A Casual Jaunt to Murcia, Part 2

If you decided to continue on this tale from the previous installment, then welcome back! If you have decided to skip part 1, then don't worry, it doesn't matter, this isn't like Harry Potter book 7, you're still gonna know whats going on! 

Day 4

We rejoin our Spanish escapade on day 4, which dawned brightly but not as early as planned. I got up around 9.30 with a miraculous lack of hangover considering the strength of the drinks from the night before. For Jaime, however, things weren't so chirpy. Turns out, if you're her, not wearing a sun hat in a water park and then drinking gin is a bad plan. Cue Sun Stroke. 

I decided, in her absence, to nip to the shops to buy some ice lollies, some Oreos and some bread sticks (3 for €1!) - the essentials, obvs.

 

By lunchtime, however, the worst of the Sun Stroke had passed and we set off on the planned trip to Cartegena, an ancient Roman city about 15 minutes on the train away from Balsicas. We rolled up at the train station at approximately 1.01pm, only to find out that the ticket office closed at 1 for siesta. Hrm. After much confusion, it is eventually decided that we can pay on the train. No-one asked us though, so like naughty shop-lifters, we got off the train in Cartagena and walked off looking guilty as sin.

Once we were there, we wandered through the city from the train station (its quite far out) and took in some sites. Due to it being siesta time, most things were shut, but there was still plenty to see.

Being a boiling hot day, we went to find a drink. It was in the bar next to the Roman Amphitheater called 'La Catedral' that we discovered the biggest surprise of the day. As I bought my drink, the barman asked if we had ever been to the bar before - we hadn't, so the guy told me to look down. It was only then I realized that the floor that we were standing on was, in fact, made of glass. Underneath was the original Roman floor and as the bloke from the bar gave us the grand tour, it turned out that this hidden gem had a whole host of Roman features.

It did transpire, though, that Mr-Helpful-Barman had other motives, which were made apparent as he let us out of the side door, he asked me to come back and meet him after his shift ended. Clearly this did not happen. Don't let this put you off though - it really is a facinating little place and I'm pretty sure he would show you around whether or not he wanted to get in your knickers!

After this, things started to open again, so we decided to get a bit more history on by visiting the giant Roman Amphitheater (although we couldn't actually find how to get in!).

  

We then went on a tourist boat trip around the harbor, which was quite fun and relaxing although I don't know if I'd really recommend unless you have an interest in naval history.

It was very hot on the boat, and the shops were calling, so after this we went in search of an icecream and a Zara. 

This was from a little Japanese-looking frozen yogurt chain called 'Smooy' - genuinely amazing!

It was after this we took the misdirected decision to go exploring, which all went wrong after we decided to take a mysterious outside esculater and then after I made Jai climb a giant hill to find a great view.

Following this we ended up walking around for approximately 127 hours, viewing sights such as a health center, an air raid shelter museum and several weddings. Eventually we made it back to the seafront where we decided the best course of action was to have a Burger King and then a coffee. Further confusion ensued when we released that we didn't know where the train station was or where to get a taxi from. After a manic searching and much panicky Spanish-speaking (from Jai - clearly) we eventually made the last train of the day. PHEW. Then on to bed.

Day 5

On day 5 we went to the beach in Santiago De La Ribera, using the fit Ricky Martin-alike taxi driver from before. It's a lovely beach, although quite busy. Due to the fact it is in the  bay of Mar Menor, the sea is calm and warm, although I would advise that you stick to the left of the Yacht Club. Don't be taken in by the fact that the other side is quieter - this is because the sea on the other side is like walking on quick sand. Not that we fell foul of this or anything. Nope.

  

Nothing particularly eventful happened on that day, although it was really nice and chilled, I topped up my tan, had a mojito and finished my book.

That evening, we finished some leftovers, had our last homemade sangria and packed up our stuff for our long journey to the Spanish Capital (more on that coming soon).

We really enjoyed our time in the Costa Calida and I will no doubt be returning in the future, perhaps next time getting a hire car if I'm feeling man enough. Maybe I'll even get to take a future bf there with me if the Bridget Jones curse is lifted from upon me (no offence Jai - you were excellent company, don't worry). I really recommend it as a much more Spanish alternative to the other Costas (you know, Costa Del Crime etc etc), with its beautiful beaches, golf (if you like that kind of thing), historical sites and toasty sunshine!

PS: here's a quick round up of all the Spanish I learned - Pan (bread), Zuma De Naranja (orange juice), Vino Blanco (white wine), Jambon (ham) and Gracias (ta). I'm practically fluent. Yeah, boi! Cheers Jai-bebs.

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A Casual Jaunt to Murcia, Part 1.

So yeah. My friend Jai and I went on a trip to Spain last week on a girly venture to boost tans, chillax, eat, drink and get a bit cultured - this is what happened!

