charlie's travels

Mountains to fiords, penguins and dolphins

2007-11-30T10:34:00.000+11:00

Queenstown is a stunningly located town. Nestled between ridges of snow-capped mountains, next to a huge weaving, winding lake.

In winter you can ski; in summer, you can bungy, white water raft, skydive, paraglide... the list is endless.

We pootled in our little Spaceship to a DOC conservation campsite next to the lake. It was beautiful - a large stony, wild patch of land about a 15 minute drive from the town. Campers dotted themselves at respectable distances apart - some away from the stream gushing down from the snowy mountain behind us, a few edging the lake like us.

But they all had one advantage over our Spaceship - they could get in and close the doors, use the lights and play cards, drink wine and cook dinner. We had our cooker swung out of the door, sat hunched inside or stood outside batting away the sandflies. We were bitten. A lot. So much so that even a pretty sunset was pretty pointless.

There was plenty to do and see in town - drinking, eating Fergburgers (they really are good), and climbing 1,500 ft up a mountain (in a cable car), to look at the view.

Alex and Kath took to the waters in a jet boat to do 360 degree turns and such like but money prevented me. I was so tempted to do another sjydive, a paraglide or bungy though...

The money was being saved, however, for a trip to Fiordland. A massive national park full of inlets with towering mountains, huge cascading waterfalls and SEVEN METRES OF RAIN A YEAR.

They simply don't bother with millimetres or centimetres. Well, would you if you received the UK's annual rainfall in ONE DAY?!

We decided to visit the less well-known Doubtful Sound rather than the hugely popular Milford Sound (they are, in fact, fiords not sounds - a sound is a flooded valley: a fiord has been carved by glaciers).

ANd so we opted for an overnight cruise along with some blue rinses and binoculared, raincoat-clad weirdos - who all turned out to be rather nice. Apart from the ones who pushed their way to the front of the buffet...

It was the most amazing trip.

It had been raining for five days but, as we approached the fiord, the sun made an attempt to pierce the heavy, burdened grey skies. And succeeded. And so, we were treated to, if not a sun-baked then a sun-warmed, afternoon skirting the edges of the fiord, exploring inlets and peering up at huge cascades of waterfalls - all impermanent. Gallons of water poured from way up high - some as tall as any waterfall you will see around the world. One was said to be falling from 900 metres above us.

We ventured into one arm in kayaks - dipping our paddles into the still water and losening the scarves bundled around our necks as we forged along the walls of the fiord. The sun was hot and we were content to stream along at a lesuirely pace looking up at waterfalls running from the sheer cliffs above us.

All too soon, we had to file back to the boat where we dried off in time for hot soup.

That afternoon we powered out to the place the firod met the roaring Abel Tasman sea - characterised by huge waves bashing the rocks. Here, we saw dozens of seals lazing on stony outcrops.

And then, somehow, the nature guide spotted a Fiordland crested penguin - the rarestt penguin in the world. There are just 2,000 left and they are about 40cm high. We edged close to the tree-covered rocks and eventually made out a tiny blue spot - which was our penguin. He was very tiny and very hard to spot. Well, we could check penguin off our list but we felt a little disappointed not to have seen it closer or more clearly. You could hardly see it was a penguin at all.

But we made our way into a different part of the fiord and into a sheltered arm for dinner. As night drew in, we were commanded out onto the deck where we sat or stood in silence - motors off, lights down - we looked into the twighlight and heard - nothing.

Later that night, Kath, Alex and I went up onto deck again and listened to the birds calling - eventually nature guide Dan joined us and we heard a Kiwi and Wekas.

Night was pecaeful - the three of us had been upgraded to an ensuite cabin - but I woke early to shower and ran upstairs to see the cold first light of the new day. It was breathtakingly beautiful...

The day was misty, cold and wet but it just gave Fiordland a slightly different character.

We saw bottlenost dolphins swimnming into the fiord arm we had just left and later, some came to grab a free ride - surfing on the waves cresting at the bow.

And then we saw some more penguins. Not one or two, but nine. And this time we were able to see them fully - down to the yellow cresting over their eyes. We watched a pair waddling over rocks towards the water and then turned a corner around the island to see another seven. It was just incredible to watch them and I felt really priviledged to see these birds in the wild. Infact, there are none in capitivity.

And then, too soon, it was time to return. But not before we saw a rainbow arced low over the fiord. All rushing to take photos, we suddenly saw a pair of dophins and watched in wonder as they swam right underneath the rainbow - pure magic.

And so, as we returned to Cosmo the spaceship, we didn't want the journey to end. We clambered back in and decided to take the picturessque drive to Milford Sound - through snowy peaks, seeing the huge, green and rather vicious Keas (parrots) and across plains.

And then it was back along the road, camping at Te Anu and then heading towards Christchurch. We wound past Mt Cook, skirting lakes of a vivid blue hue, over mountain passes and past nasty policeman who fined me for driving a little fast...

Christchurch was our last stop and we made the most of our time here by souvenir shopping, riding the tram (a lot), going to craft shops and having dinner by the beach.

And before we knew it, it was Friday, November 30th and I had a 31-hour journey back to Birmingham. A tiring journey that involved a refuelling at Sydney (but flying in at night with the Opera House and harbour bridge made it somewhat worthwhile), a three hour stop at Dubai where I could use the business class lounge, and a seven hour stint back to the UK in business class. I'm never ever travelling another way...

fiery sun and cold, cold ice

2007-11-24T14:58:00.001+11:00

Busy, busy times in our last two weeks in New Zealand - and indeed, of my travels. This time.

Last weekend, we ventured to Abel Tasman national park; NZ's smallest, but one of its most beautiful in my opinion. Unlike the rugged beauty of the many mountain ranges, the rains, snows and high winds, Abel Tasman has beautiful curves of beach, washes of azure ocean with golden sands and thick forestland just metres from the coastline.

We lucked out and managed to sweet-talk a local landowner into letting us camp on his land down a rough track next to a river, a kiwi plantation and forest. Mountains in the distance, the small town just a minute or two's drive.

The following morning, I took an early water taxi up to Tonga, past a few huge, fat seals lounging on the rocks, and walked along the coastline back towards the town, through beautiful beaches at Bark Bay and eventually ending at Anchorage beach after wading across a tidal estury whose waters were rising rapidly.

I walked alone - Alex's foot was still giving him trouble so he and Kath had taken a boat trip - but there were plenty of trampers going my way or the other.

The sun was hot, the wind low. I believe I even got a little bit of colour... Every now and then the winding, uphill, downhill track would crest and I would peak the ocean before descending into dark forest again. Or edge along rocky tracks with thick bush masking the drop away to the sea.

We drove on south, through the Buller gorge and down to the west coast of the south island.

Here, we skirted the land on winding roads with dramatic storm-laden skies and the wind-swept Tasman ravaging the rocky outcrops which here and there rose up monstrously from the shallower waters.

We pulled up at Pancake Rocks - layered formations of weather-beaten, time-condenced stone with huge blowholes which spout furiously at high tide (we missed it by quite a way but it was still very impressive - the roaring seas still making a splash in the caverns).

And then it was down towards the glaciers. We stopped for the night at a small town close to the beach north of Franz Joseph and camped at a community-run campsite. After watching sunset on the large, pebbly beach with a tin mug of goon, we met a Kiwi girl and her English boyfriend and they indugled us by enjoying in a few rounds of 'I'm a chocolate bar, this is my dance', which soon led to confectionary and ice creams. A great, very random evening.

We ummed and aahed over which glacier to climb and how long Alex's foot would hold out before deciding to climb Fox the following afternoon.

It was a long trek up the side of the mountainous glacier - taking us along boulder-strewn paths with signs such as 'No stopping for the next 30 metres due to rockfall risk, up metal ladders and along a sheer cliff face.

And then we attached crampons to our sturdy borrowed leather boots, picked up a snow pole and climbed onto the glacier - stomping our feet like teenagers to grip the ice.

We climbed ready-hewn steps for about twenty minutes and then turned back. It was a little disappointing - I expected huge ice caverns and caves to wander through instead of pretty much up and over the great ridges.

But the glacier itself was pretty impressive, despite the cloudy afternoon obscuring the top half (at least) and the mountains behind. Such power, such weight and pressure. Interestingly, it is advancing (up to a metre a day) but you can see how much larger the glacier once was 30 years ago, and in the preceeding years as well, from the varying lines of vegetation and rock formation.

The following morning we checked out Franz Joseph glacier from the ground and then headed down to Queenstown.

skydiving, volcanoes and more...

2007-11-19T18:30:00.000+11:00

Lake Taupo is actually a very large crater full of water - and one that could erupt anyday. Like Yellowstone in America, it is well overdue an erruption - and one would change the face of the planet forever.

Odd then that it should be such a calm and peaceful place. A lake where boats zip across the placid waters, kayaks occasionally plough back and forth and all of it serenely overlooked by the three volcanoes in Tongariro National Park.

Perhaps not so odd then that I should chose this place to jump out of a perfectly good plane at 15,000ft.

But this is what I did. After staying the night at a very basic but free and idyllic campsite on the edge of town, I was whisked from the centre to the airport by limo. Here, I saw Hayley and Russ - a couple we'd met along our travels - who were also risking their necks. Kath and Alex drove up to watch the fun from the ground. Wise.

I was partnered up to Mike, a sturdy Kiwi who'd worked in Evesham (few miles from the parents) a few years back. He helped me into a blue sortofa boilersuit, harnessed me up, gave me goggles, a hat, gloves and an oxygen mask... hang on?! An oxygen mask...??!!

Well, into the yellow and blue plane we got. I was attached to Mike as we sat down by a complicated sortofa strap system. We were right at the front, next to the pilot, but facing backwards on long wooden benches. We were at the back because only two of us were 'silly' enough to jump from 15,000ft (the others opting for 12,000ft).

Then it was up, up and away... the small airplane rising swiftly (an odd sensation when facing backwards) and we rose high above the lake, banking into it as we rose higher and higher.

We were getting alarmingly high and at around this point, they opened the doors and off pinged the first two or three tandems. Until one guy couldn't go. His hand was welded to the bar above the door. His mind would just not let his body go.

We slammed the doors shut and banked sharply - going around for second shot. Again, he could not do it. Hayley's instructor was shouting at the guy's tandem partner to get out of the way. I was beginning to think I could not take banking again and all this waiting... I was beginning to get nervous. He moved back - they were not going to jump. Hayley was soon out of the door.

Suddenly the door slammed down again and Mike was telling me to put the oxygen mask over my mouth as we climbed to 15,000ft.

As Jen, a 70-year-old hero of a woman, moved forward to the door, so Mike and I inched forward.

Then she was gone. I was last. Mike was shifting me towards the door. I wanted to grab something, anything but realised just seconds from my hand becoming fixed to that bar that I had to grab the straps of my harness or the same would happen to me... Sat on Mikes lap I was shoved to the door where he sat at the edge - my legs dangling into the rushing wind - it was bloody breezy up there and freezing cold.

Everything looked very, very small below.

And then he pushed off from the edge and I was screaming as we plunged towards the ground. Arms out, head back...my eyes kept straying to the very small lake below us - which was rapidly getting larger. I looked over to what could have been snow-capped volcanoes, or clouds... Who knew. It was blowy and fast. The wind, the air was whistling past me.

Over 60 seconds of freefall but it went so fast. Then there was a tug. We stopped abruptly. And there above us burst a bright red parachute. We slowed. It was quiet.

I was moved into a sitting position by Mike and slowly we turned on the thermals. Mike directed the way we soared and we swung out over the lake.

Then, we turned back towards the airport and slowly, and gracefully came in to land. Softly, gently with hardly a bump. Amazing.

No rest for the wicked however. That afternoon, after a peaceful lunch by the lake, we drove towards the mountains and to the village of Whakapapa, on the slopes of the volcano.

For the next day we were to attempt the Tongariro crossing - a one day serious alpine hike, tramp over the Tongariro volcano.

Tuesday dawned cloudy and damp. The shuttles to the start of the route were running but they warned us to be prepared. We had seriously rugged up and borrowed thermal waterprood trousers, bought thick gloves and had supplies of food and water to feed a small army.

The man at the campsite thought we were crazy. "I'd only go if I wanted to prove to myself I could do it in bad weather," he told Katherine. But the forecast was worse for the following day - so we set out determining to turn back if the weather turned bad.

It was very cold and grey but we trudged up the steep sides of the mountain - battling fierce winds up the Devil's staircase into the south crater. Snow capped peaks were visible through the swirling mists. It was surreal.

We started to climb the ridge of the red crater and met up with a hardy, older Scottish couple who advised to keep left to avoid being blown into the depths of the other crater. It was a little scary but we all ploughed on together. We neared the top of that ridge - the point of no return - and were surrounded by cloud. We crossed another ridge where the wind whipped around us. Sheer drops to either side. It was more frightening than jumping out of a plane.

