Edinburgh and what not to do….

Those of you who have broken a bone will know what this feels like…the feeling of being disconnected from a limb…

Saturday 20th January - I waved my left arm about – about 10 metres from the top of Arthur’s Seat frantically shouting ‘my arm, I can’t feel it anymore’; adrenaline coursing through my body, the cold air hitting my exposed skin, and that feeling of pure dread knowing I’d done something nasty to my body…and wondering ‘how the heck am I going to get out of this sticky situation I’d got myself into. And, more important, how the *bleep* am I going to get down from this mountain and get help?’

I knew the second my feet slipped out from under me - and I tried to break my fall by stretching out my left arm, banging my head onto solid rock in the process - that this wasn’t going to be a little bump. I just knew I wasn't going to walk away slightly bruised from this fall.

The piercing pain and the feeling that I was picking up half my arm from the floor just didn’t feel right.

Andrew - who I’m so glad was with me in Edinburgh (thank god, I wasn't travelling solo this time) tries to calm me down. I remember his look that was saying 'you're going to have to move'. But as stroppy as it seemed at the time, there really was no way I was moving from the spot I’d slumped into. Holding onto my arm for dear life, Andrew sprung into first aider action (ironically I was the one with the first aider certificate!). Anyway! he made me a sling out of a spare thermal he had in his backpack... whilst I sat there and well, cried.

I’m not quite sure what was going on in each other’s heads at that moment. I was freaking out thinking ‘why has this just happened. We’re on top of a windy mountain – although to be honest, I’m not even sure you’d call it a mountain. It’s more of a steep hill…but, at that moment in time, it just felt like a huge big gigantic mountain - it’s icy, it's cold and there is no one around’.
It’s not even like I could hobble a few metres to the nearest help-point, and I really didn’t fancy being left alone whilst Andrew went to find help.

…moments later and like a knight in shining armour – or maybe just pure luck – or, I like to think that someone was looking down on us – a man appeared from nowhere. I glimpsed the word ‘Ranger’ on the man’s sweatshirt, but assumed it was just one of those branded sweatshirt you get nowadays.
But, my knight - aka Robbie the Ranger - took one look at my face and said “you look like you need help?” and then he sprung into rescue action, reassuring us he’d seen worse, and injecting a little humour into the situation. I was so relieved to see Robbie, and so relieved he was there to help. He was asking so many questions....

“did I need air lifting?”, “could I walk”, “how was the pain?….”

... mountain rescue armed with pain relief were on soon their way, as well as an ambulance. The whole time I was thinking “what is mum going to say when she finds out?’. Because I travel alone a fair bit, she’s got into the habit of telling me ‘not to lose anything, to be careful, to make sure I look after my phone, to keep my passport, money and most importantly myself stay safe’, so I REALLY wasn't looking forward to her finding out about this little incident. 

Andrew and Robbie manage to hoist me up and onto my feet, and with teeny baby steps and lots of stopping to get my breath back, we manage to get to a more sheltered and safe spot. Still, we were nowhere easy for the mountain rescue paramedics to reach me. I was unsteady on my feet and it was slippy, so we resort to sliding me down on my bum - so very ladylike!
Robbie asks how I feel about going a little further and by this time all I want to do is get to the bottom of the mountain, get somewhere warm and for the pain to stop. We see the ambulance in the distance making its way to the bottom of the mountain (hill!). So, wobbly on my feet, and trying to let my arm sink into the makeshift sling around my neck, I hold onto Robbie like my life depends on him, and we take each step, one at a time looking for solid ground where it’s not icy, and where I can place my foot….but, we both slip. I shriek and pain slices through my shoulder.
I wasn't going any further, so Robbie makes me sit and we wait….

It doesn’t take long before three jolly mountain rescuers reach us and take over. I was a little sad to see Robbie back away. Handing me gas and air (my first experience), the guys hoisted me into a sleigh. The rescue takes just over two hours. I remember lying back in the sleigh and looking up at blue sky – it was the first time I realised it all felt so quiet and peaceful up there. I thought how lucky we were that it wasn’t moody and raining. I mean, Scotland is "always" cold and rainy right? (it could all be worse). Inhaling the gas and air – boy, that stuff is AMAZING. I never realised how good it was, I thought it was all in the mind! It’s a shame you can’t buy bottles of it!

Careful not to slip themselves, the rescue team lower me down the mountain and onto flat ground. The next stretch of the rescue was getting me up and onto a buggy – a bit like a golf buggy. I hate attention, fuss and being a nuisance, and all of this all felt like I was doing all three, plus it all felt so dramatic!

And, then it was off to meet two more paramedics and an ambulance….more attention, more fuss, more questions, all just because I’d stupidly slipped and hurt myself :-(

I’ve never been in an ambulance before, so this was another first. And, by now I was sporting a nasty black eye – I’d completely forgotten I’d hit my head as I fell, and I was shaking uncontrollably. I was also a little upset that my gas and air had been taken away from me too – pain was kicking in again :-(

Within half an hour after reaching Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, I’d been x-rayed, checked over by a doctor - making sure I hadn’t been concussed from my fall - and had it confirmed that I had indeed broken my shoulder – the humerus (which to me sounded like hummus).
And, there was me thinking I’d just dislocated my shoulder and all that would happen was a nice doctor would just pop it back into place, and I could go about enjoying the rest of the weekend……sadly not....

Something else was bothering me as I sat talking to the doctor. I was a little concerned that he may have thought I’d wet myself – the chair I’d been sat on had a wet patch from my wet leggings from where I’d slid down the snowy mountain (hill). So reassuring the doctor that I hadn’t peed myself, he popped on a collar and cuff and we said goodbye!

So that was that, not long after that Andrew and I were on our way back home to London – not even 24-hours after we’d arrived. “I feel so bad I’ve spoilt the weekend” I repeatedly said to Andrew who’d now assumed nurse duties, including all lifting and carrying of bags.

We should have been tucking into a breakfast of scrambled eggs, avocado and smoked salmon on toast in one of the many cute cafés that we’d spotted and earmarked the night before. Instead of that, we were back in the comfort of an LNER Train first class carriage looking at each other – me apologizing and feeling sorry for myself, whilst taking bites out of an egg mayo sandwich -which to me still feels like the best ever egg mayo sandwich ever to be made!

All the drama had given me the munchies too, so when the trolley came around a second time, I didn’t say no to a second sandwich and some shortbread biscuits!

The next morning having been to Lewisham Hospital casualty as soon as I got home (and faced my mum), I had it re-confirmed I had broken my shoulder. I spent the next the days feeling very sorry for myself and popping Cocodomol to ease the pain.
Fast forward two weeks after that day, and I returned to hospital for what I thought was a check-up. Sitting waiting for my name to be called out, one of the doctors walked past me and recognised me. Me being me thinks ‘aww, he remembered me, that’s so cute, I must have made an impression!’...but he had other reasons and questions including….“when did you last eat Lucy?”. Hmmm, I wasn’t expecting that….I knew instantly what was meant…an operation…a few hours later I was sitting in a hospital waiting room, filling in consent forms and anticipating my anaesthetist to call my name whenever someone came into the room. It all felt a bit like sitting in a bizarre dentist. One person would get called for their op, and would head off in their white gown, and then another anxious person arrived.

A good few months later pinned and plated, I’m able to write about ‘what NOT to do in Edinburgh!’

Big thanks to Andrew for looking after me and taking care of me – this guy has seen me at my best and at my worst – and I’m lucky to have him as a friend. And huge thanks to Robbie the Ranger, mountain rescue and paramedics who also looked after me on that Saturday morning.

So, what did we see in Edinburgh?

Apart from leaving a little part of me up at the top of Arthurs Seat and the view…..

We… had a comfortable and hassle-free ride through the villages, towns and cities of the east coast with LNER Trains. Not forgetting the best egg mayo sandwich!

