If not YOU - then who?

'If not us, then who? If not now, then when?'

The above quote is my mantra. I am not actually 100% sure who said it - although a quick Google search tells me it was either John Lewis or Emma Watson, who are both equally as genius so I'll take it. Anyone who knows me knows that I am wildly impatient and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve the goals I set myself - whether that is to get a law degree (stupid goal) or to make sure the love of my life doesn't get away because I was already in a relationship. - The decisions we make are not always easy, but our own happiness should be the basis of them. My point is, we should be impatient, and we should make difficult decisions - because no one is going to make them for us and no one is going to pull out the golden staircase to our dreams. I want to be a writer because it's my passion, it makes me happy, and enough people have told me I am half decent at it so I know I stand a chance of making a living out of it. My parents and several of my friends don't take me seriously when I say I would be happy just getting by if it meant I could be a writer - I don't expect a huge movie deal within 12 months of me publishing my first book, I don't expect to be living in my Malibu beach home penning the next worldwide bestseller by the time I'm 30 - but I will sure as hell work towards it.

When I was younger, if I wanted something, I relentlessly pestered my parents until I had it. Although it probably drove my parents to believe that I was Satans spawn, it has instilled in me a self-motivated work ethic and the belief that you can get anything you want if you want and work hard enough. Take my van plan, for example, before Christmas I was printing out pictures, making mood boards and dreaming of the day I could call one my own, in reality thinking that it would be a few years, but nevertheless keeping at it - and look at me now, just a few more months and my van will be ready for her adventures next summer. I got it because I WANTED IT and because I WORKED FOR IT, not because someone handed it to me. Don't get me wrong, if I happened to bump into John Grisham at tesco (unlikely I know) and did him a favour which he offered to return, I would use that to further my writing career (not talking sexual favours here) because I believe that if you positively believe and try to achieve your dreams, you will attract opportunities that help you do this.

I was working at the restaurant a few weeks ago, and was laughing and chatting to a particular group of customers who then asked me what I was up to. I told them I had just finished law school but had been put off that area due to a disheartening talk on why being a barrister is a bad idea in the modern world. One of the women on the table instantly grabbed my hand and told me all about the fact that she had studied law with dreams of becoming a barrister but had given it all up to become a full time housewife and mother to her children. She revealed to me that she 'lost herself' in this process and, despite having several glasses of wine, gave me one of the most inspirational speeches I have ever recieved from anyone - albeit loaded with expletives. She urged me to follow my dreams, regardless of what anyone says or does to put me off track, and with every inch of my being I told her thank you, And that that is my plan.

Maybe I'm too much of a dreamer, too idealistic and maybe I romanticise everything - but I am determined to be happy - and when I am the age of the lovely Debbie mentioned above, I won't feel like I 'lost myself' in some rat race process or by having children who then define me, I will urge people to follow their dreams also, because it gave me more happiness in my lifetime than imagineable, like it has already.

If I were to die tomorrow, I would be pleased at what I have achieved so far. Despite the mistake of choosing law school, what other 20-year old can say that they studied law in 2 years and converted a van into a camper with their dad? And travelled to south east Asia with one of the best people on the planet, and had already spent 3 amazing years with the love of their life? There are plenty more dreams inside me, don't get me wrong, but I already feel blessed to have had so many of them come true.

If you were to die tomorrow - could you say the same?

The Meat Matter

I recently gave up eating meat, and by recently, I mean a few months ago. The main question I have been faced with ever since has been 'Oh my god, why?' followed closely by, 'but, what about bacon?'

And the truth is, I've wanted to give up meat for years, but I didn't really think my parents would respect my decision and because I'm still living with them, I didn't want to make mealtimes any more work for them than they already are. Its one of those things people always see as a 'phase' and never really take seriously, like that friend Jenny who goes on a complete juice detox for a month every now and then, you know she's going to give in at some point.

But for me, like everything else in the world of Holly Price, it really does have a deeper meaning. I could never shake the guilt off when I ate meat, I was always picturing a poor, helpless and innocent animal who was raised from birth for the sole purpose of slaughter. Some of you cynical realists out there will be shaking your head at me now, I know, you'll be saying 'well that's what happens in the real world, in the wild' and I'd just like you to stop right there - because it's not. You're telling me that Barney the lion just pops down to the butchers to grab himself a nice leg of antelope? or that Frieda the crocodile ventures down to McDonalds for her 20 chicken nuggets? No, in the wild, these animals are hunted, naturally, not raised in some harsh steel factory and overfed and then executed; because the human race is now too lazy and civilized to hunt, as well as too greedy to give anything up.

I know that what I am asking for is incredibly idealistic, and it wouldn't be entirely practical for suited up entrepreneurs in London to grab a spear and go chicken hunting, but it wouldn't hurt them to consider for a second where their food is actually from.

