Back to Bali, Canggu & Ubud

The journey back to the mainland was long and before we knew it, we just had two days left of our Indonesian holiday. 

Our arrival to Canggu was timed perfectly with the sunset so we swiftly ordered a cocktail and made our way down to the beach. The sand here is a lot more gritty than in Gili and the water is turned up by the 4ft waves crashing in. The sunset, on the other hand, lived up to its sister islands and was easily one of the best we've seen yet. 

Keen to make the most of every last second, we then jumped straight into a taxi to Jimboran Bay where we'd been told we'd find a seafood market. What we actually found more closely resembled an Asian Butlins! The beach was buried beneath endless rows of long tables which were filled with Asian tourists finishing up their tours with a last supper at one of the many restaurants lining the coast. Either it's changed significantly in the last few years or there had been a mistranslation somewhere along the way.

Nevertheless the food was okay and it was great to sit on the beach and soak up the atmosphere. There were more people on that strip alone than we'd seen on the whole of Gili T! In addition, there was entertainment in the form of Balinese dancers and an acoustic band who played their own rendition of Pretty Woman right beside our table. Kate then decided to add to the performances, vomming on the beach in front of hundreds of stunned tourists. She'd caught a bug on the boat back to Bali and we took this as a sign we should probably make our way back. 

Bartering hard for a taxi, we ended up with a driver who in fact wasn't a driver but worked in the Tourist Office and was happy to head that way. Only after setting off did he realise that 'that way' was Canggu and not Uluwatu but he took us nonetheless. It was close to an hour's journey and he chatted away to us the whole way home. He explained that his real name is 'Satu' but that there are hundreds of Satu's in Indonesia as it translates to the number 'Two' and all Balinese babies are named according to the number of siblings who've proceeded them. Therefore, most go by their second names but as his was impossible to pronounce he settled on 'Jim', short for Jimboran Bay - his place of work. That sat far better on our lips and we immediately came to like our Jim. So much so in fact, that we put in a special request for him to be our driver for our trip to Ubud the following day. 

We woke tired the next morning (to the extent that I mistook mosquito repellent for hairspray) but Jim arrived early and before we knew it we were setting off for Ubud whilst Jim put his best Tourist Office knowledge to practice. 

Along the way we passed through many small villages and Jim explained that each is famous for a different produce. Our first stop was at the embroidering factory where we learnt how the women weave without any sign of machinery. Secondly, we visited the silver factory and again saw how the wealth of jewellery is pieced together by the steadiest of hands. 

The third, the art studios were by far my favourite. The artists themselves were sat on the patio outside painting large canvases and using the palms of their hands as a palette. What really stood out was the fact that these picture perfect paintings were not copied from photographs. Each was created from either memory or imagination and thus could take up to three months to complete. 

Finally we stopped at the coffee plantation where a young Balinese boy showed us the process of transforming the coffee beans into powder. He also explained that the very special luwak coffee, traditional to the area, tastes so much better because it passes through the digestive system of the luwak. Essentially it comes from shit but tastes quite the opposite as the animals pick only the best beans to eat and the fermentation in the stomach helps to bring out the rich flavour. 

At the end of the tour we were offered tastings of every variation  they produce on the farm. We tried not only the luwak but ginger, vanilla, coconut and lemon coffee, as well as mangosteen, lemongrass and rosella tea. Each has different benefits to the health system and were all rather exotic in taste. 

By midday we'd still not arrived in Ubud and had a couple more stops yet to come. Next up was Mount Batur, an active volcano in the North East of Bali. Though it had clouded over (Jim told us it's always cloudy here) the view was still incredible and as we sat down to lunch on the terrace looking out over the summit, it gradually began to clear. With the backdrop of a blue sky, it was even more beautiful but we had to tear ourselves away or we'd never make it to Ubud! 

Our final stop was at the famous Tegalalang Rice Terrace which is widely acknowledged as the most picturesque of its kind in the whole of Asia. Tall palm trees surround the entrance to the endless steps which take you through the very centre of the rice fields, immersing you in a world of green.

