A year of travel... the first six months

For those of you who know us, the title of this post may not be surprising at all given that we are generally known as the Globetrotters amongst our family and circle of friends, but this year was different. It didn't actually start out this way, but a belated idea for a New Years' Resolution turned it into a different kind of travel year. I call it a New Years' Resolution, but as it was made in the second half of January, I'm not sure it technically counts, but as I also fancy myself a bit of rebel, I rule that it counts. So nah.

So, what is the resolution? I need to go back a step before I can fully explain how it came to be. But to take that step back means writing a blog post that is still too difficult at the moment, is 10 months in the making so far, whirling around in my head because of all the posts I've ever written, I need to get that one right. And I can't right now, so in very brief summary, the resolution was borne out of the very sudden and unexpected passing of our lovely Steve, Dave's dad.

Skip to the awful days and weeks after it happened and I just wanted to wrap Dave in cotton wool for a bit. The only way I knew to do that was to take him away. Away from all the horribleness and give him some kind of reprieve. Away from the sudden, stark darkness at the end of the garden that still occasionally upsets us. Just away. The funeral was, after what seemed like an eternity, planned for the 13th February which coincidentally, in a way that has become strangely par for the course for us, is the anniversary of when Dave and I met 11 years ago. It somehow seemed fitting in a really absurd way. I had a feeling that all the waiting was bound to result in a bit of a Butterfly Effect and so decided to whisk my mourning man and our pup away to the New Forest for a weekend. What better place to revive and refresh the senses than a freezing cold South Downs National Park in the middle of Winter, right?

And so my New Years' Resolution was born... to get away from home for at least one weekend a month. It didn't need to be far, nor expensive, but just away. It also helped that we already had a few trips lined up, so my job was pretty much half done for me, to be fair. We have got to October and I realise now how crazy this idea was, even for us, but in true 'us' style, it also seems perfectly in keeping with who we are as a couple. Another reason for this to be the year for travel presented itself way further down the line, so can't genuinely be included as a motivation, however as I said before... rebel. But more about that later.


January


So, back to January and everything else aside, in terms of my NYR, January had sorted itself as we'd been in South Africa for Christmas and into the new year.

Month one:
Weekends away: 1
Weekend away tally: 1


February


February's trip was meant to be a long weekend in Portugal, however under the circumstances, we postponed - not cancelled - as some companies are insensitive enough not to allow you to cancel for a full refund, despite the production of a death certificate. C'est la vie. And so to the New Forest, which is an easy 90-minute drive from home and meant no need to arrange any leave from work - another plus. So we jumped in the car as soon as I got home from work on the Friday evening and we were off. We stayed in a gorgeous dog-friendly B&B really close to the seafront and harbour. Lucy doesn't muck about and made herself right at home.

Month two:
Weekends away: 1
Weekend away tally: 2


March


My sister travels quite often for work and March found her in Barcelona... coincidentally, it is somewhere that has always been on our travel list, but always got relegated in favour of somewhere else deemed more exciting at the time. But this presented the perfect opportunity to finally hop across to Catalonia and see what all the fuss was about.

Well, as it happens, the rain in Spain doesn't always stick to the plains. It rains in Barcelona. A lot. Who knew, huh? So it was a soggy weekend, but a fun one all the same, spending some time with the sibling and meeting her awesome manager who lives in the most perfectly named place on the planet: Pleasanton in California. Sounds like something out of a Disney film.

The one thing I was looking very forward to on this trip was sampling the cuisine - I love a Mediterranean-style diet and really wanted proper tapas as the only tapas I've ever had comes on a "Buy 3 for 2" special at Tesco. After walking past and inspecting the menus of a few restaurants for dinner on the Friday night, we settled on one. As it happens, not a good one. You live and learn and the company more than made up for the less than mediocre food.