We… spoke to some super friendly local people on the bus ride to our cosy Airbnb (which came complete with Tunnock’s caramel wafers and Whiskey)

We…had a lovely walk to the Old Town on Friday evening. The city has a lovely old-charm feel with cobbled streets and cafes everywhere – and I do love a café. I had a good feeling on that Friday evening that I was going to enjoy taking photos of the city (pre-drama)

We…stopped at the famous Harry Potter Elephant Café. I had no pre-illusions about this café, and I admit to never reading or watching any of the books or films. The café had a traditional feel to it, but it was also incredibly touristy. It was a funny experience. We ordered homemade tomato and lentil soup, with bread….the soup arrived and we started eating. But half way through we looked up at each other…. there wasn’t a tomato or lentil in sight. Ha, it was all vegetable and it was delicious.

I wasn’t going to mention this, but I was reminded of a wee incident on our brief evening walk and bus journey home to our Airbnb. Perhaps it was an omen or a warning…we alighted the bus, and guess who manages to find the patch of black ice and falls slap bang onto her bum? Yup, me. I found that all very funny. I was more concerned about my camera than my bottom!

Here’s Andrew’s account of the day, in his words…

I Andrew, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and mostly the truth.

Well, let’s set the scene. It was a beautiful Edinburgh morning in January. Snow was crunching under foot as we walked through the deserted streets up to the beautiful Holyrood Park, home to Arthur’s Seat. The scene of the crime.

We passed through the park following Google maps to the foot of the mountain, which apparently is technically a hil - but it felt like a mountain. And we began our climb.

Looking back, the warning signs were there. We were both sliding around on the snow and ice so should have called it quits there, but we could see other people making the climb so thought ‘hey, it can’t be that bad’. On we walked getting higher and higher. We were still slipping about but the top was in sight. We were in a narrow gully which looked like it led to the summit with the promised view across the city.

It was all supposed to be so simple, a gentle walk to the top, take a few pictures of the view and then down for breakfast in one of the cute cafes. And that’s when it happened. In a matter of second our weekend took a dramatic change. One second Lucy was on her feet, the next she was on the floor face down in the snow. 

I started laughing as I’m a nice guy like that. But as soon as Lucy rolled over I knew something wasn’t right as she was as white as a sheet. She kept saying I can’t feel my arm, whilst waving it at me. Lucy stopped waving her arm and started crying. It was at that point I knew we had to get off the hill. Which was going to be a challenge as Lucy was now clutching her arm and refusing to move. But move, we had too. I some managed to get Lucy to slide down the 5 metres on her foot while I dragged her other foot. But that was as far as she was going. We were stuck.

I was doing my best not to freak out at the situation for Lucy’s sake, but I was beginning to get worried. And then like a miracle, Robbie the Ranger appeared. He instantly took control of the situation and calmed us both down. Lucy was wrapped in one of those silver foil blankets and was slowing sliding down the hill. And then the pain really kicked in and we were not moving any further. We were then given a number of options, some of the words used included mountain rescue, special buggy, ambulance and even helicopter. We managed to persuade Lucy to move to a point where the special rescue team would be able to reach us.

It was at this point that I for some reason started talking photos of Lucy in her moment of pain, but I know Lucy well and knew that she would appreciate the pictures. Turns out I was right. Phew! The mountain rescue team met us and loaded Lucy into the stretcher. They then gave Lucy gas and air for the pain and her mood instantly lifted. It lifted so much she decided she wanted to have a baby as the gas and air was sooooooo good. 

This was when the amazing vehicle turned into something from Thunderbirds, if Thunderbirds had golf buggies with 6 wheels. Lucy and her stretcher were strapped to the began her descent. Whilst I had to walk.

The mountain rescue crew and Robbie were amazing and got us down from the mountain and into the warmth of the ambulance. Before we were whisked off to Edinburgh’s top tourist hot spot: The A&E department!

Day trip to Florence...

During my trip to Rome, I had my sights set on going to Florence for the day – even after my Airbnb host said ‘it would be too short and too tiring’ – nothing was going to change my mind. The trains run frequent and I’d already consulted my Italian ex work buddy Emmanuele, and if he said it was easy, then I knew to trust him (thank you Emmanuele).

I know I’ve said to really soak up and uncover a city and all its charm, ‘you have to live a city’ – and that means spending more than a day somewhere, but hey, one day was better than none….and one day I will ‘live Florence’. I already knew I wasn’t going to see everything in one day, and I was intent on not rushing to see everything. And anyway, I love having a reason to return somewhere :-)

I’d already booked and paid for my ticket a few days in advance, so all I had to do was find my platform and my seat. I chose a super early 7.45am train. The tickets are cheaper if you book ahead – my return ticket was approx. 60 euros. But, if you know exactly what day you want to travel, it’s even cheaper if you book a few weeks ahead. So, that morning (1st December), I set my alarm super early and headed at 6.30am for the Termini Station in Rome. I had a 50-minute walk, hence my early start. It was a dark morning when I left my cosy home, and walked through the streets, but I was excited at the thought of making this trip. The journey isn’t too long (just under 2 hours), and the ride itself is beautiful. Passing through little towns, and Tuscan fields of trees and fog, I had to resist the urge to get off at a random stop just to take a photo. I thought of my photographer friends who would have loved to have shot with their drone here. It really was special.

I arrived into Santa Maria Novella train station on time 9.17am…and oh boy, first though was ‘it’s so much colder here!’. Luckily once you’re in Florence, its small-town feel makes it so easy to travel about from one spot to another on foot. It’s probably one of the most accessible and walkable main Italian cities.

I’d been to Florence before and writing this now, I can still remember what it was like to catch my first glimpse of Santa Maria del Fiore – it was just how I remembered it. Breathtakingly beautiful. It’s one of the most famous Cathedrals in Italy due in part to its huge dome . I had a sense of Deja-vu walking around the cathedral – I circled it twice just to get a feel for its immensity and to see ‘the gates of heaven’- and I remembered the day when mum and I stood watching a religious procession. The weather totally opposite to what I was experiencing this time around – it was sunny, hot and Mum and I were a little shocked at our rather expensive and rather huge £5 gelato! I had to dig out the photos of us on my return. It was September 2011 and I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was still early morning, and relatively free from tourists, so I headed to Giotto’s Campanile first as there was no queue. Reliving previous bell tower climbs and also the Leaning Tower of Pisa, I was prepared to work up a sweat. There are 414 steps to reach the very top; it’s unmistakably memorable, and it’s also a symbol – much like the Duomo – of Florence. From the lofty heights of the top, you’ll be rewarded by several grand panoramic views of the city, the surrounding hills and of the cathedral and Cupola of Brunelleschi itself. It really is quite beautiful.

Rather than taking a teeny rest, I decided there was no time like the present to face the next climb and I headed straight for the Cathedral Cupola…there was a little queue, and I knew if I left it any later the queue would be ten times, if not more long (I was right). After seeing the Duomo from all side and visiting inside, I wanted to see inside the dome and the view, so I booked my time slot, and dodging a rain shower I headed in. My legs were still recovering from the Campanile climb, and silly me didn’t notice the 463 steps to reach the top of the Cupola. It was too late to change my mind, and so up I went. I felt quite proud of my achievement once I’d reached the top, and wow, the view! I thought the Campanile view was a beauty, this was even more spectacular (well, I thought so). Not only do you get a remarkable view of the city from the top, but as you climb, you also get to see a different perspective of inside the Cathedral, and of the stunning and intricate frescoes. It’s something you can’t miss seeing in Florence.

Naturally, once back on the ground, I needed to refuel…on gelato, and headed for Gelateria Edoardo where news to me, I found out that Florence is the birthplace of Gelato! How an earth did I not know this? Naturally coming here felt like a good sign that I was in good hands with whatever flavours I choose…. always pistachio though ;-)

Other than the Cathedral, I had no real agenda, I just wanted to walk and enjoy Florence, and that’s exactly what I did. I soon found myself at another spot I remember so vividly…Ponte Vecchio, one of Florence’s oldest and most beloved landmarks. Literally translated as the ‘old bridge’, I love the history and Romantiscm of this bridge. While today the bridge is known for its illustrious jewellery shops, and hanging balconies, the history of this bridge is interesting (to me anyway). Beneath the glitz of gold rings, chains and watches is a bridge that’s stood the test of time. A gold necklace can be bought anywhere, but a gold necklace purchased on the Ponte Vecchio, is not just gold, it’s all in the location that make that item of gold so special. It’s an experience. I was drawn back to the bridge various times that day – I guarantee anyone visiting will be too – the light changes at different hours of the day. The Cathedral is impressive, the museums and galleries spectacular, but for me Ponte Vecchio is my favourite sport; at sun set the bridge literally bathes in gold and at night it twinkles. It’s so completely charming.