Day 1

First off, as much as a Spanish summer holiday is totes worth rising at 2.43am for, forcing myself up off of Jai’s sofa bed and stumbling across the room to turn off my teeth-grindingly awful alarm after about 10 minutes worth of sleep is not the one. Hair askew and coffee in hand, I slapped on some makeup (don’t ask) and hauled my suitcase to my car and pro-plussed it up, ready to depart. After several minutes of trying to shoe-horn the suitcases into my tiny yet trusty Daewoo Matiz, we set off towards Bristol Airport.

All was running smoothly and the Sat Nav was behaving up until the moment we reached Box, where the roadwork people apparently felt the need to be a complete pain in the arse and send us on a massive detour, not providing nearly enough diversion signage for my liking. Eventually we managed to figure out how to get to the motorway and we made it to the airport with only a few minor hiccups.

Once there, we were surprised to see that the shops were, in fact, open, which allowed us to indulge in a Starbucks brekkie and browse the duty-free, looking through things which the airport though we might need for our journey. 

Nothing particularly exciting happened on the plane, unless you count the commencement of my puzzle book, bought in the airport WHSmith which should have been made of gold for the price they wrangled out of me for it. Other than that, all was of the norm and we got off the plane, experiencing that marvelous hit-you-in-the-face-heat-feeling most of us crave before our holidays. 

We were collected from Murcia airport by the loverly Scottish Carol, the key holder of my Parents house in the small Colsta Calida town of Balsicas. She took us to a supermarket in the town of San Javier so that we could get some water and food for the 5 days that we were staying in the region. It was here that we found some magnificent seafood for only €5 which later became a delicious Paella. We also found these, which are quite a lot like straight yumyums, with a equally comical name...

After this, we headed to the house and aside from a bit of a kerfuffle derived from my Dad not giving me all of the keys that we needed, we settled in immediately and were by (and in) the pool by 12am (TAN ME!). 

Following this we decided to have paella, cooked by Jai using the aforementioned bargain seafood and we settled down with some homemade sangria and a high brow film (I'm kidding - we watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding).

Day 2

After a long and leisurely lie in, we got up, had pan au chocolat (because you have to, even if you are not in France) and readied ourselves for the beach. This all took a mysteriously long time, meaning that by the time we got to the bus stop, it was siesta time and there were no buses. Handy. Considering our lack for hire car (as we are both giant wusses), we decided to defer the beach idea and instead did much as we did the day before - sunbathe, eat and be merry.

(I'm reading Miranda Hart's 'Is it Just Me', by the way, which is HILARE)

 

 

 Jai also took this opportunity to take some scenic photographs of the floor...

Bit weird.

That evening, we decided to indulge in the local culture and Spanish cuisine by going joining a whole host of other brits at the Wok Buffet, a wonderful (and bargintastic - all you can eat for about €10) Chinese buffet where you choose your raw ingredients and take them to the chef. They also give you free shots at the end of your meal which is a bonus!

 

We were planning to go to a bar afterwards which didn't end up happening due to an unfortunate amount of Spanish Brandy, causing me to almost fall over and being very silly around the fit, Ricky Martin-alike taxi driver with lovely tattooey arms.

Day 3

And on the third day, the lord made the water park. In this case, this water park/ zoo combo in Murcia (very easy to get to on the train from the village and then a taxi). It's a bit pricey at £25 per person, but it's great fun and the tickets are valid for 3 days, so you can do the zoo on a separate day if so desired (we didn't on this occasion). Despite the annoying kids in the lazy river (I'm such a pensioner), this childish day out was a bit of a giggle, and it did wonders for my tan (although it did give Jai sun stroke) as it was HOT up there on the hill. We also got a bit of a workout by taking part in a pool Zumba class (it seems a lot more acceptable to thrust around in public if it's in the name of fitness). 

After this mini adventure, we went back to the house and decided to go out in the village for a drink. After about 20 minutes wandering around looking for somewhere nice to go, we plumped for a nice little Spanish bar with an outside seating area. Cue very strong, cheap drinks and Jai flexing her Spanish language skills, leaving me spending much of the evening looking flabbergasted and confused and a bit drunk! Very impressed by her bi-lingual-ism however, especially considering I dropped French in year 9. Go Jai!

 

OK, so that's probably enough for this little escapade for now, as I can tell that you have either already stopped reading or you are currently praying for this to end! Stay tuned (actually don't, that would be a bit pointless and tedious) for the next installation to this marvelous tale. 

Until next time my dears =).

  

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Being on a diet is hard, man!

I’m not even joking, it’s such a drag. I have decided, since I only have less than two weeks until my holibob to Spain with my friend Jaime, who is lovely but very svelte, it was time to stop eating cake and chocolate and get on the Special K. Its day 5 of week 1 and I’m already beginning to get out my angry eyes just at the sight of the stuff.

