About Marianne McPhee
Marianne McPhee was born in London and has been a traveler throughout her life. She spent her summers in France and Spain on a boat, her teenage years living in the USA, and months backpacking through Europe and Morocco. She has spent eight months traveling through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia where she also taught English and then ventured to Australia for more exploration. She is a graduate from Boston University and currently works in the travel industry in London.
Latest Posts by Marianne McPhee
I recently returned to grey and not-really-warm-anymore London from a week long work trip to the Philippines. Yes I know, it’s hard <ahem>. My initial reason for being there was to attend PHITEX – The Philippines Travel Exchange. Essentially a whole lot of people in the travel industry (tour operators and travel agents) sat at an assigned table while a LOT of Philippine hotels, destination management companies (those are like the people on the ground who help us organise everything for our clients) and other tourist companies came to meet with us, show us what they have on offer and convince us to send our clients their way.
It made for a very. very. long. day. But an interesting one. It’s the first conference type event my company has ever sent me on and it was definitely an interesting one to attend. I was one of a handful from the UK, the large majority of the visiting travel agents were either Russian or Korean. No idea that Russia had such a huge interest in the Philippines. So learned that.
But, believe it or not, that wasn’t the part of the trip I was most excited about. I couldn’t wait for hotels, beaches, and HEAT. Yes, it was rainy season, and yes, it rained in Manila, but I didn’t care. It was hot, I was staying in beautiful rooms, and I was in the Philippines. Any other traveller <not the gypsy kind> can understand I hope.
So what were the Philippines like? I had no idea what to expect from Manila. Some people told me it was good, others had a very different opinion. Things like ‘trash on the streets’ and ‘pollution’ come to mind…
My first impression was nothing but positive. Okay, so I was a little more spoiled than on my average holiday. I was met at my airport gate, after a very long flight, by my hosts and given a necklace of flowers that smelled a lot better than me. I was escorted through immigration, got my bag, and into my awaiting taxi to my first hotel, The Peninsula.
I was sleep deprived and unwashed and probably slightly delirious, but walking through those doors was…like walking onboard the Titanic. Really, people. Yes, I mean the ship. The doors of the lobby were opened by men in SAILOR SUITS. So that confused me. Then there was the grand lobby. Marble everywhere, a double sweeping staircase, a live jazz band, chandeliers bigger than my bedroom… All it needed was couples waltzing away while men with big fat cigars sat in their private room dealing blackjack or whatever it is they played on the Titanic… Come to think of it, this definitely could have been a grand lobby in Las Vegas, or Monaco too. Minus the casino games. But I’m pretty sure the flash cars were parked outside as required by any high flying casino (right?).
Unfortunately <or not> I didn’t get up to any crazy late cigar-smoking nights in Manila or anywhere else in the Philippines. More sleeping at every possible chance, and dinners hosted by our hotel.
After PHITEX ended the real fun began. It was time to go to Palawan. Me and about 15 other very smart travel agents (not the unfortunate other 100 or so who headed off to the more well known islands and were plagued with rain. Muahaha. Sorry.)
The fun was paused, briefly, whilst my stomach reminded me that I was in Asia and what the heck happened to food like pasta and chips. Enough said about that.
I recovered just in time for a meal hosted by the Mayor of Palawan just to boost our egos <and give us rainmakers which I thoroughly enjoyed carting through airports on the way home…> and then an amazing firefly tour. I had no idea what this was going to be, but we were all herded onto long narrow boats in the pitch dark while a lovely man rowed us down a mangrove river where I could see…nothing. Nothing, except hundreds and hundreds of little tiny lights. Fireflies! It was absolutely stunning. The mangroves were covered in them, and as long as you stay away from the thoughts that these are actually just little bugs; essentially flies; then it really is a beautiful sight.
