How to Celebrate Lammas and Lughnasadh: First Harvest Traditions, Ritual and Sun Magic

On August 1, Lammas — aka Lughnasadh — marks the first harvest on the pagan Wheel of the Year, with sun-drenched rituals honoring the Celtic god Lugh and bread. Lots of bread. 

It still feels like summer — the kind that clings. The air is thick, the gardens are bursting, and the sun hasn’t yet given up its post. But something’s shifting. It’s not quite autumn, and not quite high summer, either. Just that in-between hum that says: Harvest time has started.

This is Lammas, also called Lughnasadh (this mouthful is pronounced “Loo-nah-sah”) — the first harvest festival of the pagan year. A time to gather what’s grown, bake bread in gratitude, and honor both the work and the letting go. It’s the season of full fields, tired hands, and sacred thank-yous whispered into the grain.

You may have lit fires for Beltane in the spring and danced under the high sun at Litha, but now the Wheel turns again. Lammas is where the wild energy slows — where intention meets outcome, and we pause to ask: What have I grown? What do I carry forward? And what do I leave behind?

What Is Lammas and Lughnasadh?

Lammas, celebrated on August 1, is the first of three harvest festivals in the pagan Wheel of the Year — followed by Mabon (the autumn equinox) and Samhain (the final harvest). The name Lammas comes from “Loaf Mass,” a Christian-era term marking the blessing of the first bread made from the grain harvest. But its roots run deeper.

Before Lammas, there was Lughnasadh, a Gaelic festival honoring the Celtic god Lugh (pronounced like Lou), patron of skill, craftsmanship and light. According to legend, Lugh created the holiday to honor his foster mother, Tailtiu, who died after clearing the land so crops could grow. Think of it as a celebration born from sacrifice, labor and love (more on this below). 

Both versions of the festival celebrate the same thing: gratitude for the first fruits of the land, and the subtle turning toward darker days. You bake bread because the grain has ripened. You give thanks because survival is never guaranteed. And you celebrate with fire, feasting, games and offerings — not in fear of winter, but in honor of what you’ve managed to grow before it comes.

Today, whether you’re harvesting wheat, creative work or personal growth, Lammas is the time to pause, reflect and say thank you — out loud, with your hands full.

The Legend of Lugh

Long ago, when gods and giants still roamed Ireland, there was a queen named Tailtiu — a goddess of the earth, strong and steady, her hands always buried in the soil. She took one look at the wild, tangled forests of Ériu and saw potential. So she cleared the land. All of it. By hand.

For days and nights and then more days again, Tailtiu worked. She moved mountains. Pulled roots. Flattened fields. Until at last, the land was fertile, ready to feed a people who didn’t yet know how much they’d need it. Then she laid down, weary beyond words — and died.

But her foster son, Lugh, wouldn’t let her be forgotten.

Lugh was brilliant, golden, untouchable. A god of many talents: warrior, smith, poet, harpist, trickster, tactician. When the gods were recruiting for a battle against the monstrous Fomorians, they told him, “We already have someone for each skill.” So Lugh said, “Then find me someone who has all of them.” And the room went quiet.

It was Lugh — the sun-bright, many-skilled god — who declared a festival in Tailtiu’s honor. He called all the tribes together, not for mourning, but for celebration. He lit fires. He hosted games. He told stories and sang songs and held contests of strength, wit and beauty. Farmers brought their first grains. Poets spoke their sharpest lines. Lovers met in the tall grass. Oaths were sworn. Bread was broken.

This was Lughnasadh, the “Assembly of Lugh.” A wild, sun-drenched sendoff for a goddess who gave everything — and a reminder that nothing grows without effort or sacrifice.

The games were held at Tailtiu’s grave, where the grass grew thick and sweet over her resting place. 

And every August, when the sun ripens the wheat and the sickles gleam, Lugh’s voice echoes somewhere in the wind: “Honor her. Honor the harvest. Honor what it cost.”

The Rise of Lammas

As the centuries turned and the old gods quieted — or were quieted — the Church stepped in, as it often did, with a rebrand.

Lughnasadh, with its bonfires and boasting, its hilltop games and grain offerings, was a little too loud, a little too wild, and way too pagan. But people weren’t about to stop marking the first harvest — not when the fields were full and the bread was fresh and the land still whispered Tailtiu’s name.

So the Church gave it a new name: Lammas, short for “Loaf Mass.”

Gone were the sacred games and sun gods. In their place: a more palatable ritual. You’d bring the first loaf of bread to church, fresh from the newly milled grain, and the priest would bless it. A holy thank you, wrapped in linen and incense. No druids required.

It was still a festival of gratitude — just with more psalms and fewer hilltop flings.

But even as Lammas was woven into the Christian calendar, the old ways clung. You’d still find tales of Lugh passed around fires. You’d still hear of sacred wells visited on August 1. And in rural corners, some folks secretly kept baking bread in his name.

Today, Lammas and Lughnasadh blur together — one dressed in church robes, the other in sun-gold and shadow. Whether you honor Lugh or the loaf (or both), you’re stepping into a very old current when you mark this day.

Traditions of Lammas and Lughnasadh

Lammas and Lughnasadh come with a spread of traditions equal parts sacred, social and symbolic. These rites once marked the height of summer’s bounty and the first sigh of the waning sun. Some remain intact, others were reinvented, but they all echo that ancient truth: Nothing grows without gratitude.

Bread

The central act of Lammas is in the name itself: Loaf Mass. People once baked bread from the first harvested wheat and brought it to be blessed. Others offered it at the hearth or buried pieces in the fields for luck and fertility. In both Christian and pagan observance, the bread wasn’t just food; it was a sacred transaction between land, labor and spirit.

Fire and Feasting

Like many cross-quarter festivals, Lughnasadh came with fire. Bonfires were lit to honor the sun at its peak and to mark its slow retreat. Feasts were held beside the flames, using the first of the harvest: berries, fresh grains, garden produce, and anything ripening under the late summer sun.

The Tailteann Games

Held in ancient Ireland at the burial site of Tailtiu, these funeral games were athletic, artistic and social all at once. Tribes competed in races, wrestling, music, poetry and storytelling. Oaths were sworn, grievances aired, and couples even formed trial marriages — often lasting a year and a day, no commitment rings required.

Sacred Sites and Pilgrimages

People made pilgrimages to holy wells, hilltops and other sacred places, often leaving offerings or saying prayers for a good harvest and safe passage through the darker half of the year.

Harvest Rites and Grain Spirits

The grain had a spirit, a presence. The first and last sheaves were honored with care. Some communities crafted corn dollies from the final stalks, believing they housed the spirit of the field and brought protection through the winter. Others saved the last sheaf for spring planting, returning the spirit to the soil in a full-circle blessing.

Symbols of Lammas and Lughnasadh

Lammas is a festival of grain, gratitude and golden light — a turning point in the Wheel of the Year when we honor both abundance and impermanence. Its symbols reflect the rhythm of harvest and the sacred balance between effort and reward.

1. Bread and grain
   The central symbol of Lammas is the loaf. Bread made from the first grain represents survival, sacrifice and the miracle of transformation — from seed to stalk to sustenance. Wheat, barley, rye and oats also carry protective and prosperity magic, often used in offerings or home blessings.

2. The sickle
   The sickle or scythe represents the act of harvest — the moment of cutting away, of reaping what has been sown. It’s a symbol of hard work, mortality and the necessity of release. In ritual, it can mark endings, gratitude and readiness to let go.

3. The corn dolly
   Often woven from the last sheaf of grain, the corn dolly (or harvest spirit) was kept through winter as a charm of protection and fertility. This figure represents the living spirit of the land — honored, protected and returned to the earth in spring to ensure next year’s growth.

4. The sun
   Though its power is beginning to wane, the sun is still a dominant force at Lammas. It ripens the grain, warms the fields, and reminds us that even as light fades, it leaves behind nourishment. Sun symbols, gold tones and fire rituals all connect to this presence.

5. Fire
   Lammas shares fire’s symbolism with many other sabbats, but here it carries a specific tone: Warmth giving way to shadow. Bonfires at Lammas honor the labor behind the light — not just passion, but perseverance. Candles and hearth fires evoke both celebration and quiet reverence.

6. Wheels and circles
   The Wheel of the Year turns, and Lammas marks a visible shift. Circular symbols — from braided loaves to sun wheels — reflect this ongoing cycle of growth, harvest, decay and rebirth. They remind us that the work is never truly done, only transformed.

7. The color gold
   Gold is the signature shade of Lammas. It’s the color of ripe wheat, late-summer sunlight and divine abundance. Wearing gold or decorating with yellow, orange and amber connects you to the energy of fullness, gratitude and transition.

A Lammas Ritual 

This ritual is designed to honor what you’ve harvested — creatively, emotionally or literally — while also making space for what must be cut away. It draws on the ancient symbolism of the sickle, bread and the turning sun. 

What you’ll need:

• A small round loaf of bread (homemade or bakery-fresh)

• A knife (symbolic sickle)

• A gold, orange or brown candle

Step 1: Set the scene. 

Cast a magic circle if you’d like. 

Place your candle in front of the bread. Light it as the sun begins to lower — golden hour, if possible. Let this moment feel sacred, even if it’s just you and your cat on the kitchen counter.

Step 2: Declare your harvest before the flame.

Hold your hands over the bread. Say what you’ve harvested this season. Maybe it’s a job. A finished creative project. A hard conversation you finally had. Say it, name it, own it. 

Then chant:

I’ve brought this to the table.
With work, with will, I’ve made it real.

Step 3: Cut the loaf. 

