A final post

Hello there, Blogger world. I HAVE MOVED!

A fond farewell goes out to Google, you did me proud for my first ever blog but I have now moved to greener pastures.

Check out http://gottakeepmovin.wordpress.com/

Follow. Comment. Bookmark. Enjoy.

Let me know what you all think!

Another chapter

After a particularly dry spell over the past three months, where I have found the ability to get myself in gear and get down to some serious writing, I have all of a sudden plucked up the productivity from somewhere and made some decisions about my path in the future.

As it turns out, my current place of work as an Editorial Assistant has decided to extend my temporary contract by another 6 months. (I genuinely have no idea why because I am in fact at work as we speak, no where near on a lunch break, writing this. Oops.) As much as I gritted my teeth whilst expressing my delight in staying in the country for longer than I expected, I was a responsible adult and thought it would be best for me to save a whole load of dosh so that, come 2012, I can travel comfortably for once in my life.

Therefore, I might be a little thin on the ground for subject matter in terms of travelling until then. Having said that, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve as destinations planned, so never fear, dear readers. I also have a huge overhaul of the blog coming, so that will entertain you for a while, right? New shiny tools and sections are involved, I promise you a revolution.

This will take up quite a lot of my time but hopefully will be kicking off as soon as possible. Until then, read some old posts, they're always a hoot.

That Second Sex

So, little girls are having push up bras banned from their sections in stores pretty soon here in the UK. I, for one, say hooray! (But feel sorry for those mum's who will encounter the inevitable backlash, good luck to you all.)

On an opposite note, a wave of anarchy has hit the world and encouraging us ladies to get out there on some 'Slutwalks' and reclaim that blessed word as our own, as well as liberate our sexuality. I've been reading about this in today's Guardian article 'Marching with the Sluts'. This protests the idea that promiscuous clothing attracts negative sexual advances and can lead to sexual assault and rape, leaving some of the blame with the victim.

Hmm, tricky one. I am very much as advocate for women wearing what they please and not fear sexual assault in the process. Protester's banners read 'My Clothes are not my Consent', and nothing could ring more true. Whilst women (and men for that matter) do dress up to attract sexual attention, you then cannot make the illogical jump to consent for sexual abuse, making it her fault that these advances occured. However, the truth remains that if you are willing to dress in less, you are more often than not going to get some unwanted attention. If you think you can tackle that, then sashay away!

A complex subject, one that I'm finding too hard to ponder and will end up contradicting myself. A sad fact of life is that men rarely fear of sexual abuse, an even greater sad fact being that their natural greater strength is the main reason.

This is something I have loathed for several years now, that my physical make-up as a woman can stop me doing certain things. Particularly as a traveler, there are places in this world I just cannot go alone to due to my sex. Grr. My time in a 10k (or the awaited half-marathon I am undertaking in September) will never be as good as a man's. Doube grr!

I will probably try my best at fighting that as much as possible in the hopes that it won't get me killed one day. I often get some funny looks when describing my solo female travels, but you'd so surprised but how many women out there are going it alone and staying safe all the while. I could not think of anything worse than sitting at home and cursing my womb for my lack of adventure.

A Reason for Everything

I am currently reading 'Of Human Bondage' by W. Somerset Maugham and came across this quote:

"It's no use crying over spilt milk, because all of the forces of the universe were bent on spilling it."

It got me thinking about my own attitude towards fate, as in recent months the phrase 'everything happens for a reason' has been repeated to me by many an inidividual in an attempt to make sense of it all.

Since I gave up on my Christian persuasion a number of years ago, I have been considering my feelings towards the idea of forces beyond our recognition. Whilst I still don't believe in a single all-powerful entity, and I also don't entirely believe that you can send your thoughts out to the universe to control it's actions and receive your hearts desire. And yet I cannot sit here and believe there is no force pushing some of us together, or pulling some things apart, whatever form it may take.

I have to say that looking back on the 22nd year (it is almost coming to an end), some things have fallen into place for reasons I cannot comprehend. But it still feels like those reasons are there.

