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jenkinatortravels-blog · 7 years

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Whilst I was traveling around the Balkans, I made a very short trip to Sarajevo to check out it’s rich history and to find out more about the horrible seige on the city that lasted four years in the mid-1990s.

photo from http://www.sarajevo-tourism.com/eng/default.wbsp-

Upon arriving at Sarajevo I caught a taxi in order to get to my hostel and was given a great ‘run-down’ of the major sites and significant historical events, from a very welcoming local taxi-driver. I must admit, I was rather ignorant of the facts surrounding the siege of the city and was moved by the stories the driver told me of the atrocities the city, and country for that matter, endured during the infamous ‘Siege of Sarajevo’ – a siege of the city that lasted four years and cost the lives of a great many innocent people, including women and children.

Once the journey came to an end, I thanked the driver, paid him a wee tip for his helpful information and wandered off to my hostel.

I was very pleased with my accommodation, however, it was a rather small hostel with very few fellow travelers staying at that time; so, I put on my walking shoes and hit the pavement. Fortunately, the recommendation of the hostel from a couple of Norwegian friends I had met a week earlier, proved to be an excellent one! The hostel was smack-bang in the center of the city, so it wasn’t long before I was down on the riverbank and wandering past some very lively sounding public houses. In this instance, I managed to curb my itch for a ‘cheeky pint’ and headed back to the hostel to doss down for the night.

The following morning, I didn’t have to walk very far to catch the city’s Free Walking Tour, as it was right outside, below my bedroom window, yet somehow, I still managed to turn up late and was forced to share something about myself. I chose to go with the ‘ole classic’ that always gets a few friendly smiles, and announced that I was a Kiwi. It’s safe to say that my tour-guide was rather excited about this, as he promptly began shouting and waving his arms about in an attempt show us his rendition of some form of a Haka (the traditional Maori war dance, performed by the All Blacks – if you don’t know who they are… what rock have you been living under?! They’re only the best Rugby Union team that ever has and ever will exist. Cheers.)As luck would have it, my tour-guide – a native… Sarejavian, Sarajavite, Sarajevan…? a man who was born and raised in Sarajevo – turned out to be the absolute, biggest fan of New Zealand and the All Blacks, and showed me his All Black jersey-wearing, stuffed Kiwi bird that had pride of place in his tiny office.

Anyway, I digress… once we got underway, I was absolutely blown away by the fact (and I should have known better, as an amateur Historian) that we would be stopping at the very spot where the Austrian-born Arch-Duke Franz Ferdinand (not the band – the dude himself) was shot and killed, thus setting of a series of events that inevitably lead to the beginning of ‘The Great War’ or World War One in lay-man’s terms.

We were also shown a number of other interesting places, such as the local mosques and churches of the various religions that all peacefully share the city. Another ‘highlight’ of the tour was at the site of the oldest public toilets in Europe – I shit you not… my apologies, it had to be done.

From there, we were shown some rather strange markings in the ground which looked like giant blood-splatters. These markings in the ground are the exact places in which fell one of the 3,777 shells that were launched at the city over the 44 months of the siege. Each of the splatters that are painted red, are sites where people were killed… it was a very sobering moment, when we were told this, as the city is absolutely littered with these ‘Roses of Sarajevo’ as the locals call them, which are meant to serve as a lasting reminder of those lost in the horrible siege.

As the tour progressed, we were had a great number of buildings pointed out to us that were absolutely riddled with bullet-holes, a good twenty years on from the siege itself. You might wonder why they haven’t covered them up, but there are simply too many, all across the city, to even contemplate dealing with. I was also extremely moved and upset to hear that our very own tour-guide, a child of 10 at the beginning of the siege, had seen his best friend shot dead in front of his very eyes, whilst out playing football one afternoon. It was this kind of first-hand account from our guide, that made my visit to Sarajevo one that I will never forget. The siege was so very recent that nearly everyone there would have stories similar to his, that really makes you value the life that you have and count yourself lucky that you haven’t gone through such horrible times.

I know this tour does sound like a very morbid one, but is one that I would recommend to anyone who was thinking of going Sarajevo, as it was – like Auschwitz- an even more recent part of our human history that needs to be known in order for us to help prevent similar things from happening again.

