Lake Loving in Lago D'Orta, Italy

Italy is one of the best places on the planet. From the food to the wine to the architecture and history, it's beauty is unparalleled. I sometimes forget that there's an entire country beyond the village where my grandparents grew up. Despite the many summers I spent roaming the Sicilian countryside with my cousins, I've only made it to the mainland once before, so when an invitation to a family wedding on of the lakes arrived, it was more than welcome (and also my mum was maid of honour and my cousin was a bridesmaid).

Situated about an hours drive from Milan and 45 minutes from the Swiss boarder lies Lago d'Orta San Giulio (Lake Orta in English). It's easy to see why so may in love with the lakes of north Italy, set to a backdrop of the snow tipped Alps, the town is post card pretty. 

Exploring the town didn't take long, but you could easily spend days hopping from restaurant to restaurant, eating and drinking. Favourites included Ristorante Venus situated right on the water front. The tables outside are glorious in the sunshine and a bottle of prosecco comes in at a whopping €17. As well as the wedding, whilst away we also celebrated my mum's 50th and completely took over a little restaurant a short walk from the main square called Pizzeria La Campagna. The food is amazing. Large pizzas, flavourful pasta dishes and plenty of seafood made this place so good, we went twice. The staff are also unbelievably friendly, and didn't mind too much when we returned a pepper grinder that had 'accidentally' left the restaurant with us...

The lake even boasts a Michelin star restaurant that, although we didn't make it to, everyone raves about. Well worth checking out if you're in town for a special occasion (even if that occasion is simply that you are not in the office).

The wedding reception was held at the beautiful Hotel San Rocco. Views of the lake, killer espresso martinis and bridal suit like nothing I've ever seen (I'm 22 and single, it's the only bridal suit I've ever seen) made it a dream wedding location. The staff also couldn't be faulted and the menu for the dinner was mouth watering... And that's coming from a vegetarian at an Italian wedding. For a little luxury, this is the place to stay. In the summer months the pool overlooking the lake would completely clog my Instagram feed and I'd live in the little outdoor garden. 

We stayed closer to the main square in a quirky hotel called Hotel Aracoeli. The rooms were kitsch, with open plan shower/bedroom and little bathrooms with a toilet and sink for more privacy. Admittedly, this wasn't so great. I was sharing a room with my brother and cousin, so we were relegated to the balcony or bathroom whenever one of the others wanted to shower, but in the grand scheme of things it wasn't a huge issue. The rooms themselves were spacious, the beds were extremely comfortable and the balconies over look the square which is perfect if, like me, you love people watching. Breakfast at the Aracoeli is a foodie dream come true. Cakes, strudels, cheeses, yogurts, cereals, Italian coffee, eggs, meats, breads and fruits were available fresh every single morning. Porridge at my desk in my London office will simply never be able to compete!  

In terms of things to do besides eat and drink, there isn't a lot. Walks around the lake are strongly recommended, but there isn't a lot in the means of nightlife (although I would make an educated guess that in the summer, the bars are open much later). You can get a boat over to Isla San Guilio or further afield to a smaller town about an hour across the lake. Similarly, hiring a car at the airport is easy and Milan is only an hours drive away. The town does offer plenty of cute antique and clothes shops you can browse through and visiting Luca at 'Il Buongastio' is a must. This authentic food and drink shops sells everything from cheese and meats to 100 year old balsamic vinegar (the 15 year old one is bomb) to Italian liquors. Pop in for tasters of parmigiano, drops if balsamic goodness and shots of grappa and hazelnut liquor, leave with gifts for people who don't even need presents (or a couple of treats for yourself).

As a long weekend getaway or a week long stint in the summer, Lake Orta is offically a Hayley Approved* place to visit. Since it isn't as well known as some of the other lakes *cough* Como *cough* being there won't cost you an arm and leg. 

Bravisima.

-xo

PS: Hugest congratulations to the lovely Pav and Paul who tied the knot. Thank you so, so much for allowing me to be a part of your special day. It was beautiful. 

International Women's Day 2016

In case you've been off the internet (or under a rock), today is International Women's Day. I'm a big fan of International Women's Day. I think it's important. It's important the way Black History Month and Pride are important. It gives us a chance to look back and celebrate how far we've come, whilst understanding how far we still have to go. And it provides perfect opportunity to inspire & celebrate the women around us. Which frankly, we don't do enough.

If you're still not sold that today is important, here's a few facts for you.
* 50% of all sexual assault world wide happens to girls under the age of 15

• 66 million girls are out of school globally.
• Women make up two thirds of the illiterate adult population.
• In 2013 the statistic stood that if all women were allowed access to contraception, 100,000 deaths due to child birth could be prevent each year. As it is, 800 women die daily due to child birth.
• Women are also more likely to be slut shamed and victim blamed than our male counterparts. 

So yes, to me, IWD is a big deal. And it should be. It's been inspiring seeing how the world reacted today. From brands to celebrities to charities. I was expecting lots more angry 'meninisits'* and trolls, screaming across the web 'Oh how unfair and unjust! A day JUST FOR WOMEN. How dare they? What do they think, that they're vaginas make them special? Please. Somebody think of the men!' But, from what I could see, there were less hate than last year. Or perhaps it just felt that way, because maybe, just maybe, the wider world is starting to see that whilst equality has come far, were still not quite there.

You needn't look any further than the comments on Instagram and Twitter to see the gap in equality. Love her, loathe her or nothing-at-all her, Kim Kardashian's selfies (with, or more recently, without) clothes never fail to cause a stir. Following yesterday's  post and a whole host of people protesting how she simply MUST put her clothes back on, Kim responded how only Kim could. She posted another snap of her undeniably rocking body sans any clothing with the caption '#liberated'. Good for you, Kimmy K. Zac Efron and The Rock are currently filming the new Baywatch movie, and are (quite rightly) proudly posting pics of their buffer-than-usual physiques. I'm yet to see a single person tell them to pop their clothes back on, so why was everyone so quick to shout at Kim? Is it because she's a mother? David Beckham is father and yet the world swiftly swoons whenever he removes his clothes, so please don't play the parental card with me.

