Budapest Spas & Bars

Landing in Budapest, we quite quickly realised we knew nothing about the city. One of our party (though she'll remain unnamed) thought it was a country, I'd thought the currency was Euros and none of us had any idea how to go about even saying 'hello'. We'd booked the trip a while back but life seems to have run away with us as a little lately and we'd found virtually no time to do any research. Well, this should be fun. 

Our first pleasant surprise was that the exchange rate coupled with the low cost of living made us really rather well off. The taxi from the airport cost the equivalent of just a couple of pounds each and within less than an hour of landing we were outside our Airbnb in the city.

Two Hungarian guys were there to meet us and showed us up to the room via a rickety lift that looked as though it belonged in the 1920's. Fortunately, the apartment itself was considerably more modern with two double bedrooms and a spacious living area which was more than sufficient for the five of us for the weekend ahead. 

We wasted no time in changing out of our plane clothes and pouring our outrageously cheap vodka concoctions. Despite finishing the entire bottle, we thought we were relatively sober until we couldn't work out how to get out of the building. Looking back on it, we were also blaring out Justin Bieber and playing sardines in a cupboard so it really should have been more obvious. 

Having eventually cracked the Fort Knox code (i.e. pressing the exit button...) we were finally free and jumped into a taxi to Szimpla, one of Budapest's most famous Ruin Bars. 

Embedded within what remains of Budapest's original flats and factories, the Ruin Bars are the epitome of understated cool. Whilst they should have long been condemned to destruction, the buildings were instead filled with rejected furniture from the depths of the city bringing a retro feel to the place and soon after an unstoppable wave of young people to enjoy them.  

Lost amongst the neon lights and crowds of unfathomable accents, it was difficult to believe that we'd been sat at our desks that very morning. That same thought also brought on a sudden tiredness and despite our best intentions, by 3am we were shattered and called it a night. 

Consequently, we were up at a fairly reasonable hour the following day and headed out straight away to make the most of our short weekend in the city. Our apartment was conveniently situated right next to the Central Food Market so we wandered over there for what was supposed to be a light breakfast. What it turned into, however, was langos; a gigantic deep fried flat bread topped with virtually anything you ask for from, vegetables, to Nutella! We could easily have shared one between the the five of us but somehow smashed through one each (plus an obligatory strudel...)

Recognising the need to to work off the 9,000 calories just consumed, we dodged the Metro and instead walked all the way into the centre of town. It was a relatively long distance but the journey took far longer than it should have, had we not been continually distracted by sights along the way. The first was the Chain Bridge which we did not need to cross but very much wanted to. The view from either side was incredible with pastel coloured buildings lining one side of the river and tall green hills with the remains of castles peering out from within the cliff face of the other. It was exactly how I'd imagined it to be but better, and made better still for the fact that we had a bright blue sky to frame it all in. 

After an hour or so we reached our destination; the Széchenyi Thermal spa. It felt bizarre to be stripping down into our bikinis in single figure temperatures but the steam arising from the baths themselves promised warmth. We began inside where there were dozens of pools in a long line, allowing us to hop from one to the next, dipping our toes in those that were only lukewarm and fully plunging into those that were dreamily hot. Some were bubbling, others still and each contained a variety of minerals which are meant to perform miracles on your skin. 

I was hoping to emerge from the waters feeling an entirely new woman and perhaps I would have if I hadn't been entirely numbed from head to toe; cold is the only thing I felt as we sprinted from the indoor halls to the large outdoor pool in time to catch the last glimpse of sunset. 

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the sky turned a deep mauve and the pool's lights glowed like stars from beneath the surface. With such beautiful surroundings, it was difficult to muster the motivation (let alone the courage) to ever leave the pool again. 

Once we finally made it back to the flat, however, we had a cheeky power nap followed by an extensive MI5 operation to carry out, as we thought our apartment was being broken into (which it wasn't), so we were somewhat delayed for dinner. 