On this tour, we were fortunate enough to take a ride (a very sketchy cliff-side ride) to: a viewing point, overlooking the beautiful valley that the city sits in; a Jewish cemetery, which shows the marks of war in nearly every headstone; and finally to the site of the 1984 Winter Olympics Bobsled racing. being summer, I thought that the Bobsled track viewing might have been a bit of a ‘non-event’ – oh how wrong I was!

When we arrived at the top of the track I was absolutely blown away by what we saw – and no, sadly, it was not the Jamaican ‘Cool Runnings’ bobsled team. But, what we did get to see was a eerie, almost spooky-looking, abandoned concrete bobsled track snaking off down the hill. As we walked down the track itself, we came to some of the massive turning corners in the track (which had doubled as sniper’s nests during the siege) and were able to view some of the most colourful and artistic ‘street-art’/graffiti that I have ever seen. I absolutely loved this space and can’t wait to go back and have a few beers there in the sun, next time I do.

We finished the tour with a walk through a section of the tiny tunnel that was the lifeline to the city during the siege, and the house that had been owned by a little old lady who had risked her life to help her neighbours and many others survive the insanely tough 44 months of the siege.

Once the tour was over, I wandered around town and grabbed myself some dinner before heading back to my hostel for another early night, as my friend was waiting for me in Mostar and was expecting me around mid-afternoon so that we could carry on to Montenegro.

…It was around 5am the next morning that I woke up in agony and had the sudden need to VERY quickly vacate my top-bunk bed and race to the toilet. 3 hours later, it was time for me to head to the bus-station to catch my connecting bus to Mostar. Yet, I was feeling really quite ill at this point and was contemplating booking another night at the hostel whilst I recovered from my stomach-bug; however, for some odd reason, the hostel’s three toilets had all run out of toilet-paper… so I had no other choice than to walk, as quickly as my dehydrated body would allow me, to the city’s main bus-station.

I eventually made it to the station, collected my ticket and went to wait for the bus …as near to the public toilets as possible. To my absolute horror, the toilets were of the variety where there is no seat, it is simply one of the infamous ‘squatter’ toilets that should never have been bloody invented in the first place!

Once the bus arrived, I thought my troubles would be lessened, as there would SURELY be a toilet on the bus – and there was! But, as it would seem my luck had run out, and the toilet was out of order, as was the air-conditioning, aaaaaand the bus-driver seemed to want to see just how many unfortunate souls he could ram into that rickety bus.

Safe to say, it was a very uncomfortable 3 hour journey for me…

Aside from the terrible ending to my brief trip to Sarajevo, it was one of the absolute best ‘city-breaks’ I’ve ever had. The people are insanely friendly, the vibrancy of the city has come back from the siege with a vengeance and the history is rich! I would definitely recommend it as a top European destination to everyone interested in history, having a few too many pints, or simply interested in seeing a new city.

Sarajevo – Bosnia and Herzegovenia Whilst I was traveling around the Balkans, I made a very short trip to Sarajevo to check out it's rich history and to find out more about the horrible seige on the city that lasted four years in the mid-1990s.

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jenkinatortravels-blog · 7 years

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Let It ROLLLLLL!

This single phrase was all that linked me and my English speaking compatriots to the thousands of European ravers who barely spoke a lick of our native tongue – but it was all that was needed to get us through the three days of constant Drum and Bass at the grimy, Dutch-dominated festival.

The year was 2015, it was a scorching European summer afternoon and I had just met up with my fellow Kiwis in the beautiful city of Prague in the Czech-Republic, absolutely frothing for what promised to be a state-altering three days of constant and heavy Drum and Bass. I had just arrived in the country with a fellow traveler who had been my neighbour at a pension on the Island of Ios in Greece, and was ready to rave.

My friends and I met a day or two prior to the festival in order to dine on some of the local delicacies of the region, mentally prepare ourselves and stock up on cask wine.

Once we had done all of the above, we made our way to the central train-station and made our way on-board the most luxurious train carriage I had yet encountered in Eastern Europe. It was on this train journey to the mysterious location of the festival, whilst guzzling down our three liter bottles of beer, that we first encountered an absolute ‘raving’ maniac of a man who had flown out from the UK for the festival. This man was an ambulance officer who loved his Bass music and had a voice that belonged on air (the face and carcass… not so much). We heard a few tales of the gore he encounters on a daily basis, became quick friends, then just as quickly lost him in the queue to the festival.