Breakfast at the hotel was plentiful and when faced with a plentiful breakfast buffet, I like to think that my stomach is bottomless. This is a true story - I eat about 7 times more from a breakfast buffet than I would on any ordinary day of my life. No idea how as 2 weetabix on a normal day keeps me going all the way through to lunch, but something about the luxury of having a chocolate mini muffin immediately after croissants filled with Nutella makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. But my point in all of this is that eating an enormous breakfast when we're travelling generally keeps us going until dinner time, so you know... cost saving. Because Dave has to visit Hard Rock Cafe in every city we go to that has one, we found ourselves cowering from the torrential downpour at the Hard Rock bar at 2pm, in the hour-long queue for a table waiting for the buzzy bleeper thing to start buzzing. We eventually ate at around 4pm and, because HRC serves supersized portions as standard, I declared myself full until sometime in 2020. And so with no need for dinner, another tapas opportunity escaped me. Sigh.

We left on the Sunday with no tapas opportunity presenting itself before we had to make our way to the airport, so I left Barcelona tapas-less and, quite frankly, disappointed at my tapas-less state of affairs. I did get some absolutely delicious freshly squeezed coconut and pineapple smoothies though, so I guess that counts for something.

Month three:
Weekends away: 1
Weekends away tally: 3


April


April was another local getaway to the coast, again with the pup, who laps up any opportunity for a run on the beach and Swanage did not disappoint.

It was rainy, grey and a bazillion degrees below zero in the wind, but we were away from home and I just kept having to remind myself that that was the point. It happily afforded me the opportunity to catch up with a high school friend who now lives down that way, which was just an fab way to while away 3 really weather-miserable hours. We cosied inside a cafe for a meal and a chat and then gave the pups a run on the beach. I have to say, despite the weather, I was disappointed to find the ice cream shop closed for the season.

Month four:
Weekends away: 1
Weekends away tally: 4


May


May was a pretty special trip, both because of the place we went, but also because of how it was made possible. Steve would almost certainly have worried sick about our choice of destination, but I sent a little thanks skywards to him every day that I saw Dave smile while we were there.

Jordan.

Wow. I had never really thought about Jordan before - in fact, I still probably couldn't confidently point it out on a map - but this was a Bucket List destination for Dave. His eyes lit up at every turn and he just absorbed the experience into every fibre of his being. To say we loved Jordan would be a mild understatement and, like Bosnia a number of years ago, I was so completely blindsided by it all. What an amazing country with fantastically friendly people and just breath-taking scenery.

We started out in the desert at a Bedouin Camp which is not for the faint-hearted nor anyone with a delicate disposition. I can describe the baseline experience with one word: flies. However, flying-poop-carriers-landing-on-your-food-constantly aside, the desert was a pretty special experience. It was about a billion degrees with no luxuries like aircon, or even a breeze, but there was something pretty special about being out in the middle of nowhere with just a couple of Bedouins, the stars, moon and a lifetime supply of sand to keep you company. No light pollution. No sound at all. Except if you count the eleventy thousand flies and mozzies. As I said... not for the faint-hearted.

The part that Dave was most looking forward to was Petra and it didn't disappoint. His face was like a kid whose birthday and Christmas had come at the same time, with a surprise visit from the Easter Bunny. What a place.