Use the knife to slice the bread. As you cut, envision what must be released to move forward: a habit, a fear, a stale version of you. Speak this next part as you slice:

The grain is grown, the blade is near,
I cut away what I outgrew this year.

What’s done is done. The stalk must fall.
I thank it — then I take it all.

Step 4: Chant. 

Break off a piece of bread, hold it to your heart, and chant this slowly — three times, each time a little louder:

Sun in the field and fire in the sky,
I feast, I thank, I say goodbye.
What once was seed is now my own.
I take the gift, I give it home.

Eat the bread slowly. Feel the warmth. Let yourself sit in that golden glow of satisfaction and release.

Step 5: Finish the ritual. 

Blow out the candle and scatter a few breadcrumbs outside for the spirits of the land, birds or anyone who could use a little magic.

Feasting and Traditional Foods of Lammas and Lughnasadh

Lammas is the feast that says, we made it this far — and that’s worth celebrating. After months of planting, tending, sweating and hoping, the first harvest is finally in hand. That’s why this sabbat is one of the most delicious on the Wheel: It’s a table piled high with the fruits of your labor, both literal and symbolic.

Bread (non-negotiable)

Bread: the ultimate alchemy of flour, water, salt and time. At Lammas, a loaf represents gratitude, transformation and survival. Traditional loaves were round, sun-shaped, or braided into spirals and wheels. Some folks saved a portion for blessings, while others fed it to the fire or the fields in offering.

If you bake nothing else this year, bake for Lammas — with herbs from your garden, honey from the farmer’s market, or whatever feels sacred in your kitchen.

Grains of all kinds

Wheat may get the spotlight, but barley, oats, rye and corn are all Lammas royalty. Oatcakes, porridge, barley soup, cornbread — these are humble, grounding foods with ancient roots. They stick to your ribs and remind you that nourishment is a sacred act. 

Berries and first fruits

The late-summer hedgerows are bursting. Blackberries, raspberries, blueberries — if you can pick them yourself, even better. Early apples may also be ready, and orchard fruit carries special Lammas energy: juicy, generous, wild.

Preserving, canning or pie-making also fit the season’s vibe. You’re feasting — but you’re also storing for the winter to come.

Seasonal veggies

Zucchini, tomatoes, squash, corn on the cob, beans, fresh herbs — Lughnasadh is a love letter to the garden. Many traditional dishes were simple: roasted with oil and salt, cooked into stews, or eaten fresh with bread and cheese. Let the ingredients sing. They’ve worked hard to get here.

Ale, mead and herbal infusions

Fermentation is magic. Whether it’s homebrewed ale, golden mead, or sun tea steeped with mint and calendula, a Lammas drink should feel alive. It should warm the belly and honor the earth. Toast to Lugh, to the land, to the ones who cleared the fields before you.

Crafting and Activities for Lammas and Lughnasadh

Lammas is a working holiday. It honors labor — physical, creative, emotional. So the crafts of this sabbat aren’t just decorative; they’re symbolic acts of gratitude, protection and offering. Whether your tools are scissors, shears, flour or fire, this is the season to make something that gives back.

1. Make a corn dolly (and don’t make it cute). 

Corn dollies are traditional harvest figures woven from the last sheaf of grain. They house the spirit of the field through winter — think of it as spiritual life support for the land. You can use wheat, corn husks or even raffia. Don’t stress about perfection; these were never meant to be precious.

Once made, you can:

• Keep it on your altar through the darker months

• Bury or burn it at Imbolc to return the spirit to the earth

• Add protective herbs or charms to empower its energy

2. Craft a sun wheel or grain braid. 

Braid together wheat stalks, dried grasses, or long herbs into a spiral or circle. These were once hung over doors and hearths for luck, abundance and protection. 

3. Press flowers and herbs from your garden. 

Take stock of what’s blooming or ripening around you. Press flowers and leaves between books or use them to make bookmarks, sachets or offering bundles. Lughnasadh is a time to capture the fleeting — before it fades.

4. Bake bread with intention. 

Shape your bread into suns, sheaves, spirals or wheels. Score it with sigils. Tuck in herbs, garlic or cheese. And if your bread flops? That’s part of the offering. You still get points for showing up.

5. Host your own mini Tailteann Games. 

Whether you host a poetry contest, an art swap or a backyard obstacle course, this tradition goes back to the festival’s roots. Celebrate what you (and your people) are good at — and don’t forget to crown someone “Champion of the Grain” or whatever glorious nonsense you come up with.

6. Create a harvest altar. 

Use things you already have: bread, fruit, dried herbs, a candle or two. Add in a symbol of something you’re proud to have “harvested” this year. You can dismantle it at Mabon, or let it linger as a visual reminder of all you’ve made possible.

Honoring the Spirit of Lammas and Lughnasadh

Whether you call it Lammas or Lughnasadh, this festival invites you to pause for reverence. Mark the moment between heat and harvest, between holding on and letting go. It’s a time to bake (and break) bread, give thanks, and honor your labor.

From corn dollies and feasts to fiery rituals and golden symbols, Lammas and Lughnasadh remind us that everything worth harvesting starts with a seed — and a little faith in the sun.

Happy first harvest. May your table be full, your spirit light, and your sickle sharp. –Wally

How to Survive (and Actually Enjoy) Off-Grid Travel

Thinking of ditching the grid for a few days of wilderness and wonder? From forest cabins to desert van life, here’s how to do remote travel right — with the help of a few modern upgrades.

Let’s be honest: Most of us aren’t heading into the wild to prove we can rub two sticks together and make fire. We’re there for the views, the peace, and maybe to post a smug little sunrise story once we’ve brewed our campsite coffee.

But remote travel isn’t always as romantic as the drone shots make it look. Get too cocky, and “off the grid” becomes “off your rocker”: You’re hangry, lost and out of power as the sun is setting.

“Off-grid doesn’t mean punishment. You don’t have to summit Everest or poop into a hole in the rain to prove you’re badass.”

The good news? With a little planning, a few creature comforts, and the right gear (like a portable power station that keeps your phone, fridge and flashlight going strong), you can actually enjoy your unplugged adventure.

Let’s break it down — from what to pack to the biggest surprises no one tells you about going remote. Spoiler: You’ll want extra snacks, backup socks and just enough signal to cue up your hiking playlist.

1. Choose your wild wisely

Off-grid doesn’t mean punishment. You don’t have to summit Everest or poop into a hole in the rain to prove you’re badass. Remote travel can look like a stargazing dome in the desert, a lakeside yurt, or a national forest cabin with a wood-burning stove and exactly zero bars of service.

Start with a place that thrills and comforts you. Is there a stream to dip your feet in? A boulder to pose dramatically on? A backup gas station within 45 minutes? All valid considerations.

Pro tip: Check trail conditions, weather, and the closest place to get both tacos and gas. If either is over an hour away, you’re in real “better-have-a-power-source” territory.

2. Pack for your mood, not just the map

Sure, you’ve got hiking boots, granola and a bandana. But what about a fan for when your camper turns into a sweat lodge? Or a way to light up your tent with soft fairy lights instead of blinding headlamps? 

Modern adventurers don’t just pack for survival. They pack to set the mood — for cooking, journaling, reading, vibing. That might mean a camp stove for real meals, a portable pour-over coffeemaker, or a solar string of fairy lights that turns your tent into a woodland cocktail lounge. Bonus points if you’ve got a way to power a fan or charge your Kindle without draining your car battery.

3. Make your car your command center

In remote areas, your car isn’t just for transport; it’s your fortress, pantry and power hub. Whether you’re camping out of it or just relying on it to get back to town, treat it like mission control.

Stock it with snacks, water, emergency gear and something that doesn’t run off your car battery. That way, your GPS can stay juiced and your cooler can hum along without draining your vehicle’s life force.

4. Unplug intentionally

Going remote doesn’t mean disappearing. The goal isn’t to vanish like a 2013 Facebook friend. It’s to choose when and how to disconnect.

Want to film your hike? Great. Want to read an ebook in a hammock with your phone on airplane mode? Fab.

The trick is to prep before you lose signal: Download maps, cue your playlist, set that away message. And bring backup power so you’re not stuck watching your battery die at 12% while you argue over whether the trail split left or right.

5. Eat like you’re on a picnic, not a survival show

We all love a good challenge — but soggy oatmeal and a melted protein bar does not a wilderness feast make. 

Just because you’re off the grid doesn’t mean you need to live like a raccoon. A mini stove, a small cooler and a foldable pan can turn a clearing into a forest bistro. Pancakes hit different at 10,000 feet.

6. Embrace the elements — but also outsmart them

Nature is stunning. It’s also rude. It will throw wind at your tent, sunburn you while you nap, and laugh while your map disintegrates in the rain.

Smart adventurers embrace the elements, sure — but they also plan like they’ve been bitch-slapped by Mother Nature before. 

Bring layers, slather on sunblock, stay hydrated — and always have a backup battery when the wind kills your power line and you need to Google “how to build a windbreak with a tarp.”

7. Sleep smarter, not harder

There’s nothing quite like a night under the stars. Until your air mattress deflates, your lantern dies, and something snuffles around your tent at 3 a.m.

Here’s the fix: Prep your sleep zone like it’s the Ritz-Carlton of canvas. Pack a cozy sleeping bag, throw in some soft lantern lighting (pro tip: solar-powered lights save you the panic of dead batteries), and make peace with the fact that every twig snap will sound like a bear.

8. Make your trip your own kind of wild

Not every off-grid trip needs to look like a Patagonia ad. Some people want to summit peaks. Others want to write poetry in a hammock, sip local wine, or catch their dinner in a creek.

Build your experience around what you love. And make sure you’ve got the power — literal and metaphorical — to do it.

