After staying for three days at The Excalibur, which FYI is a gigantic and fantastically tacky castle-themed hotel and casino at one end of the South Las Vegas Boulevard, the plan was to venture in the vague direction of the Grand Canyon and continue from there, moving onwards across America in a joyous semi-pioneering fashion. What we didn’t plan for is suddenly having access to our money stopped (owing to simultaneous problems with our cards), giving us no option but to stay in Vegas indefinitely, and no longer in the giant fake castle, but instead at an equally cool-looking but potentially cockroach-infested motel. This, my friends, is the harsh reality of long-term travel: it doesn’t always go to plan and it definitely isn’t what it always seems on instagram. No way, José. Continue reading
The Canary Islands, so named because the islanders apparently used to worship dogs (Canary/canine, get it?) are a little cluster of Spanish islands situated in the Atlantic Ocean, closer to the coast of Morocco than Spain or anywhere else in Europe. They’ve only been officially Spanish since the 1400s, and before then they were inhabited by actual native locals, giant lizards and giant rats, and other endemic species of which exact kind I’m not actually sure. All I do know for definite is that there is far more to this place the beachfront resorts that first meet the eye: a whole ginormous range of landscapes, climates and people. By the way pals, at this stage I should let you know, the reason this is titled a ‘brief’ guide is because it’s only about the islands that I’ve actually visited. Otherwise I might as well copy and paste off the internet about places I have no actual knowledge of, and that would be no fun for you and definitely no fun whatsoever for me. So unfortunately Fuerteventura and La Gomera will have to wait, but here’s a very tiny bit of what the rest have to offer.
Something a little different today, pals. Because today is the day I share with you my experience of one of the many many jobs I have undertaken in my life; the job in question being a waitress for an events company in central London. There are dozens of companies like this one in the city centre, renting out staff to wait at high-end events like balls, award ceremonies and corporate events, as well as the more interesting birthday parties of billionaires and royal dinners at various palaces across the capital. The company sends a text message out to all the staff on their books, the staff members agree or disagree to work a shift, and BOOM, next thing you know one hundred waiters and waitresses are at the back door of The O2 Arena dressed in black and white with Sensible Footwear ready to serve whoever needs serving. Magic. All sorts of people worked for this company; newcomers to London from Eastern Europe and beyond, university students, actors who are between jobs as they say, a few older gents who’d been made redundant and therefore had to find a job doing whatever they could in order to pay the bills. All round, a brilliant collection of people. You never know who you’re going to work with, when you’re going to be working from one day to the next, or whether someone is leaving the company, but it definitely can make for some interesting and mind-boggling situations.
For some reason which I can no longer actually quite put my finger on, once upon a time I decided it would be a fantastic idea to head off to Greece, for a grand total of seventeen glorious days. I would be spending some time solo, some time cruising around with my good pal Rachel, and some time visiting another absolute legend- my other good pal Erin, who moved out there a while ago. Rachel and I had also been promised ‘THREE KEYS’ in Lefkada (one for a house, one for a boat and one for a car), several times, by a Greek chap we worked with; the elusive THREE KEYS never materialised but maybe that’s for the best. (In case you’re wondering, THREE KEYS has to be written in capitals because that’s exactly how he said it, with a good dose of spit thrown in for luck.) So here we go pals: after a failed attempt at sleeping in Gatwick airport (was awoken by sniffer dogs), and one night in an Athens hostel, resulting in oversleeping by two hours and almost missing my second flight, our story begins….on the tiny and very insta-famous island of Santorini. Continue reading
It was quite a surprise to be in Porto, I’ll tell you that for free. I was supposed to have left for home a few days earlier so when our ship docked at the port of Leixões, I made my way as early as possible to the closest tram station to enjoy a grand day out in a city I knew hardly anything about. When I say I knew hardly anything I mean: basically NOTHING AT ALL. I didn’t even know how to buy a tram ticket to be honest, so spent a good five minutes holding up the queue fumbling with all my change and trying to work out which ticket I needed (not even knowing the direction the city is in is, let’s face it, a poor start). But you guys, I only went and bloody made it there didn’t I!? And what a beautiful city it is, too. Located in Northern Portugal, Porto is Lisbon’s sleepier sister, still filled with nooks and crannies but with a slightly less urban feel. Despite my prior lack of knowledge about this beautiful city, I’m proud to say that with limited time I still managed to learn some stories and get a taste of what awesomeness Portugal’s second city has to offer. Continue reading