Up until last year, women's breasts were treated as a commodity in the countries biggest selling family newspaper. I know to some, I may come across hypocritical, supporting a campaign to get the naked female body out of the paper but supporting Mrs Kardashian-West as she takes over the world naked selfie at a time. What a human being chooses to do with their body is their own provocative. I stand by the fact that what I disliked about Page 3 was the waste which the female form was used. Day in and day out The Sun used the female body to help it sell, whilst doing very little to represent women fairly across the board. When Jessica Ennis won gold at the London only pics, she didn't get as much page space as that day's Page 3 girl. It spoke volumes about what women are worth in our press. When Kim Kardashian gets her kit off, it's different. I see a women who is control of her image and the image of the women around her. She chooses when and how. She reclaims herself from the Kim Kardashian who got famous because someone decided to leak her sextape without her consent (which, FYI, counts as sexual harassment and possibly as a hate crime). It's subtle, but it's different.

The recent press that singer Kesha and sports newscaster Erin Andrews have been receiving is another nod to how much more we have to gain. Kesha is locked into recording contract with the guy who abused her, thanks to a judge ruling in favour of Sony. Meanwhile, Erin has had to fight tooth and nail for her compensation payout of $55 million following footage secretly recorded of her naked being leaked. In Erin's case, it was even suggested in court that the footage 'didn't exactly damage her career' and in Kesha's... We can't even talk about the mountain of things that are wrong with the ruling of Kesha's case. My heart fucking breaks.

There are still countries where being born a girl is seen as a dishonour and where marriage is more important than education. We still have (predominantly male) governments making decisions for female bodies. Contraception can be harder to get hold of than cocaine** and abortions are still illegal in certain countries. In some places, a woman will still be denied her right to an abortion even if the pregnancy was caused by rape. There are no laws like that for the male body.

I live in 21st century Britain, I cannot imagine having to pay for my pill, although my tampons are taxed for being a 'luxury' and I'm relatively sure only a man would decide that tampons are luxurious. Nor can I imagine being told I have to give birth to a child conceived out of what undoubtedly, would be the worst and most harrowing experience of my life. My injustices are having my arse grabbed by a drunk bloke in a nightclub or being cat called in the street. It's the message my parents engrained into me but not into my brother, that says walking alone at night is absolutely never ok. I am thankful everyday that I was allowed the same education to my male peers. I fight for feminism (or 'equality' as some would call it) because females else where are still not on the same playing field. But it doesn't mean that we have equality here in UK. The inequalities are different and vary on the scale of severity, but they are inequalities all the same.

International women's day does not mean that for the other 364/5 (since it is a leap year) days of the year, these issues go away. Nor does it mean that are issues only worth addressing annually. Instead, IWD is here to highlight, educate and empower. It's here to connect us.

For one day out of the year, women aren't pitted against each other. We're stronger when we work together, ladies.

And before anybody asks, International Men's Day is on November 19th.

-xo
*I question if we can really count meninism as a thing.
**Probably

India 2016: Yoga Loving

It feels as though recently, yoga has become a thing for the girls of Instagram. Contorting their bodies into figures of eight, whilst balancing on their heads, perfectly filtered with Valencia. But of course, it's so much more than that. With a history spanning across centuries and religions, these days yoga is, to me at least, respite from modern life.

When I was away last year, I decided that in 2016 I wanted to visit India. Mum had been on about doing a yoga retreat for her 50th for ages and had always said I could tag along. We looked at a few  different ones. Ones in Ibiza and Italy and Bali, but couldn't settle on one we really liked. Then a client handed mum a card for a yoga retreat in Kerala, South India and before we could say 'Om' it was booked.

Run by the fabulous Elisa Williams and set in stunning north Kerala, our group of 21 took over the whole resort. Naturally, we were a little bit apprehensive as we set off. Was it going to be a week of head stands and wheels (neither of which I can do) and would there be food that was actually edible? Would it be all green smoothies and power juices? Would we get the dreaded Dheli belly? Mum and I had no idea what to expect.

As with most things, we really shouldn't have worried. Our group ranged from complete beginners to the uber bendy, and Elisa was able to create fun, dynamic classes that offered something for us all.  One of the ladies had recently undergone surgery following an accident last year, but she still took part in almost all of the classes, adapting where necessary. We also shouldn't have worried about the food. It's been amazing. Freshly made curries and dals, grilled veg and plenty of fish (for mum, not me), plus a Keralan breakfast is something to be marvelled at. A large pancake type of thing made with rice flour (called a 'Dorsa' but I've definitely spelt that wrong) topped with a fried egg and chillies... Foolishly, I thought I'd lose weight this trip. I haven't stepped on scales yet, but I would assume I was wrong.

Our first class would start at around 8am and last for approximately two and a half hours. Each day was different and (with a little assistance) I managed both a wheel and headstand by the final practice. These classes started slow and built up before coming to a cooling down period of rest at the end. Each person was catered for. Elisa always clearly explained the various levels that you could take each pose to and encouraged us to listen to our bodies. You could be practising for 15 years and still find that on some days, your body will scream at you to keep it simple. That's life.

We would the have the days to ourselves, to venture into the nearby towns or make the most of the pool and beach, before our evening classes began at 6pm. These were much less physical, but required a more mental kind of strength. I rapidly discovered that meditation was absolutely NOT something that came to me naturally and initially branded these sessions as 'dull'. Obviouly, they were in no way dull, I just have an untrained mind. Elisa would take us through guided meditation, which by the end of the week I was much better at following. The evening sessions also included plenty of 'yin' style poses (Yin is a type of yoga where poses are held for much longer, allowing the body to work into the connective tissues and fascias around the body). I'll be honest, I would float out of evening classes and could have gone straight to bed following them.  I suddenly understand why so many people rave about the benefits of meditation to ones mental health. There's nothing like feeling like your own oasis of calm.

More people should do yoga. More people should meditate. More people should do things just beyond their comfort zones. I honestly thought I'd hate yoga before I tried it. Mum had been on at me for ages to join her at one of the classes at the studio where she went, but I always argued against it. What would someone who talks as much as me do with a hour's worth of silence?

Little did I know. Yoga offered me a chance to silence my racing mind, space to work out answers to questions that puzzled me; a place to retreat to when life gets too much.

I am leaving Kerala inspired, humbled and absolutely dreading my commute come Tuesday...

But at least I'll have my mat.

-xo

New Adventures Begin

Back in October, I bagged myself a job. Not just any job, but my dream job doing social media for a big charity in London. Honestly? I didn't actually think I would get it. I applied on a whim because I felt so shit having come back from South America and hated waitressing... In my head, I was half way to Australia on my working holiday visa.