After that night, and my first decent sleep, we were taken to what is one of the Philippines best assets. The underground river. I’ve been into mountain caves before where you learn all about stalactites and stalagmites (stalaCtite – ceiling, stalaGmite – from the ground. I did remember something) but there was something even more astounding about being able to row down a river and see it all. The bats were pretty neat too… Then it was back to the mangrove rivers for snake spotting. No monkeys though. We really wanted to see the monkeys.
After that, my last few days were spent on Apulit Island in the north part of Palawan doing things like snorkelling, exploring caves, feeding the tropical fish, more snorkelling, candlelit dinners on the beach and relaxing in my villa standing on stilts over the water. Leaving <on our private plane> was not easy…
A week definitely wasn’t long enough so hopefully I’ll be back again whenever I can make it. Until then, as always, the photos will have to suffice.
All of you out there who think you drink enough water – I bet you don’t. Okay, maybe some of you do, but I thought I was one of those people and turns out…Nope. Or maybe it’s my potassium levels…
So I’ve told you already that I broke the ice and started running for my journey from Couch to 42k with Heather. Well guess what happened after that first run? Probably mere hours after I told you about it. The. worst. muscle. cramps. ever.
I’ve had muscle cramps before. I was an athlete in a former American high school life, and I remember the times when I’d be doing my laps in the pool and suddenly my foot would decide to try curling up into a ball. Then it was out of the pool, bottle of water in one hand, banana in the other, while the physio did things to your foot that felt worse than the cramp in the first place.
I thought that was bad.
So the day of my first run went great. I got up early, jogged around Clissold Park, got home, got ready and jumped on my bike to head to work. Left work and (this may have been the mistake) headed straight to my weekly netball game.
I got home and everything was great. Had some dinner, watched some iPlayer, got ready for an early restful night. All nicely tucked up in bed, straighten my legs out. And it hits me. It starts at the toes. The arches of the foot. My calf, my shins, my….everything. My whole right leg was in one giant muscle spasm. This is a muscle cramp like I didn’t even know existed. Unfortunately in the middle of the night, home alone, with no idea how to just make it stop, I felt pretty helpless as I yelled at nobody in particular while trying my best to stand up on it.
According to the ever helpful WebMD (checked after the fact…) muscle cramps can be caused by:
-Poor circulation (think I’m okay here, I was recently told I had very good blood pressure)
-Over exertion of the calf muscles (Running, cycling and netball in the same day. Hmm….)
-Insufficient stretching (I stretched…for a few seconds…)
-Exercising in the heat (Obviously not)
-Muscle fatigue (Check)
-Magnesium or potassium deficiency (Check)
-Calcium deficiency (I love cheese…so no)
-Malfunctioning nerves (think I’m okay here)
-Side effect to medicine (My drug intake is pretty low…)
So at least five of those symptoms are pretty likely to fit my description pretty well. And the worst one? Dehydration. Think about how much water you drink in a day. I mean really think about. I always thought my agua levels were all good. But when I’m jogging a couple of miles, cycling about 8 miles, AND playing netball? I need a LOT more water in this body of mine to keep going.
Anyway, lesson learned. Big time. Please don’t let my mistake be yours. Be all about the agua.
“You’re going to Cork over Easter weekend? Everything will be shut. Yes I mean everything. You might not be able to eat. Take food.”
When you get encouragement like that when you tell someone you’re going on holiday, you either laugh, or stare in shock, speechless. I did one, Cam did the other. Luckily, our hilariously sarcastic friends were wrong, but they weren’t all wrong.
Cam and I arrived very (very…) early on Good Friday morning in Cork, Ireland. After being greeted by the enormous hill that preceded the entrance to Sheila’s Hostel, and taking a much needed nap (I really did mean very early) we got up to discover that…nothing was open. Okay, not nothing. But when you’re on a girls holiday in Ireland of all places and the sale of alcohol is banned. Well, it may as well have been nothing as far as we were concerned that day.
