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

Visit www.free-burma.org and support international solidarity movements today and tomorrow

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...

And so to Oz...(via Dubai)

2007-04-28T20:48:00.000+10:00

And so, the end is near and as I face the final curtain that is the 7 hour flight to Dubai, I really bloody don't want to go.

Mainly, however, because I can't be fagged to pack my backpack and head for the hills.

I've had an awesome, awesome time back in Blighty though.

Last weekend I saw some of my best friends in London for Lizzie's birthday. An awesome theme (Superheroes and stars) got us all dressing up and in the mood for a bit of wine-fuelled catching up.

You know you have fantastic friends when you just fall back into conversation with them as easily as if you'd been speaking to them the previous day.

And catching up with Leah and Polly, two school friends who I haven't seen for yonks, was also like that. A picnic on a scorching hot day in a gated park in west London soon got us up-to-speed as we ever were on the comings and goings.

I met my brother Jonathan in town on Sunday and we watched a bit of the London marathon, wandered over the Thames and along south bank watching the budgie man (really, really weird) and having a drink at the Tate Modern.

After checking out his bachelor pad in Islington, we met Sally Seex for a flipping great curry at Rooburoo's on Chapel Market.

Then it was back to Gloucestershire.

The weather has been stunning during nearly all of my stay - warm, sunny, sometimes a bit fresh and sometimes as hot as a summer's day. It has meant drinks in pub gardens, tea in mum's courtyard and lazing around on the banks of the Thames in Oxford.

Craig and I popped to Oxford for the day on Wednesday and spent a perfect day just wandering and drinking coffee, having lunch at Europe's oldest coffee house, and sitting in Christchurch meadow in the sun.

We went to see Beth in her house in Jerico for a glass of vino and then headed to my brother Kieran's beautiful Cotswold stone cottage in Charlbury, a village north of the town.

After a spot of top nosh and a beer, we headed to a local pub with his friend Kate to watch a very, very serious musician do his all-American country, bluesy, I-don't-know-what guitar playing. Managing to get quite a few stares and a shush from the audience for my loud talking, we created a bit of a scene by not really being that interested in him.

Last night, I went to my friend Claire's for some wine and dinner with our friend Kate and then we went out for (a lot of) drinks and a dance in Cheltenham - missed most of the people I was supposed to catch up with but did see Craig and his mate Dan and had a great night.

The rest of the week has been filled by drinking tea with my sisters, thinking about packing and not doing it, thinking about renewing my travel insurance and not doing it, researching and booking hotels in Dubai (I now know more about the bloody hotels than the city) and generally having fun.

I can't wait for Perth, I really can't and to experience the weirdness that is Dubai for three days. But I'm really very, very sad to go. And I still haven't found my camera memory card. grrr.

Sunny England??!!

2007-04-20T08:51:00.000+10:00

Would you believe it? It is actually warm, sunny and wonderful right now in England.

With temperatures pushing 25C on some days, there has barely been a dull moment in the sky for me to escape to update the blog.

Coming home for my dad's 70th birthday has been a wonderful treat. Fantastic to see my nieces, sisters, parents and brothers and sisters as well as all my friends.

It has been one of the few occasions when all six of my siblings, plus parents and kids, have been together in a very, very long time - and I think possibly the first time we have all been pissed together since Duncan's wedding in 1998.

There have been walks on the Malverns with my good friend Fur, numerous barbecues, gossiping over tea with my sisters, wine drinking with friends, lazy luncheons and reunions which have been both very pleasant and very painful.

And while I am muchly looking forward to the Return to Oz, and to see my darling Danielle, I haven't been quite ready to leave yet.

England is truly beautiful in the sunshine and, while Gloucester itself remains an ugly (though regenerating - they say) city, the Cotswolds make me proud to come home.

Painswick, the Queen of the Cotswolds, is just two miles from my parents home and is a quaint village of ancient Cotswold stone houses, windy lanes and a spired church which commands a stunning view over the vales below - not far from a place called Paradise.

When there are homes here which still have lead-lined windows, old wooden doors with huge knockers (boom boom) and even the old stocks by the churchyard - it is no wonder I find the modernity of Australian cities so strange and alien. In England, there is history around every corner - and an 800 year old tree in our field.

But I have postponed my flight almost a week, not because of an 800 year old tree, but to give me more time with my loved ones.

I have also shortened my trip to Dubai from six days to three - money concerns have dictated this rather than love affairs, fears of kidnap (worries held by my mother) or need to get back to Danielle.

So Perth is next on the Oz agenda - and for England, it is London. A weekend of catching up with uni friends for a superhero costume party, seeing my brother for his birthday and catching up with other various people.

It is also, so my parents believe, extra time to do the grocery run, cook up a bit of dinner, tidy my room, and not-go-out-in-a-skirt-that-short, and what-are-you-doing-seeing-that-boy-again and are-you-really-going-out-again-tonight? time.

Perhaps before I go, the weather will turn horrid and I look forward to the windy city with increasing joy. But right now, there is nothing prettier than England, and the Cotswolds, in Spring.

The surprise, the wedding, the ex

2007-04-09T19:07:00.000+10:00

SO I am back in England - for two weeks only.

It has been a carefully planned surprise for my dad's 70th birthday and has involved much secrecy, mild deception and nerves - particularly on the part of my mother.

Still after 25 hours of flight from Melbourne via Dubai to London Heathrow, my dad was suitably surprised as I walked through the exit gates.

Mum had told him that my cousin would be returning early from Toyko and my aunt had telephoned to ask him to pick her up - as they were flying to Spain that very day. Being a generous soul, he agreed. But he admits cursing Miranda's name as he waited for the delayed flight in the arrivals hall.

Only for it to be me causing all the bother and arriving the day before the long Easter weekend.

His face completely dropped from the arranged smile to absolute shock. His mouth was open, he looked around him as if thinking, "Er why am I here? who am I? What's going on? Have I gone mad?"

Naturally, I talked ten to the dozen the whole way home and was greated my two shrieking banshees (my sisters) and four very shocked nieces - who had also been in the dark about my arrival.

A boozy dinner of spag bol and meringue on the patio followed. It was almost as if I had never been away.

Luckily for me, the weather is beautiful here - warm (for April), sunny and spring-like. There are a neighbouring farmer's lambs in our fields, primroses on the banks off our wood and the last of the daffofils. The Magnolia tree outside my bedroom window is still in (browning) blossom and the trees are beginning to bud.

I sank into my lovely lovely double bed with its soft soft mattress which I cunningly wrestled from the 'divorce' last year.

Ah and onto that, I know at least several people are keen to hear the gory details of meeting up with Craig. Emboldened by Steven's recent podcast mentionning Fleur, I can't be bothered to encode this.

He picked me up on Friday around noon, after chatting to my family and being scrutinised and criticsed (in 'bantering' form - oh dear) by them. But he coped very well (he has had to put up with my sisters' rather cruel sense of humour on many previous occasions).

I was being taken for lunch but we didn't know where - we drove around the stunning Cotswolds for a time before ending up at The Bell at Sapperton - a gastro pub popular with second homers in the area. After a drink there, we proceeded to the more homely Daneway pub down the road (where we used to walk when I was a child) and attempted to order a bite to eat before the 2pm cut off.

As is usually the way with us, we missed it and had to make do with a drink in the sunshine, surrouned by the stunning countryside. It was friendly, easy, comfortable, lovely and a little emotional. But, he has a girlfriend and doesn't really need me coming back for two weeks and going off again and messing him aorund. I haven't seen him since but I am sure I shall soon.

On a more serious note, I have rediscovered many of England's most pleasing pleasures such as Marmite (oh, how I've missed you - Vegemite sucks in comparison) and sherbert lemon. The latter I had never forgotten that I like a lot but I realised I liked it more than I remembered. I know I should eat lots of it while I'm back (it is it's purpose after all and wants me to eat it) but, rather like my Easter choclate, I fear it will become a nasty habit that I can't kick and that I will have withdrawal symptoms when I go back to Australia without vast supplies. So I am eshweing it for a more healthy lifestyle... Oh my waistline how you have grown already...

My friend Laura was married on Saturday to her childhood sweetheart Shane. I have known Laura since our days fetching and carrying as slaves at Bowden Hall Hotel and from a few weeks dating her brother when I was 16.

The wedding was held at Tortworth Court in South Gloucestershire - a stately manor home. Laura looked stunning in a ruffled, princess -style dress. She looked like a bridal model with her tiny waist, long dark hair, tanned skin and good looks. I would upload some pictures but somewhere in transit I have lost the USB cable which connects my camera to computers. Which is bloody annoying.

Sally, one of my oldest friends, and fellow Bowden Hall ex-employee joined me at the wedding and we a good giggle catching up, running barefoot through the gardens and dancing on the Cotswold stone wall at the bottom of a hill while we waited for the evening do to start. This was much to the amusement of the groom who caught us being very silly.

Mind you, most people at the wedding saw us dancing in the evening - why be serious on the dancefloor?!

Anyway it was a beautiful wedding with the breakfast in the Orangery - a glasshouse building - an effective chocolate and cream theme and yummy cake. It as funny to see all the elements Laura has been emailing me about for months come together - the cake, the dress, the shoes, the tiara, the invitations and so on.

Mr and Mrs Forsythe are now in the Maldives - the lucky pair.

Anyway I have rambled on enough... again soon.

Ah the autumn....

2007-04-02T14:40:00.000+10:00

So Autumn really has hit Melbourne. But no golden leaves creating havoc on all the pavements. No misty mornings and drizzle.

But yes there is rain. Yes I have been very cold and needing jumpers, coats and scarves. Of course, the days when I worked 13 hour days it was sunny and warm which brought everyone to the beach and to our cafe. The result? Two days of utter mayhem at work. But it's all good fun of course...

On Friday, Jenni and I bundled into our housemates' truck and went with them to Phillip Island. The island itself is pretty dull on a cold and windy day - there was a hurricane south of Australia and Melbourne caught the edge with some fantastic gales. All rather thrilling when you're on clifftops.

It felt a bit like a British holiday - even more so when we visited Cowes, which is actually twinned with Cowes on the Isle of Wight.

We fuelled up on McCafe coffee on the way and ventured across the bridge to the island - which is a few hours drive from St Kilda. Once we got there we realised there wasn't a hell of a lot to do. We passed a few 'sights' - a beach and Swan Lake (cue much humming of Tchaikovsky) where there was a distinct lack of both lake and swans. Bloody drought.

Then we went to the, er, Nobbies. Two big rocks just off the coast and where we had hoped to see seals - however Seal Rock is actually 1.5km offshore. So we didn't. We did, however, have a very blustery walk along the cliffs to see a blowhole and a lot of waves pounding the rocks below.

Freezing cold, we hopped back into the car and went in search of warmth and ended up at Penguin Parade visitor centre for a look around and a very dodgy sandwich. We bought our tickets for the evening and headed to Cowes for a warming coffee, a shop at Coles, more food and a wander around the few shops.

At around 5.30pm we headed back to the Penguin Parade. We prepared ourselves mentally and physically for the cold challenge ahead and then walked down to the beach with a few hundred other freezing souls.

There were rows of concrete steps to sit on and an area of sand cordonned off around them. Jenny and I wrapped ourselves in blankets and we all huddled together. A ranger explained the Little Penguins which we had come to see were floating about 100m offshore waiting for the sky to darken.

