An entire decade of adulthood behind me, yet in many ways I feel no more mature than I did en route to London, ready for university and to eat the world.

However, on reflection, I’ve learnt a thing or two about how to function and, more or less, stay happy, as a real grown-up. Here are a few notes or polite pointers I’d throw in the direction of my teenage self…

1. You don’t have to be perfect

2. Stop worrying about your body, you look great

3. Learn to drive now, while mum and dad offer to pay for it

4. You need to keep doing sports, even if you think drinking and smoking are cooler right now

5. Take Spanish seriously, you’re not rubbish at languages, you just haven’t tried hard enough (and you might fall in love with a man from Mexico)

6. Nobody cares about your GCSE or A Level grades as an adult. People hardly ask about your degrees; Your communication and empathy are much more valuable

7. That backpacking trip will change your life

8. You don’t have to be the same as your friends; everyone has different paths, interests and styles

9. You’re not broken or mental, you just have undiagnsed adhd

10. Other people aren’t a measure of your worth; you don’t need approval from anybody else

11. You LOVE running, you literally run marathons

12. You LOVE anything to do with the ocean, and you’ll love scuba diving just as much as you think you will

13. Get braces as soon as the dentist tells you to; that one wonky tooth will become more wonky

14. Queerness isn’t a status to be achieved. You love people based on their personalities, the way they communicate and their hearts

15. Don’t feel guilty for buying clothes, getting your nails done or getting tattoos, you’re allowed to express yourself

16. Keep taking photos, keep filming things, keep writing. Your ability to do a bit of everything is an asset in the modern world

17. Stay curious — Asking a million questions isn’t a bad thing

18. Stop drinking - you can’t drink alcohol normally, your life is 1000x better without it

19. Your overdraft isn’t free money

20. Careers don’t look like what you’ve been taught; you don’t just ‘become a lawyer’ or a doctor or an academic. Most jobs are in the corporate world or involve many small tasks combined. Think bigger.

21. You’ll never regret the money you spend on travel and experiences, you’ll remember eating seafood with your sister in Lisbon and singing songs with your friends at festivals

22. Sometimes you’ll have big ideas, and people will think you are unrealistic or ‘too much’. You’re not.

23. Having hobbies is cool

24. Use SPF everyday

25. There are 1,000 versions of you. There is you who is a party girl in London, there is you who walks through the countryside with your parents in Devon, there is you alone, backpacking in El Salvador

26. You have so much time but also so little. If you want to do something, take action today

27. You will have your heart broken, and you will break hearts. Each time it feels like the world is ending, but it isn’t. You’ll fall in love again, and somebody will love you again.

28. Everything is going to be alright

As a gulp older Gen Z who’s spent her entire career working in tourism and hospitality marketing, I find myself straddling between two schools of thought. Yes, gentrification is bad.

Do I think that all creators, big or small, should take responsibility for the type of content they create? Yes.

Do I think that a homogenised, one-dimensional content output that feeds gentrification is an inevitable product of our increasingly globalised world? Maybe.

The influencer economy is one of the fastest-growing industries in our new digital landscape, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t think it held value.

Evidently, I myself have a travel-focused TikTok account. Yet my experience working for tourism boards, supporting small to medium sized businesses, and avoiding, wherever possible, over-tourism has provided me with much-needed context, a context that I fear many creators have never been taught.

helping or hindering destinations

The ethics of travel content plague my brain. Literally, all the bloody time.

In fact, the issue around social media influence and sustainable travel is so fascinating to me that I wrote my entire MA dissertation on it, but that’s a story for another day.

I obsess over the videos I post, wanting to sound informed about the destinations I visit, while remaining sensitive to each place’s unique history and socio-political context. However, I am only human, and often the popular experiences are touristy for one simple reason: they are the best things to do.

At the moment, I honestly believe the only strength traditional travel writing has over travel content is ethics. Journalists are trained to research, verify, and provide context. Because the world of travel journalism is largely gatekept, fewer people are published, resulting in, on the whole, a more considered, thoughtful approach to promoting destinations. In contrast, anyone with a phone can film a video about their trip and upload it for the world to see, no training required.

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However, this isn’t always the case. Take my home, Devon, in South West England, as an example. The region is entirely shaped by the tourism calendar. In winter, it’s calm; my family and I can enjoy a Sunday stroll in Salcombe and an overpriced shrimp sarnie at The Winking Prawn. But in summer? The small, winding streets become choked with oversized Land Rovers, driven by the ‘grockles’ (tourists) who account for an astonishing 50% of homeowners in the area. The result? Crowded streets in the summer and a ghost town in the winter. Add to that the soaring property prices that make it nearly impossible for locals to afford homes in their own town.

This tourism is age-old. It’s been influenced just as much by old-school travel writers who have written about ‘idyllic escapes’ in the Sunday Times, long before influencers began vlogging their ‘top UK staycation locations.’

This isn’t just a Devon issue. I laughed when a friend from Cuernavaca shared stories about how their local Costco becomes swamped with chilangos (tourists from Mexico City) during the holidays. It’s the same complaints we hear in Devon about Londoners: tourism disrupts, but when done right, it can become the lifeblood of rural communities.

what are we saying?

Tourist attitudes start with how we talk about these destinations. Continuing with my Devonian example, seeing videos about my hometown of Totnes being described as a “Hidden Gem” by TikTokers, or when people describe the locals as “friendly,” boils my blood.

This happens globally; hypocritically, I myself have almost certainly described places this way myself. It positions the traveller, the content creator, in the frame of a ‘discoverer,’ socially and economically above the impoverished locals who live ‘away’ from modern society. This totally detaches from the realities of being from a rural tourist destination, where usually, jobs, social services, and money are in shorter supply. And this example is just from the South West.

Add in layers of racism, the Western gaze that comes with visiting places like Vietnam or Mexico, and we’re faced with an entirely new issue.

i’ve been influenced

The influencer economy’s impact on travel content is undeniable. It is, after all, one of the fastest-growing industries in our digital world. But with that influence comes a responsibility. It’s easy to get swept up in the excitement of a place or an experience, but we must consider how much exposure a destination can handle.

Many influencers and content creators are often driven by what’s popular, what will get likes and shares, and often, this means promoting the places that are already over-touristed, further exacerbating issues like overcrowding and the displacement of local populations.

I’m not saying it’s wrong to share beautiful places, but as creators, we need to stop framing destinations in a way that contributes to their over-commercialisation. It’s not enough to be a “discoverer” of hidden gems. We need to be responsible in how we present these gems to the world, or if we even should.

the lesser of two evils?

I often question whether travel writing is inherently ‘better’ than influencing. The short answer is no, probably not. But I think each sub-sphere of travel media can learn from the other.

Travel writing needs to evolve; people aren’t sitting down to read the Sunday long reads the way they used to, but using platforms like Substack or video essays over on YouTube may just be the way forward. However, new media influencers need to make sure quality information is embedded into short-form content and to remain responsible for their power.

It’s possible to share content that showcases the beauty of a place while acknowledging the complexities it faces. The problem is when influencers gloss over the nuances of a place and feed into stereotypes or a shallow view of the local experience. Content creators have a huge responsibility to understand the places they’re documenting, to look beyond what’s aesthetic, and share stories that are nuanced, respectful, and mindful.

let’s be a bit reasonable

Ultimately, I think it’s about balance. We can still promote the beautiful locations that everyone loves to visit, but we must do so with an understanding of the consequences. Travel influencing and travel writing can coexist, but only if we bring more responsibility and nuance to the table. It’s time to think deeply about the impact of our content. Are we helping sustain a place and its people, or are we feeding the cycle of over-tourism and gentrification?

We need a shift in how we talk about destinations, a move away from the “hidden gem” narrative and towards a more honest, responsible approach to sharing travel stories. If we can learn to combine the best elements of both travel writing and influencing, informed, respectful, and contextual content, we can make a real impact in promoting sustainable and responsible tourism.

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Sandwiched between Honduras and Guatemala, this small country (roughly the size of Wales) sits on the Pacific coast, famous for its volcanic landscapes, incredib

le surfing beaches and, unfortunately, a long history of violent crime.

Following the civil war between 1980 and the early nineties, the country fell into civil unrest caused by gang violence, leading it to be dubbed the murder capital of the world during the 2010s. In 2019, a new government, led by Nayib Bukele, was elected and adopted a heavy-handed approach to crime, launching a campaign which incarcerated over 80,000 people. This saw a drastic shift in crime throughout the country, naturally sparking a growth in the tourism sector. Today, El Salvador is considered one of the hottest ‘new’ destinations for travellers, especially for backpackers snaking down the length of Central America.

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As somebody who is heavily interested in international politics, especially in relation to ethical tourism, the reports of human rights violations in El Salvadorian prisons concerned me. By visiting, was I going to be legitimising a government which is repressing its people? Furthermore, was I going to be able to experience the ‘real’ El Salvador, or simply a falsified version created for international tourists?

I decided to take the leap, keen to spend at least a few days exploring the bustling beach hub of Surf City, one of the country’s most popular travel destinations, surfing, chatting to the people who live there and eating pupusas.

As I was only able to visit for a few days, I was aware that I wouldn’t get a true taste of El Salvador, the way my friend Emily did by backpacking multiple places over the space of three weeks. Nonetheless, I shoved shorts, bikinis and my trusty Tevas into my backpack and headed to CDMX international airport bound for San Salvador.

key info

• Currency: US Dollar (USD), but also Bitcoin (Something I didn’t bother trying to use)

• Language: Spanish

• Religion: Predominantly Christian (mainly Roman Catholic and Evangelical).

• Visas: British citizens do not need a visa for short visits to El Salvador, allowing stays of up to 90 days for tourism.

• Weather: El Salvador has a tropical climate with warm temperatures year-round (around 25–32°C). There are two main seasons: a dry season (Nov–Apr) with lots of sunshine, and a rainy season (May–Oct) with heavy but often short afternoon showers. Coastal areas are hotter and more humid; higher regions are slightly cooler.

• Airport: El Salvador has one main international airport, Monseñor Óscar Arnulfo Romero International Airport (SAL), located about 45 minutes from San Salvador. We flew from London with one stop. The easiest way to reach the city or coast is by Uber or private transfer, which is what I did and was pretty affordable — it costs roughly $25–$35 to get to Surf City.

my highlights! *:･ﾟ✧

surf lessons — I would lie if I said I did much else besides sleep, sunbathe and surf. My excursion to El Salvador was short and sweet, but by god, the surfing was great. Surf City, unsurpirsingly gets its name from the coastline’s incredible and consistent waves, perfect for both beginners and pros. Em and I booked a lesson with Bamboards Surf Academy, whose shop is located a stone’s throw from the beach. We paid $30 for our lesson, which turned out to be only us with two instructors! They were friendly and calm, starting with the basics and improving our form and technique.

