Buying hash Manarola

__________________________

📍 Verified store!

📍 Guarantees! Quality! Reviews!

__________________________

▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼

▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲

Buying hash Manarola

Sort By Best Match Rating. Valentina Gluten Free. Reported to be dedicated gluten-free. Bella Napoli. Wow Emotional Food. La Rana Golosa. Il Trittico. Sorbetteria Gelateria 5 Terre. Gluten Free Shop. Il Discovolo La Spezia. La Pitonetta. Origami House. La Pia Centenaria. Fior di Cono. Beach Bar Stella Marina. Pizzeria Lavenza. Ale's Pizza. Lunch Box. La Virata. Gelateria Manarola. Gelateria Vernazza. Al Quadrato. Pizzeria La Smorfia. Gelateria l'Isola. Gelateria Tutto Gelato. Moretto Lady. Gelateria Yogurteria Crepes E Granite. Ristorante Vulnetia. Nuova Pizzeria Gli Angeli. Gelateria Giuliana. Gelateria Corniglia. Panificio senza glutine Malatesta. Alberto Gelateria. Creperia Piadineria Da Paolo. Cecio Ristorante Camere. Theobroma Nanus. Gelateria Yogurteria Il Golosone. Fritto e pizza da Sandro. Ananasso Bar. Full Screen Map.

Coming up: the rise of gourmet cannabis cuisine

Buying hash Manarola

The sun had almost completed its journey for that day. Just another one for it and an unforgettable one for me. It had nothing but the seize of a palm left to shine light and as I looked around, towards the huge umbrella acacias, I thought: if only I could stay like this forever, with my zebra print bracelet made of camel bone on the left wrist and the red beaded one from mama Masai on the right, with the image of the three lionesses resting in the golden grass, by the palm trees near the swamp, the 24 elephants crossing the path in a cloud of dust, the sleeping hyenas and the hypos in the swamp of Amboseli…. I wrote these lines a year ago, watching the sunset in Amboseli, at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro with its white peak of snow, at the end of a 7 days safari in Kenya because I wanted to be able to read it after and feel what I felt then: completeness. A safari in Africa was always a dream that seemed to big. Or should I say too expensive. After I came back from Puglia, Italy, in August, I was wandering online, looking for my second trip of last summer. Over two million animals migrate from Serengeti, in Tanzania, to the greener pastures of Maasai Mara, in Kenya. I remembered my reaction when I read on a website the animals that was guaranteed to see in each park. Lions were called abundant and guaranteed to see in Mara. It seemed a marketing line at that moment…. I bought the tickets 20 days before the departure and what followed was a marathon of emails and messages to a significant number of tour operators. I soon found out Kenia is not a cheap destinations when it comes to safari, but absolutely doable if you work enough to plan the trip. So I meet Rachel, the one that at the end of 37 emails in a week had me as her customer. I started from a 2 days safari and she got me sent the advance for a 7 days safari: Masai Mara, Amboseli, Nakuru. The plan was done, the reservations made, my safari wardrobe bought, plus a telephoto lens for my camera, the vaccine for yellow fever checked, the visa obtained. After the 7 days safari, I planned a few days on the coast, in Diani beach, close to Mombasa, for some relaxing beach time. Kenia was already giving me butterflies like no other destination before. After a few hours stop in a hot like hell Doha, I arrived in Nairobi at midday. My name written on a sheet of paper at the entrance was what I was looking for. Josea was my driver from the airport to my hotel. I was so excited and talkative and we became friends very quickly and by the time I reached the hotel we had the plan for that day. He needed extra money for his girl that needed a heart surgery in India and I needed to see Nairobi with a local. A 3m high concrete wall and an iron gate opened when we arrived. Three men with riffles came out and check the car, only after we were allowed to enter. I was going to find out that this is common in Kenia for places destinated to tourists. Welcome to Nairobi! First time here? I felt immediately as I landed in Nairobi what it feels like to feel different because of the color of your skin. As soon as I left the airport, I saw no other white people on the streets, in the cars, in the shops, in the markets. It felt strange. Josea and I we drove on the streets in Nairobi center that looked as if it could be placed in any other country: tall buildings of offices, large boulevards, parks, fountains, busy crossroads. Then we left the central area and continue until a sea of rusty roofs appeared out of nowhere. I was curious to see it the moment I read that there were walking tours organized there. Tours for white people in clean clothes to see the black in extreme poverty. But as a friend who came back from Mumbai once said, their poverty is more of a poverty then ours. Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world and the largest in Africa is home to, some say 1M, others 1. And so was the life in Kibera the day I was there and all the others that followed. It can be seen but will continue to be never understood by those who were offered more simply by birth. I left ashamed towards the people in Kibera we drove by that day. After I went quiet, as the street got more and more narrow and I saw the cobweb of streets that were only accessible by foot and that went deep into the heart of Kibera, from which I stole images of faces and little fragments of life scenes. I was just a passing view of a car with a white woman that day. But for me it was a thousand of perspective changing images. The Giraffe Centre, established to protect the endangered giraffe that is found only in the grasslands of East Africa, a place where you can feed the giraffes, was just closing. As we left, a warthog was crossing the little alley to the parking lot. This was my first encounter with the African wild life and got me head over flip-flops excited. Josea was amused by my reactions. Next, he had to stop the car by the road for the second encounter: a tree filled with marabou storks. I crossed a heavy circulated road just to get closer to a gate where I could see them better. It started to look like the Africa I was dreaming about. My phantasy of visiting this place and see the giraffes sneaking their heads on the windows and chewing bites on the plates on the beautifully arranged table, stayed a phantasy. Maybe some other time. As Josea started telling me about the fields of Mara packed with wild life, I instantly forgot about it. He took me after to a shop selling Maasai art. Those masks and mahogany sculptures were fantastic but all was very expensive. The one I wore after in every single day of that trip. Carnivore is the most famous restaurant in town. Opened since and included on the list of the best 50 restaurants in the world, the place is a heaven for meat eaters, with its all you can eat buffet and the huge round barbecue in the middle and a hell on earth for vegetarians. It used to be very exotic in terms of menu, in the past, until Kenia imposed a ban on game meat. It was packed with white tourists wearing safari outfits and the gates kept opening and the armed guards kept checking on the jeeps bringing the guests for that night. It was nice but too Westerner for the taste of someone like me, too hungry for the Kenyan culture. We entered a large covered terrace with white plastic tables and chairs. Nothing posh. All eyes turned to the entrance, to us. The clientele was entirely formed by locals. We stopped at the counter where a refrigerated display case was full with pieces of raw meat. I let Josea made the choice but as I saw him picking a piece of ribs with more bones then meat and not looking good at all, I started thinking that the biscuits I bought with me from home, for emergency reasons only, might be my dinner that evening. The meat was taken to the barbecue. I was so hungry… A lady came for the order and stayed for a conversation. We talk and talk and my dinner was no where to be seen. I started reaching my eyes for it every 5 minutes. When a tall men carrying a large plate approached our table, with a big piece of meat on it that was so hot it was still frying, spreading a steam of barbecue all around, I fixed my eyes on it. He cuts it into pieces and the lady brings a few bowls with cabbage salad, tomato, pepper and onion salad and a plate with the African polenta as I named it, only their ugali is white not yellow. The first bite totally changed my philosophy about food: it was the best, sweetest, juiciest, crunchiest barbecue I ever had. It absolutely confirmed all the rumours I have heard before about Africans the masters of barbecue. It was the perfect start of a week long safari in Kenya. The beach was the first place I went after 4 months of quarantine. That wide horizon, the endless sea where two shades of blue meet in the middle, far away, is the absolute definition of freedom. In normal times and even more in different times. And my beloved Europe has so many of my places, my favourite beaches, each one for its own reasons. I make a list of some of my favourite beaches in Europe discovered and enjoyed in 11 countries. The only place I was during one summer and went back the next one. And the first place I started to do beach hopping: more then 3 beaches in one day. First time I went to Ramla Bay , walked on the red soft sand and watched the waves as white lines on a cobalt blue sea, I called it my favourite beach in the world. I loved it so much I came back a year after. The turquoise waters, the ideal swim from one shore to the other, the calm waters, the white sand and the schools of fish I was swimming with makes The Blue Lagoon the most exotic beach in Europe. And one of my favourite places to swim. A morning walk with medieval scent in Dubrovnik followed by a cooling swim and beach time on Banje Beach. This place has much more to offer besides thousands o types of beer the best in the world and delicious chocolates. For a real cooling, head North until you meet the North Sea in Ostend. Mariakerke Beach , with orange sand and moody breeze where kids run barefoot even in winter months and where cold is not felt. And where the best mussels with fries are served in all restaurants on the long promenade. La bella Italia is always a good idea. I had the best swim in Marina Picola , in Capri, with the hypnotising Med blue and tens of yachts around, the scent of pine and the tztztztz song of the cicadas. Or should I call it the fanciest, on the island where people drink champagne in the port and on all the other terraces and the restaurants with white pianos behind translucent voiles moved by the breeze gives the island a heaven feel. I was so spoilt in Capri! Swim away from the shore in any of these places and admire the breathtaking views of the coast, with coloured houses, all that la grande bellezza. One of my favourite countries for all the reasons in the world, France , has one of the top summer destinations in Europe. The French Riviera, like its neighbour Italian Riviera, is a must go anytime. Though I consider Saint Tropez overrated, maybe because I was there without a car, helicopter and yacht, Pampelonne