Without any real reasoning, we'd just assumed that Hungary would follow the same routines as the likes of Italy and Spain when it comes to eating late but it soon transpired that they do not. Our dreams of the cheapest Michelin Star meal ever eaten were soon shattered when we struggled to find a single restaurant still open close to midnight. My mind was already starting to wander back to the 4am Pad Thai we'd had the night before but fortunately we stumbled across one nice looking establishment still willing to welcome us in just before I was forced to find out how terrible drunk food tastes sober. 

This place was an absolute find and for less than a tenner, we had starters, elaborate mains and a lot of wine before moving swiftly onto Instant where we'd heard promises of a great night.

As soon as we arrived it was immediately obvious why people rave so highly about this particular ruin bar. The rooms appear infinite and lead off in every direction, with each one slightly darker and considerably stranger than the one before. To give you an idea; the entrance has flying bunny rabbits stapled to the ceiling and a glittering pig disco ball, and that's only the beginning. 

The people we encountered inside were no less strange but it was amusing for the most part. My favourite by far was one particularly high guy who's opening line to every girl who had the pleasure of his forthcomings was 'Can I have your drink?' Not usually how it works but I rate his efforts... 

The beauty of such a big place is that there's a whole range of music but nevertheless, we struggled to find much that resembled hip hop. Luckily, just as Instant was starting to die down, we caught wind of an RnB club down the road and decided to swing by on our way home. It was a little like a smaller, grimier Oceana but it still kept us amused for a further two hours until we'd heard virtually every Pitbull song we could stomach. 

After just a few hours sleep, we were up and out again, this time returning to the Christmas markets that we'd passed the previous day for a better look around. The plan was to pick up some gifts to take home but the strong scent of mulled wine proved rather distracting and we soon found ourselves huddled in a log cabin sipping steaming drinks and gobbling down traditional Hungarian food. We ended up with quite a mixture of sorts but thankfully all avoided the rooster testicles; I'm all for trying local delicacies but I was still feeling pretty fragile from the night before and that did not sound appetising. What did sound appetising, on the other hand, was the chocolate and cheese strudels on our way out – a delectable combo and the perfect way to end our weekend in Budapest!

A Trip to Eataly

The moment I passed my probation at my new workplace, I stepped straight out of the office and onto a plane. Having not been allowed to take holiday for my first three months, I couldn't want to break the cabin fever and travel again. I also couldn't wait for a rest so it seemed sensible to make my first stop Lake Como, which conveniently happens to be both my dad's home and the most relaxing place on Earth. 

That is, when you're not setting an alarm for 4am to go mushroom picking. 

This ever-so-unrelaxing activity wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my first day of holiday but having recently developed an intrigue in the Italian side of my family's fascination with mushrooms, I appreciated the invite to tagalong. 

For the twenty-five years which preceded this curiosity, I'd pretty much just written them off as insane and as we clambered up the steep mountain terrain, fighting through the brambles in complete darkness, I was quite sure I'd been right all along. Surely I'll never find any if I can't see? Or even worse, I'll pick one that's poisonous! 

When I did, however, find my first porcini it was nothing short of momentous. Never have I ever experienced such parental pride from my dad; my university graduation, multiple championship wins, even my very entry into this world, all of which he was there to witness, felt overwhelmingly insignificant in comparison. The enormity of the mushroom just about matched the size of the smile on his face and my own sense of achievement as I ripped it from the ground and held it up to the sky. 

I was one hundred percent hooked and my enthusiasm only grew in the hours that followed (and we were there for hours.) I suddenly felt like the mad one for not jumping on this craze years ago. Who wouldn't enjoy this? It's essentially a treasure hunt for adults and a lot of fun!

Only once we found our baskets, backpacks and every available body part overflowing with mushrooms did we finally call it a day. Back at the house, Dad and Stefy got straight to work cleaning and slicing our winnings whilst, I on the other hand, went straight back to bed. Hours later, my rumbling stomach woke me and the strong fumes of the drying fungi filled my nostrils. Tip-toeing over and around the dozens of racks which now filled every corner of the house, I went to find my dad, Stefy and their friend Claudio who was staying with us for a few days. 