Don’t worry, we did pull ourselves together and actually decide to explore Cork beyond the pint glasses. We found a Gourmet Burger place (not GBK…proper local like) and gorged on the biggest beef patties and buns I’ve seen in awhile, then over the river and into the high street we went. Heading down St Patrick Street, we explored Cork’s city centre. We found O’Connaill’s on French Church Street, where the hot chocolate had come highly recommended. It didn’t disappoint. Walked through the English Market and bought ourselves one tiny little chocolate each at the amazing chocolate truffle stand, and Cam discovered her new favourite necklace at one of the alleyway’s vintage shops.
Then, the perfect way to round off the evening – the one place, possibly in all of Cork that had a bottle of wine or two to share with us? Sheila’s Hostel. I knew I picked this place for a reason. We also spent the evening getting to know half of the Muycullen under-17′s boys basketball team who were staying in our hostel for a tournament. I hope they did well, I have no idea, but apparently they’re pretty good…
Saturday was reserved for the Franciscan Wells beer festival. From a completely dry day in Cork to a, well, not dry one. With some new friends from Sheila’s and fellow festival folk, we tried out as many different Irish beers as we could handle. We felt it was our obligation after all… only fair really.
We did manage to make appearances at both Crane Lane and Mutton Lane – two bars/pubs that had also come highly recommended. Crane Lane had a great outdoor area down the um, lane. Mutton Lane was the absolute definition of a pokey old man’s pub but was brimming with charm. We didn’t stay (they didn’t serve food, we were hungry) but I think I really liked that place.
Sunday was kicked off with a proper roast, a film, and yes, the beer festival. It ended, in my opinion, the best way possible. We had met a comedy group, also staying in our hostel (Sheila’s is clearly quite the hive of activity…) called Foil, Arms & Hog. We were meant to be seeing their act, but the lack of a crowd on Easter Sunday meant the night was canceled, and they went back off to their home city of Dublin. Leaving me and Cam and the City Limits Comedy Club owner, Brian, to ourselves. So what else was there to do except lock up the doors, help ourselves to the bar and have a pool/Connect Four/table football tournament between the three of us while is DJ-ed on my iPod. I have never had a proper lock in at a bar like this, but it was a pretty fantastic if not completely random night.
Monday we went crazy and did the tourist thing by taking a train to Cobh, a seaside town and also the last port of call for the Titanic. We chose not to go into the Heritage Museum which apparently was a huge mistake but Cobh – little tip for you – don’t make your museum looking so small and unappealing from the outside if you’re going to charge for it. Apparently, once inside, it’s fascinating but the entrance was very deceiving. So we spent a few hours wandering the coast line, eating fish ‘n chips by the sea, and seeing the aftermath of a local fire disaster. Back on the train to Cork then…
Tuesday was a much more successful tourist day. It was also our last day in Ireland. We got up and headed on the bus to Blarney to kiss the damn stone I’ve been told so much about. It actually turns out that Blarney is a stunning little piece of land that isn’t all about the stone. The castle itself is pretty amazing, especially the tiny cavernous dungeons, and the poison garden is great, even if the police have confiscated the marijuana plants (seriously).
We explored Blarney’s Rock Cove with its Wishing Steps (apparently the witch here has agreed to grant everyone’s wishes if you go down the stairs backwards with your eyes closed in exchange for living in the grounds…) and Witch’s Garden and even searched for fairies in the grove.
Also – kissing that stone? Not as easy as you may think at first.
A few days ago, I had dinner at Corrigan’s restaurant in Mayfair. A fantastic place run by Richard Corrigan – a fun, outspoken Irishman who knows his food. I was there to meet Nadim Sadek, the owner of Inish Turk Beg – a quiet little island off the West coast of Ireland.