So when the call came and they offered my the job, apart from being utterly gobsmacked and totally excited, I couldn't help but suddenly feel a little stuck. How was I ever going to quench my travel thirst whilst holding down a full time job? Was this it now? Was I to live out the rest of my days, mindlessly commuting in and out of London? Because, frankly, I'd rather die (or maybe something less dramatic) than battle my commute for the next 40 years.

No, no. Instead, to show off my new found move into adulthood and a proper 9-5, I agreed to go on as many holidays as my annual leave would allow.

Which explains why I am currently writing this from the porch of a beachside bungalow, in Kerala, India. As an early birthday celebration for herself, my mum has brought me with her on a yoga retreat. I cannot wait to throw myself into intensive yoga, lounging in the sun and exploring as much of this beautiful region as I possibly can. Stay tuned.

Also coming up in 2016: Vegas, Italy and Rhodes. Who said a real job was a ball and chain?

-xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: San Diego, Las Vegas and Sacramento

My final week saw me leave behind the chaotic beauty of Latin America and head north for a whistle stop tour of the USA's West Coast.

It has to be said, after 4 months of arriving to new places on my own, walking through arrivals at LAX and having my two childhood best friends (plus one of my surrogate Mothers and Nan) waiting for me was a pretty special feeling. Following a three hour drive, and a shower and many girly squeals of excitement dinner and cocktails at The Cheesecake Factory was the best way to kick start my final week.

On the Thursday, we headed to Pacific Beach for a day in the sun. Having been in Costa Rica for a month, my tan was coming along nicely, but my friends aren't as passionate about sunbathing as I am. So tanning quickly turned into tacos and margaritas at Fat Fish Cantina Grill. We were there during happy hour, so fish tacos were only $2 and a house margarita was something like $3.50. This set up us nicely to move on to Baja Beach Club, where Mega Margarita's were $16.50 and contained 4 margaritas in each one. We drunk three each, ended up making friends with an entire family and woke up as living proof that tequila is the original dirty, rotten scoundrel.


We were, however, unable to bask in our hangovers for too long though, as it was time for the drive to Las Vegas!
I love Vegas. We went at 16 whilst staying with Chelsea, and I was crazy about it then. Now, at 22, Vegas held so many more possibilities and I was going to get to experience them with my oldest friends in the universe. Doubly exciting was the fact that one of the guys I met in Valpariso (Chile) was also in town and I ended up bumping into him in the middle of the dance floor at Drais Nightclub, located at The Cromwell Hotel. He lives in Australia and I live in the UK and yet, through the magic of travelling, we ended up not even a metre away from each other. How I ever thought I'd make no new friends whilst away is beyond me!

We stayed at Caesars Palaces, which is just incredible. I will never cease to be awe struck by the size of Vegas hotels. Caesars is also home to Omnia nightclub, where the likes of Calvin Harris, Afrojack and Above & Beyond are residents. We caught Above & Beyond on the Sunday night and they amazing. Not that any of nightclubs put on a crap night. Drai's opens up into a large outdoor area with a pool that has a pretty mind blowing view of Caesars after dark. As much as Vegas is expensive, sourcing out the club promoters is easy and getting on the guestlists gives you free or discounted entry to the clubs themselves, which comes in handy. Especially when three jagerbombs, a long island ice tea and two vodka lemonades will set you back $106. Ouch.

Should also just mention that if you're in Vegas you should just go ahead and have a meal at Tao, in the Venetian. The food is amazing, and all things considered, not that pricey.

From Vegas, it was a short flight up to Modesto to visit my cousin and his wife, who live out there (I swear I'm not envious in the slightest). We visited what I am told is one of Modesto's only two bars, eating cheese and catching up. The following morning, we set off to Sacramento for the California State Fair. As someone who grew up in a sleepy village in South East England, I have always viewed the concept of a State Fair as a place where food is unhealthy, vegetables are the size of buildings and up and coming bands play (ie: the Jonas Brothers in 2008). To be honest, I wasn't that far off. I didn't see any giant vegetables, but there were plenty of prize winning cows and goats, stands that sold any deep fried any food item you could think of (including Oreos and cookie dough) and wine slushies. The slushies were delicious. There was also a huge fairground with rides brought in from Michael Jackson's Neverland (bit strange) and plenty of stools selling a multitude of crap.
I loved it!

My visit was a mere 36 hours long, but I got to tick another new place off my list before flying back to San Diego for my very last night.

Then, that was it. I found myself at LAX, boarding my flight back to London struggling to believe that it had all come to an end. I was not flying somewhere new, or even somewhere sunny! The 19 weeks that had once stretched endlessly infront of me had caught up to me. A blur of amazing places I'd seen and people I'd met, a long collage of  new memories.
My dream was over; but what a dream it was.

- xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Manuel Antonio & Uvita

 

In the name of being a true 'dithery bollocks' (a term lovingly coined by my parents), I found myself heading back to Quepos and Manuel Antonio. This 'retracing of my steps' happened for a few reasons, Firstly, the weather had been so bad along the Caribbean coast that the roads were all over the place and I found myself not wanting to spend any time in the rain and the grey (a nasty side effect of being English). Secondly, Silvia and Olivia, the two girls from my G Adventure's tour, were going to be there and this was going to be our last chance to see each other before we were all back in Europe. Thirdly, I wanted to see a mother loving sloth and according to everyone I'd met, this was the place to see one.

Three Toed Sloth

So I finally made it inside the national park. Entry is $16 and we paid an extra $20 to have a certified guide take us on a tour and point out plenty of animals. WORTH. THE. DOLLAR.
Not only did I get to see Capuchin Monkeys, Howler Monkeys, various types of Grasshopper, Land Crabs, a Vine Snake and (sickeningly) a collection of Spiders, but I also got to see both type of sloth.
It was truly magical and I would just like to thank the baby Jesus and anyone who ate at the TGI Friday's in High Wycombe between August 2014 and March 2015 for the opportunity. The money you paid for your food paid my wages which created this memory for me. Amen.

Beach inside Manuel Antonio National Park

(I'm still not over it)

It's also worth noting that the beaches inside the park are absolutely gorgeous and well worth the entrance fee. Unlike a lot of the beaches along the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica, the waters here are perfect for swimming and terrible for surfing. Just be careful that Capuchin and Raccoons don't try to steal your sun cream/food/life.