As we entered the festival with our camping equipment at the ready, the sun was setting over the venue – an abandoned military air-base in the Czech countryside – and was casting the most unbelievably full spectrum of colours across the evening sky. Having found what we thought was a suitable camp-site, we hurriedly pitched our tents and ‘popped’ open our boxes of vino.

That evening (once sufficiently souped up on the disgustingly sour, warm alcoholic grape-juice) we made our way to the numerous stages on offer on the opening night of the festival. The stages about the festival were all set up in various sized circus tents and housed a number of individuals who, it is safe to say, were not completely aware of their surroundings – but they were thoroughly enjoying the repetitive beat sounding out from the colossal speakers walling the DJ’s booths.

When I awoke on the first morning of the festival, I found that two more Kiwi lads had arrived the night before and I had introduced myself to them a number of times, yet I still had no recollection of their existence until they wandered over to our campsite and began speaking to me as if they knew me. After some awkward, hungover and somewhat confused chat from me, they realised I didn’t recognise them, had a right ole laugh and re-introduced themselves.

With that rather embarrassing situation resolved, we made our way to the feeding area where the zombie-like masses were lining up to purchase a meal from the vendors who all sold either chicken noodles or kebabs. Once stuffed full of: carbs, grease and salt, we decided it was time to go for a wander about the place and investigate this strange venue we were currently residing at.

Being at an abandoned military airbase, the campsite was situated along either side of a long, concrete airstrip and was, for lack of a better comparison, much like a scene out of District 9, with people stumbling about in all manner of states of lucidity. However, instead of signs asking for food or water, many campsites had signs of varying creativity requesting the presence of a certain type of ‘merchant’ that could supply them with the mind-altering medication they required; an amusing sight to say the least.

A similar night of raving ensued, with a very similar start to the morning the following day – kebab, wine, cider, chicken noodles, nap, cider, wine, cider rave.

On our third day, we found ourselves overheating in the European mid-summer sun, so we decided to venture outside the confines of the festival in search of a shaded spot in the scrub that surrounded the bases of the many airplane hangers that ringed the airstrip. We awoke a few hours later in a horrible, sweaty state as the sun had done that thing it does and moved in the sky to a spot that cast us directly in it’s harsh path. Almost broken from this shocking awakening, we realised there was nothing else for it, but to suck back some warm boxed wine and trick our poor bodies in to thinking they weren’t overheating.

This plan worked a charm and soon had us well on our way.

That night was a hell of a hoot at the main stage with eardrum-crushing bass assaulting us from all sides until five in the morning. Unable to hear one-another, we made our way back to our campsite to await the sunrise.

It was shortly after another stunning European sunrise that we began to pack up our gear and join the line to catch a bus back to the Czech capital. On our way to this two-hour-long wait for the bus, we went to return our drinking cups (part of the festival’s merchandising game) we saw a familiar face… the ambulance officer from our journey into the festival was still raving, ear pressed right up against a giant speaker that was absolutely blasting heavy bass. It was safe to say that this fella had had a successful three days at the festival as he was still in the same clothes he had arrived in, with the exception of his shoes (he had apparently thrown them over a fence somewhere for no reason at all) and was missing an iphone and a digital camera – “The rave is never over!” were his departing words when asked when he was heading home.

If you were ever considering going to a Drum and Bass festival, I would most definitely recommend Let It Roll Summer. I may not have painted the best picture of a comfortable festival, but it was all part and parcel of a very memorable experience and was, most importantly, cheap as chips with tickets for the three day festival having been around 55Euro each. The artists were also absolutely bang on and left my ears ringing for days thereafter.

Let It Roll – do it.

Let It Roll Festival – Prague Let It ROLLLLLL! This single phrase was all that linked me and my English speaking compatriots to the thousands of European ravers who barely spoke a lick of our native tongue - but it was all that was needed to get us through the three days of constant Drum and Bass at the grimy, Dutch-dominated festival.

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jenkinatortravels-blog · 7 years

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Tirana, Albania’s capital city – all I knew about Albania was that it had produced the people responsible for kidnapping Liam Neeson’s daughter…

I was afraid, very afraid… my dad is not Liam Neeson and he does not have a very particular set of skills – if I was TAKEN and made part of a prostitution ring in this ex-communist nation, that was me done.

However, I was not taken and I had an unexpectedly amazing experience in the eclectic city which boasts a rich history dating far back before it’s brutal, communist regime era.

