Lake Life: Lago di Como

It’s true that there really is no place like home and I'm fortunate enough to have two of them. Whilst I've lived most of my life on the outskirts of London, my dad was born and raised on the Lake Como and has now retired back to the village in which he grew up. When I say 'on the lake' I mean it literally. The family house is less than a few steps from the water's edge and each time I wake up to that beautiful view, I wonder how on earth I've resisted relocating myself. 

When I was younger we'd spend entire summers on the lake and so this place holds hundreds of happy memories for me. However it's only in more recent years that I've come to truly appreciate its beauty. Whilst as a child I’d judged the place purely based on its potential for activity, I now find that admiring the stunning scenery has become a full time activity in itself. 

It was late when we stepped off the train from Rome but even through the darkness I could sense we were home. The evening air was refreshingly cool and the scent of the lake was brought to me through the breeze. Breathing in deeply, I felt my chest slowly rise and a calming smile spread across my cheeks. Lago di Como; home. 

Whilst the rest of the world accelerates forwards, life on Lake Como maintains its slow pace. From the cracked paint of the terracotta houses, to the ice-cream flavours sold at the only gelateria in town; nothing here ever changes. It’s been a whole year since I visited last but I don’t expect any surprises. Fabio will still be conjuring his magic in the stone oven pizzeria; Franco will still be serving limoncellos at the bar. (It’s for this reason these establishments aren’t known as their real names. They’re not Creme Caramel or Zanzibar; they’re Fabio’s and Franco’s.)

Perhaps if things were different I wouldn’t feel so at home. Certainly, when I left London for a year I returned as an alien but I’m confident that with Lake Como, even after a decade I’d slot straight back in. There’s a real comfort in knowing there’s somewhere you’ll always belong. 

The next morning I couldn't wait to draw back the curtains and take my first look at the lake glistening in the sunshine. The mountains which surround it are just as beautiful, standing grandly like a fortress which protects the hamlets within. Though fearsome to some, they're familiar to me and I love to stare up at them, wondering all the time who may be gazing back. 

To my horror, it was raining! My dad had warned me that they'd had the worst summer on record but my mind had refused to make the connection between this place and rain. However, whether it was my persistent positive thinking or simply a stroke of luck, it had cleared by lunch time and the forecast had changed to show a warm few days ahead. Thank goodness; the whole world is a lot prettier with a little bit of sunshine. 

Making the most of the improvement in weather, we marched straight outside and walked up to Campo, my dad's small farm up in the mountain. Each year I visit, there seem to be new animals around and this time it was two tiny kittens which came bounding down the hillside like bunny rabbits as soon as they saw us at the gates. They're abnormally small but absolutely gorgeous and I immediately abandoned all ideas of helping my dad, to stop and play with my new friends for an hour. 

From high up on the hillside, the view from Campo is simply stunning. There's a house up there which is currently uninhabitable but is another item on the Pelizzari project list. One day when the road reaches our patch of land, I would love to open a B&B. In reality it will require a lot of hard work but at the moment I have the perfect vision; serving breakfast on the terrace overlooking the lake, with fresh fruit from the garden, eggs from the chickens and strong Italian coffee to start every day. 

Back down at lake level (and with my head out the clouds), we took the kayaks out for a spin. Unfortunately, I spun far more than I intended! Even when the lake is calm, it’s difficult to keep the boats straight and I found a special talent for turning around. Eventually, however, I seemed to grasp the hang of it and we paddled all the way into the next village. Though a bit of work out, it was still incredibly relaxing as we stopped regularly to admire the beautiful villas along the lake front.

That evening we realised that I’d been in Italy for five days and had not yet had a pizza; such shameful behaviour had to be fixed! Fortunately for us, the best pizza in the whole of Italy (all biases aside) can be found at the restaurant two minutes from our house.  This guy really is something else. The pizzas he serves are the largest I’ve ever seen and yet we still always come away wanting more. They’re so, so delicious and a fraction of the price of good pizza in London (if such a thing even really exists.)

One of the most wonderful things about Italy is that I can justify eating three massive meals a day, not only because the food is too good not to, but also because it can be easily counteracted with a beautiful walk, cycle, swim or row in the great outdoors! This week we chose to climb Mount Grona which is a relatively easy hike to the 1,736 metre peak.

