Flying Solo in the Philippines

There wasn't a single moment during our trip around the world when I wished I'd been travelling alone. The idea terrified me and yet it's that very feeling which enticed me to try. If there's one thing which travel has taught me, it's that life begins outside of your comfort zone and so rather than flying home with the girls, I waved them goodbye and prepared myself for a short solo stint in the Philippines. 

I have to admit, however, that my enthusiasm had wained from the point of booking this trip to the point of actually boarding the plane to Borocay. Having just spent the most amazing ten days with some of my best friends, I had to question the likelihood of this second phase living up to it.  

Energy levels dropped further after a close to twenty four hour journey and by the time I set foot onto the island, I was exhausted. There were dozens of potential people to meet at the hostel bar but I couldn't even contemplate making conversation. 

Escaping the backpacker madness I instead wandered down to the beach to watch the sunset. It was here everything changed. As the sky began to turn pink, I thought about my friend Hatti and quickly remembered two things. Firstly, I'm never truly alone and secondly, make the most of every moment. What would Hatti do if she were here on a paradise island in the Philippines with four full days ahead of her? I as good as heard her voice in my head as the sun disappeared behind the horizon: 'Suck it up Chiara, go and socialise.'

And from that moment on I was never alone. Admittedly I was surrounded by strangers at first but it's surprising how quickly they turn to acquaintances, and later to friends. Back at the room, a girl named Vicky had moved into the bed next to me and we soon found we had a lot in common; she's from Surrey, studied English Lit, loves to write and obviously loves to travel. There were at least four reasons right there why we should go and get dinner together. 

On our way down, we got talking to a group of Irish medics and they joined us too. Whilst Vicky and I had just arrived, the Irish clan had been there four nights already and so promised to take us to the best bars later on. I still wasn't feeling up for a massive night but nevertheless had a couple of rum and cokes out on the balcony with our now significantly larger group. I don't remember consciously making the decision to go to the beach but it turns out a couple is all it took (I later learnt the rum out here is 80%!) 

With the sand between our toes we danced for hours at various bars along the beach. When it started to monsoon, we took cover in a club and Grace and I somehow ended up in a VIP room at a table with a load of Malaysians. It was hardly the West End but it was pretty cool. Once the rum started to taste like sambuca, I took myself home. 

The intense heat and sunshine glaring into our dorm room burnt out any signs of a hangover. Vicky and I were both up and at the beach by eight o'clock, working up a tan. Given the time and the unreal scene in front of me, it would've been reasonable to assume that I was still dreaming. It was the first time I'd seen it in full daylight and I just couldn't believe how perfect it was. Through the shadows of the palms trees which line the coast, the shallow water glows fluorescent turquoise, blending to a royal blue as the seabed suddenly drops and the beach itself (aptly named White Beach) boasts the finest white sand I've seen outside of the Caribbean.

The pristine condition is quite remarkable considering the vast number of people who come here to enjoy them. Borocay is undeniably very touristy and plays far too well to Western culture. You can quite literally stare out into the horizon and feel fully immersed in a paradise island, but turn back around inland and find you're on the doorstep of a Starbucks. I was both shocked and disappointed come lunchtime when I struggled to find a single authentic Philippino dish on the menu of any restaurant in close vicinity to White Beach. 

Luckily, a few people had recommended Puka Shell Beach as being far quieter and more authentic. Therefore, in the afternoon I hopped on a trike (a glorified tuk tuk) to see it for myself. Vicky had booked a massage but I met the Irish clan there and we stayed until sunset, watching the sky transform this time from the comfort of the warm shallow waters. 

When I arrived back, we had another new addition; a girl called Sharon who's been living in Singapore and is soon to move to New Zealand - definitely my kind of girl. We instantly got on and she joined Vicky and I for dinner at a back street restaurant where I had my first proper taste of Philippino food. It's not a touch on Thai or Malaysian, but it was still delicious and half the price of the burgers and pizzas they're serving up at the beach. 

The Irish were on it again but the three of us, slightly older and less accustomed to drinking until we drop, called it a day. Not that we got much rest. The room was so hot and without the aid of air conditioning or 80% rum, it was impossible to sleep. I counted mosquitos for most of the night and was up and out again by sunrise. 

After another full day of sunning ourselves and sipping coconut water on Puka beach, we needed a change of scenery. We’d heard whispers at the hostel of a bar on the peninsular which is a great place to watch the sunset. 