Beach beach has a few things to say to beach lovers. As the absolute playground for the rich and famous from all over the world, Pampelonne Beach has been the epicentre of glam, sparkle and shine ever since the 50s. Literally, this beach is a legend that has seen many stars on two feet wandering around. One I will always remember is a swim from sunset to full moon rise in Nice, by the famous Promenades des Anglais. For that and much more I will always vote for France in summer. Beach lovers are of many kinds, but two categories are the main ones: those who like to just lay on the sand all day long and do nothing more exhausting then sipping a lemonade and those who, the moment they see water, their heart starts pumping harder and no matter the outside temperatures, the sea is their playground. Scheveningen , the seaside resort close to The Hague, with its long sandy beach, an esplanade, a pier, and a lighthouse, is the playground for water-sports lovers that come here in great numbers for windsurfing and kiteboarding. No matter the season, it has the beach vibe I need after some time spent inland. When it comes to summer love and beach addiction, Greece is a top destination in the world. Sail there until you find its beauty, that where white houses meet the dark Mediterranean blue and where the breeze whispers legends of the Gods among bougainvillea pink flowers pouring down on white walls, where the therm instagrammable is defined and where each corner is made for a beautiful framed memory. Where my roots are coming from and where, hopefully, I can fly again for a few days until this summer ends. For me, Santorini is the representation of all I have ever dreamed about Greece. Not the ideal Greek island for beaches though. The Red Beach is curious but looks dangerous, with rocks ready to fall down on your head from the steep wall of rocks above. Perissa Beach on the other hand is lovely, with its black volcanic sand that gets so hot it burns your feet. From the sweet Porto wine and Fado music heard on narrow colourful streets in Lisbon in a hot August afternoon, to the fairytales castles up in Sintra and then down to its fabulous Algarve coast, with hidden beaches and the white houses in Albufeira, I carry Portugal in my heart forever. My favourite coast in Europe for the highest number of beaches and the most spectacular. Close to Lagos, Praia de Dona Ana is one of the most photographed but my most favourite is Praia de Camilo , with its 93 stairs down to a gorgeous beach. Close to Albufeira, one of the most picturesque beaches on Algarve coast, Praia da Marinha , with yellow sand, calm waters and with striking colourful cliff-sides and rocks raising up from the blue Atlantic waters. The best is Praia de Benagil , a beach inside a cave accessible only by sea, with turquoise waters touching the golden sand, two entrances from the ocean and an open roof with views to the blue sky on top. This beach is spectacular and will blow your mind. Portugal is the place I would go back 3 times every summer. And winter, to watch the best surfers in the world coming here to Nazare, on Praia do Norte, to ride the big waves and break the records. The biggest wave ever surfed till now happened in November in Nazare: 24,38m. Spoiled by the sun with long summers and caressed by the waves of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, Spain was my first summer destination abroad. Then brought back to reality by the Atlantic waves, never before seen so strong, making fun of everyone entering the waters, rolling people over the beach. I got sand deep into my soul after those whirlpools and laughter to remember a lifetime. I caught the last days of summer in September, right before it leaves Europe to move to further places on the beaches of Marbella and walk the Golden Mile from Puerto Banus to Marbella, 7,6km by the sea where you can lay your towel everywhere you please. I got stung by a Moon jellyfish and thought I just lost a finger judging by the stubbing pain. The best shades of blue and the softest sand meet the crazy parties at night and day in Mallorca. A beach in a delta gives a new sweet and salty and amazing perspective. If July and August in Europe seem too hot and some want to escape the heat and find a cold refuge in the North, the land of fire and ice, Iceland , has the place: Diamond Beach. It looks just as phenomenal as sparkling diamonds on black velvet. I smelled pot. Not like in Amsterdam but strong enough. In a few meters I saw where the smell was coming from. The street I entered was full of dealers with small stalls improvised where piles of different types of dry marijuana were waiting to make someone happy. I ignored the invitation. Was just one of the colourful sides of Copenhagen. I got the ticket three days before the flight. A chilly Friday morning in a city with deserted streets after the cold winter rain. The kind of welcome typical for the North that I so deeply love. With very little preparation since it was a last minute decision, I decided to see the city by going with the flow and see what happens. I took my camera and left the room from the hotel near by the Central Station. But I already felt I will. I was quickly convinced a few meters in the front, where I smelled something delicious coming from on oven. I was hungry so I entered the place and bought a Kanelstang, a cinnamon rod. It was a bakery with an impossible name: Lagkagehuset. I continued by the water, in a quiet area, crossing a bridge and arriving in a place where the Nordic architecture, perfect in its minimalism, was at home. I crossed a street following the indicator for the place