After about an hour of sitting with numb bums and everything else, the first few penguins emerged from the water. They ducked and dived back in again and spent ages scouring the area to see if it was safe enough to waddle up the sands and up the grassy banks to their nesting boxes. It took a while for this to happen and a small group would collect at the edge of the surf only for one to turn back or be knocked over and then they would all leg it back into the waves.

After about half an hour we had seen several groups of Little Penguins (which used to be called Fairy penguins) come home. so we left the beach and went up to the boardwalks which ran back to the visitor centre. Here we could watch them finding their nests and calling to each other and waddling up to 1km back to their homes. It is moulting season at the moment and apparently they feed themselves up for this period and some were so fat they could hardly move.

They were tiny (the smallest species in the world) - about 40cm high - and so cute. They have disappeared from all but this one beach on Phillip Island and along a lot of the coastline of Australia. apparently there is a colony under Manly Wharf as well.

Jennny and I have attempted to go out a few nights but been too tired and I have been spending time with people from work too. Last night Jenny and I attempted to go to Neighbours night.

This failed. This failed mainly because we didn't pre-buy or reserve tickets and so queued for ages and ended up sitting in the public area of the Elephant and Wheelbarrow pub with Pip and Amy from work. Libby Kennedy, Darcy and Paul Robinson were the stars for the night.

After a bit, we decided to head to Amello's (my work) because we could get free drinks there and sat and ate all the staff pizza and drank nice,free wine. Jenny and I left at 10.30pm to go and see Dr Karl's band play at the pub and I know that I went there. I know that I saw Dr Karl because I have several short movie clips on my camera of him banging a tambourine.

However the night is a complete blank after Amello's (sorry dad) but I have a bump on my head, no credit on my phone and woke up with all my clothes on, contact lenses in having got a taxi home and wandering off without paying for it. Luckily Matt paid the driver who was banging on our house door. I was already asleep and snoring - alledgedly.

Not to yourselves kids - never ever let your drink leave your sight at dodgy British pubs in St Kilda...

Touristy things...

2007-03-28T21:00:00.000+10:00

Sunny Autumn day in the Botannical Gardens

The Welshies return for a few nights of mayhem (them - not me dad!)

The thing about living and working in a place is that you become so accustomed to your daily routine and the places you know that you forget to do all the things you came here to do.

So I'm trying to fill out the last of my time in Melbourne doing the touristy things and not just watching dvds and working.

On Monday, Swedish Jen and I explored Chapel Street - a long road crammed with boutiques, one-off shops, cafes, funky bars and music shops. We spent a few hours traipsing along and wishing we had money before catching one of the ancient-looking trams back to St Kilda for a movie night.

Yesterday, we returned there and ate Thai food at a pavement cafe in the sunshine (it was about 30C at the start of the week) and bought loads of fresh fruit. When Jenny disappeared off to work, I walked further up the street and explored the suburb of South Yarra with it's lovely old houses with wrought-iron balconies, tram lines criss-crossing the tree-lined streets and pavement cafes.

Eventually I came to the Botanical Gardens and wandered around in the afternoon sunshine for an hour or so - the autumn weather here is like those wonderful late summer days in England - perfect weather for a walk.

Then it was the Shrine of Remembrance - a large memorial to those who gave their lives in the World Wars. Rather like an ancient temple, it is a commanding structure in the city. Around it are an eternal flame, the nation and state flags and dozens of memorials to various battalions, commanders, police officers killed in the line of duty, and also a specific one to the men who died building the Thai-Burma railway. That had special significance for me - having seen the places many died.

I wandered around the arts centre and then walked to Collins Street and the Rialto tower - the tallest office building in the southern hemisphere. I went to the top of the observation deck to watch sunset over the city and stayed until it was dark and the lights of the city were winking and blinking away up to the mountains in the distance.

I then bumped into a couple from Churchdown in Gloucester. Which was weird.

Other than that, I have been working a lot of hours - 13 hour shifts again at the weekend which is great money wise but bad for the energy levels. The bunch I work with are great and I am sad in a way that I'm not staying longer to work here. But Autumn is truly rolling in now - today was miserable and rainy - and the restaurant is quiet on those days. Tonight I went in for an hour and a half. Hardly worth getting out of bed for.

Two people - Alisa and Matt - who I work with have moved into Jenny and my apartment for the next week and we're all planning a road trip to see the Penguins at Philip Island on Friday. Right now, I'm off to watch Flubber with them...

Sunrise after an all-nighter on Tuesday

where have the last few weeks gone?

2007-03-22T16:47:00.000+11:00

Melbourne has been a great deal of fun and it's almost time to leave.

I've been working a bit, partying a bit and generally having a good time. Workwise, my shifts vary from 13 hour montrosities with few, if any, breaks to piddly periods of less than three hours.

Danielle hasn't been able to find a job so is deserting me for Perth. Although I'll catch up with her in a few weeks, it's going to be hard and horrid to be in different places.

On Monday crazy Caroline left and with her, the rules of stalking and stories about Take That... you kind of had to be here but let's just say we were both hoping to casually track down the That when they were in Australia recently...

Today, Finnish Jenny leaves and English follows suit tomorrow and Danielle on Saturday. That leaves just Swedish and me and half an empty apartment. So it will be knuckling down to save and earn cash for a bit before I head off.

We've had some cracking nights out - hooking up with some of the Manly crew such as Jana and Amy - and today the Welshies and Geordie Steve came to Melbourne from Adelaide for a few nights out. So life isn't dull.

It hasn't all been drinking either (you'll be pleased to know dad). I've been exploring some of the alleyways in town (during the day, perverts) and checking out little cafes and boutiques and wandering tree-lined streets.

Swedish, Finnish, Danielle and I were off to Melbourne Museum on Monday but, as it was too sunny to be inside, decided to trapise Brunswick St in arty farty Fitzroy instead and had lunch and coffees in cool little cafes and chatted away before coming back to St Kilda beach to watch the sunset.

Amello, the restaurant where I work, is at the sea baths and right on the beach. Most evenings there are just the most stunning sunsets over the waters. A few nights ago the sky was ablaze for ages with pinks, oranges and reds and the clouds smudged the light across the horizon.

Work is going well. It's bizarre to be working in a restaurant again (which I swore blind I'd never do again) and reminds me of the old days working at Bowden Hall... The food is amazing at this place and we get free pizza every night - a very dangerous place to work clearly.

It's ok work though and it's nice to meet new people and save a bit of money although the hours are pretty irregular.

There's still so much to do in Melbourne before I leave - Neighbours night and/or tour, the museums and galleryies. Melbourne is the food capital of Australia (and they love their food here) so clearly there is more tasty treating to be done. It's going to be weird and hard without Danielle though and with Swedish Jen working such long hours.

Toda, we took a picnic to St Kilda Botanical Gardens as a kind of farewell - spuds from spudbar (a litre of sour cream? half a block of cheese? oh go on then) and cakes from the very lovely cake shops along Acland Street. It's been a baking 31C today though - the weather here is as changeable as UK summers and we've seen pretty much every kind of temperature and weather variation this week.

Melbourne and St Kilda

2007-03-13T15:01:00.000+11:00

Been having a very productive week.

Last Thursday we met up with four girls here who had been staying at Manly Backpackers over Christmas and New Year - two of them I shared a room with at the hostel.

There is Tania and then, would you believe, three Jenny's - English, Swedish and Finnish...

We went out and partied with them in St Kilda - they live in a cool little residential area near the Botanical Gardens. It's away past Acland Street - a cool street full of funky shops, cafes selling THE most amazing cakes, all sorts of eateries...

Anyway, we met up with Wolsey, who had come down from Manly with Oirish John and his lady - so it was a bit of a Manly renuion.

As Tania was leaving the following day, the Jennys said we could move in. Rent is fairly decent (and cheaper than the hostel) so we went back to the hostel on Friday night and moved into the girl's place on Saturday.

On Friday evening, Danielle and I went to watch March of the Penguins at the Moonlight Cinema in town. There has been a huge water festival over the holiday (Labor Day) weekend in Melbourne so there was a carnival along both sides of the river bank with rides, live music and so on.

So we huddled on our beach towels on one side of the river, watching a screen on the other bank and behind it the skyscrapers of the city. It was pretty special.

The next day we lugged our stuff to St Kilda and into the flat. It's pretty awesome to have our own place again - and all girls! No smelly boys!

After moving in, I hauled ass around town handing CVs into cafes and bars. It's pretty backpacker orientated so there aren't many jobs going - esp as it's the end of summer.

But I ended up scoring a trial at a restaurant called Amello's at St Kilda baths on the beachfront.

So Sunday, I rocked up and was sent back 10 years to when I started my first waitressing job - and was polishing cutlery like a demon. The people there were pretty cool and the food is great - cheap staff lunches at $5 (two quid) for a delicious pizza, pasta, fish and chips, salads, pretty much most of the dishes off the menu or anything you can think of.

They asked me to stay on a few hours (paid) and then gave me a job which was awesome, pretty fast work.

So of course we had to go out and celebrate with a few beers... We hit a few bars and ended up meeting Wolsey and two surprises - Chandler who had left Sydney in January and Patrick - one of the first people I spoke to in Manly.

So we had a ball dancing and drinking the night away - until my head hit the pillow at 6am. It wasn't so great when i had to be at work at 12...

But things are going well. St Kilda's has grown on me massively although I am sad to be a little out of city life. It's awesome to have friends here already - although English and Finnish leave in two weeks or less.

Life is good, the sun is still shining (sort of) although the winds and stronger and cooler now. Winter is on it's way...

Great Ocean adventure

2007-03-09T16:23:00.000+11:00

It was time to do the Great Ocean Road - to whizz along the southern coastal road of Victoria by the sea shore and through the lush forests east of Melbourne.

We hired a yellow car for the purpose - a snazy little Hyundai Getz (top car) and dragged one of our roommates from the backpackers along for the ride.

Poor Dave - the Canadian chap had to spend two whole days with us while we sang Britney, obsessed over food and swerved along the Great Ocean Road. He coped remarkably well.

It should have been an early start for us but, well, being us it was 10.30am before we hit the road - and promptly got lost in the city centre trying to find the freeway. I had to negotiate Melbourne's right-hand turns - no mean feat when signs say "Use left lane to turn right"...

But the sunshine spurred us on and we were soon on our way to Geelong (pronounced jerlong) before a stop at Subway for sandwiches and then onto the route to Torquay.

Here we stopped at Bells Beach - made famous in the surf dude film Point Break - wandered a lot and then hopped in the car. I was designated driver but we made quite a few stops at viewpoints along the way.

The scenery was stunning when I could take my eyes off the twisting and turning road along the mountainsides with waves pounding the beaches and cliffs below us.

It just stretched on for miles and miles of beautiful coastline and changing landscapes of green hillsides to scraggy bushland around us.

After a late lunch stop at Lorne for delicious foccacias and warming coffees (the weather had turned cold, windy and grey), we continued our route with Danielle taking the wheel at the next town.

This was where the road turned inland to wind through forests and the Otway range of mountains. We detoured to a lighthouse on Cape Otway and saw Koalas in the trees around the site.

The lighthouse was closed by the time we arrived, but we took a walk up the hill through bushland (with signs to watch out for snakes) but there wasn't much of a view.

Then we hopped back in the car for another windy route through the hills to the 12 Apostles - one of the highlights of the route.

We arrived just before dusk to see the eight stacks of rock highlighted by the setting sun. We watched and waited for sunset, seeing the 'apostles' bathed in a golden glow. Sunset itself was rather a disappointment...