Whether you’re filming waterfalls with your drone or journaling by lantern light, build your own version of wild. Download your maps ahead of time. Pack a rechargeable fan if it’s going to be toasty — or a pocket hand warmer if you’re chasing frost-kissed views.

Get Lost — Just Not Completely

Remote travel isn’t about proving you can suffer. It’s about trading noise for birdsong, to-do lists for trail maps, and overhead fluorescents for moonlight. And honestly? It’s a lot more magical when you’re not fumbling in the dark with 2% battery.

With a little prep, a healthy respect for the unexpected, and a few modern lifesavers, you can leave chaos behind — without going full caveman.

So go off-grid-ish. Hike until your legs hurt. Eat grilled cheese in the forest. Read by lantern light. And when someone says, “I could never do that,” smile — because you know the secret: The wild’s a lot more fun when you’re ready for it. –Wally

Arizona’s Most Unexpected Museums, Collections and Curiosities You Never Knew You Needed

From Phoenix to Flagstaff and Tucson, Arizona’s quirkiest museums celebrate the strange, the surprising and the downright delightful — including castles, miniatures and a spaceship you can sleep in.

Space Age Restaurant

Arizona is full of surprises. Beyond the epic landscapes of the Grand Canyon and the saguaro cacti standing tall under desert skies, the state is hiding treasures of a much quirkier variety. Tucked into small towns and side streets are museums that challenge convention, redefine curiosity and embrace the downright odd. 

From tiny worlds that feel magically alive to reptilian tributes and intergalactic roadside stops, these spots don’t just entertain — they leave you marveling at the sheer weirdness and wonder of it all.

And for those travelers tracking both road miles and game day scores, Arizona sportsbooks offer a modern way to stay connected to the action — even while exploring copper cookware collections or UFO-themed motels.

The Mini Time Machine Museum of Miniatures

Tucson’s Mini Time Machine Museum of Miniatures is a marvel of detail and nostalgia, welcoming visitors into a labyrinth of over 500 tiny scenes that span genres, time periods and fantastical dimensions. Inside, entire Victorian parlors are re-created on a scale that fits in your palm. 

You’ll wander past whimsical fairytale dioramas, snowy holiday villages, pirate coves and medieval castles so intricately constructed you might mistake them for real historical ruins, if not for their size.

Every room in the museum becomes a portal: One minute you’re peeking into a perfectly replicated 18th century salon; the next you’re gazing at a futuristic cityscape with hover cars no bigger than buttons. 

Whether you’re a seasoned collector or a wide-eyed child, it’s impossible not to leave without a new appreciation for craftsmanship at its smallest scale. And somewhere between the dollhouse graveyards and tiny saloons, grownups find themselves grinning like they’re 6 again.

The Mini Time Machine Museum of Miniatures

Phone: 520-881-0606


4455 East Camp Lowell Drive
Tucson, AZ 85712


Arizona Copper Art Museum

Clarkdale’s Arizona Copper Art Museum celebrates the state’s mining legacy. The sprawling collection features pieces ranging from medieval copper armor and royal cookware to champagne buckets, fireman’s nozzles and intricate decorative tiles. What ties them all together is copper — glinting under soft museum lights, speaking to both history and metallurgy.

Exhibits are curated in ways that surprise and delight. One hallway presents antique kitchen wares gleaming like modern art. Another showcases battlefield gear worn by knights, side-by-side with World War-era artillery shells. It’s a reminder that this reddish metal didn’t just fuel Arizona’s economy — it shaped global culture, war, art and survival.

Every gleam and shimmer is an invitation to reflect on how something so industrial could also be so beautiful.

Arizona Copper Art Museum

Phone: 928-649-1858

849 Main Street
Clarkdale, AZ 86324

Best Western Space Age Lodge 

Out in Gila Bend, just off I-8, rises one of Arizona’s most delightfully kitschy landmarks: the Best Western Space Age Lodge. With its retro-futuristic design, spaceship signage and UFO murals, it’s part motel, part time capsule — and all in on the space theme.

Originally opened in the 1960s during the height of the Space Race, the lodge has leaned into its Jetsons-style charm ever since. The rooms are named after celestial bodies, the onsite Space Age Restaurant serves comfort food under a flying saucer ceiling, and the whole place lights up at night like a sci-fi movie set that never quite made it to Hollywood.

You’ll get an affordable stay with a side of pure Americana that’s out of this world. It’s not Area 51 — but it’s arguably the next best thing if you’re cruising through the Arizona desert and want a photo op with an alien.

Best Western Space Age Lodge 

Phone: 928-683-2273

401 East Pima Street
Gila Bend, AZ 85337

The Museum of Indigenous People

The former Smoki Museum in Prescott is both a tribute and a reckoning. Originally founded by a group of White locals who imitated Native American ceremonies, the museum has since undergone a profound transformation. Today, it works to honor and accurately represent indigenous cultures, particularly those from the Southwest.

Artifacts include baskets, jewelry and ceremonial dress — displayed with proper context and respect. Educational panels address the museum’s problematic origins head-on, encouraging visitors to reflect on cultural appropriation, reconciliation and responsibility. It’s one of Arizona’s most thought-provoking and evolving cultural centers.

The Museum of Indigenous People

Phone: 928-445-1230

147 North Arizona Avenue
Prescott, AZ 86301

The Tombstone Epitaph Newspaper and Museum

In Tombstone — the town too tough to die — you’ll find the Epitaph museum, chronicling one of the most famous newspapers of the Old West. This isn’t just a collection of dusty front pages. It’s a walk through Arizona’s journalistic grit, with stories of gunfights, outlaws and frontier justice printed with inky pride.

You can see the original press, learn about the life and times of editor John Clum, and even buy reprints of iconic headlines, including coverage of the legendary O.K. Corral shootout. It’s a slice of media history served with a shot of whiskey-flavored nostalgia.

The Tombstone Epitaph Newspaper and Museum

Phone: 520-457-2211

11 South 5th Street
Tombstone, AZ 85638

Museum of Northern Arizona

The Museum of Northern Arizona sits at the edge of the San Francisco Peaks, offering a blend of anthropology, biology and indigenous heritage. From ancient Hopi pottery to fossils of Triassic creatures, the exhibits build a timeline that connects people and planet in an unforgettable arc.

Highlights include breathtaking Navajo textiles, intricate Zuni carvings, and live geology demonstrations that reveal how this rugged terrain came to be. For travelers looking to balance their oddball adventures with a dose of scholarly wonder, this stop in Flagstaff is a must.

Museum of Northern Arizona

Phone: 928-774-5213

3101 North Fort Valley Road
Flagstaff, AZ 86001

San Carlos Apache Cultural Museum

The Apache Cultural Museum provides an intimate, deeply personal look at this indigenous band’s history and heritage. Unlike larger institutions, it’s run by local Apache people, and that authenticity pulses through every artifact and story.

Weapons, cradleboards, beadwork and historical photos line the walls. But it’s the oral histories — passed from elder to youth — that give the space its heartbeat. Visitors leave not just with facts, but with faces and names, and a deeper respect for what it means to carry cultural identity through centuries of struggle and survival.

San Carlos Apache Cultural Museum

Phone: 928-475-2894

Mile Marker 272
Highway 70
Peridot, AZ 85542

Tovrea Castle at Carraro Heights

Tovrea Castle looms over Phoenix like a three-tiered cake sculpted by whimsy and desert dreams. Built in the 1930s by Italian immigrant Alessio Carraro, the structure was intended as a hotel but quickly became a curiosity. Surrounded by 44 acres of cactus gardens, it looks like something out of a surrealist Western film.

Tours are available by reservation only, adding to its air of exclusivity and mystery. Inside, guests get a look at vintage furnishings and learn the strange history of the Carraro family’s ambitions — and how this castle became one of Arizona’s most iconic roadside silhouettes.

Tovrea Castle at Carraro Heights

Phone: 602-256-3221

5025 East Van Buren Street
Phoenix, AZ 85008

From Jim Roark’s Metal Monsters exhibit at the Museum of Miniatures

Arizona’s Weird Is Wonderful

Arizona doesn’t hide its oddities. It flaunts them. Each museum, collection or offbeat roadside stop is a love letter to curiosity, eccentricity and stories that don’t fit into mainstream museum walls. Whether you’re marveling at miniature furniture, learning about indigenous customs, or debating alien contact with a man in a tinfoil hat, you’re taking part in a state-sized celebration of the unexpected.

So load up the car, keep your eyes peeled for copper armor and friendly E.T.s, and embrace the wild, weird wonder that’s Arizona’s museum scene.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Burnham Block: Milwaukee’s Forgotten Vision for Affordable Homes

Wright’s American System-Built Homes still stand on Burnham Block, a quiet testament to his dream of housing for the middle class.

Well before he designed Fallingwater in Pennsylvania, Wright poured his energy into a very different kind of project — producing more than 900 drawings and over 30 standardized model variations for the American System-Built Homes: a line of modest, affordable houses for America’s middle-class families.

So when Wally and I planned a long weekend in Milwaukee, one of our top priorities was visiting the Burnham Block. Tucked between 27th Street and Layton Boulevard, this quiet stretch of West Burnham Street is home to six of Wright’s homes — examples of one of the most ambitious design efforts of his career and the largest collection of this housing style in the country. 

“At just 805 square feet, it’s the smallest of any house Wright designed.”

Fun fact: The thoroughfare was named after George Burnham, a brick manufacturer and real estate investor in the city. The cream-colored bricks his company produced helped give Milwaukee its nickname, the Cream City. 

