A wrong turn in Malta ends in a bar you don’t take children to, a stranger with a scar, and a moment that could have gone very wrong.

We were left alone in a seven-bedroom mansion in the middle of nowhere, armed with a checklist, a manual, and a dangerous sense of confidence. Everything seemed under control — until small details started slipping, panic crept in, and reality refused to behave as expected.

A solo weekend in a medieval Spanish castle sounded like the perfect birthday escape — until the storm hit, a ghost appeared, and I lost a reindeer slipper in the middle of the night. What followed was not paranormal… just painfully human.

What happens when you move abroad with big dreams, tiny vocabulary and far too much confidence? Northern Ireland taught me English, resilience… and to never trust pasta in a bread roll.