The night kicked off with champagne and canapés to break the ice with the other travel industry guests. I found myself talking to two women as we bonded over our love for the parmesan encrusted loveliness that kept appearing on the trays…
I was assigned my seat at the foot of the table which felt strange, but luckily all the talk was happening at the other end where all eyes were on Nadim as he told his story of making his millions, leaving his business and buying a rundown island almost on a whim after deciding that it was important for his children to be more connected to their Irish heritage. Now, Inish Turk Beg is a beautiful piece of Irish wild land where Nadim and the rest of the Inish Turk Beg citizens raise horses, distill their own special brand of whiskey in beautiful handblown glass bottles, create their own style of amazing Irish music and generally live their lives completely.
As I enjoyed my steak & kidney pie and fillet of beef, the whiskey was passed around and enjoyed, perhaps a touch too much.. By the time dinner was over, and Richard Corrigan joined us from the kitchen an unknown number of champagne and wine bottles had already been emptied. By the time the restaurant was shut down, the whiskey bottle was dry too.
A few years ago, I spent a very short weekend in Dublin and otherwise have never been on Irish soil. Next week, I’m headed to Cork for a few days (thank you Bank Holiday) and, while Cork and Inish Turk Beg are not comparable places, the food, the company, the whiskey, the music, and the spirit of Inish Turk Beg and Nadim’s passion have me really excited to at least see a taste of that in the Irish countryside.
Hopefully it won’t be long until I can get myself a ‘lungful of life‘ on Inish Turk Beg itself, but meanwhile I’ll be sure to let you know how my own Irish experience goes next week.
You think Tenerife is all hot and tropical? Think again. It’s an amazing diverse little island with a lot more going on than you might first assume.
I headed there for a week of visiting a wonderful friend, Naomi, and got a lot more than just the hot sun and the beach. I also got snow, rain, cities, fishing villages, and volcanoes.
Tenerife has multiple microclimates. The number varies depending on who you ask, but travelling the island from North to South you need clothes for all four seasons.
Heading South for the sun
I arrived in Los Cristianos, Naomi’s neighbourhood, and got just was I was expecting (and craving after months of cold English weather) – hot sun, white beaches, swimming pools, hotels and lots of tourists. Los Cristianos isn’t quite as built up as it’s close neighbour, Las Playas de Las Americas (literally, the beaches of the Americas, or Americans), but it was still the sunny escape most of us Brits crave around this time of year.
I spent my time there filling up on paella, tapas and cocktails whenever I could, exploring the boardwalks and the tourist beaches.
How do you tell a tourist beach from a local untouched beach in Tenerife? Tenerife doesn’t have white sand, the sand here is black. All that glistening white stuff is imported from Africa just to fulfill the picture perfect beach image…fit for a postcard.
Santa Cruz: Soggy city life
Okay, I admit that Naomi insists that I managed to pick the worst week to see Santa Cruz, but I can only go with what I saw. I was there for Carnaval week, and so was ready for a day of parties in the street, with drinks and carnival food in the hot sun. What I got? Cold, grey skies, and more rain than I’d left behind in England. Less than an hour’s drive back down South in Los Cristianos, it was 30 degrees and baking. In Santa Cruz, I had a scarf and jeans on and was still cold. Having said that, Santa Cruz is a nice city, and while it’s much more built up than the rest of Tenerife, it’s worth a visit to explore. I felt like it fit somewhere in between Barcelona and Madrid, it’s mainland siblings. And I’m sure the Carnaval would have been a lot more impressive if the umbrellas hadn’t blocked most of the view… I did manage to get one quick snap in between rain clouds though.
Pico del Teide: Let it snow
One of the sites on the top of my Tenerife list was visiting Mount Teide. The highest elevation point in Spain, and one of the world’s largest volcanoes, Teide and the surrounding National Park are unmissable. You hear the word ‘lunar landscapes’ thrown around a lot when people describe this place, but, well, few things could say it better. It really is like another world. And at the elevation, forget the 30 degree heat of Los Cristianos, at this point I was even missing the chill of Santa Cruz. In Teide National Park, there was snow at my feet, not that I could feel them, and we in fact had to wait over an hour before leaving the small cafe as we couldn’t see more than 30 metres ahead of us from the snow and fog.
