Day One
It took me just five minutes of staring avidly out of the shuttle bus window to fall in love with Singapore. The neat tree-lined avenues, the invitingly illuminated apartment blocks, the buzzing restaurants, the vibrant shopping malls - admittedly it lacks a certain cultural charm, but still, what's not to love about this squeaky clean, perfectly-proportioned gem of a city? It was even beautiful from the sky as we came in to land, with jagged flashes of lightning cutting through the hazy pink cloud of sunset, the twinkling lights of the city below and the carrier vessels out at sea, positioned as though for a game of battleships.
Although I am perhaps just a little biased since Singapore has given us the best hostel we've ever stayed in - free breakfast, fresh fluffy towels, single beds (goodbye to the bunk!), lockers and free internet. Oh, and a toilet that flushes of its own accord.
Day Two
First things first today, we made a beeline for the Esplanade Theatre (well, as much as we could without a map anyway) in the hope of bagging tickets for Chicago. The city is everything I thought it to be last night - gleaming, clean, ordered and humid. Very reminiscent of the French Concession in Shanghai. We managed to get cheap, 'restricted view' tickets for that night so we celebrated with a Subway lunch then, still recovering from our mammoth day of travelling, headed to the hostel's roof terrace (yes, roof terrace) to soak up the sun. What else are two girls to do in this heat?
Headed to the nearby Lerk Thai restaurant for our pre-theatre dinner and ate vietnamese spring rolls (delicate and delicious as always) and Tom Yam noodle soup which would have benefitted from more paste and much less lemongrass. The show, on the other hand, was faultless. The orchestra was incredible, the casting spot on - all in all, a slick, exciting and lively production. The theatre itself is as impressive as the show, a huge glass capsule not unlike The Sage in Newcastle. Turns out our 'restricted view' involved a pointlessly positioned bar but, lucky for us, there were some empty seats in the circle so we took the liberty of warming those for the second half.
Day Three
Woke up to dreary weather (I am now certain that it is following us) and went of in search of somewhere to change money. Unfortunately the local money changer didn't open up until 9.30am, we were there just before 9. This does not signify a newfound love for early mornings, rather that we get a free breakfast at the hostel. A peculiar one at that. Yesterday, there was stir-fried noodles, chicken sausage and, fairly incongruously, bread and butter pudding. Not that I didn't enjoy it; luckily, I can eat anything for breakfast. At least, I thought so until this morning. We arrived downstairs and I can not convey to you the extent of our excitement upon discovering baked beans and hash browns. We eagerly made toast, sat down, took a mouthful and, horror of horrors, the beans were cold. Stone cold. Who would do such a thing?
This was not our only nasty surprise of the day. Having changed our money, the plan was to head over to Sentosa Island. Singapore had other plans. No sooner had we walked outside when we found ourselves in the middle of a torrential downpour. Optimistically, thinking 'it never lasts long', we sat down to wait it out - how wrong we were. After 15 minutes of waiting hopefully, we accepted defeat and dashed back up to the hostel to get our waterproofs, arriving soaking wet, shivering from the air-con and still with the vile taste of cold baked beans in our mouths. Our plans for Sentosa Island looking less likely by the minute, there was only one things for it: retail therapy. After all, what better way to escape rain than by spending your day in a huge shopping mall? We headed for Orchard Road and immediately felt as though we were back in China - the tall imposing buildings, the Watson's pharmacies and a McDonald's on every corner (Singapore has taken love of fast food to a new level - McDonald's actually delivers here)! I do love this city - it's a far cry from the sterile, unfriendly, almost hostile streets of China - but it is lacking in cultural identity. You could be anywhere in the world, nothing screams we are in Malaysia. Except maybe the lunch we had in the food court of the Far East shopping plaza: soup with chilli noodles, crispy wantons, cantonese-style pork and stirfried greens. It was cheaper, tastier and more wholesome than anything you could hope to find in a shopping centre in England, or anywhere else I have been for that matter.
We headed back to the hostel early, showered, then went to Raffles Bar for the compulsory Singapore Sling which left us pleasantly tipsy (and so it should for $30). Partly to combat the consumption of strong cocktails on an empty stomach, mostly to get our money's worth, we ate copious amounts of nut as well, unashamedly throwing handfuls of shells onto the floor (you're supposed to, I promise) and took more photos than should be possible in the time it takes to finish one drink.
Afterwards, we made our way to Chinatown which was something of an anticlimax. Harassed every time we stopped to look at a menu and forced to confirm that, yes, we do like Chinese food (why else would we be here?), we soon lost our appetites and decided to do the Singapore Flyer first and food afterwards. Had a lovely walk back through the city and a great 45 minutes soaring above it on the world's largest observation wheel - the views of the skyline were breathtaking. Then it was back to the hostel via the Sophia Food Mall for our last night sleeping in a bed other than our own (unless you count our seat on the plane tomorrow).
Day Four
Sentosa Island today - a huge playground of rides, attractions and resorts. Unfortunately, it's more like a playground for construction workers at the moment, but the sun was shining so we were happy. Unable to afford Universal Studios, we settled first for the simulation log flume ride at Cineblast. Although an impressive technological feat, we felt lightly conned since the safety video at the beginning (how much harm can I come to strapped into a simulator capsule?) was longer than the actual ride which lasted a paltry five minutes. The afternoon was spent at Underwater World, by far a more successful attraction. We stroked bamboo sharks, saw arampaimas (one of the largest freshwater fish in the world, reaching lengths of up to 8ft), watched tiny sea angels which look like translucent swimming men with glowing red centres, and hopped on the moving travellator through an 83m-long tunnel where sharks, stingrays and eels glide over your head.
That evening, we decided on Little India for our last supper. This cultural hub is positively buzzing - chaotic traffic, overflowing restaurants, inviting aromas, brightly painted buildings, stalls overflowing with exotic fruit and vegetables, and shops that would put Aladdin's cave to shame. A truly authentic neighbourhood.
True to form, we somehow managed to track down the one inauthentic restaurant for our last meal as backpackers. It was so new they hadn't even bothered to take the polythene off the chair legs (alas, we only noticed this after we had ordered). The food was perfectly edible, it just wasn't quite the authentic experience I was hoping for. Oh well, a good excuse to come back I suppose. Then it was straight to Changi airport to await our flight and contemplate our homecoming.
And that's it. 101 days of jetsetting around the world and we are now officially homebound. It's been an incredible journey but tomorrow we will be back on English soil. Surprisingly, I absolutely can not wait!
Saturday, 12 June 2010
Thursday, 27 May 2010
Fiji: Mainland (23 April 2010)
Our last day in Fiji. Had our first lie-in since we got here, ate banana and maple pancakes for breakfast then headed into Nadi, the capital, on the bus which had a long seat perfect for the three of us and no windows, just plastic flaps which rolled up out of the way. Even the bell was old-fashioned, a long piece of string running the length of the bus which, when tugged, rang a little metal bell positioned painfully close to the driver's ear.
I was interested to see the real Fiji, not just the tropical paradise of the resorts. It was a real contradiction. It goes quickly from rural - basic shacks, trees and chicken scratching around on dirt paths - to urban with a huge MacDonald's and a new car showroom. The city centre itself was dusty and rundown. The shops all seemed dark and unwholesome, selling a peculiar mish-mash of wares. The souvenir shop had a hideous plastic toilet roll holder on display (in case you want to take that home to your mum!) and a tacky clock/lamp with various plastic cartoon characters sticking out at bizarre angles. Everywhere, there was someone sitting in the door plying for passing trade. It was a bit disconcerting. Fascinating but disconcerting. Soon, however, we grew too excited by the sun, so we quickly rushed back to the hostel and established ourselves on sunloungers just ten minutes before it started to rain. Typical. So the afternoon was spent writing long overdue postcards and getting ready for our departure. Still can't believe this is our final leg. Three days in Singapore is all that stands between me and home now and it's hard to say what I'm feeling. A peculiar mix of excitement at the prospect of getting home and seeing everyone, and sadness that there will be no more planning and anticipation, no more adventure. We're not quite there yet though, there is just one more mini adventure to go and i'm determined to make the most of it....
I was interested to see the real Fiji, not just the tropical paradise of the resorts. It was a real contradiction. It goes quickly from rural - basic shacks, trees and chicken scratching around on dirt paths - to urban with a huge MacDonald's and a new car showroom. The city centre itself was dusty and rundown. The shops all seemed dark and unwholesome, selling a peculiar mish-mash of wares. The souvenir shop had a hideous plastic toilet roll holder on display (in case you want to take that home to your mum!) and a tacky clock/lamp with various plastic cartoon characters sticking out at bizarre angles. Everywhere, there was someone sitting in the door plying for passing trade. It was a bit disconcerting. Fascinating but disconcerting. Soon, however, we grew too excited by the sun, so we quickly rushed back to the hostel and established ourselves on sunloungers just ten minutes before it started to rain. Typical. So the afternoon was spent writing long overdue postcards and getting ready for our departure. Still can't believe this is our final leg. Three days in Singapore is all that stands between me and home now and it's hard to say what I'm feeling. A peculiar mix of excitement at the prospect of getting home and seeing everyone, and sadness that there will be no more planning and anticipation, no more adventure. We're not quite there yet though, there is just one more mini adventure to go and i'm determined to make the most of it....
Fiji: Beachcomber (20-22 April 2010)
20 April 2010
No such luck on the sunshine front. We arrived to miserable weather and to an even more miserable welcome. We were shown unceremoniously to the huge 100-bed dorm with no walls. That's right, no walls, just nets that barely cover the huge gaps in the side of the hut. Showered then hit the bar to cheer outselves up. It turned out to be a great night; the drinks were flowing, there was a decent live band and once again we turned to our trusty entertainment of cards. This time, in our drunken state, we made it a bit more active, imposing rules which, when broken, saw people throwing themselves around the dancefloor on their own to the sound of our supportive 'whoops'! It was a very late night and I guess I might be warming to Beachcomber just a little now...
21 April 2010
Finally the sun comes out. Spent a very happy day making the most of it then a very happy evening making the most of the live band and the dancefloor again!
22 April 2010
Our last day in the islands. No, the sun didn't come out again for us which is how we ended up sitting in the bar area watching Sweet Home Alabama. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon I suppose. Eventually, it was 5pm and time to leave. and we arrived back to the mainland feeling nostalgic that only 12 days before we were just starting out. We decided to go out for dinner to cheer ourselves up. The main road was very dark and practically every car that drove past beeped at us or shouted something out of the window but we pushed on (what can I say, we really wanted a pizza) and soon arrived at a huge colonial building with verandas and elaborate wrought-iron railings. We ordered the biggest pizza I have ever seen, three lots of garlic bread and salad and devoured the lot. And, yes, it did cheer us up.
No such luck on the sunshine front. We arrived to miserable weather and to an even more miserable welcome. We were shown unceremoniously to the huge 100-bed dorm with no walls. That's right, no walls, just nets that barely cover the huge gaps in the side of the hut. Showered then hit the bar to cheer outselves up. It turned out to be a great night; the drinks were flowing, there was a decent live band and once again we turned to our trusty entertainment of cards. This time, in our drunken state, we made it a bit more active, imposing rules which, when broken, saw people throwing themselves around the dancefloor on their own to the sound of our supportive 'whoops'! It was a very late night and I guess I might be warming to Beachcomber just a little now...
21 April 2010
Finally the sun comes out. Spent a very happy day making the most of it then a very happy evening making the most of the live band and the dancefloor again!
22 April 2010
Our last day in the islands. No, the sun didn't come out again for us which is how we ended up sitting in the bar area watching Sweet Home Alabama. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon I suppose. Eventually, it was 5pm and time to leave. and we arrived back to the mainland feeling nostalgic that only 12 days before we were just starting out. We decided to go out for dinner to cheer ourselves up. The main road was very dark and practically every car that drove past beeped at us or shouted something out of the window but we pushed on (what can I say, we really wanted a pizza) and soon arrived at a huge colonial building with verandas and elaborate wrought-iron railings. We ordered the biggest pizza I have ever seen, three lots of garlic bread and salad and devoured the lot. And, yes, it did cheer us up.
Fiji: Mantaray (19-20 April 2010)
19 April 2010
A brilliant first evening at Mantaray, not least because the food here is the best we have had in the islands. There were actual courses. Creamy pumpkin soup flavoured with cumin, pesto, feta and roast vegetable tart and savoury chicken crepes with mashed potato and steamed vegetables. After that, we stayed up late playing cards. I think it's becoming an addiction since I didn't get to bed until 3am (although that might have been more to do with the flowing rum than the cards)? Took an age to swipe all the dead insects off my bed, check for lurking geckos with the feeble light of my head torch and wrestle my mosquito net down over the top bunk, but after that I slept remarkably well, for the three hours until breakfast that is.
20 April 2010
Yet more rain. Had a very productive morning though fashioning jewellery out of coconut shell, accompanied by the activities organiser who kept disappearing only to return a few moments later strumming a guitar and singing Jason Mraz with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. After another delicous meal of fish goujons, aoili and salad, we hopped back on the boat and heading to our final island, Beachcomber, with everything crossed for sunshine.
A brilliant first evening at Mantaray, not least because the food here is the best we have had in the islands. There were actual courses. Creamy pumpkin soup flavoured with cumin, pesto, feta and roast vegetable tart and savoury chicken crepes with mashed potato and steamed vegetables. After that, we stayed up late playing cards. I think it's becoming an addiction since I didn't get to bed until 3am (although that might have been more to do with the flowing rum than the cards)? Took an age to swipe all the dead insects off my bed, check for lurking geckos with the feeble light of my head torch and wrestle my mosquito net down over the top bunk, but after that I slept remarkably well, for the three hours until breakfast that is.
20 April 2010
Yet more rain. Had a very productive morning though fashioning jewellery out of coconut shell, accompanied by the activities organiser who kept disappearing only to return a few moments later strumming a guitar and singing Jason Mraz with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. After another delicous meal of fish goujons, aoili and salad, we hopped back on the boat and heading to our final island, Beachcomber, with everything crossed for sunshine.
Fiji: Coral View (17-19 April 2010)
17 April 2010
I warmed to Coral View immediately - all the staff are friendly and happy and we were made to feel very welcome. The accommodation is the best so far as well with white-washed walls, ceiling fans and a bathroom actually in the dorm. Luxury.
18 April 2010
Just ten days left of our trip and I am sitting inside, my tan fading by the second, watching the torrential rain outside. Yes, it is raining again in Fiji. I am less than impressed. This is our second day of bad weather and rain is just not what we signed up for! It's bad enough when it rains at home but it's even worse on a tropical island because there is quite literally nothing to do. At home, on days like this, you can snuggle up on the sofa with a warm drink and a good book, you can go bowling, or to the cinema - the possibilities for having fun when it rains in England are endless, which is good because that's what it does most of the time. Here, there is nothing. The beach is rendered fairly joyless, the tide is too far out to swim without cutting yourself to shreds on the coral and there is little point in doing the summit walk because the view will be non-existent with these clouds. This leaves just reading or playing cards, but a day consisting of these two activities in slow rotation is a very long one, believe me.