Even from midway up, it offers breathtaking views out across the lake and the villages below. Through our binoculars, we could make out the road above our house and even see people (which we presumably know) sitting outside at the bar. Fortunately we took a few photographs at this level because by the time we reached the top we’d become completely engulfed within a cloud. Though we should have been able to see for miles around, we were faced with nothing but a wall of white. Nevertheless, we were pleased to have made it and cracked out the hip flask for a celebratory swig.

My first few days on Lake Como have been amazing and I’m so thankful to have another two weeks left to go. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ll have spent more than a few days here and I’m looking forward to settling properly into life on the lake. To make it even more exciting, some of the girls are flying out to join me and I can’t wait to share this loveliness with them!

When in Rome

With a name like Chiara Pelizzari it was almost embarassing to admit that I’d never been to Rome. Though my Dad is Italian and I’ve visited Italy more times than I can count, I’d not once made it as far as the country’s capital. It has always been something which I thought I should fix but it wasn’t until my year away, whilst we were learning the heritage behind all sorts of other places, that it suddenly became imperative to understand my own.

My flight arrived late in the evening so it was difficult to form an immediate first impression of Rome aside from my swanky hotel room that my Dad and his partner had booked. It was amazing but of course I was keen to see the real city as soon as possible so we woke up bright and early the following morning.

Wandering through the streets of Rome is like being in an enormous open air museum, as ancient ruins appear around every corner. Some are found deep within excavated crevices whilst others sit high up on the hills where more modern constructions have been built atop them. To give you an idea, we passed one block of red brick flats which use the old archways of a Roman amphitheatre as their basement garages! It’s incredible the way that architects have incorporated these ruins into the modern day city, maintaining the connection between today’s locals and their ancestral roots.

The other aspect of Rome which instantaneously hit me was the sheer number of churches throughout the town. There are of course the famous few but in fact, there seems to be one on every single street! I find it completely baffling how this ever came about.  At what point, when there were already close to a thousand churches, did somebody think: ‘Oh I know what this city needs; another church!’ What’s more is that the churches of Rome are unlike any others found throughout the world. Each one has a grand air of extravagance about it with high ceilings coated in gold, and masterpieces covering the outer walls. The first church we entered casually had a Caravaggio painting hanging inside; an artist which you’d otherwise pay hefty entrance fees to see in a gallery.

On our way to the Colosseum we passed the Trevi Fountain which is usually an iconic part of the city. Sadly, however, it was under reconstruction and so we could barely make out the statues beneath the scaffolding. Nevertheless, I threw in a coin over my left shoulder, which if the legend is to be believed, will ensure that this won’t be my last visit to Rome. Magic or no magic, the Trevi fountain has kind of ensured that anyway as I feel I must return one day to see it in all its glory.

After some interesting navigating (using a map as old as my dad) we eventually stumbled across the Colosseum. Of course I’ve seen it a hundred times before in photographs but being in its presence was entirely different. I was truly taken aback by its size which is impressive even now but back when it was built, must have been completely incomprehensible. 

Gazing out across the Colosseum from inside its walls, it was suddenly much easier to piece together how it would have looked all those centuries ago. Something about being there set light to my imagination and I could see the gladiators, sense the death and hear the uproar from the thousands in the stands. It’s despicable what went on here, and yet after seeing it for myself I can understand how crowds could have been swept up in the excitement, allowing themselves to be overwhelmed by the games.

Having marched through Rome for most of the morning, it was more than time for lunch! We were spoilt for choice in terms of brilliant restaurants but we always find that the very best are those off the beaten track, hidden away down narrow lanes and little side streets. In the end we followed our noses and settled for one which smelt incredible and had a great outside area for dining alfresco. It was barely midday but we ordered a round of refreshing apperitivi to start and a carafe of wine to accompany the meal.

Rome is famous amongst Italians for its brilliant pasta and although we realized we’d picked perhaps the only restaurant in the area which was in fact Sardinian, the food was excellent. So excellent, that we were still ordering and eating three hours later. I’m not sure how many carafes of wine we went through but by the time we stood up again we were most definitely drunk. When in Rome, right?

