The Roofless Nave

During our whirlwind tour of Lisbon, we only had a few minutes to see the Convento do Carmo from the outside, but even that glimpse was unforgettable. Those roofless Gothic arches open to the sky instantly give off this mysterious, almost haunted vibe.

The roofless church of the Convento do Carmo, now the Carmo Archaeological Museum, overlooking Largo do Carmo in Lisbon.

The convent’s history is tragic. On November 1, 1755, the devastating Lisbon earthquake struck during mass, killing many worshippers inside. The roof and much of the structure collapsed, and the nave was never rebuilt. While the practical challenges of reconstruction played a role, leaving it open to the sky eventually became a powerful memorial, reminding everyone of the lives lost and the earthquake’s destruction.

Locals say the ghosts of monks and nuns still linger, wandering through the ruins at night. Some visitors even report hearing whispers or spotting shadowy figures among the arches.

Even though I didn’t get to explore inside, I was fascinated by the haunting atmosphere and the history that clings to every stone. The open arches make it feel as if the building itself is keeping watch over centuries of stories—both real and spooky.

Our guide regaled us with the convent’s ghostly legends, making the ruins feel even more mysterious. 👻

Ghostly Legends of Convento do Carmo

👻 1. The Souls of All Saints’ Day
The earthquake struck during mass that morning. Many locals believe the spirits of those who died remain tied to the convent. Visitors sometimes report a heavy silence or a strange “presence” when standing under the arches at dusk.

👻 2. The Wandering Monks
Folklore says Carmelite monks who once lived in the convent still walk the cloisters. One of the most repeated legends says that the ghost of a monk wanders through the arches at night. After the destruction during the 1755 Lisbon earthquake, many monks died or were displaced, and visitors and night guards have reported hearing faint chanting, soft footsteps, or seeing shadowy figures moving along the stone arcades.

👻 3. The Whispering Walls
Some visitors say the ruined walls seem to “carry whispers.” Guides sometimes tell tourists that if you stand quietly inside the nave at dusk, you may hear faint murmurs — supposedly the voices of people who died when the roof collapsed during the earthquake.

👻 4. Strange Cold Spots
Security staff and nighttime photographers have reported sudden cold patches inside the ruins, especially near the old altar area. Paranormal enthusiasts believe these may be signs of lingering spirits.

👻 5. The Nun in White
Another legend speaks of a pale woman in white occasionally seen near the entrance after dark. Some say she was a nun from the convent who still keeps watch over the church.

👻 6. The Guardian Spirit
Another tale suggests that the convent’s founder, Nuno Álvares Pereira—a knight who later became a monk—never truly left. His spirit is said to guard the ruins, protecting them from further destruction.

👻 7. The Earthquake Spirits
Because thousands died across Lisbon during the 1755 disaster, some locals believe the ruins of Convento do Carmo act almost like a memorial where restless spirits linger. The ruined arches reaching toward the sky only add to the haunting atmosphere.

Since we only saw it from the outside, I’m sharing a couple of photos from the internet so you can glimpse the stunning ruins for yourself.

Photo source : https://www.lisbonportugaltourism.com/guide/convento-do-carmo.html

The skeletal remains of the building still stand as a haunting memorial.

 Even as I stood outside looking up at the roofless church, it was hard not to imagine what the scene inside the nave must have been like on that morning of November 1, 1755 — a church full of worshippers attending mass when suddenly the earth began to shake and the roof came crashing down. It’s an image that’s difficult to shake from your mind.

La Giralda

Seville’s iconic Giralda Tower is more than just a stunning landmark—it’s a living testament to the city’s layered history. Originally built in the 12th century as the minaret of a mosque, it guided worshippers with its call to prayer, long before Seville became a Christian stronghold. After the Reconquista, the mosque was converted into the Seville Cathedral, and the Giralda was adapted as its bell tower, blending Islamic and Renaissance architecture in a striking fusion.

At its pinnacle stands the Giraldillo, a bronze weather vane shaped like a woman holding a palm branch and shield. Symbolizing Faith, she has gracefully turned with the wind for centuries, silently watching over the city since the 16th century—a steadfast guardian connecting Seville’s past and present.

The Giralda is full of quirky and fascinating tidbits. Here are some fun facts:

1) No stairs, just ramps! – The tower was built with 35 gentle ramps instead of stairs, so that riders on horseback (or mules) could ascend all the way to the top. Imagine galloping to the bell tower!

2) Height record – When it was completed in the 16th century, the Giralda was one of the tallest towers in the world, standing at 104 meters (341 feet). It remained the tallest in Seville for centuries.

3) Wind chariot – The Giraldillo weather vane is not just decorative; it spins with the wind and is cleverly balanced like a small bronze chariot, making it almost magical to watch on windy days.

4) Islamic meets Renaissance – The lower two-thirds of the tower are from the original Almohad minaret, while the upper section and belfry were added later in Renaissance style. It’s like a history lesson in stone.

