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  • The Most Beautiful Villages in France

    As you may know, I've lived in Limoges, France for almost four years. I arrived slap bang in the middle of the pandemic and haven't looked back since. Before arriving in this small, unassuming town, I admit, I had no idea where it was on a map. When I, like most people, think of France I conjure up images of the Eiffel Tower, the Seine and the shining lights of Paris. Or perhaps people think of the wine and the Mediterranean beaches on the Cote d'Azur like Nice or Saint Tropez. But I'm here to tell you that France is so much more than that! What are the Most Beautiful Villages in France? France is NOT just Paris. In my almost four years in France, I've been lucky enough to travel to many different regions in France and I can assure you that each has its own specific identity and culture. Limoges, which is located in the Nouvelle-Aquitaine region, is the largest city in the Haute Vienne department. I'm going to be doing a series on things to see and do in and around Haute Vienne, but today, I'd like to talk about our neighbouring department, Corrèze. Situated in south-central France, Corrèze is one of the smaller departments in France and is home to six of the most beautiful villages in France. To join this elite club competition is high and to qualify you must meet no less than 32 criteria to become part of this elite club such as a maximum population of 2,000 inhabitants, homogeneity in the colour and style of roofs and outward appearance of buildings, and also have at least two historical monuments that the town is dedicated to preserving. My partner and I visited four villages this year and I'm going to rank them and tell you why you need to add them to your French travel list. Beaulieu Sur Dordogne The first village that we visited was Beaulieu-Sur-Dordogne. A 90-minute drive from Limoges city centre, this village is a must-see. Nicknamed by some as the 'Limousin Riviera' this extraordinary medieval village truly deserves its spot on the list. A recent addition to the list, in 2022, Beaulieu Sur Dordogne, which translates as 'Beautiful place on the Dordogne' lives up to its name. The village is nestled next to the river Dordogne and is very accessible and extremely walkable- we managed to see pretty much the whole village in under one hour. The village pays homage to its history of resistance in World War 2, including the Adrienne Laquièze' memorial plaque, who helped save many Jewish people during the French occupation. I recommend visiting the Abbatiale Saint Pierre, which has an interactive section which tells you a lot about the history and restoration efforts over the past few years. In the summer I imagine that the village is filled with tourists and plenty of activities for the family to do such as the Fête de la fraise (Strawberry festival) which takes place in May and also water activities along the river Dordogne. Curemonte Known as the 'Village of Three' the village of Curemonte is only a 20-minute drive away from Beaulieu-sur- Dordogne. They say good things come in threes and tucked away in the French countryside, Curemonte is known for its three churches, castles, fountains and calvaries. Aesthetically, Curemonte was my favourite village to visit, and I was also charmed by a local village dog which may have influenced my decision. As it was the off-season, it was quiet. The village is also very walkable and has a beautifully preserved garden in the middle of the village, which is adorned with phrases from famous philosophers and is the perfect spot if you are seeking some tranquillity. Collonges-La Rouge The founding village of the "Les Plus Beaux Villages de France" association is Collonges-La Rouge. The most striking feature of the village is the vibrant red brick of the buildings and homes. This village felt quite familiar to me, as Manchester is known for its red brick structures. The vermillion brick colour is a natural phenomenon caused by a chemical reaction between limestone, sandstone and iron oxide. If you're a fan of photography then this village is perfect for you, at every turn you feel as though you could be walking through a postcard. The medieval village not only has beautiful landmarks but has lots of kitschy cafes and souvenir shops. I recommend Le Cantou which, is an authentic restaurant, cafe and boutique in the heart of the village. If you're a history buff or are just interested in living out your fairytale fantasy then head down and get lost in the cobblestone roads of Collonges- La Rouge. Turenne Our final stop of the day was Turenne which is a picturesque village built into the hilltop. Turenne is exactly what I would describe as a quintessential French village, the local brickwork is a beautiful honey, caramel colour. I would argue that Turenne is the most difficult terrain as it is on a steep incline. There are two paths to reach the top and of course, myself and my partner took the hard way. Climbing up the cobbled pathways was a challenge, I had to take a few breaks to catch my breath but it was worth it. The views from the hilltop are stunning and it reminded me of watching Emmerdale with my mum, the rolling hills and green landscape are truly breathtaking. At the time, construction was happening on the Chateau and the church, la Chapelle des Capucins, but usually, they're open to the public from March onwards in the year. There are some beautiful viewpoints in Turenne like Puy Barrymal and also the Tour du Calvaire. Conclusion The French countryside is truly stunning and if you're open to experiencing another side of France that isn't just the metro and packed museums then I definitely recommend trying a few of the beautiful villages in France. Currently, there are 176 villages across France hold this prestigious status so there's plenty of choice!

  • Review: Hood Feminism |Tash's Reading Nook

    March is women's history month and I thought there was no better way to start my reading nook series than to spotlight a book about intersectional feminism: "Hood Feminism: Notes From The Women White Feminists Forgot" by Mikki Kendall. The first time I heard about Hood Feminism was in 2020 as part of the wider discourse surrounding race and politics in the aftermath of the killings of George Floyd and Breona Taylor. At the time, I thought to myself " I don't need to read this book, I'm a Black feminist who is pretty clued up". I didn't see myself as the book's target audience. But four years later my opinion changed, and I decided to give reading it a go. Now, just as a trigger warning this book is heavy, Kendall doesn't sugarcoat anything. It is a raw examination of the lives and experiences of African-American women from the hood, particularly through anecdotal evidence and statistics. Kendall shares her own, often harrowing, experiences of growing up in the south side of Chicago and the lessons she has learned along the way ranging from topics such as gun violence, the adultification of Black girls, reproductive rights and housing disparity. I appreciated Kendall's writing style, the book is written academically, both critically and analytically yet it remains accessible. At the same time, Hood Feminism feels like a very personal book; each chapter pulls back the curtain into Kendall's lived experience, or the people around her as she references her children, her abusive first marriage and her grandparents. Source: Washington Post I also appreciated Kendall's acknowledgement of the struggles that the LGBTQIA community also face and how modern feminism can be selective when choosing who to fight for. Kendall reiterates that oppression is so ingrained that even in a movement that is fundamentally about the rights of all, each faction has a privilege that can be leveraged, arguing that "[W]hite women can oppress women of colour, straight women can oppress lesbian women, cis women can oppress trans women, and so on.", highlighting that we are all complicit in upholding the patriarchy, whether we are aware of it or not. Published in 2020, Kendall doesn't hold back in critiquing 21st-century feminism and how marginalised communities such as transwomen, disabled women and women in poverty are victims of multiple minorities and are faced with challenges such as misogynoir and implicit biases which further sideline them in a movement that is fundamentally meant to be inclusive for all. Kendall's central argument in the book places women of colour at the forefront of her work, which is a refreshing take to see in feminist literature and her work is underpinned by the notion that intersectionality, both acknowledgement and implementation, is necessary for feminism to work. Kimberlé Crenshaw coined the term in 1989 in which she describes how race, gender, class and other factors can overlap and intersect with one another. White feminism is often packaged as the only acceptable version of modern feminism and it doesn't take into account issues and fundamental rights that marginalised women may face. Kendall doubles down on the fact that the modern-day feminist movement remains fairly white in the first chapter "Solidarity is Still For White Women". Staunchly arguing that white feminism is often dismissive of the hurdles that non-white women have to face in their daily lives, Kendal doubles down that "the myth of the Strong Black Woman has made it so white women can tell themselves that it is okay to expect us to wait to be equal with them because they need it more". The stereotype of self-reliance and independence is especially damaging is it devalues the legitimacy of the struggles and concerns of women of colour, invoking a hierarchy of needs which further sidelines them onto the outskirts of the movement. Source: Unsplash Kendall's teachings can still be applied in 2024, taking the example of when Barbie director Greta Gerwig and Barbie lead Margot Robbie's seeming snubs in the best director and best actress categories was labelled "one of the biggest shocks in recent history" by the Associated Press (even though Gerwig was nominated for best screenplay). Gerwig's snub was deemed a feminist issue that all women should be enraged about, with the BBC, Time Magazine and the New York Times racing to cover this outrage. Vulture's Jen Chaney went as far as to suggest that if a man had made Barbie then he would have gotten a nomination. However, when African American actress Taraji P. Henson spoke out about the pay disparity that she had experienced as a Black actress working in Hollywood, not only a week earlier, few mainstream media outlets addressed this pervasive issue, despite both controversies highlighting the ingrained sexism and misogyny in Hollywood, signalling that there is still work to be done. Whilst being subversive in its critique of the feminist movement, "Hood Feminism" isn't a complete denigration, rather it appears hopeful in parts and offers up food for thought on how the movement can take on a more inclusive approach by acknowledging the suffering of all women not just centring on white cisgender womanhood. My main critique of the book is that as Kendall is writing about her lived experience in the USA, at times it felt as though the Black experience could only be viewed through the lens of an African American perspective. The 'hood' is not an exclusively American phenomenon and I would have liked to have seen some studies or data from a global perspective as the Black experience isn't monolithic. This book took me a while to get through, at 258 pages certain chapters are quite dense and require moments of reflection after reading. The chapter "Education" stuck with me. As a former teacher, feminism and education have always been intrinsically linked. In this chapter Kendall delves into the topic of institutionalised racism in the states, highlighting how early racial profiling can start in the education system and the long-lasting effects that can have on BIPOC communities, especially through the school-to-juvenile criminal pipeline. We can also see this in the British education system too with Black Caribbean students being three times more likely to be excluded than white pupils. When we think about intersectional feminism the first things that come to mind may be ethnic minority women being treated unequally, however, Kendall argues that intersectionality spans wider than this and issues such as education, mass incarceration for young Black men, bullying in schools are all intersectional feminist issues. "Hood Feminism" is a must-read for anyone who calls themselves a feminist. It isn't a comfortable read, particularly if you are not a BIPOC. Kendall pushed the boundaries and allowed to to question our definitions of feminism. Before reading this book I hadn't considered homelessness and food inequality as feminist issues. Kendall cleverly informs us as to how these topics beyond gender and sex are related to wider issues of inequality. Ultimately 'Hood Feminism" can be used as a teaching aid which pushes you to check your privilege(s), offering insight into an often overlooked perspective in mainstream feminism which can no longer be ignored if feminism wishes to be truly impactful.

  • Bonjour! Hola! Hi again!