In order to get to the city, I had to catch a small van ride from the coastal paradise of Budva, situated on the southern coast of Montenegro near the Albanian boarder. The drive began with the venal, cigar-smoking driver stopping at many small road-side stalls, collecting a fair number of cigarette cartons which he then smuggled over the border from Montenegro and in to Albania. Obviously his day job, driving tourists back and forth across the boarder, was not quite fiscally rewarding enough to stop him from risking arrest by the Albanian boarder police.

Once in Tirana – a city under constant construction as a result of the corrupt nature of the government there – I made a bee-line for my hostel so that I could deposit my belongings in a ‘semi’ safe location. As I wandered across the cracked sidewalk and past rather decrepit buildings, I was beginning to wonder if I had made a wrong turn somewhere… when suddenly a man stood up an ushered me over to the group of elderly men squatting around a game of street dice – I must have looked very lost at this point. Rather apprehensively, I stepped towards the small crowd and the man pointed to a small green gate at the end of a rubble covered carpark that was also home to a ‘pill-box’ bunker… “hostel is over there!” he shouted, before he returned to his gambling.

“This is it” I thought, I looked at the door and knew that after months of travel, I had finally stepped into the scene of the infamous film ‘Hostel‘ and was going to be drugged (against my will in this case…), have my organs stripped from my carcass and left to die in some dirty, icy bathwater.

However, I was pleasantly mistaken to find that behind this unassuming green gate, there was a garden oasis with individuals and groups of people sat reading, chatting and smoking some strange scented herbs all around the small, jungle-like Eden I had stumbled into. Sadly, this relief was short lived, as I was immediately set upon by the resident ‘traveler‘ who’s picture below will do everything that my description can’t…

Anyway, after hearing of this lad’s tales of self-discovery, I went walkabout around this strange city and joined a walking tour which consisted of the tour-guide, me and a young Chinese chap who had to leave early to collect his dear mother. As I would always say to anyone thinking of going on a tour of any European city, the free walking tours are an absolute must; they are simply the best way to get a quick overview of the cities history, the best spots to go out for a drink and something to eat and they also help you get your bearings.

Having my own personal tour-guide was great! I took it as a chance to ask the many questions I had about the hundreds of small ‘pill-box’ bunkers I had seen around the city and was shown to an area of the local history museum usually off limits to tourists which housed the broken and battered remnants of the statues of the once proud Communist Icons which littered the capital.

I also learnt the story behind the mystery of the many small bunkers I had passed on my walks around the city; it turns out that the entire country had been covered in over 750,000 small bunkers during a ‘bunkarisation‘ scheme that the communist government claimed would be able to defend the isolationist regime against any threat – a claim that was, thankfully, never put to the test. These small bunkers were so many in number that there was one per four people in Albania and were intended to be used by every man woman and child to defend themselves and their ‘glorious’ leader.

Made by Jeroenvrp http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Jeroenvrp Made in the summer of 2001 by a analog camera and scanned in Feb. 2008

Tirana also hold many other interesting secrets, including: the solitary minaret of the only Mosque left as a museum by the communist regime; a street named after the US president George W Bush; a ‘modernist’, communist, concrete pyramid falling into decay; stray dogs in massive numbers (most of whom were steralised by the local government in recent times); massive clubs and bars; and best of all…

An absolutely immense underground bunker! This bunker (or bunk’art, as it is known by the locals) was built by the Albanian Communist Dictator, Enver Hoxha. It was one of his private anti-nuclear shelters – reserved for the Albania’s political elite. This bunker remained hidden in plain site – right beneath the city of Tirana itself – for over 40 years. When I say that this bunker is immense, I mean it is absolutely MASSIVE! It has over 100 rooms, including: a dining hall, classrooms, exercise rooms and, of course, a cinema!

This underground labyrinth had to be the highlight of my time in Tirana; it is most certainly at the top of my recommendations for anyone traveling to the city to go and visit. Even if you aren’t someone interested in Cold War history, I truly think it is an awe inspiring creation and shows the reality of the scale of the corruption of the despot dictators of the European Communist regimes.