5) Secret passages – The ramps were wide enough for animals, but also allowed priests and bell-ringers to carry heavy items up and down—no elevators, just clever engineering!

6) Giraldillo inspiration – Its name actually comes from the Spanish verb girar (“to turn”), referring to the bronze figure that turns with the wind. It’s basically the world’s oldest rooftop weather girl!

The Statue That Wasn’t

At first glance, we thought it was just another statue in the square. We walked past it without giving it much thought.It was only when we came by the same spot a second time that we realised it wasn’t a statue at all — it was a busker, perfectly posing as a living statue.

This photo was taken at Ribeira Square, where the square is usually full of chatter, music, and the occasional sound of fado drifting out from nearby cafés. In the middle of all that bustle, he sat completely still, painted head to toe and blending into the street scene.

Tourists would walk past, hesitate, then suddenly laugh when he gave a small movement — maybe a tilt of the head or a slow mechanical wave — just enough to remind everyone he was very much alive.

And right behind him stood that bright red telephone booth, looking like a tiny piece of London dropped into Porto.

Quirky, playful, charming… totally Porto.

The Devil's Last Stone

Rising dramatically above the streets of Segovia, the ancient Roman aqueduct is one of Spain’s most iconic landmarks. Its perfectly aligned stones, stretching for over 800 meters and standing tall without mortar, are a marvel of engineering. Yet among its seemingly flawless structure, one stone is conspicuously missing — a small gap that has sparked curiosity and legend for centuries. Beyond its historical grandeur, the aqueduct carries a story whispered in the city’s alleys and squares — a tale of desperation, cunning, and a pact with the devil.

The Legend Behind the Stones

Long before the aqueduct brought water to the heart of Segovia, the city’s residents faced a daily struggle. Water had to be hauled uphill from distant springs, a task particularly grueling for young women who carried heavy jugs along steep, winding streets.

According to local folklore, one such young water carrier grew so weary of her labor that she exclaimed, in frustration, that she would give anything if water could come to her doorstep.

Her words, it is said, summoned the devil himself, who offered a bargain: he would build an aqueduct overnight to bring water to the city — in exchange for the young woman’s soul. Desperate and tired, she agreed.

The devil and his helpers toiled furiously through the night, stacking stones and crafting arches in impossible precision. Yet as dawn approached, the rooster crowed, and the last stone remained unplaced. The devil had failed. Because the task was unfinished before the first crow, he lost his claim to the young woman’s soul.

Marks of Myth — and Mastery

Walk beneath the aqueduct’s arches and you’ll notice tiny holes and irregular marks on the stones. Legend says these are the devil’s footprints or claw marks — evidence of his frustration and failed pact.

The reality is just as fascinating: those holes were made by lifting clamps, or “claw-like hooks,” used by Roman builders to move and position the massive granite blocks. Workers would attach these metal clamps to the stones, lift them into place, and then remove them — leaving behind the holes that generations later sparked a story of a thwarted devil.

Today, Segovia honors this captivating legend with a sculpture of the city’s little devil — the mischievous ‘architect’ behind the aqueduct. The figure depicts the defeated devil clutching the final stone that was never set, capturing a cheeky snapshot of himself alongside his unfinished work.

Estatua del diablo Segodeus

So, whether you believe in deals with the devil or marvel at Roman engineering, walking beneath Segovia’s towering arches is to feel history and myth intertwined. Every stone tells a story — some real, some imagined — and in Segovia, even legends leave a mark.

The Magpie Room

Most visitors to Sintra rush straight to the colorful hilltop palaces — especially Pena Palace — but right in the historic center stands another royal residence that quietly holds some of the best stories.

The elegant Sintra National Palace may look fairly restrained from the outside, but inside one of its rooms hides a ceiling filled with gossip, humor, and a very clever king.

                                image source - https://www.roadtripsaroundtheworld.com/

According to legend, John I of Portugal was once caught by his queen, Philippa of Lancaster, giving a playful kiss to one of her ladies-in-waiting in the palace. As expected in a royal court, the incident quickly became the subject of whispers among the ladies.

The king’s response? Pure medieval public relations.

To silence the gossip, he ordered the ceiling of the room to be painted with 136 magpies — one for every lady of the court. Each bird holds a banner in its beak with the words “Por bem” (“For good” or “With good intentions”), the king’s way of declaring that the kiss was entirely harmless.

The choice of bird was no accident. In Portuguese culture, magpies are associated with chatter and gossip, making the ceiling both a joke and a gentle warning.

Look closely and you’ll also notice many magpies holding a rose, a subtle nod to the red rose of Lancaster — the symbol of Queen Philippa’s English royal house.

image source - Wikimedia Commons 

A scandal turned into ceiling art. Medieval damage control at its finest.

The Narrowest Building In Madrid

Our guide pointed out the building with the word CODO as one of the narrowest buildings in Madrid.