 It was beautiful but it was time to move on. My memories of Ubud weren't the best as Hana and I had both been ill on my last visit (predominantly from our Mount Rinjani hangovers.) However, I did remember it being very pretty and the little yogi town certainly lived up to my expectations in that respect. Every fifth building is a temple of some sort, so casually placed that you could almost glaze over it. On closer inspection, they're simply stunning, filled with intricate carvings of their divine Gods. 

We wandered around the markets and the upmarket shops which play rather heavily on the Eat, Pray, Love scene. At the end of street we found the notorious Yoga Barn which is now one of the most popular retreats in the whole of Bali, made famous by the book and film. However, once we'd spotted a spider bigger than my face (no exaggeration) we left pretty swiftly feeling the least relaxed that we have on this entire trip. 

Animals continued to pose as a bit of a problem as on our return journey we met a whole hoard of monkeys. Whilst they're cute from afar, they're more menacing up close and they do get seriously close! One particularly large male made a grab for my Tim Tams in my bag, at which point I decided I don't like monkeys at all. 

If we'd begun the day tired, we ended completely exhausted. It had been wise, however, to keep busy on our last day because we had some rather emotional goodbyes impending. 

Kate now lives on the other side of the world and we have no idea when we'll see her next. In the ten days we'd spent together, we'd become so quickly used to having her back that I had to keep reminding myself that she wouldn't be returning with us to London. Which sucked. 

However, whilst it's undeniably sad we can at least take comfort in knowing that there's no distance too far, nor time too long to come between best friends. We'll just have to continue to meet in the middle and as the 'middle' happens to fall in the most beautiful and exotic Asian continent, you're unlikely to find me complaining for long. 

Gili T Round Two

I couldn't hide the smile from my face as we climbed off the boat and waded through the water to the shores of Gili T. Throughout our trip around the world, this tiny island was one of my favourite stops. It was where we'd first found paradise and fallen in love with the Asian way of life. 

A lot has changed in the eighteen months since I was here last. Firstly, I now have a job and so whereas previously we'd stayed in the cheapest huts we could find, we now upgraded ourselves significantly to a beautiful resort on the other side of the island. Though undeniably one of the most expensive around, it still cost us no more than we'd pay for a Travelodge back home.

But there were other changes too that I'd noticed on our way down. The island was far busier with twice the amount of tourists and triple the number of bars, cafes and hostels to accommodate them. And with construction work taking place in every corner, it showed no signs of slowing down.

That said, it remains an incredibly idyllic island. The crystal clear water fades into a colour so blue that it's almost green and the islanders keep their sand absolutely pristine. It makes the beaches of Bali seem average in comparison!

Also, as our resort was tucked away from the mayhem of the backpacker quarters, we were still able to appreciate the deserted beaches and the peace and quiet the whole island once enjoyed. That is, when we could tear ourselves away from the pool! 

Though tempting to spend the whole three days right there, I knew there were other hidden gems worth exploring. Therefore, early on our first morning we hired bikes and cycled the entirety of the island. It's so small that it took us little more than an hour, despite having to abandon the pedalling and push our bikes through the majority of the sand patches. In the intense heat it was rather hard work and so felt we more than deserved a cocktail over lunch.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, we crossed the small path from our pool to the private beach for sunset. Flocks of tourists joined us as it just so happens this is the optimum place for a sunset view but no crowd could distract me from the beauty of this spectacle. The cluster of hazy clouds which loomed above the peaks of Lombok's mountain range turned fuchsia as the sun illuminated them from below. Soon, the whole scene was pink with streaks of orange and purple hung like decorative steamers in the sky. It was insanely stunning and we stayed long after the glowing sun had disappeared, watching as the colours changed with every minute.

Once it all turned to black we got back on our bikes and cycled to Scallywags, arguably the most talked about restaurant on any of the three Gili's. I'd not been able to afford it during my last trip but was very much looking forward to making up for it this time around! We found a table out on the decking and checked out the fresh seafood sizzling on the barbecue. In the end I ordered traditional Indonesian Gado Gado which tasted similar to satay (which is always unreal!) 

