The Must See Spain Blog
 A Traveler's Guide
by Kristin Espinar

Malaga starts early and leans into the day. It’s a city that gives you texture without pushing it—stone underfoot, heat on your back, something cold in your hand when you need it. With just 24 hours to work with, this guide doesn’t aim for perfection. It follows how a day actually unfolds here: with pauses, detours, and the occasional surprise. From humid mornings and slow cafes to fortress views and tiled baths, this is one full, clear-eyed day in Malaga—paced by instinct, not itinerary.

Segovia sits in the high plains of central Spain like it’s been waiting. The kind of place where the buildings still do what they were built to do—hold weight, frame quiet, cast long shadows in the afternoon. No one polished the stone to please visitors. It’s just there, worn smooth where hands and feet and weather have worked on it for centuries.

You arrive, and it looks straightforward: a Roman aqueduct, a castle that seems one gust of wind away from flight, a handful of churches, old houses, steep streets. But move a little slower, and details start to emerge. A window shutter with chipped paint. A butcher sweeping out his doorway. Locals ducking into a bar at noon for wine and something fried. Segovia isn’t performing. It’s just existing, and you’re lucky to pass through.

This guide isn’t about big reveals. It’s for travelers who notice small things. Who like their cities with a bit of edge, a lot of history, and no need to explain themselves. If you’re wondering what to do in Segovia, start by showing up curious—and take it from there.

In a region where beach towns often blur together, Nerja, Spain stands apart. It doesn’t need neon signs or big-name hotels to get your attention. Instead, it offers something quieter, something slower—and something you just might carry with you long after you leave. Nestled between rugged mountains and the calm of the Mediterranean Sea, Nerja holds onto the kind of charm that feels personal.

This is a place where the past is still visible—in the narrow streets, the centuries-old churches, the daily rituals. But it’s not stuck in time. It’s growing, balancing locals and visitors with a kind of grace that many places have lost.

I first tasted Spain the way it’s meant to be tasted—standing, sweating, and a little lost in a side-street bar in Granada. A toothpick jabbed through a chunk of salt cod landed next to my beer. I hadn’t asked for it, didn’t question it, I ate it, and something shifted. The food didn’t whisper. It barked. It didn’t care if I was ready—it was already halfway down my throat. Spanish cuisine in Spain isn’t a curated dining experience—it’s survival with seasoning, ritual with smoke, pride served hot or cold depending on the region. It’s not built to impress you. It’s built to feed you like you belong—or don’t.

Mallorca, Spain. You’ve seen the pictures—turquoise coves, terracotta villages, olive trees twisted like arthritic dancers. Maybe you thought, “Too pretty to be real.” Fair. But here’s the thing: it is real. And it’s not just some glossy escape for yacht owners and influencers doing sponsored twirls in linen. Mallorca is deeper than that. More textured. It’s a place where the sea isn’t just blue—it’s moody, electric, and weirdly honest.

This isn’t a destination guide written in travel agency speak. This is what you need to know if you’re craving something real in Mallorca: where to go, what to avoid, how to stay smart, and how to leave with stories instead of just pictures.