Last week I got on a plane with three other blog friends for a six-day girlie trip.

As you do. 

We’ve been friends for a number of years now – meeting in person over five years ago at the very first Annual Bloggers Bash – and after a random conversation last year about holidays we spontaneously decided to take a trip together. Within a few hours we were booked into a beautiful apartment… in Dubrovnik.

Again, as you do. 

It’s been months and months of waiting, and now it has inevitably gone far too quickly. We’ve walked along the Walls of Dubrovnik, explored Old Town and Fort Lovrijenac, admired the Cloisters at the Franciscan Monastery, done a Game of Thrones tour with someone who was a stand-in on the show for all but one of the seasons, sat in the shade by Dubrovnik West Harbour (during which a kind waiter at a local restaurant came to our rescue when Helen dropped her sunglasses in the sea), ate sorbet while the swallows were flying around above us, watched the sunset from Park Gradac, sang YMCA in a take-away, relaxed by Dubrovnik Port, took hundreds and hundreds of photographs and climbed seemingly never ending sets of what must have been a bajillion stairs. It’s one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. 

It’s been easy. There’s been no confrontation or bickering, everyone has got on and done their own thing, they’ve offered help and business advice and ideas, and we’ve had numerous belly laughs.

There’s also been plenty of 10 Kunas. With the currency of most of Dubrovnik being the Croatian Kuna, and with the toilet near the main entrance to Old Town charging 10 kuna to use them, it has become the phrase of the trip: “I need a 10 kuna…” “Does anyone need a 10 kuna before we go?” Little did we know, the toilets were free if we ate at the restaurant adjacent, which we did on several occasions. SO MANY 10 KUNAS WASTED. 

As expected, I have been a gorgeous shade of maroon throughout. I’m very pale skinned and get burnt just by looking in the general direction of the sun, so right from the first day my skin (even with regular top-ups of factor 50) screamed a resounding NOPE and started turning a lovely shade of pink as soon as we stepped out of the apartment. Combined with the sweat from the heat and humidity, I’ve resembled a rather sexy glazed ham (‘glazed’ was Lucy’s rather accurate observation) in a pair of sunglasses for the last six days. I’m still waiting for the day where ‘pink and sweaty’ becomes a fashionable look – I have a feeling I might be waiting a while. 

And I slept. And slept. And slept some more. For the first time in months, I’ve managed to sleep throughout the night, and during the afternoons too. At first I thought it was because we had spent nine hours out in the sun and had walked about eight miles on the first day, but then I realised it must have been because I needed it. This morning when I woke up I felt truly rested.

Saying that, there’s still the flight tonight and a train journey home before I get back to Birmingham. Perhaps I’ll have another little sleep on the plane…