“An American Home” 

After snapping a few photos outside, Wally and I ducked into the gift shop at the back of one of the duplexes currently undergoing restoration. From there we made our way to the front room to join our tour group and meet our docent, Rhonda. Once everyone was settled in, she broke the ice by asking where we were all from, and to our surprise, one family had traveled all the way from Italy.

She asked the group to imagine what a real estate ad might highlight today, and we quickly called out the usual features: square footage, number of bedrooms, location and price — basically everything related to the building itself. 

Holding up a full-page advertisement that ran in the Chicago Tribune in July 1917, titled “You Can Own an American Home” and attributed to then-copywriter Sherwood Anderson, she read the following excerpt aloud:

“There’s a bright, cheerful home waiting for you and your family — better built, excellently planned, far more livable. More beautiful? Yeah, it’ll have that rare thing: genuine architectural beauty, designed by a leader among architects. You select your plan; it’s built to your order. Constructed by a system that guarantees a high-grade building at a known price. In short, an American home.”

Rhonda pointed out that it wasn’t really about any of the features we had mentioned; it was about selling a lifestyle. And one big thing the ad omitted? Wright’s name — and that was no accident. 

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RELATED: Graycliff: Frank Lloyd Wright’s Love Letter to Lake Erie

Wally’s last name is also Wright, but, sadly, he’s never found a familial link to Frank.

When “Wright” Was a Bad Word

By 1915, the architect’s personal life had become tabloid fodder. In 1909 he had famously abandoned his wife and six children to run off to Europe with Mamah Borthwick Cheney — the wife of a former client and the woman at the center of a scandalous, widely publicized affair. 

Both were still married to their respective spouses when they left. Mamah got a divorce from her husband when they returned, but Wright wouldn’t officially be divorced from his wife, Catherine, for another six years. 

The scandal deepened in 1914, when a servant at Taliesin — Wright’s home and studio in Wisconsin — set fire to the building and axed down Mamah, her two children, and four others as they fled the flames. The tragedy made front-page headlines and further tarnished Wright’s reputation.

Rhonda went on to explain that what most people don’t realize is just how deeply Wright believed in what he called “democratic architecture.” To him the idea was simple: If you had a good job, you should also be able to afford a thoughtfully designed home. But Wright, for all his vision, didn’t quite know how to make that dream scalable. 

A Partnership With Arthur Richards

That's where Milwaukee developer Arthur L. Richards came in. He had previously collaborated with Wright on the Hotel Geneva, a lakeside resort that once stood on the shores of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Richards had the resources and business network Wright lacked, and he was able to turn the architect's vision into a viable housing project. 

Assuming the advertisement piqued your curiosity, your next stop would be to visit a local distributor. At the time, many young families were buying homes from the pages of mail-order catalogs — think Craftsman-style kits sold by Sears, Roebuck and Co. 

But Wright’s American System-Built Homes were different. They were modern, meticulously detailed, and built to his exacting standards. Customers could choose from roughly 30 standardized models, each offering a range of customizable options, including the floor plan, roof style (flat, hip or gable), custom furniture and art glass windows. You added up your choices, saw the total at the bottom, and that’s what you paid. 

Prices started at $1,875 and rose to about $3,500 once completed — remarkably modest for any home, much less a Wright-designed one, especially given his reputation for commissions that routinely ran over budget. It may sound like a lot for 1915, but homes of comparable size and quality typically sold for 10% to 15% more. This relative affordability was largely due to Richards, whose oversight kept costs down and brought Wright’s designs to a broader market.

To achieve this, the Richards Company pre-cut lumber and other materials in a mill and shipped them to the build site by rail — a method that offered greater efficiency and quality control than traditional site-built construction.

Preserving a Legacy: Restoration Efforts at Burnham Block

Once we had a sense of the project's background, Rhonda led us outside and enthusiastically shared more about this row of homes’ history and significance. Built on speculation between October 1915 and July 1916 the block includes four two-family Flat C (Model 7A) duplexes and two single-family bungalows: one Model B1 with a flat roof and one Model C3 with a hipped roof. 

She highlighted the importance of ongoing preservation efforts, noting that five of the six houses are now owned by Frank Lloyd Wright’s Burnham Block, a nonprofit organization dedicated to the care and stewardship of these historic structures.

“There’s no paid staff,” she told us. “We’re all volunteers. Every single dollar you spend, whether it’s on admission, in the gift shop or as a donation goes directly toward the care of these buildings.”

She went on to explain that the exterior of Duplex 4, the building we had just exited, was restored in 2013 and 2014 with the help of a Save America’s Treasures matching grant. The grant was awarded by the Department of the Interior and is managed by the National Park Service to support the preservation of nationally significant historic sites. Work on the interior, she noted, is still underway. 

“We did get a grant from the government,” she added. “But we’re unsure if we’ll actually receive that money. So for now, we’re kind of on hold, waiting to see what happens.” The hope is that they’ll be able to start restoration efforts on Bungalow Model C3 this year. 

When Richards selected the site for the housing project, it was considered the edge of town — still largely rural and known for its celery fields. An electric streetcar line ran along Burnham Street, connecting the area to the rest of the city. The City Service line provided access to downtown Milwaukee, while the Interurban line extended as far as East Troy. At the time, most people didn’t own cars, but they had access to mass transit, one of the key reasons these homes were built here.  

We paused for a moment in front of 2720 West Burnham Street — the only duplex on the block that isn't owned by the nonprofit.

Rhonda gave us a quick rundown of its history, explaining that a young couple who knew the legacy of the two-flat purchased the property in the early 1980s and converted it into a single-family home with three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a modern kitchen. She added that they installed the art glass windows and red square, a visual element found in many of Wright's designs. Nearly 30 years later, it was sold to its current owner, who now rents it out on Vrbo.

“I’ve been told it sleeps about nine — so if you decide to rent it, don’t forget to invite me!” Rhonda added with a chuckle. 

A Tour of Model B1

A short walk later, we found ourselves standing outside Model B1 at 2714 West Burnham Street. Rhonda affectionately referred to it as the “baby bungalow,” and at just 805 square feet, it’s the smallest of any house Wright designed. It was purchased in 2004 and fully restored to its 1916 appearance in 2008 and 2009. Today, it’s open to the public as a house museum. 

Rhonda shared that the home’s original exterior, like the others, was finished with a material called Elastica stucco. It was manufactured in Chicago and promoted at the time as an affordable and durable option. Initially praised for its smooth appearance, it later proved unreliable and was found to contain asbestos, requiring careful remediation during restoration.

Today, the exterior has been refinished with Pebble Dash — a type of stucco embedded with small stones that are sprayed onto the surface while it’s still wet. The result is a tactile, durable façade that honors the original intent while complying with modern safety standards.

Wright’s Bag of Tricks

Before we even stepped through the front door, we passed beneath a low overhang that extended above the entrance, an unmistakable hallmark of Wright’s design philosophy. It was a classic example of his compress-and-release technique: a moment of spatial compression at the threshold that heightened the sense of openness and volume once inside. 

Crossing that threshold, we entered the living room, the heart of the home, where a central hearth commanded attention. More than just a source of warmth, it was another signature of Wright’s architecture: a symbolic and literal centerpiece meant to anchor family life.

At the front of the room, floor-to-ceiling windows brought in natural light and made the space feel larger. Thanks to the height and placement of the front porch, anyone seated inside could enjoy a sense of openness and connection with the outdoors while still maintaining a sense of privacy, as the porch blocks direct views from passersby. 

This sense of openness was made possible, in part, by Wright’s innovative use of balloon-frame construction, a technique where long vertical studs run continuously from the foundation to the roof. In the American System-Built Homes, these studs are spaced 24 inches apart — wider than the typical 16 inches — based on a 2-foot modular grid. This grid made it easier for Richards’ team of builders to position them with greater flexibility, without needing to rework the structure of the walls.

Rhonda pointed out that Wright’s design pulled out all the stops to make this tiny house feel larger than it is. By cleverly “stealing space,” the walls flanking the wraparound hearth draw the eye back toward the foyer and the hallway beyond, creating a sense of depth and openness.

She also noted that most of the woodwork inside the house is original. While telling us about the built-in cabinetry in the living room, she explained that it not only acts as a partition but also cleverly accommodates a dining table that can be tucked away or pulled out — transforming the living room into a dining area as needed. 

To the right of the built-in, a doorway leads to the breakfast nook and kitchen. Vertical wooden slats separate the nook, offering a sense of division without fully enclosing the space, another subtle feature that reinforces an overall feeling of openness. 

The kitchen was fitted with wood cabinetry and the most adorable tiny oven I’d ever seen.

Rhonda added that the glass fronts on the upper cabinets were intentional: designed to catch and reflect light, they help create the illusion of a larger, airier room.

The private space of the home includes the primary bedroom, a children’s bedroom, a bathroom, and both coat and linen closets (a rare feature in a Wright home). A central light well draws natural light into the core of the house, brightening the interior. 

In the primary bedroom, ukiyo-e Japanese woodblock prints reflect Wright’s long-standing admiration for Japanese art and design, while the children’s room features charming illustrations created by his younger sister, Maginel Wright Enright. 

An American Dream That Never Caught On

This development embodied a bold vision of the American Dream. These homes weren’t just places to live; they were a blueprint for how entire neighborhoods of affordable, well-designed housing might take shape across the country. 

That vision extended far beyond this single block. Wright was never one to think small, and he and Richards imagined these homes not as a one-off experiment but as the beginning of something far-reaching. They envisioned entire subdivisions filled with variations on these models, stretching across the U.S. and into Canada. If everything went according to plan, the project could generate more than a million dollars in revenue. 

The six homes on Burnham Street were completed on July 5, 1916 — just 10 days before Milwaukee hosted a massive Preparedness Parade in support of U.S. involvement in World War I. But the war would soon derail Wright and Richards’ ambitious plans. As building materials were diverted to the war effort and the housing market grew uncertain, their grand project ground to a halt. 

