My boyfriend and I are the typical early-to-mid-twenty-something couple. Living together in a small, rented flat (with a mutual friend), paying off student debt and saving for a Mortgage means we do all the work, with little play.
We both have full time jobs, as well as freelance jobs on the side, leaving little time in the evenings to do much more than to rush a hurried dinner and catch a few chapters of a book (or in my boyfriends case, an hour on the PS4), before going to bed in preparation for doing it all over again.
As with all early-to-mid-twenty-something couples, we know this won’t last forever, and we still think it’s important to escape and treat ourselves every once in a while.
This time, we treated ourselves to a cheap week away in Menorca, where we could relax in the sun, snorkel in the sea and drink away the long, warm evenings together.
I’ll let you into a little well-known secret; I’m absolutely terrible at Geography. Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with volcanos, rocks, the water cycle, and other classroom Geography topics. But it’s locations, directions and map-based Geography that I completely suck at (I can’t drive anywhere without my Sat Nav).
Having never been to Menorca before, I had absolutely NO idea where it actually was. I knew it was a Spanish island, but I thought it would be somewhere near Tenerife or Greece (?!). But, actually, it’s a part of the Balearic islands located in the Mediterranean Sea, next to Mallorca and Ibiza.
After a short two hour flight, we arrived to a quiet hotel room in Cala’n Bosch with a pool and a view of the sea, and we finally exhaled all the tension that had been building since the new year.
I’m proud to say that we spent six of our seven days doing absolutely nothing. We sat by the pool and read, sat on the beach and read, swam, ate, drank cocktails and watched the BBC World TV channel (the only one in English).
That’s honestly all there is to report.
On the second-to-last day, a Saturday, we went on an excursion across the island to the capital city Mahon. There, we learnt about the history of the island, as well as going on a boat trip around the port (the second-largest natural port in the world!) and visiting the island’s famous gin distillery.
That was more than enough to make me feel like I hadn’t completely ‘wasted’ the journey (otherwise we could have sat and done nothing at home, right?), but gentle enough to still be relaxing and enjoyable.
As with all holidays, it was over with far too quickly, and we soon found ourselves on another aeroplane flying back to Stansted. However, this time we were feeling recharged and optimistic about the future, as opposed to stressed and pessimistic about our early-to-mid-twenty-something lifestyle.
Reality has a cruel way of welcoming back those who’ve spent a week of escape. My car, parked in the long-stay airport car park, had a dead battery.
After a visit from the AA and a new battery, it wasn’t long into our journey home when it started to rain. And despite being tired and from a morning of travelling; despite being rudely awaken from our Menorcan dreamworld, I couldn’t help but smile.
Because a week in the sun with my boyfriend and my books every once in a while is enough to make the rain, and our early-to-mid-twenty-something woes unimportant.