This is exactly what you have to do to lose half a stone in just two weeks - and you don't need Mounjaro or Ozempic! Top Harley Street nutritionist KIM PEARSON reveals the simple way to get your body in shape fast
We've all come back from an over-indulgent trip abroad with a tighter waistband, feeling sluggish and bloated. It can be hard to avoid excess baggage after two weeks of French frites, Roman pizza and sugar-dusted piles of Spanish churros, after all.
But what if I told you the 'holiday half stone' is not an inevitable consequence of eating well abroad? That you can sample the tastiest foreign dishes and still fit into your shorts once you get home.
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The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
Discovering Spain's Sierra de la Demanda: the land that social media forgot
As with paint colours or lipstick shades, naming a mountain range requires serious consideration. It should suggest character, create intrigue, and kindle desire. Who doesn't want to explore the Crazy Mountains of Montana, or make a fiery pact with California's Diablo Range? While studying a map of Spain, my interest was piqued by a patch of grey and green emptiness bearing the enticing words: Sierra de la Demanda. I've travelled all over Spain for work and play in the last two decades, but somehow these 'demanding' mountains had eluded me. Located in the remote northern interior, halfway between Madrid and Santander, their isolation (and a dearth of English-language Google results) only added to the mystique. The Sierra de la Demanda covers a vast area across Spain's least populated regions of Burgos, Soria and La Rioja. An investigation of more detailed maps revealed an almost roadless expanse of limestone peaks, valleys, ravines, rivers, gorges and glacial lakes, with the highest peak, San Lorenzo, towering at 2,271 metres (7,451ft). The calling was real. This is not the Spain of white villages and dusty olive groves. On the Demanda's north face, where the climate is wetter and cooler, the improvised allotments, stone ruins and makeshift shacks are reminiscent of the forgotten corners of eastern Europe. Climbing higher, above the treeline, the terrain becomes harsh and rocky with sweeping views across plunging, pine-covered valleys. But unlike the dramatic outline of Spain's more famous mountain ranges, the Demanda appear gradually, almost secretly, their true splendour only emerging once you're deep in their midst. Every season brings its own charms. Winter is a snowy picture postcard, but in spring the meltwater sends waterfalls thundering down the mountainsides among wildflower meadows. Summer is hot and arid, but by autumn the temperatures hover in the mid-20Cs with (mostly) solid blue skies, and the ground is swathed in pink heather and alpine flowers. The town of Ezcaray, on the north side, is the closest thing to a tourist hub – a scenic former textile centre on the River Oja that operates as a base for the small ski resort of Valdezcaray, built in the 1970s (the Palacio Azcárate has doubles from €90, B&B). The sealed road ends abruptly after the ski centre, becoming a rocky trail that makes for a nail-biting drive (especially in a hire car) along a ridge that's at more than 1,800 metres (6,000ft), before looping back to Ezcaray in a dizzying descent of hairpin bends. The views are stupendous in every direction – fold upon fold of untouched mountain wilderness and, apart from the occasional hiking trail signpost, nothing human-made in sight. Halfway around the loop road, if you're craving more back-country adventure, a dirt track, appearing as an almost imperceptible black line on the Michelin map and marked with a rusty, hand-painted sign, takes you down into the southern foothills via the Lagunas de Neila, a cluster of glacial lakes, surrounded by cliffs and pine forests. The lakes can only be reached on foot, and at an altitude of 6,000ft make for an invigorating dip. The Laguna Negra is named after its dark waters, but in the late afternoon sun it appears a deep, shimmering blue. The water is, as you would expect, bracing, but it's the sheer scale of the surroundings, and the solitude, that will take your breath away. The only sound accompanying my swim was a chorus of surprisingly loud frogs, ribbeting from the reeds. On their south side, heading downhill from the lagunas, the Demanda feel different. The climate turns drier and warmer, and Spain becomes familiar again, with its oak forests, medieval ermitas (chapels) and sleepy villages where old men wave from their chairs outside the taverna. Although there are plenty of well-marked hiking and mountain bike trails here, this is still 'España vacía' – empty Spain – and human activity remains a rare sight outside the towns. This phenomenon of the interior's depopulation is much discussed by Spanish politicians and citizens, and the low density is tangible here – traffic is light and most of the activity is among the animal kingdom. Deer leap through the trees, boar amble across the road, and as the forests give way to open rocky landscapes, griffon vultures perch in their hundreds along the high cliffs before swooping and circling in the late afternoon thermals. The village of Quintanar de la Sierra, in the southern foothills, makes a good base to explore the Demanda, and the Hostal Domingo offers affordable rooms (doubles from €55, room-only). Like all the villages in the area, life moves slowly and peacefully. Locals get around on horses and in beat-up 4x4s, the shops shut all afternoon, nobody speaks English, and everyone, young and old, socialises in the town plaza where a café con leche will set you back €1.50. Like the ski centre, the hotels and bars are a non-ironic throwback to the 1970s, their only concession