrow, cobbled streets feels as it might have during the middle ages. I like the fact that even on Christmas Eve the squares are full of locals eating and drinking, wrapped up well in blankets and coats. The Spanish do love eating outside in all weathers.