When we finally did get out, the paths towards the volcano were almost deserted (not that many people crazy enough to leave the beaches) which meant a peaceful light trek through some seriously strange rock formations.
Small towns and smaller children
After spending time in the capital, the tourist capital, and the highest point on the island, I got a chance to see some local Canarian life in the towns of Candelaria and La Laguna.
Naomi is an English teacher, teaching mostly very young children both in the capital and Candelaria, a much smaller town on the East Coast. Both Candelaria and La Laguna are beautiful towns well worth exploring and far away from the tourist hoards. And the children know their colours, numbers and body parts vocabulary very well…
A recent catch up with wonderful friends Stateside has had me reminiscing on my days in the good ol’ US of A. If you’re just getting to know me, then I shall explain: From age 11 to 21 I lived in the States and was lucky enough to travel around a bit and see some of this rather large country.
Being an East Coast girl, I explored the Atlantic side a good amount, from time in the sun on a family Florida holiday to freezing my little derrière off during my university days in Massachusetts. Two very different places. Pretty incredible when you think about it. That’ll always be the selling point of the US (in my humble opinion) – it is seriously crazy how different each region of this country can be. Okay, you’ve heard that before, but hey, I speak the truth.
In Florida, my best memories are of visiting the Keys. My parents hired a car and we travelled down towards the States’ southernmost point. Road trip: The classic American holiday. Oh yes.
In Key Largo it was all about swimming with the dolphins. The feeling of being pushed through the water by a creature like that was amazing and is hard to forget. We had two different experiences – one was playing with the trained Flippers of Florida, and the second was simply swimming in a natural ocean water enclosure with untrained dolphins. Just hanging out with the dolphins, as you do. The second experience scared me a little. Turns out I’m a bit of a chicken. But looking back, it was truly amazing getting to see these creatures close up.
Then of course there was Key West. Florida is fantastic because they live for visitors and that’s visitors of all kinds. I was young when I visited, and loved the street entertainers at Key West’s sunset parties. I loved the Key Lime pies, and I loved the ridiculous cheesy tourist spots like the southernmost point. If I went back to Florida now, I’d love the unrivalled nightlife of the Keys, Miami’s Strip…and probably still the Key Lime pies…
I need to get back there soon. Getting hungry…
*This post was sponsored by Ocean Florida however they were not involved in the writing of any of the content.
The chilly weather today has had me thinking back to my Croatian holiday and memories of a hot sun, clear water and beautiful islands. My office desk doesn’t seem to quite compare… Ah well.
I went on a fantastic tour of Croatia’s main stops last month, and I definitely had my favourites along the way…
I arrived in Dubrovnik airport and already the scene was set – the landing strip is surrounded by stunning hills rolling down to the waters edge just out of sight. A few minutes drive and we were welcomed into the Villa Dubrovnik. You’d miss it if you didn’t know about it – the hotel is below street level, built on the cliff side hanging right over the stunning blue sea below. From the road, all you can see is a white tower with a door and a friendly looking man waiting for you. After seeing that the tower was in fact a lift I was shown down into the Villa. It’s a stunning bolthole, just ten minutes walk from Dubrovnik’s Old Town (but why walk when you can take the hotel’s private boat?).