...the sun sank low in the sky as a bright orangey pinky ball before just disappearing without pomp, ceremony or so much as a pink smudge on the horizon.

The trio then made our way wearily to the next town - Port Campbell - to find Dave a backpackers. Unfortunately there was no room at the inn. Or the caravan park. D and I were planning to sleep in the car but Dave, bless his heart, is rather a tall guy and the car was pretty small.

Luckily, a chap at the caravan park made a call to a woman who lives on a hill, up a windy dirt track and sorted Dave out with the room at the back of her house for $75. He had to take it - there was no choice. The hunt for food proved fruitless - another town with shops, cafes, takeouts, closing before 9pm and only expensive restaurants were open. So we made do with chocolate bars and crisps from the pub and drove Dave up into the middle of nowhere in the pitch black.

By this time, D and I were freaking out about sleeping in the car in a layby or middle of nowhere - and driving to this scary place in the dark wasn't helping.

However there was a warm welcome at the house and a lovely double bed and ensuite room for Dave with a TV, kettle and coffee-making stuff - even towels and soap. Rather luxurious for backpackers. We told the lady we were sleeping in the car and she took pity on us and brought two mattresses in for D and I, saying it was good karma for her son's travels.

So we spent the evening in comfort and warmth playing snap and giggling. Sadly Dave snored loudly ALL NIGHT - half-wakingly blaming it on Danielle at one point and oblivious to my thumps and punches.

After buying chocs for the lady of the house, we popped to buy our food for the day at 'the supermarket' (a corner shop) and survived off peanut butter and jam sandwiches all day.

Then it was off to London Bridge and Bay of Islands (more rock formations and stacks) and then retracing our steps back towards 12 Apostles for the Loch Ard Gorge.

The coastline is renowned for ship wrecks thanks to the perilious seas of the Bass Straits and here, at the start of the last century, the Loch Ard ship was wrecked with the loss of all lives but two. A young man Tom Pearce saved the life of Eva Simpson in the gorge from the stormy seas and climbed out up sheer cliffs with a broken arm to get her help. So that was a nice story and a lovely walk in the heat along the headland.

Then we drove back along the Great Ocean Road, taking it in turns to drive and take pics and singing along to mine and Dave's (very) limited collection of CDs.

It was a massive rush to get back to Budget rental by 5.30pm but we ended up making it there at 5.55pm - five minutes before it closed up and we had to pay for another day. phew. We waved goodbye to our little yellow car with sadness... again soon my friend. Again soon...

And so... to Melbourne

2007-03-07T20:01:00.000+11:00

So... Danielle and I wound our way down to Melbourne in a lesiurely, carefree way last week.

We took a Premier Motors bus to Ulladulla, just under five hours south of Sydney.

Arriving just after dark, we hauled our backpackers and breaking daypacks (me) down a steep hill and up another one to Travellers Rest backpackers. It was a cute little blue bungalow on the hill infront of the owners' home.

It was an old-fashioned little place with polished floors, pine bunk-beds crammed into the small rooms but with a large sitting room complete with ancient TV (I mean ancient - turn the dials to tune type thing) and all in all rather like your grandparents home.

The place holds 16 people - it would be jam-packed if full - but luckily there were only 6 of us the first night.

We grabbed a KFC from across the road (after a very hairy five minutes as I attempted to pass the huntsman spider on the outside stairs) , as we couldn't bear the walk back down the hill to the town, and chilled out for the evening.

The next morning we decided to explore the town and take a walk around the headlands to the beach. The hill our backpackers was on fed down to the harbour and the road ran straight up the other side of the steep-sided valley and was lined with shops and cafes. It is a small, retirement-age and slightly-worn place and not cheap at all. But after a coffee, we set off for our walk. We walked back past the small harbour, up the hill again and turned off into the north headland for a walk through the bush and to the viewpoints.

We were so engrossed in chatting and taking pictures, we even started the circular route again - well all bush looks the same to us!

Then we walked down into a little secluded and seaweed strewn bay which we had to ourselves. The sea was FREEZING so we paddled a little and then sunbathed until our tummies began to rumble. So we walked around the rocks to Mollymook beach - a huge golden arc of sand which reminded me a little of Palm Beach (Home and Away's Summer Bay).

Here the waves were large and we sat and had veggieburgers overlooking the sands. The rest of the afternoon was taken up with wandering through the streets nearby and the cemetery (check out the vaults - VAULTS!) and thinking that all the homes and wide streets reminded us of America.

It was all very Boston, Danielle thought, while I imagined it to look like New England with its wooden houses and tree-lined roads.

In the evening the backpackers filled up a little, with the owners shoving three other girls in our tiny room (despite the fact that there were other, empty rooms), so we escaped to the tiny, faded cinema for a bit of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore cheesy wonderfullness in the form of Music and Lyrics. The songs have been stuck in my head ever since.

Our bus the next day did not leave until 2.20pm but we had strict (and I mean strict) instructions to leave the premises by 9.45am (although we could leave our bags in the spider-infested pit under the balcony). So Danielle and I decided to take the walk around the south headland.

This was a lot of fun as we spotted laurikeats and all kinds of fanastic wildlife in the bush. The path wove along the clifftops and we could look south along the coastline and down on beaches pounded by heavy surf. We watched some daring surfers paddling far out to sea and expertly riding waves which must have been at least 10ft above them.

We passed a lighthouse at the headland peak and continued our walk through the trees and along the cliffs. Until we reached a clearing and the end of the trail marked on a rubbish map given to us at the hostel. hmmm. D swore blind the guy had said we could go down onto the beach and along the cliffs back to the harbour.

By this time, our stomach's were rumbling and we'd had enough of bloody birds and bloody trees and ant holes and photos. Our heads were heavy with the heat, we were virtually out of water and the sun was beating down on us with full force. But we climbed down the steps to the beach and picked our way past crabs and stones and pebbles and seaweeds right around until there was a slight problem. A lot of cliff face. A lot of water. Not much rock. We attempted to see how far the narrow ledge went around but I didn't really fancy the papers back home reporting on the death of another 'two stupid Brit girls die in stupid accident' headline. The shame would have killed me.

So I persuaded Danielle it was the stupid idea that she knew deep down it was (this is a girl who thought it wise to climb over a cliff-side fence onto two inches of crumbling soil to pose behind a bush for a photo...) and we wearily climbed back around to the steps and tried not to pass out from heat as we ascended back into the cool forest. It was about a two minute walk back to the road we discovered. Bummer.

We treated ourselves to lunch at the boardwalk cafe as a przie for not dying on the rocks and then collected our stuff for the short trip to Narooma.

We arrived around 5pm and checked into to our next place - Lynch's Hotel. Our room was above the smoky pub and it was fantastic. We had to walk on a little covered balcony to our room - a glass-panelled double door led into a tiny room with a double bed, towels, little wash stand and sink and with the doors open, we could lie on the bed and see over the balcony to the north coast - waves smashing against the cliff.

Setting straight out, we tried to book a tour to see the penguins, seals and dolphins on Montague Island - but they were expensive and apparently the penguins are malting at the moment so we were unlikely to catch them. Disappointed, we booked a tour up the inslet for the following day.

We then wandered around the shore of the inslet as the sun sank in the sky and watched pelicans landing in the water, sat and revelled in the beauty of the scene before us - green mountains reflected in the water and the calmness of the atmosphere, before wandering up the steepest hill in the world to the hotel and watching sunset over the mountains on the balcony. After a gourmet pizza, we got into our pj's and hit the hay.

The next morning we stumbled to Woolies and bought fresh bread, cheese and salami and headed to the inlet to eat it on the grass. We lay, rested (what a wearying day) and watched children splashing about in the water, before taking our cruise on a little Waronga Princess boat.

The 100-year-old boat was filled with OAPs and a couple of kids and was captained by Charlie - a funny chap and the third Charlie in his family. He regaled us with tales of old-times in Narooma, history of the area ("This house here was built over 40 years ago!") and actually very interesting titbits. We heard about sharks he and his father had caught (proper big, scary sharks here) right in the inlet, the fish to be found and how they were caught, pointed out sea eagles and their nests and the rainforest parts and was generally rather amusing.

Then we stopped off for a walk through a bit of rainforest (not far - most people needed zimmerframes really) to see scary plants which stang lots, layers of shells the abo's used to throw down and all this was followed by a Devonshire Tea (served by a real Croc Dundee chap) on the banks of the inlet.

Then it was time to sample Sydney Rock Oysters which live in the inlet and which are supposedly some of the best in the world. I ate two.

Back on land, Danielle and I waited around and dozed (it had been a hard day) before getting fish and chips for supper. There was a hairy moment when D refused to eat her fish (there was a wobbling bottom lip I'm sure) but i managed to scrape the skin off it for her. Sometimes we mother each other. I say sometimes. We have to stop each other's strops a lot.

Then it was back up the hill to the "hotel" to watch lightening flash over the mountains and eventually to the bus stop at 10pm.

Uh oh... once on the bus to Melbourne I realised Oysters had NOT been a good idea. Luckily the immodium was on hand but it took a long time to locate...

Not much sleep was had on the bus so by the time we arrived in Melbourne (pronounce Melbun to avoid offending aussies - oh and CAN-berra not Can-bare-rah)at 7.30am, I was in full grouch mode and about to throw up.

After a worrying few minutes where I threatened to throw my toys out of the pram, we decided to get a taxi to Hotel Bakpack, one of the few we rang which would let us check in immediately.

It was a shit-hole to be frank. Big, immpersonal, though lots of things like free breakfast, tours, a job centre to keep people amused. Our room smelled. It was small and the beds were rickety. We showered in the dirty bathroom and then headed for sustenance.

The day was spent exploring. We walked up Lygon Street (Little Italy) and to Brunswick Street in Fitzroy for coffee. I loved this place. At first I thought "colourful"? More like a ghetto. The same way Barton Street in Glos or inner-city London suburbs could be described as colourful. More ghetto-like. But this gave way to funky flea shops and cafes with hundreds of people sat having breakfast in the sunshine (it was Sunday morning). Older buildings, all colourfully painted and with huge, artistic signs hanging off them and good strong coffee.

Then we caught the free city tram around the outskirts of the CBD and went around 1 1/2 times, found some sushi and then walked over the river. We jumped on a tram to St Kilda and walked down funky Fitzroy Street (cooler than school bars and cafes) to the beach. It wasn't Manly.

A thin scuzzy beach, horrid harbour dirty water. Seaside England air. Yuck yuck yuck.

Then a tram to South Melbourne and found Urban Central backpackers -still large but CLEAN and trendy. We booked in for the following night and then made our way back up to Little Italy for a slap-up pasta meal (well we deserved it for er making it safely to Melbourne - it was a free glass of wine with a meal too!). It was my first drink since leaving Manly and I felt extremely tipsy after.

The next day we moved our crap to Urban Central and then went shopping for a camera for Danielle (she lost hers at Sounds on Sunday in Jan). We also booked a car for two days for our trip to the Great Ocean Road on Tues and Weds.

That evening, we discovered there was a free BBQ at the hostel so filled up on that, met our roommates for the night - Jeannine and Dave - and made them join us for drinks in the hostel bar.

The following day was the Great Ocean Road drive... but that's a story for another day... pics to come too....

up up and away

2007-03-05T15:43:00.000+11:00

So we have finally waved farewell to Sydney. It was a hard wrench after four months of fun and frolics... but it was time.

We had a crazy time of partying away our last few days and of intentions to do all the things we'd never found time for.

After work on Friday we went for a few drinks with Noah, Andrew and the new temps Kirsten and Rich at Pier 26 at Darling Harbour.

