Tomatoes, sangria & more tomatoes. La Tomantina

I was up before the sun for my bus to Valencia so managed to catch up on some sleep on my way there. On arrival I realised my great plan to meet Mish at 'the train station' was probably the worst plan I'd formed on the trip. Number one- my bus was late and I was already past our agreed meeting time. Two- what station is 'the' station. 3- how do I get there? And 4- if I even manage to get to 'the' station, where am I meeting mish?as my feeling of panic grew, I got on a bus which was allegedly going to 'the' station, I took that as a positive sign that maybe there only was one. When I walked up to the station with low hopes a random couple started waving at me, I first I was weirded out, and then saw Mishs backpack in front of them, this must have been Mish's friends from Contiki! I waved back and as they apprehensively inquired, Georgie? I knew I'd hit the jackpot and mish running towards me was further confirmation. Thankfully, crisis averted! On arrival to our campsite, my final promise in Madrid, of no sangria came back to bite me, as I was handed an overflowing cup within moments of entering. I threw my promise out the window and felt secretly happy I'd picked such a good organisation for La Tomantina, and as my. Abs were promptly picked up and carried to my tent, the happiness has blossomed into a bug grin. Yes the tents were small but we were going to have the best time ever, even if we were camping! Again, another stupid thing to say.

The crazy girls from Venice/Ios were also staying here, that should have been another warning sign, but I ignored it. We made the most of the unlimited sangria, and were wasted at 4pm, and already struggling to get it down, another sign. But I was drunk, the cafe had hot chips and the sun was out, why wouldn't I be happy? We were headed off to the water and wine fight that night, I knew nothing about it but a kind stoke worker had told me there was a club hired, and it was an all out water and wine fight. I have to admit I was a little disappointed, I thought it was more local, but still, it sounded like heaps of fun. We boarded the bus at 9.30 after peaking twice already. It was freezing cold, but a jumper was much too valuable to forsake in the water and wine fray so we had no choice but to brave it. It seemed clear on arrival no one bad any clue what was going on, workers or us. There was a bull fight which was optional and the fight would start after that. We opted not to watch the brutal fight and were alternatively left on the streets to freeze with no money, and no clue what was happening. As time passed, I was sober, hungry and shivering, so I headed to a cafe which increased my hunger pains but warmed me up. 3 hours later after both Mish and Em had slept, I was so over it and ready for bed. Stoke staff were at a bar getting drunk and appeared to have no idea what was happening or no care, while the rest of us wo were instructed we wouldn't need cash were left waiting until the 2.30am bus departure. Jack, frustrated and bored went exploring and came back within 5 minutes saying he had found the fight and we were about to miss it. We fled stoke and opted to actually participate in what we had come for, and I'm glad we did, others the next day had completely missed it! It's name pretty much covers it. Walk through the streets from 1-3am and get drenched with water poured on you from rooftops and balconies, and warm back up again with unlimited free wine at the end of the town route. Unfortunately stokes wise planning meant we got all the water part, but managed to just miss out on the wine, or indulge in the wine, and be abandoned in a small town somewhere in Spain, we had no idea where we were. Taking the smart option we gave up on the wine, and began to run through the streets, desperately yelling out stoke, realising we had no idea where the bus was, and we hadn't been given any directions. Out of complete chance we saw a stoke T-shirt and chased it down and an extremely drunk colleague walked us to the bus.  