And then the clouds cleared as we slid down the soft sands on the other side. A blue lake in the distance over the main crater was revealed and, below us, three small emerald-green lakes. The snow-covered sides of the crater were visible and the sun shone down just long enough for us to have a snack.

Then we ploughed on through snow and rocky ground. We ate lunch and the wind and clouds returned so that, even next to it, we couldn't see the blue lake any longer.

We walked on past small glaciers and ridges of snow and then down a winding tracks through the bush and into the forests below. It was a full-on day-long walk. It was around 5pm by the time we returned to our car - we had left it at 8am.

That night, snow fell around the campsite and we awoke to a winter wonderland. Blizzards raged on the moutainsides and we could no longer see the peaks. So off we trotted south towards Wellington (returning twice for lost things) where we met up with Russ and Hayley again and had a few days chilling at a backpackers, going for a few drinks and seeing a live band or two, walking along the harbour and looking over the city from a high viewpoint.

On Frida, we took a ferry across the Cook Strait with Russ and Hayley - leaving behind the north island for the rest of the trip.

The last hour or so of the trip was idyllic as we cruised through the Queen Charlotte Sound. Still waters, high green mountains on either side of the channel and blue skies...

We spent that night at a DOC (dept of conservation) campsite next to one of the inlets in the sound - a peaceful spot haunted by weka birds and ducks and which we had virtually to ourselves.

Saturday, we took a bus trip of the wineries of Marlborough - where they make my favourite wine - Sauvignon Blanc. We tasted Cloudy Bay and Villa Maria and several boutique wines, had a wonderful lunch at Hunters winery and returned feeling happy and a little giddy! So far, so good. I'll update with more news soon...

and to New Zealand...

2007-11-10T14:17:00.000+11:00

My arrival in New Zealand was not too triumphant. My Emirates flight (uncharacteristically rude staff and poor service) landed at Auckland airport and I promptly threw up...

Not too good an omen.

But I had been feeling rather ill the past few days and hadn't even been able to drink... must have been all that running on the beach.

After a long ride into town through rush hour, I arrived at Danielle's sisters workplace - which had a stunning view over Auckland harbour. Sailing boats caught the breeze in the afternoon sunshine. All I cared about was where the toilet was...

But it was lovely to see Danielle's sisters. Jen I last saw on Danielle's birthday in February, and Laura at Christmas in Sydney. They took me to Jen's house and put me to bed.

I spent a few lazy days in Auckland visiting markets, going to pizza and drinks with the girls at Viaduct Harbour and on K Road (the trendy red-light area), visiting Laura's house, chilling out and watching Friends dvds.

At the weekend the three of us decamped to the Coromandel Peninsula along with Jen's housemate and Laura's boyfriend. We drove to a friend's Bach (as in Batchelor pad or holiday home) at Cook's Beach and all piled into the bunkhouse there.

Grant was having a clean-up weekend and we had come down to help in the garden in exchange for the use of his house and entertainment.

And entertained we were. After a morning pruning bushes, picking up weeds and cuttings, washing the outside of the house and entertaining the children of Grant's friends Bruce and Nicole, we visited a lookout over Cook's Beach and later went out on his speedboat.

The day had brightened and it was hot and sunny by the time we got out onto the water. We sped around to famous Cathedral Cove (big hole in a rock) and to another cave which we backed into.

And then we arrived at a blowhole where Jen, Laura, Gronya, Javier and I jumped into the icy water (18C) and snorkelled through a cave to the blowhole - lying on our backs to look up to the sky, sunshine and trees above.

The following day, we drove to Hot Water Beach - a place where you could dig a hole in the sand and it would fill with hot - sometimes scalding water. Except you had to know where to dig. Too far away and the water was icy. Too close and it was boiling. Too close to the ocean (like mine and Jen's hole), and it filled with the occasional bracing wave as well as the bath-like water.

On Monday (Nov 5th), I met my friend Kath and her brother Alex to pick up our car for our camping trip. They had flown out from the UK the previous day and we all met to inspect our Spaceship - a converted people carrier with a pod atop for additional sleeping.

We set out full of hope and pomp and joy at being on the road - but it soon turned to horror as the rain began to lash down as we drove north to the Bay of Islands.

It hardly let up for days.

Putting up the bed and pod was a challenge at our first campsite but at least we had camp kitchen facilities instead of using our two ring gas stove in the wet and cold. It would have been very picturesque - parked by the sea and beach - had it not been quite so miserable weather-wise.

The following day we caught the car-ferry across to Russell - the former capital of NZ and once a rough and rowdy port. These days it's much quieter and rather a quaint seaside town - also home to the oldest pub in the country. We drove up to a viewpoint over the bay on Flagstaff hill and then wandered the arts and crafts shops and stopped for a cuppa.

The weather making it not worth dishing out for a boat trip, we drove to Aphipura in search of the sun. At a nice campsite here, we made a feast and chilled out and met a couple from Hastings - Hayley and Russell.

Wednesday morning we hopped aboard Aphipura Sand Safari bus - a trip up to Cape Reinga and along 90-mile beach. It was pouring with rain and the three of us and a Scottish couple were the only passengers.

After visiting a pretty natural harbour in misty rain, we stopped for huge ice creams and the sun began attempting to break through the gloom. We kept meeting up with R&H's tour on the route, which then took us through forests, over hills and gave us peeks at both the Tasman and Pacific Oceans, to a pretty and quiet bay where we had lunch, chased seagulls and enjoyed the hot sunshine which had made a timely appearance.

Then it was off to the blowy Cape where a lighthouse stands watch over the meeting of the two oceans at this most northerly point. To the west was a long stunning beach with mountainous sand dunes.

These we were later to toboggan down - much to my distress and eventual delight!

After a drive down the Te Paka stream with its sinking sands, we were on 90-mile beach (which is actually only 60 miles long!) for a run back to the campsite.

We hit the road that evening and made a trip through the forests and mountains while it was still light. It is in this part of NZ the ancient Kauri trees are found. These are buried trees thousands of years old which have been dug up and make stunning furniture. There is only an estimated 50 years worth of supply left - yet they make everything from honey spoons to door stops and souvenir eggs from the wood.

We camped in a layby by a stunning natural harbour and the following day drove to Waitomo.

Here, we took a Spellbound tour to caves under the limestone hills to see glow worms. We walked through one cave with its stalagmites and stalagtites, pools and bones of now-extinct birds (the moa), goats, cows, hawks and so on. Then we walked through another cave and into a boat where, once the lights were out, we saw the ceiling glowing as the night-sky never has. Thousands upon thousands of larvae were emiting a beautiful blueish light. It was truly spectacular.

Then, it was off to Rotorua. We spent yesterday exploring the town, drinking coffee and then visiting the zorb site. Here, I rolled down a zig-zagged track on a hill in a large plastic ball.

There is an outer ball and an inner-one which I jumped into with alot of water... and then there I went, sloshing down the hill in this rather large hamsterball. Great fun.

Today (Sunday, Nov 11), we visited Wai-o-tapu - a geothermal 'wonderland'. Here, we saw bubbling mud pools, the champagne pool (a large misting, fizzy lake which is 62m deep and 74C formed by a hydrothermal erruption! Around the edges were the deep oranges, yellows and greens formed by gold, silver, arsenic, mercury and so on), the devil's bath (a bright green pool) and the Lady Knox Geyser which spouted about 12m.

Now we are at Lake Taupo... more exciting things to come!!

full circle

2007-10-29T11:03:00.000+11:00

So, back in Sydney. Back in Manly. The sun is shining and everything is familiar and comnforting and beautiful.

Back at Manly backpackers - a new lick of paint, a few things moved around but still the same old place. Music cranked up on weekend days. Lively, lovely people. Full of Poms and some of the old crew - Paul and Michelle, Jimbo and Ash, Russ, Lindon and Tall Guy...

The bus journey was hell - 14 hours long overnight and very little sleep but good company in the form of a Scotsman I met on the Nimbin trip and an Irish girl. We drove in from the north, down the freeway until there it was - the harbour stretching out infront of us. Small boats bobbing along, ferries chugging back and forth, Tthe Opera House winking away in the sunshine. The bridge stood proudly over it all and I felt full of emotion and fondness and awe. It felt like a triumphant return.

Back on the ferry to Manly - that trip I did everyday with Danielle and we took together last February as we headed south for a new adventure. How much had happened since. How many things I have seen and how much distance I have covered, these were turning over in my mind as I came 'home'.

Because Manly is just a beautiful place - a stunning beach, lovely wharf, great shops and trendy cafes, average but fun nightlife and a real community feel. There was the Honolulu Grill where Steven took me for lunch on the day I arrived and there were the volleyball nets where we used to sit and sunbathe at the weekends. In the distance is Shelley Beach - host to many, many barbecues - not least that on Christmas Day with Danielle and her family and our close friends.

If this post is self-indulgent - screw it. I've had an amazing time in New Zealand. I've seen penguins and dugongs, watched whales breach in two different oceans, swam with whalesharks and seen countless kangeroos, emus, kookaburras, snakes, spiders and lorikeets.

I've eaten bushtucker and learned about aboriginal art, life, culture. I've climbed to the top of an amazing waterfall (Jim Jim) and slept in a swag in the outback.

I've flown over the desert and barrier reef, and helicoptered over the amazing Bungle Bungles. I've flown a plane and ridden a chopper in 1770. I've dived one of the world's best wreck dives (SS Yongala) and scuba-ed on the Great Barrier Reef.

I've tasted amazing wines at Margaret River and average ones at Hunter Valley. I've cooked snags on a stone in a campfire in the Blue Mountains and worked in the rat race at Darling Harbour.

I've waited tables, poured pints, made beds, worked in a strip club, pandered to doctors and production managed magazines for a massive company.

I've made lifelong friends and met people from all over.

And now it is over.

Almost.

This weekend I've met up with Steve again, drank red wine with him,smoked a shisha with him and joined him and John for a 4.5km run at 7am along the soft sands at Manly followed by breakfast at the Honolulu grill.

I don't ever want to leave. But I really do. I have four weeks in New Zealand to come and then home to see all my family and friends for Christmas. It's not such a bad life...

city living to the hippy life...

2007-10-26T13:50:00.000+10:00

Ok ok, a long time between posts I know. Settle down - it's because my life has been fairly routine of late.

Well, if you can call strip clubs, trashing hotel bedrooms, visiting the marjuana capital of Australia, dressing up in army gear and spending an inordinate amount of time sleeping routine...

I arrived in Brisbane full of the joys of the coast and it was a shock to be back in a big city again. Not since Melbourne, or Perth at a push, have I had such a choice of shops, bars, restaurants and felt the vibe of city living.

It was repelling in its dirty busy-ness, its distance from the beach and cost of living there. BUt I was drawn in by the compulsion to return to that kind of 'real' life where people go to work and spend more than $3 on dinner.

But Brisbane was a stranger experience than I imagined. I was delighted to find old Manly friends Wolsy, Frenchie and Sheep at Brisbane City Backpackers. The big orange building was a great place to meet people and I met a wicked crowd of people. I decided to stay and wait until my friend Fiona (Perth and Darwin) arrived.

I liked it. I got a job cleaning hostel bedrooms. Not too taxing you might think - bit of hoovering, making beds in private rooms and dusting. Ha. My first day I realised I was alone doing this and spent the next eight hours biting my tongue. It was a long, long day and the pay? abysmal. A week's accommodation ($145) plus about $220 cash for long days, six days a week. Oh and half price drinks at the bar. I gave it up after that first day...

Fiona arrived and was installed by a rich friend in a plush appartment in the city centre. The two-bed place had a pool, spa, gym, lovely lounge and kitchen - we were in our element for the week we had it. Going back to a backpackers has never been so hard.

I went for a job working in the bar at an upmarket strip club and took it. Pretty good pay and tips and a few weeks later, a clearer understanding of men (or should that be pigs?) and more easily able to distinguish a fake boob from the real McCoy.

On my last weekend, Fiona and I were taken to Surfers Paradise by a friend. It was Indy weekend and the place had a huge buzz. Thousands had descended on the Gold Coast town for the race weekend and we were lucky enough to be there.

Our friend, lets call him Eric, had vouchers for a couple of rooms in Jupiters Conrad Casino at Broadbeach - one had views over to the towers of the city and the other had ocean views. It was pretty nice. We ordered room service, drank vintage Moet and dressed up for an evening at the Team Australia party (they had plenty to celebrate as they were in pole position for the big race).

The three of us set off in a stretch limo to meet Eric's friends at the Marriott. There, a small gathering of girls and boys were drinking Moet and having it constantly brought up by room service. They ordered pizza, we ordered Dom Perignon and drank it on the balcony overlooking the city and later watched them do lines of coke in the bathroom - it seemed rather rock and roll.