    So it’s been a while. It’s been about 4 years since I last posted on this blog. The younger me had hoped to revamp it and transform it into something bigger once I graduated from university. I thought that I would have more time and energy to truly invest in the blog. Then covid hit. And a series of other unexpected hiccups. Sometimes life simply gets in the way. We fall in love, We break up, We make new friends, We grieve loved ones that we’ve lost, We move towns, cities or even countries, We yo-yo between feeling the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows, And we have quarter crises where we question everything. The list goes on. Eventually, things we deem a priority fall swiftly to the bottom of the list, in my case this happened to be my blog. In these past four years, so much has changed in my life. As a quick recap; I graduated from Durham University, I immediately moved abroad to France and began teaching English. Shortly after that came to an end I started working in digital marketing and now I’m here. My indefinite hiatus from blogging lasted a lot longer than I anticipated. I was very nervous to start writing online again. To be frank, I wasn’t sure if I still believed in the message that I was trying to convey when I started “Oui!Si!Yes” and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put myself out there again. After lots of rereading and editing the blog, I realised that I’d unintentionally constructed a digital diary, which was more confessional than I remember. The internet can be a scary place and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be that vulnerable again. I’m at a bit of a crossroads in my life right now and whilst I haven’t been publicly blogging for a while, I’ve continued to write. Whether that be scribbling down my thoughts in my notes app or journaling in random notebooks, I’ve always gravitated back to writing. I don’t think that it’s something that I’ll ever lose. I knew I wasn’t ready to let the blog go (I’ve been secretly renewing the domain name for the past four years), even if I have been too nervous to post anything. On a personal note, writing has always been cathartic for me. This blog is personal and I’m going to approach it as a tool for therapy. Oui!Si!Yes! is still a passion project, but I want to develop it further than just a travel blog. My blog is exactly that; mine. My tiny corner on the internet where I can vent, express myself, share my thoughts and ideas and maybe even inspire people. In the past four years, I’ve grown so much as a person and I’m still learning new things about myself each day. My biggest discovery is how multifaceted I am; I’m still so curious about the world and I didn’t think it was possible to be interested in so many things. In life, I feel like we’re often told to conform, to stick to one thing, and pushed into specialising whether that is work or studies. I realised that isn’t me and that’s okay. I want to talk about travel, living abroad, art, books, music, pop culture, life lessons, anything and everything. I don’t want to be bound to one niche. I have a lot to talk about and I want to use this space to do it. The Oui!Si!Yes! Philosophy is about putting yourself out there and saying yes to new opportunities. My goal is simply just to reconnect with my blog and put my thoughts down on (digital) paper and I’m looking forward to seeing where this journey takes me.

  • Black Lives Matter.

    Black Lives Matter. I have been debating with myself as to whether I should post something on my blog about the current climate of our world. I have written, rewritten and scrapped this post so many times. Honestly, at first, I didn't know what I could contribute to the conversation. I'm seeing so much information- key information and resources being diffused over all of my social media platforms. I was inspired by my friend Jenai to actually publish something. A week ago I figuratively put pen to paper in the notes sections of my phone. It was 3:07 am. This was beginning of a series of sleepless nights, the weight of everything that is happening in the world had rendered me restless and I suppose a combination of anxiety, fear and an overriding feeling of anger was preventing me from falling asleep. Writing has always been an outlet for me- yet I'm struggling to get my words out, illustrating my points and articulating my anger and frustration in a 'palatable' way. This is mainly because I don't have the energy to fight bigots, racists and the ignorant. There will always be someone who will trivialise the BLM movement, asking 'devil's advocate' questions and challenge the movement and their aims. I am not here to start a debate, nor to inflate your ego; human rights is not a debatable topic- Black lives do matter- that is not debatable. I asked myself "If you write a blogpost, who are you writing for? Is it for you? Other POC?' Upon further reflection, I realised that I would be aiming this post at white people. BAME do not need to be told how to recognise and resist racism- we have either seen it or experienced it first hand ourselves. I have resisted sharing my feelings about the protests and the fight against racism because I felt frustrated, I didn't want the burden of educating people to fall on BIPOC(Black, Indigenous people of colour), as it so often does. Bluntly I didn't feel as though it was my job to teach and educate adults about systemic racism. I find it disheartening to see my peers, many of who have attended top universities and have secured high-class degrees to remain either completely silent on the matter or show their ignorance. I have found myself in a classroom, being the only person of colour in that space, being automatically nominated as the spokesperson for all Black people. I saw a truly shocking statistic the other day- at my university, Durham, I was one of 114 Black undergrad students. There are 10,721 white undergrads. This is from a university which claims that they have a diverse and multi-national student body. To Durham and to all universities- if you really are championing diversity, you must do better, be better and put in the work. There is no need that in 2020, Black students only make up 1.06% of your undergrad population. 'If you write a blogpost, who are you writing for? Is it for you? Other POC? It's really for White People'. Over the past two weeks, social media has overwhelmed me. Overwhelmed is perhaps an understatement. It has emotionally and mentally burned me out. I find myself vacillating between days of sharing a plethora of information, signing petitions and donating to causes and other days I delete all of my apps. Undertaking the emotional labour of spreading information and effectively educating adults becomes too much. Social media is a distorted place- where we can escape from our realities- I know that I'm seeing a highlight reel of everyone's most exciting, highly edited realities. That's what I sign up for- the best parts. However, reality has permeated into our social media- which of course I cannot denounce but it is so important now, more than ever that we use our individual platforms to highlight what is happening, speak up and share information. Nevertheless, for Black people, seeing violent images of members of our community being brutally murdered, harassed, hearing that another Black person has been the victim of police brutality, targeted- even seeing the ignorant comments surrounding these issues is exhausting. It is traumatising. Hearing all lives matter as a response to Black Lives Matter, really trivialises our existence. No-one is saying all lives do not matter, of course they do- but we're focusing on bringing attention to Blak lives right now- not because they're more important but because they are systematically being oppressed and disproportionately targetted by law enforcement and in wider society. Repeatedly seeing our own people being demeaned, subjugated and assassinated can take its toll on your psyche. It is not normal. It should not become normalised. I have to admit when I heard about Breonna Taylor and Arnaud Arbery I was angry but not surprised. Years of hearing about police brutality in the U.S, seeing these cases become another hashtag had disgustingly been reduced to me as something that was to be expected. It isn't. I have to emphasise that this is not just an American problem, it is an international problem- and I am so disappointed and disheartened at times to see people, those who are deemed academically intelligent make baseless points and remarks, showcasing their ignorance and reinforcing the idea that racism is everyone's problem and it exists everywhere, even amongst the most academically gifted. You may have a degree, masters or PhD but a lot of these people lack real-world awareness and common sense. There is a lot of miseducation and lack of awareness of racism in my own country- I have seen people argue that Britain doesn't have race problem due to our multiculturalism. I have seen and heard the most absurd justifications for keeping statues which glorify racists. I have seen how the media distorts the truth. I have seen people share only half-truths, melding reality to suit them. The fact that we have a notoriously racist and bigoted Prime Minister who has no understanding/ connection to the real world, who time and time again has shown his blatant racism, he has come out and said that he doesn't believe that Britain is racist, is appalling to me. One the one hand, their ignorance is fuelled by the skewed and distorted history that we teach in our schools- there is a notable absence of information regarding 'how' we became 'Great' Britain. We have erased a narrative surrounding imperialism and colonisation- we are taught endlessly about the 'Golden Era' of Britain, the Tudors and our victories of the World Wars, however, we aren't taught about British colonies and the irreparable and long-lasting damages that Britain has done to countries in the Caribbean, India and Pakistan- an inordinate amount of countries. This 'non-racist' Britain which illegally deported hundreds of the Windrush generation, failed to thoroughly investigate the Grenfell tragedy which disproportionately affected BAME and elected an openly racist and bigoted Prime Minister. This country is founded upon hardships and contributions of immigrants and ethnic minorities, yet we are so eager to declare that we do not have 'race problem' like in the USA. There is a huge erasure of ethnic minorities in the discourse surrounding the World Wars- it was not just the contributions of white British soldiers who helped win the war. We don't highlight the contributions of Black British, Polish and Indian soldiers during Remembrance Day in the same way that we do White British soldiers. This divisive and racist rhetoric has been regurgitated time and time again throughout the years, more recently surrounding the discussion Brexit and immigration. The world's reaction to George Floyd's death is indicative of potential change on the horizon. On the one hand, I have seen friends, family and former colleagues, who I wouldn't have expected to speak out about racism, supporting the protests and even actively engaging in research, self-education. On the other hand, I have seen friends, former co-workers and classmates remain silent- whilst continuing to leech and profiteer from the 'desirable' parts of black culture. I have heard people say that they are scared of saying the wrong thing so they don't say anything at all. They fear being called out for making a mistake. But silence is complicity. To my white peers who aren't speaking out, who aren't educating themselves, you don't get to use me as a get out of jail free card. I am not your 'Black friend/neighbour/classmate' that excuses your silence. When you don't speak out against something that is indisputably wrong- you are on the wrong side, in the case of racism you are on the side of the oppressor. In order to learn, of course, people will make mistakes- silence is cowardice and a privilege. Racism is everyone's problem and it exists everywhere. Racism is a deeply complex and multilayered social problem- one that we cannot all agree on. In terms of racism, many people define it as discrimination based on the colour of your skin. This is an over-simplistic definition for a system of oppression which contains so many complexities. This definition leads people to argue 'What about reverse racism? POC can be racist to white people too'. Wrong. Of course, POC can discriminate and make comments about white people and other ethnic minorities based on their skin colour. There is no doubt about that- I have seen and heard it happen. However, this is not the same thing. Racism is a system which is upheld by white power, and ethnic minorities do not have the power to systemically enforce regulations and create a paradigm in which white people are demeaned and debased simply because of the colour of their skin. Globally, in almost every nation and country there has been some interference in politics in which whiteness is regarded as paramount and something to aspire to. Within ethnic communities, these falsehoods are the basis of colourism and discrimination within our own communities. What we can agree on is that it's not good enough not speaking up. Angela Davies said it is not enough to be non-racist, we need action and for people to be anti-racist. I wanted to briefly talk about performative activism, which is what I fear that these events might be provoking. I'm seeing a lot about 'allyship' and how to become a 'good ally' towards the Black community. Whilst I see a lot of people making efforts to learn and educate themselves, diversifying their social media feeds and amplifying black voices, learning to dismantle a system that is so deeply engrained and learned is difficult and at times you are going to mess up. Myself included. I have told myself that it is not me who needs to be the primary focus of re-educating myself- as a young Black British woman my experiences have taught me a lot- however, I myself do make mistakes in my journey of understanding racism. Let's take the #blackouttuesday movement. I was complicit in sharing a black square, I posted a caption alongside which I felt encompassed my feelings at the time. However seeing a medley of Black squares on my feed only fuelled the notion that these actions, mine included were not really making a difference. I feel like a lot of people who participated, didn't understand the origins or intentions behind the day. It was a social media blackout- meaning it was a day to step away from Instagram, Twitter and Facebook- even Spotify and really take the time to digest and educate yourself. However as soon as a I saw the 'impact' of the black square- and different people's interpretations and reasonings for posting it, I realise that the meaning had been lost. Now I'm not saying that you need to post about every book that you've read- I don't need to know that you've read all of Toni Morrison's bibliography and read Martin Luther King's 'I Have a Dream Speech'. Yes, actions do speak louder than words but I really want people to think about the information that they are sharing- who are you sharing it for? And why are you sharing it? I don't want to sound contradictory because earlier I have praised people from sharing information about the protests and the BLM movement, what I am now questioning is people's inherent intentions. Did you post that Black square because you felt the pressure from your friends and family to not appear 'racist' on your social media channels? Have you actively used your voice to call out racism when you've seen it- in the comments of a YouTube video, Facebook post or when a POC is being harassed in public? Acknowledging that Black lives matter and sharing a black square is the bare minimum- and I would argue that it's pointless if you did it without real care, interest or regard for Black lives and active dismantling of racism. I have seen so many people share a black square- yet remain silent about the true issue at hand. This type of self-serving, performative activism is not welcome in this movement- we can do without it. This type of "activism" extends not only from old school friends and co-workers but on a larger scale- from corporations and companies who are cashing in on and capitalising the BLM movement to protect their brand, ie.  ** L'Oreal** and their horrific treatment of Munroe Bergdorf. Racism is a difficult thing to confront, a lot of non-POC are finding it uncomfortable to have these conversations with friends and family, yet take a moment to consider how it feels to be a BIPOC and experience it. I have had to check my own privilege- yes I am a Black woman but I have had a lot of support and yes privileges in my life (i.e. a supportive two-parent, financially stable household, grammar school and Russell Group educated, live in a suburban, safe area). I have also had to re-evaluate and examine my own experiences in times when I haven't spoken up for myself and called out casual racism. The fact that 'casual' racism exists is a problem within itself. I have seen white family members express apathy towards the BLM movement- what I say to you is that you can't have it both ways- you can't love my nanna's rice and peas, jerk chicken, love our music and your Black significant other but not stand up for a cause that affects your black family members. My family; myself, my cousins are not 'tolerable' versions of Black people. If you don't stand with Black people, you don't stand with us. Enough said. In academic spaces I am used to being the only or one of the few non-white faces, I come from majority white friendship groups and in wider society I have dealt with the micro-aggressions of being treated like a petting zoo when I wear my hair out natural, being repeatedly called the names of my other Black/mixed race female classmates, at both high school and university. People have assumed that my friend Jenai is my sister when really, despite looking dissimilar, different accents and having different surnames all we have in common is that our family heritage is Jamaican. I have seen myself police my own language, take care to not be 'too much' too outspoken and loud for fear or representing the caricatured 'ratchet, loud and aggressive Black girl'. In many ways I have conformed to these wider societal conventions- I have implicitly allowed these micro-aggressions to continue as I have gotten older and more educated- not necessarily from schooling perspective, but educated in real-life experiences- I have learned to use my voice to call things out. I still am tentative at times- perhaps which is why I have taken so long to put pen to paper (figuratively), but I can't become part of the problem and as emotionally exhausting this can be, I know that I have to speak up. My cousin Mya said something very poignant the other day- I told her I was feeling emotionally and mentally drained from seeing the violence ensuing at the protests. She told me that it is okay for me to take a step back and to breathe- that as a community even if one person needs a time out, it is important that we take the time to heal and recover- there will always be someone fighting our corner. Last weekend I was guilt-tripping myself for not attending the protests in Manchester, despite not attending because I'm visiting a vulnerable person in my family regularly. Now I know that one person cannot take this load- we will fight and overcome and dismantle it as a community, there are many channels and paths to take in order to fight against racism- all of which are powerful. In terms of longevity, when I initially wrote this post I was sceptical as to whether so-called changes to society will be adopted. Yet in the past week, after seeing the toppling of the Colston statue and actions to defund police departments, I think I can allow myself to believe in a glimmer of hope. I pray that George Floyd's death does not become lost and forgotten, adding to the long list of names and hashtags, we have seen rioting and protesting before in America, six years in Ferguson after the death of Michael Brown Jr. We've seen it in the 90s, 80s, 70s, 60s, from the dawn of time. These images of police brutality are not new- I've been consuming a lot of media from the past, researching Black people and pan African identity in the past year, mainly for my university studies but also from a place of curiosity. Seeing images on the news of protesters being referred to as thugs and anarchists, being attacked by police are not new- it seems as is these images from documentaries can be transposed from the 60s or 70s, the difference now is that they are colourised and the police are more weaponised. I understand some Black people's concerns and doubts about this sudden burst of allyship and interest in the movement, I understand and respect your concerns. However, I am choosing to remain hopeful, I know that myself and the genuine people around me will always continue to speak out against racism and injustice- if you felt targeted or triggered by my words then perhaps you need to re-evaluate your stance and position in this movement. There's so much to say on this topic- more than I can encompass in one blogpost. Learning never stops- we are all in a position to educate, share and grow. With the internet at our fingertips, our generation the ones to follow have no excuse to remain ignorant. So I will end this post as I began, Black Lives Matter. No debate. No contest. Our lives matter.