A few cocktails down, we then went onto a bar which is now run by the German guys who Hana and I met last year. It's crazy to think how much we've done since then whilst they've stayed here to live out their lives on Gili T but I can't say I blame them. There are certainly worse places to call home! Anyway it was a little surreal but so nice to see them and though it wasn't particularly busy, the music was great so we stayed for a few. And then a few more. Getting back on our bicycles, I regretted agreeing to the 'local' vodka option.

Our final day on Gili T followed a similar pattern of pool, beach and great food. However, between sunset and our last supper we checked into the hotel spa for a Balinese massage. Stephanie was led off in one direction whilst Kate and I were shown to a shared room, complete with a rather romantic looking bath. It was clearly made out for couples but as our masseurs turned out to both be men, I was more than happy to have Kate beside me as back up. 

Once I'd relaxed, the fully body massage was heavenly. He covered everything from my toes to my temples, taking a full hour to work his way up. 

'Uh one question - did he massage your boobs?' 

Kate's voice snapped me out of my trance and we burst into a fit of giggles as I realised we were alone again. They're not kidding when they call it full body.  

Feeling totally zen and only a tiny bit violated, we then left to find Stephanie who was already back at the bar downing a Bintang. She'd had a considerably worse experience which consisted of her having to explain to the masseuse what a massage was which may have been successful had he spoken English or she, Balinese. As with all things in Asia, spa experiences are rather hit and miss and unfortunately for Stephanie hers had failed to fire a shot. 

Needing a treat to get over her treatment, we splashed out on dinner at the hotel which for me, consisted of chicken satay served on sizzling hot stones. Dreamy.

It was an emotional goodbye to the Gili's this time, knowing that I'm unlikely to return. Whilst the others waited for our boat back to the mainland I went for one last walk up and down the beach, taking in the last sights of this beautiful island and doing my best to commit them to memory. I may not ever find myself there again physically but I'll continue to return to it as my happy place.

Welcome to Uluwatu

Nothing says 'Welcome to Asia' like being dropped in the middle of nowhere with a 15kg backpack to navigate through sand, reefs and rock pools in pitch black darkness and 30*C heat. After forty minutes and countless falls, I was delighted to finally stumble upon Nyoman hostel but less so, to find it completely locked up. Despite booking months ago and re-confirming my late arrival to Bali the previous day, it seemed the owner had neither waited around to let me in, nor prepared me a room. 

Thankfully this was not my first time to Asia and so I knew what to expect in that I should expect absolutely nothing. As much as I adore this part of the world, there's simply no argument for it being anything short of useless in terms of organisation. Instead of despairing I drew in a deep breath of the Asian sea air and went in search of the closest hostel which might still be open. The Hostel Owner at Rocky's was incredibly kind and whilst he regretted to inform me there was no room at his inn, he promised to call around and see what he could do. 

In the meantime, I met some Kiwis on the terrace bar who invited me to join them for a bintang. Tanned, tattooed and with a vocabulary which stretched no further than 'chill' and 'relax', they were one acoustic guitar away from fitting the perfect wanker backpacker stereotype. On the other hand, one had just offered to give up his room for the night and sleep in a hammock so by the end of the conversation I wanted to both kiss him and whack him over the head with a flip flop. 

In the end I did neither as the Hostel Owner came bounding over with a beaming smile to announce that his Aunt had a spare room a little way up the hill. Along with the Hero Kiwi who'd scooped up my heavy backpack, I followed the Hero Hostel Owner and his flashlight up to my room. 

It was basic as hell but it had wifi which meant I could finally get in contact with the other girls who'd arrived the previous day. For my first night in Uluwatu I was staying alone because by the time I'd made up my mind to join them, their hotel was fully booked. Thankfully though it turned out to be no more than a hundred metres away so within minutes they were all four at my door and marching me even further back up the hill to their luxurious crib. Though rather late by this point, we still found time to catch up over cheese, red wine and Australian Tim Tams on the veranda. Of all the heroes who helped me that evening, my friends remained my favourite.