Another important spot linked to the bridge is the Vasari Corridor – and oh my, when the light hits this corridor all kinds of wonderful shadows, sun beams and magic happens. It’s a long corridor that links the Uffizi Gallery to the Pitti Palace. I had so much fun taking photos here, that I had to stop and make myself head to Piazza dell Signoria and Palazzo Vecchio – Florence’s most famous square.

Time was ticking-on, my train was due to depart at 7.33pm…and I felt like I had so much more to see. I’d only scratched the surface of this city – I was drawn by too many smartly dressed men in trilby hats to photograph too. It was making me sad that I was going to have to leave so soon…

Top tip, unlike me, if you don’t want to just walk and wander, and you do want to tick off some sights, you’re going to have to make yourself a little itinerary. Florence really does hold some of the most magnificent masterpieces in the world. There are the major museums and galleries to visit including the Uffizi home to Michelangelo’s David (plan ahead if you want to visit here. It’s the biggest and best museum, and also the hardest to get into), The Academia, Palazzo Vecchio and Palazzo Pitti, churches including Santa Croce, Giardino de Boboli (I like saying the name Boboli), a market, as well as the many streets (on either side of Ponte Vecchio bridge) and piazzas to get lost in. Not to mention all those energy refuelling pit stops to make in the cafés and restaurants. And, because it was gearing up to the festive season, everywhere had taken on that magic Christmas feel.

Sadly, I didn’t have time to visit the numerous art galleries – as you can see from above, there’s enough to keep you busy for weeks on end – as well as beautiful Renaissance churches, buildings and streets. There’s also the view at Pizzale Michelangelo. I was told the view here is a little of a hike up a hill, but it’s a great way to see a stunning view of the city without having to pay to climb the steps of the Duomo. 

Maybe next time, because Florence, I’m sure to be back x

Rome in December...

So, the end of 2017, and my final trip of the year. I’m cheating slightly and doing one trip over two months, but visiting two cities, Rome and Florence (actually, it’s three as we can’t forget The Vatican too). I never expected 2017 to be so topsy-turvy. Life isn’t always easy by no means, people can be messy, confusing and complicated and there are bound to be disappointments, but I’m super thankful that I achieved so much travelling, made many memories and had some good people around me. I learnt a great deal about myself in 2017 – maybe that’s one for another blog post - and I ended the year healthy and around my family.

So, Rome…I visited this city at the beginning of summer 2016. It was somewhere I had always dreamt of visiting; I’m surprised it took me so long to get there to be honest. I built up such a romantic image of the city in my mind, and in all honesty, I wasn’t blown away on that first visit. That bugged me, because if you’ve read my previous blogs, you’ll notice that I adore Italy. I found it way too touristy, and despite thinking I was being vigilant and careful, I had my phone stolen – not fun when you’re flying solo and rely heavily on google maps!

So, why go back? Like I say, I adore Italy, and it bothered me that I didn’t fall in love with The Eternal City. I seem to have found a love of visiting this country in winter months too – I just find it so much more magical, mysterious, intriguing and romantic. It’s also not as busy. I was also determined that I was going to take a day trip to Florence too. It’s another city Mum and I visited years ago on a coach trip. We both remember walking across the Ponte Vecchio bridge and stopping to take the obligatory photo. I knew even then, that I would have to go back one day.

Since returning home to London after my last trip to Palermo, I found myself having ‘up and down’ days. I really missed my ‘office work routine’ (which I guess after having devoted 20 years to the same company was only to be expected). I had days where everything was exciting and I was super productive, and then days where I felt alone and a little melancholic. I was usually that person giggling at an inappropriate joke and making some rude remark in an office full of people - I missed the office banter. I was going to have to adapt. I sat in my new little office-space thinking. I caught up on some writing, sent emails, did a little networking, but I needed to get away somewhere I could take photos, explore, discover new things, think with no distraction, put a few feelings ‘to bed’ so-to-speak, and write for a few days…and Rome seemed like a perfect choice.

“…it’s almost 11 o’clock when the train pulls into Trastevere railway station, and after ten minutes, the rain which was a faint drizzle not-so conveniently starts to get heavier. I look to my phone and google maps, and plod on; it’s not too far a walk. I look a little soggy when I arrive outside my Airbnb and greet Maria. Climbing the stairs my feet a little squelchy, I head down a teeny corridor and into the cutest, most adorable room. It’s a loft, and O.M.G it’s so adorable. All thoughts of how soggy and wet I look are forgotten. I want to stay here forever!” I remember this exact sequence like it’s happening to me right now and I’m actually there….

As much as I wanted to sit in my adorable little loft, warm up and dry off, it’s early. And, it’s still light outside. I’m eager and excited to explore. I hadn’t really explored much of Trastevere the last time, and I knew it was one of the prettiest and most local areas of the city. Thankfully I packed an extra pair of trainers, so at least I had dry feet!

I walked around that afternoon with a smile on my face, I had a good feeling that this trip was going to be fun. That evening I called home and spoke to my Mum. I told her all about my cosy loft with its fairy lights and bed in the ceiling. It had started raining again, so I made a cup of tea, headed up the teeny wooden step ladder to bed and listened to the rain.

The next morning, I woke up early - just before sunrise - and made my way up to Janiculum Hill. Last nights’ rain had made way for a beautiful and mystical foggy morning. It was a little eerie too, but it was early. I was all on my own except for a lonely dog walker who appeared from nowhere through the fog. Minutes’ earlier I was only thinking to myself ‘I wish someone would walk towards me, it would make a great photo’! Slightly unprepared, I think I still got a photo. I then stood and gazed out at what I imagined was a view over the city. The sun broke through the clouds and my tummy grumbled. I realised I’d not eaten since yesterday afternoon. 

Some of my favourite spots in Rome may not be the quintessentially top places to visit in the city, but they are my favourite, and I hope from reading my post you’ll see why…maybe you’ll bookmark this page and if you ever visit, you’ll discover your own favourites.

I also did my first ever Big Bus Tour and hands down, it’s a perfect way to see the city. More on that later…

So, Trastevere, is right on the River Tiber. I took a fair few walks along this river in the morning, just as life in the city was gearing up for the day. It’s one of those Italian neighbourhoods that rises with the sun and parties with the moon. Outdoor cafés and restaurants fill pathways flowing through streets of beautifully worn buildings; locals gather to share a morning espresso and a gossip; workers head off to start their day and children hurry off to school. As sunsets, the outdoor cafes are replaced by popular bars and clubs and there’s a cheerful infectious atmosphere that fills the air. It’s one of the only neighbourhoods in Rome where there’s a large mix of locals and travellers. I like it a lot. It feels friendly, it feels like I’m living with the locals, it feels safe and I’m so glad I chose to stay here. I find a cute café and order an Americano and croissant, which I greedily devour.

Another of my favourites is Piazza Navona – I love this Piazza, more so than when I visited in summer, and I loved it then too! The size of the square, life and laughter coming from the bars and restaurant that surround; shouts of buongiorno and buonsera, the Bernini fountain and just the whole vibe. And, yes, it gets touristy – extremely touristy come midday - but standing in the middle of the square and just watching life unfold in the morning is something I loved. The streets leading off from the square around the districts of Ponte and Parione are possibly – in my opinion – some of the prettiest around Rome too. Oh, and Via del Coronari is where my favourite gelateria @gelateriadelteatro is located, so naturally I gravitated to this street a fair bit. Of course, I tried other gelaterias (it would be rude not to right?), but I was summoned back to this one for its unique flavours and for the friendly people behind the counter who loved to help sway my decision when it came to taste combinations. It’s slightly hidden, and for some reason has a peaceful ambience. I always found a gathering of old Italian gentlemen sitting around the fountain smoking cigars, crying out buongiorno to well-dressed locals gliding by on vintage bicycles, or admiring a pretty girl. Essentially this street is made for strolling, peering in the windows of the art and antique stores, stopping for a caffé – or in my case a gelato - and watching the eclectic locals.