Once I'd recovered from Sloth-mania, it was time to head further down the coast to the tiny little beach town of Uvita. By this stage of my travels, I'd overcome the fear of turning up some place new without having booked any accommodation, and wandered off in search of 'Flutterby House' hostel. You can only book three days in advance, otherwise you have to chance it and turn up, hoping they've got room for you. Thankfully (especially with it being rainy season) they had room for me. The place is incredible. All of the dorms and private rooms are up in treehouses, you sleep under mosquito nets and the place runs of eco-friendly values. It's also a mere 3 minute walk to the beautiful beaches inside the Marino Ballena National Park.The place has one of the longest whale seasons in the world, and if you have $75 spare (I didn't), you can spend the day on a boat trying to spot them.

Beach inside Marina Ballena National Park

In town, there is a bar and restaurant called 'Roadshack' and Saturday night is Reggae night, (I've leart that they love a Reggae night in Costa Rica), which is where the girls and I spent our last night. I wish I could comment on drink prices, but I can't. I was drunk.

Before I knew it, I was back on the bus and heading back to San Jose ready to catch my flight as my month in Paradise drew to a close.

I blinked, and my little Latin American dream was over.
Just one week left to go.

-xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: The Nicoya Peninsula

The Nicoya Peninsula, I have decided, is where I want to be laid to rest… You know, without getting all morbid and stuff. The place is a slice of sun drenched heaven, and I want to spend the rest of my days there. Literally, who needs the city when you can wake up in paradise?

I took the taxi boat directly from Jaco, it was pricey, at $40 and worth it for the time it saved me, but I'd still rather not discussing parting with so much of my now dwindling budget.

Montezuma is glorious. I stayed at the 'Downtown Montezuma Hostel' which is run by a lovely lady called Elena. It's $10 a night for the dorm and there's pancakes in the morning. Perfect. It's another one of those fab hostels where you get to know all of the other guests and travelling on your own is made to feel like the easiet thing in the universe. It's also a mere two minute walk from the beach, which isn't hard, since almost everywhere in Montezuma is a mere two minutes from the beach. The place isn't very big.



I stayed a week. In South America, spending a week to 10 days somewhere wasn't an issue as I had plenty of time and it didn't tend to mean giving up seeing somewhere else. Out here, where I only have four weeks and spending a week somewhere does mean compromising going somewhere else… I had really wanted to go to Nicaragua. It's cheaper than Costa Rica and would have enabled me to say that I'd been to 10 countries overall.
I'm ending on 9, so can't exactly complain. I know, I know, I was being greedy.
I don't regret it though, Montezuma is incredible and besides sunning myself on the beach there are plenty of waterfalls to visit (took me a week to visit them, mind) as well as the 35 minute beach front walk to the gorgeous Playa Grande. A beach fresh out of a catalog. The walk there takes your through jungle and little beach coves, each one different from the last. One beach in particular is named 'Red Beach' after the red coloured rocks that reside there. It is here that, if you scramble over some rocks, you can find a little set of water falls with small pools you can paddle in. It's also where I saw an entire troop of Capuchin Monkeys swing on by.


Have I mentioned that I love it here?

From Montezuma (you know, once I finally left) I made my way to Santa Teresa on the other side of the peninsula. Santa Teresa is essentially one road with lots of hostels, hotels and restaurants coming off it. I stayed at 'Hostel 7' which was friendly enough, but Lord, I have never been so sweaty at night. The rooms are sweltering. A friend had recommended that whilst here I go up to the hotel 'Vista de Olas' to use their infinity pool and watch the sunset. Sadly, on the day I went the sky was overcast, so it wasn't so much of a sunset as it was a chance to watch the sky change colour. It was amazing. The view was utterly unreal, just shoreline and jungle as far as they eye could see. It was a pricier backpacker activity, probably costing me about $25 overall. That included that $16 you have to put behind the bar on a tab upon arrival, but with that $16 I got 3 beers and a cocktail - so it was (as always) money well spent.

Despite having not really done a lot, this part of Costa Rica totally has my heart and I'll be back. It opened me up to the idea of doing a work exchange and being able to spend some real time here without worrying too heavily on how expensive it all is. Almost everyone I met was on some sort of placement and I couldn't help but be super envious.

Looks like I know how I'll be escaping the UK again once I'm back!

- xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Quepos and Jaco

At the fresh, new age of 22, I boarded my flight (the day after my birthday) to Costa Rica. The start of Chapter 2.

I landed in San Jose, which reminded me of Gauyaquil in the sense that it's one of those strange 'nothing' cities. I spent two nights there because I couldn't figure out where to head to first. Apparently, this trip has unravelled all the focus I used to put into planning my life. Now, it appears I'm even more dithery, but I'm definitely not as stressed, which I take as a positive.

Eventually, I decided to head to Quepos, a small town on the Central Pacific coast, located near to the Manuel Antonio National Park. I booked myself into 'Central Backpackers' because my guide book reccomended it...
I should not have listened to my guide book.
I should also, by now, have learnt not to pay for a place until I've actually seen my room.
It's not that the hostel was bad, the manager was lovely and breakfast was good. It's just that the dorms were being renovated so I was put into a small room and I happened to be the only guest staying there. Bit shit. Travelling solo is awesome, but having come off such an amazing couple of weeks surrounded by people I'd grown to know and love, being totally on my own again was a little bit soul destorying. Thankfully, my two nights passed quickly and I checked myself into 'Wide Mouth Frog' a much nicer hostel, that had a pool, a very friendly dog called Mocca, and most importantly, other backpackers.

The beach in Quepos isn't particularly big and practically disappears when the tide rolls in. But the grassy banks are pretty to sit on and watch sunset. In Manuel Antonio, the public beach is much nicer and the bus journey there only took 15 minutes and cost me 320 Colones (about 45p).

Costa Rica is ridiculously expensive but it's public transport is cheap.
I don't really get it.

I had wanted to visit the National Park, but broke out in some hideous allergic reaction and didn't want to leave the hostel for fear of scratching my own arms off in public. That would have been kinda gross.
(But dw I'm all good now, thanks for asking).