Now don’t get me wrong, I did bring this all upon myself and I should have either just not eaten said cake or I should be happy with my shape, but you know, ITS NOT THAT EASY. Earlier this year I did lose quite a bit of weight and it was great, but it appears that I have neither the will power nor the stamina not to fall into the gaping trap that is the yoyo diet. Up and down, up and down. I even yoyo exercise – one week I’m a super eager beaver and go almost every day and the next I do the opposite and sit on my ever expanding bottom, not sharing share bags of Minstrels and watching partial-reality telly.

I know that I’m not alone in this cycle and you’re thinking, stop moaning and go for a run. But I can’t, it’s too hot. I can’t, I already washed my hair today. I can’t, I might fall over and land in poop. GAH I also can’t stop making excuses either apparently.

What I am doing, however, is this damned Special K challenge. I have to keep telling myself, as I shovel in each bowl of low fat breakfast cereal and listen to each embarrassing belly gurgle that in 2 weeks time, I will look like Gizelle Bundchen (see below for reference). I’m fully aware that this is unattainable but you can’t knock a girl for being massively optimistic, right?

This challenge has put a temporary stopper on any baking escapades I had planned, which has, I’m afraid, meant I won’t be posting the planned monthly baking blog (not that you knew this was the plan) for June but there will be one in July if you are lucky duckies.

I know that this hasn't been the most inspiring of posts, but hopefully it will mean that when I post my holiday snaps on here, you can all concentrate on the beautiful photography and thrilling account of holiday adventures and be jealous rather than think, that woman should have shared those chocolate buttons.

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I cannot flirt. This is a fact.

It has come to my attention recently that a possible reason for my perpetual single-hood and decent towards a Bridget Jones lifestyle is probably my inability to flirt for love nor money. Put me near a half-attractive man and I automatically start to ooze awkwardness from every pore.

Now, as demonstrated by the two previous blog posts, I am a fan of a glass of wine or two. This post refers not to the hideous flirt monster I turn into after said wine, but to the ineptness of my sober, daytime man-pursuits. It’s all very well managing to talk to men and get a free drink in the pub, but these men are usually simply trying to get into your knickers, which  really isn't the goal at present.

Recently, there have been a couple of incidents where this complete lack of flirting finesse has resulted in me completely failing at life.

Exhibit A: Hot Bookshop Man.

There is a guy that works in Waterstones close to where I work who is really rather lovely to look at and seems to be rather interesting on the personality front at well. If I were a confident and forward individual, I would have snapped up his number and already gone on a lovely date with him. However, me being me, this has not yet happened (obvs). What has happened instead is that I have hung around the bookshop on a few lunch breaks like some creepy stalker, buying books that I don’t really need for a fee far exceeding what I could have spent on the same books on Amazon.

Last Friday was one such lunch break, during which I decided to buy a book by Dan Brown, called ‘The Lost Symbol’. I didn't need to buy it – I’m reading the Game of Thrones series which is really enough to be getting on with. I went to the till to buy said book, and in my haste and with my giant handbag, I sent the big orange comments box flying across the desk. I fumbled my apologies to Hot Bookshop Man and tried to look at him in a flirtatious way. I think I must have just looked like I had something wrong with me. He said ‘I wouldn't count on it not happening again’ (in relation to my ridiculous clumsiness) and on the way out of the bookshop, this is exactly what happened. The box, once again, got caught between my bag and god-knows-what and pretty much ended up on the floor. Miranda comes to mind. No number and hot romantic date for me. Well done Laura, you clearly have the ‘allure’.

Exhibit B – Hot Man on Train

A little while back, I boarded a train to Portsmouth. For some reason, the train was crazy busy and there were very few seats. This being the case, I ended up sitting next to someone, which I usually find really quite irritating as I like to spread out my stuff and make myself at home. However, on this occasion, I wasn't irritated at all. In fact, I was really rather happy with my lot. Sat next to me was Mr Fit. Tall, dark haired and athletic. What more could I have asked for? This would have been the perfect opportunity for me to get my flirt on, had I been anyone else but me. What I did instead was spend the entire journey with my headphones in, every so often admiring him out of the corner of my eye, all the while looking completely unapproachable. I updated my Facebook status proclaiming his attractiveness like a complete saddo, but didn't actually speak to the guy. Once again, no date for Laura.

In conclusion, what I think I need is an intervention. I need someone to get me out of the unfortunate habit of appearing deeply unattractive around very attractive men. I need someone to help me regain what I think I may once have had, flirt-skill wise, in the past and have now completely lost. I need Gok Wan to give me a swift slap to snap me out of it before I die alone and am eaten by Alsatians. 