I was searching for. A few steps further another world has opened: old buildings, abandoned warehouses with rusty walls covered in graffiti and impressive street art murals, little streets with cosy little eateries and bars — Freetown Christiania. Since then it stays like this. The so called Green Light District was that day ,as in most days when the police is not coming for a visit that ends in multiple arrests, covered in a cloud of pot smoke. Some were selling, some were buying, many were smoking. All in the open. In spite this taste of freedom, cannabis is illegal in Denmark and consumption, possession and selling will get one in prison if caught. If…but until then, freedom gets translated here is disobedience. Besides the dizzying clouds lifting up in the air, over the roofs, the place is also known for adopting a way of living that discourages consumerism, mass production and many other sins of our modern world. After all, Christiania has a strong point, besides being a controversial commune. The blue hour in Nyhavn is magical. Has so much of that charm from the old times. As the lights in each of the coloured houses are turned on, the guests occupy their tables in restaurants, voices and laughs and kitchen noises begin and the scent of delicious meals fill the air of an almost there Friday night. A light cold drizzle fell over the streets, the roofs and all those people wandering the city just as I arrived back at my hotel. Meeting new people is one of the best things that happen when traveling solo. So I got an invitation for a late drink that I accepted. I said amused. I had a lovely night, with great company, conversation and beer, in a bar decorated as if for one main purpose: to explain to foreigners the principles of hygge concept. From the warm atmosphere as we entered the place, completely hidden in dark, with the only source of light from the white candles placed on black tables or by the large windows facing the street, were rare passers by were moving as shadows in the dark, to the low nice music. The minimal design inside, with simple yet smart chosen pieces, cozy pillows and candles everywhere, still maintaining a diffused light, was the perfect picture of the famous Danish way of life that took in recent years the world by storm, with books, classes and masters promising to explaining basically how to live slow and enjoy the moments of peace. Hygge is about enjoying the good things in life with dear people around, lighting a candle in a long cold winter night, have a glass of wine or movie. Candlelight is hygge, cosying up with a loved one is hygge, relax is hygge…. I took a long walk in that cold sunny day. The normal Saturday mood in any European capital, busy and madly crowded. A waiter was cleaning the tables outside the restaurant opened in the former St. Nicholas Church, just in case the sunny day will encourage anyone to eat al fresco. The oldest church in town is used now also as a gallery for a contemporary art centre. In the North, this kind of metamorphoses of churches is not rare. I continued my stroll from Amalienborg , the home of the Danish royal family where the serious guards were the subject of tourists thousands of photos, to Kastellet , a star shaped old military fortress, with the near-by beautiful Anglican church St Alban , built in grey stone, with a high spire and gorgeous stained glass windows. With its peace and green in the middle of winter, the white clouds mirroring the lake, this place is probably my favourite in Copenhagen. The rays of sun right before sunset were penetrating the heavy grey clouds and the little statue in bronze, caught in the middle of the scene, with the sea as a background, like the celebrity of the city, which indeed she is. It took me about 20 minutes to get a chance to take a single photo without having many people by the statue. I went up and down the street a few times until blue hour covered again the city. I waited 30 minutes for a bubble tea inside Tase of Taiwan just because I got convinced by the line in front. I got taro milk tea just because it was purple. And just because I wanted to try something new, I discovered my next crush. I fell in love with the taste of taro. Tivoli, the years old amusement park, right in the middle of the city, was closed for guests in those days. To see it just a little bit I entered through a restaurant, then access the terrace outside, facing the park. With cold hands in a freezing windy evening, I sipped my taro ice bubble tea in the most dreamy winter wonderland…. The park was being painted in white for Winter in Tivoli, an event meant to bring the white winter in a city that so far that winter have seen no snow. In recent years…global worming…and now, this year, no snow at all. I met my good old friend from Nepal in a cozy 18th-century basement venue with ceiling beams: Puk restaurant. A place well known for the delicious traditional food it serves. In the end, I felt like a balloon. We said fair well when the night was turning to morning, after 2 more bars and 2 more beers with long and pleasant conversations about Denmark, his life as a Nepalese in Copenhagen, about Nepal wonders and caste traditions and our more then 10 years friendship. I renewed my promise to visit his country. At that time we draw a plan for next year. Nothing did I know in that weekend at the end of January , with crowded streets, Saturday night out, dining in restaurants and so many travels on the list for the year that has just begun. That reality seemed forever. Copenhagen was wonderful in all means, was like a deep breath before a long dive. How much I now miss what I never