@by.beccamaethings to do in el salvador— learn to surf in el tunco! I booked a surf lesson with bamboards which included an 80 minute lesson, rash vests and full use of the surf board for 24hrs. The waves at el tunco are great for beginners and I felt really safe which helped build my confidence in the water. #travel #eltunco #surfing #backpacking

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pupusas — My Latin food experiences have been pretty limited, so I’m excited to eat my way through each country’s unique cuisine. Pupusas are corn-based pancakes stuffed with a variety of fillings, usually a protein like chicken or beef, along with beans or cheese. I couldn’t help but return to.

sunsets on the beach — the best things in life come free to us. Namely, sunsets on the beach. El Tunco is famous for its watercolour displays of orange to pink hues. Grab a chela and fit a spot on the shores to watch surfers catch their golden hour waves backdropped by the setting sun.

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It wasn’t a destination my parents randomly picked out on a map: my aunt and uncle had owned homes there since before I was born. Originally, they had a traditional alpine wooden cottage up the mountain. One of my earliest travel memories was waking up in one of the south-facing bedrooms, swinging open the wooden shutters to flood the room with sunlight and the sound of cowbells clanging in a nearby meadow. Later, they relocated to a home in Doussard, literally a stone’s throw from the water’s edge. We would stay in the nearby campsite, cycling each morning to the local boulangerie for baguettes and croissants before heading over to meet the rest of the family at the house for an alfresco breakfast.

While I truly love being beside the ocean, there is something special about floating belly up in the fresh turquoise waters of a lake fringed by mountains. Plus it is one of the cleanest in the world. I can attest that after a long night of drinking too many glasses of vino, diving headfirst is more revitalising than any cup of café au lait.

Anyway, nostalgia aside, here are my recommendations for the things to do, places to eat, drink and relax in and around the city of Annecy.

key info

• Currency: Euro: £1 = 1.19

• Language: French

• Religion: Mainly Catholicism; however, the country is diverse

• Visas: British passport holders do not need a visa for short stays (up to 90 days in any 180-day period). France is part of the Schengen Area.

• Weather: Based in the Alps, Annecy has lovely warm summers followed by cold and wet winters, often with snow. You can enjoy each season fully here: swimming in the summer and skiing in the winter.

my highlights! *:･ﾟ✧

Over the years, as both a child and adult, I like to think I’ve experienced the best of the best here in Annecy. I indeed think the lake can be best enjoyed through activities: cycling around it, swimming in it, hiking beside it or flying over it.

cycling the lake — One of the most accessible and pleasant ways to spend a day is to cycle along the lake’s periphery. On the occasion we’d drive all the way from South Devon almost to the border of Switzerland, our bikes would come with us. However, as I imagine you wouldn’t do this, there are plenty of rental shops in the city centre. If you are a keen cyclist, then attempt the full 40km loop.

However, if you’re slightly nervous on two wheels, you’ll be pleased to know the majority of the cycle path is totally car-free and flat. However, the route from Annecy city down the west side of the lake to Doussard (18KM) is the one I’ve completed the most. You’ll peddle through cave tunnels, past an old steam train station, grassy ‘beaches’ and even an old castle. Pack a sandwich or stop at a cafe, such as our family favourite, La Petite Fringale.

parapente — On any given pleasant day, look to the skies above the lake, and you’ll see a kaleidoscope of tiny parachutes floating from the mountain peaks. For 90 euros, you can leap too. I flew with Parapente Activ’ Annecy out of Doussard, which included a tandem jump, transport up the mountain and insurance. This is, without a doubt, the best way to see both the lake and the city of Annecy.

hike la Tournette — If, like me, the sound of embarking on a physical challenge on holiday is your cup of tea, then you should consider hiking to the peak of la Tournette. The route we took started at Chalet de l’Aulp, which is convenient because it means you can end your hike with a beer and snacks at the restaurant.

waste a day at the plage — Wherever you find yourself staying, you won’t be far from a idylic swim spot. There are both paid and free plages dotted around Lake Annecy. As children, we often spent the entire day at Plage de Menthon-Saint-Bernard; it has a shallow swimming section with a diving board, a floating pontoon and a toddlers paddling pool. Near my aunt’s home is Plage de Doussard, which is also attached to a few campsites. My personal favourite is the grassy shores beside Château de Duingt, a grand private castle which juts out into the middle of the lake. It’s easily accessible by the cycle path.

explore the old town — In recent years, I’ve seen TikToks popping up on my for you page describing Annecy as France’s own Venice. At the heart of the old town, the Thiou River flows past the iconic old prison building and past waterside cafes, hence the Italian comparisons. A few of my fave spots: Glacier Perrière for pistachio ice cream, Adrenaline Coffee Roasters for a flat white and Café des Arts for an afternoon beverage.

head into the mountains — If you can rent a car or organise transport, it’s well worth heading up into the hills to the town of La Clusaz. I have fond memories of hiking through pinetree lined trails, zooming down the luge de la Clusaz, a metal roller coaster and mountain biking down steep descents.

my google maps

Planning a trip to Laos? Save my Google Maps list here to check out my recommendations for yourself.

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I’ve held it far from my chest for many years. My body was, for all intents and purposes, turned off to any kind of fresh discovery. I didn’t want to be touched by somebody new, to reveal my unsightly thighs open to criticism harsher than my own. Often, my body feels like a deserted battlefield, with lesions, scars and stretch marks from moments survived. My twisted self-perception convinced me it isn’t a form that could attract a fellow twenty-something. In reality, my body is simply the body of any other woman my age. Not wildly bigger or smaller, nor drastically different. Nevertheless, dating left me raw and naked in a way I hadn’t experienced in forever.

The scene is Mexico City. I’m dating to distract myself from the idea of somebody who isn’t interested in me. Now is the time. Meet as many new people as you can. Date women who like matcha and men who want to sip Cubas in cocktail bars. The problem with this is that, as it turns out, I am unable to detach my worth from my physical form.

An equation emerged with each date. Hinge, a few texts followed, usually bouncing shared interests, a low lit bar, a restaurant, sometimes a coffee shop, meaningless chat about our parents, homes, why are you here, careers, TV shows and always music. We’d leave, maybe they would walk me home, looking at me with longing and expectation. Afterwards, the texts would dry up, or they’d disappear from my Instagram following list back into the digital abyss. I’d rarely care, aware they failed to provide the human connection I craved.

Yet with each indifferent date, each empty street corner kiss, I felt the space between myself and my body grow. Much like my teenage years, the body that I hated so much was becoming an object of baseless desire. Something men would pick up, play with and discard with little thought. Dissociating and distracting. Even the ones I liked and felt safe with didn’t want to date me. Enough connection to be friends, to joke at a party and hide in the bathroom, but not enough to take me for dinner.

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By the time I went on a date, if you could call it a date, with somebody I actually liked, I had all but accepted this as my reality for the foreseeable future. He was never going to want more than sex. Films interrupted with flashes of intimacy would suffice, because at least here he was looking at me, or my body, instead of an unanswered text or an Instagram story. Better than being alone in my creepy, cold Airbnb. I tried to get inside his head, but all I could imagine were the words of the past ten dates, where “I’m just not looking for a relationship” translated as I want to sleep with you without the responsibility or ever speaking to you again. Nice on paper, good in theory, but not the girl you want to sip moka pot coffee with in bed.

This could have been unfair. Maybe he didn’t feel like this. But in the club, chain-smoking cigarettes because I didn’t know what to do with my hands, I decided enough was enough. Cut off the supply and reconnect my body with my soul. If he wanted to see me for coffee at 2 pm in the afternoon, or run with me on a Sunday morning, then maybe. But until then, I’d eject myself from the world of first dates, deleting Hinge to protect my maybe too sensitive self from the endless conveyor belt of digital profiles in exchange for connections in the real world.

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Sport is the only thing that has ever regulated me; I can’t dance or sing, have no artistic abilities of note, and little crafting instincts. In the anxious heights of exam season, my head of year told me, mid mental breakdown, that I needed to stop studying myself into sickness and start rowing more.

The symbiotic relationship between exercise and psychological well-being is tricky. For instance, in my youth, my eating disorder forced me to take a break from competitive swimming, a break from which I never returned. However, stepping away from sport entirely led to a classically unhealthy lifestyle of binge drinking, overeating, and smoking from my late teens through to my mid twenties. I need exercise. The shift in my personality is as clear as night and day when my trainers lie stranded and neglected beside my front door.

After only a week or two without running, my walls begin to crumble, and my brain insidiously manipulates me into thinking I’ve gained 100 lbs, my face has morphed into another’s, and I’m the worst person on earth. The body dysmorphia is something I don’t think I’ll ever escape. Maybe if I trained more, locked in and focused on becoming leaner, then I would like myself more. Then again, I would probably fall into the same cycle that has cropped up every three or four years of my life. I would exercise more, restrict more, lose weight, become depressed, and have to reset. Focusing on the sport, the running, the swimming, the races, the goals, is the only way to stop myself from hyperfixating on aesthetics over ability.

Furthermore, movement is my only opportunity to filter thoughts. How do I feel about them? What did that make me feel? What do I want to do with my life?

This year’s running has been peppered with false starts: I got food poisoning, then was sick, fell over on a run, got food poisoning again, and then had period cramps.
Ambition: 100. Mileage: 0.

The frustration bubbled over on my long run last week. A mere five miles in, I felt tears burning and my hands trembling. I was not as fast as I was last month. My legs felt fatigued, and my lungs weaker. The one thing I am supposed to do, the singular skill, the ability to slowly stomp onwards like a stubborn mule, and I couldn’t muster an ounce of respectable stamina. There, in the middle of the busy street, I brought my knees to my chest on a stone bench and cried, watching women and men, much leaner and speedier than I, bolt past with poise and confidence. I found myself paralysed, torn somewhere between wanting to exercise for my sanity and being pulled slowly into the insane depths of toxic comparison.

I try to remind myself that each weekend is an opportunity. Wake up and join the flocks ebbing and flowing to and from Chapultepec, or nestle deeper into my bed, hiding from thoughts and surges of difficult feelings. My insecurities never go away. There will always be friends who run faster and influencers whose curated fits make me feel like the scruffy kid in PE. But without those sacred hours, soundtracked by Latin Mafia, politics podcasts or Barry Can’t Swim, the thoughts don’t soften. They lodge deeper in my chest.

