Hectic is the best word I can use to describe what the past few weeks have been like. I've had a holiday, turned twenty one, started a new degree course, I've dealt with the news of somebody I care about getting very sick, and overtime at work has taken over my life. I've had quite a bit on my plate to say the least, so it's not really a surprise that this post is a little delayed. But it's been nearly a whole month (what?) since I went adventuring in Italy and since I turned twenty one...
I'm twenty one. That sounds both exciting and gross to say at the same time - I just don't think I'm ready to accept I'm that old just yet. With that said, I still don't feel any different. It's not like I've magically got my life together just because I'm supposedly now an 'adult.' In fact, so far, being twenty one has felt no different to being eighteen, nineteen, twenty - and I doubt that will change when I turn twenty two next year (that sounds even grosser.) But nonetheless, I turned the big 2-1 last month, and I can't think of any better way I could have spent it.
After weeks of torturing me with the fact I knew nothing about the surprise he'd been organising for my birthday - my boyfriend, George, finally announced in my anniversary card that we were going to Sorrento (we celebrated two years together in September, in case you didn't know) and honestly, I couldn't believe what I was reading. I was going to Italy! Like, what? This was amazing. I've always, always dreamed of visiting Italy one day (mainly for the food, I'm not going to lie...) and now it was actually about to happen! I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and knowing that's where my twenty first birthday was going to be spent just topped the whole thing off.
Our flight left East Midlands at 7:30 on Friday morning. Seven. Thirty. A. M. With the airport being just over an hours' drive from George's home near Sheffield, it meant we had to be up, ready and on our way by half past four. I'm *really* not a morning person as it is, so setting my alarm for 3:30 really was as hideous as it sounds. However, it was a whole different story once we were finally in the car and driving into the complete darkness of the M1 (I had never seen it so quiet.) The biggest rush of adrenaline kicked in; it might have just been the shock of having to get up after one hours' sleep, I don't know, but I was giddy with excitement all the same. We were doing that typical last minute, "did you remember to pack... *insert the name of pretty much every single object in our suitcases* and "oh my god, did you remember to pick up the boarding passes?" all while I was both itching to get to Italy, and desperately trying to stay awake at the same time.
It was a short two and a half hour flight - nothing like the four and three quarter ones I'd endured when travelling back and forth to Cyprus in April. On our way to the land of pizza and pasta, (how amazing the food was going to be was all I could think about) we flew over the French slash Swiss Alps, and I have never seen anything quite so stunning. They looked clear as day - you could see the snow covering the mountains, even little pools of water. I couldn't stop staring. It was like seeing the most beautiful place you've ever seen, but times by a million. I could already (sort of) half tick-off seeing the Alps on my bucket list, and that was before the holiday had really begun.
The first thing I noticed when we left Naples airport was a pizzeria with a small gelato cafe next door, and that was when I first really thought - 'yep, I'm in Italy.' Our hotel itself was lovely, it had everything I could have wanted. Two pools, great food and a room with a balcony facing the sea and Mount Vesuvius. I almost felt like a princess in her palace. We stayed at Hotel Conca Park in the heart of Sorrento, near Naples, and it was the prettiest little town you can imagine. The whole place is built into the hills (not so fun if you live at the top of it) and you could see Mount Vesuvius (apparently the most active volcano in Europe) from wherever you were in town. I thought such beautiful looking places only existed on postcards and in travel magazines - it was just dreamy. Picturesque. That's the only way I can describe it. There were those pretty, brightly-coloured, oldy-world buildings that almost maybe would have fitted in in a cute Yorkshire village, and hundreds of palm trees lined up along the streets - you know, it was the kind of pretty we don't get to see that often in GBR.
I was lucky enough to see my fair share of the country during my short visit. We caught a sightseeing bus and explored Sorrento, we walked and walked until we found all the quirky side-streets with all the bizzare but really cool shops, (it reminded me so much of London) we got a ferry to the Isle of Capri and found the most wonderful spot where the sea was all you could see for miles, we encountered two coach trips on one of Europe's most dangerous and deadliest roads (it was on the edge of a cliff, you can imagine how reassuring that was to hear) where we spent some time at the Amalfi Coast and Positano - which is where I spent my twenty first birthday. We went on a shopping spree (which was quickly cut short when we realised everything was about six thousand euros,) found a beach and the most gorgeous rooftop garden restaurant where I had the meal of my life. I was a very happy girl.
Despite all of that, visiting Pompeii is by far the best thing I've ever done. Seeing the place that was once demolished by Mount Vesuvius - the main feature of the view from my hotel room that I'd been admiring for days - was a once in a lifetime thing, however cliche that sounds. It teaches you so much and although there's not much of the town left, it still somehow manages to look unreal. There's some remains of people's houses, water-wells, even some crossings across the road were still there - it's impossible not to wonder what it used to be like before it was destroyed. There's something eerie but incredible about being there and it's a trip I won't ever forget. No, seriously. It's something you have to go and see for yourself to understand what I mean.
I loved everything about my Italian adventure. The views, the food, the culture, the weather - it stayed in the high twenties during our whole time there - and I especially enjoyed the cocktails. I miss our nightly ventures to The Kiosk Bar and their 'Death by Chocolate' cocktail with all my heart. It was amazing though. Chocolate ice cream, Bailey's and vodka. Like, come on. I was so upset about leaving. I just didn't want it to happen. I didn't want to return to the reality of work and assignments - so sprinting through Naples airport and nearly missing our flight home (long story) was a bittersweet feeling. I would have treasured any more time I got to spend there, but probably wouldn't have been quite so thrilled with having to pay for a new ticket with an arm and a leg.
Arriving back in England to be faced with the longest queue known to man, out in the torrential rain, waiting for passport control - to then having to search for our lost luggage, really was the last thing I wanted. It made me immediately want to be back in Sorrento. I'm still suffering from the most serious case of post-holiday blues ever, take me back right now. I reckon it's safe to say I fell in love with Italy, and there's still so much more of it to discover one day - and I already can't wait.
Caio for now!
Katie X
P.s. I obviously used the opportunity to use my new Canon camera out there, so I will upload all of my (hundreds) of photos very soon. Bare with!