19 April 2010
Caving trip this morning. We didn't set out in the best of moods as the rain brought out all the mosquitoes and we were mauled while waiting for our boat which was forty minutes late - good old Fiji time. The cave was incredible though, a huge cylinder of sculpted stone and cliff with a natural skylight. It would have been better had we been given snorkelling gear like everyone else though; there is only so long you can tread water in an icy lagoon listening to people shout 'oh look, another massive eel', so we spent most of our time there sitting shivering on a rock like Gollum.
Then it was time to say goodbye to Coral View. The staff sang the Fijian farewell song Isa Lei which is beautiful - I love that you can always get the mood of their music, even though you can't understand the words. I am sorry to leave this island.
I warmed to Coral View immediately - all the staff are friendly and happy and we were made to feel very welcome. The accommodation is the best so far as well with white-washed walls, ceiling fans and a bathroom actually in the dorm. Luxury.
18 April 2010
Just ten days left of our trip and I am sitting inside, my tan fading by the second, watching the torrential rain outside. Yes, it is raining again in Fiji. I am less than impressed. This is our second day of bad weather and rain is just not what we signed up for! It's bad enough when it rains at home but it's even worse on a tropical island because there is quite literally nothing to do. At home, on days like this, you can snuggle up on the sofa with a warm drink and a good book, you can go bowling, or to the cinema - the possibilities for having fun when it rains in England are endless, which is good because that's what it does most of the time. Here, there is nothing. The beach is rendered fairly joyless, the tide is too far out to swim without cutting yourself to shreds on the coral and there is little point in doing the summit walk because the view will be non-existent with these clouds. This leaves just reading or playing cards, but a day consisting of these two activities in slow rotation is a very long one, believe me.
19 April 2010
Caving trip this morning. We didn't set out in the best of moods as the rain brought out all the mosquitoes and we were mauled while waiting for our boat which was forty minutes late - good old Fiji time. The cave was incredible though, a huge cylinder of sculpted stone and cliff with a natural skylight. It would have been better had we been given snorkelling gear like everyone else though; there is only so long you can tread water in an icy lagoon listening to people shout 'oh look, another massive eel', so we spent most of our time there sitting shivering on a rock like Gollum.
Then it was time to say goodbye to Coral View. The staff sang the Fijian farewell song Isa Lei which is beautiful - I love that you can always get the mood of their music, even though you can't understand the words. I am sorry to leave this island.
Fiji: Korovou (15-17 April 2010)
15 April 2010
Arrived in Korovou, a distinctly more touristy resort, at lunchtime. There are sturdier buildings here, a large terrace and a chlorinated pool, none of the charm of the other islands. I will, however, forgive them for the bland lunch of fried rice because this was the first place we received a welcome drink and a flower for our hair.
Spent a restless afternoon by the pool then had another average meal before experiencing the surreal entertainment factor of the island's 'bula boys', young men wearing no shirts and grass skirts, who wriggled around in front of us to no discernible routine or rhythm for two whole songs. It was a very awkward six minutes, kind of like being invited to watch the dancefloor in a tropical nightclub first thing in the evening when only the bold take to the floor. Then of course we had to get involved and learn the 'dance', although it was beyond me how they could teach it to us when they had failed to teach it to themselves, stumbling through the song and frequently glancing at each other to ensure that, yes, they were still all out of time. Something to look forward to tomorrow night at least.
17 April 2010
Very ill yesterday for some reason so spent the whole day in bed. Feeling better today which is a relief. Spent a restless morning by the pool - it was unbearably hot, without a breath of wind or a moment's relief - then watched the coconut demonstration before leaving Korovou. First they removed the husk, then cracked it open with their hands before scraping the flesh from the shell using a specially-designed little stool with a dagger poking out at one end. We just had time for a taste then it was on to Coral View.
Arrived in Korovou, a distinctly more touristy resort, at lunchtime. There are sturdier buildings here, a large terrace and a chlorinated pool, none of the charm of the other islands. I will, however, forgive them for the bland lunch of fried rice because this was the first place we received a welcome drink and a flower for our hair.
Spent a restless afternoon by the pool then had another average meal before experiencing the surreal entertainment factor of the island's 'bula boys', young men wearing no shirts and grass skirts, who wriggled around in front of us to no discernible routine or rhythm for two whole songs. It was a very awkward six minutes, kind of like being invited to watch the dancefloor in a tropical nightclub first thing in the evening when only the bold take to the floor. Then of course we had to get involved and learn the 'dance', although it was beyond me how they could teach it to us when they had failed to teach it to themselves, stumbling through the song and frequently glancing at each other to ensure that, yes, they were still all out of time. Something to look forward to tomorrow night at least.
17 April 2010
Very ill yesterday for some reason so spent the whole day in bed. Feeling better today which is a relief. Spent a restless morning by the pool - it was unbearably hot, without a breath of wind or a moment's relief - then watched the coconut demonstration before leaving Korovou. First they removed the husk, then cracked it open with their hands before scraping the flesh from the shell using a specially-designed little stool with a dagger poking out at one end. We just had time for a taste then it was on to Coral View.
Fiji: Waya Lailai (13-15 April 2010)
13 April 2010
Another day of not much at all in paradise. Up again at 7am for breakfast (these unsociable mealtimes are my only issue so far in Fiji) then had an hour of sunbathing before the boat arrived to transfer us to Waya Lailai, our next island. Turns out it's quite a complex procedure going from one island to another. First you have to board a little water taxi which is always wet despite the blazing sunshine. Then you head out to sea and bob around waiting for the big boat to pull up alongside you, always threatening to a) splash you mercilessly or b) mow you down. Either way, it's a very novel approach to sea travel. At Waya Lailai, we again crammed ourselves and our luggage - which is tossed around as though there is no ocean below waiting to swallow it up - into another unfeasibly small boat and cruised ashore to a welcome song from the staff.
It's a bigger island than South Sea. Admittedly, that's not difficult; there are bigger houses than South Sea. But it has a great set-up - a long sandy beach and teraces cut into the green, forested hills where little thatched beach huts serve as accommodation. Our dorm reminds me for some reason of a Civil War hospital though. It's a long, dark and narrow room, humid and hot, with rows of beds draped in mosquito netting. Not that it matters, we won't be spending much time there anyway.
We whiled away the morning on the beach then ate a lunch of fish goujons, stir-fry and rice. This was accompanied by the obligatory slices of pineapple and watermelon which have accompanied every meal so far in Fiji. After lunch, we took a weaving class with the ladies from the village, who taught us to weave bracelets from dried leaves, then finished the day with a nap in the fading sunshine.
14 April 2010
Woke to glorious sunshine, perfect for our reef shark snorkelling trip. It was a bit disconcerting on the way out. The reef is in the middle of the sea, we were in a tiny fishing boat and a man sat at the helm sharpening his spear all the way. The suddenly he threw himself off the boat into the middle of the ocean - we looked at our other companion in surprise but he didn't seem to notice (or care) that his friend was gone. We later picked him and he swung back into the boat followed by a string of fresh and colourful fish.
The snorkelling was incredible. The reef sharks aren't dangerous and only about 1.5m in length but they are an exact miniature of that deadly form we have conditioned ourselves to fear. At one point, there were four circling slowly below us, occasionally darting to the surface to snatch the morsels of fish our guide was holding out (and there was me thinking you're not supposed to provoke them)! Though they didn't touch us, they came within about a foot and seemed completely nonplussed by our presence.
After that it was back to our usual busy schedule of lazing on the beach, occassionally dipping into the water which is as hot as a bath, and eating copious amounts of food. The evening brought excitement though in the form of Waya Lailai's Fijian Night. They started with a kava ceremony then dished up the most delicious meal we have had so far, a traditional Fijian meal cooked in a underground oven called a lovo. The food was excellent, not disimilar in style to the maori hangi: pureed spinach with coconut milk, fried aubergine, succulent chicken and pork, root vegetables and terro root (a dense, earthy potato). We finished with steamed chocolate pudding and strawberry sauce. I love not having to cook for myself at the moment.
A concert followed dinner, with all the locals in Fijian dress performing traditional songs and dances for us. It was so nice to see such community spirit (Waya Lailai is the only resort in the Yasawa's that is run completely by the locals); obviously everyone form the village pitches in to keep the resort going. Once again, it is refreshing to see that cultural identity is still being passed down the generations. Imagine gathering together everyone from a village in England and asking them to perform a traditional English dance. What on earth would we do? The macarena?! It's not even an English song! I suppose this cultural preservation is easier in a country where the way of life is not advancing so rapidly. Stories, songs and dances are passed down, not forgotten in the scramble to gain control of the TV remote.
Anyway, it was a great evening...until they asked us to join in, that is. Suddenly a man perspiring more than I ever believed it possible to perspire made a beeline for us and grabbed hold of me and Megan and squashing each of us securely under one arm. I could actually feel the heat emanating from his armpit (a situation no-one should ever have to be in). Let's just say it was not my favourite five minutes of dancing. Once it was over, it took us two antiseptic wipes, a soap label, a layer of aftersun and a spritz of insect repellent to obliterate the smell. And we laughed throughout the whole process. We couldn't help it; there is something very amusing about smelling like an old man's armpit it turns out!
Another day of not much at all in paradise. Up again at 7am for breakfast (these unsociable mealtimes are my only issue so far in Fiji) then had an hour of sunbathing before the boat arrived to transfer us to Waya Lailai, our next island. Turns out it's quite a complex procedure going from one island to another. First you have to board a little water taxi which is always wet despite the blazing sunshine. Then you head out to sea and bob around waiting for the big boat to pull up alongside you, always threatening to a) splash you mercilessly or b) mow you down. Either way, it's a very novel approach to sea travel. At Waya Lailai, we again crammed ourselves and our luggage - which is tossed around as though there is no ocean below waiting to swallow it up - into another unfeasibly small boat and cruised ashore to a welcome song from the staff.
It's a bigger island than South Sea. Admittedly, that's not difficult; there are bigger houses than South Sea. But it has a great set-up - a long sandy beach and teraces cut into the green, forested hills where little thatched beach huts serve as accommodation. Our dorm reminds me for some reason of a Civil War hospital though. It's a long, dark and narrow room, humid and hot, with rows of beds draped in mosquito netting. Not that it matters, we won't be spending much time there anyway.
We whiled away the morning on the beach then ate a lunch of fish goujons, stir-fry and rice. This was accompanied by the obligatory slices of pineapple and watermelon which have accompanied every meal so far in Fiji. After lunch, we took a weaving class with the ladies from the village, who taught us to weave bracelets from dried leaves, then finished the day with a nap in the fading sunshine.
14 April 2010
Woke to glorious sunshine, perfect for our reef shark snorkelling trip. It was a bit disconcerting on the way out. The reef is in the middle of the sea, we were in a tiny fishing boat and a man sat at the helm sharpening his spear all the way. The suddenly he threw himself off the boat into the middle of the ocean - we looked at our other companion in surprise but he didn't seem to notice (or care) that his friend was gone. We later picked him and he swung back into the boat followed by a string of fresh and colourful fish.
The snorkelling was incredible. The reef sharks aren't dangerous and only about 1.5m in length but they are an exact miniature of that deadly form we have conditioned ourselves to fear. At one point, there were four circling slowly below us, occasionally darting to the surface to snatch the morsels of fish our guide was holding out (and there was me thinking you're not supposed to provoke them)! Though they didn't touch us, they came within about a foot and seemed completely nonplussed by our presence.
After that it was back to our usual busy schedule of lazing on the beach, occassionally dipping into the water which is as hot as a bath, and eating copious amounts of food. The evening brought excitement though in the form of Waya Lailai's Fijian Night. They started with a kava ceremony then dished up the most delicious meal we have had so far, a traditional Fijian meal cooked in a underground oven called a lovo. The food was excellent, not disimilar in style to the maori hangi: pureed spinach with coconut milk, fried aubergine, succulent chicken and pork, root vegetables and terro root (a dense, earthy potato). We finished with steamed chocolate pudding and strawberry sauce. I love not having to cook for myself at the moment.
A concert followed dinner, with all the locals in Fijian dress performing traditional songs and dances for us. It was so nice to see such community spirit (Waya Lailai is the only resort in the Yasawa's that is run completely by the locals); obviously everyone form the village pitches in to keep the resort going. Once again, it is refreshing to see that cultural identity is still being passed down the generations. Imagine gathering together everyone from a village in England and asking them to perform a traditional English dance. What on earth would we do? The macarena?! It's not even an English song! I suppose this cultural preservation is easier in a country where the way of life is not advancing so rapidly. Stories, songs and dances are passed down, not forgotten in the scramble to gain control of the TV remote.
Anyway, it was a great evening...until they asked us to join in, that is. Suddenly a man perspiring more than I ever believed it possible to perspire made a beeline for us and grabbed hold of me and Megan and squashing each of us securely under one arm. I could actually feel the heat emanating from his armpit (a situation no-one should ever have to be in). Let's just say it was not my favourite five minutes of dancing. Once it was over, it took us two antiseptic wipes, a soap label, a layer of aftersun and a spritz of insect repellent to obliterate the smell. And we laughed throughout the whole process. We couldn't help it; there is something very amusing about smelling like an old man's armpit it turns out!
Fiji: South Sea Island (11-13 April 2010)
11 April 2010
South Sea Island, the first stop on our island-hopping tour of the Yasawa's, is a little sand isle sprinkled liberally with palm trees in the middle of the ocean. When I say little, I mean it. You can walk its entire circumference in less than five minutes. Roz, Megan (our new accomplice) and I spent the entire day lazing in the sun, stirring only to eat a BBQ lunch and have a lesson in how to tie a sarong (I have the skills, now I just need the sarong)! Now I am sitting in the fading light, the most beautiful part of the day, watching the sun sink lower casting a path of light on the sea towards me like a fallen streak of lightning, and listening to the gentle lapping as the tide rolls in. I just need these mosquitoes to bugger off and I'll be blissfully happy!
12 April 2010
Today was our one day sailing trip aboard 83 foot schooner Seaspray. Had to get up at 7am for breakfast (what happened to Fiji time?) then hop on a boat in the rain one hour later (what happened to the sunshine?) to get the water taxi to meet it. We were feeling a little despondent as the boat lurched through the rough waters, clutching a leaflet in our hands which illustrated what an amazing trip this is on a sunny day, which is most certainly was not. We were lucky in the end though because, even though it was overcast, it didn't rain any more and it was still warm enough (which is a good job because we only intend to wear one outfit in Fiji and that is a bikini)!
We started the morning at Modriki, the uninhabited island used to film Castaway. It was like something out of Jurassic Park - a rocky summit surrounded by thick vegetation and trailing off into sandy beach as it neared the sea. We spent some time exploring - turns out you don't need long on an island of this size - then climbed aboard for an impressive BBQ lunch.
Appetites satisfied, we anchored off Yanuya Island where we visited a traditional Fijian village. We were welcomed ashore by a kava ceremony - we even tried some. It tastes like water which has been drained through soil. Afterwards, we wandered around the village. The houses are very basic and functional, one storey and with slatted windows. It appears to be a very simple and peaceful way of life; they grow their own tapioca, spear their own fish and make jewellery and ornaments from wood and shells to sell to passing boats at their market. Unfortunately, we only had an hour here so before we knew it, we were back on the boat travelling at an alarming 45 degree angle to the sea with the charming crew singing and playing guitar for us. A great day. I'm going to spend the whole evening singing "you are my sunshine" in my head though.
Now I'm sitting back in the same spot watching the sun go down and unable to get over just how beautiful it is here. I can definitely put up with ten more days of this.