Sometimes running makes me feel strong. Sometimes it makes me feel small, flabby, weak. But I am yet to regret a Sunday plod.

As always, Reforma will open for pedestrians this weekend. The cyclists will click into their pedals. The skaters will weave. The runners will loop up around the zocalo and back down to Polanco, seeking something ephemeral; maybe a PB, a distraction from last night’s bad date, or to catch up with friends in the sunshine. And I’ll probably be there too. Thinking about them, the size of my legs, my dreams and where I’ll go for brunch afterwards.

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I moved out of my rural English hometown to London at 18. Since then, I’ve been managing my own money (somewhat poorly), working full-time, paying rent, covering bills, and shopping and cooking for myself for the best part of a decade. So returning to the family nest was, at first, a shock.

What do you mean you want to eat dinner together at 7 p.m. on the dot every day? What do you mean, I’m hanging up my laundry incorrectly? What do you mean you don’t go out after work, ever, on a weekday?

It was a reverse culture shock.

But it had its perks.

I have ADHD, and one of my biggest struggles is the never-ending churn of life admin. I get it done, but often at the expense of self-care. I’ll remember to pay my rent, but I’ll end up wearing a bikini as underwear because my laundry is still damp in the machine after being washed — and forgotten — three times in a week. Embarrassing, yes. But moving back in with my parents instantly eased that psychological load.

My mum, possibly the most organised woman I’ve ever met, has a system for everything. She does the weekly shop at the same time every week, immediately after her run, bath, and Saturday morning deep clean. She eats the same breakfast every day, optimised for health. She sets alarms for chores and never forgets a birthday card. It’s impressive.

I am the opposite.

Without asking, she began absorbing my domestic labour. She hung out my damp T-shirts when the sun cut through the British grey skies. I was the resident chef, but she made sure the fridge was stocked. She reminded me to open letters from the bank and return my trainers to their rightful place on the shoe shelf. Racked with guilt, I became acutely aware that I was adding to her already full schedule.

Despite this, I still consider myself hyper-independent. At the end of last year, I moved to Mexico alone, knowing nobody, armed with only a backpack and my iPhone. I can navigate a foreign metro, learn an entirely new language, find somewhere to live, a job and make new friends. Totally unphased.

But I can’t feed myself.

It’s my biggest problem — made more ironic by living in a country renowned for its food. I can’t cook my usual staples because the ingredients are either expensive or hard to find (I’m not paying £5 for feta). Food shopping, walking across the neighbourhood and carrying groceries home become overwhelming. I must caveat that despite having a history of disordered eating, I love food. I love cooking, it’s one of my favourite pastimes. However, since arriving in Mexico, the various steps that require me to have a normal cooking routine feel monumentally difficult. So I don’t do it. I have no food in the flat. I forget to eat.

I find myself on the verge of passing out at 3 pm, having neither drunk water nor taken a bite all day. I didn’t realise how much shame I carried around this until a friend pointed it out.

@by.beccamaepan haul!!! I nipped to the local panadería for some sweet treats ahead of christmas tomorrow — and also picked up some freshly baked bread while I was at it proving a point (ahem, Richard hart) that mexico has delicious baked goods. #panaderia #food #mexicobread #travel

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For context, the first time I met him, I fainted in the middle of a trendy club in Roma. Naturally, the only thing I’d eaten all day was a single stale tortilla from the back of my fridge. As I groggily came round, humiliated and confused, I realised I’d been laid out on a bench by the bouncers, who were now firing questions at me in rapid Spanish. The guy I’d just met stood over me, worry etched across his face, all the more mortifying because I thought he was incredibly handsome and had been flirtatiously trying to make a good first impression.

Recently, after hugging me, he asked why I was always shaking (and why I’d passed out, stone-cold sober, in a packed club). I confessed my ADHD shame: my inability to do laundry, eat on a normal schedule, or keep my living spaces clean.

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. Tell your mum. I do it all the time.”

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my most recent youtube video…

From the outset, I secretly hoped that CDMX would be the place for me. A brief three-day stint in January had already whetted my appetite for the city - but I knew I needed more.

It’s been a wild three months. I’ve made more friends than I have in years. Fascinating people, ranging from students and teachers to musicians and finance bros. I’ve danced in pulquerias, run a half-marathon, got two new tattoos, and eaten hundreds of tacos. My other primary focus, to build my portfolio of travel writing, has been less successful. Pitching before Christmas was tough, with little to no interest in stories. Regardless, I decided pretty quickly that I wanted to nurture the roots I’d laid down here in Ciudad de Mexico. The idea of packing up my bag and heading south to explore Central America, while exciting, left me with an ache in my heart. If I left now, I would likely not be able to make Mexico my home, accepting my inevitable fate of becoming yet another Brit who immigrated to the safe shores of Australia or New Zealand.

So I stayed. And it feels like things are about to fall into place.

@by.beccamaesave this is you’re planning a trip and are looking for things to do in Mexico City!! • Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo — the home and art studio of the famous art couple, entry is only 45MXN and it’s located in the pretty San Ángel neighbourhood • discourse language exchange at departamento in Roma — a club night specifically designed to practice language and meet new people — every Tuesday • El Pescadito — for amazing fish tacos • lucha libre at arena México — one of the most fun experiences I’ve had in cdmx!! • Xochimilco— spend the day partying on the canals and watch the sun set #cdmx #mexico #travel #mexicotravel #coffee

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astrocartography

While I’m not religious, I like to find comfort in the concept that the universe holds some deep meaning that we’re not privy to. For fun, I’ll happily engage in a Tarot card session in the hopes that an unseen power will allow me a glimpse of my fate. All this to say, my travel-obsessed brain is fascinated in astrocartogrophy: using your birth chart to find out where in the world you can tap into the best elements of your life, whether that be relationships, money, career or happiness. For me, my DC line runs straight through the heart of CDMX.

Astrocartography.com tells me that:

There is hardly a better place than the Jupiter/DS line for dealing with all people. Tolerance, generosity and freedom are the hallmarks for all private and business transactions. You will meet cultivated and intelligent people with a sense of humour, whose broad-minded and liberal views deeply influence yours.

It is far from rare that such encounters make a deep impression on your life. You are quite frank and open about putting the considerable experiences of such people to good use, and are happy to receive helpful tips and make mutually beneficial plans. Mutually agreed arrangements relating to contracts or legal actions are positively affected along this axis.

Times are happy and relaxed with your life partner. You reach a new understanding, respect each other’s interests and give each other space to individually unfold. Imbued by empathy and trust, your partnership becomes a growing source of constant inspiration.

Now I don’t claim to wholly believe this stuff, but I will say that my relationships have been key to all of the successes I’ve experienced here so far.

• Moving into my first Airbnb house-share, I met a group of amazing people — they showed me the city on a deeper level, exploring La Laguilla markets, parques and luca libre

• Another friend introduced said his company, which is building a new team here in Mexico — while not in my industry, I have been offered a full-time job in finance (AHHH, WTF) without so much of an interview

• Another mutual friend invited me along to a club night, where I met an entirely new group of people my own age who instantly welcomed me into social events, including a trip to Xochimilco, a New Year's Eve party and Rosca de Reyes celebrations

• As of this week, I’ve been in conversation with two separate people about potential flatshares, both of which came from mutual friends

All this to say, I feel like I’m standing on a cliff’s edge, about to plunge headfirst into a new life. I’ve had a few recruiters reach out this week about potential marketing jobs, both in the travel industry, which, if you don’t know already, is my wheelhouse.

I’m crossing my fingers and toes that somehow, things will fall into place. Or maybe I’ve just totally jinxed it by speaking about it here. Either way, we’ll find out soon.

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Previously, I’d completed my Open Water qualification in Thailand, and subsequently, my Advanced Open Water in Mexico. Meaning, I’d been spoiled with crystal blue waters and balmy temperatures. While I knew I wouldn’t be spotting clown fish and other tropical marine delights anywhere here in Europe, a country with sunnier climes sounded much more appealing than the chilly waters off the coast of my home in South West England.

The popular spots, such as the Canary Islands of Spain, Greece, and the Azores in Portugal, were all countries I’d already visited. As a keen traveller, I knew I wanted to combine the trip with an exploration of a new place. Enter: Malta.

Malta’s popularity with Brits has skyrocketed in recent years. According to Travel Weekly, it has seen over 30% growth in 2024 and experienced strong year-on-year rises in early 2025. Plus, my TikTok feed had been slowly feeding me a stream of videos showcasing it’s sunkissed yellow buildings, clear blue waters and the bustling streets of its tiny capital city.

key info

• Currency: Euro: £1 = 1.19

• Language: Maltese & English

• Religion: Predominantly Roman Catholic

• Visas: British citizens don't need a visa for short visits to Malta, allowing stays of up to 90 days within any 180-day period

• Weather: Malta has a hot, dry Mediterranean climate with long, sunny summers (June-Sept, 25-35°C) and mild, wet winters (Dec-Feb, 10-17°C), with little rain in summer but significant rainfall November-January. I visited in May and caught a lovely tan.

• Airport: Malta International Airport is the country’s only airport. We flew from Stansted, London, with Ryanair for only £60. The best way to reach the airport is via Uber, it cost us only £15 to get to our hotel near Valleta.

my highlights! *:･ﾟ✧

Scuba diving - The primary reason for my trip to Malta? Scuba diving. It’s one of the top destinations in the Mediterranean for diving thanks to its warm weather, clear visibility and marine life. I booked two fun dives with OK Malta, and my mum tried her hand with a tester session in their big outdoor swimming pool. Spoiler alert: she hated it. I, on the other hand, had a great time. I can’t say I saw many interesting creatures on my dive, but we did head into an awesome underwater cave.

Step back in time in the silent city - The old capital of Malta is a sun-kissed, ancient fortress. Located in the West of the country, the fortress city feels like stepping back in time, with its looming walls and views across the countryside. Spend an afternoon wandering around the maze of the ‘Silent City’ or hop onto one of the horse-drawn carriages which line up outside the grand 18th century gate. If, like me, you’re a Game of Thrones fan, then you’ll instantly recognise the location as King’s Landing. We enjoyed lunch at Fontanella Tea Garden, soaking up the pleasant weather on their suntrap terrace before mooching across the neighbouring town of Rabat to explore St Paul’s Catacombs.