The first time we sailed into Geirangerfjord, it was the end of April. I awoke pretty darn tootin’ early, threw on what I considered to be warm clothes, and made my way up to the bow of the ship (that’s the front, pals) in order to witness the marvel of the mountains. It truly was marvellous. There was an eerie mist surrounding us- very Pirates of the Caribbean, you know the opening scene with the little girl singing?- with the surrounding mountains just visible beneath, looming up to the sky on either side of us. They were still covered in snow, giving the whole experience a tinge of being in a mildly sinister yet epic black and white film from decades ago, with the ship calmly cutting through the calm dark water below us. Crazy. We passed the Seven Sisters waterfall; seven icy cascades of water plunging down from the top of the snow-capped peak…it was pretty full on AWESOME. Also pretty full on cold, so I needed to retreat and reappear with several more layers. As we rounded a bend in the fjord, the shroud of mist lifted slightly and we could see the tiny village of Geiranger at the dead end full steam ahead. Over the next few months we returned to the village every ten days, seeing it slowly change as the snow almost entirely melted, blossom appeared on the trees, and then the full bloom of Summer, before it started to retreat into Autumn again. So here, in all its glory, is what I have to say (or write,even) about Geiranger. Continue reading
Las Vegas is both hilarious and insanely amazing…GOOD. LORD! If I had to write a tag line for this city it would be ‘like Disneyland for gamblers and alcoholics.’ And although I wouldn’t describe myself as either of those it was to my own astonishment that I was fully in my element when we arrived by airplane one March morning. After leaving the cool air of San Francisco we flew over mountains and desert, finally coming in to land over the bizarre turrets of our castle-shaped hotel- The Excalibur- and he Luxor’s pyramid and Sphinx. I never thought about how surreal the idea of all these massive Disneyland-esque buildings in the middle of the desert really is. One of the most surreal sights I’ve ever seen, actually. I’m still laughing. Nothing but rock for miles and miles, then suddenly- BAM- here’s a giant castle, the Statue of Liberty, and the Eiffel Tower smack bang in the middle of No-Man’s Land. WHAT. A. LAUGH. There’s something about Vegas that just makes you want to throw all your money in the air and have a party in it wearing an outfit made entirely of feathers and diamonds. But, what if you do not have a pile of cold hard cash and a tacky outfit to prance about in!? Fear not, pals. I’m here to help. Continue reading
Let’s just get down to it straightaway: Trondheim is a proper old city, with strong Viking roots and Medieval heritage galore. Dating back to 997AD (you see- PROPER OLD), the City Formerly Known As Nidaros is Norway’s ex-capital and where the country’s kings have been crowned for centuries now. The fact that the majority of the city was once made of wood meant that unfortunately the whole place has burned to the ground many many times (awkward to say the least), but nowadays although there are many beaut wooden warehouses lining the river, the streets have been redesigned with wide open boulevards to prevent those fires spreading so darn tooting quickly. A wise move, I’d say. My time in Trondheim spanned several months in Summer, although in all honesty the weather was most similar to a rainy day in March on most of the days that I visited the city. Maybe this is a silly thing to note- it is in Norway, after all- but so many people have been taken aback by this information that I feel it’s worthy of a mention. Continue reading
My pre-conceived idea of Madeira was that although in pictures it seems very beautiful, it’s also an island for mostly rich, retired people who want somewhere warm to hang out but also somewhere classier than your usual island getaway. (I.e. The Lanzarotes and Tenerifes of this area). Turns out, there is so much more to Madeira than I once thought!! (Although in terms of classiness, this definitely isn’t your Brits-Abroad, fry-ups and no integration with the locals type situation) This Portuguese island is to the West of the coast of Africa and slightly North of the Spanish Canary Islands, and it’s capital, Funchal, is where we docked every seven days. Although the rest of the island is packed full of things to do and places to see, I stuck to the city of Funchal (so called after the abundance of wild fennel that was growing there many years ago when settlers first arrived on the island) for the duration of my time, so here are the most awesome things that I found to do whilst there. Continue reading
After a very brief stay in the HI Downtown San Francisco branch, we decided it was about time we upped sticks and moved on…to a different, cheaper hostel, in the very same city. Also part of the Hostelling International family, because as we had payed for membership we decided we might as well make use of it, know what I’m saying?
In comparison to the cloud of inner-city smell in the Downtown area (you know, the subtle aroma of bin juice mixed with car exhaust, urine and mouldy food from the back of restaurants), approaching the Fisherman’s Wharf hostel was practically like stepping into the countryside! This hostel is located in an old army barracks which is technically situated within one of the USA’s smallest National Parks, Fort Mason, on the cliffs overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, and surrounded by greenery. Quite frankly; it was just bloody lovely! Continue reading