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. 🦑

Caganer

This little shopfront stops almost everyone in their tracks — because standing right at the entrance is a figurine doing something… very un-souvenir-like.

What you’re looking at is a caganer, one of Catalonia’s most unexpected and beloved traditions.

The caganer (from the Catalan verb cagar, “to poop”) is a small figurine traditionally depicted squatting with trousers down. For centuries, he has been placed discreetly in Catalan nativity scenes, usually hidden somewhere at the back among the fields. While it may look cheeky or even shocking at first, the meaning behind it is surprisingly wholesome.

Historically, the caganer symbolises fertility, renewal, and good fortune. In an agrarian society, fertilising the land was essential for good harvests — so the act represents abundance, prosperity, and the cycle of life. Far from being rude, a nativity scene without a caganer was once considered bad luck.

Over time, this humble squatting figure evolved from a simple peasant into a cultural icon. Today, you’ll find caganers in all forms: traditional farmers, politicians, footballers, pop stars, and cartoon characters — all rendered in the same unmistakable pose. Shops like this one in Barcelona proudly celebrate the tradition, turning it into both folk art and playful social commentary.

Seen through modern eyes, the caganer perfectly captures Catalonia’s sense of humour: irreverent, down-to-earth, and unafraid to poke fun at authority — or at life itself. It’s a reminder that even in sacred or serious moments, there’s room for humanity, laughter, and a little earthiness.

So yes, it’s funny. Yes, it’s bold.
But more than that, the caganer is a tiny squatting symbol of luck, history, and Catalan identity — unapologetically doing its thing, right at the doorway.

Somewhere between folklore and fun sits this tiny caganer mouse — small in size, big in personality. He may be doing something undignified, but he carries with him wishes of luck, abundance, and a wink from Catalonia’s mischievous soul.

Tart Meets Art

No tour to Lisbon would be complete if you haven’t tried the legendary pastéis de nata from Pastéis de Belém.

Outside the pastry shop, two queues stretched endlessly—one for dining in, the other for takeaway. Our guide spared us the wait, ordering boxes to-go for all thirty of us.

While everyone clustered outside, tarts in hand, I slipped inside to find the toilets—and stopped in my tracks.

I went in expecting a restroom and found something closer to a tiled gallery.

The toilet stalls are wrapped in blue-and-white azulejos, their intricate floral patterns flowing seamlessly from door to door. Each cubicle looks less like a stall and more like a porcelain panel from a museum—elegant, deliberate, almost ceremonial.

Inside Pastéis de Belém, the azulejos quietly steal the show.

Blue-and-white tiles line the walls everywhere—along dining rooms, corners, sinks, even the spaces you barely notice at first. Some tell small stories, others repeat familiar patterns of flowers, birds, and boats. Nothing flashy. Just layers of detail that slowly draw you in.

Of course, I couldn’t resist. I took photos, trying to capture that quiet moment of beauty before stepping back into the bustle.

Through a glass partition, visitors can watch skilled pastry chefs roll, fill, and bake the tarts in a rhythm honed over generations. The aroma of caramelizing custard and buttery pastry drifts out, offering a sensory glimpse into the meticulous craftsmanship behind each iconic pastel.

The magic in full view. 

A few fun and fascinating facts that make this place special:

• Baking here dates back to 1837, next to the Jerónimos Monastery.

• The recipe originated with monks who once lived there.

• The secret recipe is still fiercely guarded and prepared in a sealed room.

• Only tarts made here can officially be called Pastéis de Belém—all others are pastéis de nata.

• They bake thousands daily, fresh in constant batches.

• Locals eat them warm, with cinnamon and powdered sugar.

Funny how I went in looking for a restroom and walked out with photos, goosebumps, and the sense that Portugal had just revealed itself—quietly, beautifully, and through a custard tart.

The Rooster of Barcelos

I first noticed these colourful rooster figurines in the souvenir shops in Lisbon and honestly thought they had something to do with Nando’s. It was only when our local guide pointed them out that I learned they are actually the national symbol of Portugal.

And there’s a fascinating legend behind this cheerful little rooster.

The famous Rooster of Barcelos (Portuguese: Galo de Barcelos) comes from a medieval tale. Long ago, a pilgrim was passing through Barcelos on his way to Santiago de Compostela when he was wrongly accused of theft and sentenced to hang.

Desperate to prove his innocence, he begged to see the judge, who happened to be enjoying a roasted rooster for dinner. The pilgrim pointed to the bird and declared, “I am innocent — and to prove it, that rooster will crow when I am on the gallows.” Everyone laughed…

But just as the execution was about to happen, the roasted rooster stood up and crowed loudly. The shocked judge rushed to stop the hanging, and the pilgrim was saved just in time.

Today, that colourful rooster has become a symbol of faith, justice, and good luck — and you can find it absolutely everywhere in Portugal: on coasters, plaques, aprons, magnets, mugs, tiles, and almost anything you can imagine.

Day 11: Madrid

Our final day was spent exploring the vibrant streets of Madrid, a city that feels both grand and full of life. From elegant plazas and lively markets to charming tiled corners and sunny terraces, every stop was a reminder of Spain’s irresistible spirit.

SNAPSHOTS OF MADRID

Four Seasons Hotel

Our guide stopped at Puerta del Sol to show us a small bronze plaque on the ground — Kilómetro Cero, the very center of Spain, marking the point from which all distances in Spain are measured. She said that if you step inside the circle, it means you’ll return to Madrid one day. Of course, we couldn’t resist stepping in — just to make sure! 

A brief walking tour with our guide led us to Mercado de San Miguel — a feast for the senses! 🍤🧀🍷

From juicy tapas and fresh seafood to irresistible pastries and sangria, every corner of this historic market was pure temptation. If only I could taste everything in one visit! 

LUNCH @ CASA DE VALENCIA

Our last meal in Spain

This handsome waiter brought out a huge pan of steaming paella for us to admire — and of course, we all wanted photos! As we took turns posing, he muttered with a hint of impatience, “It’s heavy, you know.” 😅 Still, the golden rice and sizzling seafood were worth every second of his effort — and ours! 🍤🥘

 

All good things come to an end…

Our last day in this sun-drenched corner of the world was bittersweet. After weeks of wandering through tiled streets, sunlit plazas, and storybook towns — and countless pastéis de nata and churros from hotel breakfast buffets every single morning (always telling myself “just one more”) — it was finally time to say adiós and até logo.

With lunch behind us, our tour leader thoughtfully planned a stop at El Corte Inglés, Spain’s iconic department store — perfectly timed for a red-eye flight back to Kuala Lumpur. Some of us went in search of last-minute treasures, while others relaxed in the comfort of the VIP lounge, grateful for a quiet pause before the long journey home.

Now the bags are packed, the souvenirs safely tucked away, and my heart feels full — of laughter, tapas, sangria, and a thousand little moments I’ll never forget.

Spain and Portugal have a way of growing on you — and I hope I’ll be back someday. ❤️