The bus driver got lost, I don't know if it was poor directions (that's my suspicion) or something else, but the half an hour drive there, was an hour and a half back. S as you can imagine, the 6am wake up call after about 2 hours sleep wasn't welcome. 'Wake up wake up, time for la tomantina' they cs,led while hammering loudly on the top of you tents. In a hurried panic I threw on my clothes and headed to the breakfast tent where the food was revolting, I was forced to drink a sangria and were we sat in th darkness for an hour and a half until it was ACTUALLY time to leave. The lead up to the fight was a mixed bag of excitement, seeing lots of familiar faces, shivering in the rain, and anger that the locals were still spraying high pressure, freezing cold hoses all over us, in the middle of a heavy downpour, as if we needed to be more wet. The fight itself, once a GIRL finally made it to the top of e pole and ripped down the ham, was admittedly well worth all of Stokes nonsense. It was definitely more crowded than I imagined but apart from that it lived up to every dream. For an hour, every 15 minutes huge dump trucks rolled through the streets, filled to the brim with tomatoes and crazy locals who would piff as many tomatoes as hard as they could at you, before dumping the remainder off the back and leaving us to go absolute crazy. You were ankle deep in a tomato sludge river, you were covered head to toe in chunks of tomato, clothes streaked with a red tinge, and any hope of keeping your eyes tomato free was quickly crushed, even if you wore goggles. An hour later exhausted and covered, I marched out in an extremely cramped tomato army. As we waded through the sea of sludge which smelt putrid and now reached shin level, you couldn't help but laugh ad you looked around. Every girl would need about 5 washes of her hair to rinse out the tomato, every boy had less skin colour visible than tomato, and it was clear not one garment of clothing would be saved from this festival. Locals kindly gathered on the streets with their hoses to wash us down but seemed to get a sick pleasure after pelting us with tomatoes, to also nearly blow us away with their extremely high pressure hoses. I made my way back to the bus and to my surprise was allowed straight on, dripping wet and still half covered in tomato, I felt truly sorry for whoever had the clean that bus because the stench sitting inside for 15 minutes was overwhelming. I sprinted to the shower off the bus and managed to be sixth place in line but already there was no hot water and you had to push the button down continuously to get any water, remove your hand for a second and the flow would stop. As you can imagine, it was a difficult process when I really needed two hands to massage all the filth out of my head, with water ideally washing it out simultaneously. But beggars can't be choosers, so I left the sheer with my body clean, and the majority of tomato out of my hair.. At least it didn't smell as bad. I finally bumped into the elusive Thommo who I'd been hunting for the entire two days, who had struggled with flights, delays, and had missed the big event. I felt so sorry for him so even though it was ring, miserable weather and the last thing I felt like was drinking, I poured myself a sangria and helped him drown his sorrows. Things escalated quickly from that first sip, and Thommo was the drunkest and most outgoing I had ever seen him be. The wheel of misfortune was being spun continuously and in the end both Thommo and I were punished for our gamble. It seemed as though everyone was content to continue getting drunk around the campsite which I was more than happy to do, but Thommo was keen fr the afterparty and after his awful day, I couldn't leave him so I hesitant,y left and got on the bus to what undoubtedly was the worst afterparty in history. Firstly, there was only about 40 people there in an enormous club, secondly an acoustics band was playing- not exactly party vibes, and the free drinks ended at 12, but there was no bus home until 3.30. Stoke had done it again. We decided to rebel against their cruel regime and commenced the hunt for food, which soon turned into a hunt to get back. After 2.5 hours of walking in circles around Valencia I had never wanted to be anywhere so badly as that horrible afterparty. We seemed to be doomed, and we received 'no comprendez' on every corner. Thommo came up with all sorts of wild plans of sleeping at the station for two hours, catching the train back at 6am and then somehow walking the 7k to our campsite by 9am, on no sleep. I was delirious, cold, hungry and so so tired, so I caved and decided money was irrelevant, and no matter what it cost me, I would get to bed quickly. I hailed the next cab and we were off and 40 euro later I was back in my cold and uncomfortable tent.

After telling tales of our miserable night, and eating an even more miserable breakfast, it was time to leave. Stoke memories may not have been so pleasant, but they certainly made for good banter, as every single person on the hour long train had something different to complain about. It's always the interesting moments that make for interesting stories. Right? 

My Spanish introduction- Madrid!

I awoke to a bang which signalled to me not only had a slept through my entire flight, but i was now on Spanish soil. Hola madrid! A battle though the sweltering tube led me to 360 hostel, and a room of screaming girls, whose excitement merely turned out to be a case of mistake identity. Nevertheless it was enough to get conversation started, and in the end form a friendship group that would last my 4 nights in Madrid. It seemed they too had just checked their bank balances and realised when there were kitchen facilities available, you had to make the most of it. When the actual friends arrived, there was mor screaming, this time warranted, and as a group we headed to the supermarket to stock up on staples. 