Next it was a short 1.5 hour bus journey to the touristy town of Jaco. Despite being over run with Gringos and feeling like a tiny slice of the USA, I actually really liked it. It's one of those places where the touristy tat of it all adds to the atmosphere. I stayed at the incredible 'Room2Board' - a hostel that is basically a hotel. It had a pool, was impressively clean and had a yoga studio to boot. It was more expensive, at a full $16 a night, but the money was completely justified.
At this stage, the allergic reaction was so painful and sore, I sought medical advice from the chemist. She gave me two different sets of tablets to take and said that I was strictly not to drink. They worked, but not drinking was novel. Not that I need alcohol to talk to people (ask anyone who knows me, I'm probably on the annoying side of chatty), but having a beer and sitting around a in hostel come hand in hand. It just makes it easier, because you can, at the very least, nod at someone vaguely friendly looking who's also on their own and drinking in the hope of striking up conversation…

'I am not an alcoholic, I am a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings and I go to parties' - truth.

 

Anyway, not drinking did encourage me to be healthier and, it has to be said, yoga as the sun sets over the Pacific Ocean is officially my new favourite thing ever. I'd forgotten just how much I love yoga and why I became so obsessed it before I came away. I mean, absolutely no other form of excercise has ever, or will ever, get me willingly out of bed at 6am. It made me almost (almost) look forward to going home, so I can get back to practising more regularly.

Not that I was all that focused on home, as I lounged by the pool and bathed in the Central American sun, that is... 

-xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Ecuador

I'm not even sure how it happened, but I blinked and was suddenly in my final South American country, bringing leg one of my trip to a close. 

Time flies. Ok people?

First up was the little beach town of Montanita. It's a lively surf town, where life is laid back and sun drenched. Obviously, I thought it was *everything*. We stayed at an adorable hostel, run by a crazy French guy called Nico, named 'Chillhouse'. It's a rare kind of hostel, one where the owner will always interact with you, and where getting to know all the other guests is easy as pie. It's probably one of the few hostels I've stayed at where turning up on my own would almost have been better than turning up as a group.

Thursday-Saturday nights are when the town really comes alive, with 'Hola Ola' kick starting things with their Ladies Night on Thursday. Cheap drinks, 2-4-$5, and an aerial acrobat make it a great way to start your weekend. Friday night's are all about Lost Beach Club, which served up so much Deep House I felt like I was back in some grotty Manchester nightclub two-stepping to a DJ my housemates love, who's name I could never remember. Saturday night's... Ok, I didn't actually make it out on the Saturday night, but it's Montanita's biggest night of the week.

Personal faves included 'Cocktail Alley', which is what it says on the tin. An alley, lined with cocktail shack after cocktail shack ($4 for a Passion fruit Daiquiri, anyone?) and Rastapan. A bakery that only sells three types of pizza bread and are totally delicious.

Next stop was Banos, but it meant spending the day in Gauyaquil. Don't spend anytime in Gauyaquil... The highlight was an American style shopping centre.

Banos, however, is beautiful. Set back in the mountains (this made me sad), the tiny town is largely famous for the 'Casa de Arbol' (treehouse) and it's swing at the end of the world. We stayed at 'Great Hostel Backpackers', which is another one of those fab hostels you never have to leave. We went white water rafting, which was SO much better than it was in Peru. We even all fell out at one point, which just added to the fun. Seriously considering never coming home and just learning to be a rafting instructor instead, as the views are always incredible. 

Getting to the treehouse and swing is either a two hour hike, or a $1 bus ride. No prizes for which option I chose. Contrary to what the photos depict, the swing is no where near as scary as it looks. Clever photography and the tree's surreal geographical setting are what make it look so high adrenaline. 

I almost jumped off a bridge in Banos too. Harnessed and attached to a million ropes, of course, but I didn't because I'm a wimp. 

I'm also a chronic overthinking. 

Final Ecuadorian stop was the capital, Quito. This is also where I turned 22. Quito feels a bit like La Paz, in the sense that it felt like you were constantly at rick of being robbed. It's still a fun city though. We stayed at 'Vibes' in the new part of the city, and it was perfectly located close to all the bars and restaurants. 

I don't remember the Friday night, so I feel the less said about that the better.

Saturday was all about starting birthday celebrations. The two girls I was travelling with and I headed up to 'El Panacillo', which is a big Virgin Mary/Angel statue that sits on one of Quito's hills. It's actually kind of scary looking and reminded me of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who. We ate at a fab veggie restaurant called 'El Mapel' and then headed to a club called 'Bungalow 6' just after midnight when it was my actual birthday.

Honestly, I was sort of worried about being away from home for my birthday. Considering my flight to Costa Rica was the following morning, I had accepted the fact that my 22nd was probably going to be a low key affair, and that maybe i could convince someone at my hostel to go for a quick drink with me. Instead, I had one of the best birthday's ever. The two girls I'd been travelling with made sure I had a fab day, and everyone from the hostel celebrated with me. It felt like I'd known them all for years, not just weeks or hours. Even on the Sunday, a small group came with me to visit the equator (crappiest tourist attraction ever- I completely recommend it) and about 15 of us went for breakfast. They even bought me out a huge cake. It's a testament to how like-minded and big hearted your fellow travellers are. 

Feeling happy and grateful, I packed up my bag and headed to the airport. 

Time to start the second chapter.

-xo 

 

Hayley in Wanderlust: Lima & Mancora

 

 

Lima is a 22 hour bus journey from Cuzco, which sounds hideous, I know. But what if I told you it was actually one of the most comfortable 22 hours I'd had on this trip so far? I'd be lying, right?
Wrong.

 Cruz Del Sur are now and forever my favourite transportation company. A bus company that operate through Peru and parts of Ecuador and Columbia, it's first class travel for a fraction of the price. I got asked which meal option I would like, meat, chicken or vegetarian? They couldn't even get the right on my flight from London to Rio! I also had my own personal TV screen, seat that folded all the way back and effectively turned into a bed, blanket and pillow. It was bliss, and it cost me just over £40.
(It was also on this bus journey that I realised I could watch entire films in Spanish without subtitles in English and understand everything... but, that's just me bragging now).