Head underground to explore the dark passageways of the archaeological site. Dating back to at least the 3rd or 4th BC, the interconnected tunnels cover over 2000 m².and are the earliest evidence of Christianity in Malta. Warning, this isn’t an activity for the claustrophobic!

Tours of the tiny capital - Most people visiting Malta gravitate towards the capital city of Valetta, and for good reason. As one of the smallest capital cities in Europe, it’s extremely walkable, packed with restaurants, bars and cafes dotted on its grand staircased streets. Its geography juts out into the bay, offering incredible views of the surrounding ports. We started our trip with a guided walking tour offered by BenGoodTour, a Maltese local and expert on all things history and culture. I’d also recommend checking out St. John’s Co-Cathedral, a glittering site full of European artwork.

Boat rides to the 3 cities - TikTok tried to tell me that I should spend my third and final day in the fishing town of Marsaxlokk. And while I was happy to wander and eat seafood, Ben from our tour insisted that our time would be better spent exploring the three cities. It turns out that getting there is half the fun; The best way to reach the towns is via a traditional Maltese dgħajsa. These wooden catamaran boats can be spotted flittering back and forth across the Grand Harbour, dwarfed by the shadows of neighbouring cruise ships.

Bring cash! Crossings from Valletta (the dock is located here) to Birgu start from only a few euros, whereas longer tours start at around €15 per person.

Once in the 3 cities, I’d recommend wandering around the pretty streets that are considerably quieter than the capital. There are waterside restaurants to tuck into fresh seafood and a few museums to explore, including the Inquisitor's Palace and the Malta Maritime Museum. There is also Birgu Flea Market for browsing vintage knick-knacks on a Sunday. We grabbed lunch at Café Riche and soaked up the pleasant spring weather in their suntrap courtyard.

@by.beccamaetaking a €3 dgħajsa taxi boat ride to the 3 cities in Malta ⚓️ this is one of the coolest ways to see some of the other areas of malta especially as they are accessible from valetta — the port is on the south side of the city and make sure you bring cash! #travel #maltathingstodo #eurosummer #traveltips #maltatravel #citybreak #budgettravel #travelvlog

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Where we stayed - We based ourselves out of Chapter5 Boutique Hotel. It’s located in Ta’ Xbiex, a neighbourhood slightly north of Valetta and only a short bus ride away. It was more affordable than staying in the capital, and I loved the clean rooms and rooftop hot tub.

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Before this, the only real decision I’d made was to move to London at 18. After which, I found the first semi-relevant creative media job I was offered, lived in the same area as my friends, went to the pub, went on runs and generally floated through the first few years of adult life.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with this. I was surrounded by great people and generally had a pretty good time. However, I had a nasty habit of moaning everyone’s ears off.

I’d endlessly rant to my ex-girlfriend about life…

• That I felt like I didn’t have a queer community

• That I wasn’t as fit as I wanted to be

• That I’d never earned as much money as my peers

• That I couldn’t afford the life I wanted in London

• That I was depressed by the English winters

• My anxiety spiralled every week after a night at the pub

After my depressive episode in 2024, I made a promise to myself: If I’m going to live, I’m going to make it great. No more moaning. No more passivity. I was going to set goals and make them happen.

how i manifested (set my goals)

On a whim, this year I decided that instead of having a few massive New Year’s resolutions, such as learning to drive or getting fit (whatever that means), I’d break down each month into micro-goals.

They could be anything. Big life events, such as submitting my master’s dissertation and turning 27, but also smaller whimsical goals like ‘Go to the sauna’ or ‘Visit family in Kent’. They were simply formatted on a Notion page as below;

January 🇲🇽

Visit Mexico

Submit all assignments for semester one uni

Get advanced open water scuba

Save £1K

Each time I’d achieve one of the goals, I’d strike through it. Simple. Effective. As a person with ADHD, I’m constantly seeking bursts of dopamine to keep me engaged with work. I was slightly overwhelmed that I still had another 10 months of work and life to live in order to save enough to move abroad. Now it’s December, and I can confidently say that mapping out and visualising my year this way, alongside mood boards, helped me achieve almost everything I wanted back in January.

reviewing the wins

So here’s what I achieved this year, through a bit of luck, alot of hard work and maybe a splash of magic…

• Visit Mexico (sparked an unplanned chain of events)

• Submit all assignments for semester one uni (chipping away at this MA)

• Get advanced open water scuba (The dream!)

• Get mermaid tattoo (Now I’m a proper adult, I think it’s fair game to actually customise my avatar the way I’ve always wanted)

• Run Winter 10K (PB with my mum running around the streets of the City of London)

• Book Lisbon (No messing around, for my ADHD brain, plans have to be made otherwise it rarely leaves the group chat)

• Visit Lisbon (A brief escape from the UK’s gloomy spring with my sister, a much-needed dose of sun and pastel de natas)

• Media event (Helped run a big media event for work!)

• Go to the sauna (Beating the seasonal depression one sauna session at a time)

• Turn 27! (Pretty easy to do, enjoyed a few days in Bristol with my friends)

• Book malta (holiday number 3!!)

• Visit Snowdonia (I got invited to this the week prior to the trip as a friend dropped out, I was hesitant, worrying about money and time off work. But I’m so SO glad I decided to go — look at those mountains!)

• Holiday to Malta (Another country!)

• Scuba diving! (My first time in Europe, a little chillier than Mexico and Thailand)

• Get a contract extension at work (Sometimes you have to cross your fingers, work hard and hope for the best)

• Visit family (I really wanted to swim in the sea in Folkestone, making the most of the British weather)

• Two years sober!

• Buy YouSwim Bikini

• Get a journo mentor (Asking for help is scary)

• Fly to mexico (No biggy, one way flight)

• Make my first travel vlog on Youtube

Naturally, many of them didn’t take my sobriety proclamation that seriously. My aunt would still offer me a glass of wine at family gatherings, which I politely declined, despite the bubbling frustration building in my chest. Sobriety wasn’t an easy journey for me. It was bitty. My first stint lasted six months before being derailed by cheap Laotian beer and beach parties in South East Asia. That brief intermission came to a humbling close after I threw up a bottle of red wine mixed with too much amaretto following the death of my uncle. Being scolded and sent to bed by my father at the age of 25 was the dressing-down that made me realise: I cannot drink normally.

Since then, I haven’t been drunk in over two and a half years. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times when my willpower has been tested. Birthday parties where all of my friends are cheering over pints in pub gardens; late nights in Mexico City where a few mezcals would have lubricated socialising. But on the whole, I’m deep enough into my sobriety journey to know I’m better off without it.

I never grappled with the label of addict. I brushed it off and happily separated myself from those feverishly destructive drinkers. The diagnosis felt too extreme, too heavy.

But since arriving in Mexico, a different vice has re-entered my life. Cigarettes.

I quit smoking around the same time I first quit drinking - pretty much three years ago. Smoking contradicts my entire personality. I’ve always eaten healthily. While I love a sweet treat, being vegetarian for the best part of my twenties made me an avid cook, loving any dish centred around vegetables and legumes. I’m a runner - not a fast one, but a passionate one. I’d go as far as to say it’s the biggest love of my life (besides travel and my cat, Socks). But after one date went wrong on day one after landing in the country, my initial reaction to easing minor heartbreak was to seek dopamine.

There was no way I was reaching for the bottle. I knew well enough by now that it wasn’t the answer. I’ve never been a weed smoker, and I wasn’t going in search of Class A substances in Mexico. The quickest fix? Grabbing a pack of Marlboro Gold from the nearest 7-Eleven.

I’m not proud of it. In fact, I’m incredibly ashamed. I specifically remember saying to my mum that I’d never, ever smoke another cigarette again. But here I was, shakily chain-smoking outside my hostel in El Centro, battling jet lag and a wounded ego.

After three days and a wheezing cough, I decided enough was enough. I binned the remains of the pack and returned to my regular runs. Simple, right? As it turns out, no.

Each time I’ve been faced with stress since arriving, I haven’t been able to stop myself from buying more cigarettes. Vapes aren’t widely sold here either, so my default is going straight back to good old tobacco. Failed article pitch? Cig. Bad date? Cig. Worried about money? Cig.

The cycle of an addict: knowing something is bad for you and being totally unable to stop, regardless.

More concerningly, the smoking has made me reflect on a larger question. Am I an addict? I know I tend to extremes. My ADHD lends itself to all-or-nothing living. I’ve been known to clock up 50 km in one week when I'm deeply passionate about running, but I’ve also been through periods where I haven’t laced up my trainers for months. It’s like my brain is unable to distinguish between good and bad. It craves dopamine in whatever form is most readily available.

Sitting on the kerb at 10 pm, puffing on yet another smoke, all the while knowing I should be protecting my lungs in preparation for my upcoming half-marathon race, I finally accepted that I think I’m an addict.

An addict isn’t only the lost soul who’s searching the streets for their next score. An addict could be an almost well-adjusted twenty-something. The Cambridge English Dictionary defines it as the following: a person who cannot stop doing or using something, especially something harmful.

And on reflection, that’s always been me. I’ve been addicted to people, fixating on the person I like in a haze of limerence, praying to the stars that this love interest, usually somebody who isn’t particularly interested in me, will magically decide that I’m the person they want to spend their days with. As aforementioned, booze: drinking away any bad feelings I’m grappling to unearth, a false alter ego of confidence. Self-harm, to numb those same feelings. I’ve eaten too much food and also not enough, obsessing over calories and exercise to reach a dissociative state of bliss. Addicted to the feeling of feeling something other than normal.

As a teenager, I recall telling a psychiatrist that I feel like I play whack-a-mole with psychological problems. For a year, I’d present as bulimic, only to overnight switch it up because my bad feelings were being freshly managed with a new vice - say, secretly drinking gin from a plastic water bottle at 11 am in the sixth-form common room. It’s only now, as an adult, that I can reflect on my younger years with clarity. Yes, I was grappling with undiagnosed ADHD, but I think my addictive personality was shining as clear as day.

So the next time somebody asks why I’m not drinking, or offers me a cheeky cigarette that “doesn’t count” because it’s after 1 am, I’ll feel emboldened to say the words: No thanks, I can’t have that - I’m an addict.

Looking after Milo isn’t only a delight, but also a dream, as someone with a limited budget and big travel goals. If you’re new here,

Hi! I’m Becca, and this Autumn I quit my very nice marketing job at a national tourism board to slow-travel Latin America, focus on becoming a full-time writer and content creator and fulfil a lifetime dream of moving abroad.

