My journey from Brazil to Argentina deserves it's own personal blog post because it has been oh so fabulous. Firstly, it was my first solo journey of our travels as Sarah had to take a later flight as it worked out cheaper (I don't get it either). So I was let loose in South America for 3 hours on my own and my homing pigeon skills sucked me in to Michael Kors. With no voice of reason to keep me in check, I was handing over my credit card and got a beautiful new purse. It is amazing but I'm scared to tell Sarah when I meet her in arrivals. I'm out of control. She normally keeps me on a tight leash.

As I'm wandering to my gate with a big I've-just-bought-some-designer-treats grin on my chops; I walk past a Margaritaville. This is a place from the BEST SCENE IN CINEMA HISTORY EVER where a guy runs away from dinosaurs in Jurrasic World and doesn't leave his margaritas behind, even though he's going to get eaten. Man after my own heart and a scene that still tickles me now. If I'd had time then I would have reenacted the scene but alas I did not.

Things just keep getting better from here. Firstly, I got an aisle seat which means ultimate leg room and I can pee as often as my little bladder desires. Secondly, there are full on TV's on the back of the seats. This kind of magic normally only happens on long haul flights. This is only 3 hours. I'm already in heaven. 

Right, thirdly, THIIIIRDLY... The captain comes on and talks us through how it's going to be a smooth flight (I'm typing this as turbulence is occurring, so one negative is he's a blatant liar but I digress) anyway, he's ENGLISH. Edward is his name. Beautiful British name. I haven't heard a British accent in over a week and I feel instantly comforted. Edward will keep me safe! Cheers Ed. Love ya.

The next reason. I think we're on four now. Is the humoungous selection of films on offer... It's a 3 hour flight so I must make the right decision here. Stressful times. I chose The Longest Ride which is a Nicholas Sparks film (creater of should-have-won-an-Oscar classic 'The Notebook') and I'm sure I'm on to a winner. As I recline my super comfortable seat and settle down to ride the emotional rollercoaster of my chosen film, the food cart comes round. This is the best moment of any flight BUT I'm in the exact seat that means I get served first. It's all too good to be true right now. What could top this I hear you cry?! WELL, I shall tell you. They serve gin. Beefeater London gin. Actually, they don't just serve it; they free pour the gin. No measurements. Just pouring it right in there until they feel like stopping. She poured in half a glass of gin, 3 ice cubes and a dash of tonic. If anything it's too strong but I'm seeing it off out of politeness. I'm too polite, me.

So I'm sat here happy as larry, sobbing into my Qatar napkin because the film has just got totes emosh, sipping on a G&T. Everything is wonderful right now. Apart from I think the child behind me just shit himself. Apart from that, I couldn't be happier. See you in a while Argentina... If my mate Ed can land this bitch in one piece. I'm relying on you buddddy! Over and out. 

EDIT: Edward landed us in one piece but it was touch and go. Storm a plenty and I thought we were going to die. He apologised though so he's back in my good books.

After another sleep disturbed by 3 crazy Spanish bitches having a mothers meeting at 3am in a dark hostel room, we made as much noise as possible at 8am as we started our journey to an island paradise called Ilha Grande. We said goodbye to Lemon Spirit and their resident hottie, Thiago, for a couple of days but we would return. With a vengeance. 

Our drive out of Rio was awesome as we whizzed past Ipanema Beach, Copacabana, Sugar Loaf Mountain and even got epic views of Christ the Redeemer. Sexy bastard. 

It took about 5 hours to get to Ilha Grande including a bus and a boat and then a trek half way up a bloody mountain to find our hostel. The weather wasn't what I wanted but then again, it was the evening. The island looked like Jurassic World and I was sure we'd be eaten before nightfall.

Because it was shit weather we decided to eat something on the beach, book a beach tour for the next day and have a super early night to recuperate. We found a nice looking place on the beach and both decided to go for the falafel salad which sounded divine. What wasn't so divine is waking up at 11pm to sounds of chundering and regret as the falafel was making a reappearance from Sarah's body. She was struck down horrifically with food poisoning and I was just waiting by the minute to be sick on myself as I too had eaten the salad. 

Luckily, somehow I had managed to avoid it and wasn't ill. Must have a stomach of steel. I got serious food poisioning a couple of years ago from Chicken Cottage in Streatham Hill when me and my then boyfriend decided we needed some cheap, undercooked chicken after a night on the booze. That took relationship bonding to a new level. So luckily my body didn't flinch at a bit of dodgy water on a salad leaf. 

My poor little pea was an empty shell of herself (literally) and having never been poisoned by food before, it hit her hard. She had stopped being sick in the early hours and decided she was still ok to chase the sun around the most beautiful beaches the island had to offer. 