A little after midnight, I climbed into bed with the hope that the sounds of the crashing waves might soothe me to sleep. Perhaps they would have, were it not for the fact that they were also making me extremely thirsty. With only a drop of water left on my bedside I embarked on a 3am mission to find a single person still awake in the surrounding area. Of course I failed, but I did find an open fridge so left a 5,000 rupiah note and returned to my room with the satisfaction of knowing I'd survive until morning. 

Despite my rather sleepless night, I woke up in the best of moods. Daylight shone brightly through the window and a soft sea breeze seeped in through the cracks in my little shack. It felt good to be back. 

At 8 o'clock I met Stephanie for a morning yoga session at the Cashew Tree. We were joined by just three other yogis and a mutt called Mocha who'd truly mastered the downward dog. The sequence was simple compared to my classes back in London but focused far more on relaxing the mind which was wonderfully refreshing - this was a holiday after all. 

Following a quick cold shower, we met the other girls back at their hotel. In the daylight I could truly appreciate just how stunning this place is. Their bungalows overlooked a small infinity pool which in turn overlooked the wide open sea. The tide was so high that the rocks I'd been walking along late last night were lost beneath swirling waves. Everything was so blue at this point it was difficult to differentiate between the pool, the sea and the sky. 

Extremely content, we sunbathed until mid-afternoon and then jumped into a taxi which took us to a bar called Single Fin. It's a popular spot to watch the beautiful sunset and becomes lively later on in the evening but after a couple of cocktails and a delicious Indonesian dinner, we called it a day. The next morning we had to be up at 6am to head to Gili T which we all agreed, was worth saving ourselves for! 

A Long Weekend on Lake Como

It's never difficult to persuade me to book a holiday but this was truly record-breaking. Within minutes of receiving my dad's picture of our garden with the glittering lake in the background and the tagline 'it's twenty-three degrees outside', I'd checked the flight times from London to Milan and confirmed myself a seat. 

Less than two weeks later, I was sat at Fabio's in my favourite spot devouring a pizza twice the size of my head. Having not seen my dad or Stefy for two months, we had lots to catch up on which inevitably meant we had lots of wine to get through too. A combination of that, the singing crickets, and the lake air seeping in through the shutters all made for a peaceful night's sleep. 

On my first morning we attended a memorial service held a few villages down in Dongo, in the square which they caught Mussolini and consequently ended the Italian war seventy-five years ago. My grandad had been there on that day but is no longer with us so we went along in his memory. 

I'd anticipated it being a little morbid but I was quite wrong. The piazza was filled with Italians from all over the country, greeting one another like old friends. Dozens of small school children eagerly waved their national flags towards elderly ancestors who proudly wore their dusted off uniforms, complete with medals, badges and a feathered hat. 

Later that afternoon, we took our bikes out to explore the beautiful scenes along the lake front. It's been years since I've visited Italy in Spring and I'd forgotten just how wonderful a season it is. Bright pink azaleas decorate each garden and lilac wisteria hang from every terrace, like flowering grapevines faded in the sun. Both these plants only flower for a few days a year so I'm thankful to have timed my trip so perfectly. 

We intended to be out for just a couple of hours but distracted by the scenery and the occasional prosecco, we were gone for almost five. After pedalling along the flat, we decided to climb higher for an even better view out across the lake. Whilst my dad's a pro-cycler, I am definitely not and was exhausted by the time we reached the old convent at Peglio a few hundred metres up. However, I soon perked up as we set eyes upon the view below. I've never seen the fields so vibrantly green, as though glowing between the small settlements scattered across the mountain. It was quite something!

I was hoping for some time to recover but we soon had to race back to the house as we had dinner plans that evening with some friends of my dad. This couple now spend half their time in Cuba and the other half on the lake so needless to say, I was very intrigued to meet them. 

The restaurant, La P'Osteria, is thus called because this particular Osteria was once the town's local Post Office in Argegno. It's a quaint little place which successfully integrates a number of the original artefacts into a modern setting; menus are presented in envelopes, wine bottles fill old cubby holes and the authentic scales are used to decorate shelves above the tables. Shoreditch, eat your heart out. 

