I am standing on a bronze-coloured sand dune surrounded by craggy, boulder-strewn mountains. The sun is just starting to peer above the peaks bathing the hills behind me in a warm, golden light. It is 6am in the Wadi Rum desert. A light breeze tousles my hair as I close my eyes and listen to the silence. And it is truly silent. And truly beautiful.

My trip started in Amman via a rather disappointing 5.5hr BA flight from LHR. Entry into the country is haphazard but simple enough, handing over your 40 Jordanian Dinar (JD for short, about £43 or $56) for your visa on arrival. Amman is a hectic, traffic-ridden city same as any other capitol. People are friendly and helpful and don’t want to bother you. You need to dress conservatively as it is a Muslim country, but other than the call to prayer and the beautiful mosques dotted around you wouldn’t necessarily notice it immediately. Jordanians have a wicked, teasing sense of humour and everyone seems to be drinking coffee and having the time of their lives! The Citadel is the centre point of downtown and looms above the main roads as well as the ampitheatre opposite where everyone hangs out. You can happily wander the winding backroads (prepare yourself for some hills and lots of steps!) and have a coffee or mint tea just about anywhere. And no visit is complete without sampling the best falafel in town at Hashems. But Amman is not where the real treasures lie….

A visit to Jerash is well worth while – yes we’ve all seen Roman ruins before but I have to say these are quite spectacular. Don’t miss singing a tune whilst standing on the ‘sweet spot’ in the amphitheatre and a walk along the cardio maxima. From Jerash head to the Dead Sea – 410m below sea level and presumable the saltiest place on Earth! Floating buoyantly (whilst being very careful not to get water in your eye) is a peculiar experience but one not to be missed. Cover yourself in the greenish mud and your skin will be eternally grateful (and soft).

Mount Nebo (where Moses saw the promised land) offers views of Jericho and Bethlehem and houses a church with ancient mosaic flooring inside. Unfortunately it was so windy – and I mean seriously windy – it was impossible to stay long or take any decent photos. Moving onto Madaba and the incredible Byzantine mosaic map in the Church of St George which has survived almost fully in tact is definitely worth a visit. From there its 2.5hrs to Petra.

I would advise a visit to Little Petra (Siq al-Barid) before you visit the real thing, but nothing prepares you for that first glimpse of the Treasury through the canyon. It is simply breath-taking, you can hardly believe you are standing there in front of this majestic 40m carving that you’ve only seen in pictures. Trust me, photos do not do this place justice! The rainbow striping of the sandstone is like nothing I’ve seen before. Purples and pinks, natural streaks and patterns, even the steps to the Monastery look carpeted. Petra is one of the most striking sights I have ever seen. 5 hours is just enough time to climb the 800 steps to the Monastery, walk around all the royal tombs and hike to the viewpoint above the Treasury, but you could easily spend longer. Get there as early as you can to beat the crowds but also get the best light. Trust me it’s worth it. There are other hikes you can do, but be wary of people (particularly men dressed as Jack Sparrow – yes it’s a thing) inviting you to take ‘short cuts’, and please don’t ride the animals unless you absolutely have to. We saw a dead donkey with it’s little baby standing beside her lost and lonely. The hiking was not that difficult and donkeys were absolutely not needed. Plus there is something amazing to see around every turn, and you’ll miss it if you’re clinging onto a hooved animal for dear life.

If that wasn’t enough reason put Jordan on your list then a night in the Wadi Rum will likely convince you. A jeep tour across the dunes swerving around craggy rocks to scale the famous arches (think The Martian) should help you work up an appetite for a traditional Bedouin meal. Cooked underground for hours and served with rice we were treated to delicious, tender meat and veg – it doesn’t get much more locally sourced than that! We sat around the bonfire drinking tea under a sky full of stars including a few shooting before heading to our cosy tents and warm blankets.

From there it is just an hour to Aqaba, the ‘resort’ of Jordan resting on the Red Sea. Aqaba is a tax-free special economic zone designed to encourage tourism – it even waives the visa fee! With hotter temperatures and excellent snorkelling Aqaba is a must-see. You can end the day with happy hour cocktails on the Hilton rooftop watching the sunset and smoking some shisha. I felt that perhaps the locals are not quite ready for tourism yet, although it looks like a resort it doesn’t feel like one. Which is a a good thing as you don’t visit Jordan just to drink and sunbathe. Despite this, Aqaba is a great end to a week-long adventure! I honestly cannot recommend Jordan enough!

Direct flights go to Amman and Aqaba daily. G Adventures offers 8 day tours starting and finishing in Amman. It felt safe for solo/female travellers although I did not use public transport on my trip. Driving would be a good way to sightsee and the roads are good. A meal costs £4-8 and accommodation is of a good standard.