thought I will one day: flying. I went with a friend and I had one of the best weekends in my life. This is how and why I fell in love with Istanbul, the city on two continents. The surprise city that got me from having no expectations to being thrilled, drunk and ultimately in love. With its cobbled narrow streets on a rainy day, its tasty food, its mosques and sound of prayers, the colours of the Grand Bazar, its nightlife and, finally…. What else could I have asked from a city?! Any return to a city I love is pure joy and Istanbul is on top of that list, even for a 3rd visit. After all, layovers are nothing but free visit and a chance to see more of the world. At am Taksim Square was sleeping. The restaurants on the little streets around were all closed. And I was hungry and needed wifi and a place to leave my luggage for 10h. Anywhere this would be a challenge but not in Turkey, a country were hospitality is the way of living. One shy question to a waiter arranging the chairs in a restaurant and the door opened for me and soon the food was served and the wifi turned on. I left a big tip and multiple thank you. Now getting rid of my luggage for the next hours. The only options I found online were either too far or closed. I got the idea to ask for information a person that could actually offer the solution, a guy in a travel agency. Problem solved. I was now free as a seagull to wander the city until evening and discover new places or see again my already favourite ones. Some call it most instagrammable spots, I call them simply my beautiful places. In Taxim Square there was something I missed on my previous two visits in the city: Nostalgic İstiklal Caddesi Tram, shortly the Old Tram , that brings the mood of the 19th century straingt to The heart of the city and one of the places that I could visit times and more and love it every time. For the first time, the line to enter inside the famous Blue Mosque was this time doable so I entered inside. I walked barefoot on the soft carpet covering the pavement inside the dark interior where high stained-glass windows allowed little light inside, among worshippers whispering the morning prayers. Ohh the perks of being a morning person, which I will never be! Now used for great photos mostly. As a bonus of the area are the colourful houses a few meters away from the entrance to Basilica Cistern, on Yerebatan street, just in case there is not enough time to go to Balat and Fener, famous for their rainbow like streets. Wandering the little streets around the bazar until I find an entrance, playing this search and find game is one of my favourite activities in Istanbul and I do it every time I am in the city. Being one of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 61 streets and more then 4. It is huge, colourful and vivid. My favourite are the stores with hundreds of Turkish lamps. Enter inside one and feel just as dreamy as in a story from One Thousand and One Nights. Taking photos is forbidden but if you start with a conversation and ask nicely, they will allow it gladly. Probably my favourite area for expressing the very essence of the entire city in one place. An always stop to my favourite baklava place in town, discovered by chance during visit no 2: Acemoglu Baklavari. I took my box of treats and devoured them while walking on Galata Bridge, among its tens of fishermen reaching their fishing poles for the catch of the day. This street show is all about life in the old Istanbul, of past, present and future, for a long as the bridge will stand there and the sea beneath it. Located on the other side of the harbour, this is the place for funky cafes, cocktail bars mix, hipster boutiques, old family-run shops in Ottoman-era buildings tattooed with street art and graffiti, a veritable art gallery in open air. Galata Tower watches over with a restless eye since the 13th century until nowadays. My hours in Istanbul were blown away in the air by the Bosphorus breeze. Evening came with grey clouds of the forecasted rain for that day. I left the city sinking in a silent blue hour, spreading over the mosques, the bazars, the fishermen on Galata Bridge and all the other favourite places I have there. I wished I had another glass of wine with a view at Istanbul, the bar in Taksim Square. Next time. My feet were burning! A hot long day of wandering got me exhausted. I touched the sea and felt it as if it was a step to heaven. Cold and calm. I entered knee deep with a Hmmm whispered to myself only. The sunset light melted the skyscrapers on Corniche Street into liquid gold, ready to ooze into the sea. It was my long expected moment. And then I heard in the back, someone was approaching:. Is forbidden after 6pm. A never-ending 3h night bus ride took me from Dubai to Abu Dhabi the night before. Finding a taxi driver that spoke good English, with no Indian accent, was the first big and good difference that happened in the second Emirates city I came to see: Abu Dhabi. He was from Uganda and my 3 Swahili words turned our conversation into a friendly one. The second difference, a lavish one this time, was the 4 stars hotel by the sea in central Abu Dhabi I afforded. In Dubai that would have been a fantasy. Thanks to the late room service and the Indonesian restaurant downstairs I had chicken satay with peanut sauce and nasi goreng, Indonesian fried rice. What a dinner at 2am! I overslept, damn it! I took a look at the hotel pool and fancy interiors and left. I lost more then an hour looking for an exchange office. After the posh Dubai, Abu Dhabi was just another city: large empty boulevards, a few fast food restaurants, shops with ugly