Unfortunately, however, they'd put a little less thought into the food. When dining out in Italy, there’s always the choice of Antipasti, Primi, Secondi and Dolci. I opted for an Antipasti and Primi which in theory should be the lightest but I ended up with a mountain of polenta followed by a rather tasteless plate of pasta and a sick feeling which altogether wasn’t really worth it. It’s rare to be disappointed by an Italian meal but this one really didn’t hit the mark. That said, the wine was absolutely divine so I overindulged in that instead and still had a great evening.

The following morning we woke relatively early to get a head start on the Greenway Walk along the lake. The route is approximately ten kilometres, starting in Colonno and ending in Cadenabbia but we took an additional detour to Isola Comacina too. 

This island is the only one on the whole of Lake Como and has an interesting history. Centuries ago it fell under siege and was supposedly cursed by the Bishop of Como who vowed that ‘The bells will not ring any more, no stone will be put upon stone, no one will ever host again someone on the island or he will die a violent death.’ Fortunately (or rather conveniently if you look at it from a cynical tourist perspective,) after the war ended and the island was given to the King of Belgium to once again inhabit, the islanders found a reverse for the curse in the form of a special coffee which they still brew there today and insist everyone who enters drinks (and of course buys) before leaving.  

The whole walk took us a lot longer than it perhaps should have, firstly because we kept stopping to speak to friends that we passed and secondly to take in the beautiful views. Though the day started off cloudy, the sun soon broke through and brightened up the entire greenway. We made it back just in time for dinner which was a well deserved carbicide pasta dish. 

My Monday morning should have been spent snuggled up in bed feeling smug but instead, I went to school! Call me crazy but when Stefy asked if I'd join her in class to help teach a Literature lesson, I couldn't say no. Her year group had just finished reading Twilight and as I'd written my dissertation on Vampire Literature (albeit many moons ago and more Bramstoker than Meyer) it seemed like fate.

In reality, the class were far more interested in my life back in England than my opinion on the Vampire as the 'literary other' and society's evolving attitudes towards them. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed it and it was a good insight into how my life could have been had I grown up in the small Italian province that has instead played the part of my secondary home. I left the classroom with an appreciation for my London life, a new dress as a gift from Stefy and a handful of Facebook requests from Italian teenagers - win. 

As a further reward, we headed to Franco's for a special homemade lunch. Though we were sat down in the bar, he'd laid the tables out like a fancy dining hall with an entire chicken and a gigantic heap of polenta as a centrepiece. Of course it was delicious but the realisation that this particular chicken had previously been one of our pets weirded me out ever so slightly and I once again stuck too hard to the wine.

To help soothe the guilt we later walked up to campo to see the remaining chickens, as well as the sheep, rabbits and over-excited cats who also dwell there. As we looked down over the beautiful lake, it suddenly occurred to me that I've never been to campo and looked up. What is even up there above our land?

Minutes later we were passing through the top gate and off on a hike through the mountain woodland. There's a vague pathway drawn out but it disappears in parts and the edges narrow so much that we were often one wrong foot away from tumbling straight back down to lake level. I can't deny I was a little nervous but the view when we reached our final destination was so epic, it was worth every heartstopping step. It amazes me that after all this time, I'm still coming across new places and incredible views which I've not yet set eyes upon. This one was particularly amazing and we stayed there for a while to gaze out through the mist, just about making out the ripples in the water below. 

On our way back, we stopped briefly at an old mine which had been hand-dug centuries ago but hardly used since. We've no idea what lies in its depths now and never found out as we were forced to turn around long before reaching the end due to water flooding in. I wasn't too disappointed to tell the truth - it was definitely cool but equally creepy.

As always, my last day came around far too quickly and I was sad to find myself packing up again. After dropping Stefy at school, Dad and I walked back along the lake from Menaggio to Acquaseria enjoying the beautiful scenery and scorching sun. With no hint of a breeze, the water was calm so we took the canoe out and rowed to the beach bar in the next village along. It was so soothing and peaceful that it was impossible to comprehend being back in the rat race of London the following day. I pushed it out of my mind and downed two glasses of prosecco. 