The four of us decided to toast our success at Cantina Follie, a beautiful wine bar in Tremezzo which specialises in cheese and meat boards. I devoured far too much before realising that this was only the aperitivo and we still had pizza on the menu for later in Santa Maria. Having been to Italy more times than I can count, you'd think I'd have learnt by now but perhaps it's a subconscious decision not to. Contented in my food coma, I retired to bed relatively early that evening, soothed by the sound of the waves lapping outside my window. Bliss. 

A far less welcoming sound woke me the next morning; the cat, scratching persistently on my bedroom door. She wanted to be let out and despite virtually every window in the house being open, insisted she leave in a more dignified manner suited to the absolute princess that she is. It was 5am and as far as I was concerned, we were no longer friends. Unfortunately, the feeling wasn't mutual (or perhaps it was?) but either way, she came clambering back at 6am, this time clawing against another closed window to crawl back into bed with me. I was destined never to have a lie in. 

Wide awake, I suggested a long walk through the mountains to fill our now rather extended morning. It was a cloudy start to the day though, so rather than climbing too high we instead meandered through the hamlets above our own village, covering a long distance but ascending slowly. 

Despite the lack of sleep, I felt entirely relaxed. There's something about this place which is almost enchanting in the way it draws you into its slow pace of life and makes you appreciate the moment for what it is. There are few occasions in life that I can vividly remember being able to simply stop and breathe but the majority all seem to be here. 

By the time we reached San Martino, the skies had cleared and we were awarded our view after all. We enjoyed a late lunch and a well-deserved carafe of red wine before making our way back down. As it was Claudio's last night with us, there was no question of where we'd be taking him; Fabio's, of course. Without so much as glancing at the menu I ordered a melanzane pizza and left the drinks  order to my dad (which is always a safe bet.) 

We drank enough at the restaurant to know that we'd be continuing back home and the four of us (plus the cat) stayed up way into the early hours putting the world to right over whiskey and Nutella. We spoke of love and war and everything in-between, and when we'd exhausted conversation, we sung of it instead. Claudio, a psychiatrist by day but musician by night, whipped out his guitar and treated us to an entire set of Italian classics before taking requests. I was pleased to be able to then singalong in my mother tongue. 

For my final full day, we'd booked tickets to the World Expo which is held in a different city every four years and focuses on a current affair. This year, it was held in Milan and the theme was food! Absolute win. 

Considering I fly to Milan so regularly, I've spent very little time in the city so we made the most of the trip and travelled in early to explore. The metro took us to the main square which is home to the grand cathedral. It looked stunning with the backdrop of the bright blue sky and kept our attention for quite some time before moving on into the heart of the capital. 

Surrounded by Milan locals, I suddenly felt incredibly under-dressed. Every street is a catwalk runway with perfectly styled mannequins poised in the front row. The shop windows scream expensive but the in the classiest of whispers behind the marble stone frames. 

I could easily have stood for hours in the midst of Milan simple people watching, but it was time to head to the expo. The first room we entered introduced the concept of food from around the world; where it comes from, how it's processed and what's produced in each region. There was a strong focus on World Hunger and the fact that there's sufficient food to feed the entire population if only it were distributed more evenly. We now produce 17% more food per person than we did 30 years ago and yet close to 1 billion go to bed hungry every night. 

With that in mind, what followed felt a tad oxymoronic. The rest of the park was filled with exhibitions from every country in the world from America, to Burma, to Iran and Papa New Guinea. Each nation had been allocated a plot of land to represent their cuisine however they pleased and the results were quite astounding. The UK had chosen to focus on their production of honey and constructed a giant beehive from honeycomb laced fairy lights. In Malaysia we found an interactive rainforest, in China an impressive fountain display, in Brazil an assault course, and in the USA a grand entrance of glittering stars and lights. Of course Italy had the largest space of all to play with and had a mini village called 'Eataly' filled with all the best restaurants and an epic Nutella bar. 