Then it was back to Manly and the hostel where everyone was gearing up for a party in the courtyard. Dani grabbed my camera and ran around taking snaps of everyone as they downed the goon.

On Saturday we had planned to go to Watsons Bay and watch the sun set but it was a cloudy and grey day so Dani, Danielle and I grabbed coffees in Candys, a great little book-lined, game-filled coffee shop, and quizzed each other with Australian Trivial Pursuit. Who knew it was easier than the UK version?! Then we wandered along Manly beach at dusk playing stupid word association games and giggling like school girls.

That evening was another awesome night out. The hostel were holding a man auction - a pretty horrendouse idea which involved girls 'bidding' for the man by offering to down a certain number of glasses of goon. The highest number won and the girl and the guy then drank that many glasses and were tied to the boy. Whoever stayed tied the longest to their girl won a few free nights accommodation.

It was as hideous as it sounds but all in good fun and there were many matey bondings in the end. Danielle and I ended up bidding jointly for a cute German guy who was one of the last to go (there were far fewer girls than guys) and Karim turned out to be a real laugh.

It was hilarious as he tried to contain his modesty going to the toilet... we ended up winning for him.

Then it was off to the Steyne one last evening for a bit of boogie-time.

Sunday was a huge write-off. I ended up talking to two crazy crazy amazing Canadian girls - Jackie and Tessa - who were fab, fun and drinking at 11am. Yes dad, I know my poor liver will come back to haunt me - but I actually drank very little all day -just topped up the night before every so often...

It was a very entertaining day - just sat around laughing and entertaining these lovely gals who I apparently reminded them of a girl back home they knew and loved.

On Monday, Dani, Danielle and I attempted to meet at 5.30am for a sunrise walk to Spit. Hilariously, this consisted of about 30 texts between Dani and myself saying "Shall we go? I will if you want to...", me trying to raise Danielle from the dead and once she was finally up, Dani realising she couldn't leave the house as she had no keys. After all this dillydallying, D and I decided to go and watch sunrise on the beach anyway. It was a bit too cloudy but pleasant enough...

It brightened up in the afternoon for a short walk around the lake reserve with Dani (I'd never made it there before - pathetic) before another evening of fun...

This involved a huge party in room 17 (the room we first started to party in when we got to Manly) with everyone in a happy, fun mood. It also consisted of someone thinking it would be a good idea to tie a bag of goon to the ceiling fan (don't ask) and people chasing said bag around...

Many people had thought it was Danielle and my last night so on Tuesday they were in for a bit of a shock when they realised we were, in fact, leaving on Wednesday and that there was supposed to be another night of celebratory leaving...

We packed a bit and chatted to people we were leaving behind and then I went on a 'date' with Tessa (the Canadian) oh and Jackie, Walsey, Matt, and Tyler to my favourite Thai place at the wharf. We sat on the steps eating our yummy food and then Dani and Taz joined me when the others left and we watched the sun set.

It was then an unwilling night of partying again - me drinking my Hunter Valley sparkling wine - unwilling because I had partied enough for a lifetime by this point.

But it was great fun and, after a beachside walk with Russ and Danielle, mostly consisted of me passing around my journal for people to write drunken farewell notes (a lot of "to Michelle.."'s and "I'm too drunk to say anything meaningful.."'s) before inevitably moving to room 17.

The next morning was a bit of a blur as we made our final packing arrangements, hauled our stuff to storage by 10am and then met some of our closest friends for brunch - Klara and Emilie the Swedes we lived with, Dani, Russ, Paul and Michelle. We sat on the grass by the beach and tried not to be sad. Dani handed me a lovely painting she crafted for me. It was a stunning day - Manly at its best with a breeze coming off the ocean but the sky scorchingly blue above. It was fitting end to our stay there.

There was a hairy moment when we were almost denied our $600 bond back off bad lads Max and MJ but a swift call to their dad sorted that out.

It was hard to hug everyone goodbye but we had to rush off for the ferry and luckily we left it til the last minute and I hardly had time to kiss Dani farwell at the gate. It was only on the ferry when we chucked down our backpacks, daypacks, handbags, bottles of water... that I truly realised I was leaving. It was over.

On the bus, we sat and read our notes from our friends - some funny, some heartfelt, some brief, the odd crude and rude ones.

But we were on an adventure. It started to rain as we left to head south - to sunnier skies....

(to be continued....)

So, the end is near...

2007-02-23T17:02:00.000+11:00

Well it's goodbye to the steady office job. Farewell to the apartment. And soon goodbye to Manly and Sydney and our many friends here.

Naturally, there are mixed feelings of excitment and sadness.

Last night (thursday) our office team took us out to Chinta Ria, a Malaysian restaurant, for a slap-up meal (all on the office credit card).

There was plenty of wine flowing and good banter and then it was off to the Shelbourne pub for a few beverages or ten.

They have told us we'll be missed and I think our general stupidity and good humour will be noticeably absent. Which is how, of course, we want it. Not that Danielle's request at dinner to "go around the table and tell us one thing you'll miss about us" was taken up...

We have now returned to the hostel for our final few nights and have our fingers crossed the boys will give us our bond back soon and we can head towards Melbourne.

We're still not sure how we're getting there but hey ho - it'll sort itself out...

Queens of Sydney

2007-02-21T12:50:00.000+11:00

People lined every available inch of the central harbourside when the two Queens met last night.

The Queen Elizabeth 2 was due to sail past the Queen Mary 2 at 7pm last night - the first time the two had met in Sydney. During World War II the two orginal ships had met in the harbour.

After the welcome the QM2 had received in her pre-dawn arrival, I anticipated that there would be a lot of interest in this meeting.

But the 7pm ferry from Circular Quay to Manly was more rammed than ever - with people queuing at the wharf from 6.30pm and rushing to the sides so they could watch the QE2 sail into the international dock at the quay.

As we left the wharf at 7pm, people were lined around the quay and all around the Opera House. They stood on the banks opposite the quay and peered over balconies of apartments and bars.

We heard the loud horns of the two ocean liners as they met and then rounded the corner of the quay to see hundreds of boats welcoming the QE2 and watching the historic meeting of the two ships. Small speedboats bobbing dangerously to huge catamarans and pleasure boats scattered the water around and between the two ships.

The QE2 is a smaller, older sister to the QM2 but perhaps more famous if not as impressive. The QM2 longer than the highest tower in Sydney is high.

But the ship is still beautiful. It took us ages to manouevre through all the boats and past the QE2 - but no one cared. Water canons sprayed the ship to welcome her and watch her dock at the quay. There was an atmosphere that something special was happening - not least because there were eight helicopters circling overhead.

The QM2 (below) left the naval base dockland (it was too long to dock at Circular Quay and too high to sail under the bridge) late last night but we saw the QE2 as we arrived for work this morning. How wonderful to be able to sail into one of the most beautiful harbours in the world and have a fantastic city lying right at your feet.

Bondi, films and sunshine...

2007-02-19T13:08:00.000+11:00

Dawn at North Head near Manly this morning

Our time in Sydney is drawing to a close - and we are trying to make the most of it.

The past week has been fun-filled and busy as Danielle and I try to fit in all our 'must-do's' before we head to Melbourne next week.

The Sunday before last we went to In Situ, a funky little cocktail bar in Manly, where I had awesome virgin (!) cocktails as we listened to a wicked band and chatted to the rather lovely barmen we had met the week before.

It was a nice and calm way to end the week before heading into the madness of Monday... where our new temps met us. It has fallen to Danielle and I to train them up and, to be honest, it's a bit of a drag. Not that Kirsten and Richard aren't lovely - it's just hard to get on with your job with someone peering over your shoulder and trying to instruct them when time is tight and they have no idea what they are doing...

So meeting up on Tuesday with Dani at the Opera Bar for sun-downers was a lovely stress reliever. She and I watched the sun set behind Harbour Bridge as we sipped red wine and caught up on everything and anything. We later caught the ferry back to Manly, standing at the front of the boat and watching the fairy lit skyline around the harbour. Back in Manly, we met Danielle at the Bavarian Beer Cafe for another drink and gossip. Great to catch up with such wonderful, life-affirming friends.

The following evening, Valentine's Day of course, a large group of us hit The Steyne pub. It was supposed to be Paul and Michelle's final night but the previous evening Michelle, rather intoxicated with goon, had lept onto the beach from the walkway above. Not smart. She has smashed two bones in her ankle and calf and needs surgery - and metal plates. So much for them travelling up the coast...

So they were notably absent from their leaving-do/Jimbo's birthday...

On Thursday we spent a lovely evening round at our old pad - well more accurately, thats

On Friday, our boss Oirish Mark sent around an email to the team: "As your all aware, our brilliant backpackers are leaving us very soon. To thank Danielle and Charlotte for all their hard work Phil has kindly offered to pay for dinner at Chinta Ria. I hope you can find time to see the girls off on their travels and watch them enjoy a meal that doesn’t include 2 minute noodles..." Bless. They are taking us to Chinta Ria for lovely Chinese food. I can't wait.

The weekend has been lovely and chilled out. Danielle and I made the trip to Bondi. It was a bit of a mission by ferry and bus (Manly is north of the centre, Bondi is south east) but we got there on Saturday afternoon - a real scorcher of a day.

We clambered off the bus on a hill south of the beach and saw the fat golden crescent of sand below. It was unsurprisingly pretty packed but the water was a stunning greeny-blue. Dozens of surfers dotted the waves. A green stretch of land lay behind the sun worshippers and the buildings on the cliffs at the other end of the beach winked in the sunlight.

Here it was. Australia's most famous beach.

And my first thought was, "Oh. That's it?"

Bondi is, sad to say, a bit tacky. A bit cheesy. A little bit like a crumbling English seaside. Except it was boiling. And there were hot, tanned, buff surfers and tiny, trim, bikini-clad women. Everywhere.

Bondi is far shorter than Manly but the sweep of sand is much thicker and softer. But the bars and cafes which line a lot of the beach in the North are set a long way back from the sand (for the most part). The wall alongside the walkway has graffiti art with messages about safe sex and RIP messages. Instead of being funky, it looks tacky. Everything from the pavilion to the cheap tack shops look worn and dated and, except for a few modern eateries, the whole place looks tired.

Nonetheless, we had a lovely time. We strolled to the cliffs north of the beach and ate foccacia sandwiches on the small nature reserve on the hill overlooking the beach. We sat in the shade and read. We wandered along the shops and eateries and then went home to Manly. A far nicer, more upmarket, less tacky, more tasteful place to live.

On Sunday - another scorcher of a day - I spoke to four of my best friends in the whole world - Sally, Lizzie, Hannah and Beth - all gathered at Salsa's house. It was great to catch up with old friends and it felt like I was there with them. Great to speak to you guys.

Then it was off to the city to meet up with Dani and Taz. We walked to Chinatown and saw some of the New Year celebrations. A dragon danced in what looked like the doorway to an adult lounge while men from a Kung-fu troop banged drums and clanged bells. Then the loudest fireworks went off while people crammed onto the pavements opposite to watch - a rather dangerous position given that cars were still whizzing across this intersection.

We squeezed through the pedestrianised streets of Chinatown - full of market stalls and absolutely rammed with Asian people. It felt like China. It smelled like China. The weather was like China. Well, what we imagined anyway.

Then we went to Tropfest - the world's largest short film festival. There must have been at least 25,000 people in the park, under the stars, surrounded by lit up skyscrapers, watching fantastic short films after an afternoon lazing with picnics and beers. It was all free, all peaceful, all fun. Australia really knows how to do this outdoor thing.