In the end, only about a dozen American System-Built Homes were ever constructed — six on Burnham Street and a handful of others scattered throughout the Midwest. Eventually, Wright and Richards had a falling out, culminating in Wright successfully suing Richards for non-payment. Under their agreement, Wright was to receive royalties for each house sold. But a major flaw in the arrangement was that Richards wasn’t required to report each sale to Wright, making it impossible for Wright to know how many homes were actually built. That lack of transparency, combined with missed payments, led to growing mistrust and ultimately ended their partnership. 

Although the Burnham Block is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, discovering the homes felt like stumbling upon a hidden gem. These aren’t the Wright homes that capture a lot of attention.

Tours are available by reservation only and are led by trained docents who offer insight into the history and design of the homes. –Duke

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Before You Go

Phone: 414-368-0060

Admission: $20; children under 16 free

Times: Tours at 11 a.m., 12 p.m., 1 p.m. and 2 p.m.

Tours last about one hour.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Burnham Block

2732 West Burnham Street
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
USA

 

The Best Road Trips in New South Wales: From Coast to Country

From coastal drives like the Grand Pacific and Sapphire Coast to foodie loops through Orange and Mudgee, discover the best road trips in New South Wales — including Snowy Mountains, Waterfall Way, and quirky roadside stops from Sydney to Eden.

New South Wales is one of Australia’s most visited states — and with good reason. Its coastline alone is a stunner, dotted with cliff-hugging walks and surf towns where the locals still say g’day without irony. Head inland and you’ll swap salty air for lush rainforests, towering waterfalls and rugged high country that feels a million miles from the sea.

Whether you’re camping under a riot of stars, shacking up in a retro motel, or living your best van life, NSW delivers. The roads are generally smooth, the phone signal’s surprisingly reliable, and there’s no shortage of campgrounds, cosy cabins or Airbnbs to call it a night.

“From coastal gems to country heartlands (with a few oddball attractions thrown in), here are the best road trips across New South Wales.”

So, buckle up. From coastal gems to country heartlands (with a few oddball attractions thrown in), here are the best road trips across New South Wales.

Into the Country: Road Trips Through NSW’s Outback

Snowy Mountains Drive

If you’re craving crisp alpine air and scenery that swaps gum trees for snow gums (plus the occasional wombat waddling across the road), then make sure you stop on the Great River Road — a stretch that hugs the Upper Murray and is the kind of place where you’ll want to pull over every five minutes just to gawk at the views.

You’ll find plenty of pitstops along the GRR worth your time. Don’t miss a breather (and maybe a slab of hummingbird cake) at Tintaldra Store & Tearooms, a delightfully old-school spot in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town that’s been serving travelers and trout fishers since the 1800s. It’s the sort of place where the tea is poured into mismatched china and you’re encouraged to linger.

Push on toward Khancoban, a great base for exploring the western approaches to Kosciuszko National Park. From there, you can lace up your boots for a day hike to see Australia’s highest peak (don’t worry, you won’t need an ice axe — unless you’re doing it in deep winter). Or just throw a line in the Swampy Plains River, famous for trout that practically jump onto your hook.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Snowies road trip without refueling at one of the hearty mountain pubs. Try Jindabyne Brewing microbrewery for a local lager with cracking lake views, or the Banjo Paterson Inn, where après-ski culture reigns year-round, and schnitzels arrive bigger than your head.

The Foodie Loop: Orange, Mudgee and the Central Tablelands

You could also start your adventure in Orange, a town that’s become something of a pilgrimage for food and wine lovers. Thanks to its elevation, this region is the beating heart of cool-climate wines in NSW — think delicate pinots and crisp chardonnays that sing with the local produce.

On your way toward Mudgee, detour through Millthorpe, a village so pretty it looks like it was built purely for Sunday strolls and Instagram. Pop into Angullong Vineyard’s Cellar Door, housed in an old bluestone stable, or duck into Tamburlaine Organic Wines just outside town. And if you’ve got a thing for slightly bonkers local history, the Golden Memories Millthorpe Museum has everything from antique farming gear to bushranger relics that’ll give you a taste of the region’s wilder days.

And for the folklore fans: This is bushranger country. The infamous Ben Hall once roamed these ranges, robbing stagecoaches and generally causing colonial chaos. Some pubs still claim he drank there (though, fair warning, just about every old pub in NSW will tell you the same).

New England High Country

Armidale is the beating heart of the region. It’s a university town, so there’s always a bit of a buzz. Grand churches like St. Mary and Joseph Catholic Cathedral loom over streets lined with bluestone and elm trees. Pop inside and you’ll see intricate stained glass that feels more European than Outback. From Armidale, take the Waterfall Way, arguably one of the prettiest drives in NSW. The name isn’t just poetic license; you’ll pass so many thundering cascades you’ll lose count. 

If your timing’s right, swing by Glen Innes, which goes full Highland fling for the Australian Celtic Festival each May. Think bagpipes echoing across the town, tartan markets, and even the odd nod to ancient traditions like Imbolc — though these days it’s more about whisky tastings and hearty stews. The Australian Standing Stones, perched on a hill just outside town, are a granite tribute to Celtic heritage that feels delightfully out of place in the Aussie bush.

And if you just want to kick back with a local drop, make a pitstop at Merilba Estate near Uralla, where cool-climate riesling and pinot noir pair beautifully with sweeping views over grazing country. Uralla itself has a frontier vibe, with bushranger Captain Thunderbolt’s grave right in town. Grab a pie at the Alternate Root café and swap ghost stories with whoever’s behind the counter (everyone seems to have one).

Coastal Cruising: NSW’s Most Stunning Drives by the Sea

The Legendary Pacific Coast Drive (Sydney to Byron Bay)

If you want to get up close and personal with Australia’s surf scene, this is the road trip that’ll have you grinning like a sandy, sunburnt idiot. Start by hugging the shore through the Central Coast, then head on to Newcastle, a former steel city now reborn as a hip little hub of craft breweries, street art and rooftop bars. 

Next up, Port Stephens is all about dolphins. Join a tour from Nelson Bay and watch pods arc through the water right alongside your boat, or just park yourself on the beach and keep your eyes peeled.

A bit farther up, Crescent Head is where the vibe turns properly laidback. Tiny, friendly and obsessed with its famous right-hand point break, this town is a pilgrimage for longboarders chasing that endless ride. Even if you’re not keen to paddle out, grab a coffee at Barnetts Bakery, plonk yourself on the headland, and watch the locals carve it up.

Grand Pacific Drive (Sydney to Kiama and Beyond)

If you’re looking for a day trip that offers great views without taking an entire day of driving, look no further. This ride from Sydney, down through the Illawarra and on to Kiama, is a winner. The Grand Pacific Drive has some of the most cinematic views possible (hello, flying over the ocean on the famous Sea Cliff Bridge, where you feel like you’re driving right into the ocean).

You’ve got old mining towns, like Coalcliff and Helensburgh, that are still proudly rugged and industrial-looking. But find the right locals and you’ll be in for yarns about miners’ strikes and secret union meetings, and hear about the pit ponies that used to haul coal from the bowels of the hills.

Shipwrecks and lost sailors — another tale as old as time. There have been many victims along the Illawarra coast over the years, and according to legend, you can still see the remains of the jagged metal in the shallow water off Bass Point, a testament to the power of this sea when the southerlies are howling.

On to Kiama, where you can check out the famous blowhole, booming water into the air whenever there’s a decent swell. The best part? Hang around until the oblivious tourists have all crowded to the fence taking selfies, and watch them jump and scream as they get soaked by an unexpected blast. Classic Kiama. Good fun and completely guilt-free.

Sapphire Coast (Batemans Bay to Eden)

This stretch of coast is where NSW loosens its tie and kicks off its shoes. Known as the Sapphire Coast for reasons that become blindingly obvious the moment you see the water, this drive is all about slowing down and letting the locals steer you toward the good stuff.

I’d kick this one off in Batemans Bay, where oyster leases ripple across the Clyde River and you can sample the freshest shuck of your life at the Oyster Shed on Wray Street. It’s practically a rite of passage around here. If you’ve never slurped down a still-quivering Sydney rock oyster while standing on a sun-warmed jetty, are you even road-tripping?

Of course, this coast is whale-watching central, especially from late winter to spring, when humpbacks migrate. Eden is your best bet: Once a bustling whaling town (there’s some dark history here), it’s now home to the Eden Killer Whale Museum, a delightfully old-school institution that tells tales of Old Tom, a killer whale who allegedly used to help local whalers hunt — a weird, very Australian piece of folklore if ever there was one.

And if you like your roadside attractions delightfully odd, don’t miss the giant mermaid sculptures in Merimbula. Locals are so used to them they barely blink, but newcomers often do a double-take.

Quirky Roadside Stops and Offbeat Detours in NSW

No true Aussie road trip is complete without pulling over for something wonderfully weird. This is a country that loves a “big thing” — a playful national habit of building enormous versions of everyday objects and proudly sticking them on the tourist map.

On your New South Wales travels you’ll spot plenty of these giants. Snap a selfie under the Big Banana in Coffs Harbour, the original oversized icon that’s been delighting kids (and slightly confusing international visitors) since 1964. Farther inland, the concrete Big Merino in Goulburn stands tall and stoic, like a woolly monarch watching over passing caravans. Swing by for a photo, then pop inside (yes, inside the sheep) to learn a little about the region’s wool industry.

But it’s not just about the big and bizarre. In Gundagai, there’s a whole museum dedicated to the , a legend immortalising bush perseverance (and a statue that gets more than its fair share of questionable Instagram poses). 