Not far from here - pretty much opposite Castel Sant’ Angelo - is where I fell in love with the harsh mid-morning light, I literally stood and had heart eyes for the light that bathed the cobbled streets casting the most amazing shadows. I stood waiting, willing for a person to walk into the light so I could capture them and their shadow. And, if they didn’t comply and walk exactly where I wanted them too, I chastised them. 

You can’t come to Rome and not see the main sights; The Colosseum, The Pantheon, The Trevi Fountain, and The Roman Forum. You must take a trip to The Vatican and see St. Peter’s Basilica and The Vatican museums (you need at least a full day here) – they’re all historic, incredibly beautiful and definitely worth seeing. But, I think it’s a good thing to get off-the-beaten-track – live the real Rome - visit some of the little neighbourhoods, and then dip into the tourist sights along the way. And, you do also have to take a walk down the Spanish Steps. I always feel like I need to pop on a wispy summer dress and sandals here and sashay down the steps waiting a tall dark handsome Italian to come and sweep me off my feet. It’s one of those places – if you ignore all the designer shops around you – that you feel like you’re stepping back to years gone by. There’s a movie like feel as well as something nostalgic, and for me it feels whimsical and romantic. The view from the top overlooking the Piazza di Spagna and the city is pretty special too – and this gets even better if you walk along Viale della Trinirà dei Monti towards Pincio Hill and Gardens. Each time I made this walk, I didn’t stop taking photos, or videos. Eventually you’re rewarded with a beautiful view over the Piazza del Popolo. And from here you can strike out further to explore Villa Borghese and Villa Medici.

The views from up here are possibly my favourite views of Rome, especially as the sun sets. I visited for my last sunset just before making my way back to the airport.

I consider myself having mastered the Italian art of the passeggiata (yup, that slow, think slow stroll through the streets). Summoned by an invisible force, it’s a tradition that’s hard to resist. I’m still working on perfecting my ‘fare la bella figura’ (make a good impression) style of Italian finesse and dressing the part, but it’s an evening ritual that I love. Watching nonnas catching up on a gossip, seeing couples on that pressure-free date, or young men catching the eye of a pretty young girl, the passeggiata fills a range of social needs, and my evening ritual very quickly became walking along Via di Ripetta, then up Via del Corso, criss-crossing over one of the quaint side streets to walk up the Spanish steps, taking in the panoramic view from above as I walked back towards Piazza del Popolo and then window shopping in the fancy high end designer shops of Via Babuino. And, all l that mileage I’d clocked up also meant, I could treat myself to a gelato and a cone of yup – roasted chestnuts! 

I’m finding it really hard not to list all my favourite streets and piazzas, but here’s a couple more aside from the above that I loved getting lost in and around the most….

Via Del Boschetto, a real treasure trove for vintage and handicraft lovers. If vintage items are your thing, you’ll be sure to find a retro leather handbag or pair of shoes.

Via Del Governo Vecchio, a gorgeous street just off Piazza Navona. I defy anybody to leave this street without having seen something that takes their fancy.

Via Urbana, a relatively short dinky cobble-stone street, but super sweet. It’s where trendy meets classic, and young meets ancient. It’s kinda antiquey and vintage, but cool and hipster at the same time. And, apart from admiring the ivy-coated buildings, you can take an exploring pitstop in one of the cool bars and cafes here. And, Rione Monti. Not exactly a street. It’s more a neighbourhood, but one that’s not as touristy as Piazza Navona or Campo de’ Fiori. It’s got old-time charm, with a side order of beauty, and a great place to grab a coffee, people-watch and take photos…my idea of bliss…

So, the question I asked myself at the end of my 5-day trip to Rome and Florence (read on for my post about my 'Day trip to Florence')…’did I fall in love on my second visit?’ and the answer ‘most definitely YES’. I lived Rome, and I love Rome (I know, so cliché, right?). I was blissfully content walking the streets with my camera for those 5 days. I was blown-away by the magical winters light. I felt safe and comfortable in the city. One of the things that keeps me so tied to Italy is how it feels so frozen in time – albeit the high street shops and designer names. Winter is absolutely beautiful, and whilst Venice is still my number one (and always will be), Rome is now coming up as my number one, minus a teeny bit. It’s a city that I know I’ll visit again and again :-)

Oh, and, I know it’s well known that Italians dress so super stylish, but oh my, the people of Rome – you are by far the most stylish of all Italians that I’ve come across. It’s a place where hardly anyone wears trainers (I love that!), where a guy can wear bright yellow cords and get away with it, where men in trench coats and trilby hats come out to play, where women look so effortlessly glamourous.

Rome Big Bus Tour

Whilst in the Rome, I experienced something I’ve never done before, and that was to take a ‘hop on, hop off’ city bus. You know the kind – double-decker, open topped buses full of people wearing ear plugs with cameras at the ready….and yes, I know I’m all about ‘getting lost’ and ‘not having a real set agenda’ on my travels, but there are times when you’ve not got a huge amount of time to spare and there are sights that you ‘must-see’ – it would be tragic if you returned home from Rome and someone asked ‘did you see The Colosseum”’ and you replied ‘no’ – I think I’d actually cry if someone told me that!

So, when I was offered the chance to hop on one of the Big Bus Tour of Rome, I thought ‘why not’…. And, it opened my eyes up to an alternative way of seeing the city from a different perspective. 

Unperturbed by the rain and a little chill in the air, I joined a handful of other Big Bus visitors and climbed up to the top deck. Heading off on the bus, listening to the commentary and passing by sights like The Colosseum, Villa Borghese, the Aventine Hill, Roman Forum, and The Vatican made me think how spectacular Rome is. Imagine you’ve been around for over 2000 years, and people still come from all over the globe to see and take your photo…it’s what happens to the Pyramids of Giza and The Great Wall of China. Rome has its fair share of modern and trendy shops, bars and cafes, but there are few cities in the world where the sense of history, world changing events, spectacles and political intrigue is so indisputable that your imagination is naturally intrigued. I stopped to take time to listen to the bus commentary – which was really interesting – and I’m not just saying that. The speaker mentioned the ‘passeggiata’ as being a Via del Corso tradition, and that made me smile.   

Here’s a few reasons why I think a Big Bus Tour is worth while…

It’s a great way to see the city in a short space of time, especially if you’re only in a city for a couple of days – plus by purchasing a 24-hour ticket, you’re saving on public transport costs and seeing the city from above ground – rather than being stuck on a public local bus or stuck underground). 

Even though I’d seen the main sights on foot, it was great to see the city from a higher vantage point. The staff on board were also friendly and helpful, offering discounts at other attractions and advice. Also, something I’d totally forgotten until I was reminded on board was that it was the last Sunday of the month, and on this day Rome offers visitors the chance to enter any museum free! Amazing right….as you can imagine, queues are ridiculously long, so ‘note to self for next time or if you’re reading this and planning a trip over the last Sunday’: remember to set an alarm and get up super early…and be prepared for the queues. But, it’s good to know and totally worth it.

As tickets are purchased on a 24 or 48-hour basis, you can choose to either do a complete loop, and then return to a place that takes your fancy, or you can just hop on and off whenever you feel like it. Also, the Big Bus offers various different routes and depending on the ticket you purchase. For example, on a 2-day ticket, you can do one route day one and another route seeing different sights on day 2. 

Navigating your way around a new city can be stressful. Not everyone is confident using the local metro/bus – or able to walk long distances – or wanting to use up valuable data with online maps or phone battery. Hopping on and off a Big Bus Tour leaves the driving to someone else while you learn a little of the history, see the sights and get to sit back and relax.

Palermo's legendary food...

I hope - from my ‘what I did in Palermo’ previous post you – you got a sense of just how much I loved this Sicilian city, and of just how much there is out there to see and enjoy. And, that’s just a small part of the island. I also hope you found it enjoyable and insightful.