Anyway, after having nearly locked myself in a toilet some distance underground and thinking that I was going to be trapped in this bunker overnight, I returned to my hostel just in time – almost as soon as I had walked through the door, an almighty downpour of rain began to fall. Shortly thereafter, the thunderstorm was in full swing and our power went out. As a result, there was no wifi, barely any light and nothing else for it, but to sit on the covered balcony and start chugging back the delicious home-brewed beer on offer at the hostel bar.

It was while I sat chatting to a rather large African-American ‘jock’, a very hungover kiwi girl and two Germans, that I came across a small guitar and a beanie… being a ‘few’ pints into the candle-lit drinking session, I thought I might take on the persona of the traveler lad who had greeted me at the door the day prior…

I think I pulled of the look rather well, don’t you…?

Tirana, was an unexpectedly interesting and, most certainly, enjoyable city to visit. There were plenty of things I simply didn’t have time to explore there, such as the numerous night-clubs and bars apparently heaving with beautiful Albanian women (guarded by their very protective brothers, fathers, uncles, male friends, male cousins, second-cousins… the list goes on).

This city is a must do – the beers are cheap, the history is rich beyond compare and the locals who experienced life under the regime are still very much alive and will happily answer any questions you might have.

Aside from the infamous ‘traveler’ ‘friend’ I met at my hostel, it really is one of the Balkans‘ best doss-downs – so, if you’re heading over that way ‘Trip’n’Hostel’ is the way to go.

Tirana – Bunkers, Beers and Powercuts Tirana, Albania's capital city - all I knew about Albania was that it had produced the people responsible for kidnapping Liam Neeson's daughter...

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jenkinatortravels-blog · 7 years

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During the summer of 2015, two fellow Kiwi lads and I decided that the best way for us to physically, mentally and spiritually prepare for a week long rave in Budapest, was to attempt to hike from Zakopane in Poland, across the Tatra Mountain Range and down into Slovakia…

We began our mission impossible by taking an overwhelmingly crowded and muggy coach-ride from Krakow to the ski town of Zakopane. This quaint Polish village is apparently one of Poland’s greatest winter locations with Olympic level ski slopes and welcoming Christmas markets.

Upon arrival in Zakopane, we decided it would be wise to stock up on supplies for our journey of the mountains into Slovakia, so we made our way to the local store and purchased what we thought would be a sufficient amount of food for the journey. We also had our last supper which consisted of Pizza and Ice Cream, a great choice in any situation.

So, very well prepared for the hike (or so we thought…) , we set off into the mountains.

Our first hurdle came in a very unexpected form – as we attempted to exit the small town, we encountered a road block and a very large crowd… as we moved through the crowd, hoping to find a spot to cross the road, we came to realise that we had unknowingly come to the town on the day that it was hosting some sort of cycle race – a ‘Tour de Poland‘ if you will. As a result of said bike race, we had to weave through the throngs of supporters for miles until we eventually found a footbridge by which we could make it out of the heaving crowds and towards the foothills of the Tatra Mountains.

After this unexpected setback, we made great progress and quickly arrived at a track that led into the mountains. Unfortunately, we also found a sign that made it very clear that any camping in the mountain ranges could result in a 400 Euro per person fine… this was not the most exciting news, however, it did not deter us from our quest, as we trusted in our own abilities to find a sheltered and hidden location in which to pitch our small tent.

Further along the path, however, we came across another sign which provided us with some news which made us truly question the level of forethought we had put into our epic adventure and although the sign wasn’t written in English, the pictures of the bears and snakes were unmistakable…

Being from New Zealand, where – unlike Australia – there is nothing living in the wilderness that can cause you any real harm, we hadn’t thought about the fact that a giant hairy creature with knives as appendages, or slithering fanged devils, might be lurking around any corner, waiting for unsuspecting tourists to walk across their paths.

photo credit http://applamode.blogspot.co.nz/

But, being the somewhat silly youths that we were, we decided that we would carry on and risk being the focus of a short news article about stupid tourists hiking into the European wilderness, completely unprepared for what lay before them.

So, on we hiked.

We ascended quite quickly and found our way to the the peak of a fairly sizable mountain that gave us an excellent view of what lay before us. We decided that, as it was nearly sunset, we should take the opportunity to photograph the unbelievably crimson sunset that was deepening around us. Our photographer companion, @jmart_nz whipped out his Canon Camera and quickly set to work organising his models to strike poses on the precarious rocky ledges surrounding the mountain top. Unfortunately for us, the rocky ledges happened to be home to swarms of millions of small flies that had a habit of getting into your mouth and eyes. Even so, we were able to capture some great shots of the stunning scenery provided by the Polish mountain ranges.