As we descended out the escalators to the ground level supermarket, the screaming theme continued as I let out an involuntary squeak out excitement at the 3 entire walls labelled sin gluten. It was hot, it had gluten free food by the tonne, don't ask me how anyone could give this place a bad wrap. With my arms full with bread, rice cakes, pasta, sauce, veggies, vodka, ham and cheese, the girls and I headed straight for the kitchen to cook up feasts.. Or penne with arrabiatta sauce and salami, and chicken burritos with lettuce and tomato, not exactly gourmet. It was time for predrinks, and these girls knew how to pour, after 3 glasses, I was struggling to keep the room in focus, not an ideal situation to be in before leaving the hostel kitchen. We joined in on a pub crawl with our fellow hostel mates, and after an hour of power at the first bar (unlimited beer/sangria), arriving at an empty club at 2am was a clear sign to call it quits and go home, via Burger King of course. I see, to have a knack for making friends who are just as obsessed with food as me, or maybe it's just a Europe thing? I'm not sure.

Even though we had a relatively early night, we all got off to a slow start and opted for the 2pm walking tour, rather than 10am. In the meantime, I strolled the streets of Madrid solo and soaked up the warmth with open arms after the cooler English weather. All reviews I had received of Madrid were quite negative and I was assured 4 nights would be more than enough, but as I turned one corner and was met with an incredible park, palace, and fountain, and around the next, a gorgeous 60 year old opera singer busking on a street corner, I had already begun to fall in love. I returned to the hostel and the girls and we set off on our walking tour. Our guide was dry interactive and I even got to be part of a role play of Spanish history, in which I managed to score the role of the worst King of Spain in all history.. Awesome. He showed us some great secrets of Madrid, the best tapas street, a nunnery which sold cookies, a food market!!! And a 24 hour chocolate shop. After re-reading that I realised I only mentioned the food stops, he did also show us sights of historical and cultural importance, but clearly food is my main interest and I subconsciously blocked anything actually important out, oops. Whilst on the tour, they tried (and succeeded) to sell their other tour to us, a Tapas tour. We signed on for that evening and after a little siesta, it was time to eat! The first tapas bar was my sort of place, nearly every dish was potato based, fried potatoes, mashed potatoes,  potato salad, omelette, Bravas- I was happy. In half an hour we got a glass of sangria and about 15 different dishes, all you can eat until the clock struck nine.. Needless to say I made the most of it. Be two held the promise of unlimited cider and picturing a cold crisp Rekordelig I power walked at the front of the group. Cider in Spain I quickly learnt, is nothing remotely like cider in Australia. 'Sidra' is in fact a revolting, bitter, sour, over fermented alcohol, which must be poured from a height into the glass hitting the side to avoid upsetting your stomach. Surely if it even has the potential to make you ill, it shouldn't be drunk, however it seems clever after spending longer in Spain (yes I'm writing this two weeks later), sidra is a specialty and held in high accord amongst all Spaniards, as far as I'm concerned, BLARGH! Even though the sidra was free, it was so vile I w happy to spent cash on jugs of sangria, just to get the taste out of my mouth. Soon we were drunk again and back on the pub crawl for th second night in a row. This time, we were prepared. The previous night we had paid 10 euro for an hour of power, and we were given a plastic glass, hold onto yor glass and get free drinks. So all we needed was a glass, and as soon as I walked in, I was on the prowl. Within 5 minutes, I'd found the golden cup (well dirty plastic actually) and I was filling up glass after glass for free, success! As we moved to the next bar we saw others holding plastic cups, surely it couldn't be the trick everywhere? But it was our lucky night and as we went on another cup pinching fest, it was free drinks all around and my wallet was very happy. Our next stop was less focused on drinking, instead the main activity was ,y favourite, dancing! Salsa time!! Those few Sundays at the night cat seems invaluable as the locals were amazed at my talent, while the others uttered a lot of sorry's for squishing toes left, right and centre. Mind you, I was counting 1,2,3 out loud, but this either went unnoticed, or they were just lying about my 'talent' to get a dance. Still, as far I was concerned (sangria strongly influencing me) I was a salsa champion, and hot, sweaty and exhausted I stumbled home at 5.30am and fell straight to sleep.