With so much on offer, we were cautious not to commit to any one cuisine so picked up little bits from as many countries as we could. It was all divine and whilst it was served with a twinge of guilt on the side, all profits were at least donated to charity to help fight World Hunger. 

As always, it was a fantastic trip and I was very sad to leave.  For me, I suppose Italy is a break without the hectic planning of a real holiday and a home without the responsibilities of real life; for me, it's perfect. 

A Weekend in Geneva

I'd just about had enough time to unpack and re-pack (and fight off dengue fever) and I was back on a plane again – this time to Geneva!

We were met at the airport by my Auntie Liz who whisked me, my mum and my best friend Hana back to her beautiful home situated in a rural area just over the French border. The house is instantly impressive both in terms of size and setting but the interior is even better; I felt as though we'd arrived onto the set of an Ideal Home Magazine shoot!

In fact, I was so distracted by the modern feature walls and striking artwork which decorate the space so beautifully that I almost didn't notice the view beyond. Sliding open the glass doors, Liz led us out to a glistening swimming pool overlooking the snowy Alps. Even in the fading sunlight, we could just about make out the peak of the Mont Blanc. I was quite sure this was going to be an awesome few days.

The evening ran away with us as we caught up over wine and nibbles and before we knew it, it was time for bed. The following morning, we woke late and had a leisurely breakfast by the poolside whilst making a plan for the day. Midway through, we were joined by a welcome surprise - my cousin, Sian! 

Sian lives and works in Africa and my travels are yet to take me to that part of the world so we're rarely in the same continent, let alone country. I felt very lucky to have her with us for the weekend and having listened to her incredible tales of Chad and Sierra Leone, I don't imagine it will be long until I do spend some time that way.

Though we could easily have spent the whole day by the pool, we were keen to make the most of our short few days so got ourselves sorted and headed out to Annecy. My Aunt told me that I'd been before as a child but my memory was hazy and I certainly didn't remember it being quite so stunning. The lake is almost impossibly blue with fountains  at the centre which cast rainbows in the ripples.

All five of us wanted a closer look so we hired a pedalo and made our way into the midst of it all. The youngsters pedalled whilst our mums took pics (not a fair deal) with all of us pointing at the marvels passed along the way. In particular, I loved the turreted castles high up on the hills which struck me as quintessentially French and really rather beautiful.

The Frenchniess continued into the afternoon as we settled on a Creperie for lunch, indulging in a mixture of savoury and sweet, from entree through to dessert; at least some of us had earned it after our work-out on the lake! Soon after we headed back, fighting the temptation to enter every Swiss chocolate shop in our passing and instead settling for pink champagne on the terrace at home. 

Over dinner the bubbles continued, unveiling more and more hilarious family stories. My favourites, however, were those from before my time when my mum and Liz toured the States together and got up to all kinds of mischief. It reminded me a lot of mine and Hana's own tales except that ours are arguably a lot more tame!

On our final morning, Liz took us along to a typical French market which we fell in love with instantly. Wandering between the stalls, we soon found that our sense of smell was far more reliable than our GCSE French skills in leading us to the best vendors handing out small portions of cheese, fruit and freshly baked bread. Unsurprisingly, the tasters did the trick and we found ourselves leaving with an armful of baguettes amongst macaroons and all sorts else.

This all made for an epic lunch spread back home and there was a genuine concern that if we stayed still for too long afterwards we'd fall into a food coma and miss the flight home. Instead we swiftly (but sadly!) packed our bags and headed out to Geneva for one final stop in town before the airport called. 

It was a whirlwind of a visit but so worth it. There's nothing better than escaping the city for a weekend and immersing yourself in the beautiful European countryside – with a flight time of little more than an hour, it really is at our fingertips!

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.