We had a convoy of about 3 or 4 speedboats and whizzed around at super speed. I felt like I was either in James Bond or close to death at any second. Sarah was concentrating on not chundering everywhere which was not easy I tell you now. At one point the driver (who I'm not entirely sure was actually looking where he was going half the time) smashed into a wave, took off and all of our arses left the seats as the boat and us were mid air. I grabbed Sarah's leg and everyone looked at each other in what felt like super slow motion, all with fear plastered on our mugs. Thankfully we forcefully smashed down to the seats with only a fractured coccyx to moan about. No biggie. It's not actually fractured but I think my back is definitely a few inches shorter. The drive had a smile on his face but it was obviously hiding his relief that he hadn't just killed 12 tourists and would subsequently be on the Daily Mail the next morning. Health and safety isn't a thing in Brazil. 

After that debarkal, he made up for it by plonking us on 5 or 6 stunning beaches where I was completely in my happy place and lapped up the sun whilst grinning like a Cheshire cat for the whole day. Sarah felt exactly the same.

You pull off food poisoning so well darling. Food poisioning is the new black. You saw it here first.

I continued to bronze away whilst checking my poor little sick pea was still alive on a regular basis. She survived and pulled through with style.

We finished off on a tiny little beach where everyone ate whilst we stole the last of the suns rays, and sped back to our base camp beach feeling sun kissed, salty, bruised and content. Sarah was feeling a little bit more fresh albeit exhausted so I tucked her up in bed to charge her batteries whilst I devoured Brazils supply of crisps.

On Thursday, Sarah woke up feeling like a new woman so we had cake for breakfast to celebrate. Any excuse. We then decided to soak up some more sun which resulted in me looking like an actual tomato, before catching our boat back to Rio. I was super excited to get back to Lemon Spirit and catch up with all our new found chums/chumettes who were hanging around Rio for a few days with us. 

We got back Leblon and went to nosh off a classic Brazilian dish which includes all the carbs you can imagine. Literally my heaven. Chicken, chips, rice and refried beans. Dribbling now. Gimme. We went to bed feeling full, bronzed (really fucking burnt actually) and excited to go be tourists in Rio and drink all of the Caiprihanas the following day. I'm too in love with life when travelling.

We woke up fresh as a daisy on Monday morning and I did a little cry of joy that I was waking up in Rio and not having to go to work. That really is one of life's little pleasures.

It was still cloudy outside (so emotional right now) so we decided to go and look around the largest favela in Rio, Rocinha. I thought it was a bit harsh paying money to go and see where the less well off live for our personal enjoyment, but we were told the money we paid went towards their community which is great. I felt happy to be a tourist again after that. We got a bus to the top of the favela and walked right down to the bottom, talking to people and learning about their lives as we went.

We saw some absolutely gorgeous sights from above the city and also some very eye opening sights. They don't all have electricity, so take it upon themselves to wire their own houses up to pylons and the result is terrifying and probably the most unsafe thing I've seen. Very scary.

I learnt an interesting fact about favelas too, because I'm all about the culture, me. If the son/daughter of a family start their own family, they don't move out into a new abode; they actually build a house on top of their parents house. No escaping the parents. Bad times, bad times.

When we were walking through the favela and down the steep, windey steps to the bottom, it was mind blowing to look up and see the houses piled high on of top of each other in a never ending health and safety nightmare. If one fell down, the whole place would fall down in an enormous domino effect.

We strolled past houses upon houses all painted in different colours and all condensed into the smallest of spaces, and came across these 3 guys dancing and singing so we stopped to watch. They were doing a local dance which was some sort of breakdancing, martial arts, singsong mash up and was rather impressive. They were incredibly strong and tried to get us involved which ended terribly. We were flayling all over the place and nearly got kicked in the face several times whilst sweating profusely; which I blame on the sun coming out rather than the stress of the situation. It was definitely the stress of the situation.

After nearly being knocked out and bent in ways we don't bend, we finished off our walk and met a few more locals along the way. One man had dressed his dog up in clothes, sunglasses and a hat and I'm still not really sure why. Weirdo. 

The favelas aren't half as dangerous anymore as they used to be, as there is a strong police presence around which has stopped gun crime. I didn't feel particularly at risk at all, but people used to get shot all the time when the police first showed up, including children, but this has stopped now all together. Thankfully I lived to tell the tale!

That afternoon we decided to go and sit with a cocktail on Ipanema Beach and watch the surfers doing their thaaang. I have a new found appreciation for Brazilian men. Especially the ones running around topless with their surfboards. I can't even. Dribbling. 

After the surfers had disappeared and we'd been offered drugs and massages aplenty, we decided to do one back to the hostel for more drinks and a game of cards against humanity with everyone. There's a total hottie who works at the hostel who was also joining in the fun. His brother came by and he literally has the coolest name I've ever met.... RODRIGO RODRIGUEZ! Come on now, best name ever. This is now my future child's name. 

Tomorrow we go to Ilha Grande to chase the sun and explore some stunning beaches, bitches. Over and out.

On Friday afternoon, my 6000 mile adventure to meet my best friend in Rio De Janeiro began. Sarah's been out there for a few days already and the jealousy was getting too much, so when I woke up on Friday morning it felt like Christmas. And I realllly love Christmas.

