Every summer vacation, after spending two weeks at the family bach, coming home was always something of a suprise. My room always looked bigger, cleaner. My bed comfier. Life seemed better. A mark of a good holiday that, when you come back feeling better than when you left.
After six months of travelling and exploring each new destination to the point of exhaustion, Ibiza was a welcome reprieve. A week of nothing but eating, sleeping, drinking and swimming in the crystal clear waters of the Medditerranean.
Armed to the teeth with water, sunscreen, umbrella, ipod, camera and reading material, Melissa and I only budged from our sunny spots on the sand to cool off in the warm water, or to indulge our bottomless stomachs with three course dinners and jugs of Sangria.
Back in London now, rain and storm out my window, it would be easy to fall victim to post-holiday depression. However, I still feel so god-damned relaxed that nothing could trouble me at this point.
Thank you Spain, I will be back.
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