Casa de Calderón de la Barca, located at Calle Mayor 61 in the city’s historic centre, is known for its extremely slim façade — only about 14.3 feet wide — and for having been the former home of the renowned Spanish playwright Pedro Calderón de la Barca in the 17th century.Buildings like this exist because Madrid developed organically over centuries. In the medieval period, land was divided into irregular plots, and construction filled even the narrowest gaps, allowing these unusual structures to survive as part of Madrid’s historic streetscape.

Ten Mornings of Churros: A Sweet Spanish Ritual

There’s something irresistibly charming about starting the day in Spain with a plate of freshly fried churros. Throughout our ten days, wherever we stayed, the hotel buffet breakfast always featured them—golden, ridged sticks of dough, crispy on the outside, soft and airy on the inside—a sweet ritual we never tired of.In Madrid, it’s almost a rite of passage to dip them into thick, velvety hot chocolate at a traditional churrería, and seeing them at breakfast felt like a little local tradition brought right to our table. What makes churros so special isn’t just their texture; it’s the simple joy of watching them come steaming from the fryer, still warm, and feeling that chocolate envelope your fingers and taste buds.

Some regions have their own twist: in Barcelona, they might be dusted with cinnamon sugar, while in Andalucía, churros are often thinner and paired with a café con leche. Beyond breakfast, churros are a social experience—a reason to linger, chat, and savor the little pleasures of Spanish life. Ten days of mornings spent with them reminded us that sometimes the best things in life are simple, sweet, and meant to be shared.

TWO FRIED DOUGHS, TWO STORIES

Across cultures, the same idea appears: flour, water, hot oil — but the stories couldn’t be more different.

Food historians believe the technique of frying long strips of dough may have traveled west via Portuguese traders returning from China. In Europe, the idea was adapted, sweetened, and reshaped — eventually becoming the churros we know today.

• One popular legend says churros were invented by Spanish shepherds who fried simple dough over open fires while tending flocks in the mountains. The ridged shape is said to resemble the curled horns of the native Churra sheep.

• Fried dough has very different stories elsewhere. In China, yóutiáo carries a much darker legend. According to folklore, it was created as a symbolic punishment for the traitor Qin Hui, who betrayed the loyal general Yue Fei. Angry citizens joined two strips of dough side by side to represent Qin Hui and his wife, then fried the dough in hot oil — a metaphor for hellfire and a lasting warning of the fate that awaits traitors.

yóutiáo

The Hidden Tiles of Toledo’s Jewish Quarter

I wandered through the winding lanes of Toledo’s Jewish Quarter without expecting anything in particular. Then I noticed something small underfoot — tiny metal tiles set into the cobblestones, little squares marked with the Star of David, the menorah, and other symbols I didn’t immediately recognise.

They were easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. But once I spotted the first one, I began seeing them everywhere. It felt as though the city was quietly acknowledging the people who once lived, worked, and prayed here, leaving subtle reminders scattered along the streets. 

Before this trip, I knew very little about Spain’s Jewish history. These modest markers became my introduction — simple, respectful symbols that made me slow down, look closer, and reflect on how deeply the Sephardic community once shaped Toledo. 

It wasn’t a grand museum exhibit or a guided explanation. Just a humble presence embedded in the streets themselves, a reminder that history is often right beneath your shoes — if you take the time to notice it.

Installed around 2012 by the Toledo City Council as part of a heritage and tourism initiative, these tiles are embedded throughout the Jewish Quarter to help define its historic boundaries, mark significant paths and locations, and honour the Sephardic Jewish community that once flourished here. With more than 500 markers set into pavements and walls, they serve as quiet reminders that Toledo’s history is layered — and that much of it can still be found underfoot.

Bocadillo de Calamares

When in Madrid, our local guide insisted we try the famously salty squid sandwich — a tradition that comes from the old days, when salting was the way to preserve seafood, and the flavour still lives on today. 

No visit to Madrid is complete without a Bocadillo de Calamares — the city’s beloved sandwich of crisp, freshly fried squid tucked into a warm, crusty roll. Simple, salty, and deeply satisfying, it’s one of Madrid’s most iconic bites.

A simple, hearty sandwich that locals proudly claim as their own, it is  made with a crusty Spanish barra de pan, sliced open and packed with golden, freshly fried rings of calamari. The squid is typically dusted in flour and fried in olive oil until crisp, and some places add a drizzle of olive oil, a touch of alioli, or a squeeze of lemon for extra flavour.

Despite its simplicity, it hits all the right notes — perfect for breakfast, lunch, a quick snack, or even a late-night bite. In Madrid, you’ll spot people eating it right at the bar or enjoying it outdoors in the sunshine, especially around Plaza Mayor, where the bocadillo de calamares has become a true city tradition.

We spotted one at Mercado de San Miguel — dangerously close to our scheduled paella lunch. Sensible travellers might have waited, but it was our last day in Spain and we were probably never coming back unless by some windfall. 

My verdict? 

Salty? ✅ Crunchy? ✅ Sacrificed stomach space for paella? ✅ — no regrets. 🦑