Spider House lived up to the hype. Built on wooden stilts, this bar hovers above the water and gives the perfect view of the endless horizon. It was whilst we were on our third or fourth round of cocktails that we realised we were surrounded by familiar faces. Everyone at the bar was a fellow guest at our hostel and so we soon joined forces and spent the evening together, which culminated with a game of ‘How many Frendz kids can we fit on a trike?’ (Answer: Seven.)

Though I’d had the most amazing time at the hostel, I was yearning for a quiet night in a nice hotel before facing the long journey home. With the luxury of living on a non-backpacker budget, I waved goodbye to the girls and checked myself into a fancy place up on the hill. As my bag disappeared from my shoulders to a porter’s and I was welcomed in with a fresh drink and flower garland, I was rather pleased with my decision. The hardest choice I now had to make was between the big double bed in my air-con room, or the cushioned deckchairs by the beautiful infinity pool. Bliss. 

My final day disappeared with the sun but it did not slip away discreetly. From the poolside I watched in complete awe as the entire sky came alive, alight with oranges and pinks so fiercely bright that I can make no comparison. That image will stay with me forever. 

Not one to be outdone, I attempted an exit as spectacular as the sunset. Overnight my skin took on a fluorescent tone and when I woke I was quite literally glowing. Heat stroke struck me hard and back in the UK I added dengue fever to it too. It wasn’t the best of souvenirs to take away from my beloved Asia but I’m thankful to have a wealth of memories to add to it too. 

Travelling alone was certainly an experience and one which I'd comfortably repeat again if thrown into the situation. However, given the choice, I'd still prefer to holiday with my friends. Whilst I met some truly awesome people who I'd perhaps not have spent time with otherwise, they're now all back on different sides of the world out of reach to reminisce with. One of the best parts of travelling for me is reliving the memories afterwards but moments such as falling off the balcony and launching an island wide search party for Vicky's shoes were all 'had to be there' scenarios and nobody around me was. For this trip, I'll just have to laugh along to myself and accept the insane looks but for my next trip, I'm dragging Hana back along with me. 

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! 

Weihnachten in Berlin

Last year I spent most of December exploring tropical islands and living off Thai green curries which was wonderful, of course, but not exactly Christmassy. This year, therefore, I was determined to do Christmas 'properly' and where better to kick it all off than at the original German Christmas markets in Berlin?

The moment we stepped onto the plane, I felt the festive spirit take hold. There were Christmas tunes jingling away in my ears and a man rocking an all-in-one Santa suit sat in the aisle next to me. The blistering cold that met us on the other side was the final touch to the wintery weekend set-up.

Despite using the short flight to scrub up on my old German skills, I was thankful to find that most of the locals speak brilliant English. My limited conversation of ‘I’m twelve, live in Winkfield and own a guinea pig’ is neither helpful nor true these days, and certainly wouldn’t have got us to our hotel on the other side of town. Fortunately, the people of Berlin were incredibly friendly and guided us pretty much to the door. I made a mental note there and then to add ‘be kinder to tourists’ to my list of resolutions for 2015.

Anyway, after checking in at the Adina we headed straight to our first ‘Markt’ in Alexanderplatz. There appeared to be an infinite number of stalls displaying intricate Christmas decorations and beautiful gifts but the ones which really drew our attention were those selling food. The steam rising from the small wooden huts held the rich aroma of German sausages and spiced Gluwein. For our first taste of Berlin, we opted for a strange looking flat bread which neither of us caught the name of but it tasted great.

We’d have liked to have stopped for longer to let our food go down but the fear of freezing over forced us to move on quickly. It really was ‘sehr, sehr kalte’ and even beneath hundreds of thick layers, I could feel my insides literally shuddering. Rather tactfully, we spent most of our time browsing the stalls which had log fires burning but admitted defeat pretty quickly, heading back instead to the big old fireplace in our hotel reception.

Later that evening, we felt ready to brave the cold again and ventured out for dinner. In a residential part of town, we found a German tapas restaurant called Die Schule which was highly recommended on Trip Advisor and lived up to the hype! It was the perfect way to try all the various German dishes at once which was ideal considering we had just three short days to cram it all in. It also meant that I was able to try the infamous ‘Currywurst’ without committing to an entire plateful. Considering my complete phobia of ketchup, it went down pretty well but the thought of it still leaves me feeling a little nauseous even now. The other dishes, however, were all brilliant and I could have eaten a full sized portion of each of them (...in one go, yes.)

Back at the hotel, we checked out the spa and planned our next day’s activities from the comfort of the jacuzzi. Sunday began bright and early, on a historical walking tour of the city. The information booklet claimed the tour runs every day of the year, rain or shine, so we figured the arctic conditions wouldn’t deter them either. Sure enough, at 10 o’clock on the dot, a rotund young man with a painfully English accent appeared at the square and introduced himself as our guide.  

