I don't know what it's like in your part of the world right now, but in London, there's a point in February where I just can't take any more grey skies. Any more black opaque tights, pulled on for the billionth time in the dark. Any more cold.
So, we escaped to wherever John's British Airways points could take us, which happened to be Costa Adeje in Tenerife, where palm trees are a-plenty (my obsession) and the sun was guaranteed to smile down on us for more than just a skimpy hour or two per day.
We didn't want to sightsee; we weren't looking for "foodie" hotspots. We were just there to relax. And when I say, "relax", I mean - relax.
There is something magical about not budging from your horizontal position on a Bali bed by one of six pools at the hotel, retreating from this position only to crawl into the bed of your hotel room that's approximately the size of your previously rented flat in London and leaving all the balcony doors open as you nap.
It's about recovery.
A fellow blogger asked if I had tickets to the top of the volcano. (Nope.)
Another asked for recommendations on my return. (None.)
Oh - but I did find second dream home, on my dream street:
And I had one of the best pina coladas of my life:
I returned to the UK with a feeling that can only be described as being roused from the deepest of savanas in a yoga class ... sleepy and mellow, but also re-energized and refreshed. I was so relaxed, I forgot every single thing I'd previously stressed out about: filling out my landing card before reaching Heathrow (oops), people bumping into me during rush hour on the tube ... I even partially forgot how to find my way to the tube in the morning on my usual commute.
Before we went to Tenerife, I'd forgotten what it was like to not have a routine. I'd missed feeling the heat of the sun on my skin; squinting into the sky while crossing my arms across my forehead for shade. I loved hearing nothing but the occasional, quiet chatter of sunbathers near us and the trickle of water flowing from the fountain into the pool nearby. I loved leaving our perch to take a sunset stroll along the beach with John, when the shoreline had emptied; sandcastles abandoned and the light casting a warm, pink glow on everything it touched.
Best of all, there was no jet lag to contend with. Our late mornings and afternoon naps were dictated by our desire to indulge, rather than by a necessity due to sleep deprivation.
It was bliss.
Have you ever been on a holiday or a vacation where you did absolutely nothing, simply because you needed it?