  • A Parisian Bucket List (part 2)

    And so, the list continues... 16. Visit Galeries Layfette I was really lucky to experience Paris in both the Summer and the Winter. Paris at Christmas time is truly magical- I visited my friends last December and I was desperate to see Galerie Lafayette- especially its free rooftop with an amazing view of the city. It's a bit pricey for me- as it's filled with luxury brands- more of an up market Trafford Centre! 17. Visit Jardin du Tuileries properly with a book and baguette I love Jardin du Tuileries, it's one of my favourite gardens in Paris but its always crowded because no-one in Paris can actually afford an apartment and a garden! Nonetheless it's a really nice place to sit and chill. 18. Musée d’Orsay This has to be my favourite museum in Paris- even more than the Louvre. Musée d'Orsay used to be a railway train station. I visited twice- they had some of Van Gogh's works in the permanent collection and I even wrote my French Year Abroad Project on their exhibition on "Le Modèle Noir (The Black Model)". 19. Go to Versailles on Friday night and watch the fireworks I have such fond memories of visiting Versailles with my friend Richard- that night we really bonded with one another, meandering through the neatly pruned French Gardens. I would say that seeing the fireworks and the music show in Versailles is definitely worth it. Versailles is rich in history and it is the epicentre of luxe and French decadence. 20. Go to a spoken word night at Au chat noir (near Parmentier)- not on in August but starts again September 3rd (free entry and €1 exit fee) A few weeks ago I went to a Spoken Word night which I have been dying to go to. It was a free event which happens every Monday evening. It was a really inclusive environment- everyone is welcome to share their own poetry or to read poems from their favourite artists. It reminded me of my school years where I participated in Poetry by Heart Competitions. If you fancy a night of poetry and fun head down to Au Chat Noir- the drinks are cheap and there are so many different poets, there's something for everyone. 21. Do a walking tour of Montmartre and follow the steps of Amèlie Poulain (Sit and have a coffee at les Deux moulins where Amèlie was filmed)- I wrote a whole blogpost on this topic which I'll leave a link too. 22. Go and experience open-air cinema as part of the summer festival in Paris. 19th arrondissement A work colleague told me about the annual open air cinema festival at Parc de la Villette in Northern Paris each summer. It's a free event and there are a range of films- different genres so there is something for every taste. My friend Jake and I went o see Almodovar's "Atame" (Time me Up, Tie me Down) in Spanish with French subtitles- at the time it was super difficult to keep up with. It's a great opportunity to have a picnic- there are lots of international films- it was one of my highlights from last summer! 23.Explore the hipster area of Belleville a little more- Parc de Belleville I can actually say now that I lived in the Belleville neighbourhood of Paris- it's an extremely ethnically and culturally diverse area. Not far from my house is the Parc du Belleville- when I first arrived back in Paris this summer I made a bee-line to Parc du Belleville to journal. It's such a nice park and not too overpopulated by tourists. Belleville is full of street art too- which I'm always on the hunt for. The 11th arrondissement is becoming extremely gentrified- pros and cons to this- yet with it comes a lot of diversity and choice for young people. 24. Have a great hip hop night out I have had quite a few good nights out in Paris over the past two summers. Some of my favourite spots are Wanderlust, in the 13th arrondissement- which does amazing themed nights. I've been to a Brazilian Funk night, they do Soul Nights and also hip hop music. I have also been to the Moulin Rouge quite often, they have a nightclub called Le Machine, which is a little pricey but so much fun. 25. Wander through the Paris Passages i.e. Galerie Vivienne, Passage de Panoramas, Galerie Vero-Dodat and Passage Colbert One Saturday I stumbled upon Galerie Vivienne,it was like a stroke of fate- I wasn't searching for it yet it had been on this bucket list for around a year. I then decided, heck I have a whole day to myself- why not find the other two. There isn't anything too groundbreaking about these three Arcades. They are filled with independent shops; some on the pricier side but still fun to see. 26. Visit La Saint Chappelle Church I visited this iconic church during last years Journée du Patrimonies- I'll leave a link to my post all about it. 27. Visit Pere Lachaise Cemetery Again I wrote a whole post on my visit to Pere Lachaise Cemetery last summer which is linked here: 28. Visit la Promenade Plantée I can't quite remember why Promenade Plantée was on my list- I think I read it in a guidebook. It's nothing extradorinaiy but a nice park in the 12th arrondissement. If you're in the area I would recommend giving it a visit, but likewise there are so many parks in Paris, this one isn't anything special. 29. Order a pink flamingo pizza on the seine I really wanted to do this before the weather got bad in Paris but I couldn't. Oh well- maybe next summer! 30. Do a tour of the catacombs I recently visited the catacombs- it was one of the most surreal and disturbing things I'v ever done. It's a little discomforting seeing all of those bones piled onto of one another. I found it easier to imagine the bones as part of the architecture rather than the reality that they are human remains. If you're into the morbid and macabre this would be right up your alley- I would recommend purchasing an audio guide to get specific information. However I do think that it is something to see- but try and book your tickets in advance- don't be like me and wait 90 minutes in the queue!