I had half a day at work and ran out of the door at 12.45pm with the dream of beaches, coconuts, salty hair and sun kissed skin at arms reach of becoming reality. I made it to the airport just in time for a few glasses of champagne and to read up on the best bars in Rio to get us started when I arrived. 

The pre flight nerves starting kicking in, but the champagne helped. I am the worst flier ever and need to hold someone's hand on takeoff, which can get awkward when I'm travelling on my own. Lucky stranger. I went to see which gate to meander too and low and behold, my flight was delayed. Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be when I only have an hour between connecting flights. Just superb! We took off over an hour late and landed just as my flight to Rio left, meaning I was now stranded in Paris Charles de Gaulle airport for the next 12 hours. Pure joy. I thankfully lucked in and was put up in the Ibis hotel and befriended a lovely Brazilian girl who was in the same boat as me called Ariella. We chatted over a croissant and cup of coffee the next morning where she told me all the best places to visit in Rio and what to do.

I was now finally en route to meet the wench and get the fiesta started! I landed at 5pm and jumped in a taxi to my hostel in Leblon, Lemon Spirit. I walked into my dorm and saw Sarah which induced a lot of girly screaming and excitement. BITCHES REUNITED! She had made my bed because she's a good woman and after dumping my bags we ran straight to the bar to get on the Caiprihanas, catch up and get planning some mischief.

After a very disturbed sleep and being reminded of the joys of hostel life, we decided to go for a wander around the city on Sunday as the weather wasn't great. Well done us deciding to go away in Brazil's winter. Luckily, winter still means 29 degrees average but the clouds can come along and make me a very unhappy chappy. Thankfully, the next few days are set to be wonderful so I can be boastful and tanned at last.

We met a bearded, bronzed American called John the previous evening, who joined us for our stroll. We mastered the bus route and as it drove us ridiculously fast and ran a few red lights, we narrowly missed mowing down all the crazy bastards running the Rio marathon. I had to be very careful not to chunder so I would highly recommend not using the buses in Rio. I didn't think I got motion sickness but I nearly produced my breakfast for the Brazilian man in front of me. 

We survived and firstly headed to Escadaria Selaron which was very colourful. An artist decorated the steps with more than 2000 tiles from all over the world and the result is very cool. He was found dead on the steps a few years later though. Not so cool.

After the steps, we went to the ugliest cathedral ever that looked like something out of Star Trek but not as space age. Inside was beautiful but they could have found a better architect to design the outside. Christ. Literally.

After discussing for far too long how ugly it was, we had enough culture for one day and all concurred that we wanted to drink out of a coconut on the beach. The clouds will not defeat us. We'll show you, winter you bitch. We strolled along Copacobana and onto Ipanema beach where we spotted a drag Amy Winehouse act, who was placed perfectly by a bar that served fresh coconut water. Turns out Amy didn't like us watching him and just swore at us a lot whilst miming the same Winehouse songs over and over again. Very poorly. He also thrusted vigorously which is still giving me nightmares. Amy Winehouse with a bulge is not ideal.

We saw off our coconuts and strolled back to the hostel with achy feet and a GoPro full of snaps. We shared a couple of beers, got some food and caught up with everyone about their days, their travels and their lives. Very much in my happy place right now.

I've wanted to buy this book for a while now after discovering one of her poems which I thought was utterly beautiful.

Emery's writing is stunning and she has a way with words that rings so true. I'm sure many people will agree.

Here are a few of my favourite pieces from her book, Become. B-E-A-UTY!!

I want you most of all.

xo

This is why my blog will never have more than 1 reader. I cannot post every day. I am officially useless. I have been spending my time having far too much fun and neglecting my love of writing (if we can call it that)

In my time away from the blog, I've been planning my next epic travel sesh with the best witch, Sarah. It is 12 days today until I jet off to meet her in Rio de Janeiro where we will be soaking up the sun, seeing the obvious sights and travelling to Buenos Aires via Iguassu Falls. I'm only going to Argentina to eat alllll of the steak and drink allll of the red wine. Wine tip I have learnt along the way... Always buy a red from Argentina and you will not be disappointed. So far so true in my experience. I'm also going to learn the Argentinian tango. That will go well.

I've been spending much of my time drinking champagne with my favourite faces, winning lots of money and being sophisticated at Goodwood, dressing up as an astronaut and not remembering much at the rugby sevens and running riot around my home town in a whirlwind of gin, beautiful people and bad hangovers. Summer is definitely the time for over drinking and creating fabulous memories.

Oh, and I read a book. Not a big achievement you may say. It is. I used to love reading but have struggled to find a book that I can get into in a long time. I met someone who we shall call mystery man on a night out, went to the casino, laughed a lot and he gave me a screenplay of Closer. Loved it. Very sad. Very cool. Thank you.

Instagram update below. Time to go and plan where the hell I'm staying in Rio and try to find my Brazil ready bod. Second one is going to be difficult. Had Domino's last night. Shit.

xo