South Sea Island, the first stop on our island-hopping tour of the Yasawa's, is a little sand isle sprinkled liberally with palm trees in the middle of the ocean. When I say little, I mean it. You can walk its entire circumference in less than five minutes. Roz, Megan (our new accomplice) and I spent the entire day lazing in the sun, stirring only to eat a BBQ lunch and have a lesson in how to tie a sarong (I have the skills, now I just need the sarong)! Now I am sitting in the fading light, the most beautiful part of the day, watching the sun sink lower casting a path of light on the sea towards me like a fallen streak of lightning, and listening to the gentle lapping as the tide rolls in. I just need these mosquitoes to bugger off and I'll be blissfully happy!
12 April 2010
Today was our one day sailing trip aboard 83 foot schooner Seaspray. Had to get up at 7am for breakfast (what happened to Fiji time?) then hop on a boat in the rain one hour later (what happened to the sunshine?) to get the water taxi to meet it. We were feeling a little despondent as the boat lurched through the rough waters, clutching a leaflet in our hands which illustrated what an amazing trip this is on a sunny day, which is most certainly was not. We were lucky in the end though because, even though it was overcast, it didn't rain any more and it was still warm enough (which is a good job because we only intend to wear one outfit in Fiji and that is a bikini)!
We started the morning at Modriki, the uninhabited island used to film Castaway. It was like something out of Jurassic Park - a rocky summit surrounded by thick vegetation and trailing off into sandy beach as it neared the sea. We spent some time exploring - turns out you don't need long on an island of this size - then climbed aboard for an impressive BBQ lunch.
Appetites satisfied, we anchored off Yanuya Island where we visited a traditional Fijian village. We were welcomed ashore by a kava ceremony - we even tried some. It tastes like water which has been drained through soil. Afterwards, we wandered around the village. The houses are very basic and functional, one storey and with slatted windows. It appears to be a very simple and peaceful way of life; they grow their own tapioca, spear their own fish and make jewellery and ornaments from wood and shells to sell to passing boats at their market. Unfortunately, we only had an hour here so before we knew it, we were back on the boat travelling at an alarming 45 degree angle to the sea with the charming crew singing and playing guitar for us. A great day. I'm going to spend the whole evening singing "you are my sunshine" in my head though.
Now I'm sitting back in the same spot watching the sun go down and unable to get over just how beautiful it is here. I can definitely put up with ten more days of this.
Fiji
10 April 2010
I noticed two things as soon as we arrived in Fiji. Firstly, that the Fijians have a great sense of humour - the guy at passport control took one look at my passport photo, laughed in my face and congratulated me on having lost weight since it was taken. That's the first customs official to acknowledge the fact that I look like a chipmunk with a full mouth on my passport aloud. A very brave man indeed! The second thing I noticed was that there really is such a thing as "Fiji time". Everyone is so relaxed, it's amazing anything gets done at all.
We emerged from the arrivals gate looking like pack horses and were immediately directed outside to await our free transfer to the hostel. And wait we did. For over an hour. I get the impression this is a nothing out of the ordinary. As we sat waiting, the sarong-clad airport staff kept ambling past, repeating "Skylodge Hostel, yeah?", smiling and nodding knowledgably, then retreating with a conspiratorial wink as if the driver who has yet to make it from the hostel less than ten minutes down the road is a mischievous, but impossibly cute, child whose shortcomings must be tolerated. But really, what is the rush? Most of us spend our lives rushing about; there always seems to be somewhere we have to go and something we have to do. We live in a society where tipping up an hour late with no explanation just won't do. We are about to have two weeks in paradise living by Fijian rules and I think I can definitely live with that.
I noticed two things as soon as we arrived in Fiji. Firstly, that the Fijians have a great sense of humour - the guy at passport control took one look at my passport photo, laughed in my face and congratulated me on having lost weight since it was taken. That's the first customs official to acknowledge the fact that I look like a chipmunk with a full mouth on my passport aloud. A very brave man indeed! The second thing I noticed was that there really is such a thing as "Fiji time". Everyone is so relaxed, it's amazing anything gets done at all.
We emerged from the arrivals gate looking like pack horses and were immediately directed outside to await our free transfer to the hostel. And wait we did. For over an hour. I get the impression this is a nothing out of the ordinary. As we sat waiting, the sarong-clad airport staff kept ambling past, repeating "Skylodge Hostel, yeah?", smiling and nodding knowledgably, then retreating with a conspiratorial wink as if the driver who has yet to make it from the hostel less than ten minutes down the road is a mischievous, but impossibly cute, child whose shortcomings must be tolerated. But really, what is the rush? Most of us spend our lives rushing about; there always seems to be somewhere we have to go and something we have to do. We live in a society where tipping up an hour late with no explanation just won't do. We are about to have two weeks in paradise living by Fijian rules and I think I can definitely live with that.
Friday, 9 April 2010
New Zealand: North Island
Leg Five: Auckland to Paihia and back again (4-9 April 2010)
Auckland (4-6 April 2010)
Arrived in Auckland exhausted after our action-packed week and thoroughly nonplussed to be in yet another city. By way of protest, we spent the whole afternoon sitting in the TV room watching bad made-for-TV-movies.
Got up the next morning still feeling uninterested but willing to give New Zealand's biggest city a shot. Headed down to the harbour and wandered along the waterfront browsing the menus of restaurants we couldn't afford to eat in, ending up at Victoria Park which, incidentally, did nothing to cure my dislike of this city. It is just one big scruffy brown playing field hemmed in my some lifeless trees. Despite our better judgement, we tried to sit down and read our books but so many bugs kept feasting on us we were soon forced to admit defeat and head across town to Albert Park which turned out to be a lush green oasis in the midst of this oppressive urban sprawl. It's the perfect suntrap, with manicured lawns, huge tress providing shade and beautifully-maintained flower beds. Spent a lovely afternoon basking in the sunshine, reading and just generally being lazy. Just what we needed after such a hectic few days of "activity". Besides, it's not as if we have the pennies left to do anything exciting! I still refuse to like the rest of Auckland though, it's just so uninspiring, a city built on functionality with no concern for aesthetics, a city where lovely waterfront restaurants stand side-by-side with huge container units. We were definitely pleased to head north to the Bay of Islands the next day.
Paihia, Bay of Islands (6-8 April 2010)
Paihia is a charming little seaside town situated in the Bay of Islands, right at the northern tip of New Zealand. We passed a couple of days here doing not much at all really other than sleeping in, sunbathing, walking along the beautiful coastline looking out at the little forested islands bobbing in the bay and relaxing in the hostel hot tub. Idyllic. The perfect precursor to two weeks of island hopping in Fiji.
Auckland (9-10 April 2010)
Back to Auckland on Thursday evening in time for our free Kiwi Experience day trip the following morning. We were collected at the entirely acceptable hour of 10.15am and taken out to the Harbour Bridge where we put on little harnesses and trekked out under the traffic to watch the bungy jumping.
After enough people had flung themselves from the bridge, we headed north out of the city to Devonport, one of Auckland's oldest suburbs. Here, we had lunch - fish and chips served not on plates, but appealingly on a huge tablecloth of newspaper. Tried hoki for the first time, a delicious white fish with meaty flakes and a delicate flavour. I must admit that I missed the British classic of mushy peas though.
We then headed up the ancient volcano Mount Victoria for panoramic views of the city and surrounding gulf. This distance did much for the city's appearance and it turns out I quite like Auckland when viewed from afar! We arrived back into the city centre mid-afternoon and walked straight to Albert Park. And so I spent my last afternoon in New Zealand sitting in my favourite spot in Auckland, despising the city a little less, writing my blog and reflecting over my time here. It really is the incredible country I was hoping for - a real land of opportunity, where you can do everything from hiking up a glacier and trekking through a volcanic national park, to jumping out of a plane and white water rafting, to sunbathing and surfing. I'll definitely be back. But for now, it's on to the next, and final, stage of our adventure. Fiji.
Auckland (4-6 April 2010)
Arrived in Auckland exhausted after our action-packed week and thoroughly nonplussed to be in yet another city. By way of protest, we spent the whole afternoon sitting in the TV room watching bad made-for-TV-movies.
Got up the next morning still feeling uninterested but willing to give New Zealand's biggest city a shot. Headed down to the harbour and wandered along the waterfront browsing the menus of restaurants we couldn't afford to eat in, ending up at Victoria Park which, incidentally, did nothing to cure my dislike of this city. It is just one big scruffy brown playing field hemmed in my some lifeless trees. Despite our better judgement, we tried to sit down and read our books but so many bugs kept feasting on us we were soon forced to admit defeat and head across town to Albert Park which turned out to be a lush green oasis in the midst of this oppressive urban sprawl. It's the perfect suntrap, with manicured lawns, huge tress providing shade and beautifully-maintained flower beds. Spent a lovely afternoon basking in the sunshine, reading and just generally being lazy. Just what we needed after such a hectic few days of "activity". Besides, it's not as if we have the pennies left to do anything exciting! I still refuse to like the rest of Auckland though, it's just so uninspiring, a city built on functionality with no concern for aesthetics, a city where lovely waterfront restaurants stand side-by-side with huge container units. We were definitely pleased to head north to the Bay of Islands the next day.
Paihia, Bay of Islands (6-8 April 2010)
Paihia is a charming little seaside town situated in the Bay of Islands, right at the northern tip of New Zealand. We passed a couple of days here doing not much at all really other than sleeping in, sunbathing, walking along the beautiful coastline looking out at the little forested islands bobbing in the bay and relaxing in the hostel hot tub. Idyllic. The perfect precursor to two weeks of island hopping in Fiji.
Auckland (9-10 April 2010)
Back to Auckland on Thursday evening in time for our free Kiwi Experience day trip the following morning. We were collected at the entirely acceptable hour of 10.15am and taken out to the Harbour Bridge where we put on little harnesses and trekked out under the traffic to watch the bungy jumping.
After enough people had flung themselves from the bridge, we headed north out of the city to Devonport, one of Auckland's oldest suburbs. Here, we had lunch - fish and chips served not on plates, but appealingly on a huge tablecloth of newspaper. Tried hoki for the first time, a delicious white fish with meaty flakes and a delicate flavour. I must admit that I missed the British classic of mushy peas though.
We then headed up the ancient volcano Mount Victoria for panoramic views of the city and surrounding gulf. This distance did much for the city's appearance and it turns out I quite like Auckland when viewed from afar! We arrived back into the city centre mid-afternoon and walked straight to Albert Park. And so I spent my last afternoon in New Zealand sitting in my favourite spot in Auckland, despising the city a little less, writing my blog and reflecting over my time here. It really is the incredible country I was hoping for - a real land of opportunity, where you can do everything from hiking up a glacier and trekking through a volcanic national park, to jumping out of a plane and white water rafting, to sunbathing and surfing. I'll definitely be back. But for now, it's on to the next, and final, stage of our adventure. Fiji.
New Zealand: North Island
Leg Four: Wellington to Auckland (28 March - 09 April 2010)
Wellington (28-31 March 2010)
Wellington came at just the right time, winning me round despite my determination to be bored of towns and cities. Not even the fact that our first day there was officially the most stressful of the trip so far could put me off this compact capital. Waking up with the threat of a hangover after a night drinking in the hostel bar and along Courtenay Place and wishing desperately that the hostel had invested in double glazing, it was possibly the worst time to discover that my phone was broken, having seemingly decided to adopt its own screening method and only accept certain text messages. However this was just crisis number one. I later tried to make a transfer from my current account over the phone only to hear the dreaded words "I'm sorry, that's actually been declined". Rang the fraud team who promptly transferred me to customer services which is where the frustration which normally accompanies any interaction with your bank began. A automated voice asked me to enter various details ending with my telephone banking pin. I don't have one. Naively, I pressed the button for "further assistance" only to be asked to "enter the four digit pin I selected for my telephone banking account". Clearly, the automated lady had failed to grasp that it was not my unfamiliarity with the term pin number that was troubling me. Having no alternative, I just entered anything in a desperate attempt to get through to an actual human. I shouldn't have bothered. The automated lady informed me again in her monotonous drawl that she had been unable to identify me correctly and as punishment I was put through to a human being who clearly thought that answering the phone to me was as irksome to him as finding some dog poo on his new designer shoes. I was unceremoniously advised that since I had entered the wrong pin, my account was now blocked. I went for what I hoped to be a reasonable response, explaining that I didn't have a pin. He replied that they had sent me a form which hadn't been returned. Trying to remain calm, I explained that since I was in New Zealand it would have been tricky for me to return said form. Clearly this was too difficult a puzzle for his one brain cell to tackle so I was simply informed that my account was now blocked anyway, nothing could be done until 8am and that I should ring back then. Therefore, my first day in Wellington was spent forming a plan of attack for operation "how to get money when your bank is being impossibly difficult". However, it turns out this was all in vain - when I rang back several hours later, I was informed by a chirpy young girl that it was only my telephone banking account that was blocked, not my current account. I had been able to access my money all along. This was delivered in a nonchalant tone as though I hadn't been running around all day worrying that I would never see my money again and would end up selling the entire contents of my rucksack just to pay for the flight home. So it was that poo shoe boy ruined my first day in Wellington.
I am pleased to say though that the next day was a roaring success. Spent the afternoon in the Te Papa Museum. Ordinarily, I wouldn't be one to rave about a museum but this one is an absolute gem with its inventive and intriguing exhibits and, best of all, it's free (believe me, every penny is starting to count). We saw the only colossal squid on public display in the world which was impressive simply because it has earned this title but, in my opinion, should be ten times bigger is its going to prefix its name with the term "colossal". We also crawled inside a plastic replica of a blue whale heart and took part in an earthquake simulation - in short, we made a beeline for all exhibits aimed at children!
We followed this with an afternoon relaxing in the rolling hills of the Botanic Gardens, the highest point in the city, where we soaked up the peace and quiet and the spectacular views out over the city before taking the cable car back down to the bustling centre. From here, we reluctantly headed back to the hostel from hell where the keys lock you out when you go to the toilet in the middle of the night, the lifts smell of old milk, the kitchen has just two working hobs and fridges resembling a game of cool bag jenga, and the internet crashes just as you're sending your email.
Lake Taupo (31 March - 2 April 2010)
Day one
Unfortunately, I can't say I saw much of Lake Taupo, unless you count the incredible birds-eye view I got of Australasia's biggest lake as I fell through the sky. Oh yes, I did a skydive! It was amazing, unlike anything I've ever done before which is hardly surprising since I don't make a habit of flinging myself out of planes at 12000 feet. We've been umm-ing and ahh-ing about whether we could afford to do it throughout the whole trip and kept reaching the decision to "wait and see how funds are looking when we get to Taupo". Then suddenly, we were on the bus to Taupo and writing our names on a clipboard to jump that afternoon!