Many people have come into my life this year, and couple have also gone out of it. It has only dawned on me recently what some of these people have brought to my life, in terms of my own personal development.

I experienced the death of a friend for the first time, and it has changed my perspective on life more than he ever would have thought. I've experience heart-ache this year more than I have before, and yet looking back it all makes sense as to why this person was there for a little while, and also why he has left my life for the time being.

Each step of travelling has had it's impact on the way I live. India taught me that there is so much more to the world than our little comfort zone of England. Morocco taught me that travelling with eight people is a complete nightmare, but somehow we still made it work. Canada taught me too many lessons to explain, but mostly that I do possess the courage to go it alone. Barcelona was the biggest party I've ever had.

This time last year I didn't know I wanted to be a writer. I can only imagine what my 23rd year will bring!

Lastly, I'd like to send my love to the friends and family of Matt Harris, the friend of mine who passed away last September. Today would have been his 24th birthday. The reason you were taken from us is still unclear.

A Hedonist's Guide to Barcelona: Cafes and Restaurants

So, I didn't spend every waking minute in Barcelona in night clubs...luckily. In keeping with the Spanish way of life, I spent the daylight hours mincing around the city looking for anywhere to sit, ponder and scribble.

I'm going to dive straight in with my favourite place that I went to probably three or four times during my stay there; a little rustic tea house named Caj Chai. Situated in the heart of the Gothic quarter, (in fact it can be a mission to find but persevere because it's worth it!) this little den smells unbelievable the second you walk in and feels like home to me. You're given plenty of choice when it comes to tea to drink, with a plentiful menu littered with exotic options. My personal pick was cinammon black tea, one I ashamedly didn't budge from each time I went. Those who are a little peckish should randomly choose the little Indian and Arabic pastries served. Those a bit more hungry could probably take down a chocolate brownie if they think they can handle the density.

If you're out on a shopping spree in and around the Gothic quarter and fancy re-energising with some carbs, there is great place just off George Orwell Square aptly named Pasta Bar. This tucked away spot provides nicely sized portions, and reasonable priced too. You choose your pasta (some cost more than others but only by a euro or less), your sauce, and then any other accoutrements that take your fancy. Whipped up in a matter of minutes, it will keep you going all afternoon in the Barcelona sun.

Finally, this last place was introduced to me whilst eavesdropping on a conversation the delicious man at the front desk of our hostel was having with some other guests. Caleuche is situated on the other side of La Ramblas, Paral.lel being the closest metro station. It's mouth-watering menu made it hard to choose just one single thing, so myself and a friend of mine ended up having to choose at the last minute and then subsequently sharing. Whilst inching our chairs every so often back into the sunshine as it was moving over us, we ended up staying here for around three hours without even noticing, our bellies nicely full from pizza and salad. If you're staying the HelloBCN, which is just round the corner, ask the front desk for a card for this restaurant and you'll be able to bag some extra food for the same price.

Now I've talked about food, I'm starving...

A Hedonist's Guide to Barcelona: Nightlife

Truth be told, Barcelona was probably the  least productive bit of travelling I have ever done. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it was a 'holiday', one of my least favourite and most insulting words. I embraced the pleasure-seeking Spanish life to the max., and ended up partying all night, snoozing 'til midday, recovery and repeat.

So, in terms of tourism, I am useless. In terms of nightclubs, bars, incredible pasta joints and my favourite tea house, there I can help you. So as to not make my posts too long, lets stick to the nightlife first and the more savoury acitivites I will explain at a later date.

We mostly went out with the crowd in our hostel, as they organised club nights for free. Situated right next to Paral.lel metro station are a couple of bars we frequented before hopping in cabs towards the club.

Malverde is a teensy little mojito place that seems like it's always empty until thirty of us from the hostel arrive and then there's hardly room to breathe. The poor barman dreaded the clock striking midnight I'm sure. The beers are cheap at around 2.5 euros, which believe me is nothing in comparison to how much you're about to spend later in the night.