This morning, Tuesday morning, Danielle and I woke up at 5.20am, dressed, and hauled ass to meet Steve and John (the chaps I met on the plane) to walk to North Head and see the world's largest ocean liner - Queen Mary II - enter Sydney harbour.

But near the top of the hill - about a 20 minute walk from Manly wharf - we saw a steady stream of people coming towards us and a line of cars crawling back down the hill. The bloody thing had arrived 35 minutes early - at 5.45am and by the time we reached the viewpoint had already docked.

We weren't the only ones going in the wrong direction but undeterred, we walked to the viewpoints anyway. It was stunning in the early dawn light. It couldn't have been a more beautiful morning for the Mary to enter. It was dark when she came through the heads and she sailed through the harbour as the sun rose. Wonderful.

As D and I caught the ferry to work, a plane wrote her name in the sky (the ship - not Danielle's - that would be weird) and dozens of people milled at the side of the ferry to photograph her docked at the naval base - she's too large to dock at Circular Quay.

So we were rather pissed off to miss her arrival so went for eggs florentine and coffee before work. But we'll hopefully see the QE2 as she docks at Circular Quay this evening and then, after a nap, climb North Head again with blankets, champagne and snacks and wave farewell to QM2 as she departs at 11pm.

Pictures taken by onlookers this morning... what we SHOULD have seen...

Canoes, editing and the best brownies ever...

2007-02-08T11:43:00.000+11:00

Well I am currently recouping after celebrating Danielle's birthday on Wednesday (Feb 7).

It was a harcore day of fun and I hope we gave her an awesome 21st. The last few weeks, her sister and I had been emailing back and forth and planning her surprise arrival from New Zealand.

Jen arrived on Tuesday afternoon and I dragged Danielle off to the outside bar at Sydney Opera House under the pretext of buying her a cocktail. I was massively nervous trying to look for her sister while keeping up conversation and trying to prevent any kind of suspicion entering her mind.

Then thankfully I Jen striding towards us. I turned to Danielle as casually as possible and mid-sentence said: "That girl looks really familiar..." D did a double take and then burst into tears. After the hugs and questions, we drank bubbly in the sunshine sat next to the Opera House and with the harbour bridge in sight and filled Danielle in on plans for her birthday.

The next morning D woke up bright and early at 7.30am, despite her insistence she needed as much sleep as possible. So we headed for the Honolulu Grill, where Steve records one of his podcasts In Latte Veritas (click here for an episode of The Rules podcast - one of three featuring Yours Truly). During our slap-up breakfast and large coffees, I gave Danielle part 1 of her present - a magazine I had designed and printed for her.

I made up a 12 page magazine with stories and photographs from her friends and family - and I really enjoyed designing it despite the fact that time was really not on my side. D and I spend all our time together - at work, at home, going out... so it was pretty hard to make up excuses for being at work - especially on a Saturday.

Her friends and family wrote some of the most amazing things about her - which is a reflection of the fun-loving, happy person she is - but it also made me reflect that we don't realise what our nearest and dearest actually think of us until an occasion like this - or upon someone's death...

So when merry later on in the day, I resolved to tell people EXACTLY what I thought of them - cue many overemotional displays of hugging and love. Luckily, I didn't bump into anyone I disliked...

After breakfast, D opened her presents and she and Jen went for a massage. It was then time to hop on a bus to Spit for an hour of kayaking around Middle Harbour. It was absolutely stunning canoeing across this part of the harbour - Danielle and I sharing a two-man kayak, Jen speeding off in hers.

Our friends thought it rather hilarious that I had my mobile with me on the trip and that when they called (to sort out plans for the evening), I was sat in a canoe chatting to them.

Then it was delicious fish and chips from a shop next to the kayaking place before rushing home to get glammed up. We sped to catch a ferry to the city and Minus 5 bar.

The temperature of the bar is actually -15C so we had to get kitted up in huge jackets with furry hoods, gloves and Ugg boots. Inside, the bar is quite small with everything made of ice - chairs (covered in animal skins), tables, sculptures, chandeliers...

We spent quite a lot of time fondling them and getting our 'free' cocktail - a wonderfully alcoholic concoction involving peach schnapps and most probably vodka and mango juice. Jen seemed to be suffering from hypothermia as she kept telling us how hot she was and pulling her jacket off, while I shivered inside my hood and looked a lot like Kenny.

It was certainly an experience - the alcohol hits you pretty quickly at those temperatures. After we finished our drinks we attempted to eat out ice glasses and caused havoc trying to break them into chunks and smashing mine all over the floor to the disgust of the barmaid.

Minus 5 only allow you to stay in the bar for half an hour (employees can only work for two hours at a time in the cold zone), when a pager around your neck begins to beep and you have to leave. Good job really - I was freezing me wotsits off.

So we warmed up with some more cocktails downstairs in the Lenin bar with John and Steve - the barman accidentally making me the world's most alcoholic raspberry and champagne mojito. Tasty.

Then it was back to the ranch to properly beautify and meet our friends and supposedly make faijitas. We never got around to that and instead drank wine and champagne, lit a sparkler or two and D opened some more presents from our friends. Obviously it was then time to meet the crew at the hostel where we drank and danced and I told everyone how they touched everyone's lives in positive ways (eek!) and then on to the Steyne. Danielle even got up to sing Counting Crows at karaoke - with a little help from the rest of us.

Then at 2.30am we went for our swim in the sea (Danielle had even bought special pants for the occasion...). Jen decided to head for the worst rip on the beach and be oblivious to our shouts to come back into shallower water, whereupon a random naked aussie chick called Fiona decided to demonstrate how strong the current was by sitting me down in the sand at the water's edge as the waves washed in and out. There was half a beach in my underwear after that.

So this has been the main focus of my week - prepping D's magazine and events and keeping everyone informed. That and eating Thai food, fun afterwork drinks (where we told our bosses rather emphatically that we aren't paid enough - well we aren't!) followed by an RnB night out, dvds, an afternoon of drinking and catching up in the sun and work...

We finish up at Fairfax two weeks today (Friday) and next week will be training temps to take our place (ha ha ha!). Think they will genuinely miss us here - our stupidity and jokes rather than our actual work though...

Oh but how could I forget our 'criminal' fun recently...?!! Last week one of the lads mentionned a friend of his from the hostel would be kipping on the floor for a few days. "His name's Sonny, do you know him?" Nope never heard of him.

However, the following day, the whole of Manly was due to hear about him. On the front of the Manly Daily newspaper was a large article on how two British backpackers had been fleeced by a guy called Sonny after staying in his apartment. They said he'd taken all their money...

I was reading this on the ferry on the way to work and nudged Danielle - surely this couldn't be the same guy? But yes, of course, anyone knowing our little wheeler dealer Max would know this is EXACTLY the kind of person he would attract...

So when I got home after work I was not that surprised to find a group of lads sat watching dvds and for Max to announce that Sonny was a criminal and had I seen the Manly Daily?

Sonny was mortified and said he had been to see the police and straightened it out - something about a misunderstanding and borrowed money...

However all the girls felt uncomfortable with him staying - especially when many of the lads we knew said they wouldn't trust him. It erupted that night when he refused to leave the flat in case he was recognised, the lads left and we girls were stuck with the dilemma of staying in to make sure this unknown didn't make off with our 'valuables' or going out and having fun... we chose the latter of course but it pushed our Swedish lovelies over the edge - they moved out the following day.

But sad as we are, my life has been perked up immeasurably by the discovery of the world's best brownies. Downstairs at Darling Park there is a coffee shop. It sells moist, crumbly, nutty and wonderful wonderful brownies. I said I was travelling to widen the waistband... I am succeeding very very well, thanks for asking...

Sydney's best party...

2007-01-29T14:57:00.000+11:00

Australia Day cocktails with Dani

Well another week has flown by in a haze of work, drinks, dancing, dvds and sunshine.

To be honest the days are rolling into one another right now. I'm enjoying being in a work routine but it is tiring. But who can complain when they catch a ferry to and from work in the sunshine everyday?

The last week has included a party at the hostel, a night out dancing at The Steyne (has to have been a Wednesday), a barbecue (where else but Shelley Beach) and delicious Thai food which made me homesick, would you believe, for that crazy country. Or as my buddy Paul calls it, the land of thighs.

Friday was Australia Day - a national holiday to celebrate everything good about the country. There were parties everywhere, barbecue breakfasts on the beach and crazy activities such as thong throwing (that's flip flops to us) contests,a record attempt to get the most people on inflatables in a line (inflatable thongs no less) and all sorts of other crazy stuff.

Being a rare day off, we spent the morning in bed and then wandered to meet Steve, who was patrolling the beach on life saving duty, before lunch at Emily's cafe. As it was her boss's birthday the employees and friends were having a sing song in the courtyard outside. A chap with a keyboard, another with a guitar, some awesome singers and songs from Crowded House to The Beatles to Norah Jones and Counting Crows - it was a lot of fun.

Dani and I then went for summer cocktails at a funky new bar a couple of doors away - lychees, elderflower and gin - yum!

The real peak of the week was Sunday - my housemate Emily's 20th. She's Swedish and it is their equivalent of our 21st birthday.

We woke up and bought fresh croissants and french bread from the bakery and ate them with cream cheese and sweet chilli sauce, drinking lattes and bellinis, wearing paper hats made by Danielle and having a dance in the sunny living room.

Then Dani arrived, followed shortly by the Kiwis - Kylie, Anneka and Chrissy, who had brought a penis-shaped chocolate cake. It was complete with licorice public hair, a piercing and sweets in the shape of lips and teeth!

After a few more drinks, we piled into cabs to take us to Greenwood Hotel where Sounds on Sunday is held. We went to a party here on Boxing Day and this was another massive event - Ministry of Sounds tour and Kid Kenobi playing a live set.

We arrived massively early (just after 2pm) as we didn't have tickets, met a load of other friends from the hostel and sat in the sun listening to wicked music, chatting and drinking wine.

Later it picked up and we danced the afternoon away in a courtyard surrounded by skyscrapers of North Sydney. Man they looked amazing all lit up against the night sky (when rather intoxicated of course). It was an awesome night that ended way too soon so we hopped in a ca back to Manly and made a (short-lived) trip to Ceruti's bar. Work was pretty hard on Monday!

Norway and France do the Blue Brothers at Sounds on Sunday

Bushfires, 40C and fine wine

2007-01-23T12:48:00.000+11:00

So we decide to go wine tasting in the Hunter Valley this weekend - on the hottest day this summer. And yes we did get caught up in the bushfires...

Hunter Valley is like the desert. Seriously. Hot, dry, brown and with little shade anywhere. So probably not the smartest idea when it is pushing 40C in Sydney. In Hunter it was clearly over that.

Still we had a lovely day on Sunday. Took us a while to get going (not my fault for a change), picking up people in the van - which has now been named Bruce the bus - and all squeezing in. It was the same group as last week - Michelle, Paul, Dani, Taz, Danielle and Tom plus Michelle's two Irish friends Jan and Karen.

So off we went with the windows down and system up. But with just pure hot air blowing through - it was a sticky but scenic ride over the Hawkesbury River and north to Hunter Valley which is near Newcastle.

We arrived just after midday and headed straight for Peterson's House - the sparkling wine kingdom of Hunter Valley. We'd had some recommendations for where to visit from some friends at work so we had a few places to aim for out of the hundreds of wineries dotted around the valley.

