I still remember the first time I stepped into the sea in Bali.
It was one of those hot, sticky days , well over 30 degrees, and I’d been dreaming of that perfect moment where the water washes everything away. But instead of the refreshing splash I was used to, it felt like I’d walked straight into a bowl of soup.

The same thing happened again in Gili T. Beautiful, yes. Clear turquoise waters, white sand, swaying palms… the kind of place that looks like it belongs on a postcard. But once again, I waded in… and it was warm. Really warm.

Coming from the north of Spain, I’m used to the sea being crisp and cold – the kind that leaves you feeling alive, fresh and wide awake. So this soft, bathwater heat felt strange. It didn’t feel right. I remember standing waist-deep, thinking, ‘Please, someone put ice cubes in here.’

What made it even trickier was finding a free spot on the beach. Almost every patch of sand seemed to belong to a bar or restaurant. If you weren’t paying for a sunbed or ordering a drink, you couldn’t even sit down. It felt a bit odd, like the beach wasn’t really for everyone unless you were buying something.

Maybe it’s just me. But if you’re someone who loves the zing of a cold sea and the freedom to just drop your towel and dive in, you’ll understand. The warmth of Bali’s waters is something many dream of. But for a few of us, nothing beats that sharp, salty shock of the Atlantic – and a stretch of sand that’s truly open to all.