La Manga Spain

I didn't expect to find the perfect football pitch in Spain, but then I wasn't counting on La Manga. The five star resorts in the south-east of the country has become a magnet for holidaymakers who love sport. Its three championship golf courses and tennis academy with 28 courts are well known the world over but it now has national football teams training there regularly - England prepared for the world cup there.

When we drove past the pitches in early May this year, the grass was immaculate and brilliant green. The groundsmen were not happy about my request to kick a ball about. Apparently a Norwegian club was due to arrive at any moment.

The weather at this time of year in Spain was perfect for sport. We played tennis every day and could have gone riding or quad biking as well. There are a number of pools scattered around the 1,500 acre resort, although we never strayed far from our apartment.

In the nearest city of Cartagena we walked down the narrow cobbled streets to the port, which is where the city was founded 3,000 years ago. Afterwards we ate a typical Spanish meal of seafood in saffron. The waiter was a Real Madrid fan with strong views about their English opponents.

On our last morning we drove down a winding road to a tiny bay. There were only a few people there and so it was easy to get a table at the restaurant that is perched on the rock above the beach. Yet more fish for our last meal in Spain before driving to the airport.

Blog Dartmoor, Devon, England.

Tavistock was market town of the year and we were using it as a base to walk and travel around west Devon and Cornwall. It my family's home territory and we try to get back there at least once a year. This time it was April.

Tavistock is an old stannary (tin) town and its centre has not changed much over the years. The pannier market, its name comes from the panniers or baskets that the farmers' wives brought their produce to sell, is held weekly in the original building, although arts and crafts are as much part of business as chickens and vegetables.

On the first good day we started a walk from Dartmoor Prison, in Princetown, grim building built in 1809 to house French and American prisoners of war. Our plan was to walk for two hours and return for lunch at the Plume of Feathers pub, the best in Princetown.

We set off for Postbridge, a five mile trek across the open moorland. Not everyone likes its bleakness, but the views of the tors (granite hills) and colours of the heather are extraordinary. We tramped across springy and boggy grass, past sheep and the famous wild ponies before finally collapsing on the clapper bridge in Postbridge. These bridges made of huge slabs of granite are unique to Dartmoor and were constructed in the 13th and 14th centuries by medieval tin workers and farmers as crossings over the many small rivers that criss-cross the moorland.

No sooner had we arrived than the heavens opened. Within minutes we were soaked and so we headed for shelter. The Warren House Inn beckoned. A ploughman's lunch and a glass of cider gave us energy for the walk back to Princetown.

Boys go to Zante

It is day Five on Zante and murder is in the air. Our apartment is next to a taverna and the owner, Kimon, plays Zorba the Greek non-stop while scraping the chairs across the stone floor. Nine in the morning may not seem early but if you only got to bed four hours before the music is close to torture.

It is already as hot as you would expect on a Greek island in July. Our cramped apartment with four 18 year old guys plus detritus is rank and only bearable if asleep. Kimon's cafe, music and all, is a better alternative during conscious hours.

Zante - Zakynthos to the Greeks - is the most southerly of the Ionian chain of holiday islands off the coastline of western Greece. The holiday brochures talk about the fishing villages, quiet coves and breathtaking scenery but our group of school-leavers was more interested in the cheap and very cheerful.

We are staying in Laganas in the south , a neon-lit nightmare full of bars, cheap booze and other foreigners. It wasn't that long ago that the British ambassador to Athens dropped in to the see the nightly carnage for himself.

Some of the islanders must wonder if tourism will prove to be as devastating as the earthquake of 1953. There again they have named the bars things like Boozerz, Sizzlers and Cocktail Dreams, so what do they expect?

Okay so last night there were a few scuffles in the street and some poor Greek had his car bonnet mashed by a couple of Newcastle drunks but it could have been worse. For the most part the atmosphere everywhere was friendly. The girls may be fit but can be the worst behaved. They can't handle the drink and just lose it. Two nights ago one staggered out of a bar and hitched up her skirt in the middle of the road to have a henna tattoo painted on her bottom.

Our days are spent on the beach and in the water that is unbelievably warm. There is quite often a good breeze blowing which we discovered has its own dangers. One of our lot fell asleep on the beach not realising how hot it was and was badly burnt, another took out a wind-surfing board and disappeared over the horizon. He had to be rescued before he ended up in Albania. And if you don't want to be picking out the cigarette butts from the sand it is better to move away from Laganas.

The only good thing about living next to Kimon's taverna is the food. It's not great but it's fresh - as long as you like moussaka. We have yet to see fish on the menu, which is strange for an island of fishing villages. We are regulars at his place now and he gives us a bottle of retsina every evening which is the dire local wine.

We were never going to go whale watching or whatever, after all we are celebrating the end of school..

Trip to Kenya

Everyone had said that the smells of Africa were unforgettable and waking up our first morning in Kenya I knew what they meant. I am staying in a friend's house that overlooks Malindi beach and waking early we could see the fishermen bringing in their catch. The chaotic transfer at Mombasa airport last night meant we arrived in the dark and were met by Mohammed, who is driver, cook and general boss- man around the place.

This is my first sight of the place that my friend Milo had been telling me about for years. It is amazing. The house was built for his grandparents when they lived in colonial Africa - and it hasn't changed much apparently. At this time of the day the sand on the beach looks like silver.

We all turn up for breakfast cooked by Mohammed and his wife Mara. They look after the place 24/7 and seem pleased to have the family back for a while. An hour later we are in the sea - warm, tropical temperature. We take our snorkelling gear but the sea is quite rough and anyway the coral is in the next bay which makes up part of a marine national park. We plan to go there early one evening to see the fish which are extraordinary in every way, shape, size and colour.

I can't believe that we are out of bed every day by 7.30 but that's the way to beat the heat. We sleep in the afternoons and even better than at night there are no mozzies to fight off. Mohammed cooks us an incredible dinner every night of fish and some local beans. One of the fish arrived on a dish with spines and what looked like teeth - it tasted good but I wouldn't want to meet the monster face on.

The night life served up some pretty sad bars for us and clubs that were a hit with the oldies. Malindi is over-run by wrinkly old sunbaked Italians - and they've taken over a lot of the houses as well. On the plus side the gelati is outstanding. We go to visit of one of the 'been there since the beginning of time ' English families because they have a boy our age. He's a weird kid though and we decide to give him a wide berth.

The local shops are great - lots of bargaining and cheap cotton clothes. We buy armfuls of the loose pants in African prints to wear day and night. Before I leave I donate a lot of my gear to a boy on the beach who isn't allowed to go to school because he doesn't have proper clothes. I suppose they'll be happy if he turns up in a Man-U shirt.

We are now preparing to go on safari for three days. Nothing fancy just a simple camp site with friends. The animal life is fairly threatening to a city lad - we found Mohammed in the garden beating to death a black mamba one morning and every night I insist on a search for creatures under the bed. The worst hazard is the lavatory - Milo has endless stories of what can pop out of there.

Fingers crossed for safari nights under canvas. What an amazing country though. Poor, corrupt and at times a bit dangerous but people are so friendly and within a few hours of tropical beaches we should be tracking elephants and if we are as lucky as Milo's family last year, watching a lion kill.

Introduction to me

I am Alex and i am a transfer from USC, i am here to playing soccer on a scholorship and will be graduating in december 2010. This is my first class at Loyola. This is actually my first blog, so im struggling at the moment to be fair. I am from London, England and have been in the U.S for two years. I came over to play soccer, and get a degree at the same time, as once i have got my degree i hope to pursue a career in soccer. This blog that i am doing will be based around holidays i have been on and would recommend to all of you...