It's an entire day, again spent in what feels like a billion degrees, walking, trekking and glugging on any form of liquid you can get your hands on like your life depends on it (we spent £40 on drinks alone that day!), but all totally worth it in the end. When we planned this trip, some friends told us that we just HAD to trek to the Monastery, which is located at the top of the mountain, up over 900 very ancient steps. There's something you need to know about me... I don't hike. I don't run, jump, hike or do anything even remotely resembling strenuous exercise. The constant debate I have with myself when faced with more than 1 flight of stairs is whether I really want what's at the top or not. So the thought of climbing over 900 steps UP a mountain was just not even an option. Dave was always going to go on his own, it wasn't even a topic for conversation. So when we got all the way through Petra to the end of the site and, as it happens, the base of the aforementioned mountain, I was fully expecting to sit down in the shade and while away 2 hours whilst Dave exerted energy which, quite frankly, seemed too precious to me to exert. But... I found myself tagging along, just as moral support. I was not hugely impressed with everyone who opted to mount themselves on the back of a poor, desperately tired donkey to make that climb. Shame on you all! I heard one lady muttering 'poor donkey' whilst on the back of the poor thing.... go figure. At 200 steps I was still tagging along as I was still at 500. What was going on?! At about 876 though, that was me, I was done. I told Dave to go on and collect my body on the way back down and to make sure I was buried with chocolate. We stopped for a freshly squeezed fruit juice - lemon for Dave, orange for me - and asked the vendor how much longer it was to the Monastery, which I hoped to God after all of this actually existed. 10 minutes, he said. We'd been climbing for 35 at that point. So I now had to decide whether I believed this juicing aficionado or whether I wanted to hang out with the flies. I chose to stick with the tagging along and we eventually made it to see this...

My first words, and I quote, were "Is that it??" I mean, nobody even lives there?! For goodness' sake, I'd have at the very least expected a marching band and bloody cocktails with umbrellas and everything for all that effort! But instead we got flies. But admittedly, after cooling down as much as you can in Jordan in 45-degree heat after having trekked up a veritable Everest, I finally looked around and appreciated the view. My fitbit told me we'd walked nearly 18,000 steps to that point and the bloody hilarious* thing is that we had no option but to reverse the journey on foot.

*heart-stopping realisation

But first... I grabbed a perfect photo op of my man taking in his ultimate Bucket List destination.

The next stop was the Dead Sea, which was relaxing, but one of those things in life that you can see once and cross it off the list, although it was admittedly a very relaxing end to our trip. You're told to cover yourself in the mud and leave it on for 15 minutes for the detox fairies and elves to do their work. Well... I don't know about anyone else, but the second the mud was on was the same second that my internal oven switched itself to the 230 degrees with fan setting and I started baking. From the inside out. We barely had enough time to take this photo before running into the sea to get it off as quickly as possible. We look happy, huh? Yeah... boiling internal organs must release endorphins.

So... Dead Sea done and dusted, it was time to hit the hotel pool bar. Aaaaand... relax!

Jordan definitely gets our vote, it was a fantastic trip made even more amazing by seeing Dave that happy for the first time in 5 months. It's definitely one for the 'must go back' list.

Month five:
Weekends away: 1
Weekends away tally: 5


June


Every June we make a trip over to the Isle of Wight music festival - it's become somewhat of a tradition and in recent years, our group has grown. Last year, my sister and brother-in-law added a few days in the UK onto their big European adventure to join us, which was so much fun. As it happens, they liked it so much, that another trip all the way from SA was planned this year to attend with us - not as part of a European adventure this time, although my sister was in between business trips in this hemisphere, which made it a no brainer! After years of trying to convince them, Dave's cousins also joined us, so it was a bit of a family affair. Flower crown in place, off we went. From Sheryl Crow to Liam Gallagher, Depeche Mode to The Killers, Nile Rodgers & Chic to Manic Street Preachers... it was a fantastic weekend of music just as it is every year. And this year, the weather played ball and was lovely and warm with no need for the waterproofs at all. There is always, however, the need for a second mortgage to afford any of the food and drink, but that's how they get you... they ensure that the beer is flowing freely enough to avoid anyone noticing the rapid depletion of their bank balances until they've arrived back on the mainland.

Month six:
Weekends away: 1
Weekends away tally: 6

And that, dear readers, brings me to the end of the first half of the year, resolution intact (which I can't quite believe). I'm not sure about anyone else, but I don't remember a single resolution that I've ever been able to keep, so let's hope the rest of the year pans out!

And to answer the two most common questions I get:

Yes I have a job.
No we haven't won the lottery.

For those of you who were subscribed to it, I know I'm 21 months late on updating The Travel Blog that Never Was... I'll resurrect and update it as soon as I can!