That said, there was still more sightseeing to be done so we staggered off in search of an ice cream to sober us up. Still a little tipsy, it didn’t feel right to be roaming around churches so we soon abandoned the centre of town and climbed to the top of the Pincio Hill for sunset. Having only finished lunch at four o’clock, Stefy and I weren’t hungry but we stopped off on the way back so that my dad could somehow squeeze in dinner. I ordered a hot chocolate, stupidly forgetting that in Italy this translates to 'giant mug of thick melted chocolate’ so in the end, I may as well have had a three course meal.

We turned in relatively early that evening which was rather fortunate as the next morning we were awake early on an unintentional but highly energetic power walk through Rome! We’d booked tickets to enter the Vatican City so that we could skip the queues but it was further than we thought and we were concerned about missing our slot. In the thirty degree heat, the frantic journey there wasn’t exactly a highlight of my trip but once we arrived it was completely worth it.

The inside of the Vatican is essentially an enormous museum which showcases everything ever donated to the Church. This includes artifacts from ancient Egypt, grand Roman sculptures and incredible works of art which in some cases, cover entire wings. You need to be in the right frame of mind to take it all in and truly appreciate what’s in front of you. After endless rooms of old pots and coins, it would be easy to zone out but I kept reminding myself that there’s a story behind every item. With that in mind, what might otherwise have been a mundane rock with a lost language inscribed became a letter once written to a loved one, with a message so important the author spent hours laboriously carving each word into the stone.

The Rafael Rooms were amongst my favourite sections. This young artist spent up to four years just painting one room and did such an amazing job that he was continually commissioned to do more! Along one hallway, another artist has transformed the long walls into maps of Italy that are so accurate they even include tiny villages such as my Dad’s on Lake Como. It may not sound particularly fascinating but if you consider the timing of this project, it’s incredibly impressive. There weren’t any satellites or Google Maps to copy from! Someone would have to physically have travelled to these places, keeping a track of their route before putting it onto paper.

The more exhibitions we passed through, the more apparent it became that the wealth of this church is simply insane. One room alone could abolish world hunger! It’s an odd concept and one which I’m still trying to get my head around.

In the lead up to the Sistene Chapel, there are a couple of small showcases of contemporary and modern art. Usually I’m a big fan of more abstract pieces but having just spent the last hour with the likes of Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci, it was a little difficult to show any real interest.

After another fabulous lunch we wandered over to Piazza de S. Pietro which is of course where the famous Basilica is found. The square is surrounded by dozens of white columns, each topped with a sculpture of a historic figure. Unfortunately these noble Romans were greatly outnumbered by tourists and the queue to enter the Basilica was ridiculously long. Not wanting to stand for three hours in the heat, we admitted defeat and made a mental note to ensure I see it next time. 

So what to do instead? Before I left I asked a good friend of mine who lived in Rome for a year what I should do whilst here. She told me that her favourite building was the Pantheon which is indeed beautiful but later went onto explain that it’s situated near to the best gelateria in the whole of Italy, hence it being on her list of must sees! This unbelievable little place had over one hundred and fifty flavours of ice cream and was so cheap, I felt like trying every single one. Arguably Italy is as famous for its ice cream as it is its Roman ruins, so really I was just being cultured.

Our last supper in Rome was at an another superb back street restaurant and again involved an awful lot of wine. It was great to reminisce on our favourite parts and plan out how we’d spend our final morning. We decided it would be best to head over to Tiber Island and take a look at the richest part of the wealthiest city in Italy. It’s only a small area and we ended up wandering into the Jewish Ghetto which is situated just behind and a drastic contrast. It’s sad to see that there are so many police stationed there because even today there is still often trouble with backwards thinking people who are racist for no reason.

In three days we packed in a lot but still only touched the surface of what there is to see in Rome. Of course I hope to return one day, and if the Trevi Fountain keeps its promise that shouldn’t be a problem! Let’s just hope it doesn’t take me another twenty four years.

A Mini-Break to Bruges

The welcome home balloons had barely touched the ground and I was already packing for my next adventure: this time, Belgium! 

In just four hours, we'd driven down to the coast, crossed the channel and arrived in the beautiful town of Bruges, famous for chocolate, beer and its fairytale buildings. Though it was incredibly easy to arrive by car, Bruges itself is better suited to bicycles so we swapped onto two wheels and pedalled off to explore. 