Road Trip Tips for NSW

When it comes to road tripping around NSW, timing is everything. Spring and autumn hit the sweet spot across most routes, while winter is made for cosy pubs and snow-dusted hikes in the high country. Summer? That’s your cue to chase sea breezes and shady beer gardens. Just remember: NSW is bigger than it looks on a map; drives can be long and winding, so keep an eye on your fuel gauge, cue up a few extra playlists, and embrace the joy of random bakery stops. 

And wherever you roam, respect the land you’re crossing. Many of these roads weave through Indigenous country, so stick to marked tracks, steer clear of sacred sites, and leave no trace behind. It’s the simplest way to ensure the next traveler (and the local wildlife) gets to enjoy it just as much as you did. –Ellen Mahoney

RELATED: Top Road Trip Routes Across Victoria, Australia 

Hidden Gems of Morocco: 7 Underrated Places Worth Exploring

Escape the crowds and discover the authentic Morocco — from cave homes to ancient libraries. These underrated destinations in Morocco offer culture, adventure and a lot fewer tourists.

When most people think of Morocco, names like Marrakech, Fès or the Sahara instantly come to mind. And while these places are undeniably stunning, there’s a whole other side to the country that often gets overlooked — one you can truly discover through immersive Morocco desert tours, revealing untouched landscapes, ancient culture and authentic experiences waiting quietly in the shadows.

Let’s go beyond the Instagram hotspots and dive deep into seven underrated places in Morocco that are absolutely worth your time. Ready to wander off the beaten path?

“The real Morocco isn’t always in the tour book, but it’s waiting for you just the same.”

1. El Jadida: A Coastal Fortress of Portuguese Legacy

Overview and History

Nestled along Morocco’s Atlantic coast, El Jadida is a unique fusion of Moroccan soul and Portuguese history. Once known as Mazagan, this port city was fortified by the Portuguese in the 16th century.

What to See and Do

• The Portuguese Cistern: A hauntingly beautiful underground chamber, known for its perfectly symmetrical arches and eerie reflection pools

• City Walls: Walk along the historic ramparts and enjoy sweeping ocean views

• Plage El Haouzia: A quieter alternative to the country’s more commercial beaches

Best Time to Visit

Spring and early autumn are ideal — pleasant weather, fewer tourists and beautiful ocean breezes.

2. Tafraoute: The Heart of the Anti-Atlas

Cultural and Natural Highlights

Located in a valley surrounded by pink granite mountains, Tafraoute is an oasis of tranquility. The village is famous for its peculiar rock formations and rich Berber culture.

• Painted Rocks: Belgian artist Jean Vérame transformed local boulders into surreal artworks using vibrant colors

• Traditional Berber Villages: Get a true taste of Moroccan hospitality with a home-stay experience

Trekking and Biking Opportunities

Tafraoute is also a hidden gem for trekkers and cyclists, with trails snaking through palm groves, narrow canyons and desert plateaus.

3. Sidi Ifni: Spanish Legacy by the Sea

Spanish-Moorish Architecture

Sidi Ifni is a sleepy coastal town with a distinct vibe — a relic of Spanish colonization, it feels like stepping into another time. The Art Deco buildings and Spanish signage still linger.

Legzira Beach and Rock Formations

Just six miles (10 kilometers) north, you’ll find Legzira Beach with its natural red sandstone arches that glow in the evening sun. It’s a dramatic, cinematic slice of Morocco most travelers skip.

4. Akchour: A Waterfall Wonderland

Hiking Trails and Natural Pools

If you’re staying in Chefchaouen, Akchour is just a short drive away. It’s an emerald paradise where you’ll find hiking trails, freshwater pools and waterfalls that look like scenes out of a fairy tale.

The Bridge of God

One of the trail’s biggest highlights is the Pont de Dieu — a natural stone arch suspended over a canyon. Nature’s version of the Eiffel Tower, minus the crowds.

5. Ouzoud: Beyond the Waterfalls

Wild Barbary Apes

While Ouzoud’s 360-foot (110-meter) waterfall steals the show, the surrounding forest is home to playful Barbary macaques, often seen swinging through olive trees.

Hidden Hikes and Local Life

Venture off the main path and you’ll discover tiny villages, hidden viewpoints and family-run tajine spots where the flavors are as rich as the views.

6. Tamegroute: Morocco’s Ancient Library and Pottery Town

The Hidden Koranic Library

Tamegroute is one of Morocco’s best-kept secrets. This tiny village near Zagora houses an ancient Quranic library with manuscripts dating back to the 11th century.

Unique Green Pottery

What makes this village even more special is its distinct green-glazed pottery, fired in traditional clay ovens. It’s imperfect, earthy and completely charming.

7. Bhalil: The Cave House Village

Stay in Berber Caves

Just outside Fès lies Bhalil — a small village where many homes are literally carved into the hillside caves. Unlike modern cave hotels, these are still lived in by Berber families.

Authenticity at Its Peak

You’ll be welcomed with tea, homemade bread and big smiles. No entry tickets, no waiting lines — just real life unfolding in front of your eyes.

Tips for Discovering Morocco’s Hidden Treasures

Hire local guides. 

Many of these places are off-grid. Hiring a local guide not only supports the community but also helps you uncover stories and places you’d otherwise miss.

Travel in the off-season. 

Skip the high seasons and travel during shoulder months (March to May or September to November). You’ll dodge the crowds and often score better deals on accommodations.

Learn a few Darija phrases. 

Even basic words like shukran (thank you) or salaam (hello) go a long way in rural areas. Locals will appreciate the effort, and you’ll likely get warmer treatment.

Why You Should Skip the Crowds and Go Off the Beaten Path

Sometimes, the most profound travel moments happen away from the obvious. Whether it’s sipping mint tea in a cave house, stumbling upon ancient manuscripts, or watching the sun dip behind a sandstone arch — these lesser-known gems will give you stories no guidebook can.

Want to dive deeper into planning your adventure? Check out this Morocco tour guide for expert tips, must-see destinations and everything you need to know before you go.

Morocco is a land of contrast — mountains, deserts, beaches, cities and silence. If you’re the kind of traveler who enjoys meaningful, raw and less commercialized experiences, these seven hidden gems will win your heart. So, step off the tourist trail and let Morocco surprise you in the most unexpected ways.

FAQs

1. What is the safest hidden gem in Morocco to visit solo?

Tafraoute is ideal for solo travelers. It’s calm and friendly, and the locals are extremely welcoming.

2. How do I get to Akchour from Chefchaouen?

Shared taxis or private transport from Chefchaouen will get you to Akchour in under an hour.

3. Is it expensive to visit these underrated places in Morocco?

No — in fact, many of these spots are budget-friendly and less commercial, meaning you get more value for your money.

4. What language is spoken in small Moroccan villages?

Mostly Amazigh (Berber) and Darija (Moroccan Arabic), but some locals speak basic French, too.

5. Are these hidden gems suitable for family travel?

Absolutely! Places like Ouzoud and El Jadida are especially fun for kids and easy to access for families. 

So go ahead — chase the waterfalls, sip tea in a cave, lose your breath at sunset. The real Morocco isn’t always in the tour book, but it’s waiting for you just the same. –Abe Abdessamad

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Laughs, Lessons and Local Life: A Real-World Egypt Family Adventure

From camel chaos to temple adventures, this Egypt family travel story blends ancient sites, kid-powered mishaps and heartfelt local moments into one unforgettable trip.

There’s nothing quite like watching your 8-year-old barter for papyrus scrolls with a Cairo street vendor. His tactic? Dramatic sighing and a mournful “But I only have 10 pounds.” (It worked, by the way.) 

And so began our deep dive into the chaos, charm and contradictions of Egypt, a land where ancient monuments meet honking tuk-tuks, and your kid suddenly becomes a pint-sized negotiator.

“We discovered that letting go — of schedules, expectations, WiFi — leads to the kinds of memories you can’t make in a classroom or on a screen.”

We hadn’t planned on falling in love. Egypt had been one of those “Well, it’s educational” destinations, a check-the-box history lesson for the kids. But within 24 hours of landing, our agenda unraveled. Not in a bad way, but in that glorious, sun-drenched, sand-between-your-toes kind of way where plans give way to experiences. Opting for one of the curated Egypt tours packages turned out to be our greatest travel hack, providing structure where we needed it, and freedom where we craved it.

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BEFORE YOU GO: Ancient Egyptian Words You Should Know

Feluccas, Falafel and Family Chaos

Our first Nile-side morning began with mint tea and a hotel balcony view that could humble even the most screen-addicted teen. The Nile shimmered like it knew it was important. Down below, feluccas caught the morning light, while a rooster (somehow on the sixth floor?) reminded us that alarm clocks are overrated.

Breakfast was a lesson in logistics, three kids, four plates of ful medames, and one very opinionated guide named Amira, who declared, “Today we walk like Egyptians.” Cue eye rolls from the teenagers. Cue “Walk Like an Egyptian” humming from dad. Cue me silently questioning my life choices.

Yet by midday, we were temple-hopping with the best of them. Karnak left us speechless, partly because of its scale, and partly because we were playing “spot the gods” while sweating profusely. The kids learned to recognize Horus and Anubis like old cartoon characters. I learned that wearing white linen isn’t just stylish; it’s survival.

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HOLY HORUS! The Major Egyptian Gods and Goddesses

Kids, Camels and Culture Shock

Camel rides? Predictably chaotic. Our youngest named his camel Beyoncé. Beyoncé had opinions. Mostly about not walking straight. Still, nothing beats watching your children burst into uncontrollable laughter as their parents bounce wildly through the desert like disjointed marionettes.

