I was up early to give me plenty of time to catch my bus at 12:15 to take me to Roquetas de Mar. I stopped for breakfast en route and had a delicious ham, tuna, cheese and tomato toastie… again for a very cheap fee. €4 for a toastie and a coffee.

I was a little apprehensive about getting the bus in a foreign country having never done it before. Searching beforehand didn’t make it clear whether a bus went direct from Almeria to near my hotel. If worst came to worst I could get off in Roquetas de Mar Centro and take a 45 minute walk to the hotel. It was only when I was looking the night before that I found that a bus does go near my hotel so I got on that, albeit a different bus number to what it said online. You can see why it was confusing.

The bus was rammed and I had to put my bigger backpack into the hold, which I wasn’t too thrilled about. Imagine having to put your bigger bags into the hold of the No. 59 bus in Manchester. You’d be worried it’d still be there by the time you got off. That was the situation I felt I was in considering there were many stops before mine over the 1hr 10m journey.

Not only that, I had no idea where my stop would be. It wasn’t like they announced it. Thankfully, relying on Google Maps I pressed the ‘Stop’ button when it looked like I was a minute away. I got off the bus telling the driver I have to get my bag, so he didn’t just blindly drive off. I opened the door and my bag had gone right down to the other ride of the space. I practically disappeared as I climbed in and struggled to reach it, getting on all fours, rummaging about like some kind of immobilised sea otter. I managed to grab my bag and climb out of the hold. I looked at myself and I was covered in dust. Good job my plan was to wash the clothes I had on once I landed at the hotel.

I stayed at the four-star Mediterraneo Bay Hotel. Ok, this isn’t really part of the typical travelling experience and does offer a degree of luxury, but after the pressure, stress and worry I’ve had to endure over the past eight months or so, I needed a three-night break to chill, where I could just sit on my arse by the pool doing very little and relax before the nitty gritty of travelling commenced.

The hotel is exactly what you think it is, and it doesn’t need me to describe it as most of, if not all of you, reading this will have been to similar places. It’s designed for couples and families, but at this time of year it’s quieter, full of older retired couples, and younger families. Only idiots like me were there on their own. It’s an all-inclusive place if you choose that option, but I didn’t. I chose this place because of the cost and location. It’s right on the beach and cost £140 for three nights and that included breakfast. It was a no brainer really. The all-inclusive food buffet was semi decent, nothing special. I ate out twice at two different restaurants on the beach, and at one point on both occasions I was the only one in the restaurant. It was kind of cool having a restaurant to yourself on the beach.

After washing the clothes I’d worn so far, I made my way to the pool and just spent the day there with my superlative playlist on. No one has a better one. Haha. I was content and relaxed, immersed in the world of music that makes me foot tap and bop on my sunbed, but it vitalises me and gives me energy. 

Sometimes what I’m describing might seem mundane but just sitting alone...minding my own business admiring the views...feeling the atmosphere and music is just something you can't put into words. It’s freedom. And my first day passed by without incident. 

Even though it was predominately Spanish clientele, there were a few Brits knocking about, and the best way to get chatting to any of them is when you see one donning a football shirt. It was a shame it was Chelsea, but given they’d just beaten Liverpool, it was an easy conversation opener. He was there family and it was him and his step dad who I spoke to every now and then when meeting at the bar or in the restaurant. It wasn’t really the kind of travel conversations with differing cultures I craved, but for where I was, it was always going to be treated like meeting any other Brit abroad in a resort.

BUT….disaster struck as I woke up at 4am on my second day having come down with some sort of flu… or even perhaps COVID as enough shit was going around back in the UK. I had a cough, a tight chest, headache, felt weak and felt light-headed. I had to spend the whole day in bed. I managed to make it down for dinner within the hotel but headed straight back to bed afterwards. 

I have to admit, this whole illness episode really disheartened me, and with much tougher tests on the trip coming up, I felt like going home or booking extra days in these surroundings and sacrificing a chunk of the immediate plans until I felt right. I was so down about it, I even thought about flying home when I was at my worst, but if this was a test of my mindset thrust upon me then I had to ride it out. I know I wanted to chill and relax, but this was ridiculous. It did at least force me into a full day of rest in bed. Fortunately, it was overcast even if warm, so I didn’t miss the sun. 

I felt a lot better the second day in the morning, so managed a stint by the pool. I even tried a beer or two, which wasn’t the best idea as it went straight to my head like the first cigarette of the day. I managed to make it out for dinner in one of the beachside restaurants, but I felt really off. What made it worse was that the wind really picked up as we got the brunt of a storm happening east of the resort, so the walk home was absolutely freezing. I went to bed early again with a hot lemon in tow as I had an early get up at 6:45 to catch a train back in Almeria to Granada, but I made the decision… if I woke up feeling shit then I was going to book another night at the resort until I felt well enough to travel and walk about Granada. It was also my first night staying in a hostel and I really didn’t want to be unwell for that. It was just a case of seeing how I felt when I woke up.