By following the canal, we soon spotted the centre of town which is rather difficult to miss with its rapunzel-like towers and sleeping beauty spires piercing the sky above the cobbled streets. Every other shop is a chocolatier and as many offer out free samples to taste, it would have been rude not to stop and try. In one particularly sweet-smelling store, we picked out a praline truffle each for the road. However, at the till we were told there was a minimum purchase of one hundred grams; such a terrible shame to be forced to buy more! 

The weather forecast for the next few days was a little ropey so we decided to take advantage of the current sunshine and join a boat cruise along the river. For the next half hour we glided through the water, ducking under the low bridges and listening to the guide as he pointed out all the important parts of town. The canal runs behind many of the houses so it's a fantastic way to gain a closer look at the lives of the locals. For the larger and rather more impressive buildings, however, we had to travel by foot. 

My favourite structure of all was the town hall at the heart of Burg Square. It's a lot to take in but my eyes were immediately drawn to the ancient crests which hang boldly at the belly of the building. These medieval emblems appear to belong to a fantasy world and will no doubt have inspired many such a tale over the years. By night, this architectural masterpiece can be a little daunting due to its sheer size and gothic style but during the day, when the sunlight catches its golden edges, it gives off an entirely different impression. Whilst it retains an air of mystery, it becomes light and inviting as though beckoning you in to indulge in its magic.

Back at our bed and breakfast the indulgence continued as we enjoyed all sorts of little luxuries. The setting was idyllic and the house itself was beautiful; vintage chic with everything we could possibly dream of needing for a splendid few days away. 

After a pot of tea and a heavenly bubble bath (bearing in mind, of course, that I'm still getting used to even having hot water!) we cycled back towards town to find ourselves some dinner. There were dozens of places to choose from but eating out in Bruges is not cheap and my heart dropped when I saw the menus showcased proudly in restaurant windows (bearing in mind again, that I've been paying no more than three dollars for three courses.) However, I soon realised this could work in my favour for it made a diet of chocolate truffles and Belgian street waffles entirely acceptable for the next three days. With that in mind, I felt better about splashing out for this one evening and so ordered a full plate of Flemish croquettes. 

The following morning I made a remarkable discovery; a treat I like more than Nutella! As we sat down to a dreamy breakfast of eggs, fruit, ham, cheese, bread and pastries I noticed the latter was accompanied by a number of spreads. Naturally I reached for the Nutella first but later another caught my eye. Though it was identical to crunchy peanut butter both in colour and consistency, it smelt more like caramel biscuits. And that's exactly what it was! Speculoos, as it is now known, was first introduced on a Dragon's Den style television programme by a Belgian mother who had grown tired of the mess her kids would make when they dipped caramel biscuits into hot drinks to turn them into a spreadable substance. Nowadays, it's the country's most popular spread and I'm delighted to discover that it has made its way across the channel too (and not only in my backpack!) It truly is one of the best things I've ever tasted. 

Anyway, after seeing off an entire glassful of the stuff, we decided it would be wise to counter it with some cycling. The lady at our B&B had recommended we visit Damme, a quaint little town only eight kilometres away. As it was a beautiful morning, it seemed to be the perfect plan. 

However, minutes into the journey dark clouds begin to form and we were soon pedalling frantically to find cover from the rain. Fortunately, we were passing alongside the edge of Bruges and so took cover beneath the large archways in the fortresses which surround the centre. There we waited patiently until it began to clear. 

Sadly though, that was not the end of it and the next time the heavens opened, we weren't so lucky. Though less than a kilometre from our destination at this point, we were on a long, seemingly endless stretch of road. With the river on one side and an open field on the other, we were left with absolutely nowhere to hide. Instead we dismounted the bikes and crouched under an umbrella in an attempt to stay dry but without much success. Twenty minutes later we were still in exactly the same position, only considerably more wet and it became apparent that we wouldn't enjoy ourselves in these soggy conditions. Therefore, by the time it had stopped we'd abandoned our plans to reach Damme by bike, deciding instead to turn back, dry off, and then drive there in the evening. 

Half an hour, two hot chocolates and a hairdryer later, we were ready to face the world again. Miraculously, the sun had returned so we joined a free walking tour in Bruges which I'd found online for backpackers. The guide was a quirky American kid but his public speaking left a lot to be desired. Nevertheless, I learnt some interesting truths about the city, such as they would once use the canal to trap unwanted visitors, and that their church contains a holy cloth believed to be stained with the blood of Christ. The holy cloth is so important to the locals that they host an annual festival every year during which the sacred cloth is paraded around town. The tour's last stop was at a Belgian beer tasting bar but sadly for me, it doesn't matter where it's from or how famous it is; I really do just hate beer!  