But it wasn’t all slapstick. Somewhere between Giza and Aswan, the lessons snuck in. Our middle child, who rarely looks up from her phone, asked if we could visit a Coptic church “just to see.” Later, our eldest scribbled down notes about hieroglyphs, claiming it was “for a school project.” (Sure it was.) And all of us, parents included, began saying “Inshallah” with frightening regularity.

The Food That Made Us Stay a Little Longer

Egyptian food is like that cousin who insists you try just one more bite. And then five more. Shawarma wraps became our lunch religion. Koshari, a carb-on-carb-on-carb masterpiece, had the kids questioning everything they thought they knew about dinner. And don’t even get me started on the desserts: basbousa, konafa — sticky, sweet, and somehow always appearing just when you said you were full.

One night, our guide invited us for a home-cooked meal with her extended family. We sat on floor cushions, passed dishes around with our hands, and managed to communicate with smiles, hand gestures, and the universal language of children upending a bowl of lentils.

What We Took Home (Besides Sand in Our Socks)

Travel doesn’t always go as planned. You miss a train. Someone gets food poisoning. You accidentally offend a shopkeeper by declining tea. (Pro tip: Just drink the tea.) But in Egypt, those moments weren’t failures; they were the trip.

Our youngest now claims he wants to be an archaeologist. The middle one added “learn Arabic” to her birthday wish list. And we, the tired grownups, discovered that letting go — of schedules, expectations, WiFi — leads to the kinds of memories you can’t make in a classroom or on a screen.

So if you’re thinking of going, with kids, with chaos, with curiosity, Egypt’s got room for it all. Just pack extra patience, an open heart, and maybe a few 10-pound notes for some persuasive bargaining practice. –Jarno van Bazel

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MORE: Essential Egypt Travel Tips

Tips for Finding LPN Jobs Abroad With Travel Opportunities

Dreaming of nursing overseas? Here's how licensed practical nurses (LPNs) can find jobs abroad — plus what to watch out for before you go.

Let’s be honest: The dream of working abroad isn’t just for tech bro digital nomads with a laptop and a hammock. If you’re a licensed practical nurse (LPN), you may have a serious case of wanderlust — and a skillset the world genuinely needs.

Maybe you’ve always imagined yourself helping underserved communities in rural clinics. Maybe you want a taste of life in a totally different healthcare system. Either way, the good news is this: Gone are the days when nurses were expected to spend their entire career in one hospital corridor. Today, opportunities to live and work abroad are growing — and they’re not just for RNs.

So, how do you land one of these gigs? Start here. 

What to Know About LPN Jobs Abroad

Before you pack your stethoscope and passport, it’s worth noting that every country has its own rules and red tape. Some of it’s navigable. Some of it’s…less so. Either way, you’ll want to keep the following in mind:

• Licensing. Many countries require you to complete local training, pass an exam, or jump through a few bureaucratic hoops before you’re cleared to work. This can take time — so plan ahead.

• Languages. Not every hospital abroad operates in English. (Shocking, I know.) But some hospitals offer language support or cultural onboarding. It’s worth asking.

• Visas. Just because someone wants to hire you doesn’t mean you’ll get a visa. International politics can make things tricky — so always double-check the latest entry requirements for healthcare workers.

• Cultural adaptation. Working abroad isn’t just about a change of scenery; it’s a whole new way of life. From patient expectations to hierarchy and hours, the differences can be monumental. Try to connect with other nurses who’ve worked in your target country. Nothing beats firsthand insight.

Where to Look for LPN Jobs Abroad

Let’s talk logistics: Where do you actually find these jobs? Below are some of the best avenues for finding LPN jobs with a side of adventure.

1. Travel agencies for nurses

Yes, they exist. But before diving headfirst into agency life, we recommend starting with a broad search for travel nursing jobs on a platform like Jooble. It’s a great way to get a lay of the land: what’s out there, which countries are hiring, and what the job descriptions actually look like.

Once you have a clearer sense of your options, consider reaching out to travel nursing agencies. When comparing agencies, don’t forget to ask about:

• Salary and benefits. Make sure you’re covered — literally. That includes health insurance, housing stipends, travel expenses and any relocation support.

• Assignments offered. Some agencies specialize in urban hospitals. Others focus on rural or humanitarian work. Pick your adventure wisely.

• Reputation. Read reviews, join nursing forums and ask tough questions. A flashy website doesn’t guarantee reliable support once you’re overseas.

2. Hospital websites abroad

Many hospitals recruit directly, especially in countries facing nursing shortages. Some top destinations for international LPNs include:

• The United Kingdom. The NHS (National Health Service) is actively recruiting from abroad and offers solid benefits and onboarding support. If you’re considering the UK, check out this guide to the best neighborhoods in London to find the right place to live and work as a nurse abroad.

• The UAE and Saudi Arabia. These Middle East countries offer high pay, tax-free income and accommodations — but be sure to research cultural norms before you go.

• Ireland. With a growing demand for healthcare professionals, Ireland has been expanding its recruitment efforts for international nurses.

If a particular country intrigues you, search for major hospital websites and check their careers page. Bonus points if you reach out directly — they may have openings that aren’t widely posted.

3. Professional nursing organizations

These aren’t just for continuing education credits or annual dues. They can also be powerful tools for international job hunting. Look to:

1. ICN (International Council of Nurses). Active in over 130 countries, this organization offers job listings, policy info, and resources on nursing rights worldwide.

2. The American Nurses Association (ANA). If you’re U.S.-based, ANA is a great hub for networking, certification guidance and career resources.

3. NMC (The Nursing and Midwifery Council) in the UK. If you’re eyeing Britain, this is your official go-to.

Most countries have a version of these organizations. Find yours, and see if they have a global or outreach division.

4. Online job boards

Don’t sleep on the classics. Sites like Indeed, Glassdoor and LinkedIn often list international nursing jobs. While they may not all cater specifically to LPNs, many roles are labeled more broadly as “nurses” or “practical nurses.” Use multiple boards, track your applications carefully, and don’t be afraid to follow up.

Pro tip: Set up alerts for keywords like “LPN abroad,” “international nurse” or “travel nurse” plus the country name to stay ahead of new postings.

Get Ready to Move!

You’re already in one of the most respected and needed professions on the planet. Why not take those talents global?

Whether you’re hoping to work in a bustling London hospital, a remote health outpost in Nepal, or a sleek clinic in the Emirates, your nursing license could be your ticket to a whole new life. Just do your homework, check your credentials, and trust that the right opportunity is out there.

It’s not about escaping your current life — it’s about expanding it. It could be just what the doctor ordered. –Dmytro Leiba

Controversial Takes on the Tower of Babel

Why did God really scatter humanity at Babel? A tale of ambition, jealousy, power — and the tower that dared to reach the heavens.

The Tower of Babel by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1563

The story of the Tower of Babel is one of humanity’s earliest and most ambitious projects — a symbol of both unity and defiance. 

In Genesis, after Noah gets drunk and curses his grandson Canaan, the whole world spoke a single language and, as people settled in the plains of Shinar, they devised a plan: “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens” (Genesis 11:4). Their goal? To make a name for themselves and prevent being scattered across the Earth.

But their ambition drew the attention of God. Observing their progress, he said, “Behold, they are one people, and they all have one language … and nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them” (Genesis 11:6). And so, to disrupt their hubris, God confused their language, making it impossible for them to understand each other. The tower was abandoned, and the place became known as Babel. 

This brief but powerful narrative has sparked centuries of debate. What was so dangerous about this unified human effort? And does the name Babel hint at a deeper meaning? Let’s explore the surprising theories surrounding this ancient tale.

Turris Babel by Athanasius Kircher, 1679

Babel: What’s in a Name?

The name “Babel” plays a central role in this story, and its meaning has intrigued scholars for centuries. Genesis 11:9 tells us, “Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the Earth.” The Hebrew word balal, meaning “to confuse,” is a fitting explanation for the chaos that ensued when languages were divided. But there’s more to the name than a simple pun.

Historically, Babel is associated with Babylon, one of the most powerful cities in ancient Mesopotamia. In Akkadian, the word Bab-ilu means “Gate of the God(s),” which gives the story an ironic twist. What was meant to be a gateway to the divine became a symbol of divine judgment. Scholars like John H. Walton, in Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, suggests that the story reflects a jab at Babylon, a city known for its monumental architecture and imperial power.

In this context, the Tower of Babel may not just be a story of human pride but also a critique of Babylon’s attempts to centralize control and elevate itself to divine status. As the story unfolds, the name Babel takes on layers of meaning — confusion, divine intervention and the limits of human ambition.

From a manuscript of Rudolf von Ems’ Weltchronik, circa  1370s

The Tower: Architectural Marvel or Symbol of Tyranny?

What exactly was the Tower of Babel? Some see it as a simple architectural wonder, a testament to early human ingenuity. Others, however, argue that it was more symbolic — a representation of a dangerous kind of unity, one that leaned toward tyranny.

Scholars like André Parrot, in The Tower of Babel, point out that the tower could have been modeled after the ziggurats of Mesopotamia. These massive stepped structures weren’t just places of worship; they were symbols of power, often commissioned by rulers to display their authority and connection to the divine. In the case of Babel, the tower may have been a political statement as much as a religious one — a way for the people of Shinar (modern-day Iraq) to consolidate their power and make a name for themselves.

Bruce K. Waltke, in Genesis: A Commentary, takes this a step further, suggesting that the story represents a critique of human arrogance and centralized control. By attempting to build a tower “with its top in the heavens,” humanity was essentially overstepping its bounds, aiming to control not just the Earth, but the heavens, too. For God, much like with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, and that tempting fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, this was an example of human overreach. It also revealed mankind’s potential for tyranny. The scattering of people and languages, then, was more about disrupting a dangerous concentration of power.