Shortly after the sun had set, we came to the realisation that it was now dark and we hadn’t yet set up camp – we had no other option, but to vacate the area, at speed. We ran through the darkening paths, avoiding bats and dodging routes along the way, until we came to a clearing where we thought we might be able to set up our tent. Sadly, we began to bandy about comments like “That cabin looks like an axe-murderers dream home…” and “Was that a bear?!” so we made a unanimous decision to vacate the national park, set up camp, and prepare to attack the mountain trails at sunrise the following day.

After a very uncomfortable sleep, with nothing but the lumpy grass beneath us, we arose to a stunning sunrise and began our assault of the mountains we had sorely underestimated.

This time, we were going to make it all the way to the top of the range, across the boarder and down into Slovakia! We simply could not let the mountains get the better of us.

Up, up, up we hiked! By mid morning, we’d done it. We had managed to ascend over 900 meters in less than 4 hours, to the painted pillars that mark the boarder between Poland and Slovakia. Absolutely parched and having munched through most of the supplies we had purchased to last us three days, we took a moment to take in the view and a well earned rest.

After resting our weary souls, we walked along the ridge-line in search of a safe way to descend into Slovakia. Failing miserably at this and noting that the day would undoubtedly get away on us, we decided to find s suitable location to set up camp and replenish our severely depleted water supply.

As the afternoon heat soared to well into the high 30s and our only remaining water was around 20 milliliters in my friend Ben’s water-bottle (an amount that I seriously contemplated pushing him over a cliff-edge for) we began to see quite ‘heavy‘ individuals strolling along the ridge-line path… initially very confused about how these matinees had managed to scale the mountains, we soon realised that we had wasted both time and energy scaling the mountainside, when there was a gondola that took people directly to the peak in a matter of minutes. But, rather than be enraged at this fact, we were simply overjoyed by the fact that the building at the top of this glorious gondola served cooked chicken and sausages by the truckload! We then proceeded to spend every Polish Zloty we had in our possession and gorged ourselves on chicken and processed pork. A truly magnificent moment indeed – I think the smiles on mine and my friend Ben’s faces says it all…

Stomachs bulging on ‘mana from heaven’, we continued on our wandering way and stumbled across one of the most stunning vistas I have encountered in my European adventures – a mountain-top valley containing three small lakes and an abundance of purple flowers, carpeting the mountainsides.

As we took in the stunning views and walked along the medieval paths that wound their way down into the valley, we munched on the last of our three days’ worth of food supplies – not quite one full day into our hike…

By this stage, we had resigned to the fact that we wouldn’t be making our way into Slovakia via the seemingly impregnable mountain ranges that separate Poland from it’s neighbour, so we decided to make our way back to Zakopane.

Tails already between our legs, we were forced to vacate the Tatra National Park at speed because we heard the almighty roar of on of the nearly 50 Grizzly Bears that inhabit the mountain range.

All-in-all, this hike has to be one of my all time favourites, not despite the setbacks and hiking fopauxs, but because of them. Every obstacle we encountered and overcame provided us with a memorable European hiking experience and many lessons learned about what NOT to do next time we attempt to hike across country boarders.

My only tip from this one would be – get a map BEFORE you leave on your adventures. The rest, you can decide for yourselves.

Tatra Mountains Poland – three kiwi lads’ woeful hiking expedition During the summer of 2015, two fellow Kiwi lads and I decided that the best way for us to physically, mentally and spiritually prepare for a week long rave in Budapest, was to attempt to hike from…

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jenkinatortravels-blog · 7 years

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Santorini (as you’re probably well aware) is an absolutely stunning Greek Island, located in the Aegean Sea. This ‘honeymoon‘ location is quite possibly one of the most truly breathtaking locations that I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.

Santorini itself is a dormant volcano, which last erupted in 1950 and smoldered for well over a month. Thera, the ‘main-land’ in the small group of islands that make up Santorini, is home to the picturesque, white dwellings that litter the cliff-tops, overlooking the caldera of the sleeping volcano.

The views from the homes, hotels, restaurants and shops that literally cling to the cliffs, are truly something that must be seen with your own eyes – photos just never do it justice. Should you venture there yourself, I can gaurantee that you will never have seen such deep red sunsets as you will when you visit the Greek Island paradise.