Damme, as it turns out, was worth all the effort. When we returned in the evening by car, we found a gorgeous little town which was similar to Bruges but with even more character. The road leading to it is lined with traditional windmills which you'd expect to find throughout Holland. As a result we were hardly surprised to find out that we were very near to the Dutch border and had we carried on cycling that morning, we'd have eventually reached it. After a delicious dinner in Damme, we returned to Bruges in search of Speculoos ice cream which was entirely unnecessary but incredible nonetheless. 

By our third and final day we felt we'd covered a lot of Bruges but still had places left on our list. Being short of time we decided the best way to say we'd seen it all would be to climb the Belfry tower and view the entire city from above. Though you wouldn't notice unless you were told, the Belfry tower leans a whole metre to the right so trekking up to the top was a little unnerving. However, the grand bells which hang throughout the centre are a great distraction, particularly when they sound on every quarter hour. 

Walking the 366 had worked us up an appetite so as soon as we were down we grabbed a Belgian bratwurst and bonita from the street food vans which we'd spotted from above. Though absolutely delicious we were left a little dissatisfied and it was obvious why; on our last day in Bruges, we just had to have chocolate. 

With watering mouths, we entered our final stop of the trip: The Chocostory Chocolate museum. Here, we read up on the entire history of chocolate from it's first discovery to how we see it now in shops. I was fascinated to learn that chocolate was once used as currency, and later as medicine. In even earlier days, it was believed to be the sacred drink of Gods! It's comforting to know that there have always been those who appreciate its value as much as I. 

The tour ended with a demonstration of how to create the perfect truffles. The chocolatier was very impressive, flitting between English, French, Dutch and Flemish to explain to everyone how dark, milk and white chocolate is made (though he stressed that the latter is in fact not chocolate at all!) The best part of the demonstration, however, was getting to taste the truffles at the end. I ate one and added another to my mountain collection of chocolates to take home.

Sadly it was then time to actually go home so we piled everything into the car and sped back off through France. Bruges was the perfect European getaway with a great balance of culture and fun. Though it feels a world away from London, it can be reached in just a few hours so whether you have a week's holiday or a long weekend, I'd recommend Bruges to absolutely everyone. 

Home Sweet/Strange/Super Home

I loved writing this blog and it's great to know that so many others have loved reading it. Though I had no intention of continuing to post after my big trip, I had every intention of continuing to travel, so why not keep it up? 

I'll start with home. The strangest part of coming home was how much I enjoyed it. I really thought that after such a remarkable experience around the world, England just wouldn't do it for me. But I was wrong; my first few weeks have been non-stop amazing.

Though this has largely been down to my incredible friends and family, I think I've found a whole new appreciation for England as a country too. First off it was the efficiency of everything which made me smile; meals served at the same time, buses arriving when they're supposed to, crossing a road without risking your life. I can't say I exactly missed these luxuries whilst tackling the uselessness of all things South American, but I'm not complaining about having them back either. For now at least, it's nice to be able to rely on the promises of a country which has so much promise! 

Considering we're such a tiny little island, England makes a pretty awesome attempt at having almost everything. In Berkshire where I grew up, you feel as though you're in the midst of the countryside, lost amongst endless rows of fields and yet if you follow them for a few minutes, you'll find yourself in town. A few miles more, and you'll end up in London!

For years I could never understand why tourists would come to London for a holiday but now I completely get it. There's no other city like it which is so rich in culture but has successfully combined its old, authentic roots with new, quirky and modern fixtures. The fusion between the two makes it absolutely fascinating and I can now amuse myself for hours simply wandering from place to place, allowing that spectacular skyline to sink in. 

And whilst the rest of England might have everything, London redefines the very meaning of the word by continually expanding the realms of possibility. Pop-up shops, spinning restaurants, rooftop golf, an artificial beach; if you've imagined it, London's installed it. Though it could quite easily have counted on the glory of its classic attractions, it has taken a rather different stance and instead experiments with new innovations to capture the curiosity of future crowds.

Above all though, London emanates hope. Few other cities are so overwhelmed with opportunity and I'm thankful to have been born in a country which has allowed me to achieve so much not only within it, but elsewhere in the world too. In the wonderful words of Jamie Cullen:

 'You know the sunlight always shines,

Behind the clouds of London skies'. 