The sparkling wine here was delicious - the house 'gateway' sparkling (just $17.50 - seven quid) was lovely and light and refreshing and they some lovely sparkling reds too. The sparkling Merlot was great - sadly you can only buy these from the cellar door.

Then it was on through the vineyard-covered valley - with views of Mount Sugarloaf and the Watagan Mountains around us - to Hungerford Hill (not so impressed though nice building), Tempus Two (pretty posh and bit snotty - pics below), Brokenwood, Lindemans as well as McGuigans cheeses and a small producers place for tasty olives, cheeses, pates, olive oils and preserves... it was pretty heavenly. Even if it was bloody hot.

Rather hilariously (for us), Paul and Michelle had decided, for some unknown reason, not to wear shoes. This meant they had to hop skip and jump from the van across boiling tarmac and red-hot gravel to the coolness of the wineries.

We weren't overly impressed by the quality of the wines - apart from the sparklies at Petersons and some of the very expensive ones - or by the attitude of some of the staff at the cellar doors. Clearly they took one look at us and thought - stingy travellers.

As my friend Dani noted on her MySpace blog, people here can seem very friendly on the one hand, but incredibly narrow-minded on the other. There can be quite racist attitudes here and there is way more conformity to dress styles and the way of life.

People dress fashionably in town but few seem to go out of their way to wear anything unusual - there may be a hint of hippy clothes but it will be hippy chic, there may be an element of gothic but it will be in smoky eye make-up than an expression through clothes or stark make-up. In short, Sydney can seem a little bland, a little narrow and a wee bit unexciting compared to vibrant cities such as London or Paris.

Of course that's not to say I'm not having a ball. I enjoy my job and it really is a beautiful place to live and work.

Anyway... we left Hunter around 5pm when the wineries were shutting up for the day. After a bite to eat, we hit the road for what should have been a two-hour trip.

But near Hawkesbury River we saw huge queues leaving the pacific highway and then hit massive queues up through the cuttings of Ku-ring-gai National Park.

We thought maybe there had been an accident but as we crawled along we began to see smoke on the horizon and realised there were some serious bush fires ahead.

Danielle had recently taken the wheel so I was upfront with her (luckily not sat on the bench over the engine any longer which was hotter than hell itself) and was stunned by the huge plumes of smoke discolouring the sky.

But once we had passed these clouds of grey smoke, the traffic did not speed up and we remained inching forward. The heat was stifling and we saw many people pulled up on the central reservation and hard shoulder with overheated engines.

Dani, Karen and Michelle jumped out and took a walk along the hard shoulder - picking up people who were also taking a break from sitting in their cars, wandering to see how far the queues stretched or trying to make it to the emergency telephones.

The girls running to jump back in the van...

At our junction, traffic was completely diverted from the highway but we sped up for a while only to hit more queues and to see huge black plumes of smoke and a red smudge on the horizon. We passed frighteningly close to red bilious clouds on our left while passing suburbs on our right - the train track and a line of trees shielding us from the flames and clouds of smoke.

The adjacent freeway to the pacific highway was completely shut and we later learned that noise barriers were burned and that flames had been leaping across the section of the Pacific Highway that had been closed off. More than 900 hectares has been raized and the following day at work we could see the smoke clouds gathering on the horizon.

Trainlines and the highways were closed and people were travelling up to Palm Beach to get the little ferry across the water to get home to the north. It was a thrilling but frightening experience and horrifying to think of the people in the nearby suburbs having their homes threatened with little anyone could do. The helicopters flying overhead waterbombing the flames seemed so small in comparison to the raging fires.

Elsewhere, Danielle and I did a few hours in the customer service department at Fairfax on Saturday, we waved farwell to another two friends on Saturday night at Shelley Beach and had a fun night out dancing at The Boatshed in Manly on Friday night.

This week promises the theatre, drinks at the Opera bar and Sounds on Sunday (the daytime party we went to on Boxing Day) this weekend for Emily's birthday, and planning Danielle's 21st celebrations. And work of course...

Best blog in the world....

2007-01-19T10:17:00.000+11:00

... no it's not mine

My lovely friend Dani has a blog on her Myspace site and it is so funny and conjures up the whole spirit of last weekend. Plus she remembers heaps of details I forget. Star!

Her blog on the Blue mountains...

"blue mountains, possums, a light house and a steep railway ride

".,,We arrived at about 7, they [the mountains] are stunning, not really mountains at all (they are but are not really high) the range is just very extensive and covered in pristine forest. We bumped along the dirt roads to find a great secluded spot under the eucalyptus trees - a massive canopy of eucalyptus, blanketed above us. We set up our tents, collected firewood ever so wary of the world renowned venomous Australian creatures, the spiders, snakes and of course drop bears ready to attack with only the slightest provocation we cleared the area of any available wood

"The fire starter himself, Mr taz set to work on what has to have been one of the best camp fires in the history of camping. The first beer was cracked open very swiftly and the conversation began to flow, rather loudly to compete with the sounds of the wild echoing through the canopy and tunneling into our clearing. Hunger however began to creep in, taking over everyones senses...

"We got out the saussies and realised that we had no grill, well done, ten points to us. But then the boys had an idea, like I have never seen before.. The rocks around the fire had heated up pretty quickly, so they moved two rocks into the middle of the fire, cleared the flames to the sides and cooked all the saussies on the rocks, rock on. delicious. a couple of rounds of I have never ensued ( very clean I must add, we just wanted to hear each others traveling/ camping/ life stories more than anything) and by the time the rain started to fall we were ready to lay down our contented heads. As we were eating our sausies and bread we saw a little visitor eyeing us, timidly shuffling around the outskirts. However he very quickly sussed out the mellowness and good vibes and ventured into the circle of friends, he wandered around and decided on taz... walking up to him licking him on the back. the POSSUM licked him!

"I woke up to sounds like I have never heard before (pun intended). The sky was cracking open . cockatoos , millions of them were squawking in the trees above, every now and then they would all do call together and then it sounded like I was underneath a volcano. I stuck my head out of our cozy tent to smell the fresh, clear morning air and saw all the birds littering the roof of the canopy, stunning. After a brekkie of samies with cheese, sausages and chips we packed up and headed for the heart of the blue mountains.

"Golly its stunning, charlie, danielle and I walked down into the valley, its a steep vertical downward walk through the forest, past the waterfalls, into the depth of the jungle, so so cool. but lost tom half way, where does he always go?

"At the bottom we took the scenic railway up, its awesome, but very freaky a sheer climb straight up, its the steepest railway in the world. and we sat in the front, looking over, I held on tight, my heart exploding out of me and my legs jelly.

"We spent the rest of the afternoon driving and walking through the little towns, up a few more hills and had a delicious lunch on the grass in a very quaint, however superficial town called Leura. the drive back was a much quieter affair in contrast to the very loud, out of tune, excited drive up (we got through every show tune, played a bit of famous names and even got onto old MacDonald, the best rendition I have ever heard- what sound does a kangaroo make?). We went to the hostel last night for a bit of a jam with hostel friends and to say bye to some people leaving for aussie travels today, it was a great ending to a super cool weekend."

AND BACK TO ME....
It's a great week - weather-wise at least. It is very very hot and beautifully sunny now. Summer really is here with temperatures in the high 20s and Sunday set to be 36C or something ridiculous like that. It's all very well when you can jump in the ocean of course.

But this Sunday Dani, Taz, Paul, Danielle, Paul's lady Lindsey and possibly Tom or Michelle, and I are taking ANOTHER road trip. We are heading to Hunter Valley for some wine tasting. Paul has kindly offered to be the designated driver so the rest of us are going to have a jolly day tasting the best of the regions wine :) Can't wait.

Apparently there are lots of places to sit outside, sip wine and look over the vineyards so if it's a scorcher it's going to be great. We were supposed to go up on Saturday after Dani finished work for the Starlight cinema (movies under the stars) but Danielle and I are being responsible. We have been offered well-paid work in a different department at Fairfax publishing from 12 to 8pm and it's probably going to be mind-numbing - though that's ok with us after the stress of our week-day jobs.

Danielle at work today...

The view from our office window - the aquarium and wildlife world in the foreground. Sometimes we see anjimals!

This week has been CRAZY busy and I swear we are not well-paid enough for the high-level of responsibility. I mean I'm responsible for getting whole magazines to press, making sure everyone is on deadline, setting deadlines and all this malarky for a whole host of magazines... EVERYTHING was going wrong like my Mac breaking, deadlines out of whack, adverts not coming through on time, problems with pages... still, keeps me busy...

On Tuesday night, we had a barbecue down at Shelley Beach again. Well, we ate at home for cheapness and then joined Dani, Taz, our housemates and other hostel people on the beach for a really lovely and chilled out evening with a few glasses of wine as the sun went down and then under the stars. They were really bright and we stargazed at Orion's Belt and Saturn - strange that the constellation is upside down here. Dani laid out her rules for life, which included friends come first, always say yes to friend's suggestions, and don't compare yourself to anyone. I can't think of the others but I'm sure the two of us had an epiphany...

Freshwater Beach

Last night (Thursday), Emily, Danielle and I walked to Freshwater Beach and sat with a bottle of red wine near the beach and chatted about everything and anything. It has been a good week all in all.

Camping it up...

2007-01-15T10:44:00.000+11:00

The sun is shining, summer is here. So what have we been doing? Camping! Oh and getting horrid colds of course.

Had a stinker of a cold - horrible to feel that ill and not be snuggled up with a duvet - because it's too hot! Danielle and I moved into our flat two weeks ago. It's a bit of a squeeze - there are four girls in one room and officially two lads in the other but we currently have two friends staying with us as well! It's lovely - got a balcony and big living room and the people are great. Unfortunately we can't use the pool or gym as the lads were banned when they first moved in - due to friends of their's 'making out' in the pool. ho hum.

But this weekend, a group of us decided to head for the hills - or more aptly - run to the mountains. On Saturday afternoon, seven of us loaded up Paul's van and bought supplies for the trip...

This is officially the best thing in Australia - drive thru booze shops. Amazing.

The campsite felt a bit Blair Witch when we got there - an almost deserted clearing at the end of an immensely bumpy track and many kilometres from civilisation. What, we pondered, would happen if one of us was bitten by a spider in the dunny? Luckily, we did not have to find out.

Taz had the boy scout skills and got us all collecting twigs - the girls (apart from Dani) gingerly picking our way through the bush trying to avoid anything creepy or crawly which may do us some damage. Once the two tents were up, we lit our fire and cracked open our cider (me), beer (most people), whiskey (Irish Michelle).

It was then time to attempt to cook our food. Suddenly cooking sausages on an open fire seemed a tricky task. Using our best Ray Mears skills, the boys put a rock in the middle of the fire and we flambed our sausages - it was a long, slow process but eventually we all got to eat some sausage sandwich.

It was a great evening, sat around chilling and chatting. Playing 'I've never ever..' and telling stories about where we had been and so on.

Danielle and I slept in the van. We were all up early the next morning and re-lit the fire for some more sausages. This time we had a new method of cooking them - placing the sausage in tongs and resting it at the side of the fire - a quicker way to cook them but it did mean we had to do them one at a time. Crisp sandwiches suddenly seemed very appealing...

We then jumped in the van and headed for Katoomba - site of the Three Sisters (below). It was a beautiful day - hot and sunny and we started a walk around the cliff tops. Taz, Paul and Michelle headed back to the van to drive around and meet us and the rest of us continued on. It was a lovely walk - looking down into the valley, hearing birds calling and walking through rainforest and scrubland.