Over the course of four hours, Ralph took us to every corner of Berlin, explaining how it has come to be the city we see today. It’s by no means a beautiful place but it holds an incredible history and Ralph’s passion and intrigue for the German identity brought light even to the darkest of areas.  He explained how the gold plaques known as stumble stones, or ‘stolpersteine’ which we see on the pavement (or perhaps would not have seen, had they not been pointed out) mark the life of Jews who were prosecuted during the war. Whilst some hold the belief that their memories should remain in their place of death, i.e. in concentration camps outside of the city walls, others argue that they should live on where they once thrived; outside their homes or workplaces which are still very much a part of Berlin.  

One of the most interesting parts for me was what appeared at first glance, to be a mere car park. However, this historical spot marks Hitler’s bunker, the hiding place where he is thought to have spent his final few hours. Of course, we also passed the remnants of the Berlin wall and the mesmerising memorial of the murdered Jews which is thus named to not skirt around the fact that this was a brutal massacre, not a sacrifice as the word ‘holocaust’ would once have suggested. There’s much speculation over what the concrete blocks are supposed to signify but to Ralph, they are simply random because there’s no sense behind the events that occurred throughout that period.

Sadly, I have to admit that another highlight for me was in fact Starbucks; not because I’m incredibly uncultured but because I was just so bloody cold! Though thoroughly interested in everything Ralph had to say, I had to continually remind myself to keep on listening because my body had switched into auto-survival-mode, focusing every bit of energy on simply keeping warm. We were jogging between sites and performing jumping jacks whilst he spoke but I was still shivering like mad with blue lips, ringing ears and fingers frozen into a claw – a claw, which thankfully fit perfectly around a giant mug of hot chocolate during our midway break. At the end of the four hours I was truly pleased to have learnt so much but equally thankful not to have lost any limbs to frostbite. The jacuzzi was calling and it was time to head back.

On our last evening in the city, we visited the most popular Christmas Market at the beautiful Charlottenburg Schloss. The grand castle can be seen from miles beyond as brightly coloured spotlights are cast over its grounds whilst tiny fairy lights surround the area like fallen stars caught in the hedges. It was here that we finally got our hands on a traditional German sausage, followed by a traditional German waffle, followed by a traditional German crepe, followed by a traditional German gluwein. It suddenly dawned on us that we had very little time left and it seemed absolutely imperative to squeeze it all in at once.  

Aside from the intense cold, Berlin was both very cool and very cultured. Whilst I can't think of a better city to visit at Christmas, I'd love to return one day to see it in the sunshine and check out the infamous nightlife as the streets transform after hours. Until then though, Frohe Weihnachten Berlin and auf wiedersehen!

Short but Sweeeet Spanish Retreat

Better late than never, I finally arrived in Spain! Whilst my original flight would have taken me straight to Girona, my second booking was to Barcelona so I had to catch a bus, train and shuttle in order to end up in the right place. Having recently navigated myself around the world, I shouldn't have been too worried about a three hour journey through Spain but it was the first time I'd ever gone it alone. I was certainly glad to see my travel buds there waiting for me at the other end. 

And not just them, but the Sydney boys too who we last saw back in Fiji! It's been a whole six months since we were altogether last, but within six minutes it was as though we'd never left. With heaps to catch up on, there was a massive backlog of stories to tell and by the time we pulled up outside the villa, my cheeks already ached.

The villa was about forty minutes outside of Girona in a little town called Tamariu which consists of just a couple of shops and restaurants along the sea front. Fortunately, we had a car so we were able to venture elsewhere but in complete honesty, I could have locked myself in the villa for three days and still been content. It was absolutely beautiful; a three storey stone house complete with turrets, a rooftop terrace, a private pool and most importantly, amazing company.

Whilst the others had popped out to collect me, Kate and Erica had stayed behind to prepare dinner and so we came home to an incredible spread of lamb, aubergine, salad and potatoes laid out on the table outside. It was all very civilised but as the boys began to start serving drinks by the bowl, I had a sneaky suspicion it wouldn't stay that way for long. It's difficult to say how much we drank but it was enough so that by the end of the evening, we couldn't detect/didn't care that Will had accidentally added milk to our vodka punch. 

The next morning, I woke up early determined to make the most of my short few days. To get my bearings, I decided to go along with the boys who were popping into town to pick up 'dos baguettes' (insert Essex accent) fresh from the bakery for breakfast. For me, this holiday was far more about the people than the place and so I'd done very little research on the area. Besides, I'd been to Spain plenty of times in the past and had never been particularly blown away.