Even on the greyest of days, England is bright, beautiful and full of hope, and I feel very fortunate to call it home. 

That said, home will always be here so I'm making the most of my last month of freedom by travelling a little around the rest of Europe. Two weeks was the perfect length of time to catch up with loved ones and secure a job back in London and now I'm off to explore the continent!

The Epilogue: A Traveller's Tales

Travel. It's an idea which so many of us dream of and yet so few people go ahead and make it a reality. If you're waiting for a good time to go, don't. There will never be one and you'll never leave. In fact, the longer you put it off, the more reasons you'll find for why it's a terrible time. Remember that boyfriend, that flat and that job you had tying you down in your twenties? Well all of a sudden they've become a husband, a mortgage and a baby which from what I hear, are considerably harder to negotiate with.

Travel. We met so many people along our way who have never had the chance to leave their hometown but my bets are that if you're reading this, you aren't one of them. This time last year when I'd just booked my tickets, I was overwhelmed by friends telling me how lucky I was. But whilst I'm very lucky to have grown up in a stable family in a stable country with plenty of opportunity, in the context of my friends who all have the same thing, luck played no part. We're in the same boat here and if you want to make travelling your priority, all you need to do is begin to live within or beneath your means; shop less, drink less and be mindful of putting your money towards things which are genuinely important for you. Do this and you'll soon find you have more than enough money to fund yourself for a few months away.
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Travel. So why should you make it your priority? You know the quote: Life is a book and those who don't travel only read the first page. Well, as cringe and as cliché as it might sound, I've never heard a truer word. There's an entire world out there that's waiting to be discovered so why limit yourself to just one side? Go and explore the unknown; try new foods, dance to new music, meet new people and immerse yourself in entirely new cultures. Maybe you'll love it, maybe you'll hate it but how do you know until you've tried?


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Travel. Break free from your bubble, disrupt your routine and allow yourself to really live. Travelling's not about escaping life or even necessarily changing it, rather just taking a time out to sit back and acknowledge how wonderful it is. Because it really is! Rid yourself of the negatives, detox the dramas and all you're left with is stacks of potential for amazing opportunities. Life should be enjoyed, not just endured but when you become too used to the same routine, it's easy to glaze over the every day wonders and let weeks pass by unappreciated. On the contrary when you have the freedom to make every day remarkable, it's astounding the things you'll come up with to make that happen.
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Travel. Of course there are hard times. There's nothing fun about lugging your twenty kilo backpack on two sunburnt shoulders through blistering heat, in search of a hostel that potentially doesn't exist. Make no mistake, this is not a year long holiday. But these difficult and challenging times are all part of the experience and we often found that we willingly brought them upon ourselves. We hiked up volcanoes, trekked through mountains and spent thirty hours on a long haul bus, each time knowing that it would make us a better and stronger person. Now, whenever I'm fed up or struggling with a task, I need only to say to myself: Chiara, you climbed Rinjani, and all of a sudden I find an extra bit of strength. I'll carry that with me forever; I can do it, I've overcome worse.

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Travel. The most important thing to remember about those difficult times is that they're never served without a slice of perspective on the side. Faced with that big, wide world, your own problems and in fact your entire being suddenly seem incredibly small; not only in size but severity too. When you've witnessed how the other half live, your idea of 'difficult' really starts to shift. Who are we to complain about being tired when there are children wandering the streets at eleven o'clock at night begging for food? Or pregnant women up at the crack of dawn walking for four hours to the nearest village for water? Looking at your life through travel tinted glasses, it seems pretty peachy even at its worst. First world pains aren't pains at all; they're not even pin pricks on the grand scheme of things so whatever happens, I now know I've got a pretty good deal. 
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Travel. Perhaps the most amazing discovery throughout my travels, is how people with a crap deal cope regardless. Try telling the kids playing soccer with a coconut that they're supposed to be miserable. Or the families dancing in the street that they shouldn't have the energy. Watching others enjoy life against all odds has been a real eye opener to the fact that we're all responsible for our own happiness. There was a point where I worried that I'd never be happy returning to a gloomy London, but it's inspiring to now know that as human beings, we can make happiness happen anywhere. 