Thankfully, I have a fair amount of cash saved up, but my biggest fear is running out before I establish an income or secure a job somewhere outside the UK. Enter: Trusted Housesitters.

Trusted Housesitters is an application which connects pet sitters with pet owners, meaning beloved pets are looked after by experienced animal-lovers while their owners are away. I started using the service while working a primarily remote job in the UK. It meant I could come and stay in London for a week or two, work from the central office and see my colleagues and friends without dropping a few hundred quid on hotels. I also used it to slow travel to other destinations, such as Brighton, notoriously one of England’s most expensive cities.

the pros —

• Pet sitters get free accommodation: Yes, exactly, arguably the highest cost to travel, plus it means you don’t have to rely on Airbnb for your own apartment.

• Pets get to stay in their own home: They can keep their routine and stay in their happy place, which isn’t being sent to a kennel.

• Pet owners get peace of mind: Somebody is looking after both their pet and their home, somebody that they can communicate with directly.

• Pet sitters get to live like a local: You’re staying in and looking after somebody’s home, therefore you will likely be in a residential neighbourhood away from the hustle and bustle of the tourist hotspots.

how to get started —

Like many things in life, the first (booking) is the hardest. It takes time and positive reviews to build up your pet-sitting portfolio, and consequently, getting those first few sits can be hard.

1. Bring your profile to life: Show your personality on your profile! Nobody would trust a black webpage with their much-loved pets, so make sure you add a bio - who you are, where you are from, what you do for work, your own pets and experiences caring for pets, and photos of you (ideally with animals!)

2. Get reviews: If you have looked after a friend’s pet before, get them to add a review to your profile! It really helps build trust before you try and secure a booking.

3. Start local: I knew that I wanted to increase my probability of booking international sits, so to build up my good reviews, I accepted a few local ones. My first was looking after two lurchers in my hometown. Which, yes, as ridiculous as it seems, I packed my bags and moved 10 minutes down the road for a week.

4. Friendly intro: The introduction message is key. You want to display your competency as soon as possible. I’ve included a template below, but the long and short of it intro who you are, why you want to look after the pet, your experience and contact details.

5. Collect reviews: Focus on building up domestic reviews first. As mentioned, I did at least 4 or 5 domestic sits in the UK before applying to one here in Mexico.

intro message template —

Hi [pet owner name]…

My name is [your name], and I’d love to be considered to look after [pet name]. A little bit about me [insert information about you, where you are from, what you do for work, and why you will be visiting the area]. I have experience looking after [animal type], including [mention if you have administered medication or any other niche skills which the sit may require].

If you would like to chat in person, I’m available for a phone or video call - you can reach me at [add contact info]

All the best,

Becca

@by.beccamaemy number one budget travel hack — look after pets in exchange for accommodation! this week the opportunity arose to look after milo the cat for two and a half months in exchange for a studio apartment here in mexico. I love this option because not only am I saving money, but I also get to live more of a normal life than if I was staying in hostels 24/7 I’m hoping the money I save on accommodation will allow me to travel for a bit longer and give me time to plan my next steps 🧳 @TrustedHousesitters #backpacking #travel #budgettraveltips international budget travel / travel tip

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Embarrassed and disappointed by my own lack of journalistic integrity, I swore I wouldn’t write another ‘guide’ until I’d spent a decent chunk of time here. As I write this, I’ve just hit the one-month mark in CDMX.

I don’t say this lightly - especially as someone who has held the identity of a ‘Londoner’ close to my heart for all my adult life, but…

creo que ciudad de méxico es la mejor ciudad del mundo

(If you didn’t get that, I think Mexico City is the best city in the world)

Let me explain why…

key info

• Currency: Mexican Peso (MXN, $) £1 = $22.50 MXN

• Language: Spanish

• Religion: Predominantly Catholic, though Mexico is home to a diverse mix of beliefs, and many people identify as non-practising.

• Visas: British citizens do not need a visa for short tourist visits (up to 180 days). You’ll simply need to complete a tourist card (FMM) on arrival or online before travelling. Always check the latest entry requirements before you go.

• Weather: Mexico City enjoys a mild, spring-like climate year-round due to its high altitude (over 2,200 m above sea level). The dry season runs from November to April, bringing sunny days and cool evenings, while the rainy season lasts from May to October, with brief afternoon showers.

my highlights! *:･ﾟ✧

la comida — Look, if you thought I was going to begin this guide waffling on about anything other than food, then you clearly don’t know me. Truly, nothing has made me fall in love with this city more than the ladies and gentlemen who whip up quesadillas and sell café con leche and conchas from food trolleys beneath pink umbrellas, just a stone’s throw from my front door. I can roll out of bed, grab a torta or sweet treat, maybe a freshly pressed juice from the neighbouring stall, and trudge back home having spent less than 50 pesos.

It’s dangerous for my waistline, but I love practising my Spanish at 3am on a Friday at the taquería in Centro, ordering crispy tripa tacos with a goblet-sized horchata while my friends bicker about the best football team in the city (I’m told it isn’t América).

Month one has been a bit of a tick-box exercise. Each day, I’ve made a concerted effort to work my way through the CDMX staples: crispy flautas, pozole (specifically from Casa Toño, with the company of my housemates), pan de muerto from Pastelería Ideal for Día de Muertos, and chilaquiles con huevos from the nearby mercado. Also, I’ve decided I’m a salsa verde girl.

But beyond traditional Mexican fare, CDMX overflows with international influences as any great metropolis does. Only yesterday, I read an interesting article by Lydia Carey (mexicocityeats) responding to the recent article in The New York Times titled “What Happened to Mexico City’s Food Scene: Americans. Her piece highlights the oversimplification that is happening here by conflating the growth of a buzzing international culinary scene with ‘Americanisation’. Carey counteracts this saying…

‘But in the same way that New York and London are famous for their world cuisine, Mexico City is becoming known for having a little bit of everything. What some of us would say is the glorious result of a world where people can move from country to country and bring their cooking with them.’

I haven’t eaten much non-Mexican food, in all honesty. I went on a date to Pizza Felix, which I loved, much like the sourdough slices I’d usually order in London. I’m itching to visit LadyBoy อีสาน, a Thai street food stall in Roma and Alfil Restaurante, a Middle Eastern spot I kept jogging past, eyeing up the dishes of curry, soft pitta and hummus that patrons were digging into. I might start restaurant reviews here on Substack, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please leave a comment!

If you’re visiting, then I’d highly recommend booking onto a food tour. I joined Treep Tour’s Centro Tour, where I spent a few hours snacking on crickets in the mercado, learning about the area’s history, sampling street food and tucking into tacos. Another option is Eat Like a Local, which is high on my ‘want to do’ list.

@by.beccamaesave this food tour for your trip to Mexico City! 🌮❤️ The best way to learn about a city’s culture and history is through eating, which is why @treeptours 🪩✨🌮 centro food tour is the ideal way to start your trip — the we got to try oaxacan chocolate, queso, crickets seasoned with chilli and fresh tortillas from the mercado #travel #food #mexicocity

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museo hopping — Another major selling point of CDMX is its vast array of museums and art galleries. I don’t think you could ever get sick of them. My personal favourite is still the Museo Nacional de Antropología, and I haven’t even revisited it since returning to the city!

It’s a massive, architecturally dramatic concrete building tucked away in leafy Chapultepec, with a towering water feature at its centre. Inside, you’ll find relics from ancient Mayan and Mexican civilisations, from grand stone carvings to skeletons preserved from human sacrifice. I’m obsessed with it.1

Other museum shout-outs. Firstly, Chapultepec Castle - mainly for its sweeping views down Reforma. Also in the park are two excellent art galleries: the Museo de Arte Moderno and the Museo Tamayo Arte Contemporáneo. This week I visited Guillermo Tovar de Teresa Museum in Roma Norte, a grand home which is filled with paintings, literature, and rare and antique books.

There are still a few key tourist experiences I’m yet to tick off, namely, the Frida Kahlo House, Xochimilco, Lucha Libre and the pyramids at the Zona Arqueológica de Teotihuacán.

running and parques — While I’ve tried fitting this section into ‘green spaces and leisure’, I think the real appeal of Mexico City’s central barrios is just how walkable and green they are. Obviously, this isn’t the case throughout the entire city, especially in the poorer regions, which are often incredibly densely populated and can’t really be compared to affluent spots like Condesa or Polanco. If you’re visiting as a tourist, you’ll likely be staying somewhere central, meaning it’ll be no more than a 30-minute walk to one of the city’s great parques. The biggest? Bosque de Chapultepec - it’s twice the size of NYC’s Central Park, for context. In Centro, head to Alameda Central for sonidero and cumbia dancing, or delicious street food during the day. España and Mexico are side by side in trendy Condesea. Loop around Amsterdam, a green circle that circumnavigates Parque Mexico and stop off in one of the cool coffee shops which line it, my personal favourite is Cafe Nin (Iced Americano & Almond Croissoint). In the south of the city, you’ll find the network of canals that forms Parque Ecológico de Xochimilco.2

As a runner, I’ve spent most of this month exploring the city on foot. I’m a very visual thinker; while I can’t tell the time and am famously clumsy, my one skill that seems to dominate is my internal compass. Plodding the streets, memorising street names and figuring out how they all connect has felt like slowly completing a jigsaw puzzle - all while increasing my VO₂ max score, because DANG, this city’s elevation is crazy. I could hardly breathe on my first jet-lagged 5K. My weekly highlight has been Reforma on a Sunday morning: the city’s central road is closed to cars, allowing runners, cyclists, and families to exercise with some of the city’s best views.

bouji bars - Ironically, as a sober person, I’ve spent a lot of time in bars. Naturally, this is because I’ve made friends with people who drink, and honestly, I miss going to cool boozers - I’ve been living in the countryside with my parents for the best part of two years, and haven’t really had the chance to go to trendy, lowlit vinyl bars like the ones I see my friends going to in London. Here in CDMX, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the alcohol free options available. At Bussifame, I sipped on alcohol free Corona while listening to a DJ mix of Tyler the Creator. Similarly, I enjoyed ESPANTOSO and their 0% margs.

movies set in mexico city

• Los olvidados (The Young and the Damned), 1950, dir Luis Buñuel

• Amores Perros, 2000, dir Alejandro González Iñárritu

• Roma, 2018, dir Alfonso Cuarón

• Museo, 2018, dir Alonso Ruizpalacios

my google maps

Planning a trip to Mexico City? Save my Google Maps list here to check out my recommendations for yourself. I haven’t visited all of these places; some are recommendations from other people, so pick at your discretion!