A few hours later we dragged Eric and two of his friends out. We jumped in another limo (a larger one this time) and headed to find the party. It all seemed a bit much effort - we couldn't see it - and so we ended up heading to Hollywood Showgirls - a very nice Gentleman's club.

The boys ordered more Dom Perignon at the request of Fiona (a lady with fine taste in champagne) and I settled back to watch the very "interesting" stageshows on the catwalk.

Lets just say when we left the club it was daylight. We walked to the beach and then headed back to the casino.

However, here drama and chaos ensused. Eric was annoyed I had not spent time with him and had come back annoyed and worried where I was. Fiona was calming him when I was out of the room when he apparently gave her a slap round the face. He denied it when I walked in - she was screaming at him and overturned some tables, smashed a few things, called him a lot of names, laughed at him and stormed out. I ran after her and we legged it out with a few bottles from the minibar to a cab to the station and a very giggly trainride home.

After a dodgy breakfast, we slept alot that day.

And so, on Tuesday, I headed for Byron Bay. What a contrast - the beach on the doorstep, surfy shops and cool boutiques and everything rather expensive but all rather fun.

There is a terrible backpackers nightclub here - very like the Woolshed in Cairns and Downunder Bar in Brisbane - called Cheeky Monkeys. So I have obviously been there a few times and danced on the tables.

Swedish Jenny arrived on Tuesday evening and so we have caught up on two months worth of gossip.

Yesterday, we went to Nimbim. Around 20 years ago, police in NSW town of Newcastle drove all the hardcore druggies out of the city and they came to Nimbin - an inland town.

Police were beside themselves in Nimbin and came down hard even on the people selling their weed and hash cookies. Eventually, the locals told the police they would drive the druggies out - but only if they were allowed leeway to sell and consume their marjuana. The police agreed, the heroin users were pushed out and a hippy vibe prevails.

Walk around the musuem and be offered cookies, cake, weed, pipes etc etc. Walk down the street and be confronted by old women selling their wares. Walk into souvenir shops for your bongs, pipes, rizzlas of every shape, size, flavour...

Smoke a joint at the bar of the hotel, sign up to legalise cannabis for medical reasons at any number of shops and browse the selection of herbal remedies at Happy High Herbs... that's Nimbin. It's all highly illegal of course and an interesting social experiment. I wonder how long it will last...

And so this evening I complete my circle and arrive back in Sydney (well, ok techincally tomorrow I get there). A 13.5 hr busride. can't wait...

BURMA

2007-10-05T13:30:00.001+10:00

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island of sun and fun

2007-09-29T10:26:00.000+10:00

Travelling to Fraser Island was a mad, bad rollercoaster of an adventure.

The world's largest sand island is accessible only by 4wd, and so it was I found myself piling into the back of a Landcruiser with a group of nine crazy Irish and another English lass, Hannah.

Booking through Beaches, they stuffed up and put me on the wrong day - meaning I had a spare day to cruise around dead-end Hervey Bay when I could have been lazing in 1770. I was not impressed. I kicked up a stink and said it would mean all the things I had booked after (actually nothing) would be stuffed up. They were unsympathetic, unapologetic and unsurprised by the error.

Infact, I found it had happened to my friend Dotti three days earlier and to countless other people.

However, I got up early on the day I was due to go and hung around to see if there were any no-shows. No luck but they ended up kicking off a poor Asian chappy and putting me on instead. Felt rather guilty but was secretly pleased - especially as we had an awesome group.

We drove in convoy with a second cruiser - this one with three Seattle lads, seven Canadian girls and an Aussie lass. Team (North) America and Team Ireland. We were honorary Irish for the weekend which meant one thing - drink. A lot.

After a ferry ride to the island on a miserable Sunday morning, we disembarked and were left to the mercy of the rough sand-tracks. Deep ruts run across Fraser and you're meant to manoeuvre across the island along them. It was not easy.

We were often inching along tracks in convoy and tilting at a frightening angle to one side. Cue everyone in the truck leaning the other way...

Our first stop was Lake Wabby - a green lagoon with rainforest on one side and high hills of sand rolling towards the lake on the other. It was a stunning contrast between the white, desert-like sands and the green of the forest and lake.

We spent a few hours rolling and running down the hills, playing catch and watching the catfish swim around us. As we made to leave, it started to rain so we all ran back into the waters and splashed around until it stopped.

Later, we drove along the eastern beach past a shipwreck, vividly coloured rocks and over washouts and creeks. We had to be at camp at 3.30pm otherwise the tides would be too high.

We just about made it, skirting the incoming tides and ploughing through the soft sand to Cathedral Beach Resort - our base camp. Luxury compared to most 4x4 trips - we had a showerblock, toilets and kitchen at our campground.

Starving hungry, we cooked up a barbecue, put up the two six-man tents and began an evening of drinking. When the lights were turned out at 10pm, we headed down the track to the beach (getting a lift with Team Korea in their pink van) and continued the party and drinking games. Starting early, we were in bed early and unafraid of dingoes, snakes and spiders...

Our second day, we headed to Indian Head - a high outcrop of rock where we could look along the beaches and down into the dangerous waters below to look for whales, sharks and rays. We saw humpbacks in the distance, heading south for summer, dolphins playing in the surf. But no sharks.

Then it was a long walk along the beach and up to Champagne pools. Here, the water crashes over rocks and creates pools of water - the bubbles created by the waves pouring over the stones.

After sunbathing, we headed to Eli creek and sunbathed some more before racing the tide back to base camp by 4pm.

We had a crazy evening - recruiting the newcomers to our teams to play tournaments of the drinking game 'flip cup' with the losers singing songs to the winners. It was a very funny and rowdy evening.

Our last day saw us packing up camp and heading out to some stunning lakes.

We visited Lake Birrabeen - where pure white sand ran into the shallow crystal waters before sloping quickly down into blackness and the lava at the bottom of the lake. The contrast of black, bright blue and white was simply stunning.

After a few games of frisbee, it was then to Lake Mckenzie, the picturesque spot on many postcards. It was far busier with plenty of families and backpackers splashing about in the (once again, crystal-clear) water.

Team North America and we then headed for our ferry. A long wait was cushioned by many games of volleyball/keepy-uppy in which I was generally out by the third or fourth hit... some people are just not cut out for sport...

Shattered, we made our way back to Hervey Bay to return our trusty 4x4s and have a farewell drink or two...

1770

2007-09-26T18:17:00.000+10:00

It is pretty much impossible not to have a good time on the East Coast of Australia. Well that is my experience of the past few weeks anyway. I am truly having a ball.

Since writing about my Whitsunday sailing trip I have flown a plane, driven a chopper (the bike not the whirly kind), sunbathed on stunning beaches, swam in pristine lakes and driven along miles of beach in a 4x4 with some mad Irish people.

1770 is a tiny town where Captain Cook first set foot on Australian soil (in 1770, natch). He may have anchored in Sydney first - but he personally never went ashore. So this stunning spot was named after that historic landing.

The town itself has a permanent population of less than 100, and most tourists stay in the nearby (also very small) town of Agnes Waters.

I arrived with my Chilean friends JP and Claudio, who I met diving, and headed for Cool Bananas hostel. Here, the atmosphere was laid-back and friendly. You could lay in the hammocks all day if you wished, or take part in the plentiful activities. Here, for example, you can learn to surf for $16.50 or take a trip to pristine parts of the barrier reef for very reasonable prices.

I chose to take a 'walk on the wild side' - a jaunt through the bush talking about tucker, snakes and spiders with Scott or the Clay King, as he is self-named. We visited stunning, untouched coves near Agnes Water and learned about the celebrity residents living nearby along with his conspiracy theories of differing degrees of ridiculousness. He painted us with a clay mask which we washed off by jumping from lava rocks into the surf below.

A strange but very nice man, he brought a carpet python he had found the previous week to the hostel that evening for us to see.

Chilean lads JP, Claudio and some Irish lads I met at the hostel all went in for a scooteroo tour of the landscape around 1770. This involved learning how to ride a chopper (motorbike) and chugging around the hills looking for roos. We then hotfooted along a fast road (just 70km an hour mum) to 1770 where we watched sunset with a basket of potato wedges.

The fun didn't end there. The following day, JP, Claudio and I went up in a tiny Cessna plane. Just the three of us and our pilot, Bruce, fit inside. The runway was a stretch of grass...

Bruce was great fun - nose diving the plane and allowing me to take the controls and actually fly the plane. I learned how to bank and go up and down... all the time we were flying over the stunning 1770 estuary - as beautiful as Whitehaven beach at the Whitsundays, watching for whales, sharks and mantas in the seas and looking at the surf below us.

After a while we landed on a pristine and deserted beach on Middle Island. The only was to it is by plane or boat.

After tasting fresh oysters from the rocks, we swapped positions and Claudio took the front seat. My fun wasn't over yet.

I was instructed to unclip my safety belt, put my knees to my chest and wrap my arms about them. Bruce then sent the plane hurtling towards the ground - I was weightless, floating up to the roof of the plane like a spaceman...

My adventures don't stop there. It was off to Hervey Bay next for my Fraser Island adventure but I will post pictures and tales tomorrow...

Sailing the Whitsundays

2007-09-22T16:17:00.000+10:00

I used to dislike doing anything that involved much effort. I liked holidays that involved sunbathing and little else other than a wander to the local bistro or the beach.

Oh, how things have changed. Everything is action-packed at the moment and I'm loving every minute of it.

I decided to chill out at Airlie Beach for a day and check out the options for the sailing trips after the dizzying fun of the wreck dive.

I started looking into being a hostie on a trip, as I did in Cairns, but there seemed to be fewer options for people just passing through. After a bit of research and stress, I opted to go for a more expensive boat trip - but the one which was my gut instinct to join.

And so it was that last Sunday (Sept 16), I set sail on the Matador - the largest maxi yaught ever built and which was undefeated in the races it sailed around 10 years ago.

I say set sail. There was absolutely no wind. The sea was lake-like, glass-like, as flat as a pancake and all the other cliches for really no wind or waves.

The sun was scorching hot and we lay out on deck soaking up the rays and chatting to the crew. There was aussie Pete the skipper, kiwi Ferg as deckhand, Tom our dive instructor and our Canadian hostie Erin.

The first day, we pootled around and got used to the boat as it motored slowly through the 74 islands of the Whitsunday group. It is so called because when Captain Cook sailed past, he thought it was Whitsunday (it was actually Monday).

We moored up at a spot only accessible on days as calm as this and geared up for a 'free' dive. All the certified divers went down together to explore some caves. The coral was a bit lacklustre and it was all a bit rushed and lacking in fish. Being somewhat claustrophobic, the swimthroughs are not my favourite.

After a quick sunbake, I jumped in for a snorkel with Maltese Pete and we found that there was no need to dive. The brightly coloured corals and interesting fish were a metre or less from the surface.

The following day was just as beautifully hot. We motored to a bay on Whitsunday Island and walked through the bush to overlook Whitehaven beach. It has been named the third best beach in the world (who decides these things?) and it is stunning.

Pristine white sand bars swirl through turquoise waters of the bay with the mountains of Whitsunday Island as a backdrop. In the distance are other islands, the gully between two where the pure, immensely fine sand is created.

Down on the beach, the sand squeaked as we padded through it to the waters edge. The sun was scorching down, even at the early hour of the morning. We all ran into the warm, shallow waters and played frisbee.

When the novelty of that wore off, I took myselt back up the beach to sit and ponder and stare. I saw stingrays and mullet patrolling the pools of water left by the outgoing tide. I looked up and saw one of the most beautiful beaches I have seen and reflected on other wonderful beaches I've visited, other sights which have taken my breath away in the last 15 months of travelling. There have been so many and so many moments when I felt so grateful to get the chance to see them.

Back on the boat, we lunched at another bay and then snorkelled more brightly coloured corals - some vivid green, others deep purple. There were soft corals blowing in the gentle current and big boulder-like brain corals and dozens of fish all darting around.

That afternoon, the wind picked up enough to hoist the sails and turn off the motor. We all lent a hand, grinding up the heavy mainsail and the boys pulling up the front one. We leaned gently to the left and all scrambled to the right side of the boat and we were off - cruising gently in the late afternoon light until the sun began to set and we saw its spectacular colours highlight the sky over a mug of goon. And then it was dark and we ate our barbecue on deck, huddled in jumpers with the plates balanced on our laps. Giggling and finding out about each other.

I was lucky - the group were great. There were fellow loners Esther and Peter and French Olivier, Irish couple Anita and Fergal, Danny and Laura from Manchester with mates Liam and Pete, four English girls who had met at uni, a girl from Hong Kong and three Taiwanese.

Our last day was probably the highlight of the trip. Esther, Peter, Olivier and I snorkelled in the bay were we had slept where the area of coral was large and wonderful and hundreds of fish congregated. They included some huge Napolean maori wrasse (around 1m long) which were frightening to catch in the corner of your eye when out snorkelling alone.