A stones throw away from our hostel is El Petit Apolo, nestled behind the Apollo Theatre (more to come on that tasty gem). With individual beer pumps on each table and the dangerous ability to pour your own drink without having to wait for service, this place was a regular haunt of ours. You're given a number from 1 to 10, representing your table number, and a couple of screens around the place show you how much you've poured and therefore how much you've spent (its around 7 euros a litre). They even turn it into a competition and have first and last place emblazoned across the top of the screen. The tapas here is hit or miss, as is the service. Don't order the Russian salad, tuck into plenty of fries with spicy sauce and be pushy with the staff otherwise you'll never get served.

So, the clubs. Not much of a clubber myself as I prefer quirky bars, Barcelona was a taste of something different for me. Hyde Club and Boardbar are both pretty standard clubs but worth a visit. Both have walkways from the door opening up to a wider dancefloor, Broadbar's is lit up with UV and white lighting which gives it a classy feel. Get ready to spend in both, drink are rarely less than ten euros a pop. Needless to say I stopped drinking on arrival.

The one club that everyone says in a must-do in BCN is Razzmatazz, a.k.a my worst nightmare. It's a huge clubbing complex, with five rooms, an endless number of staircases, and the capacity for tens of thousands of people. Granted the drinks are cheaper, but intimacy is thrown out the window and replaced with black concrete walls and a funny smells that sticks to your clothes. Still worth a go if it's your kind of thing.

Last but most certainly not least, is the Apollo Theatre, and my favourite clubbing destination in Barcelona. I was but seconds away from getting on a bus to a beach club with the rest of the hostel when a certain lady from Manchester next to me pointed out that the building we were standing next to was supposed to be the best indie night in the city. How could I possibly resist? After some sweet-talking to skip the queue (seriously Anna, mad skills) we found ourselves howling Florence and the Machine and Blondie until the wee hours amongst a huge crowd and next to a stage with it's own bar, a very excitable DJ boosting the crowds energy and, mysteriously, a telephone which the DJs used to call...the bartenders? Their mates? Pete Tong?! To this day it annoys me that I don't know what it was for. Anyway, as far as club nights go for me, this I would definitely recommend.

Go forth and enjoy, and drink lots of sangria in the process!

Interlude

Another post on Barcelona to come, but whilst I try and shake off this headache and reposses the will to write, check out these mad snaps from photographer James Mollison. I don't want to put up too many in fear of plummeting the sales of Mollisons' book in which they are published, and plagarising the website which I got them from, but here are a few.

There are so many more I wanted to put up and it took me a good half an hour to just chose these, which I see as just as good as the ones I left out but I had to choose! i implore you too take a look at the rest.

Major perspecitve shake-up ensues.

(Also, my birthday's coming up in June and you can buy the book here. Say no more.)

Where would you rather sleep?

A new perspective

Someone told me the other day that they had been reading a few things on my blog, present and past posts, which raised points that they couldn't agree with more, and others that they disagreed with entirely.

At first there was a tiny pang of fear in my mind that people don't like that I write, and that it is a load of mutterings from the mind of a mad woman. But then rationality kicked in, and I realised that she wasn't saying she didn't like what she read, but that her opinions were different and she still enjoyed reading it nonetheless.

Phew, that I can deal with. Over the past year as I have been writing this blog, even my own opinions have changed. Sometimes I look back on previous posts and find myself not entirely agreeing some of the points I made. Part of me dislikes my lack of constant conviction, and I'd prefer consistency throughout my beliefs and expressions. However, I am only 22 after all with a lot to learn and a lot to live in front of me, and if I always stayed the way I was now I would feel so in the dark about the ways of the world.

I never expected everyone to agree with me. In fact that would make a rather dull world if there was no debate, no argument (friendly argument, I must stress). Sometimes I can find myself more interested in things I so firmly disagree with that they anger me, things that make no sense to exist. Like this video for example...

I'll let you all form your own opinions of that one! It is, nonetheless, very interesting to me regardless of my general hatred towards that concept. Likewise, I'm about that start reading The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. I'm not the greatest fan of old Richie, but the fact that his theories have influenced the world drastically is interesting to me, and makes me want to at least be informed as to his beliefs before I continue to dislike him.