So travel. It makes you a better person, your world a better place, and your dinner party anecdotes a lot more diverse. Travel now, travel far, travel hard, just travel! There will be plenty of time for thinking later. 

The Adventure's End #GoneGlobal

Ten months.

Eighteen countries.

Ninety eight places.

One hundred and one blog posts.

And all of a sudden I feel lost for words. 

We're flying home today.

Home.

Today.

My current state can only be described as one massive mess of confusion and conflict. Excited, sad, desperate, devastated, nostalgic, inspired; overwhelmed. 

Such an epic journey deserves a proper end and I hope to use this thirteen hour flight to collect my thoughts properly and do just that.

But for now, all I'll say is this:

It has been incredible.

I hope I have done it justice. 

And I'll see you all tomorrow...!!

The South American Adventure

So here we are almost four months later, back in Buenos Aires having completed a full circle of South America. When we were last here, I was still finding my feet on this strange, new continent and yet now I feel bizarrely at home. Strange, because in a couple of day's time we'll be in our actual homes and there are very few similarities which can be drawn between the two.  

This thought sparked an idea! By comparing England and South America, I can both reflect on my time here and bring this final chapter to a close, highlighting what I've missed about home and what I will miss about South America when I'm finally back on British soil.

#1 English Restaurants vs. South American Street Food

In England we're lucky that we have access to all kinds of cuisines but what we're missing is the option of buying it from a food market. From arepas and tortillas, to tapiocas and buñuelos, the very best South American meals are found on the street. Nothing feels more authentic than sitting cross legged on a cobbled step gobbling down a meal you've seen cooked right in front of you. Though we may have the occasional market in England, it lacks the excitement found at South American food stalls because the meals are priced similarly to nearby restaurants. The beauty of South America's street food is that it's so cheap, you have the freedom to try all kinds of crazy looking dishes which invariably lead to some amazing discoveries. If you don't like a meal, you've lost a couple of pounds at most but the same cannot be said for our London equivalents. It's worth noting that whichever continent you're on, people will often try and warn you away from street food but unless you have a stomach which is lined with flower petals, you'll more than likely be absolutely fine.

#2 English Parties vs. South American Fiestas

I do love good old English nights out but they're a world away from the parties thrown throughout South America. Whereas we like to plan our festivities down to a tee, including which pair of heels will be most appropriate for which club, South Americans just chuck it all together in a spectacularly spontaneous way. Wherever there are people there's potential for a party, whether it be a beach, a city square or a random back street alleyway. Just add some music and the dancing begins! If you were to stop and ask a South American why they're celebrating they'd look at you like you're crazy; 'because we're alive of course!' If you asked the same of a Brit on a night out they'd look at you like you're crazy and down another jägerbomb. 

#3 English Landscapes vs. South American Scenery

South America is massive and so it only makes sense that it has every kind of scenery you could possibly imagine. However, imagining it simply isn't enough and most of it you truly have to see to believe. One country alone can be home to tropical beaches, snow capped mountains, baron deserts and the Amazon rainforest! It's really quite amazing how quickly the scenery can change and no matter how much ground we covered, we never grew bored of simply staring out into South American space. England has some beautiful areas but it lacks the huge variety which makes South America so exciting.

#4 English Solitude vs. South American Smiles 

We English keep ourselves to ourselves. Nobody wants to be that crazy person on the tube who strikes up conversation, even less so the poor soul who has to suffer sitting next to that crazy person. In South America it seems the opposite is true; you'd be mad not to speak to the person next to you. Language barrier? No problem. They'll tease a sentence out of you even if it takes them the entire thirty hour bus journey. As much as they interact with one another, we found locals to be twice as interested in us. They'd offer directions before we even realised we were lost and stop us in the most random places simply to ask where we're from. Initially we had our guards up: all these stories had convinced us that any attempt to speak with us would be some sort of distraction whilst their mate mugged our bags but we soon realised these people have a genuine interest in others around them. And why not? Virtually everyone we spoke to taught us something new and we were continually surprised by the people we'd then choose to return to for a second conversation. 

