amy goes to crete, greece; part two

Have y'all had a good month?

As I'm hoping you remember, a handful of months back I went to Crete, Greece, and took way too many photos than is probably considered healthy. And so, what could possibly be a better way to spam them on people than on this here blog? 

If you want to read more about me peeing in a hole in the ground, punching a guy in the face and watching the most badass pensioner ever overtake me on a black moped, then I think it's best for both of us if you stay tuned.

For part one, click here!

amy goes to crete, greece: part one

I promise I haven't died.

I want to say that I've been busy, but really I've just been procrastinating by doing exams and the like. You know its bad when you procrastinate by actually doing work - in my case, writing 1,500 word essays. I've tried to write this post a couple of times, but lost momentum halfway in. That was until today, when I was just innocently reading The Book Thief and overdosing on chocolate when a girl from my old school messaged me. "Omg", it said "I love your blog. I so wished I'd spoken to you whilst I went to school with you". And pfft, that didn't make me die inside at all, what. So basically, I now have an insane amount of pressure to write a half-decent post, so sorry if I don't deliver, all you Emily's out there*. 

Barcelona, Spain //

Oh hey hi there hello. It's Amy, remember me? Yeah, I used to blog here back in the old days. That was, hmm, two months ago? Only 2015 kids remember. So, just to get warmed up again. I'm going to re-introduce y'all to my blog with a quick post about my recent(ish) trip to Barcelona, Spain. I can almost feel your excitement flooding through my screen. Almost, not quite, but we're getting there.

Not too long ago, it was my Dad's birthday.  Our last holiday had been in August, with only little trips to Wales and the south of England to keep the wanderlust at bay - and wanderlust had hit both my mother and I pretty bad. So, as a "birthday present" to my father (although mainly for my mum and I because he prefers colder climates) we booked a weekend away in Barcelona. Hopefully, by now you all know the story about my parents meeting in Tenerife, a small Spanish island, and my near miss at being an official-born Spaniard, and if you don't, well frankly you should pay more attention. Gosh. 

When I went away to Barcelona, I decided to take notes on a small notebook that I carried around with me, so that when I got home I could organise them into something I could comprehend. However, guess who didn't do that until everything had been forgotten? I'm  currently left with notes saying, I quote, "security, vodka, battle (flaus), windows less time than No Tears, 20 mins?!" So let's see how much I can distinguish out of those.

the body hair double standard

See my related posts on; chauvinist pigs, American Apparel double standards, and my first ever 'feminist' post on this blog, feminism, equal rights, double standards.

Disclaimer: This is not about shaming women who do decide to shave their body hair.

I am a feminist, I am an equalist and I am a humanitarian. So, it comes as no surprise that I am disgusted in the ideology that we as a generation are still faced with a patriarchal society. This post is dedicated to one of the many aspects of sexism that we as a civilisation are practically immune to - the body hair double standard.

The misconceptions linked to the word "feminist" are typically negative, which is something I doubt I will ever understand. "Misandrists" are completely different to a feminist. The literal definition for feminism is simply "the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities". Shouldn't that be celebrated rather than oppressed?

At 16, as a longtime shaver, I felt like my mindset had been so screwed over from such a young age that I could only cleanse my palate by growing my hair out properly: legs, underarms, and all. Women with hair need to be a familiar sight, not the punchline to hilarious Chewbacca quips. (Credit)

interview with travel blogger Lauren Juliff

As many of you may know, my dream career is to become some form of travel writer - be it blogger, journalist or columnist - and so I'm constantly trying to find out more about this fairytale lifestyle. I spend a lot of time reading National Geographic Traveller and checking out cheap flights to Japan and Brazil, and, of course, stalking amazing blogs like Neverending Footsteps. So when I contacted Lauren Juliff and practically begged for an interview, and she agreed, I was overjoyed. Finally, those little niggling questions about travel blogging could be answered - and shared on this here blog.

Again, thank you to Lauren for letting me conduct this interview in the first place, it's so, so awesome that you agreed.


Have you always wanted to travel? -

- I think so. I often tell the story of heading off on holiday with my family at around age five and having the most miserable week of my life. We were staying in a caravan on the British coast and it rained continuously, and all we did was argue. The night before we were due to head home, I burst into tears because I didn’t want to leave. I’d had one of the most miserable experiences of my life, but I still wanted to be away from home. 

That pretty much continued throughout my life. I’d spend all year counting down the days until I could go away, and then spend my holiday profoundly depressed that I’d have to head home in two weeks. I should have realised then that long-term travel was something I probably wouldn’t be able to avoid. 

<br/><a href="" target="_blank">View Raw Image</a>

How did you originally afford your travels? How do you continuously fund them now? -

putting my life at risk for this here blog (review of the month)

Once I had received this necklace in the post, I proceeded to open it, note its beauty, and then put on my hiking boots and walk up to the field near my house. After taking multiple photographs on the way up, I then noticed a small gap at the side of the field, hidden only by brambles and nettles. Naturally, I pushed those aside and crawled through the small hobbit hole. Avoiding spear-like bough after spear-like bough, I found myself to be in what could only be described as the centre of a reasonably deep forest. Due to my (possibly irrationally dangerous) wanderlust, I began to venture further into the forest, hopelessly trying to note which direction I had previously turned in. The trees, all around me, were placed in an almost symmetrical pattern, meaning that every. single. direction. looked exactly the same. 
Noticing a tree with branches just dying to be photographed, I began to stray towards it so I could get a good shot with the ever falling sunset in the background of the necklace. Suddenly, the same unformentioned dog from earlier (which had raced towards me, teeth baring, jumping about and terrifying me until an owner comforted me by stating that "she gets a bit excitable" to which I snapped "YES I GATHERED") paced towards me once again, before recognising me and running back only to terrorise some other stranger. However, in my panic of possible imminent death, I decided to follow the path which the dog was now on, due to the fact that people were obviously there and the footway would lead me out. Long story short, the necklace is still somewhere deep within the forest, lost, as once I was distracted by the dog and followed it I quickly came across ripped barbed wire, a fleshless bone and thus ran the hell out of there - straight into, can you imagine, a fox. Honestly, the drama was euphoric.