Back on board, we began to motor away from the site (which was fast becoming peopled with other pleasure and charter boats)when we saw a mother whale and her calf edging along the shallows of the island. We followed them for a while, watching the bay breach again and again and the mother once throwing herself out joyfully, then overtook them and killed the motor.

Within a few minutes they were swimming our way, surfacing at the rear of the boat - the mother vast and barnacled - far huger than those I've seen anywhere else. She was a giant.

We followed them for some time and then set sail back to land. That day the wind had picked right up and we were able to stream along at a speed of around 12 knots - the boat tilting far over to the right so that the wire rails skimmed the water and we had to hang over the other side to balance.

My first introduction to sailing was an immense amount of fun. If anything, we just wanted to stay on the boat and swim and snorkel in the perfect weather for longer.

Diving the SS Yongala

2007-09-15T12:03:00.000+10:00

I left Cairns on Wednesday - a little worse for wear due to the previous day being my birthday. 26. I'm now closer to 30 than 20. Oh god.

But I managed to haul my granny arse onto the Greyhound bus and make the seven hour trip to Ayr, a tiny town south of Townsville.

After an interesting taxi ride (I had $29.60 on me but the cab driver took me the whole way - despite it being about a $35 ride - oops!) to the dive lodge, I discovered the owners hadn't left me the key to the accommodation...

But after searching spider-webbed boxes, ashtrays, under plants and over ledges, I banged on the door and was let in. The accommodation for divers at Yongala dive is great - polished wooden floors, soft cream sofas, fluffy blankets and character-laden features. Already staying there were hostie Paulina, Chilean guys JP and Claudio, fellow Brit Laura and Israeli Dotti - all young and fun.

The dive day began early with a bit of breakfast and heading downstairs to the dive shop to choose our gear. We met the rest of the passengers - some older aussies - and after a bit of a briefing ("don't go inside the wreck", "don't get eaten by sharks", "do have fun"), we made our way to the beach in an old, bumpy landcruiser.

After a bit of dune bashing in the truck, we saw the boat levered off the trailer into the water on this deserted and totally unspoilt beach.

The boat is tiny - a little turquoise speedboat - which took us off the beach at between 25-30 knots.

The weather was perfect. Low winds of about 10 knots, and virtually pancake-flat seas. The sun was hot but not blisteringly so.

As we hurtled out to sea, we saw whales playing in the distance. The were throwing themselves out of the water and thumping down into the water on their backs. Flicking their tails out as a final flourish.

When we reached the dive site, we geared up in the tiny space and rolled backwards off the sides into the water. We had to haul ourselves along the mooring line because the current was so strong.

And then we were descending into the blue, pulling ourselves downwards on the line as we faced into the strong current. Deeper and deeper until we could see the top of the wreck looming below us. And there it was - the stern of the ship as she lay on her side. She is absolutely covered in corals.

It was hard to take it all in on the first dive. The current was strong and we battled against it while trying to comprehend the amount of fish, the colours of the corals, the size of everything.

Huge Maori wrasse swam inches from our faces, large shovel-nosed rays skimmed the sand below us. Bat fish darted around us and huge parrotfish nibbled at the corals. A two metre shark rested inside the hull. We swam through schools of smaller fish like yellow-tailed fusiliers as they swam around the mighty wreck.

As we approached the bow of the ship, the current was ridiculously strong but we battled it to get to the mooring line at the front of the boat - hard work but worth it. When we turned around we saw a huge grouper looming over the bow. He was enormous - at least 5ft long.

After an interval with tea, cakes and plenty of fruit, we descended for the second time. This time the current was not so strong but the visibility had worsened slightly. This time we could get up close to the corals, look inside at the toilets and bath and explore over and around more thoroughly.

And then it was over and it was back up to the boat and to whisk us back to the beach in the hot sunshine.

After dropping off and washing off the gear, we had a lovely barbecue in the sunshine. The older divers left and us younger ones were left to chill out in the sun and enjoy the accommodation before having a few drinks to celebrate an awesome day.

So thanks to all my family who contributed to my birthday present - you're the best

Rainforests and reef

2007-09-07T12:41:00.000+10:00

The landscape around Cairns is truly beautiful. While the city focuses on partying and thrills and spills of rafting, bungy jumps, skydives and diving the barrier reef, there are more peaceful ways to spend the days.

And so, last week, I hopped aboard a Jungle Tours bus to Cape Tribulation. There were just five of us and our guide Shane, a true Aussie bloke - mad on his beer, the outdoors, going crazy.

We stopped off at Mossman Gorge and walked a short way through the rainforest on a warm but wet day, looking at strangler fig trees and the weird and wonderful canopy before jumping up and down across an unsteady rope bridge and taking a dip in the freezing, fast-flowing river - much to the surprise and amusement of the tourists walking past.

After passing sugarcane fields being cut and the mountains covered in forests, we stopped at the Daintree river for a croc-spotting cruise. We floated past exotic birds in the rainforest, salties sunning themselves on the banks and spotted a small tree snake before meeting our driver by the river ferry.

Then it was onwards towards Cape Trib with a quick stop for lunch at Cape Kimberley. I stayed at Cape Tribulation Beach House - dozens of huts nestled into the rainforest - about as far as you can stay into the wilderness.

The beach was right next to the accommodation - a long stretch of sand fringed by the rainforest and with mountains plunging into the trees in the background. Cape Trib - the tree-covered outcrop was to the right, behind mangroves and a short walk away.

Jedd, Yanika and I explored the beach and walked through the forest to another beach. The skies were stormy but it was still warm.

There was very little to do at Cape Trib but relax. The following day, the three of us set out on a walk to a swimming hole but ended up hitching a lift in the back of a ute up to the creek - it was a hilly 5km walk otherwise and even my games couldn't encourage Yanika and Jedd to enjoy the walk.

We were pretty much alone at the swimming hole - which was in a secluded part of the creek a few minutes walk through the forests.

Downstream from the road were plenty of crocs, but upstream, the cold, clear waters were safe to swim in with the sun glinting through the trees. We clambered upstream for a bit, me getting freaked out by a weird dead spider that I needed about 15m space to get around.

We hitched a lift back in a camper driven by a couple from Adelaide - just in time as the heavens opened and it poured down.

Jedd and Yanika left and I spent an evening reading, relaxing and eating followed by a similar thread the next day - sunbathing when the sun shone on the beach, and running to the virtually open-air restaurant when it poured down.

The cassowary bird

In my last few minutes at Cape Trib I saw the famed but endangered cassowary bird - an ancient emu-like bird which is my height, quite fierce and which can rip you guts out if it feels threatened. It was just sauntering along the path through the huts at the beach house.

Returning back to Cairns saw a celebratory return to civilisation with a big night out...

On Sunday (Sept 2), I woke up feeling shocking - a bad throat and sore ears - not a good day to start hostie-ing on a dive boat. I rocked up to Deep Sea Divers Den nonetheless and kept my fingers crossed they would let me join the trip and dive.

The next few days were tough - I was ill, tired constantly and not myself but I still managed to have a ball on the boat. The crew were just awesome and I discovered that diving actually helped my tonsilitis - must have been the salt water.

We stuck mainly to Norman Reef as the winds were too high to move to Saxon or Hastings reef. Ocean Quest is their large liveaboard boat which stays out at the reef while Reef Quest ferries passengers from Cairns to the outer reef.

The first dive was pretty awful - I was shattered - the winds were high and we had to swim on the surface quite far to the mooring line. My fins were loose, my mask leaked and I wasn't weighted properly. My buddy was panicking and the vis was bad.

But I righted the situation with a guided night dive - a calming swim through the blackness which ended perfectly - looking up the mooring lines and seeing white tip sharks circling under the boat's spotlight and, as we ascended, watching them swim past just a metre or two away.

Other dives were just as awesome with some spectacular corals and wonderful fish. Not all were great visibility but those that were, were stunning dives. We saw huge potato cod, huge pufferfish, dozens of triggerfish, clown fish, sharks, lionfish, rays etc. There wasn't the diversity of Phi Phi in Thailand, but the corals were often so so beautiful.

The last dive, I went in early with the chef Lurch and he guided me around the twin Peaks site at Saxon reef - a wonderful wonderful dive where we saw so much becuause no one else had disturbed the site and we were able to see sharks lying on the sandy ocean floor - quite unbothered by us.

Sadly, after 12 great dives, it was over and back to land. I had done some great diving, eaten delicious food and slept in the crew cabin under the water for three nights in return for a bit of washing up, making beds and cleaning a few bathrooms.

It took me about two days to stop feeling like I was constantly on the boat and to get back to normal and feel better.

But now it's time for the next adventure - on down the East Coat - to Ayr for a a dive at the SS Yongala wreck...

Uluru to Cairns - from rock to reef

2007-08-25T18:19:00.000+10:00

The last few days have been a whirlwind - but certainly a spectacular one.

My camera broke the day before my trip to Uluru (Ayres Rock). The poor battered thing, which had already broken twice during this trip, finally gave up after parts Darwin's Mindil Beach decided to escape to more exotic climes.

Luckily, I was able to buy a new one before my trip - I was literally weeping on the man's arm as I handed over the money.

But it was certainly worth it.

On Tuesday, I joined 13 fellow travellers and tour guide Ryan on The Rock Tour - a three day jaunt from Alice Springs.

We had a brilliant group - funny and lovely couple Chris and Carly, hilarious Italian Francesco, teens Carly and well-travelled Jess, Oirish Dave and Michelle, watercolour whizz Esther and German boy Jo and four Japanese whose names we never really caught onto - but who were very lovely too.

Our first stop (after a five hour bus ride) was King's Canyon. Here, we climbed a very steep rock with a gorge on the left and the canyon with cliffs 270m high on the right. The difference? A gorge is formed by a river cutting through the rock over millions of years. A canyon is made when water seeps through cracks in the rock which widen until the roof eventually caves in. Apparently.

Apparently, this also means the Grand Canyon is actually a gorge...

After a hike to the rugged, rocky top, looking at imprints of jellyfish and ripples made in the rock when central Australia was a sea, we descended into a lush ravine called the Garden of Eden.

Here, the brave went for a very quick dip in a very, very cold pool surrounded by the sand-coloured cliffs. Chris went first, I followed, then Carly and Carly. It was refreshing... it took your breath away.

After peering over the edge, we made it back to the van and headed to forage for wood for our campfire.

We set up camp for the night on a 1.1 million acre cattle ranch (size of Holland). Basically, in the middle of nowhere.

Miles from the nearest town, shop, campsite, toilet.

We piled up the logs and lit bark to get the fire going, chopped veggies and cooked chilli in the ashes of the fire. We sat on our rolled up swags and drank beer or goon and huddled closer to the flames as the daytime heat disappeared into the night sky and the temperature plummeted.

Later, we rolled out our swags - canvas bodybags with a flap to pull over your face.

We tucked our shoes underneath so dingoes couldn't grab them and pushed our sleeping bags inside and crawled into them. Ever fearful of bugs, spiders and snakes and with the moon ablaze, I pulled the canvas flap over my face - it felt like being in a coffin.

Sleep was therefore fitful and in the early hours, I woke and pulled the flap off my face. I lay back and looked up at the night sky. The moon had disappeared and billions of stars winked back at me. A blanket. A canopy. Everything you imagine that you can't imagine in a country so clogged with light pollution as Britain.

Just a short time later, our cheeky chappy guide woke us up. The fire was blazing for our toast. It was 5am.

By just after six, we were packed up and ready to hit the road. It was a two-hour drive to pick up more logs for the fire and check into Ayres Rock resort - the only place to camp in the Uluru-Kata-Tjuta national park.

It was our first glimpse of the red rock Uluru. It's hard to describe. Deep red in colour, weathered by rivers of water in rainy periods and rising startlingly and steeply from the flat plains.

Our morning was set aside for visiting Kata-Tjuta, which means 'many heads' and otherwise known as the Olgas.

These huge dome shapes are made up of millions of rocks, cememted together with dirt and time. They are the only things other than Uluru for miles which rise from the semi-arid desert of the red centre.

Aboriginal tales tell that children were playing in the dirt and wanted to take all the stones out. So they threw them over their shoulders - and created Kata-Tjuta. Then they made a mud patty with the dirt - and created Uluru. Better than the mind-blowingly weird geology that some scientists have come up with.

The freezing temperatures of the night had all but disappeared when we arrived - and within minutes of our walk, it was baking hot.

We walked through the Valley of the Winds and up a steep cliff in the centre and sat and looked out. Behind us was a winking face in the rocks - carved out by mysterious erosion and at the centre of an Aboriginal story about a medicene man who lived there who sent a devil dog to Uluru.

After lunch, we visited the cultural centre which included a 'sorry' book with letters from hundreds of people who had taken stones from the rock, or climbed it, and who had returned them. Many had had bad luck ever since...