As cities go, I really liked Lima. It's not somewhere I had heard much about in the way that I had, say, Buenos Aires or La Paz, but it certainly exceeded expectations. I was still travelling with an Australian guy I'd originally met in San Pedro, and we stayed at 'Pariwana Hostel' in the Mirafolres neighbourhood. It was lovely. The hostel was big, clean and cheap enough on the food and drink front. They also offered a range of day activities, including a tour of Downtown Lima, which we took up. It turned out to be less of a tour of that actual part of the city (although we did walk through the large Plaza de Armas) and more a tour of an old Franciscan Monastery. It was beautiful, and took my back to being at school, you know, because of the whole 'Roman Catholic' thing? Although, these days I'm more impressed at the fact that I can walk into religious establishments without instantly bursting into flames.

The strangest, and cutest, thing about Lima though is Parque Kennedy. A park in the middle of Miraflores that is full of stray cats. I don't mean stray cats in a maingy, gross kind of way either. I mean it is literally a park fill of fluffy, cuddly cats who are out to scam you for your last chip. There was so many of them, and it made a nice change to the amount of street dogs I've seen across the continents various cities. Bizarre and adorable.

Sadly, it was in Lima that I had to say goodbye to James who was returning to Sydney. Without a doubt, the worst part of travelling and living in this little nomadic bubble is creating bonds with amazing people who live miles and miles away and having to say goodbye. It keeps you on your toes, and just ends up making you want to travel more so you get to see everyone again.

Then it was another fab journey with Cruz Del Sur up to Mancora, a beach town in north Peru. No words to express the happiness I felt at feeling the sun in my face once more. Lima had been both warm and by the beach, but was horribly overcast.

I had been told, by many, many people, that THE place to stay was the Loki del Mar. I had been told it was the craziest of all the crazy hostels and that I should prepare myself for full blown debauchery. In my head, it was like something out of 'Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents' and my mother was going to pop out of the swimming pool catching me downing 3 litres of rum... It wasn't anything like that. Instead I found a good hostel, with a fab sized swimming pool and decent menu, that had a great vibe and offered alcoholic slushies. It had a little pathway straight on to the beach, where there were planet of opportunities to take part in water sports and surf lessons. Mascara was also fab for shopping, and I spent money out of my now dwindling budget on clothes I wont really be able to wear in a British climate (crochet crop top, anyone?)

It was also here that I met the next group of poor unfortunate souls who'd be stuck with me until way  into Ecuador.

I love the beach.

- xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Cuzco

 

The Holy Grail of my trip, and one of the main reasons I've been so obsessed with coming to South America, is Machu Picchu. It's just one of those fantasy places. You know, the kind you read about and see pictures of but never actually think you'll get to visit? Like Lapland or the Moon.

There is, however, a lot more to Cuzco than just a fleeting visit on route to the famous Inca ruins. I was there for 11 days and could have stayed so much longer- the place is so much fun.

Following La Paz, I thought it best to avoid staying at the 'Wild Rover' here, and opted for the 'Milhouse' instead. Unlike it's Buenos Aires counterpart, this 'Milhouse' is unbelievably chill, the breakfast is amazing (fruit for breakfast in Bolivia and Peru doesn't really happen in hostels) and each bed is section off slightly and comes with it's own reading light. Sadly, I was only there for one night before opting for a cheaper hostel called 'The Point',  but I probably should have just spent my money. 'The Point' was clean, and offered the same facilities as 'Milhouse' but the place was organised chaos. As receptionists in one of the busiest backpacking point in South America your ONLY job is to assign people to the correct bed. That's it. Tell us where to sleep and get it right. Not rocket science, but when there was an issue every single day I was there, I started to wonder if maybe one required a degree in Quantum Physics in order to get it done.

I would love to say that I used Cuzco as a time for a little RnR, but that would be a lie. The Wild Rover here, although much tamer than the one in La Paz (Thank you Lord baby Jesus, and Mary and all of the saints), still served as the perfect place to start nights out on account of cheap drink offers and fun atmosphere. Then, we'd head to either Temple or Mama Africa's (very little recollection of either).

I also, went to a music festival whilst in Cuzco, and can subsequently never return to Ollantaytambo or The Sacred Valley of the Incas.

Spontaneity isn't really a word i'd associate with the choices I make, no matter how much i'd like to. I'm a control freak, who always tends to have a plan. Pulling an all-nighter at amusic festival in the middle of Sacred Valley was not part of my plan, but in the name of being a good backpacker (and because my friend and I woke up horrifically hangover and looking for anything to brighten up our day) when the opportunity to go to Arkana arose, I didn't say no. The three day pass was about £25, and despite the fact that we were only going for a night, it seemed like good value.
The whole thing was an experience, and I'm still not sure why Psych Trance is allowed to be a type of music, but I'm glad I went. Truth be told, I think I'm still getting over it...

Following Arkana, and once I'd managed to get a decent nights sleep and eat a meal not made on festival grounds, I headed into the Plaza de Armas to book my Inca Jungle Trek. To do the actual Inca Trail, you have to acquire you permits months in advance and be aware that it's over $700 to do. No thanks. I'd already read about, but had also been recommended the Inca Jungle Trek by dozens of people. It's way cheaper and wasn't just a solid four days of trekking - I was sold. I got mine, including white water rafting and zip-lining for $230, then paid an extra $10 to catch an earlier train.

Day one involved mountain biking 2000km down a road... it went horribly. I'm not a cyclists and Peruvians drive like crazy. I was mid panic attack about sixty light years behind the rest of my group when my guide pulled up in the van next to me asking if I just wanted a lift down. I obliged. Don't get me wrong, it was just another thing that made me feel like a big fat loser who can't do anything right, but sometimes it's important to admit defeat. I have other strengths.
The afternoon and whit water rafting where a much bigger success and whilst I'm still unsure as to the safety of the company we went with, it was so much fun I honestly didn't care. The views were unreal too. It looked like someone had painted the mountains and cloud around us.

Day two was hike day. It was hard work. Bloody hard work, actually. The sun shone gloriously and a solid two hours was an almost verticals uphill climb. At the start we walked along a road and I remember looking ahead to this great mountain that stood before us and thinking 'Fuck me, I'm glad we're not walking up that!'
We walked up that.
I resented every single second of the climb, but when we reached the top it was so worth it I wasn't sure if my lungs hurt from the strenuous exercise or the sheer beauty of the valley below me. It was incredible. I should hike more often (hahahahaha). On route, we stopped at two 'Monkey Houses', whilst our guide explained about Inca history, their culture and the way they used the land around them. Fascinating, by the time we reached lunch I felt I'd never earned a meal more in my life! (This 'out door' thing is still all quite new to me).