dirty windows and an unbearable heat. A place I found about from Instagram…. No entrance fee, all man and women were split in groups to the changing rooms. I wanted a burgundy abayas, a robe, those looked prettier, but I got a light brown one instead. Only two colours available to rent, for free as well. The garment had a hood so you can cover your head, which is mandatory inside. The rule is simple: no visible ankles or head. If anyone wants to wear her own clothes, no problem, as long as that rule is applied. I then joined the row of hundreds of people going in, passing by the other hundreds getting out. When I stepped out into the light and all became suddenly bright white around, I know I have arrived to another beautiful place I so much wanted to see: Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque was sublime! The strong sun shining right above and the perfect blue sky made the whole place look like an Arabian Nights white palace. The details were gorgeous. The interior yard was surrounded by a no crossing tape so that no one could pass over the limit, on the mosaic forming large flowers spreading all over the white yard. There were special spots where photos could be taken, so photographers, instagrammers, likes addicts and others have all the conditions they needed for the perfect shot and the best memory. Well that for a change was a struggle to me: I was alone. And I only wanted one nice photo of myself with the mosque large yard in the back. If possible no minaret getting straight out of my head. It took me an hour to get it and 7 people who tried. In vain. I got either an ID type photo, either one without my feet, one without my forehead, of course the one where a minaret coming straight out of my head, a few with my eyes closed and many on the move… I felt discouraged after all the options I could think of for how to ruin a photo ran out. I thank everyone for their usually one photo taken. The 3pm free tour was lost. I stood in a corner and admire the place. It was too beautiful to care about a photo. The photo opportunity spot I was sitting got empty, when a Japanese couple came. He had a camera. I thought I should ask him nicely for a photo, like I did previously with other 3 people carrying good cameras…. He accepted smiling. He made a two steps more in the back. Hmm…another good sign, not a close up photo this time, huh! He gave me back my camera and they leave before I could check the result. I never do this on the spot, my reactions can hurt feelings. He was one of those rare begins born with a natural gift for framing a photo. We changed a few words and they told me about another free tour starting in 30 minutes and what they saw during the previous one where they can enter inside the mosque. It was getting late and after a wandered around a little bit more, I decided to follow the crowds and see the interior of the mosque without a tour inside. The interior was just as dreamy as the white yard, with the biggest chandeliers I ever saw. It looked like this beautiful! I almost destroyed my Havaiannas flip-flops rushing on the endless boardwalk, from Al Ain Palace all the way up to Corniche Beach, 5,2km in less then 30min. When my feet were hurting me close to an unbearable level, I arrived. I crossed the beach, threw by flip flops on the sand and stop when I reached the see. What a feeling! It was too cold for a swim and too empty but perfect to cool away a hot long day. The beach at sunset looked fantastic, surrounded by glass skyscrapers on one side and the silver sea on the other, quiet like a hot day in the desert. I was happy there, all I had was all I needed. The sea was cold anyway. I sit on the sand and admire the place and enjoy my peace and excitement: I finally was in Abu Dhabi. I left the beach when was already dark. I took a taxi and asked him for a good restaurant with local food. I almost wanted to kiss him 10 minutes later when I saw in front of my eyes 3 big letters: GAD. My favourite place to eat in Hurghada, Egypt was in Abu Dhabi too. I walked on Sheyk Zayed Bin Sultan Street that evening, happy I added a new country to by beautiful collection and more new beautiful places. That evening of January, with 28C temperatures, the streets were filled with people, the restaurants, the terraces, the bars, the coffee shops… The heart of the city was beating. The big world was there and I was part of it, me and my wanderlust, ready for my next flight. How I will miss that feeling of perfect freedom later this year. PS: lesson learned — always check the check in conditions when I book a room inside the airport. An invisible sun lit up the horizon. Earth and Sky, soon that everything will be melted together in one shade of fire I adore, cut in halves by a straight line ready to explode: the far horizon. A sparkle slipped out behind the dark mountain silhouette, like a promise for more. I left the jeep and the cold air gave me goosebumps as my feet sank deep into the freezing sand. It was time for a rising sun. Time to welcome a new day…. The window in my room was still dark. Maybe 2 h and a yawn. Dubai was becoming the newest city to keep me awake, I thought, while making efforts to accommodate my sight and get dressed. I answered him in a hurry, closing the big entrance door behind me. There I was 30 min later, with three other Indians: the driver and another couple we picked up from the opposite side of the city, driving to catch the sunrise on the red dunes, leaving the city behind, still sleeping and still quiet. I thought then of another fact about Dubai: there are more Indians there then Arabs. It surely looked so from where I stayed. On