Sunday meant hangovers and markets, so I sucked it up and headed off to face the crowds at Madrid's flea market. Nothing took my fancy but the girls stocked up on cheap sunnies and jewellery. I felt as though I was sleeping on ,y feet and I only woke up when I heard food, and off to the food market we went. I was so excited after walking past on the tour but on closer inspection it was rather pricey for rather small portions, eg 1 euro for one olive. Not ideal, but I hunted out a bargain, octopus paella and a vegetable skewer for 6 euro, much to the envy of the others who emptied their pockets for olives and calamari. The effects of our late night finally seemed to hit everyone, and after an extremely brief attempt at shopping, we all had crashed so much we got the lift to ground floor in Zara and basically crawled up the stairs to bed for a siesta. I felt so much better after a sleep and a shower so e headed off for a nice tapas farewell dinner as the girls left the next morning. The food was delicious, and my love for patatas bravas grew considerably with my second taste test. We headed up to a temple noted for its incredible sunsets, and just like churches, all sunsets now look the same and fail to really 'wow' me, I have become too desensitised after watching them night after night, but the golden ball dropping through the pink sky admittedly was a nice finish, to a lovely evening. 

Solo again I had one direction, the gluten free bakery. We had walked past it on our way to the Tapas tour and even the memory of the sign gave me shivers. On entry I was so excited and overwhelmed I took ten photos and five minutes before I even made my fist order of a carrot cupcake. This was the first of many orders as I got the wifi password, set up shop for the morning, and over strawberry cheesecake booked my trip to India at the end of November. To celebrate this, I thought a third treat was in order, and third time lucky, the banana bread was mind blowing! After 4 hours inside, I thought it was probably appropriate to leave while I still had a strand of dignity left and headed to the Prato Museum for a dose of culture. Another 4 hours passed and my brain and feet were equally exhausted from looking through the 5 exhibits, and thousands of paintings and sculptures. The next job on the list for the day was a much needed waxing session, which proved to be extremely interesting. Not one person in the salon could speak English, and I knew no Spanish, so after some awkward role playing and nods of apparent understanding I was booked in and waited nervously, for what I hoped would be a successful visit. I entered the entirely mirrored room which was a confronting start, and got ready for business. The awkward signalling and role playing continued,  but my charades skills clearly got me somewhere as I walked out a happy girl! Some very interesting positions and moments, but an experience I will certainly not forget! I finally took Viki's advice and refilled my stomach at her fave spot, Wok to Walk, a stirfry bar which did not disappoint. Rice noodles, a heap of veggies and satay sauce was exactly what the doctor ordered, y-u-m! Madrid's palace had an enormous line so being a dumb tourist I joined the line to see what the fuss was about, but luckily as a dumb EU passport holding tourist, it was free. In the end, the wait was definitely worthwhile as the Palace was the most exorbitant and extravagant gold covered buildings I had ever seen and on building size alone, was the largest palace in Europe. In case I hadn't eaten enough yet, I cooked up the last of my pasta and this time added rocket to make it super healthy. Followed by 5 glasses of free sangria, and in possession of a lot of hostel recommendations I was sure to forget, I once again stumbled to bed and vowed to never drink sangria again. What a stupid thing to say. 

Lovely Leicester with my lovely grandparents!

I was so excited to see them and have a relaxing week in the countryside, so typically the train ride felt like a lifetime. I got off the train and hunted around trying to find the exit, and when I turned back there they were on the platform- Oma and Opa! They had managed to bargain with the ticket inspector to be allowed on to the platform to meet me, and Opa immediately offered to take one of my bags, I warned him they were heavy, but he insisted. By the time we arrived at the car he looked puffed and I think he regretted his offer, I wasn't joking, it was a heavy bag! The car trip through Leicester to their little village of Great Glen brought back so many memories, I had visited them many more times than Dads side of the family in London, so I even recognised the turn off to the village. Their house, just like Nan's was identical to how I remembered it, even the garden remained absolutely immaculate. I think they worried I may get bored in my week there, Great Glen isn't exactly a hub of activity, but I assured them I was looking forward to a rest and some quality time with them. So I fit into their daily routine, and with a few extra day trips, I wasn't bored once and was sad to leave at the end of another quick week.

