Our journey through Spain began in the vibrant city of Barcelona, where we arrived after a long flight via London, exhausted but eager to explore. True to our backpacker spirit, we opted for the bus over a taxi to our hostel, navigating the crowded public transport with full backpacks — a delicate balance of trying not to send a fellow passenger flying!

Our destination was Plaça de Catalunya, conveniently close to our hostel, but the challenge was finding the right direction. Alex, having visited Barcelona before, was confident he knew the way. With me trailing behind, we circled the square multiple times in the sweltering sun until finally spotting a familiar landmark and darting down a side alley — an early indication of what would become a recurring theme in our travels.

Our accommodation was a simple apartment within Hostel Itaca, featuring four double rooms with a shared kitchen and bathroom. The location was ideal, nestled close to the bustling Las Ramblas and within the atmospheric Barri Gòtic, or Gothic Quarter. The convenience of a kitchen was essential for us, especially with Barcelona’s incredible food markets offering fresh local produce that begged to be cooked and savoured.

Barcelona is a city that invites exploration. We walked for miles, soaking in the sights, with the Sagrada Família remaining my absolute favourite. Antoni Gaudí’s masterpiece, still under construction after more than a century, is a breathtaking fusion of Gothic and Art Nouveau styles. Its intricate facades and towering spires are like nothing else in the world, a testament to Gaudí’s extraordinary imagination.

We also explored the historic harbour, following the route of the ancient Roman walls that once encircled the city, and spent time in a beautiful palm-fringed square where history and modernity seemed to blend seamlessly.

Despite its beauty, Barcelona had its downsides, the most noticeable being the pervasive smell of urine, especially in the summer heat. It was a fairly constant reminder that even the most picturesque cities have their flaws.

On our second day, the miles of walking took their toll. I woke with blisters on the soles of my feet, a painful consequence of prioritising fashion over function when choosing walking sandals that matched my backpack.

But with our next destination calling there was no time to dwell on discomfort. We boarded a train to Perpignan, just over the border in France, sharing the journey with a group of American students who seemed blissfully unaware of precisely where they were in Europe.

Our journey north included an unexpected passport check at the border, a reminder that despite the European Union’s increasingly open borders, old habits sometimes linger.

After some time in France, we re-entered Spain with friends for a week-long road trip through the Pyrenees and northern Spain. Our first stop was the charming town of Aínsa, a beautifully preserved medieval village perched on a hilltop.

The town’s ancient stone walls and narrow cobbled streets transport you back in time, while its elevated position provides wonderful views across the surrounding mountains and rivers. Aínsa’s history stretches back many centuries and its remarkably intact old town remains one of the most attractive historic settlements in this part of the Pyrenees.

From Aínsa we continued to Jaca, a town steeped in history and dominated by its distinctive pentagonal citadel. Built during the 16th century as part of Spain’s northern defences, the fortress is one of the town’s most recognisable landmarks.

Jaca’s old centre, with its mixture of historic architecture and narrow streets, was equally interesting and we spent our time wandering through town and sampling the local food.

One memorable experience was trying the area’s apple cider. It had a distinctive tangy flavour which, while undoubtedly traditional, was not something I felt any urgent need to experience twice.

Our journey then took us to San Sebastián, a city renowned for its beaches, food and cultural life. Unfortunately our visit coincided with a massive storm that brought torrential rain, soaking the city and making sightseeing considerably less appealing.

To make matters worse, the town seemed to be full of large groups of British men on stag weekends, turning what should have been a relaxing seaside stop into something rather more chaotic.

The pintxos that San Sebastián is famous for were, in our opinion, both overpriced and overrated. Between the weather, the crowds and the food failing to live up to expectations, we decided one night was quite enough and moved on.

As we made our way back towards France, we spent a night in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, a picturesque fortified town sitting at the base of the Pyrenees.

The town is one of the traditional starting points for the French route of the Camino de Santiago, the pilgrimage trail that has carried travellers across northern Spain for centuries. One of our friends had begun their own Camino journey from here a few years earlier, which gave the visit a little more meaning for us.

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port is undeniably beautiful, although its position on the Camino means it is also highly touristed and noticeably more expensive than many of the quieter towns we had passed through.