to the 21st century being charmingly rudimentary websites and an email address. This is the land that social media forgot, and is better off for it. Although it may appear on the surface that there's not much in the way of tourist attractions, as you delve deeper into its hidden corners, an intriguing and eclectic landscape of history and culture reveals itself. Dinosaurs roamed this part of Spain, and hundreds of their footprints are visible near the town of Salas de los Infantes, which also boasts a dinosaur museum. Moving on a few miles, and a few million years, is the eerie Necrópolis de Cuyacabras, dating from the ninth to 11th centuries, where dozens of adult- and child-size tombs are carved from a slab of rock in the depth of a pine forest. Meandering through the villages, Roman bridges, abandoned monasteries and ruins of all eras – from medieval to mid-century – appear at every turn. For lovers of industrial archaeology (AKA clambering around abandoned buildings), an enticing disused railway runs through Salas, its crumbling stations and rusty tracks half hidden beneath tangles of vegetation. Sign up to The Traveller Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays after newsletter promotion One town where the monastery remains in immaculate order is Santo Domingo de Silos (stay in the Hotel Tres Coronas de Silos, an 18th-century palace nearby; doubles from €95, room only). Its abbey, dating back to at least the 10th century, became world famous in 1994 when its monks scored a chart-topping album of Gregorian chants, and visitors can listen to the vespers being sung every evening. Three miles over the hill from Silos, you'll find yourself at an altogether different but equally revered site – Sad Hill cemetery, one of cinema's most well-known locations, where the closing scene of The Good, The Bad & The Ugly was filmed in 1966. Twenty miles west, venturing deeper into fantasy land, is the Territorio Artlanza, which claims to be the largest sculpture in the world. A magical, full-scale reproduction of a medieval Castilian village, created by Félix Yáñez, a local artist, from materials salvaged from rubbish dumps, it includes porticoed squares, a perfectly equipped school, a carpentry shop, bakery, forge, canteen, wine cellars, an alchemist's pharmacy and even a small chapel. Empty patches on maps that elicit few Google search results are rare in these hyperconnected, overshared times. There is a timelessness to the Sierra de la Demanda that feels like innocence, and while other parts of Spain struggle with the pressures of over-tourism, these mountains are a lungful of fresh air. The charms of the Demanda are simple and unshowy, and ironically, make few demands on the visitor – except to breathe deeply and tread lightly.
Daily Mail
5 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Issue raised by confused Gen Z hotel guest leaves thousands feeling older than ever: 'What on earth is THIS?'
A young traveller's innocent query about a strange wall socket in their French hotel suite has triggered a wave of nostalgic panic online - with thousands admitting they felt 'older than ever' after reading it. The British hotel guest posted a photo of a wall plate featuring a small rectangular opening marked with the word 'Legrand' - a well-known French manufacturer of electrical fittings - and asked: 'What is this thing?' Sharing the image with a Euro coin for scale, the confused traveller added on Reddit: 'It almost looks like the sort of thing that you slide a security chain into - but it's nowhere near the door or windows. 'I'm British and travel fairly extensively, particularly on the continent, but I don't think I've ever seen one of these before.' To anyone born before the smartphone era, the answer was obvious: it's a landline telephone socket. The device was once a common fixture in nearly every home, hotel room and office around the world. But for younger generations, it's nothing short of a relic. 'Damn, that's hitting the getting old target really hard,' one user wrote. 'That's a phone socket for house phones. Not sure what the word is in English. Landline phone?' Another joked, 'I'm feeling older every day… That was the socket used to plug landline telephones. Welcome to the 20th century.' The socket in question is known in France as a 'prise en T' - a T-shaped telephone jack developed by the French postal and telecom service. Similar to the UK's BT-style plug or Australia's RJ11 ports, it was designed for analog landline phones before digital and mobile technology took over. Once a lifeline for everyday communication, landline phones have slowly fallen out of use over the past two decades, as mobile phones became more affordable and accessible. In Australia, the shift began in earnest in the mid-2000s. By 2010, mobile phones had already overtaken landlines as the primary form of communication. Today, fewer than half of Australian households maintain a fixed phone line - with most of those used by older residents or for emergency services. In 2022, data from the Australian Communications and Media Authority (ACMA) showed that just 34 per cent of households still had a home phone service connected - and many of those were bundled as part of internet plans rather than used regularly. One commenter summed up the mood best: 'It's wild to think that kids today won't even know what a dial tone sounds like. We used to trip over cords in the hallway, now you barely see a house phone anywhere.' While telephone sockets like the one in the French hotel room are still technically functional - and may even connect to a working line in some properties - their presence today is more often decorative or leftover from another era. As one Aussie wryly put it: 'It's official. We're old. The landline is now a museum piece.'