On our way to the airport, I was strangely quiet - sad to leave and mesmerised by the sunset which I rarely get to see in Italy due to the surrounding mountains. Towards Milan, it's more visible and absoslutely stunning. 

Goodbyes are never fun but I left this time knowing it would not be long before my return. Flying to Italy for the weekend is as simple as heading to most suburbs in England and with the luxury of a beautiful place to stay, I'd be mad not to make the most of it. 

The Dubai High Life

Time to destination: 6 minutes, and yet staring out of the window I could see nothing but desert; endless stretches of sand in every direction. It's not until we're seconds from landing that we appear to cross a line of civilisation and we're suddenly immersed in a city.  

It was 4am UK time when we landed in Dubai so despite being smacked in the face with thirty degree sunshine the moment we stepped off the plane, our first port of call was bed. Luckily our friend Jess picked us up from the airport and whisked us straight to her beautiful apartment in Business Bay where we slept for five hours and woke up feeling considerably more human.

However, even as we came around from our dreamy, delirious state, something about Dubai still didn’t feel quite real. The grass was too green, the streets too spotless, the cars too fast and the sky high buildings unnaturally tall. At eighteen floors up, we weren’t even averaging mid-level! I didn’t instantly fall in love with the place but I was certainly intrigued and very much looking forward to the next few days with the girls.

After catching a couple of hours of sunshine by the pool, we got ourselves ready and jumped in a taxi to Blue Marlin Beach Club. The club was so busy and the queue so big that we couldn’t even get close to the entrance in the car. As we climbed out and started walking, I was seriously doubting our chances of getting in at all but Jess promised us that it wouldn’t be a problem. True to her word, she marched past the crowds and we were ushered straight in. It turns out that being blonde, British and working in a popular nightclub makes you second only to the Sheikhs in Dubai. 

Jess and her entourage are treated like royalty wherever they go and we were more than happy to join them for the weekend.Our table at Blue Marlin was buried under ice buckets filled with all kinds of drinks and a gigantic 3L bottle of Belvedere which was so heavy, it could only be served by hoisting it over our waiter’s shoulder. It was complete madness, but the real madness was down below on the dancefloor so once we’d each had a few drinks, we ditched VIP and went and joined the masses. The club’s mostly outside so there’s a real summer vibe and we danced the hours away until our feet hurt too much to go on.

Our return taxi was an interesting one; it seemed our driver was struggling to find Dubai let alone our apartment, simply claiming ‘I’m not from around here’ (as if we were...) I found it a little baffling that a city which has successfully installed penguins into a desert climate and the world’s biggest structures into a 4,000 square kilometre space, has not yet installed satnavs into their taxis. Anyway, ater coming close to being abandoned on the freeway we eventually made it home.
The following morning, we woke up surprisingly chirpy and went straight to Eden Beach Club for brunch. It’s a beautiful setting and the sun was out in full force so when we weren’t lounging on the beds, picking at sushi or sipping on cocktails, we pretty much spent all day in the pool. Eden is owned by the same company as the club that Jess works at so once again we were served all day without spending a penny, something I found myself quickly getting used to.

That evening Jess and Susan had to work but let us tag along. Crystal is one of Dubai’s best nights on a Saturday and this was no exception. We had a table bang in the centre of the dancefloor with a perfect view of the DJ booth which just so happened to be occupied by Craig David! All jokes aside his set was awesome; old school RnB and Hip Hop with every song sparking a memory from our own school days and our first tastes of the clubbing scene. We left when the lights came on.

Our own lights, however, didn’t come back on for a very long time. It was 3pm before we left the house on Sunday and we completely missed our booking at Cove Beach but keen not to waste the day entirely, we headed to the Madinat Souks to wander around the market. It was probably the closest we came to culture all weekend but even so, it still didn’t feel particularly genuine. Though the shops sell traditional Arabic lamps and trinkets, it’s all very geared towards tourism and the super-air conditioned mall sucks out any air of authenticity.