Imagine my surprise then when I caught my first glimpse of the gorgeous Costa Brava. The early morning sunshine cast a brilliant light over the golden sand which is tucked away in a small bay and surrounded by beautiful turquoise waters. It looked more like Croatia than anywhere else I've been to in Spain and quickly changed my attitude to wanting to explore the country further. Eager to spend more of our morning at this beautiful spot, we raced back to the villa to round up the others and returned soon after.

Sadly, however, we weren't the only ones. By the time we got back, the beach was overrun with people who presumably all held the same appreciation for this amazing place. It somewhat disturbed the peace of our pretty little bay but it was nevertheless a glorious view. Whilst we girls positioned ourselves horizontally on the sand, the boys disappeared off onto the rocks with their fishing rod and squirmy bait.

From our sunbathing set up, we could just about make out their silhouettes against the sun and assumed from the lack of triumphant waving that it wasn't going awfully well. After an hour or so Hana and I went to investigate with the intention, of course, of taking the piss. However, we must have been their lucky charms because as soon as we showed up they caught their first fish! Still, it was hardly enough to make a meal for seven so we walked back up to the villa to prepare a proper lunch.

Our food had barely gone down and we were already devising various pool games and plotting against one another to throw each other in (for future reference, sun tanning oil is by far the best defence.) A combination of the sunshine, water and being surrounded by friends transformed us all back into big kids.

In the evening we gave our resident chef a break and drove into Begur, a quaint little town with old stone buildings and a beautiful square. We ended up splitting into two groups for dinner; 'the fish eaters and non' as the first were keen to try out the area's traditional paella dish. However, judging by the state of them after their meal, you could reasonably assume we'd split into 'alcoholics and non.'

Amie, Erica and Kate were hilariously drunk and giggled the whole way home which inspired the rest of us to pour a couple too. Once back at the villa, the games soon commenced, our favourite being Mafia which involved a God, a police officer, a serial killer and some rather confused civilians. It all proved a little too complicated for Amie (understandably, after her third bottle of wine) and so we eventually switched to team charades which lasted until Hana's award winning Shrek impression put us all to shame. Knowing they could never top it, the fish eating alcoholics stripped off and jumped into the pool for a midnight swim.

In the meantime the rest of us got down to discussing our plans for the next year and working out when on earth we'd all be on the same side of the world again. So far our group holidays have been rather spontaneous and the conversations were swaying towards another spur of the moment splurge. Had we had access to the internet that evening, I've no doubt that we would have ended up with seven tickets to Thailand booked on Daddy Wise's card. I'm still undecided as to whether this was unfortunate or the opposite.

Thursday morning came around far too quickly and we were all gutted that it was our final day. Hana and I were keen to buy treats to take home so the boys drove us to the local shop which had an overwhelmingly large (and amazingly cheap!) chocolate selection. Between us, we cleared out the shelves and Stuart took whatever was left to conduct a treasure hunt back at the villa later that evening!

Rather than heading straight back, the four of us took a slight detour to Calella; another beautiful town just a little way down the road. It was way past cocktail o'clock by this point so we stopped off for a caipirinha and re-lived our Brazil days whilst reminiscing about Fiji. I genuinely could have stayed there all day but when Hana fell off her chair and attracted the attention of the entire bar, we decided it was probably time to leave. Making one final pitstop at the lighthouse on top of the hill, we finally drove back to join the others.

We found the girls exactly where we'd left them, though perhaps shifted ever so slightly to follow the last few rays of sunshine. The scene was one of peace and content but it was very short lived; the sugary cocktails had switched us into mischief mode and we made it our mission to get everyone in the pool just one last time. The boys proved the hardest to wrestle and so we settled for dressing up in their clothes and jumping in ourselves instead. Unfortunately they then adopted the same tactic and not only got our airport clothes soaking wet, but showed us up massively by working our outfits better than us. No boys should look that comfortable in a bra and leggings.

Our last evening consisted of a family outing to the nearby crazy golf course. Unsurprisingly, nobody had significantly up-skilled since Fiji though there were a couple of holes in ones on a few questionable courses. With a smug Stuart in tow (shock) we returned to the house for our final supper. It was our full intention to have an early night as we needed to be up at a ridiculous hour to head to the airport but we were far too distracted with the excitement of Mafia and running around the garden in the dark hunting for Milka.

By the time we actually climbed into bed, we set our alarms for just two hours later. As a result, the flight home was kind of a blur but I was pretty pleased because the goodbyes seemed far less real. I've no idea when we'll all be together again but I do know that it will be worth the wait and in the meantime, I can give my cheeks a well deserved rest.