We got picked up from Wellington early and made a quick stop in Bulls, a novel little town where the establishments have signs punning on its name - hence the police station is where you will find the "consta-bull". Then we pushed on to get to Taupo before the weather - which was apparently perfect for skydiving - turned. I didn't feel nervous like I expected; I think the adrenaline was going. Even when the plane took off with us packed in like sardines, I just chuckled and said "no going back now". It was only when I had my feet dangling out of the plane that I thought "oh god, I'm really doing this". I had my tandem master in my ear shouting "arch like a banana" and all I could think was "just get on with it and jump, will you - if I arch my back anymore I'll resemble a folding deck chair" shortly followed by "where is my little tub of vaseline when I need it". Turns out you don't know squat about chapped lips until you've done a skydive. My mouth was so dry I felt like I'd swallowed a sack of flour. In hindsight, this was probably largely to do with the fact that my face resembled a balloon mid-inflation (so glad I got the DVD, if only for the entertainment of everyone at home). The rush was incredible though, complete sensory overload as you tumble out of the plane and start your 45 seconds of freefall, plummeting towards the ground with the wind in your face. Then just as suddenly you feel a sharp tug and you're pulled upwards as the parachute goes up. After that, it's a leisurely three minutes of floating down, taking in the 360 degree views. It's simply amazing, so quiet and peaceful. We were on such a high afterwards, not even the fact that we had to be up at 5am for the Tongariro Crossing could bring us back down the earth.
Day Two
Tongariro Crossing - aka a day in the life of Frodo Baggins
Tongariro National Park was used as a filming location for Mordor and Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and its 16km alpine crossing is considered to be the best one day hike in New Zealand and one of the top ten in the world. It's easy to see why. It's an ever-changing landscape, a vast desert of black lava rock and scree, blasted craters, scorched volcanoes, lava flows and geothermal lakes. Similar to how I imagine Mars.
We started the hike at 7.45am (the 5am get-up wasn't as painful as expected - worryingly my body seems to be adjusting the sleep deprivation) following a rocky track and watching the sun come up, burning away the stubborn clouds for our first glimpse of Mount Doom looming in the distance. We soon reached the devil's staircase, a steep 5km climb up to the base of Mount Ngauruhoe, 2500 years old and New Zealand's most active volcano. From here, we crossed the barren south crater and began the steep rocky climb up to the red crater, the summit of our hike at 1886m above sea level. This ascent was more rough and ready, along a ridge with no stairs, just unsteady rocks and rubble. Worth it though for the incredible view at the top, real Lord of the Rings territory for miles around. Afterwards, it was scree-sliding through the dust down the other side of this vividly red crater to the aqua blue and highly sulphurous Emerald Lakes where we stopped to photograph the geothermal steam. Next came the perfectly tranquil Blue Lake after which our alpine surroundings gradually grew greener and we descended into native forest. After six hours of trekking (two hours less than the time recommended to complete the hike, I'll have you know) we emerged from the trees into the busy car park singing old motown hits at the top of our lungs, hopped onto a bus and headed back to Taupo to celebrate our achievement with a classy combination of spaghetti carbonara and cider.
Rotorua (2-4 April 2010)
Day One
Having had both air- and ground-based adventures over the past couple of days, it was now time to take our adventurous selves to the water - white water rafting through the grade five rapids of the Kaituna River. Arrived in Rotorua, the town famous for its wealth of geothermal activity and resulting distinctive smell, early in the morning and headed out for rafting that same afternoon. We started with a 2.5m waterfall, toppling over a 1.0m drop almost immediately afterwards. Then came the big one - 7.0m high! We landed the right way up, a tribute to our faultless rafting skills of course. However, we did go completely under, forced down by the sheer power of the waterfall. It's such a buzz - clinging on for dear life, feeling the raft fly off the edge, hearing the water thundering down, realising you're under the water then popping up suddenly in a calm lagoon. Loved every minute. Before I knew it, it was all over though and I was "rapid surfing" - sat at the front of the raft, face down in the freezing cold water while the back end of the raft stuck straight up in the air.
Got back to the hostel late afternoon with no time to rest - we had a Maori cultural experience to get to. Headed out of the town a few kilometres to Tamaki village, a replica of a traditional Maori village from the 1600s, for the Journey of the Cultural Ages Experience. It was a fantastic evening; we had to nominate someone from our group to act as chief. He was then to face the challenge of the warriors and win us the right to access their village. It was an eerie and impressive ceremony, conducted in a circle of sand before the entrance to the village, three paths constructed from tree trunks and partially concealed by the surrounding forest like an ancient fortress. The warriors came out, challenging the chiefs and showing their weaponry skills, while the women stood on platforms above chanting. We then accepted the proffered fern leaf and proceeded into the village which was fascinating - huts decorated with elaborate carvings, roaring fires and the villagers in traditional Maori dress. After learning about their warrior training methods and food capture and preservation techniques, we proceeded to the concert hall where we watched a concert of beautiful music and the iconic Haka dance. Although I could have stayed all night listening, I felt it could have been more rich in terms of storytelling - I went away wanting to know more. Dinner followed the concert, a delicious Hangi - a meal steamed in the ground over hot rocks. We ate soft carrots, lamb and chicken so tender it fell apart, potatoes with a distinctive smoky flavour, stuffing, gravy and bread. I went back for seconds and would have been tempted for thirds but they brought out dessert: pavlova with fresh fruit salad or steamed pudding and custard. Naturally, I had both. We then learnt how to prepare our own hangi meal, listened to the staff sing one final time and watched a presentation of beautiful carved necklaces to our chiefs before heading back to the hostel. There was something so moving about the whole evening, the pride and ferocity with which these people respect the past and preserve their heritage is not something you see very often. I don't think we have such determination in the UK, but then perhaps that is because our cultural identity has never really been under threat? I guess you don't strive to protect something unless you fear losing it?
Day Two
Waitomo today and black water rafting. Hopped on our bus at 7.15am, greeted by a very friendly driver originally from Southampton who wanted to chat to us a lot more than was appropriate at such an unsociable hour! Arriving at Waitomo, we sat with our guide for half an hour listening dutifully to his dramatic "five near-drowning" stories and promising to try our best not to break a leg because he wanted a quiet day at work. We then wrestled our way into wetsuits designed for borrowers and headed down to the caves. It was brilliant, although despite our guide's dramatic tales, the only real danger I felt was the threat of hypothermia.
We started off walking, ducking the stalactites and stumbling through the rocky shallows. We then jumped backwards over a waterfall - previously described as death-defying but which actually turned out to be no more than a couple of metres high - formed a long chain on our rubber rings and floated idly downriver in the dark, looking up at the ceiling twinkling with the light of thousands of glow worms. To finish, we turned our head torches off and had to navigate our way out in the pitch black (clearly these guides had little regard for health and safety; the tales of "near-drownings" begin to fall into place). Emerging outside, blinking and shivering, we headed back for hot showers, soup and toasted bagels. Just what the doctor ordered. Then, just when we thought things couldn't get any better, we discovered that the clocks go back one hour tonight so we get an extra hour in bed. Jackpot!
I am pleased to say though that the next day was a roaring success. Spent the afternoon in the Te Papa Museum. Ordinarily, I wouldn't be one to rave about a museum but this one is an absolute gem with its inventive and intriguing exhibits and, best of all, it's free (believe me, every penny is starting to count). We saw the only colossal squid on public display in the world which was impressive simply because it has earned this title but, in my opinion, should be ten times bigger is its going to prefix its name with the term "colossal". We also crawled inside a plastic replica of a blue whale heart and took part in an earthquake simulation - in short, we made a beeline for all exhibits aimed at children!
We followed this with an afternoon relaxing in the rolling hills of the Botanic Gardens, the highest point in the city, where we soaked up the peace and quiet and the spectacular views out over the city before taking the cable car back down to the bustling centre. From here, we reluctantly headed back to the hostel from hell where the keys lock you out when you go to the toilet in the middle of the night, the lifts smell of old milk, the kitchen has just two working hobs and fridges resembling a game of cool bag jenga, and the internet crashes just as you're sending your email.
Lake Taupo (31 March - 2 April 2010)
Day one
Unfortunately, I can't say I saw much of Lake Taupo, unless you count the incredible birds-eye view I got of Australasia's biggest lake as I fell through the sky. Oh yes, I did a skydive! It was amazing, unlike anything I've ever done before which is hardly surprising since I don't make a habit of flinging myself out of planes at 12000 feet. We've been umm-ing and ahh-ing about whether we could afford to do it throughout the whole trip and kept reaching the decision to "wait and see how funds are looking when we get to Taupo". Then suddenly, we were on the bus to Taupo and writing our names on a clipboard to jump that afternoon!
We got picked up from Wellington early and made a quick stop in Bulls, a novel little town where the establishments have signs punning on its name - hence the police station is where you will find the "consta-bull". Then we pushed on to get to Taupo before the weather - which was apparently perfect for skydiving - turned. I didn't feel nervous like I expected; I think the adrenaline was going. Even when the plane took off with us packed in like sardines, I just chuckled and said "no going back now". It was only when I had my feet dangling out of the plane that I thought "oh god, I'm really doing this". I had my tandem master in my ear shouting "arch like a banana" and all I could think was "just get on with it and jump, will you - if I arch my back anymore I'll resemble a folding deck chair" shortly followed by "where is my little tub of vaseline when I need it". Turns out you don't know squat about chapped lips until you've done a skydive. My mouth was so dry I felt like I'd swallowed a sack of flour. In hindsight, this was probably largely to do with the fact that my face resembled a balloon mid-inflation (so glad I got the DVD, if only for the entertainment of everyone at home). The rush was incredible though, complete sensory overload as you tumble out of the plane and start your 45 seconds of freefall, plummeting towards the ground with the wind in your face. Then just as suddenly you feel a sharp tug and you're pulled upwards as the parachute goes up. After that, it's a leisurely three minutes of floating down, taking in the 360 degree views. It's simply amazing, so quiet and peaceful. We were on such a high afterwards, not even the fact that we had to be up at 5am for the Tongariro Crossing could bring us back down the earth.
Day Two
Tongariro Crossing - aka a day in the life of Frodo Baggins
Tongariro National Park was used as a filming location for Mordor and Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and its 16km alpine crossing is considered to be the best one day hike in New Zealand and one of the top ten in the world. It's easy to see why. It's an ever-changing landscape, a vast desert of black lava rock and scree, blasted craters, scorched volcanoes, lava flows and geothermal lakes. Similar to how I imagine Mars.
We started the hike at 7.45am (the 5am get-up wasn't as painful as expected - worryingly my body seems to be adjusting the sleep deprivation) following a rocky track and watching the sun come up, burning away the stubborn clouds for our first glimpse of Mount Doom looming in the distance. We soon reached the devil's staircase, a steep 5km climb up to the base of Mount Ngauruhoe, 2500 years old and New Zealand's most active volcano. From here, we crossed the barren south crater and began the steep rocky climb up to the red crater, the summit of our hike at 1886m above sea level. This ascent was more rough and ready, along a ridge with no stairs, just unsteady rocks and rubble. Worth it though for the incredible view at the top, real Lord of the Rings territory for miles around. Afterwards, it was scree-sliding through the dust down the other side of this vividly red crater to the aqua blue and highly sulphurous Emerald Lakes where we stopped to photograph the geothermal steam. Next came the perfectly tranquil Blue Lake after which our alpine surroundings gradually grew greener and we descended into native forest. After six hours of trekking (two hours less than the time recommended to complete the hike, I'll have you know) we emerged from the trees into the busy car park singing old motown hits at the top of our lungs, hopped onto a bus and headed back to Taupo to celebrate our achievement with a classy combination of spaghetti carbonara and cider.
Rotorua (2-4 April 2010)
Day One
Having had both air- and ground-based adventures over the past couple of days, it was now time to take our adventurous selves to the water - white water rafting through the grade five rapids of the Kaituna River. Arrived in Rotorua, the town famous for its wealth of geothermal activity and resulting distinctive smell, early in the morning and headed out for rafting that same afternoon. We started with a 2.5m waterfall, toppling over a 1.0m drop almost immediately afterwards. Then came the big one - 7.0m high! We landed the right way up, a tribute to our faultless rafting skills of course. However, we did go completely under, forced down by the sheer power of the waterfall. It's such a buzz - clinging on for dear life, feeling the raft fly off the edge, hearing the water thundering down, realising you're under the water then popping up suddenly in a calm lagoon. Loved every minute. Before I knew it, it was all over though and I was "rapid surfing" - sat at the front of the raft, face down in the freezing cold water while the back end of the raft stuck straight up in the air.
Got back to the hostel late afternoon with no time to rest - we had a Maori cultural experience to get to. Headed out of the town a few kilometres to Tamaki village, a replica of a traditional Maori village from the 1600s, for the Journey of the Cultural Ages Experience. It was a fantastic evening; we had to nominate someone from our group to act as chief. He was then to face the challenge of the warriors and win us the right to access their village. It was an eerie and impressive ceremony, conducted in a circle of sand before the entrance to the village, three paths constructed from tree trunks and partially concealed by the surrounding forest like an ancient fortress. The warriors came out, challenging the chiefs and showing their weaponry skills, while the women stood on platforms above chanting. We then accepted the proffered fern leaf and proceeded into the village which was fascinating - huts decorated with elaborate carvings, roaring fires and the villagers in traditional Maori dress. After learning about their warrior training methods and food capture and preservation techniques, we proceeded to the concert hall where we watched a concert of beautiful music and the iconic Haka dance. Although I could have stayed all night listening, I felt it could have been more rich in terms of storytelling - I went away wanting to know more. Dinner followed the concert, a delicious Hangi - a meal steamed in the ground over hot rocks. We ate soft carrots, lamb and chicken so tender it fell apart, potatoes with a distinctive smoky flavour, stuffing, gravy and bread. I went back for seconds and would have been tempted for thirds but they brought out dessert: pavlova with fresh fruit salad or steamed pudding and custard. Naturally, I had both. We then learnt how to prepare our own hangi meal, listened to the staff sing one final time and watched a presentation of beautiful carved necklaces to our chiefs before heading back to the hostel. There was something so moving about the whole evening, the pride and ferocity with which these people respect the past and preserve their heritage is not something you see very often. I don't think we have such determination in the UK, but then perhaps that is because our cultural identity has never really been under threat? I guess you don't strive to protect something unless you fear losing it?
Day Two
Waitomo today and black water rafting. Hopped on our bus at 7.15am, greeted by a very friendly driver originally from Southampton who wanted to chat to us a lot more than was appropriate at such an unsociable hour! Arriving at Waitomo, we sat with our guide for half an hour listening dutifully to his dramatic "five near-drowning" stories and promising to try our best not to break a leg because he wanted a quiet day at work. We then wrestled our way into wetsuits designed for borrowers and headed down to the caves. It was brilliant, although despite our guide's dramatic tales, the only real danger I felt was the threat of hypothermia.
We started off walking, ducking the stalactites and stumbling through the rocky shallows. We then jumped backwards over a waterfall - previously described as death-defying but which actually turned out to be no more than a couple of metres high - formed a long chain on our rubber rings and floated idly downriver in the dark, looking up at the ceiling twinkling with the light of thousands of glow worms. To finish, we turned our head torches off and had to navigate our way out in the pitch black (clearly these guides had little regard for health and safety; the tales of "near-drownings" begin to fall into place). Emerging outside, blinking and shivering, we headed back for hot showers, soup and toasted bagels. Just what the doctor ordered. Then, just when we thought things couldn't get any better, we discovered that the clocks go back one hour tonight so we get an extra hour in bed. Jackpot!