  • Random moments of Happiness: Valencia Edition

    It's no secret that when I first moved to Valencia I had a hard time adjusting to this new life. Even though now I can look back fondly on my time living in sunny Spain, I have often alluded to the not so facile times. Yet, there were also many times throughout the year where I experienced this glimmers of elation; times where I felt truly happy these moments. Now this list is not in chronological order, however these experiences are some of the highlights that I had during my time in Valencia. Beach day at El Saler If you follow my Instagram account (Ouisiyestash) then you'll already know that I had many a beach day during my time in Spain. However this one was different. It was the Monday after my granddad died. I had Mondays off work but I always used them as my organisation day to do my food shopping, lesson planning as well as teaching my private classes. I had landed back in VLC from my Lisbon trip early that morning and I'd already planned my lessons the week in advance. I was still feeling totally drained from that weekend- despite being away on holiday I was emotionally worn out. My friends suggested that I take the day off and head to the beach. It was a warm May afternoon and I normally would have protested and found something 'productive' to do but I actually welcomed the idea of taking a break and having some alone time. El Saler is a quieter and less touristy beach in comparison to the bustling city beach of Malvarossa. That Monday afternoon the beach was really quiet- only a handful of people scattered on the beach. I had made a packed lunch for myself an brought a book and my headphones along with me. I spend the afternoon engaging with no-one but myself; I listened to podcasts and music and I finally decided to go for a swim in the sea. This is a huge deal for me; as a kid I had no qualms about swimming- I was a fully fledged water baby. As I've gotten older I realised that I'm someone who doesn't like to get my hair wet- this seems like such a trivial thing but trust me as soon as a drop of salt water hits my head it's game over. But on that day, it didn't seem to matter to me. I dived into the sea- embracing the rawness of the waves. I allowed myself to let go of all of my anxieties and my sadness. I let myself cry as I swam- I let myself get my hair wet and dived under water. I splashed, I laughed, cried and let out a sigh of relief that I was letting my emotions out finally. On a pretty much empty beach. I was quite liberating. I didn't have to hold it together anymore- it was like reconnecting with myself again. Eurovison Mayhem I love Eurovision- I love the tackiness of it, the cheesy euro-pop, the campness and of course all of the drama. It's been more intense now due to the U.K's contentious relationship with the rest of Europe- who lets be honest never really liked our Eurovision acts even in the pre-Brexit era. I'd been planning a super over the top house party for Eurovision for my friends for a few weeks. However, after my granddad died I didn't want to host anymore. I felt completely deflated and the last thing I wanted to do was party. But then I thought that it could be a welcomed distraction; a way for me to channel my grief into something positive. So I decided to make this the campest, extravagant party yet. I bought garlands, balloons, confetti- you name it we had it. It was as if a rainbow and unicorn exploded in our living room. It was garish but exactly what was needed. We each picked a country out of the hat and everyone brought a dish and we had our own pot luck. It was really nice to be with my friends; they'd had an awards ceremony/ get together whilst I was at home for the funeral and I'd really missed them. Everyone was so supportive and really got into the spirit of Eurovision. I was so glad that my friends Steph and Paige encouraged me to go ahead with it. Biking around Benimaclet The month of March was extremely hectic in Valencia. Tourists descended on the city for the spectacle that was Fallas and myself and my friends had 5 days or continuous partying ahead of us. Our routine was wake up at midday, see the mascleta, watch a parade, have a nap and head out for the fireworks. Then we would stay out and find ourselves at a street party or maybe a nightclub. One day I decided to break the cycle- by proposing that we actually cycle through Valencia and see some of the Fallas before they were burned. So Paige and I set off, she led the way on her bike Quique-Enrique and I followed closely behind. We stopped to see street art and take short cuts through new neighbourhoods. I had realised that I walked down the same roads every single day- I knew my neighbourhood very well but I'd inadvertently created a bubble of safety and normality for myself. It was nice to be a tourist in my own city- to have the freedom to ride around, carefree, simply chatting and enjoy each others company. That day was special because I was able to take my time- no pressure,no rush and really get into the Fallas spirit. Elephant excitement I've been cultivating a love for elephants for as long as I can remember. I think that they are such wise animals that carry themselves with such importance- they know that they're the sh*t. I have an extensive collection of elephant ornaments- each one special in their own individual way, they all have a name. But I simply lose control of my emotions whenever I see an elephant on TV or in real life. My friend Cornelia came to visit me in Valencia in June and we decided to visit the BioPark. I'm not sure what my stance is on zoos- I feel like we need more conservation spaces and that emphasis should be on preservation and protection rather than entertainment. The BioPark encapsulates these ideas; they aim to replicate the animals natural habitats, accommodating to their needs, often helping to re-home and rehabilitate animals which have been affected by deforestation or loss of homes. I really enjoyed the day out- it was a Monday or Tuesday during term time- the park was so quiet and we could really get close to some of the animals. It didn't feel like a zoo at all. The day was going well so far, we had time to grab an ice cream, see the leopard and meerkats- then we turned the corner and saw them. Elephants- as large as day. I couldn't believe it. My eyes filled to the brim with tears- an overreaction, maybe. But it's like meeting your idol- but it's even cooler than that. The rest of the day it was like I was walking on clouds, I was happy ; more than that I was elated. I'd seen an elephant close up before but this was such a welcomed surprise that I think I kept on smiling for the rest of the day. My reaction to seeing the elephants. So these were my top four moments that I hold close to me in Valencia. Of course I experienced flashes of happiness at other times too- for example when I had friends come to visit or when I was I travelling I often had moments which felt like out of body experiences- it was like I would step outside of myself and almost be looking around at my life. I have such immense gratitude for all of my experiences in Valencia and the people that I met. I couldn't have had a better year abroad experience and whilst that chapter has now closed; I'm looking forward to experiencing something new again and I look forward to what the universe has in store for me!

  • A Parisian Bucket List (part 1)

    **Preface** This post has been over a year in the making. It was originally going to be my second post on OuisiYes- however I decided to modify my bucket list- adding and subtracting things and eventually I came up with 54 things! I'm finally sharing it to showcase some ideas for things to do and see in Paris if you ever visit. In total I lived in Paris for 5 1/2 months and whilst this list isn't exhaustive of everything I have done- I ended up doing some more wonderful and exciting things- I hope that this list can act as a guide for anyone who finds themselves in the city of Love and Lights! Parisian summer bucket list: Must see things and experiences to have 1. Go to the cinema on your own and watch a French film (with or without subtitles) maybe at Le Grand Rex. I completed this task pretty quickly-I went to see a french film Photo de Famille last summer with my friend Jake. It wasn't subtitled but I was pleasantly surprised to find that I could follow the story. This summer I realised that I really enjoy going to the cinema alone- this summer I saw 'Vita and Virginia' and Pedro Almodovar's new film 'Dolor y Gloria' (in Spanish with french subtitles so that kind of counts right?) alone at the cinema. I even did a tour of Le Grand Rex cinema and theatre during Les Journées du Patrimoines. 2. Visit the Louvre The Louvre is an emblem of Paris- it is so huge that it's basically impossible to see it all in one go. I managed to see it in bitesized chunks last summer- once alone and once with my friend Jake. I still haven't seen everything there but I'm glad I went. I have to admit- I was a little underwhelmed by the Mona Lisa- of course it is amazing to see- but you can barely catch a glance due to the mass amount of tourists clamouring and even fighting to get to the front! 3. Go to Ile de Saint Louis and just walk around A friend of mine told me to visit Ile Saint Louis, even though it is an "Island", you wouldn't know it. It is connected by four bridges- it has a beautiful view of Notre Dame- or what is left of it- and is filled with quaint antique stores. 4. Go to the Palais Garnier Propelled by the legacy of the Phantom of the Opera- Palais Garner is a must see if you're into grandiose ceilings and haute architecture. For only 8€ for students, this is definitely a must see. 5. Have a picnic in the Jardin du Luxembourg Now I half completed this one- whilst I didn't have a picnic in the park- I did lounge around the park with my friend Lizzy after a night out! It was still extremely pretty, despite being viewed through hungover eyes. I also took my parents there when they came to visit- which I can remember much more clearly! 6. Go for a run the Buttes Chamout park Again this is a half completed task- I didn't go for a run in the park but I did spend a sunny summer Sunday sat in the park with my friend Bridie, winding down and reading books. 7. Find out where that Bar Amazonas is and go in it This is one that I haven't yet completed- I've heard that the bar looks like the Amazonian jungle, filled with plants- hence the name. If I don't do it this summer- I'll definitely do it next time. 8. Buy a book from Shakespeare and Company Shakespeare and Company is perhaps one of the biggest tourist traps in Paris- yet I still fell into it. It's an English language bookshop, in the heart of the Latin Quarter, facing Notre Dame. The bookstore is drenched in history and is extremely popular in the literary circuit. There is even a Shakespeare and Company Cafe adjacent. I found the store overwhelming, it is consistently busy- people sifting too and fro and the books are definitely on the pricey side. Nonetheless I did buy a second hand copy of Bridget Jones's Diary. For 6€ I know I'll definitely get round to reading it. 9. Wander around Le Marais The Marais is an vibrant area- it reminded me of Manchester's Gay Village. It's very LGBTQ+ friendly, with lots of cafes, bars and restaurants-little rainbow emblems are omnipresent; it's one of my favourite parts of the city. 10. Go to Le Bal gallery This was perhaps one of the most disappointing parts of this list. Le Bal is a exhibition space, with its focus on photography, cinema and visual arts. The current exhibition is on a photographer called Sigmar Polke. Personally it was a little far out for me, a little too niche. The space is quite small too- I would say only go if there's an exhibition that you really want to see- but again it is always nice to support local, independent art galleries. 11. Visit Le pavilion de Canaux- a café like a home Before I moved to Paris I watched a mini series called 'Alice in Paris' which chronicles the life of a young girl Alice, who possesses a unique sense of taste and culinary expertise, as she moves to Paris. Across the two seasons she branches not only into food recommendations, but places and experiences- Pavillion de Canaux was one of them. It is a cafe which looks like a house- it functions as a co-working space too and it has a built in Tattoo Parlour. I visited a few weeks ago with my friend Matthew- it was a balmy September evening- perfect for sitting on the terrace and people watching. 12. Go to a Franglish class I went to two Franglais class (a French- English language exchange) last summer. It was great to practise my French and it was a really good way to meet new people. 13. Try schwarts deli and/or Hanks burgers for a vegetarian burger treat Schwartz is a deli that I have been meaning to try for a long time- but I've visited Hank Burger two times in the last two weeks! It is a completely vegan burger shop and they also have a Pizza shop too. Everything on the menu is vegan and there are two shops- one in the 5th and the other in the 18th. Ethical and delicious :) 14. Go thrift shopping in Le Marais- Kilo shop or Freepstar The Marais has a lot of vintage and independent clothing stores- whilst I didn't buy anything the two times I went, you can definitely find a few hidden gems if you search for long enough. 15. Sit and watch the Tour Eiffel light up in person On my last night in Paris last September , I went to see the Eiffel Tower with my friend Richard. It was truly magical standing underneath this iconic monument as it glittered for the whole of Paris to see.