Day three involved a morning of zip-lining, which is probably the closest I'll ever come to flying and was proof my fear of heights is dwindling as I grow older and wiser and then a three jour walk. Following the pervious day's hike, three hours didn't seem too bad, but it was monotonous. We walked along the train tracks that take you to Aguas Calientes, the town that sits below Machu Picchu. Once you got over the prettiness of the place, the following 2.5 hours were mind numbingly dull. Aguas Calientes is a really cool town, but one that's soul purpose is clearly geared around tourism. Still, it was dinner with the group before heading to bed, ready for a 4am start.

There are two ways up to the Manhu Picchu site. The first, is taking the shuttle bus, which costs you $12 and starts running from 5:30am; the second is to walk up the Inca steps when the park opens at 5am. I chose the steps, you know, in the name of pushing myself. There were 1763 of them. 1763 steps of death that made the steps up to my Zia Gina's house in Sicily feel like an escalator. It was torture, every time I thought I was almost there I was most certainly not  almost there. It took me an hour. Please don't read this and think that it was your average staircase either because it wasn't. Each step was a different height, width and length. Some were gentle, some felt like the spirit of gym memberships past come to kick my arse. Reaching my destination has honestly never felt so good. When I entered the site and finally saw the ancient City of the Incas, I'm not ashamed to say that I had tears in my eyes. It just stunning, the weather was perfect and it was all just a bit 'knock me over with a feather' to be honest. I was speechless at it all because I'd done it. Me. Hayley Devlin who was last for every sports team known to man, the girl that used to hide behind the tennis courts during cross country, had made it to Machu Picchu. My ultimate Bucket List item, officially ticked off.

My return to Cuzco was brief, I arrived back at half 11 and by midnight was out and drinking, celebrating the fact that I'd survived it.

Dramatic and drunk...

They'll probably put that on my tombstone.

-xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Bolivia

From Uyuni, my trip into Bolivia took me to the mining town of Potosi. I'd caught up with one of the girls I met in Santiago again after my Salt Flats tour ended and we made our way there together. Potosi is, it has to be said, far, far nicer than Uyuni (although, that isn't exactly hard), but unless you're going to do one of the mine tours, you don't really need a lot of time there.

My dislike of small spaces and, let's call it, 'fondness' of panic attacks, meant that climbing into a tiny working mine was off my agenda, but the girl I was travelling with went and said it was fascinating. For many, its a 'must-do' whilst in Bolivia, and its not a very expensive activity either. Whilst she was doing that, I decided to take a tour of the Iglesia de San Francisco (Church of St. Francis, my Nonna will be so proud). Its the second oldest church in Latin America, and the tour, which only cost BOB$15 (£1.50), offers the most amazing views of the city from the rooftop. However, the tour is in Spanish, and as far I know, isn't available in English. Fab if, like me, Spanish is one of the few (ok, only) skills you have, mot so great if not.

From Potosi, we caught a four hour bus to the city of Sucre, which apparently is the capital (if you follow me on Instagram, I will have already shared that fun fact with you- sorry for repeating myself). Sucre is beautiful, whilst I was there, the sun was shining and the days were warm, bizarre  for Bolivia, but I can't say that I did a great deal. Truth be told, I used to spend the day wandering in and out of the giant fruit and veg market, 'Mercado Central', where you can get your hands on a whole haul of fresh produce for well under a tanner. Take that, Tesco.
We stayed at the perfectly pleasant 'CasArte Takubamba', a quiet hostel with friendly staff, clean bathrooms and a kitchen set half in garden... Because everyone loves a bit of Al Fresco.

I'll be honest, it was really nice to have three 'down' nights following the Salt Flats. I know that being able to travel is all about seizing every opportunity available, but its also really easy to take things to far. As someone who could honestly party without a break for at least a month solidly if given the opportunity, it was wonderful to give myself a bit of rest time before I headed to La Paz...
I wouldn't fully appreciate how good it was until I was in La Paz and my life was swimming around me.


La Paz is an unbelievably amazing city; it's awesome. There's lots to do, its great to party and its a fab location for meeting other backpackers. But like most cities, it has it's dark side, and you really do have to be so much more careful here than anywhere else so far on this journey. I stayed at 'Loki' for one night and then 'Wild Rover Hostel' for about 6 nights. Both are infamous party hostel chains across Bolivia and Peru, but it 'Wild Rover' was undoubtedly the crazier of the two. There's three separate happy hours, free shots throughout the night and debauchery is generally encouraged. I felt right at home. Plus they have am extensive food menu, meaning if you didn't want to leave the hostel (and, honestly, it all came down to just how fragile you were feeling), you didn't have to.
I had lots of plans for my time in La Paz. I wanted to do Death Road, absail down a hotel with Urban Rush, see the city from one of the cable cars and browse both the Witches Market, and the market in El Alto.
It didn't go to plan.

On the Sunday that I was there, some friends from the hostel and I decided to kill two birds with one stone and take the red cable car up to the El Alto market, which only takes place on Thursdays and Sundays. The cable cars cost BOB$3 (30p), each way and offer the most stunning panoramic views of La Paz, which is basically a city in the clouds anyway. After an hour or so of worming our way around the market, we decided to head back down. The guys wanted to return to the hostel, but Catherine and I wanted to head to Witches Market. Both involved getting in taxis. The boys got in one, and Catherine and I got in the one that was flagged down, and pulled up behind it.
Essentially, there aren't uniform taxi's in Bolivia. In Sucre and Potosi, almost all of them had looked fake, but weren't. Its mot like being in London or New York, where legit taxis are very obvious, you know? There is also a type of taxi used in many South American countries called 'collectives', shared taxis that sometimes only follow a certain route, sort of like a bus, or hang about and take multiple passangers. When I first encountered them in Chile, I thought they were weird, but like most new customs you encounter when travelling, you get over it. I just want to say, that even though they're the norm out here, I still wouldn't get in one on my own and certainly not at night, but it was 2pm on a sunsay afternoon, and I was with someone.... Why would we have questioned it?
Then, the fun started. Another 'passenger' gets in, tells us he's from Ecuador and starts yapping away in Spanish and English. Then we're flagged down by a guy saying he's police. He asks the taxi driver for his papers, which the taxi driver shows him, and then he gets in the car. He starts talking, quickly and again in broken Spanish and English, demanding to see our passports (which obvz we didn't have on us, are you effing kidding me?!) and claiming that, since we were braking Bolivian law by mot having them on is, we just had to pop to office so he can see when we entered the country. Then, he starts searching through the other 'passenger's' things before demanding to search through our stuff too. I should probably add that, by this stage, we are now being driven, extremely fast, up the motorway that leads out of La Paz... but the penny still hadn't quiet dropped for me. All I knew was that I was terrified.
Before I knew what was happening, the driver had pulled over, and we were being told 'Thank you. Goodbye' (I'm not joking) as the 'Police Officer' opens the door and ushers us out onto the side of the road. Then they drove off.