According to the bible (Lonely Planet), Delos is not to be missed! And I would have to agree. I don’t know a lot about Greek history, and unless you get a guided tour of Delos you’re not gonna learn any there! But it is a truly breathtaking place.

After a fine breakfast of fruit, yoghurt and toast (not real toast but that mini toasted bread you can buy in packs across Europe) I wandered down to the harbour to find my boat ‘Naxos Star’, a cute little ferry that had clearly been decorated in 1972 when chintzy cabaret lounges were all the rage. I chose a ‘lounge’ seat by the coffee bar and made friends with Nikos, the 25 year old barman who was only on his 2nd day on the job. We set of for Delos via another collection of troops from neighbouring Paros, which also looked gorgeous with its bright white harbour town. It quickly got borderline raucous  with the French and German groups clearly having the time of their lives, hugging, laughing and drinking tiny coffees and shots of raki! You couldn’t help but smile.

We were told we had 3 hours at Delos – that’s a lot of time if the LP has oversold. We flocked towards the entrance like well behaved sheep, and when I flashed my student card (yes technically I was still studying) I got in for free! Standard price €12 – bonza! There were plenty of groups being led by little flags and parasols, but I was quite glad not to be part of one as standing still for 30 mins between stone walls baking in the scorching sun did not appeal at all. Instead I put my ‘arty’ hat on (wishing I’d brought my actual hat) and went looking for photo ops. I really enjoyed myself – its been a long time since I simply looked at the angles and colours instead of the history – I was off-roading (naughty) climbing over boulders and stumbling over old relics. I loved the blend of man-made and nature, and the aptitude of the architects back then, incredible.

These ancient walls were completely solid, no glimmer of light getting through, amazing edges and corners crafted, presumably by rather primitive means. I made my way to the amphitheater which was still in quite good condition carved right into the rockface itself. I was ready for lunch, and while the majority had chosen to sit in the roasting midday sun inside the amphitheater for theirs, I decided to wander around it to find a shady spot. I took the path to the left and chose a rocky perch that offered shade, back support and the occasional gecko peeking out from a rock. People kept on coming, searching for the way to the very top, only to be disappointed when they found it was a dead end – and me! (For those who are planning this trip – take the far path to the right of the theatre to get to the top – the left however offers an amazing lunch vista!)

I’d seen a picture of some sculptures that looked like sealions (actually 7th century lions), so  after my cashews and plums I headed down to explore the other side. This was much flatter with more open spaces and paved walkways to follow. I heard a whinning Aussie accent ask his wife “Whiieer are the lyyyons?” I saw his wife point to them about 50 meters away. He replied “Is it faaaaarrr?” Er, no. I had a great time taking all sorts of shots to turn into a kind of Any Warhol collection! I also found a hawk perusing its surroundings standing proudly on an ancient pillar. I cooled down before boarding by having a little paddle in the shallows of the make-shift harbour. I showed Nikos my photos as he hadn’t been off the boat yet. He laughed at all the lizard pictures “You want one as pet?!”

45 minutes later we arrived at the Mykonos pier – where 5 cruise ships were tendering in. Oh dear, this is gonna be BUSY! Stefanos, another crew member told me “Oh beautiful Sarah (!) just go straight, you find a nice quiet place”. Do you know how hard it is to “just go straight” in Greece?!?! I set off towards the town (called Mykonos Town), following the bay curving against the lapping ocean. But between the crowds and the almost-fluorescent white  winding narrow paths of the old town it was easy to lose any sense of direction. I ended up at the other end of the bay, walking up hill towards some beautiful old windmills perching above a dazzling view. 

After a while I wandered back in search of sustenance. I knew Mykonos would be expensive but €8 for chips?? No way! I deliberately walked away from the crowds and eventually stumbled across a tiny taverna near a museum and a public toilet! It was offering mezze and a cold beer for €6 – that’s more like it! The food and music from an old record player were wonderful, and I basked in the dappled sun whilst my beer supplied a lovely buzz. Hmmm. Bliss, until I realise I had no idea where I was or how far the ferry was! Oops! But all was well and I even had time to paddle in the cool sea before heading back on board. A brilliant day rounded off by Nikos asking me out for dinner! Not bad for a Thursday….

 For those who speak better Spanish than me,

the title of this piece (is supposed to) mean daydreaming in Valencia .  The Spanish saying papar moscas literally translates to ‘chewing flies’, which if you squint your eyes and tilt your head to the left, may elicit some hazy connection with being lost in thought. This wonderful phrase speaks to me, not just lyrically, but because it feels so applicable to Valencia. I was lucky enough to visit a friend living in Ibiza, and was ‘forced’ by lack of direct flights to stop in Valencia on the return journey. So I decided to book 2 nights in a nice hotel and go exploring, one of my favourite things to do.