the road I listened to those three companions talking about their India and the region there they all called home. We stopped in a gas station after a while of running on a straight and empty road crossing the desert. Surprise for the fool of me: it was freezing outside! Damn it! Of course it was, it was in the desert! With all the glam and spam of Dubai it seemed I lost my head completely. With nothing to do or buy, I got some candies from the store to sweeten my cold dark morning. At least it worked for that pain in the bum flu, a Christmas Eve present, that had followed me all the way to Dubai and was still bothering me with an awkward cough. I was struggling to keep it under some control and avoid weird looks by pumping sugar in my blood while constantly eating candies until my tongue hurt. Living on the bottom of a valley surrounded by mountains and high hills, where the sun rose bright and set even brighter, I was a kid that grew up without sunsets and sunrises. The once in a year occasions in summer when my family and I drove for 2 days to see the sea , set the ground for my eternal admiration for the sun in its first and last moments every day. One that fights sleepless nights, desert cold, chilly sand and more only to see that first sparkle of fire in the horizon and watch it growing until it becomes too bright to see. From the top of the large red dune, like a wave in a see of sand dunes, I forgot all but that: sunrise in the desert. Always fantastic. Sandboarding was not my thing. I tried it, got sand in my mouth and I was fine with it. Plus carrying the huge board all the way back on top of the dune, climbing it in a run on a moving sand was a hell of a workout at 6am. If there were no people watching probably it would have taken me the whole day. Next, please! Our driver reduced the tire pressure, a manoeuvre meant to enable smooth movement over the dunes. And the dunes bashing started. First smoother and then faster and furious until my entire stomach was upside down. My front seat offered the best feelings of this crazy ride among waves of sand. A big like for it. And I hate it, I then whispered to her, the Indian girl. Her experience was much worse then mine, trying not to fall and break all bones. She had a zoophobia or animal phobia. Of all animals. So when my camel tried to scratch her cheek on the back of her camel, reaching her foot, this turned into a mix of hysteria and screams. Finally our driver saved the day and remove my camel away from her leg. Back home I have two good friends who are terrified of birds so this was no so uncommon. Falcons have eyesight eight times as sharp as humans. But this is and entertainments from hundreds of years before can be also updated and creatures that belong to the sky will be better left where they belong: free. We had breakfast in a Bedouin camp that looked like the scene of a long and loud party the night before. It was. Two women dancers still wearing their costumes crossed from one tent to another with sleepy faces and messed up hair. A few tourists came out blinded by the sun light and ran inside quickly. I took my plate and went outside the tent, sit down on a wet pillow and enjoyed my breakfast struggling to keep the cats away. The Indian couple joined me later, after he convinced her that the cats are harmless. It was such a nice morning in the desert and the sun was just perfectly warm. The place was deserted. The old limestone buildings, the narrow dirty streets in the back, the small shops and the merchants carrying huge bags had nothing in common with the city of Dubai that shone bright from just a few km away, across the river. Two worlds of the same city set apart from the very river that once gave life to a small fishermen village in these desert lands, the foundation of all that it is now. Unfortunately most of the stalls were closed, but those still opened offered a clear view of the place. Naif Souk I found it by chance, looking for a bracelet for my collection gathered from all the countries I go. Two levels filled with shops selling everything from pashmina scarfs to colourful hijabs or cheap jewelries and frequented by locals. The only thing I found came in set with a matched ring. I did a step back only to get some air. And so I got the price I wanted using my good 4 years old iPhone. Never thought it can be helpful in negotiations. But in Dubai the image is everything and the phone is the financial business card. At one a large Indian family with kids, at the second an Arab old man was cleaning the dirt between its toes, leaving too much to see under his thobe. I left the old Dubai live its live in Banyias Square and headed to the beach. A taxi from Mall of The Emirates took me straight to Kite Beach, when the sun was ready to hide behind Burj al Arab and soon enter the sea. I bought snacks and devoured them all on the beach, upset that I missed the chance to take a swim in Dubai and comforting myself that the water was too cold anyway. Indeed it was but I swam colder waters before. Again Google Maps fooled me about the distances in Dubai that seem small online and you finally walk till you drop. Instead I took a taxi and decided to get to Atlantis. The last hot spot on my to do list in Dubai. I just wanted to see the hotel up-close. We drove from the roots al the way up to the top of The Palm. The taxi left me in the front, on the left side main entrance. What a difference compared to the old Deira I left only a couple of hours before. The beautiful architecture, like a palace from The Arabian Nights, surrounded by lush gardens with palm trees and frangipani is one of the luxury hot