I think it is just flattering that something I have created myself, from my own little mind, can provoke thoughts and feelings in other people. If my writing stirs up in you no emotions whatsoever, that would worry me more. Whether you agree with me or not, if it's made you think that is all I can ask for.

Spanish Life

So, I think it's about time I tell you about Barcelona.

The streets I may one day call home...

It's a tricky place to write about because it is, more or less, everything you would expect from a Spanish city. The way of life there is pure pleasure-seeking; laid back, rustic and a little rough around the edges, but all the more beautiful for it.

A guy I met from America had plenty to say how it was different from his city back home, LA. I've never been to that part of the US but as far as he could describe, the focus is on money, and what it can buy. The reason Barcelona seemed so different to him was that it consumed in different ways. People in BCN indulge in things to satisfy their human needs, the best food and wine and the finest company to enjoy it with. It didn't seem that these Catalans were collecting material goods to raise their social status.

Truth is, I did very little sight-seeing whilst I was there, having been a couple of times before. I feel a touch guilty for that but to be honest, Barcelona was the break I needed from various things at home. It was a week long non-stop party-fest. The sangria went down far too smooth in the bar at the bottom of our hostel, Hello BCN.



A pasta parlour we found
with some inventive lighting



I've never found it so difficult to leave a place. I even sat there on my last day looking up rooms to rent and figuring out how much it would cost for me to live there, and when the hell I could do it. I'm taking up Spanish lessons as soon as possible.

I don't think this will be the last I see of this gorgeous Spanish city. I didn't do much sight-seeing but I certainly wandered my way through the streets imagining living in a tiny apartment above a tea house, sitting on my terrace and writing this very blog. One day...

A week to remember...

This post is a bit of an exclusive one for all those incredible people I met over the past week in the Spanish gem of Barcelona. Yes, that's where I've been!

It is funny to think that just over a week ago, all but one of these people were complete strangers to me from all corners of the globe. And yet they have all contributed to one hell of a week in one hell of a city.

Posts on Barcelona to follow, but just a quick message out to all you guys (for the rest of you, this is a bit of an inside joke).

Wherever you go, whatever you do, and until the next time I see you, I love you all and...

Don't be scared.

Likemindedness

It seems I have found someone who shares in my belief system...

This is the Holstee Manifesto. Whilst I am sure that many of you are sitting there grumbling at this, at times, unutterably cheesy piece of promotion for life, I have to say that I couldn't agree more.

And to those I say, what's the worst that could happen? Granted if you go at it full pelt, spend all your savings partying around the world you could find yourself in a gutter somewhere with a perpetual hangover, so an amount of responsibility does need to be practiced. It just doesn't make sense in my head, however, why people continually sit there and settle for a job or lifestlye that just get's them by, dragging themselves out of bed to do something they hate.

I have to put my hand up and say that I've sat in jobs I despise, but they were short-term means to an end. I set a date when I know I'd leave, taking the risk of coming home from travelling with no prospects of a career whatsoever.

The fact remains that I don't live to work, I work to live. And one of these days my work will be what I love to do, and I am very lucky to be on the right track towards making that dream a reality. But I have found this track because of the work I've put in to not settle for second best.

I'm not a religious person. I'd say I'm spritual and have faith in each one of us as individuals to be able to drive our own life forward and achieve our goals. All I can truly know is that I'm here and alive and that's the only tangible thing I can be sure of about my existence.

I don't know what's on the other side, beyond my life. But that is the very reason why I can't let myself not live in the here and now. If I don't believe in the after life and I've been given a shot on this planet, this is my only chance to live it. (Try not to take that in a morbid direction, the other way is much more fun I swear.)

I realise in life sometimes we have to do things we don't enjoy, sit working in a job we don't like or sacrifice things we really don't want to. But doing these things to work towards your goals can be forgiven, whether it's working in a job you dislike to save up to go globe-trotting or buy a house; compromising with a loved one so you can continue to love them more; giving up those tasty treats to achieve a healthier lifestyle (although I don't condone this one fully, a girl's gotta eat).