Ours phones, Catherine's Kindle and some cash still with them.

Took a while to realise we'd been scammed to be honest, which just added to how horrific the whole thing made me feel. I cried on and off, for about four days and it took a least a week before I felt ok on my own again.

It all just made me feel like a bit of a failure. This trip has been my entire life since I finished university. I sacrificed the dream job, my life in Manchester and, if I'm being honest, relationships (or the possibility of relationships) to make it happen. Not to mention the fact that it's been my dream since I was at least 11. Things weren't supposed to go wrong. They were meant to be perfect. I was just beginning to feel like a capable human being, who could stand on her own two feet and be fearlessly herself again. It had been such a long journey to get back here... But in the space of a taxi ride, it had been shattered. Who was I trying to fool, right? I was rubbish at this.
For 24 hours (maybe more) they stole more than my phone and £8. They'd taken my entire trip.
I know that we got lucky, it wasn't violent, there were no knives or guns or force involved. That evening, when we were back at the hostel, we cheers'd to not having been raped, because honestly, if we had cottoned on to what was happening and fought it, it could have been a possibility.

Obviously, we were just unlucky. Wrong time, wrong place and all that jazz. I have really got to learn not to take things so heavily to heart, but two days later in was thrilled to leave La Paz and head to Lake Titicaca.

 

It's a high up, watery paradise. From Copacabana, I caught the ferry over to Isle Del Sol, where I spent the night. I have slept on Lake Titicaca, the room cost me £3 and it's possibly the most beautiful view I've ever woken up to.

Bolivia was a mixed bag, but so unbelievably beautiful I can't really say anything bad about it.

'An experience', as I believe the saying goes...

-xo

 

Hayley in Wanderlust: Salar de Uyuni

One of the main stop on the Gringo Trail (the main route/destinations a lot of travellers through South America take/visit), are of course, the Bolivian Salt Flats.
Honestly, before I started planning and researching (and staring enviously at my Facebook feed at those who made it out here before me), I'd sort of forgotten that they were thing. Look, I've never claimed to be any good at geography. Being born with extreme wanderlust doesn't magically warrent you that skill.

Anyway, since I'd been travelling up through Chile, the logical route was for me to enter Bolivia as part of a Salt Flats tour from San Pedro. The place is full of different tour opporaters who all offer you roughly the same package, for roughly the same price. The tours vary in length too, with one option leaving you in Uyuni, and the other bringing you back to San Pedro. I was going to be doing it with two of the girls from my G Adventures tour (as well as one of the girls I has met in Valparaiso and a guy from our hostel) and, to be honest, they did most of the planning.

We booked with a company called 'White and Green' and, admittedly, our tour was slightly more expensive. It meant that we followed a slightly different route and instead of having six passengers and a driver, we had five passanagers, a driver and a tour guide who spoke both English and Spanish. It was definitely a bonus, but since I speak Spanish, I could have easily done one of the cheaper tours and been fine. Not complaining though, it really was amazing going to different spots from all the other tours and the peacefulness of it all was unreal.

On day one, we set off for the Chilean/Bolivian boarded (where I almost froze to death, it's over 4000m above sea level). Once we'd cleared immigration, we headed down to a thermal spring, which was pretty interesting. I'd never been in one before, and after the cold start to the day, it felt amazing to step into nature's bath. The rest of the day was spent visiting three massive lagoons, all of different colours, thanks to the various elements in the earth. My favourite was the 'Coloured Lagoon' as the water looked pink and attracted thousands of flamingos. So cool, flamingos are my spirit animal.



Day Two started with a visit to Rock Valley, which involved climbing up and around various different rock formations. This included rocks that looked like a camel, the World Cup and entire city. From here we headed to Laguna Mysteriosa, which was absolutely unreal. Hidden, thousands of metres above sea level, we had to cross a field/marshland filled with grazing Llamas and scramble across more rocks to get to it, but it was completely worth it. With water black like ink, and reeds taller than me, it was easy to see why they called it 'Mysterious Lagoon' - it was just so beautiful. Following lunch, we visited a canyon that, yet again, tested my stomach for heights, but gave awesome views of the tiny stream that ran through the bottom of it. After this, it was a three hour drove through the national park to reach our 'Salt Hotel' on the edge of the Salt Flats for the night.

Our final day started bright and early, as we were up and on the move by 5:30am to make it to Cactus Island, on the Salt Flats, in time for sunrise. I'll be honest, it was freezing and I really, really, really haven't packed for the cold weather. Had it not been for a jumper given to me by one of the girls I'd met in Cordoba, I would have seriously screwed. Waiting for the sun to come up in the cold was agonising, and I barely stuck it out. The two things I hate to feel the most are cold and hungry, and by sunrise, I was both. Still, it was bloody spectacular and one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen, so yes, it was worth almost dying for. Following breakfast we spent an hour or so out on the Salt Flats taking a whole range of touristy and perfect photos (although, our driver kept trying to have artistic direction of the pictures, which I hated). Then it was time to go to our final stop, the train cemetery, which lay on the outskirts of the town of Uyuni. The train cemetery was creepy, but so cool and was basically a big kids playground, as all the trains were there to be climbed and explored.

On top of seeing some pretty amazing things, it has to be said that my group were brilliant (and yes ok, I'd met them all before we jumped in a jeep together for three days), as were our guide and driver. The food prepared each day was delicious and they accommodated a vegetarian and a vegan with absolute ease, something I had been told wouldn't be possible in Bolivia!

Yet another beautiful highlight to this continuously amazing trip.

-xo