spots not just in Dubai but the world. And of course with many taking selfies in the front… I left The Palm and Atlantis like all mortals, by train, the one that crosses the island and I found out about only then, offering great views to all the leaves filled with villas of The Palm. After all, where else you get to see parked in line 3 or 5 cars that together worth more then 1M, or 2, or 3, if not here? I like the place for its mood of eternal holiday that few places manage to induce. I found wasabi peas in one market near by and finished the whole pack staring at the skyscrapers curtain of lights surrounding the Marina, thinking about the two handsome men dressed in immaculate thobs I saw before, by the beach. And that was Dubai: recalibrating my expectations about what money can built, tracing higher limits between luxury and poverty and raising the bar so high when it comes to what entertainment a city can offer. Two sleepless nights and for long days let me discover my Dubai. From the serene desert to the noisy downtown, from the old souks to level in Burj Khalifa, from Jumeirah beach to The Palm and Dubai Maria, it fascinates me. The savannah was like this: complete. It seemed a marketing line at that moment… I bought the tickets 20 days before the departure and what followed was a marathon of emails and messages to a significant number of tour operators. Arriving After a few hours stop in a hot like hell Doha, I arrived in Nairobi at midday. Kibera — o glimpse on life in the largest urban slum in Africa I felt immediately as I landed in Nairobi what it feels like to feel different because of the color of your skin. Top view over Kibera, Nairobi I was curious to see it the moment I read that there were walking tours organized there. Kibera, Nairobi After I went quiet, as the street got more and more narrow and I saw the cobweb of streets that were only accessible by foot and that went deep into the heart of Kibera, from which I stole images of faces and little fragments of life scenes. Nairobi for tourists The Giraffe Centre, established to protect the endangered giraffe that is found only in the grasslands of East Africa, a place where you can feed the giraffes, was just closing. Giraffe Manor My phantasy of visiting this place and see the giraffes sneaking their heads on the windows and chewing bites on the plates on the beautifully arranged table, stayed a phantasy. Next: 3 days safari in Masai Mara. Malta The only place I was during one summer and went back the next one. Croatia A morning walk with medieval scent in Dubrovnik followed by a cooling swim and beach time on Banje Beach. Belgium This place has much more to offer besides thousands o types of beer the best in the world and delicious chocolates. Italy La bella Italia is always a good idea. France One of my favourite countries for all the reasons in the world, France , has one of the top summer destinations in Europe. Netherlands Beach lovers are of many kinds, but two categories are the main ones: those who like to just lay on the sand all day long and do nothing more exhausting then sipping a lemonade and those who, the moment they see water, their heart starts pumping harder and no matter the outside temperatures, the sea is their playground. Greece When it comes to summer love and beach addiction, Greece is a top destination in the world. Portugal From the sweet Porto wine and Fado music heard on narrow colourful streets in Lisbon in a hot August afternoon, to the fairytales castles up in Sintra and then down to its fabulous Algarve coast, with hidden beaches and the white houses in Albufeira, I carry Portugal in my heart forever. Spain Spoiled by the sun with long summers and caressed by the waves of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, Spain was my first summer destination abroad. Iceland If July and August in Europe seem too hot and some want to escape the heat and find a cold refuge in the North, the land of fire and ice, Iceland , has the place: Diamond Beach. The Friday I smelled pot. Here… said a loud voice. The icon, Nyhavn With very little preparation since it was a last minute decision, I decided to see the city by going with the flow and see what happens. Learning Hygge in Copenhagen Meeting new people is one of the best things that happen when traveling solo. I raised my eyes from my tom yom soup, in the Thai restaurant across my hotel where we met. Now you understand it. The Saturday I took a long walk in that cold sunny day. Was the answer to my silly question: does it snow in Copenhagen. Sure it does. How much I now miss what I never thought I will one day: flying Next: my favourite beaches in Europe. Sultanahmet wonders The heart of the city and one of the places that I could visit times and more and love it every time. The Grand Bazaar Wandering the little streets around the bazar until I find an entrance, playing this search and find game is one of my favourite activities in Istanbul and I do it every time I am in the city. Next: Hygge in Copenhagen. And then I heard in the back, someone was approaching: — Excuse me, please step out of the sea. I catch them up in a few minutes, among the crowds. I love it. Marathon walk on Corniche St It looked like this beautiful! Next: one day in Istanbul. Oh, yes! I was wandering how many times I said it was the last time… — Did you ever do this? I will come back for that missed swim in the sea. Next: 24h in Abu Dhabi. Traveling solo and writing down memories. Subscribe Subscribed. My Beautiful Places. Sign me up. Already have a WordPress. Log in now. Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website.

Buying hash Manarola