  • Natasha's Big Fat Northern Spain Road Trip

    This blog post has been a long time coming! I finished my placement in Valencia at the end of May and whilst I had been back and forth between the U.K and Spain for various reasons, I had the month of June all to myself. In typical Tash style I decided that it would be a great idea to go travelling in a different part of Spain. To truly put myself to the test I wanted head to the Northern region of Spain, in order to say that I'd truly experienced all sides of Spain. Bilbao and San Sebastian were must-sees on my list- I also wanted to see Oviedo, Santiago de Compostela and Santander. Now this would be a huge feat for me to complete. It would’ve been impossible to see everything. After having weighed up the pros and cons, as well as readjusting my travel time from 12 days to 8 I decided that Bilbao, San Sebastian and Santander would make the cut. These 8 days were some of the happiest I had during my time in Spain- although I was travelling alone, I was never truly alone, I hostel hopped, took buses and planes but this trip was truly unforgettable and I definitely needed the down time to recharge before heading to Paris for a summer of work! For the most part- I didn't really have a plan whilst travelling- I just decided to go with the flow, often stumbling on monuments and places of interests! I think that is part of the magic of travelling too. Basking in Bilbao The first stop on my trip was to Bilbao. I had never been to the Basque Country before but I had been told that it was almost criminal to not visit Bilbao if you're in the region. As soon as the plane landed (after the short 90 minute flight) I was awestruck buy the lushness of the green pastures and scenery. Of course Valencia is full of nature, but I'm used seeing palm trees and beaches- landing in Bilbao was like landing in a new country completely. Bilbao is both simultaneously industrial and full of nature. I have to admit, I didn't get the best impression because when I arrived the weather fluctuated from highs of 34 degrees to rainy days of 23 degrees. Despite being the North of Spain, it's still the North and from a Northern girl (I'm from Manchester) I wasn't prepared for the cold after having become accustomed to the scorching heat of Valencia. The first day I sat in the park with my bocadillo de tortilla and read my book- basking in the sun. For the first time in a long time, I was able to switch off, not worrying about lesson planning, Erasmus grants or general money worries. City tour and lunch I did a city tour with some of two people I met at my hostel. We thought it would be a tour of Bilbao in English- but surprise surprise it was completely in Spanish- we'd overslept and missed the English one earlier that morning. It was almost as if something was telling me that I needed to keep going with my Spanish- even though I was on holiday I was still going top learn. I have to admit; despite taking B2 Spanish classes for several months- I do find practical everyday Spanish difficult to understand due to changes in intonation, dialect and accents. Plus it didn't help that a lot of the names of the locations we were viewing were in the Basque language. Too add to this, Guy, a really funny Israeli that I'd met at the hostel, didn't speak a word of Spanish so myself and Regina had to try an translate the tour for him- it was a great learning exercise for the both of us! We saw lots of monuments that day walked around the Old Town- I really enjoyed the tour and afterwards both Regina, Guy and I decided to have lunch together at a small restaurant and we truly got the feel of Bilbao. Guggenheim Museum One thing that was on my list of must sees in Bilbao was the Guggenheim museum- it is architecturally stunning as well as housing a lot of amazing art. It's a contemporary building filled with a range of different exhibitions. Pinxo's If you go to Bilbao you can't miss out on the amazing Pinxo's. Most of the time I was buying cheap food from Lidl to take back to my hostel (travel on a budget) but every now and then I would treat myself to some pinxo's. These are the Basque version of tapas (but say that to anyone form the Basque area!). They are usually a piece of bread with a topping (fish, meat, cheese) and a toothpick through the middle to hold up together. They are small, but be careful- they really do fill you up. Getxo I had asked my friend Steph for some recommendations on things to do in Bilbao as she had already visited a few weeks earlier. She said that visiting the seaside town of Getxo would be cool if you wanted to get out of the city. I chose a rather mild day- perhaps not the best to go to the beach. But there were revellers there in bikinis and shorts, lapping up the transient waves of sunshine. It was nice to get out of the main city; breathe in some fresh sea air and to take some "me" time to journal and to people watch. A dalliance in Donastia I absolutely fell in love with Donastia- AKA San Sebastian. My friend Paige told me that it was her favourite place in Spain and I thought perhaps it was a little overhyped. She wasn’t wrong- sorry to have ever doubted you Paige. It truly was a beautiful city. My hostel wasn't the best located, it was a good 35 minute bus journey into town and I found that the communal space wasn't very clean. However the two guys who worked there were so lovely- always making an effort to talk to me and ask me how my day was. I even made friends with a group of Australian girls who were doing their own European girls trip! San Sebastian as by far the best stops on the whole, trip- I was there for 3 days but I wish I could have stayed even longer! If you're an outdoorsy person and into nature, then this is definitely the city for you. The pinxto's are even better here and you can pair them with a really tasty sweet wine called Txakoli. My top recommendations to do in San Sebastian are to: 1. Wander around the city taking your time to soak it in. I walked along the beach and although it was a little too cold to o in on the first day I really felt happy to breathe in the fresh air and sit on a bench and journal. I really got back into journaling on this trip; I have kept a year abroad diary that I’ve been sporadically keeping track of my travels. I’d fallen out the practise of it ever since the death of my granddad. It’s kind of like I lost my ability to convey my emotions in words. I was feeling so many things at the same time and I couldn’t filter it all. I was still in the wake of grieving during this trip- it had only been a month since his passing and spending a lot of time alone allowed me to really clear my head and process all of the life changes that were happening. 2. Chat to people in your hostel I met so many people who were doing the Camino de Santiago, which is basically a huge hike across the north of Spain. I’d heard of it before but listening to everyone’s stories, all of the challenges that they’d overcome and the people and places they’d encountered invoked a type of wanderlust within me. I’m by no means a hiker, but I’d definitely consider doing the Camino in the future- anyone want to join me? 3. Go for lunch on your own When I first started to solo travel, the idea of dining alone really freaked me out. Don’t get me wrong, I love my own space and being independent but there’s something a little intimidating about sitting in a bar or restaurant alone, watching families and couples. I had to flip this mind-set on its head and take it as an opportunity to really people watch and turn it into an exercise in which I needed to be comfortable with myself. I went to a really crowded bar- something that generated an extreme level of anxiety within me as soon as I stepped foot inside. The place was heaving with families and groups of tourist. I sidled up to bar and ordered ‘reveulto de patatas’ and a glass of txakoli. I stood awkwardly on my own until I saw another young guy, about the same age as me, doing the same thing as me. Whilst we didn’t strike up a conversation, we sympathetically smiled to one another, as a gesture of letting the other person know that we aren’t in this alone. Most evenings I ate dinner at the hostel but I did make the effort to sit and chat to other travellers. Like I said before, even though you’re solo travelling, you’re never really alone. 4. Venture up the viewpoints Even though I’m not physically nor mentally prepared for a huge hike like the Camino de Santiago, there are still quite a few places where you can get your steps in. I embark on the great Monte Urgull- there are a lot of stairs so if you’re not the most active person I would say to take it easy. Nonetheless the views were amazing! The next day I had heard from one of the guys at the hostel that you can take the funicular up to Mount Igueldo- it had a breath-taking view of the whole of San Sebastian. I wasn’t going to pass that up- I took the cable car up and I was greeted with awe striking view of this extremely picturesque city. 5. Beach please! Soak up the sun San Sebastian has amazing beaches- many are a surfers haven because of the waves- others are great for those who just want to top up their tan. San Juan in Santander My final stop on this 8-day adventure was in the town of Santander. If I’m being honest I wanted to go there because of the bank- by the way the town has a Santander branch every 100 metres, it definitely lives up to its name. I only had a couple of days here- Saturday evening to the Tuesday afternoon and to be honest perhaps that was a little too long for me. By the Monday evening I was craving the Valencia sunshine and seeing my friends before we all went our separate ways. The weather was definitely up to its old tricks again; sunny one day and overcast the net. Perhaps it was because I’d visited after San Sebastian, which had blown my mind- Santander couldn’t really compare. However I met some really cool people at the hostel including two American girls who were part of triplet and another American who was training to be a teacher. We went to the beach on the Sunday night to celebrate San Juan- a festival celebrated on the Summer Solstice, which involves lots of bonfires. It apparently comes from Pagan traditions and it is celebrated across Spain. We saw a lot of students burning old schoolwork and we were encouraged to write down something that we wanted to overcome or forget on a piece of paper and then throw it into the fire. We saw people jumping over the fires- again health and safety rules went right out of the window! But this ritual allegedly cleanses and purifies people. We walked down to the beach with our beers and found a spot around the bonfire- at this point I was used to the lax safety regulations regarding fire in Spain due to Fallas. We were nose to nose with the fire and whilst I couldn’t help think about the damaging effects all of these fires must exacerbating for our planet- I let myself get swept up in the festivities. It was simultaneously weird but comforting to be taking part in this cultural experience that was so foreign to me, alongside a group of strangers. However we were all complicit in this shared experience and that was one of the best parts of this trip. Ad we watched the flames rise, I couldn’t help but think I was in exactly the right place at the exact right time for me. After the arduous months that had passed I was so happy to be feeling something over than sadness and overwhelmed. It was simultaneously weird but comforting to be taking part in this cultural experience that was so foreign to me, alongside a group of strangers I also did a lot of sightseeing in Santander- it was a smaller than I thought but I headed to a really cool Lighthouse and saw some stunning views. Being close to water really calms me down- when things are really busy I find that if I’m near water I seem to be able to recalibrate. My trip to the North of Spain was one of the highlights of my year abroad. Not necessarily because of the places that I visited but because I was able to really tailor the trip to my needs- I needed a little break before I started my new summer internship. I definitely would visit San Sebastian again- there still so much of Spain that I want to see and this trip was definitely a taster of what’s to come in the future!

  • Burnout.