As long as you're still focused on your dreams, then reality can mix in perfectly well.

Idealistic existentialist rant over.

(On a side note, do check out Holstee's website, sustainable design products and a whole lotta' love.)

Leaving on a jet plane

Next week, I'm hopping on a place again. But to where?! Oh, you'll find out. That is for another post.

I've taken a fair few flights in my life, and each and every time I still find myself squidging my nose up against those thick windows and taking a look at the ant-world below. That or nonchalantly leaning over the stranger sat next to me to try and grab a glance.

There is still something just so unutterably magical about being able to see a city or landscape from the sky above. Even at night when those city lights are twinkling, I sit there and consider all those thousands of people tucked up in their beds, or out seeing friends, or meeting the love of their lives (you old romantic you Emma) or all those people alone tonight.

So, in the spirit of that, here are 10 amazing views from airplanes, I'm just putting my favourites up. I'll leave it up to you to guess locations. The second one might be a bit tricky but let's just say it's my next big destination...

To write or to type?

I wrote a letter this morning. It's been a while. In my late teens I was notorious for writing notes and scribble to various friends (some utterly cringeworthy and have in recent years been destroyed by the recipients; for this I am glad). My oldest friend and I have exchanged letters since we were about five, and continue to do so as it seems to be the only way we are ever able to stay connected, regardless of having each other's phone numbers. I won't go into detail as to the subject of this morning's letter, but instead take a minute to appreciate the act.

In the process of contemplating this, I came across a website called Letters of Note, a beautiful archive full of correspondance, some even dating back to hundreds of years ago. Not only are there the expected letters of love and loss, telegrams and faxes are also thrown into the mix, but for now I might ignore these (as sympathetic as I am towards Pearl Harbour and the Titanic, the telegrams announcing the commencement of each disaster are not the inspiration of this post).

I am interested in the hand-written exchanges, once personal and now displayed all over the web, between intimate lovers and friends. Nosey eh? The first I came across on this website still remains my favourite, even after much browsing. It takes a while to read, but the account of Aldous Huxley's death, written by his wife Laura to his older brother Julian, is an incredible insight into the end of a life.

Just take a second to consider if this will ever be the case for the email. Do you think there will ever be an 'Emails of Note' website, dedicated to the conversings via the world wide web? Doesn't really have the same charm about it does it?

A letter just seems so much more intimate; the combustable, tanglible and delicate packaging of these words remind you of it's mortality. When you delete an email from your inbox, it is fed into a 'deleted items' folder. The delete button is only the first step towards destroying those words, and you have to consciously go into a 'deleted items' folder and eradicate them all for eternity. If a piece of paper were to be destroyed, it would not be possible to pick up the ashes and read them again.

Emails seem so more off-the-cuff. Genuine thought and consideration goes into a letter, with time taken to ensure it is legible and clear. Often littered with edits and scribbles, a letter portrays the writer's thought process in it's creation. I don't know if anyone can really say they have put their heart and soul into an email as much as they might do a hand-written exchange.

I guess it also links to our awareness of the internet and it's public nature. Whilst our email inbox is protected via our password, it still doesn't seem to entirely belong to us, and I always get the feeling that anyone could stumble upon my online correspondance.

Having said that, it's easier to hack into a bed-side table to find a letter than a computer to read an email.

The future of our social lives

I recently found this amusing poster somewhere in the depths of cyberspace and it got me thinking...

Is this a vision of our future?

Whilst sitting in the pub a few weeks back with two of my friends, a waiter commented on the fact we were all sat there on our phones and not talking to each other. One of my friends thinks that this is what future generations will consist of, groups of people sat together in a seemingly social gathering, and yet all communicating with various other people via mobile phones.

When you put it like that, it seems like such a strange thing to do. Why go and meet up with your friends and then decide to talk to some other people that are not present instead? Is there some kind of allure that goes with the idea of having so little time that your social occasions must overlap and you need at least two or three on the go at any one time?

And yet, I find myself texting people just for a chat even when I'm with a group of friends. Not because I find the current company dull, but it just seems like people crop up in my mind that I haven't spoken to for a while and a 'no time like the present' approach is the way I take it.