And then we were driving towards the rock. Listening to 80s power ballads. It towered above us. Rust-red. Flaking like old iron. But all one huge piece of sandstone which sinks at least 7km below the desert plains.

Ryan took us on the Malu walk - showing us places that had been classrooms, a kitchen, a sacred wedding-bell shaped cavern where women had given birth. Shockingly, this had been used for wedding pictures in the 1970s. Now, noone takes pictures as it is too sacred. It takes away from the spirit of the place for the indiginous people.

"And then a big cheeseman came bursting out of the rock..." Err ok Ryan.

We beat a retreat to a spot a few kms from the rock to watch sunset, drink a glass of goon or two (next to a few busloads of people drinking champers and hors d'oeurves) and eat a tasty supper after the other groups had long gone.

Allegedly, the rock turns 21 shades at sunset - but I took about 600 pics and it looks red, very red, bright red, dark red, purple, black, very black to me.

Then it was back to the campsite for more goon, giggles and 80s uplifiting power songs courtesy of Chris.

Hangover or no hangover, it was up at 5am again to see sunrise at Uluru. We cunningly escaped the crowds by returning to the bus sunset viewing place and avoiding the throngs at the sunrise spot. Instead of seeing the colours of the sky as the sun rose behind us, we saw the sun rise to the side of Uluru; first silhouetting it and then slowly lighting it.

We ate breakfast in the dawn light from the back of the trailer and drank hot tea huddling the cups in the frosty morning.

But there was no let up. It was then to the base of Uluru again. This time, we had free time to climb or to walk the circuit around it. Those who climbed had to hold onto a low steel chain to haul themselves up the steep walls. It looked thoroughly dangerous and is highly disrespectful to the Aborginal people.

Sadly, it was the end of our trip. Carly, Chris, Jess, Dave, Michelle and I all left from Uluru airport while the others returned to Alice.

From the airstrip, you can see Uluru and Kata-Tjuta and as you take off, you fly low over the desert. The patterns made by trees and rocks and dried rivers look remarkably like Aboriginal paintings.

And now I'm in tropical Cairns where the tree-covered mountains run towards the clear blue sea. Here, I will work on a dive boat for four days and am allowed to dive for free, eat and sleep for free in return for washing up and a bit of cleaning.

The Rock is a distant memory - but a bloody great memory at that.

Kakadu and busy days in Darwin...

2007-08-21T16:17:00.000+10:00

I've been trekking. Not that you'd know from my waistline - which is roughly growing from a muffin-top into a mushroom...

Yes, I braved the wilds and went to Kakadu national park for three days. Sleeping in the bush, hunting for spiders, seeing snakes - I've done it all.

I joined a tour - an expensive but easy option for getting to see and do everything and learn all about the nature and history and so on. And so, in Indiana Jones get up, I took to the road with Kakadu 4wd safaris accompanied by Andy, our tour guide, Young Oli (who came to be known by me as Princess), a Danish couple Louisa and Thomas and a family of five from Somerset.

The tour began with a jumping croc cruise on the Adelaide River. We were huddled intoa 'boat' which was basically a tin can with a few rails around the outside and a small engine on the back...

Almost immediately afer we had left the jetty, we began to see crocs. Crocodiles are much more dangerous than alligators, we were told, and the saltwater variery are particularly deadly. And hungry. And we were literally surrounded by the beasts.

Curious reptiles, at the sound of a splash, they will immediately be over to investigate their next meal. Large ones will happily drag a horse or a buffalo into the murky depths of the river. They would have happily got their mouth around my leg, or arm.

As we dangled small pieces of meat over the edge on a pole, we could hear the massive power of their jaws as they chomped at it - lifting themselves high out of the water to feed.

The largest we saw was Hannibal - a massive croc well over the length of our boat - and around 8m long. He is estimated to be about 80 years old and is as gnarled and fearsome looking as a dragon.

We were so close to them as they swam around us and it was just terrifying. They would tear you apart in seconds.

Then it was off to Kakadu. We stopped at Maguk (Barramundi Gorge), a place where a pretty waterfall ran between stone cliffs and surrounded by jungle. Very beautiful. Andy showed us plants like the milkwood tree which is an antiseptic and which he treated my work-related cuts with and stopped them becoming tropical ulcers.

We swam in the gorge (only freshwater crocs here!) and then headed for Jim Jim billabong where we set up our tents, built a campfire and cooked roast chook and veggies on the fire. Then it was time to go looking for bugs - shining our torches on the ground to see wolf spiders, cane toads and even look for crocs down at the billabong edge before listening to Andy play the didge and hearing a dreamtime Aboriginal story around the fire.

Sleep saw me thrashing around in my sleeping bag escaping the crocs and spiders...

We rose just before sunrise and prepared for a long walk - we had to climb to the top of Jim Jim falls on the Arnhem plateau.

The falls crash over 150m of cliff face into deep plunge pool. It is only accessible during the dry winter season and by the time we arrived, there was not even a trickle fallling down the cliff. However, the 16km walk up steep cliffs, through savannah woodlands, over the rocky plateau and swimming in billabongs and across (what during the wet season is) river beds was well worth the amazing view. We looked down at the top of Jim Jim from above and then climbed down to the top of the falls where we could swim in the freezing and deep pool.

We lay on the rocks where the water pounds in summer and peeked over the edge to the people swimming in the pool far, far below.

Unfortunately, Louisa had sprained her ankle at the start of the walk but soldiered on slowly. By the end of the day she was half-walking, half being carried by Thomas and so it was dark by the time we crossed the riverbed at the base of the falls and made our way back to the car. It was a tough day's walk anyway.

Driving back along the rocky 4x4 track back to camp, we saw an olive python. Througout the day, Andy had shown us bushtucker and how to eat it including large ants with green bums - the green being a citrusy-flavoured acid.

Our third day was spent visiting Yellow water billabong (more crocs), visiting some rock art sites and learning about Aboriginal history and swimming in a billabong - one of the view guarenteed not to have salties in it.

The whole trip was great but Kakadu is massive and we only saw a small part of it. Jim Jim aside, I felt it lacked the grandeur of Karinjini or Kalberri or the grace of Katherine gorge. Most of the drives, we just saw woodlands stretching for miles and the billabongs, while teeming with things for twitchers and even croc-spotters, did sort of look like large ponds.

Kakadu aside, I've been working all the hours I can in Monty's cafe in Darwin centre and at Discovery nightclub and Lost Ark bar. I loved this bar job - chatting to customers, having a laugh with the staff and bands that play, hearin great music and being bought drinks... but it has killed me and meant I've spent little time with the girls.

Sad, because I have now left Darwin. I spent 24 hours on a bus to Alice Springs after a final farewell party on Mindil Beach with Jemma, Jen, Jen, Timmy, Dave, Gary, Tom and so on before partying at the Lost Arc.

Now, I'm off on my own again - and ready for my next adventure. Uluru....

Sunny Darwin, rainy Gloucester

2007-07-25T18:34:00.000+10:00

My parents have no power or drinking water and my friends are stranded in their homes in Gloucester... meanwhile I bask in 32C heat in Darwin. It's summer in England - winter in Oz...

Hmm going home suddenly seems so tempting. Of course, I'm missing out on the journalistic fun of it all and the cameraderie and solidarity of the Blitz spirit the brits usually display.

Normally, the people of Gloucester would be punching each other outside Liquid, moaning about everything and pushing their babies to their mums house on the way to school...

Instead, they are cheering the arrival of the army, getting their local rag delivered by canoe (seriously) and not taking showers.

Some of the pictures of the floods are crazy but if you will build half a city the flood plain of the River Severn... and as my dad put into perspective - 200 people were killed in floods recently in China but people getting their Barretts platforms a little wet in Gloucester are going mad.

Here in Darwin life is all about making enough cash to avoid having to return to Gloucester until December. So I'm working a cafe job, a nightclub job and doing casual events waitressing seven days a week.

Hours off (those rare ones) involve resting, sleeping, the odd moment of sunbathing or drinking.

English Jen's birthday was celebrated by us dressing as pirates and hitting the 'city'. Darwin is a large country town with two decent clubs and isn't a dissimilar size to the 'city' of Gloucester...

And like my hometown, you don't want to swim in the water here. Crocs to worry about in one city and skin-scalding pollution in the other.

The centre consists of a couple of supermarkets, about two fashion shops, a few pharmacys and eateries and souvenir shops.

But it has a lovely laid-back atmosphere, nice architecture and friendly people. There are swimming pools everywhere due to the intense heat, a deckchair cinema, wonderful markets twice a week by the beach. Last week, we went to watch the sunset on Mindil beach and wandered the markets where you can buy every kind of food under the sun and all kinds of trinkets.

So I may not be a hotshot journo covering the water crisis in Gloucester, but at least I'm warm. And dry.

Broometime to Darwin

2007-07-14T19:04:00.000+10:00

Broome passed by in a bit of a blur. There is a saying up here that you slip into Broometime - and things just float along at their own pace. It's a bit like Thai-time.

Broome was packed full of holidaying families and backpackers but in a good way. We spent our days lying on Cable Beach - a wonderful curve of golden sand where you can watch the sun dip into the water and turn the sky every shade of the rainbow - catching up on sleep and meeting new people.

The four of us - me, Swedish Jenny, Jenny and Dan - headed to the races on Saturday. It was hardly Ascot or Cheltenham. More like Stroud races - which basically means hillbilly and local. But amusing.

Dan and I gambled our life savings (well, we put down $2 bets on each race which amounts to the same thing) and lost and won enough to come out vaguely on top, and we watched the locals parade their attire, perform belly dancing and line dancing and even a fashion show.

That night, we partied at Oasis, a nightclub open to the stars and with the worst DJ I have ever, ever heard in my life.

I met up with a friend from Perth, Lisa, and we saw dozens of people we'd met on our trip up the coast and eventually moved to a part of the caravan park (Robeuck park) where backpackers were hidden away from the general public. Here, we could play our guitars, drink, sing and not cause tooooo much offence.

It was lively, fun and too easy to get caught up in.

But we had to hit the road again to make it to Darwin. We picked up Belgian Joran to help with costs (and weigh us down more) and left hot, sunny Broome. So far we have travelled a great distance, covering the rest of northern WA in this time.

More than 1,000km from Broome now in two days, we have passed through dull flat terrain and great rugged red mountains. We've seen Boab trees - relatives of African trees which have huge barrel-like trunks and funny, sticky out branches, crossed dozens of dry creeks and passed through Aboriginal communities. Many of these are actually closed off to visitors unless you have a pass.

We spent a night at Halls Creek, the nearest town to Wolfe Creek, and managed to avoid a riot from the boys who wanted to take our hire car offroad to get a picture at said town - just for the horror film kudos.

Instead, we diverted them to Turkey Creek (Warun) where all except Joran took a 45-minute helicopter ride over the amazing Bungle Bungles (Purnululu National Park). The experience of flying over the plains below was worth every penny - but to skim over the craggy mountains and see the plate-like ridges below, soar over the dome-shaped huge mountains as they stretched below like a carpet, and delve into deep gorges, was just breath-taking.

The road to the huge red and black-striped domes is very bumpy and hardly suitbale for even a 4x4 so our Ford Falcon was just not going to make that trip. It's hard to believe that such a world treasure (it has been UNESCO listed along with sites such as the Grand Canyon, Great Barrier Reef etc) is so remote and so little visited.

In the distance we could see the distant mountains raped for the rich diamonds deep inside, and which have just two years left of mining in them. We saw remote Aboriginal settlements and the cattle ranches around the national park. It was such an experience.

Our next stop was Wyndham - a historic town at the end of the famous Gibb River Road (the remote 4x4 track through the Kimberley) where five rivers meet. We climbed to the top of a mountain (well we drove 3/4 of the way up...) to a wonderful viewpoint over the peaceful wide rivers. Remarkable to see so much water even in the dry season.

Later, we drove to Kununurra and stopped at a posh campsite for the night where we were clearly not welcome - being young and backpackers, and because there were five of us and we only paid for four...

But the attitude of the staff and even the other guests there was just appalling. Being young and travelling quite often gets you crap customer service in Oz.

So we moved to a smaller, friendlier, rougher campsite in Kununurra the next night and then explored. We visited Lake Argyle, a huge man-made lake, where the government flooded acres and acres of cattle ranches. There are still the tops of mountains above the lake which make it a peaceful spot.

On Sunday we crossed the border into the Northern Territory and made it to Katherine. The drive was wonderful this last few days with such changing scenery - from rugged outcrops in the Kimberley to the dry, flat lands in the Northen Territory.

In Katherine, we hiked a loooong way through the national park to stunning gorges where we could swim safely - despite the presence of freshies (crocodiles). We had to keep away from their nests but were told they were otherwise relatively (!) harmless.