Sunday, 4 April 2010
New Zealand: South Island
Leg Three: Queenstown back to Kaikoura (26-28 March 2010)
Our return to a life of 'bus-ing' around the south island began again abruptly at 6.45am and we were eased back in by a day-long stint to Christchurch, with brief stops at Cromwell - the town furthest from the sea in New Zealand - and Lake Pukaiki where we attempted to get photos of Mount Cook (aka the cloud piercer) but failed because, ironically, it was obscured by cloud. Our final stop was a very quick lunch break in Geraldine, a nondescript town whose only claim to fame is being the location for the knitting of the world's biggest cardigan. I say no more. The fact that it was the best weather we have seen since arriving in New Zealand only served to heighten my disgruntlement. Think I am starting to get cabin fever from being on this bus, starting to feel its restrictions. Every five minutes, I want to call the great lumbering vehicle to a standstill, hop off and go exploring. There seems to be so much more to this country than the location for the knitting of the world's greatest cardigan and I desperately want to experience it...frankly all these towns and cities are becoming something of a hindrance to this ideal. There is something so liberating about a country in which you can be so far from civisilation, it seems to me to be a rare luxury in today's world. I think I can safely say this will not be my only trip to New Zealand and that next time, I will go it alone! Nothing for it now though but to accept my fate as a prisoner of the Kiwi Experience bus, hope for better things in the north island and head into Christchurch to spend the afternoon in the admittedly beautiful Botanic Gardens.
Our second stop in Kaikoura the next night was no more eventful than the first and we were therefore happy to be on the bus again in the morning (for once) and heading back to
Picton where this time we boarded a ferry and headed over the high seas with high hopes for the north island...
New Zealand: South Island
Leg Two: Nelson to Queenstown (17-25 March 2010)
17 March 2010
Managed to bag the last two seats on the bus heading south, disgruntled to be sacrificing our Abel Tasman hike but relieved to still have enough time to fit in both islands. Our first stop of the day was glacial Lake Rotoiti, nestled at the northernmost tip of the Southern Alps amidst dark beech forest. Despite the shining sun, the icy wind made swimming an unwelcome prospect - those who did brave a jump off the jetty quickly made their exits - so we just soaked up the tranquil setting, trying very hard not to let a demanding troop of hungry ducks spoil it!
The afternoon was spent driving to Westport through mountains carpeted in lush green forest and occasionally interrupted by winding gorges channelling turqoise waters over the pale grey rocks towards the sea. In true St Patrick's Day style, we then passed the evening in the only pub open in the small town, drinking cheap beer, listening to the irish band and making laughable attempts to perfect an irish jig.
18 March 2010
Started the day with a walk at Cape Foulwind, Westport's coastline, so named by Captain Cook who struggled to land there due to bad weather in March 1770. Our next stop en route to Lake Mahinapua was Punakaiki where we walked to the pancake rocks - stratified limestone eroded to resemble stacks of pancakes - and became addicted to watching the blowhole! Lastly, we stopped at Greymouth to purchase our fancy dress outfits for the "poo party" that evening. The poo party is an infamous event on the Kiwi Experience bus circuit where people dress up like idiots and drink copious amounts of alcohol in the bar of Hotel Mahinapua, a musty room with caps hanging from the ceiling and the history of the "poo party" adorning the walls in the form of polaroid photos.
We arrived at the hotel with just enough time to wander down to the lake before dinner - it was actually the perfect time to see it, with dusk falling over the calm dark waters and the empty jetty stretching out towards the surrounding forest.
Headed back for a delicious dinner of rare steak and venison stew before getting ready for our themed party. We were given the infuriatingly broad theme of "are you really wearing that?" and a restrictive budget of $2. In the end, in addition to Roz's dress fashioned out of a binbag and various gift-wrapping products and my pillowcase cape and head torch, we had a human pass the parcel, a shopping bag, a scuba diver and someone simply wearing their own rucksack (obviously they decided to put the $2 towards their beer fund instead)!
19-21 March 2010
Next on the agenda was a day hiking up the Franz Josef glacier. After all, it's not every day you get to say you have trekked up the fastest moving glacier in New Zealand, is it? Advancing four feet a day on average, this vast river of ice was actually moving while we standing on it! The only sacrifice we had to make for this incredible experience was to the world of fashion: kitted out in thigh-skimming kagouls, boots a biker would be proud of, waterproof trousers and bumbags so big we could probably use them as sleeping bags, we were hardly candidates for London Fashion Week. It was worth it though when we got to don our cramp-ons (fearsome-looking metal shoe spiders is the best description I can muster) and clamber our way onto this vast frozen river where what appears to be flat, if uneven, terrain from afar suddenly transforms into huge cliffs and tunnels of sculpted ice, glistening in the sun and speckled with dirt. I felt like a true adventurer. Our friendly guide Alex led the way, bounding along with a pickaxe slung carelessly over his shoulder which he used to carve steps through this ever-changing labyrinth of ice. It was not unlike following one of Snow White's seven dwarves and it was all I could do not to start up a rendition of Whistle While you Work.
Shortly after lunch, during which we huddled together like penguins to keep warm, Alex discovered an unexplored thirty metre-long ice cave. It was too small in places to go allow us to get from one end to the other but we managed to get about a third of the way in where the cave opened up below a perfectly round natural skylight, nothing but swirls of blue and the sky heavy with rain beyond.
That night, we rewarded our hard work with a visit to to the local hot pools, situated in the middle of the forest and fed by water from the glacier - the perfect antidote for our soon-to-be-protesting muscles. This relaxation was not to last unfortunately - we spent the rest of the evening drying our rucksacks with a hairdryer in preparation for yet another early departure the next morning.
21-22 March 2010
Left Franz Josef and headed south to Wanaka, stopping at Lake Matheson where the rain eased enough for us to get some photos of the still lake mirroring the surrounding forest and the snow-capped peaks of Mount Cook and Mount Tasman. Spent the night in Wanaka where the most interesting that happened was that I bagged a free hotdog from a Christian outreach group (sorry still not converted)!
On our way out of Wanaka the next morning (early as usual), we visited Puzzling World, a curious establishment which is apparently home to the world's first 3D maze (didn't know there was any other kind to be honest). The illusion rooms were well worth a look though with attractions including the tilted house where water appears to run uphill and the Ames Forced Perspective Room which solves the mystery of how Elijah Wood was cut down to hobbit size for the Lord of the Rings films.
22-26 March 2010
Three days of doing not much at all passed shamefully quickly in Queenstown - I think the most energetic thing we did was pick up a microphone for a very sketchy rendition of Ben.E.King's Stand by Me at the hostel's karaoke night.
Queenstown is a great place though, not unlike a buzzing ski resort. Frankly, I was just relieved to be in one place for more than 24 hours, all this hopping on and off buses is starting to make me dizzy. Being confined to it for long periods of time does have the plus point of enforced bonding with your group though so it was never a quiet night while we were here!
We finally had a famous Ferg Burger too. Every mention of our coming to New Zealand so far on this trip has been met with "then you simply must have a Ferg Burger in Queenstown" (not that everyone we met was a toffe-nosed posh twit but you get the gist)! To meet our expectations, this burger would have to be taller than me and served on a silver platter. In the event, it was of normal burger size and served in a paper bag. I don't deny it was delicious...just maybe not quite tall enough...
17 March 2010
Managed to bag the last two seats on the bus heading south, disgruntled to be sacrificing our Abel Tasman hike but relieved to still have enough time to fit in both islands. Our first stop of the day was glacial Lake Rotoiti, nestled at the northernmost tip of the Southern Alps amidst dark beech forest. Despite the shining sun, the icy wind made swimming an unwelcome prospect - those who did brave a jump off the jetty quickly made their exits - so we just soaked up the tranquil setting, trying very hard not to let a demanding troop of hungry ducks spoil it!
The afternoon was spent driving to Westport through mountains carpeted in lush green forest and occasionally interrupted by winding gorges channelling turqoise waters over the pale grey rocks towards the sea. In true St Patrick's Day style, we then passed the evening in the only pub open in the small town, drinking cheap beer, listening to the irish band and making laughable attempts to perfect an irish jig.
18 March 2010
Started the day with a walk at Cape Foulwind, Westport's coastline, so named by Captain Cook who struggled to land there due to bad weather in March 1770. Our next stop en route to Lake Mahinapua was Punakaiki where we walked to the pancake rocks - stratified limestone eroded to resemble stacks of pancakes - and became addicted to watching the blowhole! Lastly, we stopped at Greymouth to purchase our fancy dress outfits for the "poo party" that evening. The poo party is an infamous event on the Kiwi Experience bus circuit where people dress up like idiots and drink copious amounts of alcohol in the bar of Hotel Mahinapua, a musty room with caps hanging from the ceiling and the history of the "poo party" adorning the walls in the form of polaroid photos.
We arrived at the hotel with just enough time to wander down to the lake before dinner - it was actually the perfect time to see it, with dusk falling over the calm dark waters and the empty jetty stretching out towards the surrounding forest.
Headed back for a delicious dinner of rare steak and venison stew before getting ready for our themed party. We were given the infuriatingly broad theme of "are you really wearing that?" and a restrictive budget of $2. In the end, in addition to Roz's dress fashioned out of a binbag and various gift-wrapping products and my pillowcase cape and head torch, we had a human pass the parcel, a shopping bag, a scuba diver and someone simply wearing their own rucksack (obviously they decided to put the $2 towards their beer fund instead)!
19-21 March 2010
Next on the agenda was a day hiking up the Franz Josef glacier. After all, it's not every day you get to say you have trekked up the fastest moving glacier in New Zealand, is it? Advancing four feet a day on average, this vast river of ice was actually moving while we standing on it! The only sacrifice we had to make for this incredible experience was to the world of fashion: kitted out in thigh-skimming kagouls, boots a biker would be proud of, waterproof trousers and bumbags so big we could probably use them as sleeping bags, we were hardly candidates for London Fashion Week. It was worth it though when we got to don our cramp-ons (fearsome-looking metal shoe spiders is the best description I can muster) and clamber our way onto this vast frozen river where what appears to be flat, if uneven, terrain from afar suddenly transforms into huge cliffs and tunnels of sculpted ice, glistening in the sun and speckled with dirt. I felt like a true adventurer. Our friendly guide Alex led the way, bounding along with a pickaxe slung carelessly over his shoulder which he used to carve steps through this ever-changing labyrinth of ice. It was not unlike following one of Snow White's seven dwarves and it was all I could do not to start up a rendition of Whistle While you Work.
Shortly after lunch, during which we huddled together like penguins to keep warm, Alex discovered an unexplored thirty metre-long ice cave. It was too small in places to go allow us to get from one end to the other but we managed to get about a third of the way in where the cave opened up below a perfectly round natural skylight, nothing but swirls of blue and the sky heavy with rain beyond.
That night, we rewarded our hard work with a visit to to the local hot pools, situated in the middle of the forest and fed by water from the glacier - the perfect antidote for our soon-to-be-protesting muscles. This relaxation was not to last unfortunately - we spent the rest of the evening drying our rucksacks with a hairdryer in preparation for yet another early departure the next morning.
21-22 March 2010
Left Franz Josef and headed south to Wanaka, stopping at Lake Matheson where the rain eased enough for us to get some photos of the still lake mirroring the surrounding forest and the snow-capped peaks of Mount Cook and Mount Tasman. Spent the night in Wanaka where the most interesting that happened was that I bagged a free hotdog from a Christian outreach group (sorry still not converted)!
On our way out of Wanaka the next morning (early as usual), we visited Puzzling World, a curious establishment which is apparently home to the world's first 3D maze (didn't know there was any other kind to be honest). The illusion rooms were well worth a look though with attractions including the tilted house where water appears to run uphill and the Ames Forced Perspective Room which solves the mystery of how Elijah Wood was cut down to hobbit size for the Lord of the Rings films.
22-26 March 2010
Three days of doing not much at all passed shamefully quickly in Queenstown - I think the most energetic thing we did was pick up a microphone for a very sketchy rendition of Ben.E.King's Stand by Me at the hostel's karaoke night.
Queenstown is a great place though, not unlike a buzzing ski resort. Frankly, I was just relieved to be in one place for more than 24 hours, all this hopping on and off buses is starting to make me dizzy. Being confined to it for long periods of time does have the plus point of enforced bonding with your group though so it was never a quiet night while we were here!
We finally had a famous Ferg Burger too. Every mention of our coming to New Zealand so far on this trip has been met with "then you simply must have a Ferg Burger in Queenstown" (not that everyone we met was a toffe-nosed posh twit but you get the gist)! To meet our expectations, this burger would have to be taller than me and served on a silver platter. In the event, it was of normal burger size and served in a paper bag. I don't deny it was delicious...just maybe not quite tall enough...
New Zealand: South Island
Leg One: Christchurch to Nelson (13-16 March 2010)
13 March 2010
Arriving into Christchurch at around 3pm having had only four hours of sleep and after spending over an hour battling our way through customs, we emerged into the semi-sunshine struggling to get excited about New Zealand. This all changed though when we hopped onto the city flyer and were greeted to the country by the world's friendliest bus driver. Informative, helpful and smiley, he actually waited for new passengers to sit down before pulling away. Revolutionary. Back home, in my experience, you're lucky if you even get two feet on the bus before the driver swerves back into the road, slams his foot onto the accelerator with the same zeal you would apply to stamping on a cockroach and catapults you into your fellow passengers.
Arrived at the hostel, dumped our bags and showered before venturing out in search of somewhere cheap to fill our rumbling stomachs. Christchurch is a very attractive city. It has a very European feel to it, from Cathedral Square with its namesake building holding pride of place and the trams passing silently through, to Oxford Terrace, a cobbled street along the riverfront lined with upmarket restaurants, pavement cafes and trendy wine bars. Luckily, we were in time to catch a restaurant doing an early bird special - I ordered creamy pesto pasta and upon its arrival realised immediately why the price was so inviting. After all, you could hardly charge more than $12 for 12 pieces of penne, could you? It is therefore the fault of this restaurant that we spent our first evening in Christchurch sitting on a bench in Cathedral Square eating the biggest raspberry and white chocolate muffins the world has ever seen.
15 March 2010
Knowing that we would return to Christchurch later on with the Kiwi Experience bus, we allowed ourselves a day of "sorting" on our first proper day in New Zealand. However, the next morning, we were boarding the bus eager to see if the country would live up to expectations. She didn't disappoint us - so fresh and untouched. We headed north over the Canterbury Plains, taking in the rolling hills, the pale golden mountains and the dense forest. I can see why people liken it to an unspoiled England.
We arrived in Kaikoura at lunchtime and set out in the sunshine for a look around. The sun soon disappeared but this didn't matter since there really isn't much to see unless you are swimming with dolphins or going whale watching. Since the former didn't appeal and we were out of season for the latter, we just had a walk along the coast and a look around the town (a term I use loosely since it consists of no more than fifteen buildings) which is nestled between the sea and the 2600m high mountains rising steeply out of it. We then headed back to the hostel as the rains closed in and gratefully found the TV room where we spent the remainder of our evening.
16 March 2010
We set out early and headed north out of Kaikoura, with the road hugging the rugged coastline and the mountains sweeping up majestically to our left. We stopped a short distance from town to watch the seals sunning themselves lazily on the rocks and the pups slipping and sliding clumsily over them and splashing playfully in the rock pools.