I am not some angry animal rights campaigner demanding you to give up meat this second - I am justifying my choice and expressing my love and compassion for all things with a beating heart. I'm not stupid or naïve, I know that me, just one person, giving up meat will not stop the entire industry, but it has made me happier than ever to pursue something I believe in, and maybe this will influence someone else who has been borderline pescatarian/veggie/vegan for years. I saw something today that triggered the need for this blog. A baby rabbit, in the centre of the road, taking it's last, shuddering breaths with it's insides spilling out over the concrete. I only saw the movement for a split second as my car passed over it, but I felt sick, I wanted to stop, pick it up and soothe it until it died. Again, an idealistic view, because I can't go stopping for every single roadkill victim I see because I'll end up one of them myself. My point is, I just don't agree with the unnecessary suffering of animals, and that's probably rooted within my childhood dream of being a vet, which was crushed when my mum revealed this job included putting animals to sleep - (not to mention the 7 years at university).

It's the same when I see people wearing fur or real leather. I can hear the squealing of that animal as it is skinned, or I can see a lifeless body, slumped and hairless, all for the sake of someone wearing a fucking coat or a hat or a scarf, and I think to myself, I'd like to see you skinned alive so that we can give out handbags to Minks. (I'm looking at YOU, Kim Kardashian.) I'm not trying to prevent people from wearing fur, but I do wonder why there is any need when there is incredibly realistic synthetic fur - I personally think that it's archaic, ugly and inhumane.

Also, what is really ironic about all of this, is that the animals were here first. This world was not ours to come and ruin, and take for ourselves, we have evolved from these species, and now we are killing them. Currently I still eat fish, but the effects of overfishing are ringing in my ears, and also I try to avoid using or eating palm oil where possible because of the devastating effects of deforestation - and my plans one day to work for a time at an orangutan centre. I feel so strongly about the natural world, animals, and what was here before us that I despair at almost everything about the industries of today. I can see how much we are destroying what is truly beautiful about this planet and I wish that I could do something to stop it, so this is my small, lifelong stand against that.

(I'd also just like to add that stopping eating meat has made me choose much nicer options on restaurant menus - go and be creative and brave and try something other than the burger or chicken wrapped in bacon.)

The Local Tourist

So, rewind a few months this year, around April time, I had just got back the worst results of my degree, was at the end of my mental tether and quite frankly, needed some sun. Me and one of my closest girlfriends, Gabs, said what the hell and found a relatively cheap holiday package for a week in June/July to a place where we were guaranteed some sun and fun, Ibiza.

I'm going to be honest - my expectations were low, from what I had heard, Ibiza was all expensive nightclubs, adolescents, and 60 euro bottles of water. How wrong I eventually was.  The obvious mistake was the 'package' part of the holiday, but it was a cheap way to get everything sorted and to get out there. After 4 sweaty hours on a bus (the transfer was only supposed to be 30 minutes) with a non-English speaking driver who couldn't find our hotel, we dumped our suitcases in our room, and soon realised that this 4 star holiday was looking more like and 2 and a half (at a generous push). The initial Copacabana-banana holiday optimism had long wore off, even before we had to part with 20euros for wifi that didn't work (except if you hung around in the marble lobby looking like something inbetween a lost child and someone's mislaid mistress).

With me and Gabs both being over-organised, slightly neurotic law students, we had obviously done some research and put together an itinerary so we had planned to visit an amazing secluded beach club called Amante Beach, to watch the sunset from the reknowned Café Mambo and finally to visit a hippy market that I was pretty excited for but neither of us knew much about.

Amante Beach - Near Cala Llonga
We went to Amante Beach club on the first night for a 'movie night' that I had been super excited for since we booked it in May. We reclined on body sized bean bags with soft blankets, a glass of wine and unlimited popcorn. Until the movie came on on the big projected screen, the only light was from candles that adorned the beautiful scene and the amazing natural shine of the moon and the stars reflected on the sea beside us. The only sound was that of the ocean gently washing onto the pebbled shore and the distant murmur of guests dining at the restaurant at the main building. I felt truly relaxed for the first time in months, so much so that by the time the closing titles of 'Goodfellas' rolled onto the screen, I was ready for bed.

The next day we were back there, reclined on beds overlooking our own little slice of the Mediterranean sea, and I felt that horrible feeling creeping up again. Other girls in bikinis and my history of self esteem didn't go so well together, constant comparisons always led to zero self confidence - and I was travelling with an ex-Miss World contestant. But after a couple of days, numerous compliments from the said Miss World contestant, as well as her choosing only the best angles when taking my picture, I was surprised to see that my waist was much smaller than I thought, and my legs maybe weren't that bad after all, for the first time in years on holiday, I felt confident enough to pose for pictures, and god forbid - enjoy myself.