Was the Tower of Babel merely a marvel of human engineering, or was it a warning about the dangers of unchecked ambition and centralized control? The story leaves room for both interpretations.

Tower of Babel by Lucas van Valckenborch, 1594

A Test of Unity or Divine Jealousy?

At the heart of the Tower of Babel story is a question: Why did God intervene? Was it simply a matter of preventing human overreach, or was there something more behind his actions? Some scholars argue that God’s decision to divide humanity was a way of protecting us from ourselves, while others suggest it could reflect a more unsettling aspect of divine jealousy.

The Babel story could represent God’s concern over humanity’s growing self-sufficiency. By working together with one language and a unified purpose, humanity was moving toward a level of technological and social advancement that might have made us too self-reliant — possibly even eliminating the need for divine authority. The creation of numerous languages, then, served as a divine check on human ambition, ensuring that we remain dependent on God’s guidance. (I’m not sure why he hasn’t stepped in since, say, with the rise of AI.) 

In other words, God was acting jealous and petty. Whether seen as protective or punitive, the confusion of languages suggests that unity without divine blessing was considered dangerous. Was it out of care or control that God intervened? Scholars continue to debate the deeper motivations behind this ancient narrative.

The Tower as a Return to Eden?

Could the Tower of Babel have been more than just a display of human ambition? Some scholars suggest that it represented humanity’s attempt to re-create the unity they once experienced in the Garden of Eden: a world where they lived in harmony with each other and with God.

Phyllis Trible, in Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives, explores the idea that the Babel project symbolized a desire to return to the original state of unity that existed before the Fall. In Eden, humanity walked in close proximity to God, speaking a divine language, free of conflict and strife. By building a tower “with its top in the heavens,” humans may have been trying to reclaim that lost connection and regain their place alongside the divine.

RELATED: What Does God Look Like?

John H. Walton, in The Lost World of Genesis One, sees things a bit rosier. He argues that God’s disruption of the Babel project was actually a protective act. After the Fall, humans were no longer capable of re-creating Eden through their own efforts. God’s scattering of people and languages could be seen as a way to prevent a repeat of the Fall — protecting humanity from trying to reenter a paradise they could no longer access without divine intervention.

RELATED: Controversial Takes on Cain and Abel

In this light, Babel becomes a story about the limits of human power and the dangers of trying to forcefully regain what was lost in Eden. The scattered languages and divided nations reflect the reality that Eden, and its perfect unity, is gone — at least until a new kind of divine reconciliation can be achieved.

The Confusion of Tongues by Gustave Doré, 1866

The Role of Language: Tool of Power or Divine Gift?

Language plays a crucial role in the story of Babel. The multiplying of languages is God’s method of halting the ambitious project. But what does this division of tongues truly represent? Was it a curse to fracture human unity, or could it be seen as a divine gift, ensuring cultural diversity and preventing totalitarianism?

Some scholars think that the confusion of languages was a political move. By disrupting a single language, God introduced a tool that ensures division and decentralization, preventing any one group from gaining unchecked power over the world. 

In this view, language becomes a form of control. It prevents unified rebellion or dominance by any one people, a theme that would echo through later biblical stories of empires rising and falling.

Others, like Joseph Blenkinsopp in Creation, Un-Creation, Re-Creation, propose that language diversity could be seen as part of God’s larger plan for humanity. Rather than cursing humanity with confusion, the diversity of languages allowed for cultural richness, individuality and the development of multiple civilizations. This theory suggests that pre-Babel unity wasn’t a utopian ideal, but rather a stifling form of uniformity. The multiplying of languages, then, might represent a divine gift that celebrates diversity and human potential in new and unexpected ways.

Theological Implications of Babel: Was God’s Action Justified?

The Tower of Babel story raises profound theological questions about the nature of God’s intervention. Was the scattering of people and languages a necessary measure to protect humanity, or was it an example of divine overreach? Scholars remain divided on whether God’s actions in this story reflect wisdom … or an overly controlling approach to human progress.

Walter Brueggemann, in Genesis: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, interprets God’s scattering of the people as a protective act. He suggests that God saw humanity’s unified ambition as leading toward potential self-destruction. By disrupting their efforts, God prevented them from becoming too powerful and overstepping their natural limits, much like the consequences faced in Eden. As God observed, “Nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them” (Genesis 11:6). In this view, divine intervention was an act of mercy, keeping humanity from a path that could have led to another downfall.

On the other hand, David J.A. Clines, in The Theme of the Pentateuch, offers a more critical perspective. Clines questions whether God’s disruption of human progress was truly necessary. What if humanity had been allowed to continue its work, even if it led to failure? This view suggests that God’s intervention may have been a way to maintain divine authority, ensuring that humanity could never challenge or rival God’s position. In this reading, the confusion of languages represents a limit imposed by God — not on humanity’s safety, but on its potential.

These contrasting perspectives raise a larger question: Was God justified in scattering humanity and fragmenting their language — or was it an overreaction to a collective project that may have been doomed to fail on its own? As with many Old Testament stories, the answer depends on how you interpret divine-human relationships and the boundaries between freedom and control.

Tower of Babel by Endre Rozsda, 1958

Babel’s Legacy

The Tower of Babel story is often seen as a straightforward tale about human pride and divine punishment. But as we’ve explored, it’s anything but simple. From questions about the true meaning of Babel’s name to debates over whether God’s actions were protective or controlling, this ancient narrative touches on themes of unity, power and the human desire for greatness. Was Babel a symbol of technological tyranny, a return to Eden, or an expression of divine jealousy? Each theory offers new insights into the relationship between humanity and the divine.

Ultimately, the Tower of Babel reminds us that the limits placed on human ambition — whether through language or culture — aren’t just about division, but about the complexity of freedom. As people reached for the heavens, they were brought back to earth, scattered, perhaps not as punishment but as a way to preserve our potential for diversity, creativity and growth. 

The conversation around Babel continues — in a variety of languages. –Wally

Madrid Legends and Ghost Stories: Haunting Tales From Spain’s Capital

Discover Madrid’s haunted history — from royal scandals to ghostly legends that still linger in its palaces, plazas and rooftops.

You could go almost anywhere on this spinning green globe — but Spain hits different. Sure, the sun-drenched beaches of Tenerife and Mallorca are calling, and flamenco in Sevilla is a whole event in itself. But if you’re like me, you want something more than a postcard. You want stories. Secrets. Shadows.

And while Sevilla has its share of ghost stories, I ended up in Madrid — not just for the churros and Goya paintings, but for the whispered legends hidden in its rooftops and courtyards.

A city of over 3 million residents, Madrid welcomes more than 10 million visitors a year — and for good reason. Beneath its modern buzz lies something older, stranger…and far more haunting.

Because everywhere you go in this city, the past follows.

Madrid: Where Legends Linger

Madrid might be one of Europe’s most modern cities — sleek, global, buzzing with energy — but scratch the surface, and you’ll find tales that have been passed down for centuries. Think royal cover-ups, wandering ghosts, and mysterious women who might’ve been wolves.

Let’s start with a few stories you won’t find on your average travel blog.

1. The House of the Seven Chimneys

In the heart of Madrid sits a 16th-century mansion with (you guessed it) seven chimneys poking into the skyline. The building was home to Elena, a young noblewoman married to a soldier who went off to war — and never came back. Soon after, Elena herself died under suspicious circumstances. Her body vanished without a trace.

Rumors swirled: Had she taken her own life? Was there foul play? Some even whispered she’d been entangled with a royal — possibly the son of Philip II.

To this day, people say her ghost still wanders the roof, weaving between the chimneys, searching.

2. The White Lady of Linares Palace

This one sounds like a Gothic novel, but the Linares Palace — now Casa de América — has its own ghostly drama. The story goes like this:

The Marquis of Linares fell in love with a humble cigarette vendor, and they had a daughter. Years later, his own son, unaware of her identity, married the girl. Only after their wedding — and after having a child — did they discover the truth: They were half-siblings.

What happened next is murky. One version claims the couple ended their child’s life in despair. Now, visitors report ghostly whispers and shadows in the palace. Paranormal teams have even claimed to record unexplained voices.

3. La Loba de Madrid (The She-Wolf)

“La loba” was slang for a certain kind of woman — alluring, dangerous, often outside society’s norms. One legend tells of a woman who roamed the hills near Madrid, guiding lost travelers to safety. Another paints her as a shapeshifter who wandered the outskirts at night, collecting bones.

Prostitute, protector, predator — take your pick. Either way, Madrid’s she-wolf still prowls through local folklore.

4. The Nude Maja and Goya’s Secret Muse

Francisco de Goya’s La Maja Desnuda (The Nude Maja) caused quite the stir in the late 18th century. The reclining woman, completely unclothed, was bold enough to warrant a private viewing — and later, an order for a second version with clothes, just in case anyone fainted.

This one isn’t a ghost story, but it’s one of Madrid’s great artistic mysteries. Who was the model? Many suspect the Duchess of Alba, one of Goya’s rumored lovers. But no one knows for sure — and that uncertainty only deepens the allure behind her half-smile.

Madrid Ghost Tours

If you really want to uncover these stories, book Madrid private tours with a guide who knows the city’s darker side. Ask about the palace hauntings. Peer up at the seven chimneys. Linger a moment longer on the quiet steps of Linares.

Let the past walk beside you.

And if you listen closely, you just might hear someone — or something — whisper your name. –Mark San Juan

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Want a different kind of mystery? Follow Dan Brown’s Origin trail through Spain.