And so I sit, at 7pm on a Thursday night, in the shade because the sun is still el-scorchio, at a local bar doing just this – papar moscas. As my cold beer pours condensation onto my lap, I look to my right at a table of older ladies, at least in their 70’s, supping down drinks like it was happy hour at a tea dance. They chat and gesture emphatically, one of them on her 3rd San Miguel – before dinner! I’m in awe, and slightly tipsy on my first! I can tell that not many tourists come here, a few people have 1 eye on me, but its vague interest at best, and I feel comfortable and relaxed as I peruse my surroundings and absorb this warm, friendly atmosphere.

Valencia is a beautiful city, well designed and easy going. It is simple to navigate and very accessible, confirmed by the number of wheelchair users I see here enjoying the sights and lifestyle. The Metro tram/train system is also user-friendly, comprising of 9 lines stretching from the airport to the huge stretch of beach 18kms to the east. I am told my hotel is 4kms away from the old city, which used to be a walled roman city back in the day. So I decided to take the scenic route and walk through Turia Jardin, once a river, now a meandering park winding its way through the heart of Valencia. It houses many spectacular buildings including the opera house (pictured above), science museum and oceanarium – all contemporary masterpieces, surrounded by water that accommodates children learning to sail and even zorbing! A bit further on and you reach the concert hall with a grandly-pillared water feature in front. You’ll wander past palm trees, cross little lakes, and walk under ornate bridges, one of which was built in the 14th century with 2 striking reconstructed statues at one end. And then you reach the main attraction – the old city!

Looking through the Torres de Quart

One of many beautiful buildings

It is a pleasant afternoon spent wandering the streets of this place. Old churches and huge towers at every turn, little bars and shops in unexpected places, and of course, the cathedral (Cathedral–Basilica of the Assumption of Our Lady, alternatively known as Saint Mary’s Cathedral). Set in a large square, gardens and pubs (and sadly, a McDonalds) at the front, surrounded by stunning dusky pink and terracotta brown walls at the back, the cathedral is breathtaking. Also tucked away back there is the archaeology museum which houses roman relics dating as far back as 3AD.

If you take Calle Cabealleros from there you can wander past more shops and cafes – including 2 vegan cafes – up to the Botanical Gardens. At first not an overly impressive display, and very little English translation, but as you venture further you start to notice babbling streams, butterflies, birds and several cats! And suddenly you want to sit down, close your eyes and, oh, papar moscas once again! From here I headed back towards the centre, where I thought by taking Calle Vicente Martir I would head straight for Plaza de Toros, the amphitheater built in the 1850’s to mimic the roman architectural style. However, somehow I ended up back at the cathedral! So I sat down at a table just round the corner from the cathedral to drink in my surroundings as well as a cold, much-needed beer.

The following day, before my 8pm flight, I headed to the sprawling golden sands where €4.50 gets you an umbrella and in my case, severe sunburn! But the water is clear and warm, the sand is soft and the drinks overpriced – but this is what holidays are made of!

I would highly recommend a trip to this beautiful place, and with it being just a 2 hour flight from Gatwick airport you can easily do it in a weekend. The food is cheap, the beer is cold – so don’t chew flies – book yourself a trip!

I hate February. Seriously, what has it ever done for me? There’s nothing good about it. Winter has been going strong for at least 3 months (granted October was pretty awesome last year), but now you’re depleted, in full hibernation-mode. Christmas has been and gone so you’re broke and fat. You’ve been promised snow at least twice; “ooh fill up your freezers folks, its gonna be a doozy!” but it never arrived.  You’ve begrudgingly trudged to work through rain, wind, and that biting cold rainy wind that burns your eyes and turns your fingers to stone. You thought you just had to get through January and everything would be fine again. Just keep swimming. The light at the end of the dark cold perpetual tunnel. But no – here’s February and its every bit as bleak as the rest of it.

Suddenly, a glimmer of hope! The mornings start getting lighter, the nights are creeping, tip-toeing further away, ooh is that a ray of sunshine I can feel on my back? And just when you think everything’s gonna be alright, March is here….bang! Clocks back. Back to darkness. Back to misery, and another long ‘when the hell is payday’ month. It was all lies! So February can do one.

So how can cope?

There are many ways we can deal with this nightmare. Stay in every night. Pop some vitamin D. Take up mulling and spend your nights warmly inebriated. But the best answer surely has to be – GET OUTTA HERE! Frankly my dears, this is the only coping mechanism worth any money (I’m not knocking vitamin D or mulling, both are excellent strategies). Scrape your pennies, get another credit card, sell your body – whatever it takes to get you on that plane/bus/boat. Yes you’ll probably spend the next 8 months paying it off. But imagine: the warmth in your bones, the freedom of your toes without socks and shoes, the gently exfoliation of the sand against your skin. Eating outside, without a scarf. This is happy. This is free. This my friends, is the only way.