My body clock finally regained some form of normalcy, and by the end of the week I was waking up naturally at 7.30 and heading down to meet Oma and Opa who were already sitting patiently waiting for me to have breakfast. They are the epitome of cute, polite, perfect English grandparents! Cereal came first, then toast (only the best brand, finally a gluten free companion!) and then it was shower time. Once we had all completed our shift in the bathroom, it was time for a stroll down to the post office to get Opas daily paper. When I was younger this was my favourite pastime spent in great glen, because every trip to the post office inevitably resulted in a packet of chocolate buttons or stars- still the best chocolate in the world as far as I'm concerned! Sadly, but probably for the best I had told Oma about the tightness of every item of clothing I had so she kept me treat free every posty visit. Most days we headed into the nearest town of Oadby for a coffee for hem and a chai for me, and were often met by my uncle Richard, so that was always a highlight. From there we would go shopping or do some dd jobs before heading home to prepare the main meal of the day, lunch! Uncle Richard is a chef and Oma used to help him run his catering business so I was spoiled as usual to some delicious meals- salmon and vegetables, a roast, curry, chicken and baked potatoes, and a few sneaky meals out too. Afternoons were Facebook time, crossword time, harry potter time,snuggles on the couch time, uncle Richard would come and hang out and right on cue at 4.30 Opa would go downstairs and make us tea and always bring up a few gluten free custard cream biscuits, my favourites. 6pm was news time and after that it was time for supper, toast, eggs, sandwiches, pasta, something small and yummy, before watching movies or tv programs, another hot drink at 9.30 and bed at 10. Back to normal life and a normal routine, in the best company possible, it was exactly what I needed.

To make sure I didn't get restless, Oma and Opa planned a few day trips for me, one to a historic house in the countryside, another to Rutnam water a huge park/lake and a solo day trip into the city to see a movie. Without fail, every visit to Oma and Opa means seeing a part of England's housing history, and with their help I have visited nearly every castle, house or palace throughout England, and am always kept well informed by Opa's seemingly endless knowledge of history and facts. It was nice to keep up this tradition, and this house had some truly outside pieces of art and collectibles, apparently one of the most valuable collections in Britain! It was nice to get into the city of Leicester and hear some noise,take the plunge and go to the movies by myself, consider it ticked off the bucket list, dad a,ways does this at home and I admit I constantly bag him for it, surprisingly it was a lovely experience. Me, the movie and my snacks, with no one to distract me or steal my food it was quite nice, but I don't think ill be rushing to do it at home.

After my two weeks in England, especially the last week with Oma and Opa, the  sad reality of the distance of Australia hit me hard, and the contemplative thought of moving to Englamd for a while seemed more appealing than ever. Every goodbye seemed so importantly after all it was 6 years since I had said it previously. It was so nice to have family around, I think a lot of people truly take it for granted, I wish I had the luxury to spend time with Oma and Opa even once a year, so fingers crossed I can make it back to England much quicker this time. After lots of tears and cuddles, I was off on my own again a bit disheartened, and not really looking forward to returning to backpacker life after two weeks of luxury, but too bad, next stop, Madrid!

                                  

A quick trip to Norwich!

