I live in airports.

Sweating buckets after catching the metro to CDG during rush hour. Thank goodness for my personal baggage assistants getting my bags to the metro.

Only repacked twice before the nice man let me have slightly overweight suitcases. Also carrying the heaviest backpack known to man.

An hour till lift off, flight one of four, can't wait for the beautiful lights of night time Paris!

I came in the morning and I'm leaving at night.

This sure is weird. A year in Paris, soon gone.

Dreamlike.

See you in 29 hours, daylight.

Goodbye's.

Yesterday I left Madrid at about 7am, joining the early morning revellers still partying and soaking up the last of the city that never sleeps. After my most stressful flight yet in which I almost missed the Ryanair check in, put my baggage on the scales to be told it was too heavy, and then having a lady scowl at my French visa with doubt, I arrived in Paris to find my bag missing and with zero money to get the bus from Beauvais to Paris. However, things somehow resolved and I arrived into sweaty Paris successfully. Spent the day with friends enjoying the sun in beautiful Parc Buttes Chaumont next to probably Paris' only stream. Arrived home to my old apartment to an email that my flight is on the 20th! Oops, casual freak out. I 100% thought it was the 21st. Today involved frantic packing in the hottest room imaginable trying to narrow my life down to 30kg. It hasn't happened. I may be wearing a LOT of clothing on these flights. Off for a final Parisian ice cream with the wonderful contingent of people I've met here. I'm thinking it's going to taste bittersweet.

32 at Midnight. On Fire.

Madrid is amazing, 43 degree weather at 8.40pm and all. Garden sprinklers make everything better.

There is beauty everywhere here. Especially in 11pm frozen yogurt.

Mellow living.

Fell in love and staying another night at surf camp. On the top of a mountain overlooking beautiful waves with an amazing set up, you can't say no.

Day trip to San Sebastian and falling asleep on buses from exhausting surfs and massive hill climbs with two boards in the heat of the sun. Watching funny movies with old couches, sleeping bags and a whole heap of exhausted surf bums. Ping pong tournaments with different languages and crazy winds in badly pitched tents.

But leaving tomorrow morning, the day of the much talked about 7ft surf, and heading to Madrid! Can't wait.

Home in exactly a week...

Alive.

Surf camp.

Surfing, sangria, climbing huge hills, sunburn, camping, tents, sand, sand in hair, sand in bikini, sand in bum, movie nights, tans, ping pong, sun, people, sunsets, sunrises, bonfires, summer.

Spain.

Spontaneous Difficulties.

From Barcelona to Valencia and on to San Sebastian. We hope.

We think we missed our bus. We think we're stuck in Valencia. We think we're looking at a comfy night sleeping in the streets.

Also checked Zarautz surf forecast and will apparently be surfing up to 10 foot waves tomorrow. If we ever make it!

Loving France in Spain.