Now, let’s talk food! Literally, you can pretty much take a breath in Palermo and you’ll pop on a few pounds in body weight. Food is taken VERY seriously here.

We all know that Italy is well known for its amazing food, but when it comes to food in Palermo, oh.my.gosh, wow! You can’t leave the island without trying out some of the ‘must-try’s’…here’s a few…

I mentioned ‘panica meusa’ (spleen sandwiches) in my previous post…and if spleen sandwiches don’t tickle your fancy. It didn’t mine (although that’s because I’m not a meat eater), then you do have to give the all-round crowd-pleasing arancini (‘little oranges’ in Italian) a try. This street food snack is so delicious…what’s not to like about golden, deep-fried rice balls that are crispy on the outside and all creamy on the inside, and filled with cheese, peas and sometimes minced beef, chicken or ham..or even pistachio pesto! Order two or three, with a side of tangy arrabitata sauce and you can call it a meal. And, yes, they are soooo-good.

Now if you’ve ever set foot inside an Italian bakery or been to an Italian street food fair, you’ve probably sunk your teeth into one – or maybe ten – of this iconic Sicilian pastry, Cannoli. These delicious mouthfuls of joy are at their best when freshly made. A good cannolo should have a crispy shell that crumbles as you bite into it with a light creamy ricotta filling. Hhmmm, those of you who’ve had a good Cannoli, you know right? …

It’s a known fact, I love my gelato, but wow, Sicily takes ice cream to another level with ‘La brioscia col gelato’. This gelato extravagance originated in here Sicily where the gelato is thick and creamy, and…. it’s served in a sweet brioche roll. It’s essentially an ice cream sandwich that you can have for breakfast, or a mid-morning snack, or lunch, or dinner...or anytime really!...Or, if you feel like a change from gelato…try ‘brioche col tuppo’ – literally brioche and granite. Refreshing and comforting at the same time. The combo of sweet soft unctuous bun with the legendary Sicilian sorbet will wake you up, and give you that sweet energy rush. Go for lemon sorbet if you want that real authentic Sicilian experience.

Chestnuts! Roasted and best eaten walking along the street! Yup, other than my gelato fix, I’ve grown addicted to the Italian tradition of heading to one of the chestnuts vendors for a coppo (cone) of ‘caldarroste’ (hot and roasted’ chestnuts. Maybe, it’s because I remember years ago when we were little my grandad would buy chestnuts at Christmas (none of us really liked them back then), or maybe it’s the traditional nostalgic black and white image I have in my head of a couple walking down the street dressed up in their finery stopping to buy a bag of chestnuts on a cold winters evening, or maybe it’s just that they’re warm and comforting. Whatever it is, I loved my daily (maybe even twice daily chestnut-fix). In the cooler months, every street market and on pretty much every street corner in Italy is filled with the chestnut man. You’ll see the white smoke wafting into the crisp evening air. Hot roasted chestnuts are not everybody’s cup of tea, but there’s something cosy and satisfying to me as these nuts come off the hot coals and are tossed into a rolled-up cone of newspaper for you to enjoy as you wander the streets.

Sicilians really love their street food, and ‘panella’ is the queen of Palermo’s street food. Locals buy these tasty fritters in one of the many ‘Sicilain friggitorie’ or ‘panellari’ - these can be little shops or kisosks, or nothing more than a window opening to a small kitchen with a few tables outside. These little street food spots only serve fried food; it’s simple, and yet they’ve become so popular that you’ll find them anywhere in Italy. Anyway, panella…cici (chickpea fritters) are mouthfuls of gently fried golden chickpea polenta. They’re best eaten straight away, when they’re hot and crispy, or you can try popping a handful into a sesame bus, with a squeeze of lemon. Then they become a ‘pene e pannelle (a sandwich) J…

And, once you’ve tried out ‘panella’, also give ‘rascature’ a taste test. Scicilians hate any idea of food going to waste, and ‘rascature’ is basically fritters made from the leftover remains of the ‘panella’ chickpea dough that’s gone a little too dry. Genius!

I bet if you were to walk into a cute nonna’s kitchen, you might be lucky to walk into the smell of freshly fried ‘cassatelle alla Trapanese’. Soft crescents of dough filled with sweet sheep milk, ricotta and chocolate chips! Sprinkle these mouthfuls with icing sugar, and eat when they’re still hot…the chocolate melts into the creamy ricotta...I know right (sounds delicious) and moreish…I did warn you! Sicilians love their food.

And, you’ll find that pistachios flavour pretty much everything here…from gelato and pesto to flavouring pasta dishes. Handy, because my all-time favourite flavour of gelato is pistachio.

It’s hard to stop writing about Sicily’s food – there are so many delicious things to be said about the food here – mainly because there literally are so many street food snacks, sweets and popular Sicilian dishes. The cuisine and the markets are something I will always remember about Palermo, and it’s all thanks to its history (dating back from the Arabs, Greeks to French, Spanish and Normans). I love that it is so diverse and represents a mish-mash of cultures. It’s what makes the island so different – I’m sure that the Catania side of the island is just as interesting and delicious food-wise too…so, maybe, next time :-)

Fez in September...

It was late by the time we reached Fez, and saying goodbye to Taha was quite sad. He’d been a superstar driver and sunset buddy throughout our two days. We did offer him a bed to crash at in our Fez Airbnb, but he refused; he probably wanted the comfort of his own bed after driving so many miles with us. That eight-hour round trip (and on two consecutive days) wasn’t something I would have fancied undertaking, so we have to thank him for the laughter, entertainment, tips, chat and for our safety too.

We were led off into the labyrinth of the medina by our next Airbnb host. I remember thinking ‘oh-my-goodness, we are SO going to get lost here!’. It felt a lot more compact than the medina of Marrakech, and definitely a lot more intense than the calm of Chefchaouen. Arriving in the dark, late at night was a little overwhelming - and maybe not the best time to arrive into a city that’s easy to get lost in - especially when there so many dark hidden alleyways and streets. If you do happen to arrive at night, I would advise you enlist the help of a guide, your hotel or Airbnb host or just ensuring you’ve someone to meet you – especially if you are travelling solo.

Anyway, home for the next couple of nights was amazing. Each of us had a floor to ourselves with our own separate bathroom, and most important of all – a rooftop! I opted for the ground floor bedroom, and with that we went to bed, tired, excited, overloaded with thoughts and more excitement for the next two days.

Whenever I’m away visiting a new place, I’m always up super early – mainly through bubbling excitement and my eagerness to get out explore and take photos, and so the next morning – before the call to prayer – and whilst we waited for breakfast to be made for us, I was up and heading up to check out our rooftop view. It wasn’t long before the guys joined me too, and, we were not disappointed. Looking out onto the houses below us and into the distance where we caught glimpses of minarets, clothes lines and satellite dishes feels silent and peaceful. The maze of streets is shielded by rooftops and mosque towers. You would never know that there’s a maze of hustle, bustle, daily life and around 12,000 alleyways just waiting to be discovered. And, how’s this for a fact, apparently only 30 streets here have names! Crazy, huh! With tummies full of more delicious Moroccan bread, pancakes and all sorts of breakfast treats cooked up by our friendly housekeeper, it was now time to really get lost.

We thought Marrakech was a labyrinth of streets and alleyways all leading into one and another, but oh my, Fez is on another level. It’s totally different to Marrakech. I found it quite compact and for some strange reason, the walls of the city reminded me of being in Italy. I just kept thinking ‘how are we going to get into the heart of this city in only two days?’. My grin from Chefchaouen is making a come-back, and I’m already starting to love this place. The tightly knitted alleyways and streets have you turning around and lost within seconds. Unlike Marrakech, Fez doesn’t really have any real standout landmarks, so we memorise shops, restaurants and the nearest minaret. We amble past donkeys standing patiently, and cats sniffing for scraps of food. We make friends with a jolly chap who emerges cloaked in a white jelleba, we’re intrigued by daily life going on around us, women carry baskets of fresh mint, men sit and sip mint tea; we’re entertained and kept amused…and all the time we take photos.