After soaking in the views from my waterfront balcony, I headed into town for a little exploration. There are only two ways in and out of the town through the old city gates, and no cars are allowed in. Perfect pedestrian escape. After walking around the city walls I found the main promenade, a small square brimming full with the town market and the old harbour. But the best parts are more hidden. Off the main street, the town is riddled with narrow winding alleys full of small local restaurants whose tables and chairs flood the streets every evening, and hole in the wall bars selling local beer and impressive cocktail lists. A wander around the edges of the town had me discovering a small door carved into the outer walls. Through the door, down some rock stairs, and I had discovered a hidden bar/café clinging to the outside walls. It was absolutely the best place in town to sit with a cold beer taking in the sun and the endless sea views. It also happened to be the perfect cliff diving spot if you dare…
Korčula is like a smaller island version of Dubrovnik. I stayed in the Lešić Dimitri Palace which is a beautiful boutique hotel. There are apartments of all sizes scattered down an alley of the old town leading down to the water and the hotel’s restaurant. I was staying in the Venice residence – an enormous 3 bedroom apartment, styled and furnished to an impeccable degree. The giant dining table and chairs made me feel rather tiny, but the beautiful stone bath tub made it all better…
Korčula was the perfect island for peaceful afternoon wanderings and finding secluded manmade piers jutting out from the rocks – perfect for cracking open my holiday book and taking a dip in the crystal clear waters. In the evening it was all about discovering impromptu singing groups under ancient arches and a cold drink sitting by the water’s edge. Then I couldn’t resist heading back to Lešić Dimitri to indulge in the private balcony to listen to a live musical performance going on below. Perfect.
Hvar Island, Split and Zagreb were my next stops and all are beautiful Croatian hits well worth a visit. But we all have our favourites right?
Before I could get on the boat, I had to don my wind and waterproof coverall. I felt a bit like a balloon but then again so did everybody else, and it was actually pretty comfy. Then, after a little safety briefing by our skipper, Henrik, (it’s like riding a horse apparently), I donned my ski goggles, zipped up my marshmallow suit and climbed aboard the RIB boat. That’s Rigid Inflatable Boat. I was off for a splash (sorry) of island hopping in West Sweden.
Once upon a time, apparently, the sea was silver with herring. That’s according to the locals we meet on the islands. There was a time when you could dip buckets into the water and they’d come up brimming with the country’s national dish. The fish have come and gone from Sweden’s west coast, but now they’re back (in slightly less legendary amounts) they make for a great dish and another reason to head this way.
My first stop was Pater Noster. Small enough to throw a stone over (almost) I enjoyed a glass of bubbly at the top of an iconic 19th century red iron lighthouse to accompany the amazing 360 degree views. After exploring the island (hunting down the outdoor hot tub) and enjoying some warm fish soup, it was off again to Marstrand Island.
Marstrand is definitely a summer playground for the Swedish. The island was full of picture perfect white houses with red roofs and stunning flower gardens. Along the harbour, people were sitting out in the sun enjoying themselves at the cafés or shopping in the boutiques (I gave in to my retail addiction too…) before walking up to the fort to explore and climb the walls for sunbathing on the grass, or going down to the beaches and harbours around each corner of coast.
Leaving Marstrand, the RIB boat caused quite the stir as it sped between the yachts on our way to Åstol for more amazing seafood (including my first taste of herring) before heading to the lovely Salt & Sill Restaurant and Hotel for yes, more food. I lost count of how many meals I ate in one day. They served us one of their classic meals– three bite sized portions of different herring dishes, paired with three glasses of schnapps – a different flavour to match each different herring.
Then we were singing traditional schnapps songs, drinking our shots and enjoying our fish. A hot coffee on the balcony wrapped up in a blanket was the perfect unwind after all that eating. Salt & Sill is home to Sweden’s first floating sauna too which you can hire for the night. You’ll be out at sea for a night of steaming away, bubbles on the balcony and sleeping to the sound of nothing but the local seals. Pretty great, right? After my coffee I was on my way to my own hotel’s sauna…
At Björholmens Marina hotel, after dropping my bags in my waterfront studio room, I got into my new swimsuit courtesy of a Marstrand boutique, wrapped up in my fluffy robe and headed down the boardwalk along the harbour’s waters to the sauna. But before I steamed away, there was one thing I had to do first. Go swimming. To make the sauna all that more welcome, I first climbed down the ladder, shut my eyes and leaped into the chilly Swedish waters. Refreshing just about covers it. But it’s all relative – the sauna is open year round, and in the heart of winter, the hotel cuts holes in the frozen water for you to jump in – so the water I was paddling in was practically balmy. I still shivered. The sauna was definitely welcome.