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‘If I were to ask you to describe yourself, but you couldn’t use your nationality, career, or your qualifications, successes, your hobbies, appearance or your friends and family. How would you describe yourself?’

This stumped me. Usually, like most people, I’d revert to the obvious definitions of self.

the external self —

I’m 27, I’m a woman, I’m from Totnes, in South West England - but I lived in London for the majority of my adult life. I have worked in travel, tourism and hospitality PR and marketing since graduating from Queen Mary University of London back in 2019, but I have always wanted to be a creative. I applied for post-grad schemes to break into journalism, but found little success. After a big fat break-up and life change at the start of 2024, I decided to apply for an MA in journalism and follow my dreams. In my spare time I love running, scuba diving, photography and videography. I’m single, and most of my friends live in Bristol or London. My parents are still in Devon.

Okay, so that was the superficial stuff, but who am I without those things?

the internal self —

Blue. I feel that my soul is the azul. Not a zingy electric blue, but shades of the twinkling sea on a calm day. I love sea creatures big and small, but orcas fascinate me the most. I’m loud but also quiet. A relentless chatterbox around people I love, but also often anxiously reserved, thanks to always feeling like I’m ‘too much’. I feel most calm either underwater or when I move my body, regardless of the sport or context. Throw me on a surfboard, plunge me under the waves or balance me on a rowing boat: then you’ll see me clearly.

People often identify themselves as city or countryside people, which I reject. I am neither because I am both. I’d be equally excited to wade through the thick jungles of Uganda as I would to spend a weekend trotting around Rome. Curiosity and the endless variety of the planet are what inspire me, not possessions or status (although I hold a soft spot for my book collection, which is currently collecting dust a million miles away in England). I think that’s why I’ve wanted to pursue many jobs, live everywhere, travel the world and document everything.

I’ll eat almost anything once, but my favourite foods are still those of a seven-year-old: pizza and ice cream.

So what does this have to do with productivity, you might ask? Everything.

value beyond productivity —

I recently hit the two-month mark of being in Mexico, and all I’ve felt is guilt. Guilt that, despite sending pitches to editors, I haven’t secured a commission. Guilt that I haven’t done all the top tourist experiences here or made nearly enough TikToks about the city. Guilt that I’ve spent too much money and made none.

I’ve been measuring my worth against arbitrary metrics of success, money, career milestones, and LinkedIn post-worthy achievements. I haven’t been celebrating the other parts of life: the fact that I’ve made new friends; that I’ve memorised the streets of a new city on the other side of the world; that I’ve been on good and bad dates; that I’ve taken a much-needed break from constant productivity to, well, live.

While my speaking is still crap, my Spanish comprehension has improved significantly. I even shocked myself by confidently greeting, ordering coffee, and chatting with the barista on a date last week. He, an American digital nomad CEO type, turned to me and said:

“Wow, you speak Spanish, that’s so cool!”

I burst out laughing.

“I don’t speak Spanish at all. I just know how to order food and drink because I’ve had to do it every day for the past two months.”

He looked confused.

“Well, so have I, but I don’t know Spanish. I just point at what I want, and it usually works.”

I don’t say this to brag, because truly, there is little to brag about. Only to highlight that listening, especially to people who have different languages, cultures and life experiences to you, holds value. Plus, I’m counting learning Mexican slang as a win.

Dating, while not exactly ‘successful’ has taught me a few things, mainly how to say no. Out of all the dates I’ve been on, I only truly connected with one guy, who’s pretty busy with work and probably not looking for anything serious. A younger me would have panicked, tying my self-worth to my desirability. But as a woman nearing 30, I’ve found confidence in defining what I want, no, need, and detaching from anyone who doesn’t respect those boundaries.

I’m starting December with a fresh mindset. These last two months haven’t been wasted; they’ve been lived. Tapping into my inner self isn’t worthless. Productivity is coming back, slowly and surely. I’ll continue to write, pitch and create. Money will come, eventually. For now, I’m taking a moment to appreciate the smaller wins.

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For only £60, I booked flights from Bristol to Madrid, found a hostel in the city centre and roped my parents in to join me for the trip.

key info

• Currency: Euro: £1 = 1.19

• Language: Spanish

• Religion: Predominantly Roman Catholic, although many Spaniards today are non-practising.

• Visas: British citizens do not need a visa for short visits (up to 90 days within a 180-day period), as Spain is part of the Schengen Area.

• Weather: Madrid has a warm climate with hot, dry summers and cool, crisp winters. It’s one of the sunniest capitals in Europe! Summers often exceed 30 °C, while winters can drop to around 4–6 °C at night but remain mostly dry. Spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November) are ideal times to visit, with mild temperatures ranging between 15–25 °C.

my highlights! *:･ﾟ✧

Walking tour - I’m a walking tour fanatic - I think they are arguably the best way to start any city break. So I booked myself and my parents onto a ‘free’ walking tour via Guru Walk to kickstart our break. The weather was glorious, mid-20’s meaning we were catching a tan while winding through the streets of Madrid in October. We learnt about the city’s history, spotted different architectural eras, learnt where to find the best tapas, and learnt why madrileños are called “gatos” (cats).

Tapas tasting - You know you can’t visit the capital of España without indulging in the local cuisine. While I wouldn’t rank Spanish food highly in my personal culinary rankings, I certainly enjoyed indulging in whisper-thin slices of Jamón ibérico, gooey croquettes and chargrilled Padron peppers sprinkled with snowflakes of salt crystals. Our tour guide told us that the La Latina barrio has the best tapas, so we stopped into two restaurants at random and heavily enjoyed the bites.

Meander el retiro parque - Ironically, because they go on at least two a year, my parents aren’t really city break people. By which I mean, they aren’t interested in museums or art galleries - getting them to book into any activity is like getting blood from a stone; however, they are more than happy to spend an entire day walking aimlessly through pretty streets, exploring parks and stopping for leisurely afternoon beers. Making El Retiro the highlight of their trip. If you are the activity-loving kind, you can rent a boat and bob around the central lake.

Top tip: If you’re a runner, it’s worth heading to El Retiro early in the morning; the circular route is ideal for a 5K. You’ll find plenty of other keen joggers pounding the pavement before work, and before the hot midday temperatures rise.

Churro pitstop - You can’t come to Madrid and not try one of their most famous dishes, churros con chocolate. Chocolatería San Ginés has been pumping out the deep-fried treats since 1984, and you can tell by how streamlined the operation is. I’d recommend requesting/waiting to be seated outside or in the main bar area, as we were shunted off into an ‘overfill’ windowless room which damped the atmosphere considerably.

Museo hopping - Like most great capital cities, Madrid is home to a bunch of brilliant museums and art galleries. Prado Museum is home to many of the great classical Spaish artworks, Reina Sofía Museum houses iconic modern works such as Picasso’s Gurnica and Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum is loved for its Renaissance paintings.

where to stay

budget — I stayed at Elíseo: livingCoworking hostel, which is a stone’s throw from the central Gran Vía. The price was ideal for its location, and my room was super clean and comfortable. The negatives: The bunkbeds didn’t have curtains, and the speakers played rain sounds and spa music at an incredibly loud volume for the entirety of my first night. I managed to clamber onto the top of the wardrobe and physically pull out the speaker from the plug on the second night after slowly losing my sanity from sleep deprivation — a silly issue that could have been resolved if there had been an employee present on site.

mid tier — Offering hostel and private rooms, Generator has been flagged on Conde nast’s best hotels in Madrid list for multiple years. Honestly, it’s the colourful rooftop bar and massive lounge areas that are selling it for me.

boujii — If I could splash the cash, or had a rich partner that wanted to fly me across Europe in fancy hotels (Look, a woman can dream) then I’d book into somewhere chic like Totem Madrid.

Follow me over on TikTok ↓

@by.beccamaejust a few personal faves from mexico city 🌆 🇲🇽 • food tour — I ate my way around centro with Treep Tours, but I’ve also heard good things about Eat Like a Local (both women / Mexican owned) • Reforma on Sunday — plus all of Mexico City has a cool run culture, so if you’re into that pack your trainers • Museums here are incredible, don’t miss the anthropology museum, the art galleries and Frida’s house #travel #backpacking #mexicocitytravel

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To visit this archipelagic country is to understand just how beautiful a beach can be. Only a few weeks prior, I thought I’d visited the best one in the world, a cove tucked between the limestone cliffs of Cat Ba in Vietnam; how wrong I was.

It took almost 24 hours of travel to reach our first destination, hopping from Saigon to Cebu, hanging around in an airport sipping neon purple teeth-achingly sweet taro teas, then eventually white knuckling a flight in a tincan propeller plane, before landing on the island of Palawan.

Each hour was worth it when we rocked up to the bustling beach town of El Nido. The accommodation, a very simple Wendy-house-esque hut, offered free instant coffee, a resident family of ants and the best beach view in the world.

While day-to-day living isn’t costly for the average Western traveller, flights, ferries and accommodation to popular destinations rack up the overall costs, don’t let this put you off, though.

Over my month-long backpacking trip around a few of the islands, I managed to swim with wild turtles, each fire-roasted fish on a remote tropical beach and zipline over deep jungle canyons, all while sticking to a tight budget.

key info

• Currency: Philippine peso £1 = 77.97 PHP

• Language: Standardised Tagalog and English are the two official languages; however, the country is believed to have over 150 languages spoken.

• Religion: Majority Catholic Christian

• Visas: British citizens can travel to the Philippines without a visa, and will be granted 30 days’ entry on arrival; however, you must have evidence of onward travel. You can find more information here.

• Weather: The Philippines has two key seasons, the dry season, which is when I visited and runs between December and early May (I visited in April) and the rainy season, which is June through to October.

my itinerary

• El Nido, Palawan - popular boho tourist beach town with epic beach trips

• Coron, Palawan - limestone island loved for its scuba diving

• Moalboal, Cebu - swim with sardines and splash through canyons

• Siquijor - an island famed for witchcraft, waterfalls and forest walks

• Bohol - rolling chocolate hills to sandbar beach hopping

my highlights! *:･ﾟ✧

Island hopping in El Nido – I started my time in the Philippines in El Nido, a small but popular tourist town off the West coast of Palawan. I’m not exaggerating when I say, this place is the definition of postcard perfection. Set between soaring limestone cliffs, sitting at a beach bar in El Nido, you’ll be served up views of flocks of traditional wooden boats docked up before a horizon of limestone islands waiting to be explored.