Thank you to Caleb for sending me a beautiful necklace to review on this here blog, although essentially because of said necklace I did, in fact, almost die. Kind of. If you count an almost dog-attack and almost fox-attack. Which I do. And I hope you do too because I tried to word that as dramatically as possible so that you would be intrigued and want to carry on reading. Let me know if it worked.

mmm la botija

Eighteen years ago, on a small island of the Canaries, a woman called Debra and a man called David met at a small Spanish restaurant. Two years later, an incredibly beautiful, funny, interesting child was born. This child was, obviously, me.

So the other day I went out for dinner with my family at one of our favourite restaurants - La Botija. My parents met in Tenerife, a small Spanish island, where my mother was a singer and my father travelled to build things. Not too long after, they decided that they wanted a child, and so they moved to Wales (I don't really know why because Wales is incredibly cold and nowhere near as tropical as Tenerife). They had said child, me, and due to my almost-Spanish heritage I have loved, and probably will always love, everything Spanish. The cultures, the traditions, the language, and of course, the food. I have grown up going to places like La Tasca and La Parilla, having Spanish lessons and flying out to Tenerife and Barcelona. Till this day forward, I will always pick La Botija over Cosmos.*

La Botija is a small Spanish restaurant in Warlingham, not too far away from where I live in the middle of nowhere in England. 'La Botija' basically translates as 'jug', 'kid', or 'buried treasure', depending on how you look at it. Spanish, huh?

I tend to love everything about Spanish restaurants - the buzzing atmosphere, the Latina music, the Spanish conversation that flows between my parents to the waiters, and, of course, the tapas. The food is typically encrypted with so much flavour and personality (if that is indeed a word I can use without sounding insane). La Botija especially is run by Spaniards, adding that extra little bit of authenticity that we all need in our lives. I love it - and so am here to share a few photographs with y'all of my last restaurant outing con mi padres. (Hence the fish and steak things)

brighton, james blunt, stevie ritchie, ub40 and pre-16th birthday celebrations

Hey guys! How are you all?

So basically, a little while back *cough*months*cough* my parents took me out for my pre-16th birthday celebrations. To quickly summarise;

- I punched James Blunt in the arm because he didn't pay me attention
- I had a selfie with Stevie Ritchie and watched in horror as my Mum flew insults at him
- I spilt coca-cola all over someone and maybe slightly stained their monotonic jacket

Long story short - you can't take my anywhere.

review of the month - benjy minu

"This Minimalist Necklace is a sweet and delicate accessory, designed to make you feel special.

The 19" silver plated chain comes down softly, just under the collarbone. The 1cm rough gemstone adds a touch of wild beauty, shining with shyness at the touch of the sunlight."

what is the meaning of life?

Okay guys, so this post is really just me going out on a whim and having a rant, so I'm not sure on what kind of feedback I'm going to get from you guys but this is a topic that I feel like I just need to get off my chest. Recently I've been having complicated thoughts about the meaning of life and whatnot, and I feel pretty rational in my way of thinking. I haven't written this because I'm feeling unsatisfied with my life or anything, but instead because I simply don't understand it and what better way to share my confusion than blogging?
~~~ Update: I think that I initially decided to write this post to feel a little more understanding of life, but in retrospect I think I was just mulling over my thoughts and ideas, and wanted to hear what you guys think ~~~

Do you ever wonder if people are placed into your life specifically so you can learn something from them, if everyone has a significant meaning to you? I was wondering this at about 2am a few nights ago (go figure), and I've come to realise that pretty much anyone who's ever played a part in my life has given me a lesson to think about. I don't want to call them "mistakes" that other people have made, but it's certainly taught me what not to do with my life.

For example, both my brothers had high expectations for their lives. The oldest didn't reach his dreams simply because someone - a teacher, no less - told him that he wasn't good enough, and so he gave up trying. A similar thing happened to my younger older brother (you know?), but this time the only person discouraging him really was himself. Long story short, both of them ended up doing something they love, but they have to sacrifice those to a few mere hours a month, so that they can earn money to fuel the economy. 

how to: redirect a blogger blog to a new URL

A few months ago, I made the drastic decision to change my URL - and everything that follows. This was potentially extremely risky because 1) all traffic could disappear 2) people could get lost on their way through redirects and give up trying to find this here blog and 3) Awkward Donkey was my baby, I'd had the URL for three-ish years, and it's what people had come to know me as. However, I had been unhappy with my URL for some time, and felt that a change of scene could only be a good thing.

I lost 4,500 readers in one month.

aloha all

Stop right where you are. Take a deep breath. Blink to clear your vision. Relax your shoulders. Close your eyes.

Open them.

Notice anything different??