Back on the train, it was time for a Norwich reunion with my besties from Budapest. I think back in June when I promised Norwich sleepovers, they were skeptical but as I pulled into Norwich station and plodded out with my bags like a pack horse, they realised I was serious. Dressed to impress in trackies, runners and a tshirt, the girls decided to do an immediate lunch, drinks, tour day. Watch out Norwich, Hot Georgie is here! Our lunch out stop, the pub, had clearly seen a lot worse fashion in its time so I sat down feeling glam and indulged in a pub and Georgie sized enormous portion of chicken tikka masala with a cider. These girls truly were my perfect match, and soon after 2 more ciders, cake and a pot of tea, the gossip didn't stop, they clearly loved to eat just like me and our 4 day friendship proved to be a good example of how well we clicked. We opted for a night in and feast, so we got some strawberries and chocolate (soul mates) and after quickly meeting Mims adorable new puppy, I was settled in at Anna's house and best friends with her whole family. A big day trip was planned for the next day to Cromer! I had actually been here twice before, but they were so excited to take me to the 'seaside' and had planned it all so I hardly had the heart to tell them. I think my acting was convincing enough and I oohed and aahed at the seaside, pier, and kids crab watching, which still was lovely, even for the third time. Cheekily, I got some chips from the fish and chip shop, which was a first, the cross contamination risk  usually forces me out, but I was determined to try traditional English fish and chips. With a side of mushy peas, covered in vinegar and tomato sauce the chips were absolutely delicious, crispy outside, soft inside, dripping in fat and oil, the disgustingly unhealthy but perfect chip. After a day of binging we skipped dinner, got ready and after straightening my hair for the first time in 3 months, I felt like a supermodel and was ready to hit the town.  Norwich nightlife was a little different to th clubs of London, and not really my style, but the company made up for it. Shots shots and more shots later I had reached my limit of doof doof music with no lyrics, and 17 year old chavs wasted in celebration that A levels were over, so we headed home.

In case my saturated fat intake hadn't been high enough in my short visit to Noriwch, th girls decided to finish me off with one last traditioanl, and artery clogging meal- the Fry up. This was breakfast, but filled me until dinner, and that is saying something. Literally everything was fried, including the bread, which was then laden with eggs, bacon, baked beans, fries and sausages. So much grease and fat, but it would be rude not to finish it, wouldn't it? After scraping my plate and packing up my bags once again, it was already time to leave after what felt like 5 minutes with the girls, sadly I said my farewell and took the last leg of my train journey to Leicester for a week with Oma and Opa

London calling

I was already back to where I started before even reaching the half way point of my trip, but this time, I was met with familiar faces as I burst through the arrival gates, Nan & Aunty Theresa. The ride back to St Albans was filled with chit chat and a lot of traffic, but finally we arrived at Nan's little bungalow, my home for the next 5 days. Despite being 6 years since my last visit here, it was exactly as I remembered, the only changes a few photograph updates of new babies, family I had never met! After an extremely long and luxurious shower I felt cleaner than I had in months and was ready for dinner with my cousins. We pulled up to the Thai restaurant and I couldn't help but smile, I had been craving Asian food for months, they must have sensed it, after all we are family! Green curry was delicious, again not as good as home, but it definitely hit the spot. Emma informed me over our feast of all our family plans for the short time I was there and it looked like I would be a very busy girl, and for once actually see every member of the family (some I haven't seen since '97!) 

A brisk walk with Nan started the morning, and I was hardly surprised to see she was still as fit as ever, only 3 years earlier, she could still do the splits! Emma soon came to pick me up and we headed into town for our girls day out! All the things I had been craving seemed to be on every corner, chai lattes, gluten free pesto pasta, flourless cake, new clothes, I was in heaven! Before we knew it, we had been in London for 7 hours which literally flew by, and with brand new outfits we headed home to get ready! Unfortunately, cousin chris had already treated himself to a beer or 20 by the time we were ready to go and was incommunicado, so we headed to Shoreditch with no clue where to meet him, dressed in a singlet and skirt in 10 degree weather #loveenglishsummer. Finally he checked his phone and we jumped in a black cab straight to Concrete to avoid the cold, only to be told no one else could get in. We were both so frustrated so I summoned my best puppy eyes and my worst bogan accent, and managed to convince the bouncer I'd flown all the way from Aus just to enter this club, and we were in. I noticed an extremely tall boy and an extremely drunk cousin sloshing his drink over the floor and realised I'd found them, Chris and Charlie, his best friend I'd shown around in Melbourne. Chris' state sent Emma home in anger but earned me about 10 free drinks and a good dancing partner so I wasn't complaining! Somehow in our intoxicated state we made it back to Charlie's and I awoke to Chris saying, What happened to Georgie? Clearly having no recollection I was sleeping on the sofa in the next room! Lucky I didn't get lost or I may still be partying in inner London with no way home! 