Dani, Danielle and I lost Tom among a group of Asian tourists but continued towards the bottom of the valley and the train back up. It is the world's steepest railway (52 degrees) and it is pretty scary. The carriages are open, there is nothing to hold you in and you get into it and are almost lying down in the seat so that when it goes almost vertical, you don't fall out. We sat right at the front so we could see the ground dropping away below.

At the top we met the group and headed off to Leura - a nearby town. It's very touristy but quite quaint. It was almost like being in a touristy part of the UK - Bouton-on-the-Water or something. We had a picnic under the shade of some trees on a strip of grass in the middle of the road. we then decided to see where the road took us and directed ourselves randomly - ending up in the middle of nowhere along a bumpy dirt track up into the moutains.

High up, we disembarked and climbed to the top of a flat mountain. It was scorching up there and with no shade - just a withered tree and lots of short, stubby grass and boulders. The view was great though - across valleys of very dry and dead-looking trees to purpley mountains in the distance. Easy to see how bushfires start and spread so quickly.

Then it was homeward-bound for a friend's leaving party. Many of our friends have left in the last two weeks with a large contingent leaving on Jan 6. We lost Christine and Kim, our fab fab fab Canadian friends who went up the coast and the Welshies (including the guy I had been seeing, Gareth) among others.

It was also the day Danielle's father Brian and sister Laura left for the UK. So the Friday night was a big farewell party which began with a lovely meal at the Bavarian Beer Cafe - Dani, taz, Danielle, her father and sister, Kim, Christine and me - before heading out to Cerutti's.

The previous Wednesday was supposed to be Team Canada's last night so we had celebrated at The Steyne in our usual style...

Fireworks and fun

2007-01-03T11:25:00.000+11:00

It has to have been the best New Year's Eve.

To be stood on a hilltop at Sydney Harbour, looking out toward the bridge and Opera House, among dozens of my friends and watching $4 million of fireworks was just spectacular.

We congregated at Bradley's Head in the late afternoon - a picnic area near Taronga Zoo (see photo of the view on previous post) - with champagne and enthusiasm.

The weather, though sometimes grey, was not raining as predicted and it was warm. We sat on blankets, over 50 of us from the hostel, and watched twin boys fighting on the grass, older people complaining about our loudness and the slow ascent (or decline - depending on your view) of everyone into a merry mood.

We sat and chatted and drank cider (me) or beer (most people) or vodka (the hardcore) and watched as a red question mark lit up the centre of the harbour bridge.

Waiting for the fun at Bradley's Head on NYE.

The theme for the NYE 2006-7 celebrations was Diamond Night in the Emerald City and later the question mark turned into a huge glowing diamond in the middle of an illuminated coathanger - the name Sydneysiders allegedly give to the bridge. Steve has just pointed out to me that in 17 years here he has never once heard it called that. And neither have I. But nevertheles, it celebrates its 75th anniversary this March.

As dusk fell, hundreds of twinkling boat lights dotted the harbour and the opera house shone out bright as a beacon.

The first firework show at 9pm was awesome and we whooped and cheered and then carried on our fun and games, running behind the toilet block to avoid hour-long toilet queues and getting scratched to pieces, playing with an adorable little boy called Tom whose family took dozens of photos of us, trying to set our friends up or laughing at those already taking a 'nap'.

Midnight suddenly came up upon us and the whole field got to its feet and whooped and cheered through the countdown before the skyline infront of us blazed into colour for a ten-minute spectacle of light. The harbour bridge erupted and even the skyscrapers burst with fireworks. It is supposed to have been the biggest ever firework display at Sydney Harbour Bridge and we all felt awed to actually be there.

When the show was over and we had all wished each other happy new year, we all started to flood out of the field in search of taxis or buses home.

Welsh Gareth (Cheeky face) and I managed to lose everyone and started to walk home when we realised we were moving a lot lot lot faster than any of the free buses or taxis.

As we walked through Mosman, we passed the Lawn Bowls Association and two men were calling out to passers-by to come down as the bar was open and we could learn the game. Our ears pricked up and we bounded down and spent a good half hour learning the tricks and tactics of bowls with the director Pete and the chairman.

It wasn't long before a few fellow stragglers found us and Nelson, Danny Jones, Kate and Rueben joined us to master the game. It was truly comic and we all threw ourselves into it with good humour and gusto. Rueben's attempts to throw us the bowls back saw him banned from the green and later, we decided we had enough bowling experience under our belts and made our way up through Mosman and eventually caught a bus home on a comedy ride.

Everyone made their way home in dribs and drabs - some catching buses the whole way or walking miles to flag down a taxi. Some walked the whole way home - a three hour hike before starting the party up at the hostel again.

Since then, the mood at the hostel and in Manly has been somewhat sober. Apart from the Welshies 'finding' a cardboard cut-out of Robbie and adopting him as their new drinking partner, most people have been recovering or just simply preparing to leave.

A whole contingent of our friends leaves over the next few days so, as Danielle and I finally move into place with friends this weekend, everyone moves on. The irony.

Still, with seven of us sharing a two bed flat - life is going to be interesting in our new place. I have been spending most of my days there recently, either scaving a bed at the hostel or the sofa at the flat until Team Canada move on.

Sounds on Boxing Day with Dani and Danielle

Christmas with the Devlins

Christmas shrimp on the barbie

Dinner with the Devlins

New year? new diet...

2006-12-28T22:14:00.000+11:00

In the Christmas spirit at a beach barbecue on Dec 22

Christine gives me a Christmas kiss

You know I love being Rudolph

Christmas morning in Manly

Canadian Kim shows goodwill to all men

Dani is thrilled to be a Christmas jester

Well very Merry Christmas and Happy New year to everyone. I've been rubbish at updating this blog - been having way too much fun? Mais bien sur!

Christmas was very strange away from friends and family - and to be in the warm sunshine. The forecast for Christmas weekend was rain, thunder, rain and more rain. But the sun shone down brightly on Christmas day and made Manly feel like the best place to be in the world.

When Danielle and I finished work on Friday we went to Cargo bar at Darling Harbour with some of the imaging guys and Danielle's sister Laura and sat in the boiling hot sun sipping white wine and wanting to throw ourselves into the water to escape the heat.

It didn't feel like breaking up for Christmas, rather like we had a summer holiday to look forward to.

I returned to Manly Backpackers that night - away from the comfort of Steve's flat while Danielle went to the apartment her family is renting over the holiday period.

There were quite a few new faces and a many familiar ones too and we all jollied down to Shelley beach for a barbecue - decked out in Christmas gear and feeling remarkably unfestive nevertheless. However we soon rectified this by singing Christmas tunes very loudly.

The night turned into a party at Cerutti's bar - it felt great to be back among my friend's again who all look out for each other no matter how long you have been there for.

It felt so strange to be away from family and friends at this time of year. Being on the other side of the world, in a place so like home but so far apart in terms of time zones, temperature and distance, I missed everyone so much even though being in the heat and the sunshine is fantastic.

Luckily, I had Danielle's wonderful family to look after me. After a day spent dyeing my hair (it has gone purple? black? see top photo) I met up with them on Saturday night at the Rocks - the "historic" part of Sydney near the harbour bridge. Her father Brian and sister Laura have come over from Glasgow for Christmas and Jen had flown over from New Zealand. We sat drinking wine outside an Irish pub listening to live music in the warm dusk.

On our way to Darling Harbour for dinner we heard live music coming from another bar so ventured in for one drink and ended up staying to watch a talented duo play fantastic songs from The Beatles to Oasis and dancing away.

At Darling Harbour we went for a delicious slap-up Italian meal - and I really felt welcomed into their family. Danielle and I decided the night was still young and that we needed to dance the night away so grabbed a taxi back to Manly and went to party at Cerutti's again.

I was feeling pretty homesick in the lead up to Christmas and even missing the cold and the dark so I could crave another mince pie instead of an ice cream. Just so I could cuddle up on the sofa with a duvet. Just so I could drink tea all day and eat mountains of food with my family.

I realise the rain in Britain isn't quite so stinging when listening to carol singers, how the wind merely makes fairy lights dance and make you feel cosy and warm in the comfort of your home.

On the other hand, two weekends ago this was the weather. This was the view....

It was the best hangover cure in the world - going to Taronga Zoo with Danielle, her cousin Nicky and his girlfriend Cheryl.
We fed giraffes and observed snakes, we saw a komodo dragon and were excited to see lions and tigers and bears - oh my!

So Christmas Day itself was warm and sunny too. I stayed at Danielle's flat the night before and we sang carols walking around the block in the rain and in the spa bath which didn't work (so we ended up just having a bath together instead of sharing a jacuzzi!).

In the grey morning light we opened our presents - they even bought me some stocking fillers - and had breakfast before heading to Manly around lunchtime.

Danielle and I headed to the hostel where everyone was getting merry and had already eaten lunch. We danced and had a drink with them before meeting the rest of D's family on the Corso. By this time the sun was shinning brightly so we went for a drink on the Corso and then headed to Shelley Beach for the barbecue.

Some of our friends were already there and we had a spot in the shade of some trees. Jen and I ran straight for the sea and then we barbecued our food and drank champagne. Danielle's dad was playing guitar, someone had a flute - there was a tambourine I'm sure...

We then played french cricket and some more friends came to join us. Kim climbed a tree and Christine and I played tag with the cutest little boy I have EVER seen.

We then partied at the hostel (after I left my wallet at the beach and had it kindly recovered by a random) and I tried to ring home many many times but had no success. Combination of drunkenness, phone cards being dead and a broken phone sadly.

On Boxing Day a massive group of us went to Sounds of Boxing Day. It is a huge party at a hotel in North Sydney. They have massive speakers in the courtyard and tons of rooms with different music. Thousands of people danced in the sunshine from 2pm onwards. It was great fun.

Now however it is back to work and real life again. Hopefully will be moving into a flat once two of my friends move out - great to have a base but sad to lose my lovely Canadian friends. More pics of Christmas will be posted soon!

Welsh Anthony

Mr Devlin - also known as Santa

Welsh boys and Geordie Steve barbecuing on the beach

Working girl...

2006-12-13T16:54:00.000+11:00

Am now in the full swing of working life here in Sydney. Last week Danielle and I moved into Steve's apartment in Mosman - a rather well-to-do suburb North of Sydney.

Working full-time five days a week has curbed our drinking and socialising - particularly as we are now two short bus rides from our friends in Manly. This is excellent for our waistlines and wallets on the one hand: on the other, we now enjoy buying cappucino's and flat whites, posh salads and pastas for lunch and shopping in our lunch hour.

I now want to have posh working outfits, iPods, a laptop, nice phone and all the trappings of working in the city. Sadly, the pay is pretty crud once the high taxation has been ripped from my weekly salary.

Kindly, Mr Steven Lewis (pictured above with Danielle and me) has allowed us to continue to rent his son's bedroom from him now that he has return from Thailand. We were delighted to accept until we discovered that the cockroaches we kept encountering in his flat were not just because of Sydney's humid climate and warmth. Oh no. He has been breeding them so his son can feed them to the bearded dragon lizard (Wesley) and it's wild and vicious friend the blue-tongued lizard (Bluey). Nice.

Thankfully, we have today been informed that the said cockroaches have been carpet bombed with insect killer and I expect a veritable graveyard of corpses upon my return home this evening.