While the town is great fun, with some of the best restaurants and bars I've visited in the Philippines, it’s the nearby islands that steal the show. Opt for any of the set tours (A,B,C,D, Honestly I can’t remember the difference between them all, but each tour proivider is legally to offer the same experiences at designated time slots to mitigate overtourism and overcrowding).

Whichever option you choose, you’ll start the day wading out to your wooden bangka boats. As I stepped into the lukewarm ocean, I was eternally grateful that we’d splashed out on a waterproof bag to keep our money and electronics dry during our adventures. Once on board with fellow Filipinos, Australians, and European tourists alike, the captain pulled the cord on the engine, and we were off.

Over the next six hours, we’d dock at various swimming spots and remote beaches. It was certainly worthwhile bringing goggles or renting snorkelling masks, because at our very first stop, we spotted a family of black-striped clownfish guarding their anemone.

For lunch, the crew whipped up a spread of fresh seafood: chargrilled fish, fresh fruit, noodles, and tiny crab shells, which I clumsily thumbed open beneath the shade of towering palm trees.

Sunseeking at Nacpan beach — We decided to escape the hustle and bustle of El Nido’s main town for a day to visit Nacpan Beach, which is arguably the best beach in the area. It stretches for miles, with white-sand shores lined with coconut trees, small beach bars, and restaurants.

While away the hours sunbathing (top tip: rent a sunlounger for the day to ensure you have access to shade, it gets incredibly hot here). Simple pleasures: overheating, cooling off in the clear, warm waters, and refuelling with a simple lunch of freshly caught, grilled fish and rice.

Check into the Mad Monkey Hostel if you want the off-grid experience for longer than a day.

Swimming among schools of sardines — Much like El Nido, Moalboal is a small town that has become the de facto destination for tourists visiting the island of Cebu, especially if you’re a marine biology nerd like me. The sardine run refers to the enormous swarming bait balls that form along the edge of the rocky drop-off about 100 metres from shore.

As I wasn’t yet a qualified open-water diver (we’ll come back to this later), I opted to hire a snorkel, mask, and fins to see the fish without a guide, as I’m a strong swimmer. I wouldn’t necessarily advise this, as safety should always be your number-one priority; ironically, I felt most unsafe when I drifted too near a group tour.

It turns out that many tourists can’t swim. Apparently, with the help of a strong local guide, a pulley contraption, a buoy, and some lifejackets, that wasn’t an obstacle. They floundered about, panicking at the slightest wave, and even tried grabbing me to stay afloat — terrifying.

And the sardines themselves? Incredible. I could have watched them buzz about for hours. The steep drop-off at the edge of the shoreline only adds to the drama.

Bobbing about Coron Island — If crystal blue lagoons, Japanese ship wrecks and some of the best dive sites in the world, then Coron is an essential stop on your Filipino foray. Sail to the popular sights on a boat tour: Kayangan Lake, Twin Lagoon, and Barracuda Lake, each with unique swimming spots with some of the cleanest and clearest water in the world. If you’re qualified, I would highly recommend spending a few days diving here in Coron, the best months for visibility are between January and March, expect to see colour reefs, barracudas, turtles and a rainbow of tropical fish.

Top tip: Popular ferry trips, such as the one which connects El Nido with Coron, book up quickly. Make sure you plan wherever possible to avoid disappointment.

Swimming with turtles — Animal tourism is a difficult subject. More often than it is rooted in systemic animal abuse, centring the tourist experience and profit over love for wildlife. Apo Island Marine Sanctuary is one of the world’s largest and best-preserved reserves for green turtles. The rich biodiversity boasts over 615 documented species of fish and an estimated over 400 coral species, including the turtles, which thrive by lazily grazing on algae-rich seagrass in the shallows of the shore. The site is carefully managed in collaboration with Silliman University Marine Laboratory, meaning all tours are carefully managed and visitors have to follow strict no-touch rules.

We booked through CoCo Grove, a premium resort on Siquijor Island. Pick between two options: the snorkelling tour, as we did or the qualified diver one. Expectations were immediately exceeded when we spotted a pod of leaping bottlenose dolphins en route to Apo Island on the private yacht. At the beach, each pair of visitors is assigned a guide who ensures no turtles are touched or harmed in any way as you bob about and watch them float around the bay. Afterwards, the tour enjoys a buffet lunch on the beach, followed by further snorkelling in another coral bay of the marine park. I saw every single fish from Finding Nemo; no joke.

Chocolate hills, flying high & midnight fireflies — Bohol packed more than I initially anticipated. I started with a day trip to the spherical, rolling Chocolate Hills (disappointingly, there were no sweet treats), followed by a stop-off at the Loboc Ecotourism Adventure Park for an adrenaline-pumping, head-first zipline across the jungle valley.

Another popular activity on Bohol is visiting the Bohol Tarsier Conservation Area; however, as these tiny primates are nocturnal, it felt unethical to visit them during their sleeping hours, and some tourists were even waking them up to take photos.

On the other hand, a wildlife experience that should be on your itinerary is a nocturnal kayaking safari through the mangroves of the Abatan River Delta Wetland Reserve. I booked with Maribojoc Mangrove Firefly Watching, who took us in kayaks downstream in search of fireflies. Lit by nothing but the full moon, we paddled past trees illuminated like dancing Christmas trees, alive with buzzing fireflies.

Witchcraft and waterfalls — Siquijor is an unusual island with a reputation for witchcraft and voodoo. While I didn’t encounter any other-worldly folk, I did find it magical. My favourite activity was Cambugahay Falls, bright turquoise cascades where you can waste a day swinging off rope swings and plunging into the waters. Other spots worth checking out: The Old Enchanted Balete Tree, if you want your toes to be nibbled by tiny fishes underneath a 400-year-old tree, the Lazi Church for an insight into traditional Catholic architecture here in the Philippines and Canghaling Cave.

@by.beccamaewe 🫶 the Philippines! There are so many islands to explore - we can’t wait to return and see more places, but for now here is everywhere we visited including things to do. #thephilippines #travelitinerary #philipinestravel🇵🇭 #backpackingsoutheastasia #fyp #southeastasiatravel #elnido #palawan

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my google maps

Planning a trip to the Philippines? Save my Google Maps list here to check out my recommendations for yourself. I haven’t visited all of these places; some are recommendations from other people, so pick at your discretion!

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My early twenties were dictated by cheap wine, roll-up cigarettes, and late nights at the pub. Overwhelmed by entering the professional world, I was yet to realise that the aforementioned coping mechanisms were dragging me deeper into a thick soup of mental chaos. Enter running.

My first 5K was a stop-start 40-minute affair, punctuated by heavy wheezing and roaring hip-hop drowning out the thudding of my heart. Only a few weeks later, I remember being elated at hitting 9K, weaving around the empty, glass-lined streets of Canary Wharf. My addiction-prone brain was hooked, and I’ve been a loyal road runner since.

Five years later, I’m happily wasting my days carving out article pitches and scribbling up Substack pieces in Mexico City, a million miles from St Paul’s estate in Mile End. When I’m not writing or filming content for my TikTok, I’m running.

Running is the single grounding force in my life. From being mind-numbingly bored of living in my rural English hometown to determinedly smashing out a nine-miler on a hotel treadmill next to Cancún airport on New Year’s Eve, I wholeheartedly believe that the simple act of putting one foot in front of another has held me together — and kept me somewhat functional.

After condensing my earthly possessions down into a 40L Decathlon backpack, boarding a one-way flight to Mexico, and rocking up in one of the biggest cities in the Americas with little more than a dream and a 90-day tourist visa, you might assume I’d be freaking out.

You’d assume correctly.

@by.beccamaehello! it’s long run time here in cdmx 🌆 🇲🇽 if we haven’t met before hi hi, I’m Becca, I’m living in Mexico City solo female for the next few months and will be sharing my travel lifestyle along with my fave things: running (pretty slowly ngl), visiting museums in cdmx, eating everything and writing ✍️ I’m running my next half marathon (eek) and will be trying to get a PB in December!! besides running I’m also exploring the city, eating everything and writing travel guides and diaries over on my substack — hope you stick aroundddd #halfmarathon #Running #travellifestyle #mexicotravel #mexicocitytravel

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I did kinda freak out. Nothing earth-shattering or sobriety-ruining, but panic-inducing nonetheless. After over a year of daydreaming, saving, and meticulous planning, my feet were firmly on international soil. But I was scared to take a step.

How long should I stay in Mexico City? Should I head south and waste a few weeks bumming around the beaches of Puerto Escondido? Should I backpack further and hike mountains in Guatemala? Should I apply for jobs in the capital? Should I volunteer at an art gallery? Should I sign up for Spanish school? How many journalism pitches should I be sending to editors each day? Should I rent a room in a house share, commit to a gym membership, or book a flight to Colombia?

My ADHD brain was doing what it does best — ruminating.

The only solution, the only way through it, was on foot. In my first week in CDMX, I ran 54.93km. I may be nervous and unsure of what lies ahead, but each day I would arise, lace up my trainers, and hit the streets. I used my runs to mentally map out the barrios: starting with the city’s central artery, Reforma — the grand street with the golden Angel of Independence, lined with soaring skyscrapers and totally pedestrianised every Sunday morning. Gradually, my worries melted away, discarded somewhere in the leafy streets of Condesa, beside the fruit vendor in Escandón, or outside the WeWork on Insurgentes Sur.

check out what i’ve been up to this week over on youtube ↓

As many creatives will likely relate, I feel like I’m working, waiting and praying for a golden ticket. A pitch commission. A freelance project. A brand deal. I’m up against the clock. An imaginary countdown set by me. A time frame in which to either start earning real money as a freelance writer OR secure a job here in the capital, providing me with both a steady income and a temporary work visa.

I’m also the kind of person who never feels like they’ve done enough. After running my first marathon, I cried myself to sleep because I was so disappointed with my time. After handing in my dissertation, I looked around my sister’s empty flat, thinking about how little this journalism degree would matter if I weren’t able to actually become a published writer.

All this to say that I’m struggling to find the balance between living and grinding during this strange liminal stage of my life. Moving to a new place means restarting everything.

After week one in a hostel in El Centro, I’d spent plenty of time on walking tours and activities with backpackers from France, England and the Netherlands. The usual crew you’d find in Latin America or Southeast Asia. But as backpackers do, they packed their bags and headed south for Oaxaca, Chiapas and eventually, Guatemala.