It was interesting that back in Fez the language (other than Arabic) returned to French, so it was back to shouting out our friendly ‘bonjour’s’ – something that made me happy. I really wish I spoke a little Arabic or at least more French. I mean, English is totally usable, but I wanted to communicate with the old men sitting outside their shops passing the time of day. I wanted to know their story, I wanted to find out what life in the medina was like, did they know every street and alleyway? 

We find ourselves walking past the most beautiful mosque, it was stunning. We couldn’t enter because we’re not Muslim, but we marvelled from the outside. And just like in Marrakech we headed to the university, or Madrassa as it’s known locally. We pretty much had the courtyard to ourselves. Tourist numbers in Fez do not rival those that head to Marrakech, and that’s what makes the city feel so much more authentic. You can breathe without having a huge crowd of tourists surrounding you, and therefore locals are more chilled and not chasing you to buy something from them.

Nipon and Andrew decided they really wanted a beer to take up onto our rooftop for our nightly ritual of chats and star-gazing, so just as sun was setting we hailed – with a little help and the parting of a few dirham - a taxi (sheesh, remembering that taxi scrabble was intense. It was a crazy free-for-all, everybody literally pounces on the first taxi to stop, and they all pretty much bundle in shouting at the driver!)..
Old Fez gave way to New Fez, and you start to see modern buildings and luxury shops; hotels and proper streets with pavements; and a mall with supermarket complete with a separate alcohol section. This made Andrew and Nipon happy. We picked up some groceries and bread, and that evening we had our own little buffet, followed by star gazing on the rooftop…simple pleasures.

The next morning Nipon and I decided to set ourselves a pre-breakfast challenge. From our rooftop, we could see a building in the distance. It didn’t look too far away and it stood out quite distinctly – or so we thought. The challenge was ‘to try and find that building’. Andrew opted for a lie in bed, and so off we went…an hour later we were still walking…could we find that building…. erm, no ha ha, still, it was fun trying..

Other than visiting a leather tannery, we didn’t really have a plan of places to visit whilst we were in the city. And, rather than be tricked into going off with some of the tannery touts that were calling out to us on the streets, we decided it might be easier to do a tour of the city with a tannery included. I have to say our guide wasn’t the most endearing guy, and it was kinda hard work chatting to him – which was so unlike everyone else we’d encountered – but he took us to where we wanted to go. We’d read to be prepared for the smell that would assail us at the tannery. It’s a smell made of a made up of a mixture of ingredients to cure and tan the hides. It’s pretty much cow urine, pigeon poo, quicklime and salt water, but honestly none of us found the smell that offensive. We watched a couple of oriental girls shield their faces with bunches of mint, but to us it wasn’t too bad. Gazing down below us, the pools of red, gold and white dye create a quite a remarkable sight. There are men who tightrope across the circular pools carrying bundles of animal skins, and those that strike the hides with their hands and feet, you can see this is a hard job. To get to this vantage point you have to go through one of the leather shops with all sorts of leather items in varying hides and in all manner of colours using natural ingredients such as pomegranate and turmeric…and a thousand sales men (which is all part of the experience!)

Our guide then led us through the streets, it was interesting to wander through such a real-life market – I don’t think I would ever tire of walking around Fez’s streets, there’s something different going on, on every street, on every corner. There’s a constant display of life. Chicken strut brazenly in cages, absolutely unaware to their fate on the chopping block…cats sashay everywhere greedily gobbling up morsels of scrappy meat which have fallen to the floor, carcasses of animals hang outside shops, the smell of mint and spices hangs in the air, children in their school coats playfully run in and out of people shopping.

We didn’t feel that hungry, but we wanted to sit and get a panoramic view of the city, and so we headed for a restaurant just outside the medina. And, as we walked through the plush interior of the Palais de Fez, I was thinking hhmmmmm this place looks pricey…but no, not at all. Morocco as a whole is cheap to be in, you can feast like a King or Queen here. The decor is enchanting and romantic, all dim lights and pretty cushions. We headed up to the highest terrace, and a table with the best view. Not only was the view a feast for the eyes, the food delivered was the best I’ve eaten in Morocco. Despite not feeling that hungry, we were served little plates of the most delicious salads. Just thinking about the caramelised aubergine with walnuts sprinkled on top, the sweetest tasting carrots, beetroot, tomato and cabbage makes my mouth salivate. We filled up on these tasty mouthfuls of what I’m going to describe as ‘joy’…and then the best couscous (verging-on-legendary) appeared, and oh-my-gosh was it GOOD. Sitting outside with a view of the city, the sun shining down on us was such a happy feeling. I could have eaten every little grain of couscous had my tummy allowed, but we were so full up, and so we asked to take a doggy bag home with us – it really was that good. Come here and you will be one happy traveller! From here we could see the building from the pre-breakfast challenge. None of us are easily defeated, and so we decided to set about and hunt for it again. We blagged our way into several places to get to the roof for a better look, but the building still availed us. It was a fun little mission even if we didn’t succeed…and maybe next time we’ll have better luck!

None of us wanted to go home, I think we’d all fallen head over heels for this city and for Chef, and so that evening we decided to sit at one of the cafés and people watch for a couple of hours all with the accompaniment of mint tea. And, we were kept thoroughly entertained by the locals all trying to get taxis – it was amazing. We were mesmerized by the art of standing in the right place. Literally as soon as a taxi came along everyone rushed for it and bundled into it…only to get out a few seconds later because the driver wasn’t going in their direction, or because he would only take on person – not two. I can only describe it like watching a TV show. There’s a fine knack to nabbing a taxi in Fez, that’s for sure! Maybe next time we’ll give it another go…because Morocco, I and my travel companions are already working out how and when we’re going to get back :-) 

Porto in June...

I've decided to structure this post about Porto about travelling solo, I hope you find it insightful...

Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling with friends, I love being around people and I’ve had some of the most amazing trips with friends like my trips to Morocco and Chicago, but there is something hugely liberating about travelling alone. There’s something satisfying about getting on that plane alone; arriving at your ‘home’ for the duration of your trip, and really taking some time out for yourself.

I love the freedom to do what I want and when. That may appear a little selfish, and I’m not a selfish person, but it’s true and I learn something new about myself every time I travel alone.

When I first realised that if I wanted to see more of the world I was going to have to do it on my own, I was a little terrified of the prospect. I don’t speak any other languages, the idea of travelling to a new place on my own was a scary one. I had no idea what travelling alone would be like…

…fast forward three years and plenty of solo trips later, and I absolutely love it. I would encourage anyone to take that leap and do it at least once. It’s that same old saying ‘if you don’t try, you won’t know’. You may write to tell me that really hated it . Or, you may tell me that you wished you’d tried solo travelling sooner and you absolutely loved it, especially to somewhere like Porto where it feels completely felt safe for a little break. The people were friendly and the city was easy to navigate. It’s small enough to not feel intimidating, and it’s a good city to pick if you do feel like taking a first trip solo.

So, why Porto? I didn’t travel to the city for its wine, nor its churches or its food, I travelled because I’d been to Lisbon the year before and I had an image in my mind of colourful buildings teaming down the hill all the way to the River Douro – an image I wanted to see for myself.

While Porto lacked the wow factor of Lisbon, it’s still a beautiful riverside city with lots of traditional – not too touristy – charm. I had a lovely Airbnb all to myself at the quieter end of Rua Santa Caterina which is the main street that runs through the city. And, it was lovely to have some quiet time after a day of exploring and walking. One thing I found out in Porto is that you have to do a bit of leg work. Even though it’s a fairly small city, many of the streets are up hill. At the end of a day, you do feel like you’ve had a work out, but in a good way.

The location of my Airbnb really was ideal. It’s the main shopping street and home to many cafes including the famous Majestic Café, a place to treat yourself, and considered one of the most glamourous venues in the city.

You can feast your eyes on some spectacular views of the city without having to do any real research. That’s something I found out within my first hour of arriving. I left my Airbnb and took a wander. That feeling of being free; of being somewhere new excites me; I could do exactly what I wanted to, no one knew me and I didn’t know them. I like that feeling. I had nothing but myself, my phone and my camera, and I walked into a beautiful sunset. I came back to Sé Cathedral a few times, but the sunset on my last evening was pretty special.

