At the ripe old age of 23, I had my first ever breakdown in an airport. Granted, I didn’t do any screaming or shouting, and I didn’t get wrongfully detained, but the fact I walked through Duty-Free at approximately the same speed that Usain Bolt can run, with my heart still somewhere at the check-in desk. See, until 11 months ago, I’d never stepped foot in an airport, let alone left the country (don’t be pedantic and tell me that going to Wales counts because it definitely doesn’t).
Harrison and I had only been together for six months before we booked our first holiday to Bulgaria where we planned on doing nothing other than abusing the hotel bar and attempting to tan. With one of the two things completed, we booked a further two holidays whilst we were away; Greece in September and New York in January. Now, with another trip to Greece also under my belt, the itch to drop everything and take my £0 bank balance to as many places as possible.
If I didn’t find the title ‘digital nomad’ so wanky, you’d best believe that I would be sunning it up in Bali with every other Fashion Journalism graduate between the ages of 22 and 30 but the glimpse of blue sky that I can see from my window at work will have to do for now. With this in mind, there is a list that is actually much longer than my arm of places that I would like to visit; a bucket list, so to speak.
I don’t know when or how or why this got into my head, but for the past couple of months, I’ve been set on going to Fiji for our honeymoon. Not that Harrison has had much say on the matter, it was kinda just this concept that I had in my head once and now I firmly believe that we’re going there. So, despite the fact that I still keep looking at how much a water bungalow in the Maldives will cost for a fortnight and how we’re going to scrape together enough money to even go to Butlins at this rate, I can keep dreaming.
I don’t live under a rock, so naturally, I want to go to Bali. The problematic thing with this is that Harrison essentially lives on a diet of chicken nuggets and Vimto, so I imagine that my attempts to persuade him to order an acai bowl to divulge me in my fantasies will fall on deaf ears. Nevertheless, I wholeheartedly think that I would 100% enjoy spending the rest of my life in an infinity pool/pool/paddling pool at this rate in the Bali jungle.
I tried to come up with another place with four letters in its name to go here, but I couldn’t think of one because it’s a Wednesday afternoon so ultimately, I’m braindead. New York was the most incredible place and 14-year-old me is still internally screaming that I got to go. However, we did go in the middle of January and when it was literally -13 degrees. So, I would love to go back to America and Miami looks so cool? Like, effortlessly so? I would have to spend a minimum of £700 on ASOS in order to go here though, so there’s always that.
I fell into a bit of a wormhole the other day reading about the Inca Trail. Whilst Harrison and I are absolute sun fiends who love nothing better than falling asleep and getting sunburnt (okay, maybe not the latter), we’ve both also discussed wanting to travel and explore, as the cold January temperature meant that we weren’t free to roam and discover hidden gems as much as we would’ve liked. If I was a little bit fitter and felt like I could absolutely hike all day every day in the heat, then Peru would be the next place I’d love to fly to.