Sleepy and thankfully looking significantly less hungover than Chris it was time for Sunday afternoon tea with the entire family, including my cousins six children, who I had never met! Gluten free goodies were in abundance and I think everyone thought I had been starving as I filled plate after plate, and Nan even gave me some money for my trip, clearly thinking I was broke and hungry (they don't know that I'm always hungry). It was so surreal looking around at the group of 15 people filling the back garden and realising these were all my family, considering its usually just the three musketeers, Mum, Pal & I at home, it was strange but lovely suddenly feeling like part of a big happy family. When we got home, even though I was full to the brim, Nan decided to teach me how to make her famous pasta sauce for dinner, and I was not about to turn down that valuable lesson. We made a pot each, mine without poisonous onions, and with Nan guiding me through I had soon made my own incredible tomato sauce, yummmm!! 

Today was designated for bonding time with Nan & I, but she seemed so busy with th non existent housework she pulled from nowhere, I felt like an imposition delaying her from her washing, scrubbing, cleaning, sewing or whatever job she could think of! In the end she took a break from chores and took me to her favourite hang out, the garden centre at the end of the road. It was a nice garden centre but I have no idea how she could come here so regularly, I mean, it's just plants. But we had a coffee each and browsed the various plants while I smiled and nodded, gardening is definitely not my thing. We sat down in the evening and watched the daily soap routine, Emmerdale, Eastenders and Coronation street and ate giant bowls of pasta and cups of tea.

My final day in London ended up being another action packed day. After a big morning running around on the Tube I was back in Leyton, picking up my bag I left with Audrey and Jake. After a quick chat with Jake I was back whizzing under London and only just made it back in time for lunch with Aunty Roz, and my cousins, Tina and Angela. This is th family I know the least so it was nice to get to know them a bit more and that they made an effort to come and spend time with me, I hadn't seen Angela since I was 5 so I've changed quite a bit since then! From here I headed home to pack up all my freshly washed clothes (thanks Nan), dinner with nan th farewell drinks at the pub with th cousins. My time in London flew by so quickly, I wish I had longer there. After so much time travelling, especially alone, it was so nice to feel part of a family and at home.

Turkish Delight

It is said Turkey represents the meeting of East and West, and Istanbul's bustling streets depict exactly this. Thousands of traditionally dressed Muslims donning burkas and hijabs, Asians, Christians, and everything in between, all walking alongside past mosques and churches alike. This blend of cultures works harmoniously and nearly every afternoon I parked myself in the luscious park between the Blue Mosque, the main mosque of Istanbul where thousands take prayer each day, and the Hagia Sophia, a recently converted museum which throughout the ages has been both a Christian church and a mosque, as dominance and ownership changed hands.  This strange combination is one of a kind, and creates a certain charm, which made me fall in love. 

Before arriving I knew next to nothing about Turkey, and the only attraction I knew of was the Grand Bazaar so Zoe and I headed straight there to weave the hundreds of intricate lanes hosting stalls selling all sorts of goods- lanterns, scarfs, hand painted ceramics, clothes, Turkish food and so much more. Honestly, if you could navigate your way through the crowds and turns, I'm sure you could find anything you needed. The items on our list though were souvenirs and presents, which we had been very lazy in buying so far (sorry mum!) I stumbled across a few goodies but I won't reveal them here, shipping presents home will probably be even slower than me writing this. After a good shop, it was time for another major landmark that even I had heard of, the Blue Mosque. Unlike other countries *Vatican* Istanbul wants you to appreciate its culture and main place of worship so they are prepared with a wardrobe of appropriate clothing including a headscarf, and a lesson on how to fashion it properly. The interior was incredible but wasn't as 'Blue' as the name led me to believe. Regardless Zoe and I sat down and soaked in the atmosphere quietly, and watched as many locals undertook their prayer ritual as though no one was watching. Unbeknownst to us, we had arrived in Turkey at the perfect time. The final few days of Ramadan were taking places, so we were thrust into the heart of Islam and all the celebrations associated with it. Every night, families would gather in my favourite park and at the call to prayer, as the sun set, they would break their fast with a huge family feast. It was really special to watch and Zoe and I even packed a picnic one night and joined in, waiting until darkness to eat, which seemed to be appreciated as we received a lot of smiles and nods of what I assumed to appreciation. Following the feasts, festivals begun. Each night brought something new, a night market, marching bands, dance performances, all of which brought enormous crowds, cheering, singing and applauding voluminously. 