After that, it was a quick stop in Picton to collect people arriving from the north island and another painful couple of hours on a bus with no air-con before we pulled into Nelson, gateway to the Abel Tasman National Park and officially New Zealand's sunniest city. The sun was not shining on us though it would seem. We had originally planned to spend a couple of nights here to enable us to do a day hike through the national park. However, we arrived to the unpleasant news that we were on a waiting list to leave on the Thursday and that, if we were unable to get on that bus, we might be stuck in Nelson until as late as Sunday. With just four weeks to do both island, we couldn't afford such a setback to our schedule, leaving us with no option but to book ourselves onto the (shorter) waiting list for the bus leaving the next morning and hope for the best. Consequently, we had to abandon our plan to hike through the national park and settle instead for a short meander up to the geographical centre of New Zealand which affords incredible views of the park, the city below and the glittering turqoise bay beyond.
Arriving back at the hostel, we decided to drown our sorrows with their local beer tasting during which we met lots of great people travelling south the next day. As a result, we went to bed feeling all was not lost and with our fingers crossed that we would make it onto that bus...
13 March 2010
Arriving into Christchurch at around 3pm having had only four hours of sleep and after spending over an hour battling our way through customs, we emerged into the semi-sunshine struggling to get excited about New Zealand. This all changed though when we hopped onto the city flyer and were greeted to the country by the world's friendliest bus driver. Informative, helpful and smiley, he actually waited for new passengers to sit down before pulling away. Revolutionary. Back home, in my experience, you're lucky if you even get two feet on the bus before the driver swerves back into the road, slams his foot onto the accelerator with the same zeal you would apply to stamping on a cockroach and catapults you into your fellow passengers.
Arrived at the hostel, dumped our bags and showered before venturing out in search of somewhere cheap to fill our rumbling stomachs. Christchurch is a very attractive city. It has a very European feel to it, from Cathedral Square with its namesake building holding pride of place and the trams passing silently through, to Oxford Terrace, a cobbled street along the riverfront lined with upmarket restaurants, pavement cafes and trendy wine bars. Luckily, we were in time to catch a restaurant doing an early bird special - I ordered creamy pesto pasta and upon its arrival realised immediately why the price was so inviting. After all, you could hardly charge more than $12 for 12 pieces of penne, could you? It is therefore the fault of this restaurant that we spent our first evening in Christchurch sitting on a bench in Cathedral Square eating the biggest raspberry and white chocolate muffins the world has ever seen.
15 March 2010
Knowing that we would return to Christchurch later on with the Kiwi Experience bus, we allowed ourselves a day of "sorting" on our first proper day in New Zealand. However, the next morning, we were boarding the bus eager to see if the country would live up to expectations. She didn't disappoint us - so fresh and untouched. We headed north over the Canterbury Plains, taking in the rolling hills, the pale golden mountains and the dense forest. I can see why people liken it to an unspoiled England.
We arrived in Kaikoura at lunchtime and set out in the sunshine for a look around. The sun soon disappeared but this didn't matter since there really isn't much to see unless you are swimming with dolphins or going whale watching. Since the former didn't appeal and we were out of season for the latter, we just had a walk along the coast and a look around the town (a term I use loosely since it consists of no more than fifteen buildings) which is nestled between the sea and the 2600m high mountains rising steeply out of it. We then headed back to the hostel as the rains closed in and gratefully found the TV room where we spent the remainder of our evening.
16 March 2010
We set out early and headed north out of Kaikoura, with the road hugging the rugged coastline and the mountains sweeping up majestically to our left. We stopped a short distance from town to watch the seals sunning themselves lazily on the rocks and the pups slipping and sliding clumsily over them and splashing playfully in the rock pools.
After that, it was a quick stop in Picton to collect people arriving from the north island and another painful couple of hours on a bus with no air-con before we pulled into Nelson, gateway to the Abel Tasman National Park and officially New Zealand's sunniest city. The sun was not shining on us though it would seem. We had originally planned to spend a couple of nights here to enable us to do a day hike through the national park. However, we arrived to the unpleasant news that we were on a waiting list to leave on the Thursday and that, if we were unable to get on that bus, we might be stuck in Nelson until as late as Sunday. With just four weeks to do both island, we couldn't afford such a setback to our schedule, leaving us with no option but to book ourselves onto the (shorter) waiting list for the bus leaving the next morning and hope for the best. Consequently, we had to abandon our plan to hike through the national park and settle instead for a short meander up to the geographical centre of New Zealand which affords incredible views of the park, the city below and the glittering turqoise bay beyond.
Arriving back at the hostel, we decided to drown our sorrows with their local beer tasting during which we met lots of great people travelling south the next day. As a result, we went to bed feeling all was not lost and with our fingers crossed that we would make it onto that bus...
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Sydney
9-12 March 2010
Day One
It was late afternoon when we drove into Sydney across the iconic Harbour Bridge and the city certainly ensured she was at her best for us. The glistening harbour, the lush green of the Botanic Gardens and the sunlight reflecting off the imposing skyscrapers and opera house - everything welcomed us to our final destination on the east coast.
We spent out first evening at Gaff, a bar run by former Oz Experience drivers, where we got fish and chips, an all-you-can-eat salad bar and three drinks for just $5. Finished the night off sitting in an irish bar listening to live music. Great start for Sydney.
Day Two
Struck out early determined to tick off the Sydney sights. Started at Circular Quay and ambled along the waterfront taking in the bronze plaques of Writers' Walk, powerful and evocative quotations from various literary masters documenting their impressions of and experiences in Australia. From there we made our way to the nearby - and FREE - Rocks Museum via Cadman's Cottage, the oldest private house still standing in Sydney. The Rocks Museum was an informative and brilliantly presented little exhibition on this notorious Sydney district, depicting the lives of both the Cadigal (Sydney's original inhabitants) and the first european settlers. I found it fascinating to finally get a sense of Australia's history - nowhere else we have stopped along the east coast has seemed aware of or particularly shaped by either its aboriginal origins or its colonial past. However, it was also sad to think that the greed and ignorance of Europe allowed us, or rather compelled us, to impose ourselves upon and ultimately wipe out the indigenous population - the majority of the Cadigal died of suspected smallpox shortly after the first settlements were established. It's depressing that we felt the need to "claim" and exploit faraway land rather than just discover it, destroying everything that stood in the way of our grand scheme for progress.
From the museum we walked across the Harbour Bridge for some good views of the opera house but these were marred somewhat by persistent heavy cloud. We then headed off in pursuit of a closer look, passing through the Rocks - the heart of historic Sydney - and stopping to look at some of the city's oldest buildings which have been sympathetically renovated and preserved, including the old customs house where a union jack flag always flies to mark the spot where the English first settled.
That evening, worn out from our day of dedicated sightseeing, we did nothing more than head to Gaff for our cheap dinner (chicken curry this time) and pack our rucksacks for the Blue Mountains trip the next day. When a 6am wake up call is in the pipeline, I find it pays to be prepared!
Day Three
Got picked up bright and early by our friendly guide Jimmy and headed out to the Blue Mountains National Park, all 10300 square kilometres of it. Out first stop was Euroka where we watched wild eastern grey kangaroos, the second largest kangaroo in Australia, feeding and saw a little joey poke its head out of the pouch for the very first time.
Afterwards, we had a short stop in Glenbrook, where Jimmy pointed out remnants of a bush fire which swept through the area on Christmas day a couple of years ago - some people were forced to evacuate and, after the fire, found that they had no home to go back to. I can't even begin to imagine that sort of devastation. We lead such a sheltered existence in the UK where the only real threats we face are those we pose to ourselves and each other; we know nothing of the cruelty of nature. We are distanced from so many natural disasters - no earthquakes, bushfires, hurricanes - and have no known predators left. I can't imagine living in a country where humans are not top of the food chain, a country where a swim in the sea might involve a shark attack or a jellyfish wrapping itself around your leg, where a paddle in a river might culminate in a wrestle with a crocodile, or where striking out into the woods might result in a bite from a poisonous snake.
Leaving Glenbrook, we headed deeper into the national park. It really is beautiful: lush green valleys hemmed in by sandstone cliffs scuplted by erosion and the colour of rust from their exposure to the air - all with the blue haze of eucalyptus oil lingering above. Next on the agenda was the Furber Steps walk, a walk down into the Jamison Valley involving 1000 steps. Here we caught our first glimpse of the three sisters and heard the aborginal story of how they came into being...
There was a magic man named Tayan; he could make anything with his special kangaroo foot bone. He had three daughters and, when he went hunting in the Jamison Valley, he would leave them on the clifftop so they were safe from the Bunyip (a yeti-like creature). One day, they were sitting there and one of the sisters spotted a grub on a rock nearby. She threw a small stone but it fell into the valley, hitting the Bunyip and waking him up. He looked up, saw the sisters and began to climb up to get them. As he did so, a crack appeared in the cliff, blocking the daughters' escape route and trapping them at the edge of the cliff. Frightened, they called out to their father who tried to use his magic foot bone but realised it did not work against the Bunyip. With time runing out to save his daughters, he pointed his magic bone and turned all three into rocks so that they Bunyip could not get them. Seeing this, the enraged Bunyip began to chase Tayan through the valley. The magic man soon found himself trapped in a corner with only a small hole to escape through; this time, he turned to bone on himself, transforming himself into a lyre bird and squeezing through the gap. Once the Bunyip had gone, the lyre bird came out to turn himself back into a man but realised that he had dropped his bone. The story goes that he was unable to find it and to this day the lyre bird spends its time scratching in the dirt to find the bone, transform itself back into Tayan and finally bring his daughters back to life.
Once at the bottom of the valley, we took the world's steepest train back to the top. The Jamison Valley used to be a major mining area and this railway, on a 50 degree incline, was orginally built to transport coal from the mine to the top of the cliff face. When the last mine was closed in the 1950s, it turned into a tourist service. It was great, much more exciting than the peak tram, with the seats facing backwards so you could see the valley bottom getting further and further away during the ascent.
Our next stop was Echo Point for a closer look at the three sisters, followed by a lunch of steak pies which were delicious but could have been twice as big! After lunch came the most strenuous part of our day: the Wentworth Falls bush walk. A round trip into the valley comprising 900 steep steps - we were hot and exhausted by the time we returned to the top but it was worth it to see the largest waterfall in the Blue Mountains.
The final stop of the day was Swiss Rock, a beautiful lookout with an intriguing story behind it. During the war, the German population of Australia was sent to POW camps. There was apparently a German couple running a shop in nearby Katoomba, both of whom were greatly valued by the local community. Instead of giving the couple up to the authorities, the locals decided to hide them in a cave below Swiss Rock and this alleged hiding place still remains today.
Arriving back in Sydney, we rushed around the corner to the Capitol Theatre where we had seen advertisements for the musical Wicked. By some stroke of luck, we arrived just minutes before their Wicked lottery - participants put their name in a box and those drawn out win front row seats worth more than $100 for just $30! Unfortunately, we had to stand there looking like children who have had their sweets confiscated while everyone elses name was drawn out and ours remained steadfastly in the box. Leaving the scene of our disappointment promptly, we wandered down to the harbour and wacthed darkness creep in, the opera house and the harbour bridge light up, and the world pass us by. A very relaxed and contented end to a great day after all.
Day Four
What a perfect day to end our time in Australia - literally every last little thing went to plan. We awoke to bright sunshine (at last!) and, feeling very glad to have left our beach hopping until the last day, we donned our bikinis and headed down to Darling Harbour. Caught the ferry around to Circular Quay and enjoyed spectacular views of the harbour bridge, the opera house and the Sydney skyline against a mercifully blue sky. Got to Circular Quay just in the nick of time for the next ferry to Manly Island, which is pleasant but more developed than I anticipated. I was expecting quaint buildings, untouched beaches and beautiful scenery, not a high street that wouldn't be out of place in any of the towns we've stayed in. Ate lunch in a pavement cafe - fish, chips, calamari and salad - relaxed on the beach soaking up the sun for an hour, then caught the ferry back over to the mainland. From there, it was a bus to Bondi Beach wherer we treated ourselves to an ine cream, watched some of the surf competition and tried not to let the wind make off with all our belongings.
Day One
It was late afternoon when we drove into Sydney across the iconic Harbour Bridge and the city certainly ensured she was at her best for us. The glistening harbour, the lush green of the Botanic Gardens and the sunlight reflecting off the imposing skyscrapers and opera house - everything welcomed us to our final destination on the east coast.
We spent out first evening at Gaff, a bar run by former Oz Experience drivers, where we got fish and chips, an all-you-can-eat salad bar and three drinks for just $5. Finished the night off sitting in an irish bar listening to live music. Great start for Sydney.
Day Two
Struck out early determined to tick off the Sydney sights. Started at Circular Quay and ambled along the waterfront taking in the bronze plaques of Writers' Walk, powerful and evocative quotations from various literary masters documenting their impressions of and experiences in Australia. From there we made our way to the nearby - and FREE - Rocks Museum via Cadman's Cottage, the oldest private house still standing in Sydney. The Rocks Museum was an informative and brilliantly presented little exhibition on this notorious Sydney district, depicting the lives of both the Cadigal (Sydney's original inhabitants) and the first european settlers. I found it fascinating to finally get a sense of Australia's history - nowhere else we have stopped along the east coast has seemed aware of or particularly shaped by either its aboriginal origins or its colonial past. However, it was also sad to think that the greed and ignorance of Europe allowed us, or rather compelled us, to impose ourselves upon and ultimately wipe out the indigenous population - the majority of the Cadigal died of suspected smallpox shortly after the first settlements were established. It's depressing that we felt the need to "claim" and exploit faraway land rather than just discover it, destroying everything that stood in the way of our grand scheme for progress.
From the museum we walked across the Harbour Bridge for some good views of the opera house but these were marred somewhat by persistent heavy cloud. We then headed off in pursuit of a closer look, passing through the Rocks - the heart of historic Sydney - and stopping to look at some of the city's oldest buildings which have been sympathetically renovated and preserved, including the old customs house where a union jack flag always flies to mark the spot where the English first settled.
That evening, worn out from our day of dedicated sightseeing, we did nothing more than head to Gaff for our cheap dinner (chicken curry this time) and pack our rucksacks for the Blue Mountains trip the next day. When a 6am wake up call is in the pipeline, I find it pays to be prepared!
Day Three
Got picked up bright and early by our friendly guide Jimmy and headed out to the Blue Mountains National Park, all 10300 square kilometres of it. Out first stop was Euroka where we watched wild eastern grey kangaroos, the second largest kangaroo in Australia, feeding and saw a little joey poke its head out of the pouch for the very first time.
Afterwards, we had a short stop in Glenbrook, where Jimmy pointed out remnants of a bush fire which swept through the area on Christmas day a couple of years ago - some people were forced to evacuate and, after the fire, found that they had no home to go back to. I can't even begin to imagine that sort of devastation. We lead such a sheltered existence in the UK where the only real threats we face are those we pose to ourselves and each other; we know nothing of the cruelty of nature. We are distanced from so many natural disasters - no earthquakes, bushfires, hurricanes - and have no known predators left. I can't imagine living in a country where humans are not top of the food chain, a country where a swim in the sea might involve a shark attack or a jellyfish wrapping itself around your leg, where a paddle in a river might culminate in a wrestle with a crocodile, or where striking out into the woods might result in a bite from a poisonous snake.