Help!

(Apologies for the lack pictures in this post - would have been even more stalker/weirdo of me to take pictures in these situations!)

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Dodgy Nando's, a Caterpillar Birthday Cake and Ring In a Boot.

Last weekend, my good friend Jodi Marsh (no, not that one) turned 22. This being the case, some of my favourite ladies (and gent) and I took a pilgrimage to Bristol to help her celebrate via a shopping trip to Cabot Circus and a rather sophisticated cheese and wine evening (check us out!). This was the extent of the plan.

Upon arriving at Cabot after a mostly uneventful journey to Bristol, we drove around and around and around the car park, which had lied and told us that it, in fact, had spaces for us. Eventually, we snuck in a space and went forth to shop. We stood around for a bit in an indecisive manner, pondering about where to go for lunch. After much deliberation, we decided that trusty Nandos was the answer. I was in agreement with this, as I felt that it was about time that I ended my boycott of Nando’s, which had started due to an unfortunate incident where I swore at the manager of the Portsmouth branch after he wouldn’t give me a job. My bad.

Now, bearing in mind that Nando’s has a chicken on its sign and is famed for basically only selling chicken, it baffled me to discover that it also sold steak. Who knew, right? My friend Jess (aka The Flavor Hater) decided that a steak sandwich was the right way forward. However, upon biting into it, she realized that it was entirely the wrong way forward. Made mostly of gristle and fat and resembling the sole of a shoe, it meant that Jess, usually a picture of manners and decorum, ended up wrestling to try and take a bite out of what was essentially a piece of bicycle tire.

You’ve got to hand it to Nandos though I suppose, they have never claimed to be experts at cooking anything else beyond chicken and they did give Jess a full refund without question. Perhaps they knew that cooking steak was beyond their capabilities and they were just giving it a butchers (paha). I had no such problems as I decided to play to Nandos strength and went for a quarter chicken.

Following this hearty (or not in Jess’s case) meal, we descended on the shops. Bearing in mind that I am going on holiday twice in July (once again – check me out!), I have rather a lot to buy before then. However, despite the shopping trip being fruitful for everybody else, I left empty handed, which is always fairly depressing.

We arrived back to Jodi’s house at around half past 7(!) after popping to the shops to stock up on wine. As per usual, Jess and I chose our wine purely for for classy, grown up reasons such as vintage, grape variety etc etc… who I am kidding. We chose it for two reasons only – the fact that it was half price and that it had a comical description – after all, we decided, who doesn’t love a bit of ‘length and texture’!?

To add to the class and maturity, Jodi’s fiance Luke brought out her birthday cake, which was the classic Caterpillar cake, complete with smarties face and chocolate coating – the ultimate in childhood nostalgia.

We then indulged in some very healthy(ish) cheese and crackers from the mountain of cheese provided by Jodi. I’ve come to the conclusion that Jodi is a feeder and one of her aims in life is to fatten up her friends.

More wine was consumed and then disaster struck. Tears were shed and the entire room was pretty much dismantled. Whilst absent-mindedly fiddling with her engagement ring (that sounds a bit filth – sorry), it fell off of her finger and disappeared. Panic ensued. The sofa was lifted and bags were sifted through. After a good half an hour, we were baffled. Where could it possibly have gone? During this chaos, a perfectly inconspicuous looking boot had been sitting in the corner of the room. We had shaken it several time with no result. On about the tenth shake of the boot, as if by magic, there was the ring. Panic over. Unfortunately, having had a fair amount of alcohol by this point, I did not photograph the mysteries ring-swallowing boot. Sorry.

After this debacle, at around 1 am I had the inspired idea that we should go out. Like, clubbing. And apparently, I have a voice of authority because at half 1, we arrived at Oceana, having made a drunk effort to put on makeup (with this kind of effect) and wearing the same clothes I’d been in all day plus some borrowed boots.

Casual drummer/ saxophonist/ all round beb in Oceania.

We stumbled back in at 5.30am, turned the living room into one big cushion and got around 3 hours sleep. Shockingly enough, I was void of a hangover, partially thanks to a delightful fry-up courtesy of Luke. Nom nom, get in my belly, I exclaimed, and get in my belly it did.

At around 11, I ventured back to Devizes in a sleepy stupor before going to see the new Star Trek film, which I really enjoyed due to my inner Trekkie.  Gotta love a bit of Benedict Cumberbatch and Chris Pine of a Sunday evening.

Over all, in the grand scheme of things, I had an excellent weekend welcoming Jodi into the land of the old, where the teen years are all but a distant memory. I learnt much, including the fact that Nando’s should stick to their day job, that some boots have the ability to swallow items of jewellery and that on occasion, you will find a saxophone player rocking it out in Oceania in Bristol.

A successful outing, I feel.

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