    Year abroad burnout is a real thing. It's my current reality; the biggest challenge that I'm currently contending with. I don't want this post to come across as pretentious or privileged. I'm already humbled and aware of how fortunate I am to be in a position to spend a year working and living abroad. Perhaps it is my fault; I've perpetuated a convoluted idea that this year abroad has been fun all of the time. Since I only post the good, Instagram worthy stuff, then perhaps you might have that idea. I'm writing this post not to complain, to whine or seem ungrateful; it's just that I sometimes find it a lot easier to convey my thoughts via this blog than verbally. If anything, this is a personal admission, not a "woe is me" type of thing. I've been on my year abroad for 14 months. Yup, well 13 and a half. I split it into: 2 months in Paris followed by 8 months in Valencia, a month 'off' in June and then three months working in Paris again. Most people split their year into two six month chunks if they decide to work; others do a semester of studying and then work. It's very rare that you find someone going above and beyond the 365 day Erasmus period like me. It’s hard to admit but I planned this year really badly- I don't want to say that I have regrets because, for the most part, it has been really fun. But I do wish, a lot more than I'd care to admit, that I gave myself a bit more time off and at home with loved ones . Time is a tricky thing to fathom. Simultaneously, my year abroad seems to have been the longest one in the world, but I also look back and can't believe how quickly it has gone. At this point in my year abroad I'm feeling truly and utterly deflated. If I could pick one word to describe how I feel, it would be tired. Perhaps tired doesn't fully encapsulate how I feel: I feel fatigued, drained, I'm running on empty. I've been feeling this for a few months now but only recently has it  started to encroach on my daily life. I'm normally very good at compartmentalising myself- not always a very good coping strategy, but it does work for me. I separate myself into different split versions: work Tash, family Tash, friend Tash. But at the moment all of these parts of me are feeling the same: exhausted. Most people think that the year abroad is easy- if I had a pound for every time someone told me that it's just an 'extended holiday' then I'd be able to pay off my student debt, and then some! I can only speak for myself and my own experiences, but this year has thrown me more challenges and curveballs than I even imagined possible- in all aspects of my life; personal and professional. I feel like, to truly understand how difficult a year abroad is, you do have to experience it yourself. I'm always very candid about my mental health and I'll be honest, I've steered clear of talking about this topic for a while. Not because I want to suppress my feelings and experiences with mental health but because firstly I didn’t want to sound like I was complaining and secondly it can be even more draining when you bare your soul to people on the internet- especially since my more personal posts tend to garner more attention. Maybe more people can relate or maybe they're just nosy- who knows? Either way, what I will say is that mental health on your year abroad is bound to be affected in one certain capacity. I was very open about my struggles with moving to Valencia from Paris and also how I struggled to really understand my grieving process. Now, this is a different type of struggle that I'm going through. Social media encourages us to post about our best lives, highlight the most desirable and enviable bits of our lives whilst disregarding the not so great bits. I'm a proponent of this- I'll never show you a picture of me crying in the middle of the night or having a panic attack- because why would anyone want to see that? Instead I show you scenic pictures of the Eiffel tower, picnics along the Seine with my friends, and drinking wine on Parisian terraces to perpetuate this half truth. This also works in other ways too: seeing all of my friends graduate, go on holiday and be at home, settled and surrounded by friends and family makes me feel envious. I know there are people who would love to trade places with me and it would seem ludicrous to think that I want to trade places with them. But that’s the way social media works, it fortifies the idea that the grass is greener on the other side. The truth is that for the past few weeks I haven't wanted to do any of that. Internally I've been breaking down, I have this overwhelming feeling of emptiness, my motivation has been depleted and all I want to do is sleep all of the time. If you ask me how I'm feeling I just say 'tired'. People tell me I need more sleep- I do sleep, perhaps too much sometimes- it's not physical fatigue but mental and emotional. I'm tired of speaking French all of the time in my job, having to be smiley everyday, I'm tired of being told to 'appreciate it whilst you can'. I'm sick of being so far away from my family, missing my niece and nephew's first days at school, missing my grandma, whose memory is getting weaker and weaker everyday. Some days I don't want to get out of bed. I have to give myself a pep talk everyday- cross off the days and count down the hours, minutes and seconds until I'm on that plane home. The only thing that has kept me going is the gym- and even in recent weeks my desire to go has waned increasingly. I think unexpected change has provoked these feelings. I was homesick from August and I was glad to visit home, even for a few days. During that time I was able to recharge a little- but, I still didn't slow down, still making time for friends and family. Now there's this constant gnawing, a knot in my stomach- an unrelinquishing pull to go back home again- I can't think of anything better just laying on my bed, simply laying there, not doing anything. I wouldn't say I'm depressed, I know when I'm going through a depressive episode and this feels different. I'm going through this period of transience, feeling low and empty but also I'm slowly shutting down, pre-empting the end. Today I burst into tears at work. Someone had asked me to do something and it completely overwhelmed me. I told them I would do the task but I just needed to step outside for a minute. In the privacy of my own company I let the floodgates open. It was half hysterical but mainly just sad. I felt like giving up in that moment. I have two weeks to go but in that moment I was ready to pack up and leave- I even thought about handing in my notice and rescheduling my flight home- that's the point that I'm at now. Nothing bad had happened, nothing major had tipped me over the edge, but I just wanted to give up- I knew that I was burned out. I'm not a quitter normally, I always try and do things to the best of my ability but I'm also at this point feeling extremely worn out. My job isn't too difficult, it’s the language element which I find exhausting. Being friendly and sociable are part of my nature, but having to think about everything that you say, have people pick your words and correct them, working full-time and often on your own can be both isolating and an overload sometimes. Even my coworkers have noticed that I haven't been myself in a while- I think friends pick up on it too- I'm not the best at hiding my emotions. I'm feeling a mix of homesickness and complete fatigue. Sometimes you have to admit to yourself that you aren't a superhero and that whilst burnout is not ideal, I think it can’t be avoided if you continue to put yourself under so much pressure. The idea of FOMO (Fear of missing out) severly impacts me too, I want to soak up everything, see my firends and make the most of it all because I’m constantly reminded that i’ll never have the same experience again. I know I've got two weeks left, I know that I'll miss Paris and the life I've carved for myself this year when it’s over. Yet, it’s also okay to miss your friends and family, it is normal. I'm writing this post for myself but also for anyone who is about to embark on a year abroad. Please don't dupe yourself into thinking it will all be plain sailing- even with the best experiences, we are sometimes met with troubling times. Nonetheless, these times  do pass; I know I won't feel like this forever, there is a conclusion in sight and I do have a good support system around me; make sure that you have one too.

  • Life lessons #8: What I learned as a language assistant

    For the most part of my year abroad I was working as an English language assistant on the British Council traineeship programme. I was based in the small town of Paterna, which was about 25 minutes away from the city centre via public transport. Whilst I greatly enjoyed my experience I would say that it had its peaks and troughs. Teaching is not something that you should go into half heartedly. It is an extremely challenging yet simultaneously rewarding profession. Although I didn't have the responsibilities of a full time teacher, I was given a significant amount of autonomy; more than I was supposed to have. My contract was limited to 12 hours a week which seemed to be a sweet deal. What I didn't realise was all of the behind the scenes ** cough cough** hours- and I mean hours- per week of lesson planning. Thankfully I wasn't allowed to physically mark work but I was expected to help grade oral presentations and my opinion seemed to hold much gravity in the eyes of my colleagues. So I'm going to talk you through the 8 things that I learned during my 8 months as an English Language assistant. Different backgrounds and different experiences: I had to learn very quickly that not everyone was going to have had the same opportunities and life experiences as me. For a little bit of background regarding my academics: I went to a grammar school , followed by a sixth form and now I am studying at a fairly prestigious British University. In terms of education I've had it good- not to say that it was given to me on a silver platter but I have worked hard to get to where I am. However, I (naively) assumed that everyone was just as academically driven as me. I've jumped from the bubble of a small grammar school to the even smaller Durham bubble. Everyone is academically able and gifted in some area and field. I grew up to believe that academics matter and they count- which I still do, but I held these values to my core. However I had a rude awakening when I was placed in my high school in the provencal town of `Paterna. A lot of my students didn't have expendable opportunities; the school had over 500 pupils as well as external students. There simply weren't enough resources for everyone. A lot of my kids came from challenging and different home lives- sometimes they would act out and the level of respect and behaviour was miles apart from what I was used to. It took me a while to realise that I come from a place of privilege, a lot of these kids were falling through the cracks in the system, to them learning English wasn't a priority. Their primary goal was to make it through high school. Patience (really) is a virtue Very quickly I learned that I had to have a certain amount of patience with my students. Everyone had a different level of English: some had private tutors, others were enrolled in extra curricular english language schools and on the other end of the spectrum there were students who barely did their homework. There were a multitude of reasons as to why there was such disparity amongst my kids. Many were struggling academically- they had fallen so far behind in their language learning that they struggled with the basics. It took a while for some of the kids to open up to me and to even ask for help. I'm always willing to help people learn and if someone asks me for help I always try my best to give them the support that they need. Sometimes when my students didn't understand some of the material; at first I would feel a little frustrated but then I had to step back and reflect. I had to think- what am I doing wrong? How can I simplify this or explain it differently. I had to be patient not only with my students but with myself too. Set the boundary Now I have been told that I do have a baby face. At a height of 5ft 3" and a rounded face I am often asked for ID whenever I buy alcohol and people are often under the impression that I am still a teenager (which isn't always a bad thing). Nonetheless, I had to immediately establish the "teacher-student" boundary. Unlike my friends who were working in primary schools where it was obvious to see the difference in age, I was often mistaken for a student- even by other teachers. Since there was no dress code I would often wear jeans and trainers- which again made me look like my pupils. I will never forget the day I was shouted out down the corridor by one of the admin staff who chastised me for being late- despite the fact that I started at 9am on Tuesdays rather than 8:20. After this incident we were both embarrassed, however now I can look back and laugh. My pupils called me Natasha- which I didn't have a problem with, however the one thing I couldn't tolerate was a lack of respect. My mother always taught me to show respect to everyone- never accept anything less. Arguing back, swearing and sometimes even inappropriate questions about my love life were always off the cards. I liked to have a laugh and joke with my kids of course- in some cases there were only 5 years between us- nevertheless I always made it clear that I was their educator and they were a student. Speak up for yourself Making your voice heard can be difficult sometimes. I was the only native English speaker amongst my colleagues and for the first few months at work I was very shy and held back in engaging in conversations. I din't want to make mistakes in English or if I was interested in the topics I didn't want to dominate the conversation. Sometimes my teachers spoke for me on my behalf- something which didn't really bother me at the beginning. As time went on I learned that I need to speak up for myself- even if I make linguistic mistakes that is how will learn. I also learned to speak up when something was being taught incorrectly. I didn't want to seem as undermining the teacher, however I realised how important accuracy is- especially when teaching a language. Most of the time my comments and feedback was taken quite well and by the end of the year I felt really integrated into the English department, as well as the school. Slow progress is still progress I'm someone who likes to see results straightaway; however when you're teaching this isn't always the case. I have to admit it took a long time for some of my students to start engaging with me. I really had to put effort in to gain their trust and encouragement. At Christmas time I was worried that I'd never break through to some of the kids, however in time, I began to notice subtle yet significant changes in their engagement with me; a little smile here and there, asking me how my day was, giving me recommendations of things to do whilst I was in Valencia, as well as asking me for recommendations for English resources. Even though these were little actions, they were nonetheless significant to me. It took time to build a relationship with these kids and it was really hard at the end of the year, having to say goodbye. There is no "one" way to learn When I first started planning lessons I only had my own learning experience to use as a guideline. I'm a visual learner- bright colours and interactive resources keep me interested and I've found that I study better that way. Throughout my year in Paterna, I quickly noticed that my students had their own individual ways of learning. Some preferred copying notes directly and revising that way, others needed a video or animation to help explain points. Some preferred partner work. I had to learn that despite everyone having the same material, the way that my students processed this information was really different. Often, I would combine techniques- creating games and sometimes competitions to keep my kids interested. Adaptability is your best asset I've touched on adapting my materials briefly, but I want to talk about a specific student that I had. Let's call her Carmen for all intents and purposes. Carmen was in one of my more challenging classes- she was 13 years old and really wasn't interested in learning English. I think she found academics challenging, she was always a little bit behind with her work and because she was in a large class (again lack of resources) she often got left behind. I made it my mission that year to help her catch. Her indifference to work came across as a little arrogant at times so I can understand why the teacher was resistant to push her academically. Yet it pained me to think that she wasn't getting the support that she needed because she worked a little slower than her classmates. Initially I would sit and do the exercises with her, giving he prompts and hints- however she still seemed really disinterested. I tried creating scenario and games in order to explain grammar points, but this again didn't help either. In the end I was at a loss, I really didn't want to give up on her but I didn't think I was helping her. She told me that sometimes she couldn't concentrate when everything was written down. So we started to draw. We drew pictures and used colours and fonts- we created characters and made up our own little story. The creative element made her interested in the topics and she didn't feel over-whelmed. It took time and a lot of patience but towards the end of the year Carmen had a much better grasp on English and whist she wasn't the "best" in her class or gone up a level academically- she felt more confident and comfortable doing her work. We would never have got to that point had I kept using the same methods. Take it with a pinch of salt The final lesson that I learned whilst teaching was to take things with a pinch of salt- bad behaviour, bad attitudes and criticism- acknowledge it, feel the way you need to feel and then let it go. Every Thursday I ran a cultural class for a group of 15 year old girls; I wasn't supposed to be running the class alone but the teacher wanted me to gain confidence speaking aloud and teaching independently. At the end of each class he would write up a feedback sheet- mainly positives but always one or two things that I needed to improve on. During the first term I would always try and hit his targets for the next lesson- pushing myself to improve and make the classes better. It was only until second term- after a somewhat badly planned and disastrous class that I realised that I didn't have to go above and beyond- simply just try my best. I've mentioned numerous times that I'm a perfectionist; I love to get things done correctly first time round- even though I was listening to the criticism of my classes I wasn't really learning from them. I had to remind myself that I could only do the best that I can- I'm not a robot and I'm not perfect. I had to take his comments with a pinch of salt and not beat myself up about making mistakes. After all I wasn't a fully qualified english teacher with years of explaining- I was simply a 21 year old girl, who was supposed to be assisting the classes, not leading them. So there you have it- the main 8 things i learned whilst teaching English in Spain. I loved my experience and whilst I know teaching is not my life's purpose, I'm grateful that I learned things too from this experience.