While I’m happy to spend days in my own company, I knew I needed to make some new friends who lived here. Thankfully, moving into a house share ticked that box for me, slowly interweaving into a network of friends, plus meeting people through dating apps and even TikTok.

So, in between doomscrolling LinkedIn, sending endless pitches to newspaper editors and creating travel guides here on Substack, here’s what I’ve been up to to try and build a life…

bailar en la pulqeria

My housemate friends are big fans of Friday night dancing in El Centro. Apparently, the best place to do so is the pulqueria. If you’re not familiar with them, a pulqueria is a traditional Mexican bar that sells pulque, the fermented sap from the agave plant. Although I don’t drink, my curiosity overtook me as I simply couldn’t fathom what the thick milky beverage would taste like. The tiniest sip confirmed it: not a lot. But when mixed with other flavours, especially pineapple juice, it’s pretty good. The pulqueria isn’t a fancy establishment; its closest UK equivalent would be a flat-top pub, or maybe a city dive bar. Often they have live music, making them the spot for Friday night dancing. Oh yeah, and I can’t dance at all, my experience was being uncomfortably spun around and trying to at least do SOMETHING with my feet.

saving pennies cat sitting

I was an avid petsitting advocate while working remotely in the UK. My subscription to TrustedHouseSitters allowed me to spend a week in Brighton and London, two of England’s most expensive cities, in exchange for cat sitting. I still have an active subscription, so I decided to take a look and see if any were open here in CMDX. To my joy, there was one looking for a ginger cat in a light, studio apartment only a stone’s throw from Chapultepec. The money-saving gods must have been looking down on me, because now I’m living totally rent-free until mid-January.

coyocan mercados

The difference between slow travel and backpacking is that, instead of three days, having three months to explore a destination means you can take things slow. For instance, while I had run to the park in Coyoacan, it was only yesterday that I explored the mercados and streets. Both the main market and the artisan one were packed with pretty ceramic mugs, sacred heart mirrors, tarot card coasters and fun little trinkets. When I get my own flat again, I’ll be filling it with cute bits and bobs from here. Apparently, the wait list for the Frida Kahlo museum is weeks long, so I should probably look into that soon.

@by.beccamaethings to do if Coyoacán, Mexico City is your next travel destination ⭐️ We started by grabbing a coffee from el jarocho, a cafe which serves 100% Mexican coffee, then went shopping for homeware, trinkets and jewellery in Coyocan market and the artisan market. #travel #mexicocity #coyoacán #cdmx #traveltips

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hitting up hinge

For the past year and a half, I’ve been living with my parents in my home town. This isn’t conducive to dating, even just with the goal to meet interesting people. So I didn’t. It was the perfect excuse to focus entirely on myself. However, now I’m in a new city, with endless date activities available, I decided it was time to give it another crack. Hilariously, it has turned into the easiest way to have fun. Mornings with Chilaquiles breakfasts, premium cinema trips in posh Polanco, baseball batting cages, bouji matcha shops. I think I’ve done more ‘normal’ activities here than real tourist ones; I’m yet to visit the canals of Xochimilco, the pyramids of Teotihuacan or lucha libre fighting.

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On moving to London and realising that regional identities were assets, I clung to my countryside upbringing as a point of proud difference. While I didn’t want to move back to my tiny hometown, I was proud to be a West Country girl. Leaving gave me the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of Devon from a distance. Slowly but surely, I began to miss the heather-clad lanes, empty beach coves, and rolling fields.

Today, ten years on from my seventeen-year-old bitterness, I pause whenever I catch myself beginning to criticise Devon. Because, while no, I don’t want to live there, I still love it dearly and think it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Here are a few of my favourite wild, rugged corners of the county I will always call home *:･ﾟ✧

the coast path, near hope cove

Personally, the South Hams reigns as the ultimate region of the South West. For me, it encapsulates the best of the county’s beauty: think craggy cliffs, rolling green farmland, and hidden beaches where, if you’re lucky, you might spot a dozing grey seal. In summer, the coast path feels like the edge of the world; everything is blue and green; you’re surrounded by sky and sea as far as the eye can see.

Honestly, place me anywhere along the stretch between Salcombe and Bantham and I’d be happy. This summer, my parents and I walked a few routes near Hope Cove, which is an ideal option because the village has a few great coffee stops. Harking back once again to my teenage years, my friends and I completed our DofE hikes along this stretch of coastline.

east prawle, south hams

Another South Hams gem: East Prawle, the most southerly point in Devon. If you want to disconnect from the world, this is the place to do it. There’s next to nothing in the village besides holiday accommodation and The Pigs Nose Inn, an iconic 16th-century pub that has hosted some famous performers in its adjoining village hall venue. It’s also gloriously eccentric, packed with memorabilia and cosy corners. Camp in one of the nearby fields and wake to undisturbed views of the sea.

deer fields, dartington

When I was living at home and needed some space to breathe, I would run upstream along the River Dart to the Dartington Estate. The estate and its picture-perfect gardens, dotted with sculptures and rose beds, used to be free to access, but it has since tightened its purse strings and now charges for entry. My wild corner tends to be quieter: the woodlands and deer fields. Something about the looming heights of the evergreen pines instantly relaxes me; they cast long shadows under which silent deer dart. While I’m not a keen trail runner, this route is undeniably peaceful.

spitchwick, dartmoor

Dartmoor is a land steeped in myths and legends. In primary school, we studied the folklore of the moor: the Hairy Hands that drove cars off the road, and Kitty Jay’s grave, which mysteriously always has fresh flowers upon it. Considering these were the ghost stories I was raised on, it probably won’t surprise you that I once thought Spitchwick was home to fairies and pixies. In my defence, the rich scent of ferns, carpets of soft moss, and the wild, fresh waters of the River Dart feel like the backdrop to an ancient fable. We were wild swimming here long before wild swimming became cool. Memories of fold-up deckchairs, corned beef sandwiches, and navy gingham picnic blankets bubble up from deep within my childhood subconscious.

valley beach, south hams

Everyone has a favourite beach — this one’s mine. It’s hard to reach, which makes it that little bit quieter and more secret. You can spot it along the scenic stretch of road between Slapton and Blackpool Sands, accessed via a small footpath at the top of the hill. It can get pretty choppy, so I’d only recommend swimming on a calm summer’s day.

my google maps

Planning a trip to Devon? Save my Google Maps list here to check out my recommendations for yourself. I haven’t visited all of these places; some are recommendations from other people, so pick at your discretion!

Follow me over on TikTok ↓

@by.beccamaehere are the best things to do in south devon (save for your next trip!) 🌊🐄 • hike the south west coast path — explore the trails that weave along the coastline and find hidden coves • spend the day at the beach — learn to surf in bantham, stand up paddle board around harbours or wild swim, I love elberry cove which is really easy to access in torbay • picnic with wild ponies on dartmoor — the moors are my fave place to clear away the cobwebs, stop off for a pub lunch at the old inn, widecombe • sauna sessions — there are loads of wild saunas around devon, check out south west saunas near dartington • browse indie stores and coffee shops in the market towns of dartmouth & totnes i’m going to share all my faves from devon while i still live here (👀) and hopefully persuade you to make it ones of the UK trips you take in 2025 xxx #travel #southdevon #uktravel #dartmoor #naturewalks #CapCut #uktravelspots #beachvibes #outdoorlife #travelinspo #thingstodoindevon #hiking #southwestcoastpath

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With the connotations of death, spirits and similar dates, many assume that Día de los Muertos is simply the Mexican version of Halloween; however, it’s actually a unique fusion of pre-Hispanic and Catholic practices. From indigenous communities to the capital city, families come together to commemorate deceased loved ones and their safe return to earth. People create ofrendas (shrines) displaying photos to remember family, friends, and even pets, with offerings of flowers, candles, and their favourite foods.

Beyond the family celebrations, many of the big cities come alive with colour and festivity. Businesses adorn their shop windows with seasonal decorations, parades feature huge floats of colourful alebrijes, and panaderías roll out the seasonal sweet treats, including the orange-infused pan de muerto. The month also marks the end of the rainy season, meaning days are pleasantly temperate here in central Mexico.

If you’ve never visited Mexico, then I hope this little guide might inspire you to book that trip for next autumn!

how to celebrate día de muertos as a tourist *:･ﾟ✧

oaxaca

Folk art, mezcal tasting and Tlacolula Valley on Indigenous Tours in Oaxaca: The best way to learn about the land and its community’s traditions is directly from the people themselves! Zapotec Travel is a women- and Indigenous-owned tour provider based in Oaxaca, offering a range of half- and full-day tours and experiences across the state. Food and drink enthusiasts can visit the agave farms, taste hand-crafted artisan mezcal, and enjoy freshly cooked regional dishes, while culture seekers might prefer to visit a local community, take part in traditional offerings, and learn how to paint and create their own folk art.

The company was founded by Lily, who identified a lack of representation for Indigenous women-led initiatives in the tourism sector. All tours focus on sustainable practices that preserve and support local traditions while ensuring fair pay for all businesses across Oaxaca and fairly pay all businesses across Oaxaca.

Wander the streets of the old town: I visited Oaxaca in January, when nothing specific was going on, and to this day it’s still one of the most beautiful cities I’ve stepped foot in. The cobbled streets of Centro are dotted with mezcalerias, artisan craft markets and street food vendors flipping quesadillas on hot griddles. During October, the beauty is amplified, with the traditional wooden doorways adorned with flowers and decorations, and detailed sand paintings on the street

ciudad de mexico

Join a parade and head to the heart of the capital city: Each year, Mexico City hosts a range of parades, displays and events to celebrate Día de los Muertos. The main attraction? The Day of the Dead Parade, which begins at 2 p.m. on 1 November and floods Paseo de la Reforma with marching bands, skull-adorned dancers, floats and more. The parade ends at the Zócalo, which is transformed each year into a giant ofrenda, the largest in the country!

Eat your way around the city: Arguably one of the best things about Mexico is it’s culinary cuisine, which consistently comes out top on ranking charts as the most delicious in the world. Personally, I’d kick start your trip with a tour: Treep Tours and Eat Like a Local are both women, Mexican-owned businesses which run awesome walking tours. I personally booked onto Treep’s Centro Foodie Tour, where I sampled fresh tortillas, chapulines (grasshoppers, seasoned with chile and lime), chocolate and most importantly, tacos.

Beyond organised excursions, don’t miss the chance to sample some of the seasonal treats which pop up during this time of year. Any good panadería will have pan de muerto, an orange blossom-infused sweet bun dusted in granulated sugar.

Check out my vlog from the day over on youtube ↓