I think my favourite point that this poster effectively protests against is illustrated but the section 'At no time is it permissable to sit idle and observe the poetry of life or look into the eyes of another person'. We are so much attached to the world that our mobile phones create, switching between texts, Facebook apps, messenger apps and the latest funny photo a friend has sent, completely oblivious to our surroundings.

And so much can pass us by! I have to say, one charm of travelling is that I don't tend to have my phone with me a lot, for fear of rinsing my bank account. This allowed me to take in the world around me, soaking up views and sights whilst sitting on the bus or sat in the window of a coffee shop.

I often find the same thing goes for cameras. When you find yourself in a new place, of course you will want to snap away and make sure you capture the moment to look back on. However, it can often be very easy to see something you want to remember, quickly take a shot and then abandon the sight altogether. I sometimes find myself hardly taking the image in with my own eyes.

And so, with that, I challenge you all to let go of these handheld devices and take a moment to enjoy the company that surrounds you at present, or bask in the scenery with the built in camera you have been blessed with, your eyes.

(Could go one of two ways. You leave you phone alone and then come back to it and have a million messages and missed calls; winner. Or, none at all, which can be ever so slightly devestating. I'll leave you to decide whether you want to take the risk.)

At the end of the rainbow there are E numbers...

Once voted the best website of 2006 (fact I found on her 'about' section, I'll have to trust that it's accurate) I feel ashamed to have only just discovered not martha.

Heaped with arty archives, anything to keep restless hands at bay to create anything they desire.

The first page I came across was this sugary delight; Leprechaun Trap Cake.

It doesnt even look like cake; more like a weird centrepiece in some Alice in Wonderland wedding. Go onto the not martha page for an explaination of what a 'leprechaun trap' actually is, I shall not pinch material so shamelessly.

Watch this space for my own attempt of baking this cake... I'll try to keep it away from any children in fear of overloading them with sugar.

Interesting research or a waste of time?

For any of lovers of the weird and wonderful world we live in, have a peep at this video. It's from a show called 'Ants: Nature's Secret Power' and illuminates us as to what exactly does go on under our feet in the in a ant colony.

Relative to their size, these ants have created miles and miles of twists and turns, tunnels and chambers. To exposed this intricate city, the scientists had to pour ten tonnes of concrete down into the earth for four days, and then wait over a month before they could start digging the soil away around it. It completely blows my mind how something we would consider so insignificant as an ant, could form an army to create such a thing.

Now, as well as being interesting in itself, the comments that went along with this video on the website I found it discuss the bigger picture to this project. It seems this has triggered debates concerning the existence of God vs. mother nature, evolution and creationism, unnecessary cruelty or research in the name of science.

A few of the comments did in fact point out the ant hill was abandoned before it was pumped full of concrete. I'm sure they wouldn't mercilessly flood them out!

And what do you think? A waste of time? An incredible discovery? Proof of a designer or just a statement of evolution?

A Good Cause

Those of you with generous hearts should be aware that my darling brother and another close friend of mine are running the London Marathon in aid of Baby Lifeline on April 17th.

The charity is more or less self-explanatory in it's name - a much needed life line for babies and mothers.

To donate, go to either (or preferably both...) of these pages below:

http://www.justgiving.com/mike-nesbitt
http://www.justgiving.com/jameshiggins

Next time you travelling a long distance with a SatNav, sit there and see how long it takes you to drive 26.2 miles. Then, think of these poor fellows running it all.

After that, imagine the physical and emotional pain relieved by the work that Baby Lifeline does; pain much more than myself, James, or Mikey could ever comprehend.

On that note, give 'em some dosh! Call it your good deed for the day.

Mapping out the future

For all those fellow travellers out there stuck at home, if you don't have maps in your life already, get some. I find them the most therapeutic way to look forward to all those places I have yet to discover.