After an 8km hike down to the gorge, we spent a few hours jumping off a high rock into the waters below surrounded by the cliffs of the gorges. Another hike took us to a different swimming area in the river - this time clambering over massive boulders and past dry waterfalls. We were shattered when we arrived. So, after a dip to cool down, we "bribed" a boat trip to take us back with them!

Now we are in Darwin - which seems like a really lovely place even if the "clubs" are shocking. It's now time to get a job or ship out for me. Time is running out for me in Australia when there is money to be earned and the rest of the east coast to see...

More whales, more wine...

2007-07-08T20:19:00.000+10:00

It has been a wonderful few busy days.

Western Australia is so remote, so wild, so wonderful... There are virtually unexplored areas, long straight roads through desert-like scrubland, huge cattle ranches and rocky hills, hillbilly towns centred around a single bar and shop...

Our last few days in Exmouth were great fun. The whale sharking was postponed twice due to bad weather - but we saw a terrific sunrise during one early morning wake-up, and we managed to fill in the greyer days regardless.

We visited beaches around the area and watched sunset from a lighthouse, bought snorkels and saw a family of emus rummaging near some bins, saw a dugong (a sort of cross between a dolphin, seal and elephant!) at Lakeside beach and did a fantastic drift snorkel at Turqoise Bay. The latter involved floating along with the strong current looking at the corals, huge parrotfish, bannerfish, Moorish idols, butterfly fish etc.

I lost Dan and Jenny at one point and then spotted... a shark! Not a huge one but big enough when you're on your own. The current is very strong so you have to jump out before the sand bar - or risk being whisked out to sea.

Dan went on a fishing trip and caught us some tuna, snapper and we had a big fish barbecue when he returned. And then there was a bit of a panic when Caroline realised on Monday evening that her flight was on Tuesday and not Wednesday.

So a panic ensued to get her money back from the whale shark trip while we blew up balloons, bought cake and a present, party poppers and prepared some food. Not the easiest task when we'd been drinking sangria all afternoon to ward off the boredom of a rainy day.

We all popped on party hats and had a good giggle in the camp kitchen of the caravan park before heading out to The Pub - one of two pubs in town (the other is called The Tavern - original).

Here we met some locals on a night out. The oldest guy in the pub - in very short shorts - bought us a bottle of champagne to celebrate and then took Dan off "yo make a man of him" at the bar. He promptly asked Dan which of us he could have... Oh dear.

He'd asked us if we were on a Hen party to which we laughed and shrieked "God can you imagine!". There was a hen party behind us. Right next to her husband-to-be's stag do...

After a comedy end to the night (Stag to me: 'are you coming back to mine for a party'? 'No.' 'Fuck off then'), we fell into our tents for a sleep.

The next morning we waved goodbye to Caroline and crossed our fingers that we would get to go snorkelling with Whale Sharks today. Luckily the day was warm and sunny so we piled onto the minibus with the Village Dive crew and headed out to the beach.

Not much is known about whale sharks except that they can dive to more than 1,000 metres, and can grow as large as 18m. Ningaloo is one of the only places in the world they regularly visit. They have been around for around 250 million years and can live to 100 years or more.

The largest ever caught was a pregnant female at 18m long and she had 350 babies at different stages of growth inside her.

The trip was amazing. It started with a quick snorkel in the inner reef before heading through a break in the huge waves crashing from the outer to the inner reef - all of us hanging on for dear life as the little boat was rocked around by the mighty power of the swell.

We'd been warned we may not get a call from the spotter plane for hours but within minutes of finishing the snorkel we had the call. So a race between all the tour operators ensued. Luckily, we had one of the two fastest boats and got to the spot third.

Snorkellers jump in in groups on 10 and spend a few minutes with the shark before stopping and the second group go in and then the next dive boat get a turn etc.

It was very chaotic. I was the last off the boat and had to swim swim swim for my life to catch up - forgetting I had arms and just powering away with my feet. I kept popping my head up to see the spotters arm infront of us and the powered forward with all my strength. I was so concentrated on swimming the tough, long route that I missed it. Doh!

But our luck was in. Even though it was the end of the season for spotting these beasts, five were spotted because it was the first warm and sunny day in a while so the cold-blooded fish were rising to just below the surface to warm themselves. Any false move from us could see it diving back into the depth of the reef in seconds. When they want to, these beasts move fast.

Our time swimming with the sharks was extended each time - keeping a firm 3m from it and 4m from its powerful tail. It was all a bit frantic - people fins coming down on heads, salt water pouring down the snorkels, and actually finding it.

The largest we saw was 5m and the smallest - an inquisitive baby - 3m. That time I dashed off after the spotter first and banged into her when she stopped and started swimming in the other direction. So I followed. "It's behind you guys!" she yelled at us. I popped my head up. "It's behind you!" I turned around. "Put your head in the water!" Oh that's where it is! Coming straight for me....

In between our frantic swimming sessions (to keep up with the buggers), we saw humpbacks and a manta. And then suddenly it was time to go for a late lunch of huge prawns and salads and so on. A great day.

Fired me up totally for diving again and poked back my idea to do my divemasters course in Thailand and work there for a season...

Our next adventure was a loooong drive to Karinjini National Park. I drove for about five hours from Exmouth towards Tom Price, watching in amazement at the changing landscape - thick green bushland, flat plains with humps of deep red hills rising suddenly from the dry grass, huge boulders making mountains, brown dirt, red dirt, yellow dirt, long straight roads...

Dan then took over and we arrived in Tom Price just after nightfall. This is the Pilbara region where there are huge mines extracting iron ore from the world's oldest concentration of rocks.

It was freezing at night and we virtually caught our deaths overnight in the tents. But the next day was hot as we set off for the national park. We attempted to drive the unsealed road to Oxes Lookout - a meeting of four gorges - but we got a puncture and decided it was wise to head back to tarmac.

So we went to Dales Gorge which was stunning. We walked down to Circular Pool where Dan had a freezing swim and we ate our lunch and then walked along the floor of the gorge. Except that we crossed the river in the wrong place and found ourselves negotiating what must be an animal track, with thin ledges to edge across and stones to cling to... we had to turn back...

But we made it to the pretty Fortescue Falls and nearby stunning Fern Pool before heading back up the gorge, seeing a wild dingo and heading to a roadhouse.

Here we thought it wise to spend the night as cattle stand in the middle of the road to Port Headland at night, worrying even the road train drivers. But we made new friends - a group of drillers who had a huge camp fire and invited us to share beers and chat while learning the didge and looking at the southern skies at night - virtually unpolluted by light. Stunning.

Then it was another looong drive to Broome via Port Headland. But here we are in Broome and it's hot and sunny...

Ah the west coast...

2007-06-28T19:43:00.000+10:00

Last blow-out in Perth with my Danielle

Have been on the road for a week now, travelling north from Perth through the wilds of Western Australia. Life in these parts can be very rural and 'local'.

Well that's half the luggage in...

After a bit of a cock-up with the hire car and a swap of cars, we left late on Monday, July 16 and headed for nearby Quinn's Rock - about an hour and half north of Perth centre. We managed to put our tents up in the dark and get a half-decent, if very cold, night's sleep and work our gas stoves in the morning for a cuppa and pasta and sauce.

Then we headed up to Cervantes, a small town near the Pinnacles desert. Near the sea, it is a sandy landscape covered in phallic shaped pinnacles of varying sizes - all very eerie as the sun set.

The roads can be very straight, with bush extending as far as the eye can see in all directions, the odd car passing on the other side, many dead kangaroos on the hard shoulders, road trains and red sandy earth.

We spent the following day travelling to Horrocks Beach - a tiny town by the sea past the weird 'local town for local people' Geraldton. It seemed that way to us anyway.

We arrived as the sun was setting (below) and found a cabin on the campsite for the night. The next morning we walked along the deserted beach soaking up the sun.

After visting the pink salt lakes at Port Headland (something to do with beta carotene), we visited the weird and wonderful independent Hutt River Province.

The farmers here had a dispute with the aussie government back in the 1970s over wheat prices or something similar, and declared themselves independent.

Down a rough and dusty red road, the province is pretty tiny and the 'capital' consists of a toilet block, a few rough and ready homes, a tea room, gift shop/museum, a chapel and a post office complete with their own stamps, visa passport stamps, national anthem and money. Very very weird, not least because it was not at all tongue-in-cheek. Princess Shirley (below), who showed us around, was not laughing at all.

Then we headed for Kalbarri - a pretty town next to a national park full of impressive gorges and rock formations. We spent a couple of nights here chilling out and investigating the gorges and spending evenings with a couple of Brit lads and a Swedish girl we had befriended. One of the lads broke my camera at the Hutt River Province by dropping it in sand...

It was then a haul up the coast to Denham at Shark Bay. The bay area is a conservation zone and is rich in marine wildlife and geology etc. We stopped off at the Stromalites, weird 'living' rocks made by bacteria that apparently hold the key to evolution, and Shell Beach - a huge crescent of tiny shell dunes.

Denham itself is a small, fairly decent town but the major attraction here is Money Mia - a place wild dolphins have come to the beach everyday for decades. So we popped over there to see which of the regulars turned up for a fish or two and saw two females and a baby. Very cute.

On a walk around the headland afterwards we saw red kangaroos too - a bit of a wildlife bonza.

After Denham, we made a long trip up to Coral Bay - the start of the Ningaloo reef. We spent a few nights here. The weather is now hot enough to sunbathe and we;ve ditched the mulit-layering needed to camp at night and scarves and hats have been consigned to the bottom of the rucksacks.

Coral Bay saw us snorkelling off the aptly named Paradise Beach - an unspoilt stretch where the reef lies just metres from the shore.

Now we are at Exmouth and are to dive with whale sharks tomorrow and hopefully see some manta rays, dugongs, sharks etc. It's not a bad life...

Whales and wine...

2007-06-12T13:16:00.000+10:00

A humpback whale plays around our boat

Sniffing the bouquet, savouring the flavour, inspecting the colour - three odd wine experts - or should that be winos?

So a fair amount has happened in the past few weeks.

My brother has been to vist and gone, I've seen some fantastic wildlife, got lost twice, worked hard and played hard. All in all - quite a lot of fun.

I finished up work - both the bar and reception/admin jobs - last week when my brother Jonathan arrived on Wednesdat. After a long flight from the UK to Perth via Singapore, we decided the best course of action was food and drink - of the alcholic variety of course.

After snacking on bread and dips with Danielle, we moseyed to the lovely Moon Cafe on William Street to share a pizza, tales of everything and anything and to induct Jon into Aussie beer and wine.

After, we headed to Mustang bar with the Britannia backpacker bunch for some more alcofrol, dancing, a band and to introudce Jonny to another of the great backpacker joys - Jaegermeister.

The lightweights (Jon and Danielle) went home while I headed to Black Betty's for another dance, only to return home after an hour and find my sozzled younger brother, who had bailed due to jetlag, had been boozing in the courtyard with some other retirees.

The next day, Jon and I set out to see the (limited) sights of Perth. I took him through town (via a few shops to buy a coat - poor lad) down London Court and to Barrack Street Jetty where we sat and had a coke in the sunshine overlooking Swan River.

We then meandered up the steep hill to King's Park and ate wedges and looked at the stunning view, did the treetop walk and up the DNA tower (a big spiral staircase). At the top, a post in the middle pointed out the scenic parts of Perth - a tower block masquerading as a hospital, the Kwinana freeway, another hospital, rottnest island (too far to be seen)... and so on. Gotta love their enthusiasm for the drab.

We then headed to Subiaco in the rain to find some food. After a long walk throught he 'burbs we found a pub still serving ridiculously expensive food and shared some bruschetta and fries before heading around the pretty funky area to see what we could see.

A train home, picking up some Hare Krishna $2.50 veggie wonderfood on the way, snuggling on the sofa with Danielle and early bed...

On Friday, Jon and I headed to Fremantle - or Freo as the locals love to call it.

We had coffee on 'cappucino strip' - a road of mid-western style buildings with overpriced coffee shops, Italian eateries and self-satisified rich people dining out. Although the previous day and been miserably cold and wet, the sun was shining brightly in Freo and we were able to wander around happily in the sunshine to the weekend markets, the parks, the anchors embedded near the waterfront and around the harbour.

We popped into the odd Shipwreck Galleries which were far more dull than they sound, and then headed to a famous fish and chip place for some nosh.

The weather turned stormy as we headed to the E-shed markets and the Maritime museum for brother to check out the architecture, so we caught the free CAT bus around town, had a coffee and then headed to Freo prison to meet my friend Tanu for the torchlight tour.

We were given small souvenir torches and led out into the floodlit courtyards of the prison. It was built by convicts in the 1850s and was used right up until 1991. It was a place of hanging, flogging as well as hard labour.

An orb of light or a trick of the light?

So our guide Julie told us it had a spooky past and encouraged us to take photos and look for orbs of light. I don't know if there were any ghosts, but it certainly had a horrible atmosphere as we walked through the kitchens, courtyards, Junvenile and various other blocks and to solitary confinement, the gallows and flogging post.

