From Córdoba, Andalucía
Reflecting on the photos I took inside the Mezquita, there’s an unmistakable feeling that, no matter from what angle you stand you just can’t quite capture the overwhelming sense of awe that you get upon first entering and being greeted by a sea of perfect red and white arches.

You can travel from the Celtic Sea to the Caspian Sea and from the Straits of Gibraltar to the Gulf of Finland and you won't find anything quite like it in all of Europe.

From Sierras Subbéticas, Andalucia
This is the Andalucía I'd come to love. Peaceful olive groves with the nets of harvesters spread out below centuries-old trees. Shadowy hills and pointy peaks rising up in the distance with a white village perched below like an oasis in a desert. Wild mushrooms growing underneath holm oaks. Stone farmhouses decaying like dying oak trees.

I unpacked my picnic, found a shady spot and lingered long in the moment.

From Sierras Subbéticas, Andalucía
Under a blue Andalucían sky, we traversed sunny olive groves and walked past quince, almond and pomegranate trees on our way to the little white village of Almedinilla.

That night, as Davinia - a devotee of the Slow Food movement - proudly ran through each ingredient of each course, their fruits would reappear on my dinner plate. All so fresh, so organic and so locally-sourced that I could have picked them myself as I walked.

From Sierras Subbéticas, Andalucia
We found a great picnic spot, with large, flat rocks which we improvise as tables and chairs and sweeping views out towards La Tiñosa - Córdoba's highest peak - and the walled town Priego de Córdoba perched on a plateau.

As Tim and I took our places in the sun, Xabi instead went off in search of shade, prefering to basically eat in a shrub.

From Sierras Subbéticas, Andalucia
As we walked, we collected up last season's cornicabras - the gulls of the turpentine tree. They get their name from their distinctive form; goat (cabra) horn (cuerno).

Turns out, when these oddities dry up, they smell great when you burn them - hence their name 'incienso de campesino' - incense of the peasant. Their warm, bonfire-like smell has fragranced our Brighton office ever since I brought back a fistful of them.

From Granada, Andalucía
I told owner Antonio that I wanted to give a standing ovation at every break. He smiled and said "me too, we only invite the best dancers. It's a privilege to watch them." Indeed, the guitarist had just won a national contest, the female dancer came second.

To see world class flamenco up close in Granada, come here. Or as Antonio says "you can go up to the caves and have a very different experience, here it is just flamenco, flamenco, flamenco."