Paradise is only a beach away

For anyone still searching, I have found paradise.

My three weeks of backpacking along the Mediterranean have culminated in a week of relaxation in Lagos, Portugal.

I know, I know, I should be travelling throughout Spain and Portugal, experiencing different cultures … but after two weeks of 12 hour train rides, late nights in dodgy train stations and restless sleep at hostel after hostel, a full week settled in one place was more than us four girls could resist.

We were in Barcelona, enjoying our first stretch of really good weather and were ready for the beach.

We decided that we would still hit all five countries: Greece, Italy, France, Spain and Portugal. The stress of travelling was enough to tear any friendship apart. So we jumped on the Internet, found a flight to Lagos from Barcelona for $87, only $10 more than a train there, and then found a condo on the beach for $9 a night, the same price as most of the hostels we had been staying at, sometimes even cheaper.

Technically it is still off-season here, so the condo was incredibly cheap, about a third of its summer price. And being the lucky girls that we are, we hit the first period of hot weather the region has seen all year.

After five days here, I am proud to say I am one tan little girl – no longer the pasty, pale version of myself that has been wandering the streets of London. Not only that, but Lagos is an amazing city. Once considered the “end of the world” by early navigators, it now boasts more bars per capita than any other town in Portugal.

The streets wind up and down and are paved with cobblestones. The buildings are pale yellows, pinks and purples, and the flowers that climb over the stones are shocking by contrast. The beach we are staying on is edged by rocky red cliffs that hold emerald green grottos, and the water is so clear you can see fish swimming 20 yards out while you stand on the beach.

The best part of Lagos, though, is the people. This is the first city where, as a group of four American girls, we don’t feel threatened. Yes, the guys occasionally make nasty comments or whistle from the street, but it’s nothing we don’t get in London.

We already have our favorite bars and clubs. Matt, the Aussie bartender from Whitey’s Pub, has even offered to take us surfing tomorrow, something on my list of 50 things I have to do before I die.

All in all, this is like the Spring Break I’ve never had. (Believe it or not, the last time I left Dallas for Spring Break was my junior year in high school when my mother, and I travelled to all my top college choices … lame!)

Of course, I miss London more than the other girls: I am the only one who has been there the whole year, and I have someone to go home to … namely Michael, my boyfriend.

We’ve only two months left until the Atlantic separates us for good (or at least for a few months). Never mind the coursework that awaits me once I return. I feel a bit like I am wasting my time on the beach. I guess I’ll always be one of those people who can’t enjoy a vacation because they are too worried about what they have to do when they get home. It’s a pity what burdens responsibility brings…

But that’s enough from me for now. I am off to the beach!