Realising we’d not eaten for 24 hours, we grabbed a late lunch by the man-made canal overlooking the iconic Burj Al Arab. On our way home, we insisted we stop at the mall to see the legendary fountains dancing on the hour. I’d been told about them beforehand but nevertheless, I was taken aback by how awesome they were. The first performance was to an Arabic tune which was completely mesmerising and the second, Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Each was initiated with hundreds of tiny lights twinkling beneath the surface of the water and minutes later the jets were set off, each one a dancer in its own right demanding the attention of the surrounding crowds. The standard of the choreography was quite astounding and I wished we could’ve stayed to see more.
Tearing ourselves away, we raced home to get ready for dinner; a thirty course meal at Em Sheriff, once again completely free of charge. I genuinely thought there must have been a mistranslation but the food just did not stop. As well as a whole lot of wine, we were served tasters, cold appetisers, hot appetisers, starters, grills, mains, meats, desserts – in total, thirty dishes! 

Perhaps most people select just a handful of dishes and leave the rest but they all looked so exotic and interesting that we had to try at least a mouthful of each. We had everything from pepper and pomegranate hummus, to spicy chicken liver, to shoelace pastry filled with syrup, nuts and cheese. I wish I had a copy of the menu, though I doubt my chances at recreating any of it. 

Three hours later and two party members down, we rolled out the restaurant and headed to a club. However, we were still so full when we arrived that we found it virtually impossible to dance. Fortunately, The Act is famous for its on-stage performances so I could just sit and sip (very slowly) on drinks, occasionally swaying in time to the music. A few hours later, I called it a day and waddled home. 

Our final day crept up on us and conscious that we still hadn’t made it to Cove Beach, we did our best to ignore our hangovers and food comas and woke up early. For the first time in four days, I had to get my purse out as this beach club is brand new and hasn’t yet established relationships with Jess’s company. One glance at the price lists and I suddenly realised why everyone thinks Dubai is so expensive – when it’s not free, it’s extortionate! Nevertheless, we were more than happy to fork out this once and wanted to treat Jess as a thank you for sorting us out all weekend.

Another first was finding something truly authentic – the sea! Admittedly it was so perfectly clear that it seemed too good to be true but this sparkling water couldn’t possibly be man-made. It was untouched and exceptionally beautiful.

When we’d had enough sun, we called the group we’d been out with the previous night and met them at the harbour for an afternoon yacht party. Sprawled out on the deck, we sailed through the Persian Gulf, docking an hour or so later in a nearby bay. We’d barely poured our first round of drinks when a guy appeared on a jetski and offered everyone a free ride. I never worked out whether anyone actually knew him but he later abandoned his jetski, initiated a dance-off and proposed to half the girls on board.

Watching the sunset from the boat was pretty epic and even in our vodka-induced state, I could still appreciate the wonder of our setting. The sky high giants which lined the coast glittered in the darkness casting light onto the rippling water. Nobody wanted to leave but a complementary dinner at Cavalli was calling and we had to head back.

The combination of delicious steak, red wine and pink-lit chandeliers did well to distract us from the sadness of this being our last supper. I’d been determined not to over-eat this time but the food was so great that I was soon regretting my body-con dress choice. 

We did, however, all make it to the club this time which was conveniently right next door to Cavalli. Cirque le Soir is very similar to its sister club in London and equally as eccentric. Candyfloss and popcorn were a necessity upon entry and our table backed onto a small stage which was occupied by all sorts of fire-eaters, contortionists and midgets throughout the evening. As we continued to drink, it only got weirder and my last memory is of Yas drawing out a hopscotch through the dancefloor.

I absolutely loved every minute in Dubai but the more time I spent there, the more I realised I needed to get out. It would be all too easy to be drawn in by the lavish lifestyle but after four days of worrying of nothing but which Instagram filter to use, I started to yearn for more of a purpose.

The city is fabulous but it has no history, no story and no real identity. To me, it feels as though a spoilt child has travelled the world, plucked their favourite parts from each country and slung them into one place to create Dubai; white sand from the Caribbean, ski slopes from Switzerland, skyscrapers from New York, hotels from Vegas, nightclubs from Ibiza, and the list goes on. Whilst in some ways this makes it the best place on earth, the lack of synergy or sense of belonging leaves for me, in the long-term, a little to be desired.