Tanu, Jonny and I then went for pasta on cappucino strip - with the hugest portions ever beheld by man or beast...

On Saturday, we hired a car for our adventuring trip down to Margaret River wine region. Jon, Danielle, Oirish Laura, Caroline and I piled into our Toyota Corolla and I drove south to take us to colder climes and wine.

We attempted to find Australia's best pie shop (and failed) in Mandura and had a break at Busselton where we walked the 2km jetty to the end and back and then headed for Cape Natualiste where whales are often sighted and there are lovely walks around the cape and lighthouse.

The sun was beginning to sink in the sky so we took a short walk and saw the orange sunset highlighting the purple and pink hues of the landscape while Danielle hunted for wildlife.

Then we hopped back in the car to make for Margaret River town and to find Inne Town backpackers. It's slogan is 'the only backpackers in town', which may go some way to explaining why it was pretty scummy.

Margaret River is pretty goddam cold at this time of year and when the sun disappears, it's postively antartic. After a slap-up dinner at the Settlers Tavern (a pre-taste of the wine) we tried to sleep in the feckin cold hostel.

Sunday was our wine day. Cleverly, we had booked onto a Bushtucker tour which ensured that none of us had to drive and we could taste away to our hearts content. Luckily. After five wineries,a brewery, a cheese shop and a chocolate factory, I was rather merry. Maybe it was the witchety grub which I ate for lunch.

It was a perfect day, the sun shone, it was warm and we had a fine lunch of locally produced foods like humous, chilli pesto, homebaked breads and so on.

The wine was mostly excellent - far better than the Hunter Valley - and Danielle and I were delighted that one of those we visited had posh wine in goon bags. Perfect.

Monday, we left the backpackers bright and early in the crisp and frosty morning light. We layered up and popped down to Augusta - where the Southern and Indian oceans meet with great crashing force.

After a warm-up coffee and supplies for the rest of the day, we embarked on a whale watching tour around Flinders Bay.

Humpback and Southern Right whales congregate here at this time of year on their winter journey north to warmer waters. It is right at the start of the season and we had been warned we may not see much.

But after about 20 minutes, the skipper spotted some spouts of water several miles away and it was full speed ahead. Our hearts were beating fast, and we were all excited, when suddenly I glanced over to the other side of the ship and to my atonishment, saw a huge whale rearing out of the water.

i wasn't sure if it was the eye infection or not, I sort of yelped - ah - over there! While Jonny translated with a precise clock position. There were two humpback whales and they played around the boat for a while, becoming curious of this weird object in the waters.

Soon after we spotted a large group of humpbacks and went to join them... we would circle around after them and then lose them, only for them to surface just metres from the boat. It was an awesome sight and made perfect by the appearance of a school of common dolphins who sped alongside the boat and lept playfully over the whales...

And then back to Perth. Jon has just left for an adventure in Sydney and I am now preparing to leave this city adn travel up the west coast on another adventure.

tiredness...

2007-05-26T18:19:00.000+10:00

Ever felt so tired the world was spinning too fast? Man. I had forgotten what it was like to work a full week.

And there I go jumping in the deep end with my first full week of work, and then to round it off, working 9pm til 4am in a bar on Friday and Saturday nights...

No rest for the wicked eh. But of a very different sort to my usual kind. So no doubt this blog will make no sense at all. Though some may that's no change from normal.

My strong views on Perth have brought forth some amused and amusing comments and I've tried to see more good in the city since my last blog. I saw at least two people with funky hair cuts on their way to work, and only 93% of people in cheap shoes.

Work at MLCOA, the medical-legal company I do admin and reception for, has been getting steadily better as I get the hang of the intracies of photocopying and taking messages... but seriously, I am more in the swing of it now and enjoying my bus rides to and from work, listening to BBC podcasts and sniggering away as the world-weary of Perth sit in their grey splendour looking at me like I'm a nut job with good legs and nice shoes.

During my last few days of freedom before THE JOBS, Caroline and I did some fun things that made me see Perth's prettier side - we sat by Swan River and ate 10 cents bags of marsmallows and drank coffee at London Court - a faux-medieval lane in the CBD.

We met up with my roommate Lisa and her lift to Broome Steve to suss him out, and the four of us climbed up to King's Park. It was stunning up there - a wonderful view back towards the city.

It really is Perth's prettiest side.

This week has been an adjustment to working, with dinner being cooked for us by wonderful friends, a French film with Tanu and two of her buddies and sleeping a lot.

Last night was my first shift at the Elephant and Wheelbarrow - a hard night after a 6.45am start. I got in at 5.30am this morning and slept for a few hours - hence the inane or insaneness of this blog. Few more hours kip I think before I do it all again tonight...

Sadly it means I miss out on the drinking and dancing. But that's probably not a bad thing, eh dad?!

I am going to get killed...

2007-05-23T00:10:00.000+10:00

...by every Perth-lover, resident, adopted son or daughter.

But you can sometime tell this city is fricking remote from the rest of Australia and indeed the civilised world.

Sometimes in Sydney I'd be surprised by the Australian passion for everything the northern hemisphere has to offer - the clothes, music, history, food...

Magazines go on endlessly about British and US celebs, fashion shows, stores - except everything is topsy turvy here and we'd be baking in the sunshine while the darlings of Notting Hill and LA strutted their funky winter boots through the snow and slush and across pages of Aussie mags.

Music takes a while to filter down here and so on. But there was also a sense of pride in Aussie fashion, music, stores and above all, attitude.

There aren't many places in the world that bask in the sunshine so beautifully, that have such stunning beaches and yet have a cosmopolitan feel, such a good standard of living as Sydney and Melbourne.

Striding our way to our offices on level 22 of Darling Park in Sydney, Danielle and I would spot dozens of groomed and chic workers busily making their way to offices across the CBD, soy lattes and rasin toast in cupped in one hand and a briefcase in the other.

But Perth. Crikey. Cheap suits. Frumpy fashions. Ugly heels and bad followers of fashion. I'm hardly a style icon, and in backpacker mode I'm postively hideous, but it's not even SOME of these people - it's most.

Maybe it's the dire range of shops - the CBD is small, the alledgedly funkier suburbs
are spread far apart, maybe everyone fashionable doesn't walk my way to work. But there is no sense of life, of vibrance, of creativity here. Maybe it's the way I am looking at it - the lack of my kind of work and so on.

Maybe I'm in negative mode. Sorry Perthians - I think your 'city' is pretty, it's quite homely, but it's SO far away from anything bigger and brasher to escape to. For me, no amount of prettiness can score that away...

I am working now - I've just completed my third day as receptionist for a healthcare legal firm - basically a company with specialist doctores who do medicals for people making insurance and workers comp claims, that kind of thing. Quite a few fire brigade assesments too - always good for the eye.

It's the kind of job a school leaver could accomplish with aplomb. It's far from shops to browse at lunchtime (possibly a good thing), and has no natural light at the front desk. The people are nice but it's a small office. I curse that I cannot check my hotmail and will people to mail me on facebook instead...

I have training tomorrow night for a bar job - I'll be working 9pm to 4am on Friday and Saturday nights - crazy? perhaps. I need the moolla for the rest of my travels.

Elsewhere all is good. A fairly quiet weekend after a huge night on Friday. Very happily tipsy with some good dancing and so on at Black Betty's with Danielle, Lisa, Laura and so on. A good fun night.

Danielle and I cooked for our friends on Sunday night - a knock-out meal of chilli ovr nachos with cheese, sour cream and guacamole so the diet is going well ;) We've sort of joined their club and get genuine Thai food, homemade burgers, thick winter soups and shepherds pie in return. One night's hard labour for a week of good food can't be bad...

Right, time for bed. Not used to this working malarky. Rubbish!

Lazy days in Perth

2007-05-13T16:25:00.000+10:00

Perth is an interesting city. It has a different vibe to Melbourne and Sydney. The clubbing and bar scene relies heavily on local bands covering the hits which are interspersed with dance music or chart stuff.

It's an interesting time here. There is very low unemployment and are currently more jobs than people - an interesting situation because it doesn't necessarily mean things are great. Some businesses are struggling to get people to do simple jobs like kitchen hands and can't afford to raise wages and are having to close.

Perth is the sunniest city in Australia and one of the driest. So even though it is winter, days are still sunny and bright (mostly) and warm. On Thursday, Welsh lady Lisa and I went to Cottesloe beach for a sunning session and met up with Sabina, another girl from our hostel.

It was about 29C and beautifully sunny with cloudless blue skies. We lay for hours chatting, reading books and soaking up the rays before heading back to Perth on the train (about a half hour ride) with an ice cream.

Days since then have passed uneventfully - chatting to friends in the hostel, another interview with a job agency, coffee in a nearby cool cafe, reading in the sunshine of the courtyard, having dinner with friends, catching up on sleep, wandering around Northbridge (where the hostel is), Perth CBD, and trying to get over a nasty cold which is heading around the city at the moment.

Have also been celebrating one of the lad's birthdays - Mark of the rolling in the leaves fame - so of course it was obligatory to go out to Black Betty's for a beverage or two.

Caroline, our crazy fab stalker friend we met in Melbourne and fellow mad Take-Thatter, arrived in sunny Perth last night after a stunning trip to Uluru (Ayres Rock). So we met her at Moon Cafe - a funky place nearby - with her friends and caught up on all our news.

Things are going swimmingly but I've found it quite hard to get into the swing of things here. I'm looking forward to getting on the road properly, going up the west coast and seeing and doing some proper stuff - even though it's going to cost a bomb.

As we have been remarking this week, travel is great for broadening the mind (and wasitline), for meeting new people and seeing new things. But it can be quite a lonely experience to be thousands of miles from the people who know and love you best.

When you're getting up for work and are in the same old patterns you would be in at home - just in an unfamiliar and probably sunnier place - it can seem a bit pointless at times.

When you're feeling low and like getting away from everything - there is no where to hide in a hostl. You are surrounded constantly with people judging you, getting mad at you for making a noise, complaining if you decide not to go out, looking at you strangely for mad acts and it is hard to completely relax.

Of course, there are moments of just absolute fun and wonder - seeing a west coast sunset, sitting up debating til the wee hours of the morning with new friends, the feeling that, even though you've just met this person, you have a connection and you can rely on them for all sorts of things, the sunshine on your face when it's raining at home, seeing life through the eyes of people from all over the world, taking in another point of view, listening to new sounds...

But this is all to end soon - I have booked my final flight home. I will be leaving Christchurch on New Zealand's south island on November 30, and arriving in Birmingham on December 1 ready for a family Christmas in Lanzarote. Some people have all the luck, eh

Exploring Perth

2007-05-09T20:43:00.000+10:00

So what is the most remote city in the world really like?

Well, Perth doesn't feel that far away. It is a spacious city with sprawling suburbs that cover a wider area than Sydney.

As a fairly new city, it has been designed with wide roads, plenty of open spaces, tree-lined avenues and thoughtful buildings. The CBD (central business district) is more compact than Melbourne or Sydney.

The main part of the city is north of the Swan River - and I am staying in Northbrirdge - which is north of the CBD but very close. It is a studenty/backpackery area with plenty of bars and restaurants and, by the number of Chinese and Asian restaurants and supermarkets, is home to a sizable south-east asian community.

On Sunday afternoon, Danielle and I took the train to Fremantle (or Freo as they call it here) - a popular spot for backpackers and similar to Manly and it's relation to Sydney in a way - touristy, a short distance from the centre, and a self-enclosed and self-important town that is still tied to the big city.

We wandered to a pedestrianised strip, sat and had a sandwich at a pavement cafe and enjoyed the hot, hot sunshine.

We then wandered back up past the station and to the famous E-shed markets by the port - everything from belly dancer costumes to chocolate-covered bananas and knicks-knacks are sold here.

We wandered past some odd statues (pictured above)to the edge of the port and to the Maritime museum, where we looked for potential relatives - Spratts, Devlins, Lowes, Mackenzies... - on the lists of immigrants arriving on ships in the years gone by.

It had turned decidedly chilly by this time so we abandonned our walk and headed back to the station to take a ride on a free bus (the CAT) around Freo. A much easier way to see things than walking headfirst into the cold wind!

It is winter here but still pretty warm - until these cold gusts of wind come along and clouds gather. Rain tends to be hard and fast and then gone again. Mostly it has been sunny and warm.

On Monday, I made attempts to find gainful employment and signed up to an agency for work, and met Danielle for lovely (and warming) pumpkin risotto for lunch. In the evening, we headed to The Deen bar for free backpacker barbecue and free beer and a quick boogie.

Yesterday (Tues), I wandered Northbridge a little and then met Tanu and we drove (a very windy route) to Cottesloe Beach - one of the most popular (below).