 

Las Dalias Hippy Market - Sant Carles - Saturday & Wednesday

Las Dalias hippy market was heaven on earth for me - imagine if Aladdin's cave, the markets of Morcocco and the colours of Asia had a collision, the after effect would be this place. I was instantly intoxicated, sure it was overcrowded and hot as hell, which probably added to it, but my eyes struggled to take everything in. There was stall upon stall, all lined up, going in different directions and stretching for a good half a mile in total. This place was a mecca for nomads, travellers and the smiling free-spirited. I felt like I had found a home. Colours and patterns adorned the walls, handcrafted goods and jewellery tempted me from every angle and brown-skinned foreigners with dreadlocked hair and wild eyes gazed into my soul. It was here that I learned Ibiza was actually one of the early hippy hotspots of the world, an island of sun, music, psychadelia and undoubtedly, sex. I discovered that the likes of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin at one time both called Las Dalias home and performed there. I read that hippies from the USA arrived in Ibiza and were known as 'Peluts' and found haven there, and I couldn't help but feel a longing in my heart to have been part of that generation.

It was at this point that my perception of Ibiza changed, It was no longer just the crazy, overly-expensive party island - it had an entirely more profound personality. I longed to visit the Island back in the 70s, to walk barefoot on the scorching sand with dreadlocked hair and brown skin, to swim naked in the sea and to be amongst people of my kind, the free ones who are 'mad to live' as Kerouac so perfectly put it.

Café Mambo

So obviously, we had to venture at some point over to San Antonio - who goes to Ibiza and doesn't party? Waiting for us at Café Mambo was a table for two overlooking the best views of the sunset on the island, music good enough for anyone's taste, and a lot of people who were severely intoxicated. By severely intoxicated I mean struggling to function, dancing exuberantly and gurning for Great Britain. Despite my lack of desire to pop pills and party, these people looked like they were having the time of their lives. People of all ages, walks of life, backgrounds, were all here for one reason - to have a good time. Although not of the same mindset - to that I could relate. Ibiza gives off this unescapable vibe of wanting to forget reality - it really is no wonder that the likes of Dylan and Pink Floyd chose this magical island as their retreat.

As our week dwindled down to the final days, we looked forward to heading back to Amante Beach club for our final day in paradise. This, however, was brought to an abrupt halt when Gabs discovered the Island of Formentera whilst flicking through a tourist book at the hotel on one of the last evenings, she passed the book over to me and after reading "waters clearer than the Caribbean" and "The first island of freedom" I was sold. And so that was it, we walked down to the ferry (30 euros each for a return ticket) and we were blasting across the Med on a catamaran with overly-friendly sailors.

Playa De Ses Illetes - Formentera

After disembarking the ferry, and catching the L3 bus to our chosen beach, (8 euros each return but you could walk/cycle it on a budget) we were slightly disheartened by the fact that every inch of the beach seemed to be taken up by overweight alabaster tourists with cameras and coolboxes. We retraced our steps back to a smaller, secluded beach that the crowds had strolled past, and it was here that I felt it.

The sun beat down on us like castaways marooned on paradise. For miles all that lay before and behind us was white sand, golden rock and the ocean of every colour blue. There was the most intense turquoise that just hit your eyeline, which was surrounded by a navy colour hinting at deeper waters, there was sapphire and cyan, teal and azure, every shade of blue lay before me in a sparkling, rippling blanket. I have never been so overwhelmed by a sight. The shallows were perfect pools of liquid glass, so clear you could see all the treasures beneath. I felt as though I had been transported to a different time, where there were less people, and the only hope of survival was to use the fat of the land. It seemed untouched and remote, even with the glittering sea dotted with super yachts, it didn't feel like a playground for the rich to boast of their wealth, it just simply felt like we were all pirates in paradise who had found the treasure. At that moment, I missed the person I knew would appreciate this beauty as much as I would, my soulmate. It was a moment in time where he was supposed to be with me, drinking in natures beauty and not quite believing his eyes.

I couldn't help but feel some sense of impending doom, almost as if I knew it was only a matter of time before a tsunami of tourists swept the place, leaving behind litter, tourist guides and garish umbrellas - then I realised they were all already here, on the next stretch of sand. That gave me a pang in the chest again, one that left me wishing I was on this Island 40 years ago, when the early 'Peluts' descended and found their own private hippy-hideout, when the yachts were just fishing boats, and the tourists were just Spanish locals.

And now, sitting here back in dull old Wales with the exciting prospect of working off my overdraft all summer, I realise that a big part of me belongs in Formentera. It itches to seek out other places like this around the Mediterranean and claim them as my own, who knows, maybe I'll even start my own hippy-writer-musician-surfer refuge for likeminded people and we will all live harmoniously until we are sought out by the authorities or worse - by tourists. I guess the irony here is that I am a tourist attempting to become a local, I haven't up to now really felt like I've belonged anywhere other than in the arms of Kai or on the never-ending road, but a cheap impulsive package holiday might have just led to me finding a home.

 

(All pictures are my own)