Our evenings were filled with Ramadan festivities and while the very disciplined Muslims starved during the day, Zoe and I continued to eat (fasting seems physically impossible to me, I was in awe of these people) and explore the many other sights Istanbul had to offer. We hiked to the other side of the park to check out the Haghia Sophia which still preserved relics of both Christian and Muslim in habitation of the building, huge Islam symbols directly underneath mosaics of Christ presented an interesting juxtaposition. We delved under the streets of this ancient city and discovered the secret gem, the Basilica Cistern which dated back to the 1100s and used to provide water to the city. Now, it's importance is slightly reduced however, it does play host to a fun stall in which you can dress in traditional Turkish sultan outfits and get pictures, obviously, Zoe and I were dressed up and posing within minutes of entry. Topkapi Palace was another incredibly old site and extremely well preserved. The facades were polar opposites of the historic homes I have visited throughout England. Intricate mosaic tile patterns of all colours of the rainbow covered the walls and floors of every room, and the jewel collections of enormous rubies, sapphires and emeralds were astounding. One night we skipped our usual picnic in the park and headed to the theatre for a night of traditional dancing. Within two hours we were taken on a dancing tour through all regions of Turkey, and got to experience all sorts of fantastic music and costumes, as well as belly dancing, which I had been most looking forward to. The dancing did not disappoint but surprisingly, the music stole the show, the clarinet player was the most captivating and talented musician I think I have ever witnessed. Considering my usual musical taste is Top 40 and 90s pop, this was not what I expected to amaze me, but I was left applauding speechlessly, this guy could play! 

As usual, once our cultural appetites had been satisfied, the more urgent appetite for food was reawakened, and to the Spice Market we went. A slight misnomer, as spices were one of three main goods sold here, spices, tea and most importantly (as far as I was concerned), Turkish delight. You might think, 'ah, Turkish delight, I've had that before, pink squares of sweet jelly covered in icing sugar, nothing special' and until arriving at these markets, I would have agreed with you. But true Turkish delight is so much more than that. Of course, the traditional Turkish delight we all know is available at every stand, in all colours imaginable, but even the shop vendors cast this to one side, and direct you to the good stuff, and boy is it good. Cranberry covered pomegranate flavoured Turkish delight, with pistachios dispersed through the centre, was my personal favourite. They were covered in rose petals, saffron, nuts, berries, coconut, marshmallow, they were filled with hundreds of flavours, rose water, pomegranate, strawberry, cherry, orange, coffee, chocolate, nougat, and filled with mixed nuts, plain jelly, honey, fruits or marshmallow. And that description is only scraping the surface. As you stroll through pondering which flavour to indulge in, your stomach is kept happy with hundreds of samples from every single store all trying to entice you in. The smell is incredible as the heaped piles of varying spices and teas give off irresistible and varied aromas, so your nose, mouth and stomach are constantly pleased whilst wandering through. This market is without a doubt responsible for some of my favourite flavours of the trip, and my recent 5kg weight gain (whoops!)

Turkey taught me a new more relaxed style of backpacking and culture appreciation which I will take with me. A traditional Turkish breakfast started the day, followed by sightseeing, an afternoon relax in the park people watching, a trip to the spice market to treat my tastebuds, back to the park to break our fast (or feast further) and then join in festivities before an early night in bed. Travelling at its finest, maximum eating, cultural appreciation, fun and for once, a craved break from alcohol. I will definitely be back to Istanbul one day, I finally understand the hype about Turkey, although I can't pinpoint it, it's got something very  unique and special going on.