Un peu de soleil en fevrier

Anyone reading this sat in an office or small student flat NOT in mainland Europe, for your own sanity, look away now! NOT that I'm being at all boastful, but. . . No wait. . . YES I AM. As I write this, I'm sat cross-legged bathed in sunshine on a bustling Italian train, and I'm not sure I could be feeling much more jovial. In the last 2 weeks my tired little feet have made tracks in Reykjavik, Royal Leamington Spa, Nice, Monaco and the Cinque Terre in Northern Italy. I managed to fit clothes, accessories AND toiletries for this variety of climates and terrain into my tiny travel suitcase! Impressive much?!

So, let's start in Iceland! I headed to London to join the fam and then off we flew to the capitol - Reykjavik. We swam in natural thermal springs, had volcanic scrubs and algae masks (with unfortunate photographic evidence) and saw an epic waterfall, where the raw power of nature made me feel INCONSEQUENTIAL and TEENY WEENY. Iceland is an absolute labyrinth of geological wonder - you can't cross the road without seeing a volcano, a geysir or a massive great crack in the ground!

Sisters attempting to appear STRONG like NATURE by the giant waterfall.

The first two nights we were there, the tours to see the Northern Lights were cancelled due to cloudy weather. But on our final night, a tiny ray of hope managed to break it's way through the fogged up horizon, and one tour company was running the trip. We just had to find something to do to fill our final day. . . Reykjavik is rather small and seemingly unprepared for its own inhabitants, let alone tourists as well. So, during the day, as we had run out of things to do in the city, we opted to partake in a little whale watching; my father having momentarily forgotten his tendency towards sea-sickness (which he spent the next three hours ensuring he would never forget again). The actual boat trip lasted about 3 hours, but seemed to last about 3 years, due to the freezing cold gale force winds, the lack of any actual whales, and the abundance of people vomiting over the side of the lower deck. SO. . . After losing a foot or two to frostbite and gaining what some might label an unhealthy knowledge of Icelandic seabirds, we lost all hope in our guide.

Family boat line up

Thus, that evening, with disappointment already in our hearts, we set out on our Aurora Borealis Tour - it lasted 4 hours and comprised of us driving around the bleak Icelandic countryside on a coach, chasing an imaginary gap in the clouds. Needless to say, no lights were seen.

By the time we arrived back at our hotel, there were 4 hours to spare before we had to catch our flight. Now, it's worth remembering that I do not come from a family who tend to comprehend the meaning of the word quiet, and just as we had moved about Iceland, destroying evening meals and other romantic and tender moments for others with our loud, jovial and often inappropriate or vulgar banter, we unashamedly left the hotel at 4am in a similar fashion. We flew into Heathrow on Valentine's Day. My father had skipped down the plane mid-flight declaring that the post man had been, and joyfully distributed big orange envelopes to myself and my three sisters. At least three of us having had our hearts viciously torn apart in the last 6 months, we were more than delighted to receive these cards, reminding us how fabulous and gorgeous we all are, from my Dadsie - the charmer :D

And off I trundled to Leamington to see Big Tall Tom and Best Friend Alice. OF COURSE my journey was troublesome and ridiculous. OF COURSE I had to change my route twice and buy new tickets. It wouldn't be the British National Rail Network without having to battle and bribe your way from station to station like a NINJA.

Being back in Leam felt un peu strange, like I would most likely settle into my final year and carry on like none of this year had actually ever happened. I had a marvellous time in some of the old haunts, having a meal paid for in my FAVE restaurant and catching up with various friendies, who all made my stay most magical. Then the travelling really began. I made my way to Nice and met Lizbet there for general Carnival fun, beach walks and romantic hand-holding in the moonlight. Daniel's arrival in Nice (2 days later) was dramatic (as per usual) and sunsoaked. We spent 2 days bonding with hostel roomies, microwaving dodgy looking food items and vaguely wandering around the city. The colours of the buildings (yellow, orange, terra cotta) was a major talking point (especially for little Lizbet who doesn't get out much ;) ) and we blundered all over Nice, loudly over-sharing and partaking in general frivolity.

Looking out over Nice

Chillaxing in Nice

A day trip to Monaco with Jenni, the guru, brought even more great weather, which we celebrated with wine at lunch time (which, obviously, became a theme of the holiday). A day later, off the four of us popped to Italy. We stayed in a small room in which, over the course of our stay, all social boundaries were thrown haphazardly out of the window. A week previous to our visit, a flash flood had managed to destroy a lot of our tiny village by the sea, as well as the four other villages we were hoping to visit, and had also washed away 3 of the 5 sections of coastal path that we had come to the region to walk. . . What luck! But we made the best of the fabulous weather - a hard job, but someone had to do it.

Our beach in Italia :)

Our album cover ;)

Jenni foolishly managed to catch a stomach bug from her Nicoise friend and was rather violently and distressingly ill while in Italy, but NOTHING keeps that girl from the soleil - the minute she had enough strength to drag herself out of bed, she was down to the beach for a bit of tannage.

The whole gang being cheesy

And so the day came to make our journey back to Le Mans, and thus you found me on my return journey from Italy at the start of this post. But since then, we have left behind the orange trees, the lapping waves and a time in which I could still feel HAPPINESS. Since then, all joy in the world has melted away. One train after another was delayed, and we ended up spending TWENTY SEVEN HOURS travelling back to le Mans, which included an overnight stay in Paris, where we couldn't afford a bed for the night and had to find shelter in the dawn light. THIS was when I began to feel unwell. . . thus these hours were probably the slowest of my entire life, and I think I aged about 12 years that night. I did however manage to make it back to my own flat before being forced to admit that I'd caught Jen's stomach bug, and I just CHUNDERED EVERYWHERE. SEVENTEEN TIMES. If I hadn't been repeatedly vomiting, I would have actually been impressed by that number - must be a record or something! I took the first day off school due to general weakness. Pathetic.

All in all, the LEAST relaxing holiday EVER.

But now, here we are, back into the rhythms of la vie au Mans - minimal work and living for the weekend.
Much love and whatnot, H x