Leaving Glenbrook, we headed deeper into the national park. It really is beautiful: lush green valleys hemmed in by sandstone cliffs scuplted by erosion and the colour of rust from their exposure to the air - all with the blue haze of eucalyptus oil lingering above. Next on the agenda was the Furber Steps walk, a walk down into the Jamison Valley involving 1000 steps. Here we caught our first glimpse of the three sisters and heard the aborginal story of how they came into being...
There was a magic man named Tayan; he could make anything with his special kangaroo foot bone. He had three daughters and, when he went hunting in the Jamison Valley, he would leave them on the clifftop so they were safe from the Bunyip (a yeti-like creature). One day, they were sitting there and one of the sisters spotted a grub on a rock nearby. She threw a small stone but it fell into the valley, hitting the Bunyip and waking him up. He looked up, saw the sisters and began to climb up to get them. As he did so, a crack appeared in the cliff, blocking the daughters' escape route and trapping them at the edge of the cliff. Frightened, they called out to their father who tried to use his magic foot bone but realised it did not work against the Bunyip. With time runing out to save his daughters, he pointed his magic bone and turned all three into rocks so that they Bunyip could not get them. Seeing this, the enraged Bunyip began to chase Tayan through the valley. The magic man soon found himself trapped in a corner with only a small hole to escape through; this time, he turned to bone on himself, transforming himself into a lyre bird and squeezing through the gap. Once the Bunyip had gone, the lyre bird came out to turn himself back into a man but realised that he had dropped his bone. The story goes that he was unable to find it and to this day the lyre bird spends its time scratching in the dirt to find the bone, transform itself back into Tayan and finally bring his daughters back to life.
Once at the bottom of the valley, we took the world's steepest train back to the top. The Jamison Valley used to be a major mining area and this railway, on a 50 degree incline, was orginally built to transport coal from the mine to the top of the cliff face. When the last mine was closed in the 1950s, it turned into a tourist service. It was great, much more exciting than the peak tram, with the seats facing backwards so you could see the valley bottom getting further and further away during the ascent.
Our next stop was Echo Point for a closer look at the three sisters, followed by a lunch of steak pies which were delicious but could have been twice as big! After lunch came the most strenuous part of our day: the Wentworth Falls bush walk. A round trip into the valley comprising 900 steep steps - we were hot and exhausted by the time we returned to the top but it was worth it to see the largest waterfall in the Blue Mountains.
The final stop of the day was Swiss Rock, a beautiful lookout with an intriguing story behind it. During the war, the German population of Australia was sent to POW camps. There was apparently a German couple running a shop in nearby Katoomba, both of whom were greatly valued by the local community. Instead of giving the couple up to the authorities, the locals decided to hide them in a cave below Swiss Rock and this alleged hiding place still remains today.
Arriving back in Sydney, we rushed around the corner to the Capitol Theatre where we had seen advertisements for the musical Wicked. By some stroke of luck, we arrived just minutes before their Wicked lottery - participants put their name in a box and those drawn out win front row seats worth more than $100 for just $30! Unfortunately, we had to stand there looking like children who have had their sweets confiscated while everyone elses name was drawn out and ours remained steadfastly in the box. Leaving the scene of our disappointment promptly, we wandered down to the harbour and wacthed darkness creep in, the opera house and the harbour bridge light up, and the world pass us by. A very relaxed and contented end to a great day after all.
Day Four
What a perfect day to end our time in Australia - literally every last little thing went to plan. We awoke to bright sunshine (at last!) and, feeling very glad to have left our beach hopping until the last day, we donned our bikinis and headed down to Darling Harbour. Caught the ferry around to Circular Quay and enjoyed spectacular views of the harbour bridge, the opera house and the Sydney skyline against a mercifully blue sky. Got to Circular Quay just in the nick of time for the next ferry to Manly Island, which is pleasant but more developed than I anticipated. I was expecting quaint buildings, untouched beaches and beautiful scenery, not a high street that wouldn't be out of place in any of the towns we've stayed in. Ate lunch in a pavement cafe - fish, chips, calamari and salad - relaxed on the beach soaking up the sun for an hour, then caught the ferry back over to the mainland. From there, it was a bus to Bondi Beach wherer we treated ourselves to an ine cream, watched some of the surf competition and tried not to let the wind make off with all our belongings.
Caught to bus back to Sydney at around 5pm with a vague idea of attempting to enter the Wicked lottery again, gluttons for punishment that we are. Of course, by 5.45pm when we were tantalisingly close and stuck in a traffic jam just 50m from our stop, we were so eager to make it anyone watching would think our lives depended on getting to that theatre foyer by 6pm. An agonising five minutes of waiting followed, during which we practically sat on the driver's shoulder in our impatience to get the bus moving. As soon as that bus came to a stop, we were off and running the three blocks to the theatre. Got there literally one minute before the draw and managed to scribble our names down and get the paper in the box. Everyone then stood with baited breath as she pulled the names out one by one. The first two were drawn out and everyone clapped the lucky ones (we didn't - we wanted the tickets, why would we applaud their success)!? Then she drew out the third name and it was mine!! Yes, mine! Our excitement was so great that actually people laughed at us. I don't blame them. After all, we were jumping up and down, holding hands and squealing in delight - i'm not sure anyone has ever wanted Wicked tickets that much?
What a perfect end to our final day in Australia - the show was outstanding. Excellent cast, fantastic costumes and a beautiful set - altogether an amazing production. Not that I ever don't enjoy the theatre. That moment when the curtain comes up, the stage lights up, the cast walks on and the orchestra starts playing is just magical - my heart beats faster and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. I just love it.
After the show, we ran back to the hostel, quickly made noodles (to eat then) and cheese sandwiches (to eat at the airport), packed our rucksacks, then got into bed to sleep for the three short hours until our shuttle bus to the airport...
Goodbye Australia, hello New Zealand!!
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Byron Bay and Spot X Surf Camp
Byron Bay
3-8 March 2010
Byron Bay consists principally of a long strip stretching back from the sandy bay, where tempting restaurants, trendy bars and expensive boutiques compete for space with hostels, backpacker travel agents and ethnic clothing and jewellery shops. However, despite the fact that it is swarming with backpackers for most of the year, it still manages to stay in some ways true to its hippy roots, retaining the relaxed and quirky feel which attracted travellers in the first place. Aside from that, it's just about sun, sand and surfing! We spent a few days here, steadfastly attempting the beach every day and consistently being forced to beat a hasty retreat an hour or so later when the dark clouds rolled in and the rains came.
Byron Bay is also popular for its nightlife and most evenings were spent dancing the night away in Cheeky Monkeys - a small bar notorious amongst backpackers - complete with wooden booths, cheap drinks, old school music and trestle tables instead of dance floors.
One evening, for a change of pace, we walked up to watch the sunset from the lighthouse on Cape Byron, a rocky promontory marking the most easterly point of mainland Australia. It was a beautiful early evening stroll, the winding road weaving its way upwards, thick woodland on one side, modern and stylish beach houses on the other. Those who reach the top are rewarded by the refreshing sea breeze; the lighthouse standing proudly at the edge of the cliff, brilliant white against the clear blue skies; the waves crashing on the rocks below and the beach stretching off into the distance to meet the lowering sun.
Surf Camp
8-9 March 2010
Spot X - a beachside resort south of Byron Bay and the location of my first ever surf lesson. What an incredible afternoon, loved every second of it! We both managed to stand up after just five minutes (impressive i know!) and the adrenaline rush is so intense it just gets more and more addictive. Admittedly the boards were about nine feet long and more like small boats than surf boards, and admittedly we still "wiped out" so many times we swallowed about a year's worth of recommended salt intake, but standing is standing (even if you do look like Bambi)!!
3-8 March 2010
Byron Bay consists principally of a long strip stretching back from the sandy bay, where tempting restaurants, trendy bars and expensive boutiques compete for space with hostels, backpacker travel agents and ethnic clothing and jewellery shops. However, despite the fact that it is swarming with backpackers for most of the year, it still manages to stay in some ways true to its hippy roots, retaining the relaxed and quirky feel which attracted travellers in the first place. Aside from that, it's just about sun, sand and surfing! We spent a few days here, steadfastly attempting the beach every day and consistently being forced to beat a hasty retreat an hour or so later when the dark clouds rolled in and the rains came.
Byron Bay is also popular for its nightlife and most evenings were spent dancing the night away in Cheeky Monkeys - a small bar notorious amongst backpackers - complete with wooden booths, cheap drinks, old school music and trestle tables instead of dance floors.
One evening, for a change of pace, we walked up to watch the sunset from the lighthouse on Cape Byron, a rocky promontory marking the most easterly point of mainland Australia. It was a beautiful early evening stroll, the winding road weaving its way upwards, thick woodland on one side, modern and stylish beach houses on the other. Those who reach the top are rewarded by the refreshing sea breeze; the lighthouse standing proudly at the edge of the cliff, brilliant white against the clear blue skies; the waves crashing on the rocks below and the beach stretching off into the distance to meet the lowering sun.
Surf Camp
8-9 March 2010
Spot X - a beachside resort south of Byron Bay and the location of my first ever surf lesson. What an incredible afternoon, loved every second of it! We both managed to stand up after just five minutes (impressive i know!) and the adrenaline rush is so intense it just gets more and more addictive. Admittedly the boards were about nine feet long and more like small boats than surf boards, and admittedly we still "wiped out" so many times we swallowed about a year's worth of recommended salt intake, but standing is standing (even if you do look like Bambi)!!
Saturday, 6 March 2010
Brisbane and Surfer's Paradise
Brisbane
28 February - 2 March 2010
Left for Brisbane the morning after the bedbug discovery and arrived to rain. Lots of rain. Not a good start. Not a good finish either; it was still raining when we left! Stayed in a great hostel - Bunk - rated fourth in Australia and located right in the action, in Fortitude Valley. I can't say I was excited by Brisbane as a city though. We managed to find a gap in the rain and wandered through the city centre, along the river and back up through the Botanical Gardens. It's pleasant enough but it doesn't have either the character or the atmosphere of some of the other cities we have visited so far. It is for that reason that the most exciting event of our stay in Brisbane is that we played Bingo on the final night and one of our group won first prize - $80 - and bought us all some beers to celebrate!
Surfer's Paradise
2-3 March 2010
Unfortunately, the rain followed us to Surfer's and we arrived at this seaside sprawl of high-rise apartment blocks, hotels and shopping malls with no hope of going to the beach or making the most of the amazing pool at our hostel. Had a great night of dancing at a nearby cocktail bar though and luckily, we were treated to some sunshine the next morning so we wandered around the town browsing in the shops while we waited for our bus and didn't have to get on it looking like drowned rats!!
28 February - 2 March 2010
Left for Brisbane the morning after the bedbug discovery and arrived to rain. Lots of rain. Not a good start. Not a good finish either; it was still raining when we left! Stayed in a great hostel - Bunk - rated fourth in Australia and located right in the action, in Fortitude Valley. I can't say I was excited by Brisbane as a city though. We managed to find a gap in the rain and wandered through the city centre, along the river and back up through the Botanical Gardens. It's pleasant enough but it doesn't have either the character or the atmosphere of some of the other cities we have visited so far. It is for that reason that the most exciting event of our stay in Brisbane is that we played Bingo on the final night and one of our group won first prize - $80 - and bought us all some beers to celebrate!
Surfer's Paradise
2-3 March 2010
Unfortunately, the rain followed us to Surfer's and we arrived at this seaside sprawl of high-rise apartment blocks, hotels and shopping malls with no hope of going to the beach or making the most of the amazing pool at our hostel. Had a great night of dancing at a nearby cocktail bar though and luckily, we were treated to some sunshine the next morning so we wandered around the town browsing in the shops while we waited for our bus and didn't have to get on it looking like drowned rats!!
Noosa
26-28 February 2010
Spent a couple of days in Noosa, a trendy beach resort with posh restaurants, stylish boutiques and riverside mediterranean-inspired apartment blocks. Nothing much to report since we mostly just relaxed on the beach, occasionally braving the crashing waves for some bodysurfing - although this activity was brought to a halt rather abruptly when I popped up after a particularly big wave and my bikini top neglected to follow suit!
In fact, the most exciting news from Noosa is that we were robbed...in the communal kitchen of all places!! The hostel had a system whereby if the guests want to eat off anything other than their hands, they must pay a deposit for a black canvas bag containing a shabby set of plastic dishes and cutlery. We parted with our cash and were merrily cooking away; we turned our backs for a second and the bag disappeared. I went to reception to explain and was helpfully informed that "you have to keep an eye on the bag or someone will just take it." A ridiculous statement on two counts. First of all, I was in no doubt as to whether someone would hypothetically take the bag - they had already taken it. Secondly, I was "keeping an eye on it" but if I never left it alone, I would find it very difficult to cook anything which would defeat the point of having the bag in the first place. I can only assume that she was suggesting I surgically attach it to my body to prevent someone taking off with it while I was draining my pasta! Sensing I was fighting a losing battle, I just kissed my deposit goodbye and didn't even bother to point out that such mishaps are bound to happen when twenty people are cooking in the same kitchen, all "keeping an eye" on twenty identical black canvas bags!
Unfortunately, the hostel did not improve since we arrived back from the beach the following day to discover that bedbugs had been found in our room. Luckily, they hadn't been found in our beds (they are either incredibly lazy or incredibly selective since they don't like top bunks apparently) but we went on a bedbug-spray-spree nonetheless....just to be sure...
Spent a couple of days in Noosa, a trendy beach resort with posh restaurants, stylish boutiques and riverside mediterranean-inspired apartment blocks. Nothing much to report since we mostly just relaxed on the beach, occasionally braving the crashing waves for some bodysurfing - although this activity was brought to a halt rather abruptly when I popped up after a particularly big wave and my bikini top neglected to follow suit!
In fact, the most exciting news from Noosa is that we were robbed...in the communal kitchen of all places!! The hostel had a system whereby if the guests want to eat off anything other than their hands, they must pay a deposit for a black canvas bag containing a shabby set of plastic dishes and cutlery. We parted with our cash and were merrily cooking away; we turned our backs for a second and the bag disappeared. I went to reception to explain and was helpfully informed that "you have to keep an eye on the bag or someone will just take it." A ridiculous statement on two counts. First of all, I was in no doubt as to whether someone would hypothetically take the bag - they had already taken it. Secondly, I was "keeping an eye on it" but if I never left it alone, I would find it very difficult to cook anything which would defeat the point of having the bag in the first place. I can only assume that she was suggesting I surgically attach it to my body to prevent someone taking off with it while I was draining my pasta! Sensing I was fighting a losing battle, I just kissed my deposit goodbye and didn't even bother to point out that such mishaps are bound to happen when twenty people are cooking in the same kitchen, all "keeping an eye" on twenty identical black canvas bags!
Unfortunately, the hostel did not improve since we arrived back from the beach the following day to discover that bedbugs had been found in our room. Luckily, they hadn't been found in our beds (they are either incredibly lazy or incredibly selective since they don't like top bunks apparently) but we went on a bedbug-spray-spree nonetheless....just to be sure...
Friday, 26 February 2010
Rainbow Beach and Fraser Island
23-26 February 2010
Got to Rainbow Beach late in the evening only to be told that our briefing for Fraser Island was at 6am the next morning (I am rapidly forgetting what it feels like to have a proper night's sleep)! Managed to get a great group together for our 4x4 adventure though so it was with high hopes that we stepped outside the next morning to be greeted by a truck which, to put it politely, had seen better days. Frankly, I'm amazed it could even move - the panelling was rusty, the doors didn't close properly and there was unnerving amount of coughing and spluttering every time you so much as started her up! All part of the experience I'm sure but not very reassuring when a member of our group, who happened to be a mechanic, declared that such a vehicle would never be allowed on the road in Holland and that he would be amazed if it lasted the duration of our trip (three days)!