  • A magical weekend in Morocco: A photo diary

    This week's post is all about the time that I went to Morocco with my best friend Holly. It's kind of surreal that we ended up going, we'd been trying to go for months and months but our timetables never matched up. Luckily we were able to go together during the last weekend of May and it was one of my favourite trips of the year. I'd never visited the African continent before yet I've always had a desire to see Morocco. I have a friend who is from there and the way that she describes it to me, makes it seem otherworldly and enticing; not to fetishise or orientalise Northern Africa but in way that the culture seems so different and inviting. This trip superseded my expectations, I was heading to a new continent on a group travel trip with my best friend. It was the end of May and I was coming towards the end of my time in Valencia. This trip was the final stepping stone in a somewhat transformative year- I'd had a lot of experiencing travelling on my own and I knew what I liked and the activities that I enjoyed partaking in. Group travel is new territory for me, however I would 100% endorse it to anyone who is even considering doing a travel tour. So our Morocco trip consisted of visiting four different cities over the space of three days- sounds like a lot right? It was a little tiring, but that was due to the relentless heat and the crisp dry Moroccan air. We were on a coach for the best part of the first day, travelling from Algeciras and then taking the ferry to Ceuta. As I've previously mentioned, boats are not for me and I felt an overwhelming sense of seasickness which wasn't the best start to the trip. After making it through the somewhat facile immigration process, we were on the road to our first destination: Assilah. I had never heard of this town, yet calling it a town was quite a stretch. It was a very small community, confined to the Medina (Old Town). One of the main reasons that we visited was to see the beautiful blue streets and alleys, as well as take a well needed repose by the beach. Our wonderful tour guide explained to us the significance of the colour blue in the community and we were able to amble freely around the main square. It was easy to find yourself lost amongst the labyrinth alleyways and crooked back streets. One thing that the town didn't lack, after blue street art, was its abundance of cats. Now I am not a cat person- I think I've had this dislike subconsciously drilled into me from my mother, who for some reason has taken a strong disliking to these feline creatures. I, too am the same. However I couldn't help but coo (from afar) over the tiny kittens which paraded through the cobbled streets, asserting their presence and cuteness. The first night we settled into our hotel and enjoyed a somewhat bland meal of what was supposed to be rice and and omelette- which was in fact just rice and vegetables. Nonetheless Holly and I struck up conversation with some of the girls who we had met that day; bonding over our common interest in Spanish and our Erasmus experiences. The following day was quite a busy one, we were on the road again but before we made our stop to our main destination Chefchaoune, we took a detour to Tangiers to head to the beach. It was a very bright and early morning- yet my spirits were lifted when I saw the pack of camels waiting for us on the beach. At first I did have ambivalent feelings about riding them; I didn't want to be connected (even indirectly) to any mistreatment or animal abuse. Yet, I soon saw that despite being roped together these camels were headstrong and their owners treated them with care as they dillegnetly tended to them. After seeing someone be thrown off their camel and another girl slide down the neck of hers, I was (understandably) a little apprehensive to join in. However after a well needed pep talk from Holly I decided that it was worth taking the chance and having a go. I didn't regret it. Camel's are a lot taller than I thought they were. I have the slight stature of 5ft 3 and my camel towered over me. The hardest part was hoisting myself up- all grace went out of the window as I scramble up onto the large back of the dromedary. Riding a camel has been on my bucket list for years- I genuinely don't know how or why it made it to the list, but as we tentatively moseyed down the beachfront I felt more and more comfortable and accomplished. It really was a huge deal for me at the time- I think you could tell by my facial expression that I was a little anxious but on the inside an eddy of nausea flurried within me. Yet I glad I silenced the demons and didn't back out. We also took a trip to the lighthouse where we could see the point where the atlantic and the meditarrean sea meet. Though there isn't a definitive line, it felt nice to observe the waves. We also saw a tiny little donkey too, which made both mine and Holly's hearts melt. Our next stop was Chaouen- the main event. Months prior to this trip I kept on seeing images of this elusive blue city on my Instagram feed. Each photo strengthened a desire to visit this somewhat ethereal city. Chaouen was even more breathtaking in real life- the images certainly didn't do it justice. The Medina was truly maze like- which we found out much later on. During this segment of the trip we had a different tour guide, who reminded me of a cross between Yoda and my Grandad. His husky voice made ut difficult to understand at times but he was so friendly and knew the city like the back of his hand. He took us through all of the amazing back streets, seeing the hidden alcoves and rooftops where we had a great view of the whole Medina. We even visited a co-opeative weaving workshop where was saw a range of textiles and rugs as well as handcrafted jewellery made by local women. The market place itself was busy with both tourists and locals- the air was permeated with spices and fresh fruits. We dined at this beautiful restaurant which overlooks the city. I felt really bad that we are eating such exquisite food when the staff were all fasting for Ramadan. The food was flavoursome and bounty; couscous, rice, fish, vegetables, a variety of fresh fruits and pastries for dessert. We were truly spoiled. As a group we all went back to the Medina to explore and I enjoyed being in this hub of activity. That was until we were given an hour of free time to do some shopping. Myself, Holly and another girl from our group decided to explore together- we laughed and joked, taking photos and buying mini trinkets. We were so caught up in our excitement that we forgot to keep a track of where we were. We had a reached a road which looked like we'd been there before, yet all of them looked the same- blue. As we tried to avert a crisis we dashed around the Medina looking for anyone we knew in our group- as time was running out we were trying to keep a calm and focused head. We couldn't use google maps because we couldn't use our mobile data without being charged a fortune. We were all on the verge of a panic before we saw Mr Yoda again, this time with another tour group. We asked him for help and he said that he would tell our other tour guide where we were so that he could collect us. Now for some reason, we didn't quite trust that to be the case. Our main fear was that the bus would leave without us and that we'd be stuck inside this never-ending Median forever! We decided to put our heads together and see if we could again retrace our steps. After a lot of wrong turns and a few tense moments we found our way back. Just as we reached our start point we saw our tour guide- who was on his way to find us! It was a close shave, I haven't been that stressed since I did my A levels! We headed to our hotel for the evening and Holly and I had an amazing room with a beautiful balcony and view of the beach. We sat along the beach front before dinner, winding down after our adventures of the day. Our thrid and final day consisted of a trip to the city of Tetuan. This isn't a blue city but it is renowned for its market. We walked through the town and saw one of the King's residence. We also visited a local apothecary and had demonstrations of Moroccan health and beauty products- as well as being treated to a relaxing neck massage. I bought a homemade lip balm as well as some essential oils which aid travel sickness ( I was definitely going to use it on the ferry back). We then visited the Medina an had the opportunity to do a bit more shopping. By this time I was ready for lunch. I was pleasantly surprised when we reached the banquet hall. It was ornately decorate dead we were told that the venue was normally used to host wedding receptions. The food was again extraordinary and we were treated to entertainment by dancers and live musicians who played classical Moroccan music- it was a great way to end the the trip. We certainly had packed in quite a lot in the three days. I was also happy to have been able to spend time with Holly; despite us both being in Spain I was in the north and she was in the south. It was great to share this experience with her as well as meet new people along the way. Whilst advocate for solo travel and living your best life- group travel also has a lot of benefits :) Either way, oui sí yes and go travelling (especially with your best friend)!