If you're looking for a beautiful map to be proud of for you home, I fully recommend The Future Mapping Company. Sleek, shiny, clear and huge, the map below adorns my wall. It has taken me a number of years to pluck up the courage to mark out the places I had been, for fear of piercing it's stunning exterior. However, with the help of some skinny map pins I came across, it has now been littered (show off) with my visited locations. I stare up at it before I go to bed, so I'm fully focused. Whilst I'm proud of all the places I've been, looking up at this reminds me of all the places I am yet to go.

I also have a little map pinned up on my desk at work, just for those moments where I think my work will never end.

I'm not gunna lie to you, Wales is crackin'

A few weekends ago on a Friday afternoon, I made the long journey to a little town called Porthcawl, just outside Cardiff. I've been to Wales a handful of times in my life, including an sixth form outdoor weekend that I loathed to attend at the time, and now wish I had been more enthusiastic about it all; oh how I've changed.

Wales has since become my happy place; visiting my friends there has always brought me peace, no matter what's going back home. This weekend was no exception. Not the kind of people to party away their bank accounts, having just married last year and looking to build a life independently, Katie and Rhod (guess who's Welsh...) had created a  perfect getaway space for me to escape to from time to time.

I have known Katie since I was seven, terrifyingly enough. So myself and Judy, another friend from school, tootled down the M5 for some good wholesome fun. On our first day, we took a breathtaking walk along the Southerndown for a long awaited chat. We were incredibly lucky with the weather; it felt like a beautiful spring day. This clearly meant the next stop was to dip our feet in the close by sea. (I think it's some kind of law that you need to get your toes wet if you're from the Midlands and find yourself near the sea.)

Next, a spot of high tea at Ogmore Tea Rooms, which is essentially someone's house with a converted front room. It was particularly busy when we arrived, so we were instructed to sit at the kitchen table. A little strange, but very accomodating and fantastic value. I had a sneaky view into the kitchen to watch a busy chef prepare some delicious home-cooked food; everything you could want from a tea room was present. Two crumpets, a piece of lemon drizzle cake and a whole pot of earl grey tea later, I was in a contented haze.

To top off our day, Katie had no choice but to take us to Barry Island and I found myself on an unofficial guided tour of the set of Gavin & Stacey. For those of you not familiar with it, it is British culture through and through; a must watch. For those of you who are,  I purchased a tea towel from Nessa's arcade emblazoned with 'I'm not gunna lie to you, Barry Island's crackin'', and was obliged to proclaim 'Oh!' in the very spot Ruth Jones did. Needless to say, Katie was fairly ashamed of me.

On the Sunday, Katie and Rhod attend their church in Porthcawl, Grace Commuinity. As many of my friends know, my religious beliefs are ambiguous. However, I thought if I'm happy to attend a temple on top of a hill in India, I should have no qualms with going to church in Wales. I wanted to experience something so close to the hearts of Katie and Rhod, a good enough reason to go I think. And, it was a much more enjoyable than the hangover I usually feel on a Sunday morning.

I used to attend church back home, so I knew what to expect, and I have to say it was a nice experience. It is a relatively new church without a building of their own; they use a sixth form centre at the local school. Even though I have no personal ties with Christinity, it was interesting to see how this small community of people are full of hope to build and expand, and I even felt a shiver of excitement for them as it clearly bought so much joy to their lives.

On a side note, I found this interesting article this morning about incense in churches (of course not used in the Church of England, more of a Catholic ritual). Maybe I'll start attanding more for incense's psychadelic influences...

Breathing in the fresh air of Wales, regardless of attending church, invigorates me. The connection I have with this part of Britain will always keep it as a place of refuge and to discover the great outdoors. I will always thank my friend Katie for moving there.

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What more can I say? I StumbledUpon ShareSomeCandy.com today and I think I've found my safe haven.

They probably have all I could possibly want from a website; dabbling in everything from architecture to graffiti, handmade art to a whole section dedicated to funky packaging.

The first page I came across showed a photography portfolio of incredibly dapper looking bearded men taken by a photographer named Dave Mead. Businessmen, fisherman, yodelers, shepherds, country folk and matadors. All with fine faces of hair styled to perfection.

If Stumble had an "I friggin' love it" button, it would surely be pressed.