Daily Mail
7 hours ago
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE The homeless Ibiza workers forced to camp in shanty towns after being priced out by spiralling rents on party island… as tourists revel in luxury
An army of homeless Ibiza workers are being forced to sleep in makeshift camps after being priced out of their homes. Striking images show what looks like a shanty town with makeshift accommodation on a patch of scrubland dubbed Can Rova 2. In contrast, just a few miles away, tourists, including hundreds of thousands of Brits, party the night away and stay in luxurious villas and hotels. Residents blame overtourism for the crippling housing crisis that has gripped the party island. Famed for its vibrant nightlife, crystal-clear waters, sandy beaches and warm sunshine, Ibiza's allure comes at a cost. There simply is not enough housing to accommodate the millions of tourists who visit each year, leading to a surge in illegal holiday rentals. The situation has been made worse by the conversion of residential properties into short-term holiday lets, shrinking the supply of long-term rentals. Enrique Gómez Bastida, director of the department that combats illegal housing in Ibiza, said the rise of tourist villas and even extra rooms rented out in houses has stretched the island's resources to the limit. Soaring property prices have caused a housing crisis so severe that many municipal workers – including judges, police officers and medial workers – are now unable to afford to live there. Locals have been forced to move into shanty towns and even tents. However, it is not residents alone who have been impacted by the crisis but some tourists too. In some cases, holidaymakers arrive on the island to find they have been tricked into paying for non-existent flats or even phantom luxury villas, Gómez Bastida, a former lieutenant colonel in the Civil Guard, said. 'Housing access is a real and serious problem,' he told The i Paper. 'Increasing tourist accommodation poses a problem of overcrowding on the island and therefore, an imbalance in the tourist ecosystem.' The island's council has recently introduced a major new rule designed to combat overtourism. It is now limiting the number of tourist cars and caravans that can visit. In place from June 1, the rule is set to run until September 30 throughout peak season in Ibiza. During the four-month period, only 20,168 vehicles used by non-residents will be allowed on the island. Up to 16,000 of these can be rental cars while the other 4,108 will be for tourists who travel by ferry to the island with their own vehicle. Tourists who want to take their own car to Ibiza will need to obtain a permit at a cost of €1/84p per day. Caravan owners will need to provide evidence of a campsite booking and will not be allowed into Ibiza if they plan to wild camp at the side of the road. Although Ibiza has just 160,000 residents, it gets more than three million tourists per year. As the number of tourists has risen, more cars have hit the road, causing congestion across the island. Ibiza has recently seen protests against tourism with locals complaining that the industry has caused housing to become unaffordable. Last year, more than 1,000 protestors took to the streets in Ibiza to rage against mass tourism. And, earlier this month thousands of locals marched across Spanish Islands to tell Brits to 'go home' as part of widespread protests against so-called 'overtourism'. Holidaymakers were visibly stunned by the dramatic demonstrations in Palma de Mallorca and Ibiza on June 15. Around 1,000 protesters took part in the Ibiza march organised by major anti-tourism platform Canviem el Rumb, which has been carrying out demonstrations in the Spanish holiday hotspot over the last year. Security was stepped up to protect tourists from the demonstrators, who left Portal de Ses Taules in the town centre at around 6pm and ended at Plaza de sa Graduada, in front of the courts at 9pm.