  • Let's go to Lisbon: How I handled grief and solo travel

    So, I've been grappling for a while now about how to start this post, I've actually been putting off writing it . My trip to Lisbon was extremely personal for multiple reasons- everytime I travel, especially solo, I always think that it's an opportunity for self reflection. It was my first international solo trip and it was also during a period in my life where I was grieving. The day that I went to Lisbon was the day that my grandfather died. The last thing that I wanted to do was take a flight- especially to a destination that wasn't home.But in today’s post I'm going to talk candidly about how I learned to not necessarily overcome the grief but to roll with it. Grief is something that is so personal to all of us. Some of us are lucky enough to not experience it until much later on in life. Others aren't so lucky. Losing a loved one affects us in an individual way- my grandfather had a lot of grandchildren yet I'm sure that each of us was grieving in a different way. I've spoken briefly about the grief process before, but during that time everything was still so fresh and raw that I really held in a lot of what I had to say. Truthfully, I don't think that you ever truly 'get over' the death of a loved one. Even writing this I can feel the tears swelling in my eyes. The one thing about grief is that it is transient- it comes in waves and you I suppose you just have to ride the wave. I'm learning not to fight it. One night, a few weeks after my granddad's death I was laying in bed, having had a perfectly ordinary day and I just broke down in tears. It seemed to come from nowhere, but clearly my mind and body had been surpressing this grief. The best thing to do is to let it out. Heck, my eyes started streaming when I was on the metro in paris on my daily commute whilst listening to Beyonce's new song 'Spirit'. It just goes to show that we're more in tune with our bodies than we think and that we know in ourselves when to be emotional. Having lost friends before as I child, I didn't really understand the grieving process, as a young adult- the realisation of our mortality and the process of ageing really did hit me hard. The idea that my grandparents aren't going to be here forever. As pragmatic as I am, I found that I couldn't compartmentalise my emotions- I couldn't plan ahead or know how to deal with this. The day of my grandfather's funeral I was trying to mentally prepare myself- I didn't want to cause a scene by becoming overly emotional, I just wanted to get through the day. However, as soon as we headed to the funeral just seeing a photo of my granddad invoked a flurry of uncontrollable tears. This was after weeks or travelling and getting on with my daily life. Like I said; grief comes in waves and some days you are up and others you feel down but both feelings are totally legitimised. Like I said I don't believe that I'll ever get over losing my granddad; however I think I'm learning to cope with it a little bit more every single day. So how did I managed to do my solo trip to Lisbon? In all honesty I have no idea how I did that trip. I really didn't want to go after hearing the news a few hours before. Both my mum and dad encouraged me to go, they told me that its what my granddad would have wanted. Besides it was only a short three day trip- what was I going to do at home? Probably cut myself off from friends and wallow in my bedroom. Now both options are totally valid, but I thought that by cooping myself in my room it would be detrimental for my mental health in the long run. However I decided, after a lot of thought to go on the trip. In retrospect, I think that I really did disassociate myself whilst I was on the trip- I was there in body but quite frankly my mind was somewhere else. I cried the whole way through the flight- luckily I was sat on a pretty empty plane with no-one sat next to me. All I can say is that I felt a pit of emptiness- I cried until I ran on empty- there was a point where I felt I couldn't cry anymore. My eyes were puffy and swollen- like I'd had a bad allergic reaction and I had a headache from thinking and feeling so much. When we finally landed all I wanted was my bed- however I was greeted at my hostel with a shot of tequila and an invite to a pub crawl (I'd forgotten I'd booked a party hostel). I'm not an advocate for running away from your problems; however in retrospect I do believe that the trip came at the right time for me. I had planned to make it a party weekend- being super sociable with my roommates and heading out to all of the erasmus nights/ pub crawls I could. Nonetheless, the weekend wasn't like that at all; however I do think that taking things at a slower pace was what I needed at that time. On the first day of the trip, I woke up a little dazed and confused- I'd clearly cried myself into oblivion and had woken up in an unfamiliar setting. One philosophy that I've taken on ever since my granddad died is the fact that we only have one life. Life is so short, most of us think that tomorrow is guaranteed but it isn't. Not to make this post bleak, but within keeping with that mindset I've decided to try and embrace everything that the world throws at me. I have to take all opportunities that interest me and come my way- I didn't know when I'd be back in Lisbon and I knew more than anything that he would want me to make ether most of the trip. In a way- I made myself enjoy the trip. That weekend I was the embodiment of "fake it until you make it" philosophy-and it actually worked. Life is so short, most of us think that tomorrow is guaranteed but it isn't. That Friday started off bleak and grey, it had drizzled lightly and I felt that it was truly a moment of pathetic fallacy- it seemed that the weather really did reflect how I felt on the inside. Regardless, I decided that I was going to tick off most of the things on my bucket list that day. So I went to Praço do Comércio, which was conveniently situated 10 minutes walk away from my hostel. If I had to describe Lisbon in a colour, I would say yellow which is ironic considering everything around me was quilted in grey; my mood and the sky. The square is really quite breathtaking, and quite well connected to the metro lines. There's a stunning arc way and then a boardwalk in which you can see a bridge that closely resembles the Golden Gate Bridge . I decided that that day was the day I wanted to explore the Belem neighbourhood- I'd heard that nearby you could find one of the best bakeries in Lisbon. I'm not a deeply religious person, I'd say I'm more spiritual than anything, however most f my trips end up gravitating around cathedrals and churches. I supposes that a lot of what Europe was about; it comes part and parcel with the history. I decided to visit the Monastery dos Jeronimos. I think I was feeling emotionally sensitive during this time period and I was extremely susceptible to bursting into tears at any given moment- which looking back was always triggered in places of worship. I had to let myself go through the motions and cry if I needed to; even in front of strangers. But the most reassuring thing was, no-one every approached me about it, they never laughed or commented- I was allowed to let it out. This happened at the monastery- it was the first of many emotional wobbles that I'd have during the trip. Each time I cried, I did feel better and it felt like I was letting go of the emptiness I had felt. Of course not everyone is a 'crier' and thats fine too. As long as you don't repress your feelings then I think that it’s better to get them out. Despite the tears, I, surprisingly, had fun that day; I visited the Museum of Modern and Contemporary art which isI really enjoyed- they had some offbeat yet interesting exhibitions. I also visited the Tower of Belem, which is a huge fortification- once you climb up the tower you can get stunning views. I also taste tested the famous Pasteis de Belem. They are kind of like custard tart- apparently the monks used to make them, but now there seen as a symbol of Lisbon. I have to say, the best way to enjoy one of these pastries is to find a nice quiet spot in the sun. They are honestly some of the best pastries I've ever tasted (special tip, add some brown sugar or cinnamon on the top- trust me it will blow your mind). That evening I took myself out to dinner, something that I'm still getting accustomed to- I actually found it nice to sit with my book and glass of wine and watch people dine together. I picked a vegan restaurant (Organi Chiado) which was close by to the hostel and I was not disappointed. The food was really good and well priced and it was an intimate space but not too much to make me feel like an odd one out. Day 2: I'd booked onto a Sandeman's walking tour. Now, I've praised these tours before and I was not disappointed with this one. Our guide was so fun and genuinely interested in the history of Portugal. He was from the Algarve and he gave us such obscure and interesting information about hidden areas and how to avoid tourist traps. I really appreciated the time that he took with us and I do suggest that you follow this instgram (which I'll leave a link to) because he takes wonderful photos which are really quirky are are reminiscent of ‘art house‘ type vibes. I also decided to wander that day, seeing as many viewpoints as possible. It felt nice not having a rigid itinerary. At points I actually forgot that I was grieving; I'd kind of burrowed myself into a different headspace. At other time, the emotions would flood back, but like I said before they do come in waves. I spent the rest of that day wandering the hills of Lisbon and seeking viewpoints (which are not too hard to find). One thing I loved the most about Lisbon was the fact that it seemed at every point that you turned you could see amazing views of the whole city. You could stumble upon an alcove and then find yourself staring along the coast. Another must see that I would 100% recommend is the "Feira da Ladra" its an antiques flea market and you can find EVERYTHING- books, pots and pans, jewellery and VHS tapes. I love rummaging through these types of street markets, its kind of like digging for treasure. If you look hard enough you're bound to stumble upon some goodies (and I found the most beautiful pair of earrings). For dinner that night I tried bacalhau (cod) which is a typical portugese dish. I made a rookie mistake and went seeking for a place that served ONLY bacalhau (a big no). It was called A casa do Bacalhau and whilst the food was good it was extremely (eye- watering) expensive. Plus, I had to wait 35 minutes for them to cook my fish (but at least I know that it was fresh). Day 3: That day I decided to ride the number 28 tram which heads up to the city.These are older rickety looking trams- at times I felt a little unsafe as we headed up the steep and sloping hills, however it was such a fun and inexpensive thing to do. I took the line to the very end and ended up in the Graça neighbourhood and again I found a beautiful garden and some amazing street art. The views from the Miradouro was phenomenal- I was super lucky to have visited on a weekend with clear blue skies. I then walked back down the hill to soak in the views again and I met up with my friend Sophie, who has been in Lisbon for a year on her year abroad. We sat in the sun and had caipirinhas and basked in the sun next to the port. I met Sophie almost 5 years ago when we were both doing work experience in translation, it was so nice to meet up again and also hear about someone else's year abroad experience. That afternoon it reached the mid 30s and I was DYING in the heat. Sophie recommend that I take the train to the nearby town of Cascais which is a beach resort. I could do with a bit of R&R so I decided to take the short journey and of course the beach was crammed with people who all had the same idea as me. Nonetheless I really enjoyed the day and I was so glad that I could cool off a little in the sea. My flight was that evening and whilst the trip had be emotionally charged and difficult, it enabled me to recalibrate and to take time for myself. Of course the thought of my grandad was omnipresent in my mind throughout that weekend but I tried to do the trip in memory of him; I know the he would never have forgiven me if I hadn't gone. Sometimes we have to confront our fears head on, I didn't want to be left alone, in my head worrying and fretting. This trip to Lisbon really helped me to see that the world goes on and we have to enjoy every moment that we can, whilst we still can. "Life is short Time is fast No replay No rewind So enjoy every moment as it comes" I'm not sure who said that quote, let me know in the comments if you do. Whoever they are, they're 100% right- life is for living!

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