Like I said, Porto is a small city, and apart from the day I took the tram to Foz do Douro (line 1) a little town with a beach, I walked everywhere. Being able to walk around a new place means you see so much more. I stumbled upon so many cute streets where the light was beautiful early morning and again mid-afternoon, and cafés like the Hungry Biker. Hands down, this became my favourite café - it’s not typical Portuguese, but it was such a lovely place. Light and airy with a sweet healthy menu. I popped by for breakfast and lunch most days. I think I ate the whole menu on my many visits, it was so good. The porridge (which I’ve tried and failed to recreate as good as the Hungry Biker) was so nourishing and it really was delicious, as well as their yogurt with berries and the most yummy toast with some of the tastiest toppings I’ve seriously ever had, plus huge mugs of freshly brewed tea. I always arrived just before it got busy and the bonus was I got to chat with the owners. It’s also very photogenic, highly instagrammable, and it was located on what had to be my favourite street of the city, Sâo Nicolau.

So, what else did I do in Porto? I climbed the 240 steps to the top Clérigos tower, probably the most famous tower in Porto. The view from the top is well worth the climb. I got lost in the brightly painted houses of the Ribeira district, probably the most photographed area of the city. I took photos of the blue and white Azulejo tiles in what’s probably one of the most beautiful train stations, Sao Bento. I ate crumbly gooey Portuguese custard tarts in Mercardo do Bolhão. Markets are always a must visit in any city. I was a little sad as this market felt like it was on its way to extinction. The building of the Mercado is without a doubt traditional, authentic and beautiful. The staircases give a real sense of grandeur, and I couldn’t help but imagine what the market would have been like in its heyday. I imagine it would have been so full of life; market traders would be shouting out to each other, they’d be a riot of colour and a whole heap of tempting smells; old men would stand about gossiping while their wives would be shopping, but sadly so much of the market was desolate. I guess that’s a sign of the times – people are heading to big supermarkets now days. I took a photo of this man at the market the first day I visited, and I noticed he was stood in the same place, at the same time every day that I popped by. He looked so melancholy. I watched him watch the market from the upper level, he smoked a few cigarettes, and then hobbled off. I walked across Porto’s iconic Ponte Luis I bridge to Vila Nova de Gaia where I strolled along the riverfront, gazing back over the river to Porto. I carried on walking all the way to the fishing village of Afurada. It was a long two-hour or so walk, but along the way I stopped to watch river-life roll by, I felt good for the walk and I was lucky enough to have blue skies and sunshine for the entire time.

So, when I was in Lisbon last year, I was recommended the best ice cream in Portugal by a follower on Instagram. I actually don’t have a sweet tooth, but when it comes to ice cream, I’m a sucker for it, and it’s a thing I always have to take a photo of me holding my ice cream, so I had to go and check out Santini, and oh boy, my recommendation was spot on. It was indeed great ice cream, so when in Porto I had to find the Porto Santini :-)

I don’t often meet up with anyone when I’m away. I know lots of my friends meet up with people they follow on Instagram. Quite often I’m only in a city for a long weekend, so time is a factor. But in Porto I met João (@joao.bernardino) - we follow each other on Instagram, and when João asked me to meet really early, I said ‘yes’. It was perfect. I get up early anyway, mornings are beautifully quiet and they’re usually a good time to shoot empty streets and observe the streets as they start to come to life. We actually hoped for a foggy morning (which really excited me), but instead we were treated to golden sunlight. João also updated me on what was about to happen that evening. And, oh wow. Even though I’d been pre-warned by my Airbnb owner and João, I had no idea São João celebrations was as huge; as lively; as crazy; as merry. Even now, I’m finding it hard to describe this festival, and unless you’ve experienced São João in Porto for yourself it’s hard to put it into word. I was told no one does this festival quite like Porto, and I think they were right. The people of Porto know how to party HARD!

It’s like Christmas, New Year, Halloween, Easter, clubbing in Ibiza all at once in every street, in every alleyway, in every little pocket of the city. Midnight sees the inevitable climax of fireworks and illuminations on the river, and the night is far from over. As dawn approaches the celebrations continue well into the next morning. And, as the street clean up commences , I saw people still merry on life and still partying.

People start the build-up to São João several days before the day itself. These celebrations have taken places for centuries, and over that time many traditions have been created. The streets and literally every house is draped with colourful bunting, prizes are awarded for the best decorated Bairros (neighbourhood), people get ready to cook their feasts of grilled sardines and peppers which waft through the air, little pots of herbs are placed in shop windows, bars and cafes open their doors, but these are outnumbered by hastily erected barbecues, stalls selling Superbock beer, Bailaricos (street dances) happen across the city, music fills the air from makeshift stages blaring anything from pop and rock music to traditional fado, people of all ages gather  and dance. 

And, then the hammers appear, along with leeks and the garlic flowers. Yes, you read right. This is a funny tradition, but one that gets everyone laughing and joining in. The tradition is to hit the one you love on the head with a leek or clove of garlic. Over the years, this gentle bop to the head has become a sign of good luck. No one really knows how it all started, but later in the 1960’s a new element was added to this head-banging activity…the inflatable hammer. So, if you do find yourself in Porto on the evening of 23rd June, be prepared for a crazy, but fun experience to get involved in, and don’t be at all surprised if you get boped on the head with an inflatable squeaking hammer.

Here’s another nice thing about travelling solo, you meet random people. One day I walked past a group of women in aprons – they were getting ready for the São João celebrations. They were giggling and jigging along to the street music which was playing on a loud speaker; a couple had already started dancing; another old lady was sat on her doorstep cutting up vegetables; and a cute elderly man was sat close watching his son fire up the grill ready for the evenings celebrations. He looked so content, so I asked if I could take his photo. He smiled and said ‘yes’, and then the family asked me to join them, so I did for a bit. Another time, I sat outside a café drinking a juice. The café was quiet and I spent 20 minutes chatting with the owner who wanted to practice his English. These are moments I really treasure.

These things don’t often happen when you’re not travelling solo. Maybe it’s because your eyes are not as wide open, or you get distracted by whoever you are with. I’m sure it would have been a difference experience. Regardless, we would have had a fun still; we would have stayed out later; drank more; definitely partied at the São João festivities; ate more; laughed and chatted lots, and made memories, but solo travelling for me is ‘Me’ time. It’s me being happy making memories on my own.

My travels this year...

Travelling to new places has the power to transform us – if we let it. Whether we are travelling the world or even in our home town. It can take us to unexpected places; connect us to people we would never dreamed of meeting; eat food we might never have tried had we stayed at home; sample local traditions and cultures, and return home with funny stories, memories and experiences to pass on to others.

To travel can have the most effect on our lives; everything is all a little different the further we go from home. This year I made a promise to myself to travel to a city - where possible -once a month. And yes, I’ve been a lax with writing up my blogs posts and we’re into October already – I’ve tutted and cursed myself for this - but here goes, I’m making another promise to get writing about all the places I’ve travelled to and soon, and also to write up a blog as soon as I return from a city!

Barcelona in December

Last year, at the end of December I took myself off and spent a few days exploring Barcelona. I’ve been to Barcelona before a couple of years ago, but one of the things about this city is that it’s got a great mix of culture, friendly people, art and so much interesting architecture that one trip wouldn’t be enough. It even has easy access to a beach any time you like.

A highlight for me whenever I go away is simply wandering the streets and getting lost. For me it’s how I get to best soak up the atmosphere. I love people watching in any city and seeing as much of the city as I can. I never put any pressure on myself to cram in everything a city has to offer – if I don’t get around to seeing something, I like to think it’s a reason to go back :-)

Wandering and getting lost in the Gothic quarter of the city was a perfect day for me. The hidden streets and interesting architecture are perfect for getting your camera out. You can’t help but to think back to centuries past of the people who walked the same streets. The cobbled lanes and hidden alleyways hold many secrets. The area of El Born and Es Ravel were also quite simply enchanting.