It is a lovely beach - with an Indian-style tearoom built over the beach by the British many moons ago - and the sun was hot and wind mild. However, for some mysterious reason there were high cliffs of seaweed along the shoreline. Really odd and Tanu was rather embarrassed by it.

After a lovely afternoon becoming hyper on coffee (me) and being freaked out (Tanu by me), I went to meet Danielle for ingrediants for Tijuana Tuesday - we were making faijitas for dinner! woo hoo! yummy.

An early night was intended and successfully completed by Danielle. However, I was accosted on my way to fill up my water bottle and ended up with a bottle full of vodka and diet coke and chatting about the merits (or not) of journalism, the free free, Margaret Thatcher, unions, the miners strikes and living in the antarctic and whether you get SAD there.

In return for being allowed to stay in the kitchen area past bedtime (11pm), the group of us had to clean the kitchen from top to bottom - so sleep was sadly lacking.

Today, I sent out a load more CVs, finally signed up to Medicare (their healthcare system) so I can go to the doctors, sat in the park drinking chai tea and reading the job section in the hot, hot sun and generally chatting and reading and trying not to stress about lack of current job...

dubai to sunny perth...

2007-05-06T13:40:00.000+10:00

The spice souk

So Dubai is now a distant memory and I am back to backpacker life - this time on the west coast of Oz - in Perth.

But first a brief(ish) recap of my final days in Dubai if I can manage to write anything properly with a stinker of a hangover...

Creekside

I met up with a a chap called Andrew on Monday evening - he's a friend of a guy I worked with in Sydney, Noah, and he now lives in Dubai. I met him at a shopping mall and we drove out towards the Burj Al Arab hotel and to a bar called Batista (or something) at Dubai Marina.

Dubai stretches along the coastline for some miles and the marina is some way from the heart of the city. It's in the area where there are nice, plush hotels, malls and the complex world of the expats.

We sat and indulged in few G&T's and actually found out who the hell each other was before his lady, her mother and friend joined us. Like most of the expats I met, the seemed pretty disillusioned with life in Dubai - feeling the city to be a fake place built on lavish lifestyles, false friendships and greed.

The Emiratis, they said, did very little work because they get paid to live and accommodation free from the government and that most of the 50,000 population chose not to work.

Mostly, the people who wait on you, serve you in the malls and do the labouring are Indian, Pakistani, or African.

I then got a taxi back to my 2* hotel in Deira - a place the taxi driver labelled as full of prostitutes. Ah that would explain a lot.

On Tuesday, I decided to take a wander around and walked down to the creek. I took an abra (small boat) across the waters to Bur Dubai for 1 AED and wandered around in the hot sun. Andrew had told me about a nice cafe so I wandered around the textile souk (market) and then started looking for it and asked at a general store.

The chap in the shop actually rang directory inquiries, got the number, rang the cafe and asked directions before painstakingly making sure I knew the way. Like so many people I met in Dubai - he was immensely friendly.

It took me a while to locate XVA but it turned out to be in the historical building area - and very pretty it was too. The buildings look anciently arabic and have the wind towers perched atop walls to catch any breeze.

XVA was also an art gallery so I took some time to look at the modern art before settling down to a newspaper, mint lemonade and a wonderful lunch of some kind of rice, vegetable and yoghurt concoction.

Then the President of Uganda turned up. Which was odd. He took a look around while men in their white robes (the Emiratis) stood around wearing shades and talking urgently into mobile phones. And then, as suddenly as they arrived, they were gone...

That afternoon I embarked upon a desert safari - a kind of obligatory tourist occasion.

A 4x4 picked me up along with a Japanese chap from my hotel and a Malaysian lady and her sister and then we acquired a very nice French couple along the way.

We drove out of the city and to the edge of the desert, where we saw dozens of 4x4s ready to do the same adventure. And then we were all off, laughing smugly at those vehicles that hit the sand dunes and promptly got a puncture.

30 seconds later, we were not laughing so hard. We had a puncture too. Two minutes later, we were really not laughing. The engine would not turn over. The battery was dead. The air con was not working...

We tried to laugh. We asked what this might mean. Another vehicle? Death in the desert? A night under the stars?

We watched lucky bastards in their working 4x4s disappear bumping their way over the sand dunes and into the desert...

After about 10 minutes, another 4x4 appeared and they decided to attached a tow rope to the back of it and pull us down a steep dune to get the engine working. We scrambled out and watched...

...luckily it worked.

And so there followed about half an hour of bumping up and over the dunes, rushing sideways down the sand banks and headfirst down steep tracks. After the trauma of the breakdown, I was glad to see we were in convoy of 4 trucks - no way I want to break down in the middle of the desert - where mobile phones do not work.

And then it was to camp. Too soon sadly. We had to sit there for a good while contemplating sand boarding (I watched the French chap try it - it really wasn't worth the effort), taking full use of the free soft drinks, listening to loud loud loud music, fending off the attentions of the driver (me), sleeping (most people) and smoking shisa pipes.

I got a free henna tattoo and then paid to have it extended and everyone seems rather impressed by it.

Sometime later, a large barbecue was prepared with lovely humus, salad, chicken, lamb kebabs, lentil curry and all kinds of things.

And then it was time for the belly dancing - a trim, long-haired lovely came out and bent and shook her body in all kinds of weird and wonderful ways. It was fantastic and mesmirising and brilliant. Until the humilation of several as she got them to stand up and copy her moves. I was dragged up with my French friends...

Then later we all had to get up and dance in a circle before she whirled me into the centre and we spun around and around. And then it was back home and to bed and to fend off the attentions of a Nigerian guest in the hotel. There must be something in the water here...

Wednesday was my last day. I took myself off to the gold and spice souks in the morning - just a short walk from my hotel. Basically, they consist of a lot of shops selling gold. Or spices. I just wandered along the gold souk and in the spice souk - an older more interesting market - I smelled the wonderful spices and asked all about them. And ended up buying cashew nuts.

I was then accosted by an Emirati chap to go and look at the Dubai Muncipality Museum - a free video basically on the growth of Dubai and a look at some documents and the old Sheik's desk. Unfortunately, I then had to endure the attentions of this older man and his offers to show me the Emirates in his car... oh dear Lord. After explaining that I was leaving that day he eventually stopped trying to hug me and let me leave, but not before I had had a cup of Arabic tea. Hmmmm...

So then it was back to the hotel to check out before 12pm - and then just 14 hours til my flight. So I did what I do best. And went shopping. I decided to go back to Deira City Centre mall which I was told would be about a 25AED ride (three quid). So I decided to take the bus (1.5 AED).

The bus station wasn't far and after asking which buses I could take (6 or 27), I sat and patiently waited. And waited. The buses were not arriving for those routes. I waited some more at number 6 stop. Then I saw a 27 pull up and raced across the station. It parked. The driver got out and disappeared. I had been waiting 40 minutes by this time.

There then ensued a dance between the two bus stops for about another half an hour. Or maybe more who knows. I missed the 6 and ended up on the 27. But at least I was on the bus - and sat in the ladies section - which I highly approved of.

I then spent a very pleasurable however many hours shopping, watching a terrible French comedy at the cinema, drinking hot chocolate and then waiting for 40 minutes for a taxi back (which ended up costing me just 10 AED).

Then to the airport and to fly to Perth. I had a full three seats to myself on the plane. I arrived. I was met by Tanu, a lovely Perthian lady who was a coordinator for Travel to Teach in Thailand, who brought me to my hostel - Britannia in Northbridge.

I was reunited with Danielle and we all went for pasta and then a few drinks.

Since then, I have explored a little, bought a few essentials, slept a lot, eaten a lot and drunk a fair amount. We hit a club called Black Betty's on Friday night and then rolled in some leaves in the nearby park (I'm not joking) and last night, we had a few drinks in the hostel courtyard after a day shopping for clothes (for Danielle), listening to our iPods in the park and sitting by Swan River.

People are very friendly here - it's not Melbourne, or Sydney and the vibe is very different. Shops don't open on a Sunday. Weird. But it seems very nice and I'll daresay I'll have something proper to write about it very, very soon.

Below is Danielle and me doing our 'deer caught in headlights' pose. In the leaves. In the park.

Dubai - city of excess

2007-04-30T22:24:00.000+10:00

So folks I'm alive and well in Dubai on the next stage of the Spratt adventure.

Just three days here in this boiling city constructed from desert sands and so much to see and do - or is there.

I arrived (three hours late) last night and made my way by taxi to Queen's Hotel in the Deira (old town) district. Busy. Lively. Noisy. Bright Lights. Cheap shops. Bit dirty. Bit squallid. It reminded me slightly of parts of Bangkok. I liked it.

My taxi driver was rather aghast that I was staying in this place - where traffic clogs the streets and few taxis venture.

But he found the Queen's hotel for me on Al Sabkha street, which is near the gold souk and spice souk.

It is fine. There are lifts (a bonus when staying on the 4th and top floor), very cold air-conditioning, hot water, a clean bathroom with toiletries, a TV with movie channels, a fridge and a lock on the door.

The bed is hard as fricking nails, a poor replacement for my wonderful bed at home (I really DO love my bed) which made it hard to sleep last night, despite my tiredness from the 3.45am wake-up call in the morning. That and the planes which passed overhead several times as I was drifting off...

This morning I was awoken by the call to prayer from the nearby mosque - a haunting sound - but soon drifted off again. Breakfast was fine and then I proceeded to find out about the desert safari tours at the front desk.

A nice chap came to talk to me about them and suggested a city tour - something I had considered before. I decided to book one for 10.30am and went to get changed. I then ummed and aahed - i do like just to wander ang get a feel for a place, discover little shops and alleyways and preferably not get mugged. A city tour was a luxury surely...

Then reception rang to see if I was ready and so I felt my choice had been made. Luckily it was a good one. Dubai is really rather huge and there is not a very good transport system. You think London is bad... no underground, the a/c buses don't run this side of the creek but taxis are fairly cheap and common.

My tour was a private affair - just me and my guide Shafii in his white Toyota Corolla. We drove past the Gold Souk, along the creekside to the Deira Shopping Mall - the oldest in the city - and full of gems such as Debenhams, New Look, H&M and Top Shop. And all really rather cheap...

Still, this was sightseeing, not shopping and it felt rather odd to be wandering around the mall with this chap - but I can always go back :)

Then we crossed the creek to Bur Dubai. Here, we stopped and I visited the musuem - all about the development of the city from the nomad tribes as well as information about their water, natural resources (oil, pearls, gold), about oases (plural of Oasis), and old weaponry and boats etc.

Then it was down to the waterside and to a public beach - which, like so many things here, is under development. It is crazy hot here - must be about 40C and too hot to do much outside. We then went to a beach you could pretty much drive your car onto which is next to Burj Al Arab - that really famous 7* hotel on the waters edge. The water is picture perfect aquamarine colour - and just off the shore, they are creating another beach to which boats will ferry across sunworshippers.

We drove past Wild Wadi waterpark and to a nearby mall - done in a traditional sort-of a style with an attached 5* hotel complete with waterways and little boats cruising its guests along past palm trees and numerous restaurants.

Then it was to the famous Mall of the Emirates - a huge building with a glass dome - rather like Paddington station I thought - and with its piece de resitance - the real ski slope with chair lifts,an ice slide, frozen sculptures and climbing wall. Really, really odd.

After a drive through the business district (where they are building the world's tallest tower), we headed back to the my hotel.

It left me feeling that Dubai is a sprawling mass of villas, skyscrapers, beaches and old, dirty, bustling part with no real centre or connection. From the mind-blowingly deccadent (Burj Al Arab with its underwater restaurant and tennis court cum helipad and the ski centre) to the area I'm in which - although I haven't explored much - seems rather Asian in its higgedly piggedly ghettoness to the ancient Arabic constructions which still exist.

There are mass projects here - to build the three palm-shaped sets of islands (visible from the moon) and the world map islands (fake private islands for the rich, famous and money-minded business people), the world's tallest skyscraper (Burj Dubai tower), the business bay - which hopes to rival Tokyo and New York for business, a resort-style city with marinas, golf course, houses etc, Dubailand - intended to be the largest theme park on the planet, the largest shopping mall in the world, a marina 11km long, an overground/underground metro... the list goes on.

It is very interesting but also really odd and really fake. I do rather like the organic way 'normal' places are built. Or is this just the modern way to do it?

The only downside to today was the very pleasant Shafii who decided I was wonderful (naturally), funny and beautiful and that, despite my claims to have a boyfriend and his fiancee in Pakistan, really tried his very hardest to be my friend. Mostly, he was funny, knowledgable and professional but occasionally he was a little sleazy and made me feel uncomfortable - not by any agression or physicality, but just asking if I liked him, by kissing my hand and saying how nice I am.

Not sure what the rest of my stay holds but I came to the internet with the intention of getting the phone number of a friend of a friend who I hope to meet up with at some point soon.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a short message...