So you can imagine our reservations when we drove around the corner to the vehicle hire company for an hour of scaremongering with a man warning us how easy it would be to damage the vehicles (and ourselves!) and explaining that, because insurance is so expensive, they don't bother with it so we weren't really covered for anything. Finally though, we were permitted to set off in our disaster time bomb and take the ferry across to Fraser Island, the world's largest sand island (worringly, of the three vehicles going in convoy, one didn't even make it out of the forecourt)!
Arrived on the island (so far so good) and headed north up the road that is the eastern coastline, hemmed in by the rolling waves on one side and the undulating sand dunes on the other. Spent the day at Lake Wabby, a refreshing pool of cool blue cradled at the base of an enormous sand dune a short, but hot, trek inland. Set up camp that evening further down the beach behind the dunes, ate chicken stirfry and had a few drinks to congratulate ourselves on our excellent camping abilities. Very enjoyable evening even though the bugs did their best to spoil it.
Woke up the next morning to discover, much to my dismay, that they had been successful and that I had been bitten. A lot. More than 400 times to be exact. Turns out leggings, shoes, a hoodie and a huge cloud of insect repellent still isn't enough to fend them off. Packed up and headed inland to Lake McKenzie, renowned for its clear fresh water and blindingly white sand. It is indeed idyllic and I tried not to let it be marred by the unpredictable weather (Mother Nature), frantic scratching (me) or mindless shouting and horseplay (the louts who clearly thought they were in Magaluf and waded about all afternoon spilling beer into the shallows). Eventually, we did get a bit of sunshine so managed to appreciate it at its best after all, if only for a brief while.
Left early to navigate the rough tracks to our campsite. Driving inland makes you realise more than ever the need for a 4x4. The tracks are what I would call rustic - loosely carved and full of unpredictable twists, turns and dips (or should I say craters)!? It is, quite literally, a rollercoaster ride - needless to say there were a lot of bruised heads by the end of it!
After a night of too little sleep and too much unbearable itching, we began driving north the next morning to the Pinnacles, huge cliffs sculpted by sand. Unfortunately for us though, Martin's theory proved correct and we were soon diverted from out itinerary by the ominous smell of burning rubber. Our handbrake was stuck. Luckily, we didn't have to wait too long for the island's mechanic to come out and fix it and we were soon on our way again. Following the Pinnacles and unable to do the Champagne Pools or Indian Head due to high tides, we headed south again stopping at the Maheno shipwreck, beached in 1935. Our final stop before returning to the mainland was at Eli Creek, a freshwater creek winding down to the beach between lush green banks. Walked inland then waded back knee-deep in the icy water (a moment of relief for my itching legs)!
Arrived back at Rainbow Beach to unpleasant news - they intended to charge us for the mechanic callout. Since we left late on the morning of departure, we were splashed slightly on our right side by the incoming tide (not our fault and something for which the hire company assured us we would not be held responsible). It would seem they changed their minds since they were now insisting that the stuck handbrake (on the left of the vehicle) was the result of this incident. We tried in vain to plead our case but to no avail and in the end we had no choice but to pay and leave feeling cheated. Or did we? Decided we weren't going to take it lying down and after a polite but firm phonecall to the manager in Hervey Bay, a man from the hire company came driving down the road with his tail between his legs and our money in his hand. Victory was ours! Such a relief - had an amazing time on the island and definitely didn't want my memory of it clouded by the swindling ways of a dodgy hire company right at the last moment! Used the refunded money to treat ourselves to a steak dinner and a jug of cider (and forget about my itching bites for a few blessed minutes)! Stop scratching, stop scratching.....stop scratching.....
Got to Rainbow Beach late in the evening only to be told that our briefing for Fraser Island was at 6am the next morning (I am rapidly forgetting what it feels like to have a proper night's sleep)! Managed to get a great group together for our 4x4 adventure though so it was with high hopes that we stepped outside the next morning to be greeted by a truck which, to put it politely, had seen better days. Frankly, I'm amazed it could even move - the panelling was rusty, the doors didn't close properly and there was unnerving amount of coughing and spluttering every time you so much as started her up! All part of the experience I'm sure but not very reassuring when a member of our group, who happened to be a mechanic, declared that such a vehicle would never be allowed on the road in Holland and that he would be amazed if it lasted the duration of our trip (three days)!
So you can imagine our reservations when we drove around the corner to the vehicle hire company for an hour of scaremongering with a man warning us how easy it would be to damage the vehicles (and ourselves!) and explaining that, because insurance is so expensive, they don't bother with it so we weren't really covered for anything. Finally though, we were permitted to set off in our disaster time bomb and take the ferry across to Fraser Island, the world's largest sand island (worringly, of the three vehicles going in convoy, one didn't even make it out of the forecourt)!
Arrived on the island (so far so good) and headed north up the road that is the eastern coastline, hemmed in by the rolling waves on one side and the undulating sand dunes on the other. Spent the day at Lake Wabby, a refreshing pool of cool blue cradled at the base of an enormous sand dune a short, but hot, trek inland. Set up camp that evening further down the beach behind the dunes, ate chicken stirfry and had a few drinks to congratulate ourselves on our excellent camping abilities. Very enjoyable evening even though the bugs did their best to spoil it.
Woke up the next morning to discover, much to my dismay, that they had been successful and that I had been bitten. A lot. More than 400 times to be exact. Turns out leggings, shoes, a hoodie and a huge cloud of insect repellent still isn't enough to fend them off. Packed up and headed inland to Lake McKenzie, renowned for its clear fresh water and blindingly white sand. It is indeed idyllic and I tried not to let it be marred by the unpredictable weather (Mother Nature), frantic scratching (me) or mindless shouting and horseplay (the louts who clearly thought they were in Magaluf and waded about all afternoon spilling beer into the shallows). Eventually, we did get a bit of sunshine so managed to appreciate it at its best after all, if only for a brief while.
Left early to navigate the rough tracks to our campsite. Driving inland makes you realise more than ever the need for a 4x4. The tracks are what I would call rustic - loosely carved and full of unpredictable twists, turns and dips (or should I say craters)!? It is, quite literally, a rollercoaster ride - needless to say there were a lot of bruised heads by the end of it!
After a night of too little sleep and too much unbearable itching, we began driving north the next morning to the Pinnacles, huge cliffs sculpted by sand. Unfortunately for us though, Martin's theory proved correct and we were soon diverted from out itinerary by the ominous smell of burning rubber. Our handbrake was stuck. Luckily, we didn't have to wait too long for the island's mechanic to come out and fix it and we were soon on our way again. Following the Pinnacles and unable to do the Champagne Pools or Indian Head due to high tides, we headed south again stopping at the Maheno shipwreck, beached in 1935. Our final stop before returning to the mainland was at Eli Creek, a freshwater creek winding down to the beach between lush green banks. Walked inland then waded back knee-deep in the icy water (a moment of relief for my itching legs)!
Arrived back at Rainbow Beach to unpleasant news - they intended to charge us for the mechanic callout. Since we left late on the morning of departure, we were splashed slightly on our right side by the incoming tide (not our fault and something for which the hire company assured us we would not be held responsible). It would seem they changed their minds since they were now insisting that the stuck handbrake (on the left of the vehicle) was the result of this incident. We tried in vain to plead our case but to no avail and in the end we had no choice but to pay and leave feeling cheated. Or did we? Decided we weren't going to take it lying down and after a polite but firm phonecall to the manager in Hervey Bay, a man from the hire company came driving down the road with his tail between his legs and our money in his hand. Victory was ours! Such a relief - had an amazing time on the island and definitely didn't want my memory of it clouded by the swindling ways of a dodgy hire company right at the last moment! Used the refunded money to treat ourselves to a steak dinner and a jug of cider (and forget about my itching bites for a few blessed minutes)! Stop scratching, stop scratching.....stop scratching.....
Kroombit Park
21-22 February 2010
What an amazing 24 hours! Arrived at Lochenbar Station in Kroombit Park feeling filthy and exhausted after just a few hours of sleep and an eleven hour bus journey, but there was no time to be tired. The ranch was amazing, just the sort of place I have wanted to stay at ever since I read Nancy Turner's These is My Words. Everything felt authentic, from the log cabin dormitories to the huge wooden table constructed from tree trunks where we ate a delicious meal of chicken broth followed by roast deer, potatoes, vegetables and rich gravy. Even the tables around the makeshift bar were carved from tree stumps!
Had a great night riding the bucking bronco and learning how to crack a whip (I managed it on my first attempt - confirmation that I have missed my vocation as a cowgirl)! After that, we started on the giggle juice (cheap fizzy wine) and played drinking games in the dark surrounded by nothing but fields and animals for miles and miles.
The next morning, we were up bright and early for the goat rodeo where we learnt to throw a lasso (a very useful life skill) before heading off to do our very first goat muster on horseback. My horse Shanty was either stubborn or lazy (or both!) - can't say I blame her having to carry me around in that heat. Still loved every second of it though; I won't be held back by a less-than-enthusiastic horse! Besides, she got into the swing of it in the end and even managed a little trot! We wandered out along a rough dirt track to where the goats were grazing. We then had to round them up on horseback and drive them to new pasture, all the time shouting at the top of our lungs and making sure none of them amanged to sneak away! It was so much fun.
I just love the countryside here - such uninterrupted and untamed grasslands stretching as far as the eye can see, rolling hills of green punctured with tress, shrubbery and rocky outcrops. A stark contract to the perfectly proportioned and manicured fields of rural England.
Once our work was done and the goats were where they needed to be, it was back on the bus for another long journey to Rainbow Beach...
What an amazing 24 hours! Arrived at Lochenbar Station in Kroombit Park feeling filthy and exhausted after just a few hours of sleep and an eleven hour bus journey, but there was no time to be tired. The ranch was amazing, just the sort of place I have wanted to stay at ever since I read Nancy Turner's These is My Words. Everything felt authentic, from the log cabin dormitories to the huge wooden table constructed from tree trunks where we ate a delicious meal of chicken broth followed by roast deer, potatoes, vegetables and rich gravy. Even the tables around the makeshift bar were carved from tree stumps!
Had a great night riding the bucking bronco and learning how to crack a whip (I managed it on my first attempt - confirmation that I have missed my vocation as a cowgirl)! After that, we started on the giggle juice (cheap fizzy wine) and played drinking games in the dark surrounded by nothing but fields and animals for miles and miles.
The next morning, we were up bright and early for the goat rodeo where we learnt to throw a lasso (a very useful life skill) before heading off to do our very first goat muster on horseback. My horse Shanty was either stubborn or lazy (or both!) - can't say I blame her having to carry me around in that heat. Still loved every second of it though; I won't be held back by a less-than-enthusiastic horse! Besides, she got into the swing of it in the end and even managed a little trot! We wandered out along a rough dirt track to where the goats were grazing. We then had to round them up on horseback and drive them to new pasture, all the time shouting at the top of our lungs and making sure none of them amanged to sneak away! It was so much fun.
I just love the countryside here - such uninterrupted and untamed grasslands stretching as far as the eye can see, rolling hills of green punctured with tress, shrubbery and rocky outcrops. A stark contract to the perfectly proportioned and manicured fields of rural England.
Once our work was done and the goats were where they needed to be, it was back on the bus for another long journey to Rainbow Beach...
Airlie Beach and the Whitsundays
16-20 February 2010
Arrived in Airlie Beach to pouring rain. Not the best start with three days' sailing in the Whitsundays ahead of us. Spent the day getting organised and praying for sun. Fortunately, our prayers were answered and we hopped onto the Atlantic Clipper the next day in glorious sunshine. Spent the afternoon sailing out to Hook Island where we anchored for the night and sat down to a delicous meal of fish cooked in foil, mashed potato with herbs and fresh salad. Very welcome after days of surviving on peanut butter, bread and instant noodles (money not stretching quite as far in Australia as it did in China)! Then it was up to the top deck for drinks and dancing where we soon joined by some playful dolphins splashing around in the water next to the boat.
The next day we were woken up at 7am to the sound of the crew singing "Sex Bomb" and a severe case of sea sickness. Staggered off the boat at Whitsunday Island though and headed up to Lookout Point for immediate relief and a stunning view of the dense pine forest, golden coastline and turqoise ocean. I can see why this is the fourth most photographed view in Australia. Relaxed on the beautiful Whitehaven Beach for the rest of the morning, dozing on the softest, finest sand I have ever seen.
After lunch, we headed to Luncheon Bay where we did a spot of snorkelling and made the most of the boat's spa pool and waterslide. We even saw a giant turtle coming up for air beside the boat. Spent the evening on deck watching sharks circling the boat in the illuminated waters below.
The next morning there was time for more snorkelling, this time in Blue Pearl Bay. Saw more fish than I have seen anywhere so far - the crew threw food from the boat and hundreds of splashes of colour would come charging to the surface, splashing and wriggling about just a few centimetres from my mask. I even managed to touch a huge grouper fish, affectionately called Elvis by the crew. When I say huge, I mean huge. He was about the same size as me!
Headed back to Airlie Beach for a night out with everyone from the boat and accidentally stayed out dancing until there were only four hours between us and the early morning bus to our Australian outback experience at Kroombit Park. Oops!
Arrived in Airlie Beach to pouring rain. Not the best start with three days' sailing in the Whitsundays ahead of us. Spent the day getting organised and praying for sun. Fortunately, our prayers were answered and we hopped onto the Atlantic Clipper the next day in glorious sunshine. Spent the afternoon sailing out to Hook Island where we anchored for the night and sat down to a delicous meal of fish cooked in foil, mashed potato with herbs and fresh salad. Very welcome after days of surviving on peanut butter, bread and instant noodles (money not stretching quite as far in Australia as it did in China)! Then it was up to the top deck for drinks and dancing where we soon joined by some playful dolphins splashing around in the water next to the boat.
The next day we were woken up at 7am to the sound of the crew singing "Sex Bomb" and a severe case of sea sickness. Staggered off the boat at Whitsunday Island though and headed up to Lookout Point for immediate relief and a stunning view of the dense pine forest, golden coastline and turqoise ocean. I can see why this is the fourth most photographed view in Australia. Relaxed on the beautiful Whitehaven Beach for the rest of the morning, dozing on the softest, finest sand I have ever seen.
After lunch, we headed to Luncheon Bay where we did a spot of snorkelling and made the most of the boat's spa pool and waterslide. We even saw a giant turtle coming up for air beside the boat. Spent the evening on deck watching sharks circling the boat in the illuminated waters below.
The next morning there was time for more snorkelling, this time in Blue Pearl Bay. Saw more fish than I have seen anywhere so far - the crew threw food from the boat and hundreds of splashes of colour would come charging to the surface, splashing and wriggling about just a few centimetres from my mask. I even managed to touch a huge grouper fish, affectionately called Elvis by the crew. When I say huge, I mean huge. He was about the same size as me!
Headed back to Airlie Beach for a night out with everyone from the boat and accidentally stayed out dancing until there were only four hours between us and the early morning bus to our Australian outback experience at Kroombit Park. Oops!
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