As a solo traveler, Santorini was initially a bit of a ‘downer’, to be honest, as it really is the honeymoon capital of the world. Everywhere you look, is some newly wed couple, arms linked, stopping every two steps to admire the view or take a selfie in front of the marginally altered view from the photo they took only moments before.

Once I got over the frustration with remaining vigilant – to avoid collisions with couples constantly kissing and cataloging every moment of their special time together – I was able to take in the absolute serenity of the space around me and the vistas offered from so many different vantage points along winding cliff-top walkways.

Everywhere you go in Santorini, you can hear the happy hustle and bustle of the vacationers moving through the narrow, pristine streets; often you will find yourself being serenaded by the sound of an accordion, played by a local. Many of the stores that line the painted streets of Phira – the capital city of Santorini – are home to absolute hordes of gold-coated olive branches; stunning gold and silver jewelry and of course, ice-cream. The presence of so much overwhelming beauty only added to the sense that you have arrived in some otherworldly realm.

Once I had taken in the view from Phira, I decided to rent a quad-bike (around 40Euro for 24 hours) and go on a self-guided tour of the island. So, I set off in search of the Red, White and Black Sand beaches on the Southern end of the main island. These were easy enough to find and didn’t take long to get to, even with all the mad tourists weaving across the roads in their various modes of transport!

I reached the Red Sand beach via a rocky path where locals were selling watermelon and, again, ice-cream – I purchased one of course, and carried on my way. The Red Sand beach is situated at the base of a deep red-coloured cliff and was absolutely heaving with sunbathers; all, absolutely hideous! I averted my gaze and stared only at the undulating motion of the waves hitting the crimson shoreline… definitely not at the gaggles of gorgeous, Greek goddesses patrolling the beach. No, definitely not.

Anyway, enough of that – from the Red Beach, there is a small ferry boat that you can take to the White Sand beach, a short distance away and then further on to the Black Sand beach even farther down the coastline; all for only 5 Euro. I would definitely recommend to anyone thinking of going to Santorini, to make that voyage; it’s a great see some stunning views for such a reasonable price – the captain of the vessel and his workers were great craic as well.

After having surveyed the lay of the land from the boat rides back and forth between the multi-coloured beaches, I decided to ride my motorbike to the village of Oia to watch the sunset. Oia is that town in Santorini that you have probably seen in any Googled image search of the honeymoon destination; the crisp, white buildings and sky-blue, domed roofs of the Orthodox churches, scattered amongst the streets.

On my way to Oia, I came to a sudden, and very painful realisation – I had failed to apply any sun-screen before departing for my epic adventure… as a result I was fried to a crisp in the mid-summer sun and was not a happy camper. But, there was nothing to be done, so I continued on my way to the infamous village, to watch the sun set.

I’m extremely glad that I didn’t turn around when I had realised that my English ancestry had caused me to turn a similar shade of red to the beach that I had just vacated, because the view from Oia is absolutely stunning and most definitely worth the crowds to watch the sun go down.

Once the sun had set I wandered around Oia and stumbled across a cafe/restaurant that had a pool which looks out over the sea. I was over the moon when I found out that the pool was FREE! So, the next day I returned to the FREE pool and lounged there for quite some time. I befriended another solo traveler, an Aussie bloke, who gave me some tips for the next leg of my journey; I repaid this act of kindness by offering some entertainment, in the form of an epic bomb into the pool that soaked an unfortunate mother and her entire young family.

When it came time to leave the blissful island paradise, I was sad to be going, as I had thoroughly enjoyed every moment of my time there which drove me to return to Santorini for a second time, only one year later. I would most certainly recommend taking a trip there to anyone who is interested in a restful holiday break.

Some tips for those contemplating a visit to Santorini:

Expect delays at the airport – it is tiny and fails to deal with the swarms of summer-time tourists.

Expect a warm reception from any and all locals you meet there.

Go to Oia and walk round to the Eastern side of the village, where you will find a restaurant/cafe that has a FREE pool overlooking the Aegean Sea.

Book in advance! Cheap (or relatively cheap) accommodation is difficult to come by in Santorini, so look hard and plan ahead.

Santorini – a blissful Greek paradise Santorini (as you're probably well aware) is an absolutely stunning Greek Island, located in the…

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