#5 English Prices vs. South American Pennies

Aside from Brazil and Chile, the countries we visited in South America were dirt cheap. This has obvious benefits but best of all was that it enabled us to try new things that we would never have been able to afford on the same budget in England. For example, we swam with wild dolphins, threw ourselves down a canyon and climbed a 6,000m mountain all for the equivalent of just a few pounds a time. I imagined that dealing with such small figures would devalue the money but quite the contrary! We were ecstatic each time we haggled hard and saved ourselves an almighty sixty pence because that additional sixty pence was not only a couple of coins, but three empanadas, a laundry service or an entire meal at the food market. I'm going to miss how far our money goes and our dedication to making every penny count. 

#6 English Graffiti vs. South American Street Art

Any spritz of colour in an English city is deemed to be vandalism whereas in South America, it is celebrated as art. As a result it's a beautiful and vibrant continent with every blank space a potential canvas for the latest innovative street art masterpiece. Almost every town and city we visited was filled with street murals and interesting, abstract statues, as though the entire area is one big art gallery. I understand there's a fine line between a masterpiece and a monstrosity but I can't help thinking England could do with a little lightening up. If we stopped chasing down every kid with a spray can we might give them time to develop their mindless graffiti into something a little more meaningful.

#7 English Long Journeys vs. South American Never-ending Journeys 

Having done some rough sums we've worked out that during our four months in South America we've spent over four hundred hours on buses. That's about two and a half weeks! The longest stint was our last where we did three overnight journeys in a row, from La Paz to Uyuni, Uyuni to Villazon and Villazon to Buenos Aires - a total of sixty two hours, without including the waiting time inbetween. If we were to drive for this long in England we'd end up half way to Africa! It's hilarious to me now that I used to complain about a one hour journey into London when we can now happily endure a twenty hour bus over various borders. That said, whilst some of the buses were absolutely horrendous, others were very pleasant with fully reclining chairs, in-seat entertainment and three course meals. National Express could learn a lot from Argentinian bus companies!

#8 English Highlands vs. South American Mountains

As much as I love the beautiful South American mountains, they come at a price: altitude! Unless you're content with admiring them from below you'll likely suffer the headaches and breathlessness caused by being so high. Initially we were literally waking up in the night gasping for air and feeling as though we'd run a marathon after climbing a flight of stairs. Though we gradually acclimatised, I never got fully used to living in the clouds and I'm looking forward to feeling full of life again down at ground zero. English countryside can be just as impressive despite not ever exceeding the one thousand metre mark.

#9 English Customer Service vs. South American Sloth Service

South Americans are never in a hurry and their customer service leaves a lot to be desired. It completely baffled us that we could spend twenty minutes queuing to pay for three items at a supermarket, or three hours to do a border crossing that some people have to do every day. Fortunately, as travellers we were rarely pushed for time either and so mostly found their laid back outlook rather refreshing but if I were to actually live here, I think I'd find it far more infuriating. For a nation that love to celebrate life, they spend a hell of a lot of it waiting around for something to happen.

#10 English Health & Safety Madness vs. South American See-What-Happens Mantra

This is always a tricky one. Whilst health and safety regulations are obviously put in place to reduce the likelihood of accidents occurring, when they're applied stringently they simultaneously reduce the likelihood of having any fun. If we'd been following British rules, there's no way we'd have been allowed to share a stream with alligators, walk along an active train track or race head first down a vertical sand slope; all of which were truly awesome. However, had we been eaten, run over or left with broken bones, I imagine they would have been considerably less enjoyable. I'm not sure either continent has the balance completely right here but it was exciting to err on the side of incaution for a little while, and thankfully I've lived to tell tale (touch wood, one day to go!) Where I do definitely side with England though is their approach to hygiene. Though forced to accept a long time ago that filthy squat toilets won't kill me, I nevertheless will be ecstatic to return to western bathroom facilities where the prominent colour is white and toilet roll can actually be thrown into the toilet. 

England and South America really are worlds apart and yet I find myself thinking fondly of both. How is it that I can be happy in two places which are in so many ways direct opposites of one another? Well one thing I've certainly learnt since being away is that nothing is ever black and white in terms of being good or bad, right or wrong, and I think these two places are a great example of that. One is not perfect and the other flawed; they're both just different and both just fine. In fact, more than fine, they're both f*cking fantastic!

I never thought I could love a continent as much as I love Asia but South America has exceeded all my expectations. We spent just shy of four months here but I think even after four years I'd still be left wanting more. I'm almost pleased that there are parts we missed out on because it just means we'll have to return! I've no doubt I'll be back before I know it and I absolutely cannot wait.