I love experiencing the less touristy aspects of a city, especially if I get to see locals going about their daily life. But, you could not visit Barcelona and not visit some of Gaudi’s sights. Antonio Gaudi is responsible for dreaming up some of the most famous sights in Barcelona. I chose to visit the Sagrada Familia…..It’s incredible from the outside, but to really admire it property, you need to go in. The interior is really stunning with its stained glass windows and light fixtures.

What you can’t fail to notice in Barcelona is that there are so many quirky shops and cool bars – literally, so many bars that you’d need a good month, if not more to get around them all. Dotted all around the Gracia neighbourhood, Barrio Gothic, Ravel and El Born, you’ll find a bar to suit all age and taste and many in between. Gracia is probably one of the trendiest neighbourhoods, and it’s got a great street life vibe. I spend most evenings walking around the different districts, but I’d always end up in Gracia and Plaza del Sol where I’d sit and enjoy an ice cream.

A must visit to the La Boqueira market

Las Ramblas Barcelona, has got to be one of the world’s most famous streets!  In London they say “when a man’s tired of London, he’s tired of living” and I reckon the same could be said about this elaborate and lively boulevard which runs through the heart of Barcelona. It’s usually the first port-of-call for Barcelona tourists and when you see the sheer amount of activity crammed in, you can see why.  Many of Barcelona’s famous landmarks are situated just off Las Rambla, so it’s a great landmark to head to if you find yourself getting lost, and it really is a perfect place to sit and absorb the atmosphere.

One of my favourite places to wander around during both the day and evening was La Boqueira market. The noise, smells, life and colours made this such an interesting market. It’s one of Europe’s largest and most famous food markets, and you can literally spend hours just walking around feasting the senses and watching both locals and tourists as they buy fresh fish and sampling the myriad of dried fruit and tasty morsels that the stall holders hand out. The floors are slippery with melted ice and fruit skins, and the stall holders loud, but this all adds to the experience. You can find all food of all variety, and you can try everything from Catalan sausages, to Jamon, fresh fruit juices, tasty plates of tapas, chocolate and fruits.

My favourite spot to stop and people watch was the famous bar of El Pinotxo. Everyday I came to watch people as they queued up to utter the words “café con leche, por favour” whilst the affable and always smiling friendly owner Juanito – one of the cities best loved figures - decked out in his pressed stripped vest, waistcoat and dapper bow tie gave the thumbs up and moments later coffee was served. Everyone seemed to know Juanito and his cheeky smile. You really do need to get here early morning if you’re thinking of taking a seat to sit and eat. Always busy with locals grabbing their takeaway café con leche and tourists wanting to sit and linger, the food served here no matter the time of day looked and smelled delicious and fresh, and the pastries and coffee were a real morning treat and highly recommended!

The always smiling Juanito at El Pinotxo bar

The beach! Despite it being December and a few days before Christmas, the weather, albeit a torrential downpour on my first day – seriously it rained hard! – was pleasantly agreeable and Barceloneta Beach is a great spot to people watch and walk along the promenade – sunset from here had an almost California vibe to it.

Day trip to Sitges…If you fancy stepping outside of the city for the day, the other great thing about Barcelona is its easy to visit to other interesting day trip options. Whilst I was in Barcelona, I found out a friends’ parents were staying in Sitges, so that sealed the deal on me making the short and easy trip on the train to spend the day with them and I loved it. It’s close enough (a 30 minute train ride), but far enough to feel like you’re visiting a different part of Spain. The first stop was the beach – which is beautiful and long - and standing on the beach in the warm winter sunshine was perfect. We sat in the sun, explored parts of the old town, had a lovely lunch, and then headed to an ice cream parlour on the promenade. All-in-all a pretty perfect day, and I would so go back!

But really, unless you’re here for an extended stay in the city (and lucky you, if you are) it’s impossible to see everything in Barcelona. I didn’t make it to Parc Guell, so my next trip to Barcelona will for sure this famous landmark, and take the trip to Monserrat too!

The beach!

My dream destinations…

This is a difficult one and it changes almost daily as there are so many places I want to visit. Basically, I want to visit everywhere! Here are my top 5 destinations (right now) and in no particular order (although the first one will always remain at the top of my list).

1)    Iran – this country will forever hold a special place in my heart as part of me belongs there. My dad is Iranian and for as long as I can remember it’s somewhere that I really longed to visit. I’m hoping that one day I’ll see where my dad's family live and where he grew up as a little boy. My brother and I have listened to so many of our dad's childhood stories and I long to see them come to life, as well as explore the history, intricate mosques, stunning landscape, and meet the beautifully friendly people. Oh and to pluck pomegranates fresh from the tress just like dad did as a little child and enjoy the delicious Iranian food too!

2)    Jordan – so many things about this country appeal to me. From the architectural detail and the kaleidoscope of colours of the sacred structure at The Red Rose City, Petra to the mountains, monuments and tombs, plus the food, weather, floating in the Dead Sea and yes, sleeping in a Bedouin tent under the stars – it all sounds so magical and incredible, and I want to see it all for myself.

3)    Chefchaouen – oh, this city nestled in Morocco has been on my list for so long. An entire city that’s blue. How could you not fall in love with that! I’m not sure how I’ll be able to stop myself from a) being super excited the whole time I was there and b) taking photos. I might have to buy a few (at least 20) more memory cards just to document this city.

4)    Cuba – for a long time I’ve fantasied about walking down the Malecon of this soulful and quintessential Cuban thoroughfares before being interrupted from my daydream by a happy smiling Cuban – cigar in one hand and a bottle of rum by his feet – surrounded by his friends playing trombones, tubas and trumpets strumming to the beat of a drum. I picture my time filled with days wandering around the busy atmospheric streets, the unmistakable aromas of tropical papaya mixed with tobacco leaf and a permanent smile on my face as I giddily take photo after photo of the happy locals; snapshots of their lives lived out in the open, colourful houses, and of course the classic cars. I can just imagine myself getting caught up in the romanticism of this dynamic and robust culture…oh and the music too!

5)    Tanzania – this county wasn’t on my hit list until I started following a couple of beautiful accounts on Instagram @sam.vox and @stickylittleleaves. Seeing little snippets of daily life unfold, the colours, charm, warmth and dignity of the people. The soft beautiful light and almost every scene caught me immediately. I feel like I’ve fallen in love with the country and the people before I’ve even visited. I’m hoping one day I’ll get there to see it all for myself. Yes, I’d love to go on a safari, enjoy a hot air balloon ride at sunrise and experience the exuberance and colour of the spice island Zanzibar. But, what I’m also massively intrigued by is getting to know the people and to watch life unfold...and to drink tea!

A little bit about me...

I love to travel. I love home, but I’m at my best when I’m travelling to new places, experiencing local cultures and meeting new and interesting people. There’s a beautiful feeling I get when I travel. I feel like I’m a very small part of something much larger and everything is new, exciting and strange. In that moment of walking down a street in a new place, I know I’ve a whole new part of the world to discover. There’s a part of me that doesn’t even know if I’ll even like where I am, but it’s all there, ready for me to either fall head over heels in love, or decide it’s not for me and that’s the beauty of it. I get excited by the smells, the mood, the streets, the people; it’s like I’m a little kid all over again.

Some of my best travels and adventures have been alone. There’s this wonderful sense of freedom being alone in a new city, and for me it’s a chance to just take off, escape with my camera and just get lost – it’s where I feel happy.

I’m not going to lie, my first solo trip to Sorrento in 2015 - a place I absolutely love and I’ve visited before with my mum - was at first a little daunting. Previous to this trip, I’ve always travelled with family or with a friend – but I kid you not, after I’d completed my first solo trip, I’ve never looked back. I fell in love with travelling alone and also appreciating my own company, something I didn’t do before. It's also extremely liberating; I can do what I want and when I want to; eat what I want and to just daydream. If I want to eat ice-cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I can and no one but myself is there to stop me!

Of course, there are times when it does get a little lonely, but these days when you’ve the world of social media and a mobile device at your fingertips, you’re never really that alone.