Danielle and I managed to get to our Manly Wednesday night haunt last week - The Steyne. Karaoke and great music afterwards. There is always a good crowd there of serious and not-so-serious karaoke singers. A group of us from the hostel sang - very badly - last week. We were missing Jose though - our Chilean friend who sings Ricky Martin fantastically - who has moved on now.

During the day we were taken for our first work meal. Hannanprint - the printers for the magazines - took us to Blackbird Cafe at Cockle Bay Wharf (left) for a slap-up meal.

On Friday night we went for after-work drinks with the team from Mag Ops. Everyone migrates to The Shelbourne pub across the road from our office and we got to know the imaging guys and everyone from the team a little better. We then gorged on Subway before attempting to go to Manly.

Slightly tipsy, we could only find the bus to Mosman and jumped on that. By the time we got there we were sleepy and decided to go back to the apartment. Once there we realised we were way too tired to make it and ended up falling asleep on the sofa around 10pm. Unfortunately for Brett, a chap we know, he was on his way to visit and was trying to get to us before we headed to bed. He got a speeding ticket, 3 points on his licence, a $230 fine and then discovered I was not answering my phone because I had already fallen asleep. Whoops!

On Saturday, Danielle headed for her friend's 21st birthday while I returned to Manly for a toga party in honour of our friend John leaving. We all partied on the top floor of the hostel and on the balcony - dancing to iPod tunes and generally having a good natter and drink.

This week, we had our work Christmas party - about 35 of us from Magazine and Newspaper operations (the pre-printing bit) at La Cita. The bar at King's Wharf put on a salsa class and we had top quality canapes (lamb cutlets, ribs, chicken thighs, nachos and so on) and sangria with our new colleagues. It was all good fun but luckily we kept ourselves respectable - in fact far more respectable than our bosses...

We are hoping to return to Manly (above) and find somewhere to live there but it is very difficult at this time of year. Many places are let out at high prices to holiday makers and longer term accommodation is for 6 months minimum lease. The penalties for breaking leases are very high here and so we are a bit stumped.

We will stay at Steve's until next week when his mum comes to visit. Danielle will leave for her 5* apartment which her dad is renting for Christmas and New Year for her, her sisters and him. Looks like I will be back at the hostel. Not looking forward to that - mainly because I have accumulated a massive amount of stuff. It all piles up when you are buying things like washing powder and huge economy bottles of shampoo...

The weather here has been crazy. On Monday it was very hot and humid and by mid-afternoon it had clouded over in a dramatic fashion. Here on level 22 of Darling Park (three grey towers right of centre - below), we were watching the storm coming towards Sydney from the west. Forked lightning was soon piercing the grey day. It was spectacular.

Tuesday was then miserable and grey. It was raining and only about 22C - we felt very Christmassy because bright sunshine and Jingle Bells seems like an odd mix to us Brits. Then yesterday, Wednesday, was warm and cloudy but overcast, and today is 35C and sunny. Tomorrow, rain is forecast with temperatures only at 20C. Chilly! So although we're hoping for the beach this weekend (we haven't been since we started work) - it may be dvd's on the sofa again...

New beginnings

2006-12-04T21:06:00.000+11:00

So still no proper pictures (where is that damn cable?) but a quick update.

I now have gainful employment. Gone is the 'marketing assistant' for Richardson and Wrench (pamphleting and telesales), the threat of becoming an events waitress below some upstart I trained when I was 15 or any number of waiting jobs. Instead I am now production coordinator for magazine operations at Fairfax publishing - one of the largest publishing companies in Australia.

Basically it means I am using some of my design skills from days of yore - well the computing packages anyway. I have to set deadlines for advertising and editorial teams, make up a grid of how the adverts and articles will be laid out, put the adverts onto the pages, output all the pages to the printers, get the proofs and dyelines from the printers and deliver them to all the teams involved, reoutput them to the printers and so on and so forth. It's basically the middle ground between advertising and editorial.

My friend Danielle also has a job in the same department and works as advertising coordinator. The money isn't great (we got the jobs through and agency) and the days are very long with the commute by ferry from Manly. The bonus is that it goes past the harbour bridge and opera house - a magnificent sight in early morning light and at dusk.

This week Danielle and I have taken a break from the backpackers and are renting our friend Steve's apartment for the week while he is in Thailand. It is in a suburb called Mosman, which is a bus ride from the city. From the windows of his place we can see the lights of homes around the harbour and across to Manly.

It means we will have a quieter place than Manly and we will have a more civilised week with people over for dinner and supping on wine rather than slapping the bag (of wine) and downing goon.

Danielle, Dani and her chap Taz are hoping to live in an apartment right opposite the beach in Manly. It is on the third floor of a small block and is set back from the beach road so it is quiet. It has a balcony from the living room overlooking the beach and, although quite small, has lovely wooden floors and light rooms. Hopefully we will get our application in tomorrow and secure it.

Hoping to get some more surfing in. Don't think I mentionned in any of the posts so far but Danielle and Dani and I had a surf lesson the other week. The three of us went to Freshwater beach with our instructor Paul to try our hand at riding the waves on a longboard. It was such a glorious afternoon learning to surf at this world-famous beach.

It had been raining all day but as we left the hostel at around 3pm, the sun came out and shone brilliantly through the late afternoon. While one of us attempted not to get bashed about by the waves, the others played in the surf. Dani and I got a bit excited by the whole thing at one point, doing handstands and cartwheels, pirouettes and hornpipes in the water, feeling the sun on our backs, the salt water on our lips and knowing this was the life we were going to live for months to come.

And there was the windsurfing the weekend before last - a free lesson won in the quiz at the hostel several weeks ago. Danielle, Paul and I had a lesson at Balmoral Beach taken by our friend Ash and his hot mate Joel. Much harder than I remembered it from when I was 14. And not good with a hangover!

I have honestly never felt this free in my life. Fickle as the friendships can be in the hostel, among those who are here for the longterm, they are enduring and caring. People look out for each other and a wonderful clique has formed of Welshies, Scots (well, one - Danielle), Poms, Aussies, Kiwis, Canadians, Texans, South Africans, Dutch and so forth. Going back to the hostel on Sunday afternoon having missed a big night out, I found everyone partying on the balcony. They had maybe had two or three hours sleep and were just determined to carry on the party in the sunshine. People were skipping through the bedrooms dancing and laughing.

In one room a Christmas tree 'acquired' from goodness knows where was lit up with fairy lights, the walls covered with wrapping paper, photos of our recent nights out and advent calendars - giving it a santa's grotto edge. Unfortunately I don't have my reindeer costume with me...

Backpacker nickers - John and Steven. Steven has recorded us for his latest podcast of The Rules - as his houseguest, more episodes featuring me are due...

Day 21 in the big brother house...

2006-11-22T13:03:00.000+11:00

Just a quick post (hopefully). I just had to let you know of the comedy that has become Manly Backpackers.

This 'home from home' has turned into the Big Brother house. I love it but it is dirty and smelly. There are parties every night - not just until 1 or 2am but last night's was going on a few rooms away until around 7am.

Fun if you want to party - not if you have work in the morning.

So while Danielle and I were away this weekend two chaps got into a fight. Never much love lost between them anyway but it apparently escalated into a full-out brawl and one threatened to press charges on the other. The police came and one went on the run...

However the chap who was pressing charges decided to skip the hostel without settling his bill.

Then there is the thieving which has been going on. Fingers were pointed at a certain aussie/yank guy and he was kicked out, then reinstated when people protested, threatened with eviction again and now, who knows.

There is the British teenager who is dating a girl who's fiance is coming out in a few days (and a similar situation the other week with a different guy), the threat of closure of the hostel by the council and the waterbombing incident.

Certain merry individuals (I was on the beach I'll hasten to add) decided to waterbomb people passing underneath their balcony and cars at the traffic lights. Complaints aglory.

Plus the complaints from neighbours about noise, loud music and so on, the lack of toilet paper drama, the inability to use power sockets because it sets of the fire alarms....

There is bed-hopping aplenty and drunken dancing, drug taking and noodle-only diets. But before my parents have a heart attack reading this, there are also amazing people here and even the biggest party animals are deep-down decent people and good to have a laugh with.

A group of us made a massive Mexican meal last night, stuck to green tea and watched cheesy movies or watched the pool competition. It can be (fairly) civilised in a studenty way.

But today I am job and flat hunting with a vengeance. It's only the thought I can soon move out that keeps me vaguely sane and Danielle, Dani and her chap Taz are determined to move to the quieter hostel up the road in the meantime.

So there we go. Job-wise I'm still doing the casual marketing work, still applying for bar work, still sending speculative emails to the newspapers around here. And of course, improving my tan on the stunning beach here...

Finally...

2006-11-13T14:09:00.000+11:00

Ok so people are actually thinking I am dead or something because of the lack of posts since I got to Australia.

So no I haven't dropped off the face of the planet despite being upside down here. I keep meaning to post stunning pictures of Manly, the friends I have met, views of Sydney harbour etc, my new wavy haircut...

But sadly every time I think - ah I have time to write my blog, I don't have my camera or uploading cables. Fate conspires against me again.

Still, I have been having a ball here. Manly Backpackers is very noisy and very lively and very fun. I have made some awesome friends here, particularly Danielle, a Scottish chick with as much energy to party as me, and Dani (confusing hey), a South African girl with a huge heart and a loud voice.

Being right next to the beach has been wonderful - runs along it to neighbouring coves, sunning myself on it and yes, even having barbies on it! I'm a true Oz now, right?!

Manly is like a little town all unto itself so there are plenty of shops and bars there and good places to eat. Been doing plenty of shopping to try and make myself look presentable after the horrors of Thai wear. Impossible to miss Thai food because so many restaurants here - but of course at ten times the price.

They love their food here and the food courts in the city are an awesome array of sushi, sandwiches of every shape, size and flavour, Italian etc etc and all really good. I am not getting any thinner unfortunately - will have to step up the running!

I have been into the city a few times. Wandered around the Opera House and Circular Quay next to the harbour bridge, visited the 'historic' rocks area (their history basically runs 'There were some aborigine folk here but we don't know much about them' so talks mostly about convicts arriving a few years ago and that's it), went to the Museum of Contemporary Arts. And shopped quite a lot.

Last weekend a group of us had a night out at the city at Chinese Laundry (awesome name) and this weekend, Danielle and I decided to get out of the small world of Manly Backpackers and came to Funk House hostel in Kings Cross.

It's true what they say about this area - walking around there are prosititutes available at ANY time of day, plenty of adult shops and peep shows. But also some wicked bars - one of which OPENS at 7am on a Sunday. Hilarious. Haven't made it quite that far yet but pretty close!

This weekend we have managed to do some touristy things like walk around Potts Point and to the Botanical Gardens, sitting by the harbour with views over the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. Can't quite believe I'm here still and I never get tired of that view.

We pottered around Darling Harbour - a wharf with bars, cafes, shops and restaurants, an Imax cinema, aquarium etc and went to Chinatown. Everywhere here sounds familiar - Hyde Park, Gloucester Road, Paddington, Kings Cross, St James this and Queen Victoria that.

But it seems Sydney is a lot more compact than London and I'm constantly surprised how quick it is to walk from one side of the central area to the other (not so good in heels mind). Chinatown is virtually nonexistent, King's Cross merges into area around it - it is not like London where each suburb is a small town. Here, each area has its own character but it's just far far smaller.

It makes me appreciate the size and diversity of London, but I love the atmosphere here. If you grow up in the sunshine, next to the beach, how can you not have a sunny outlook on life?

Job hunting has proved to be a little nightmare. The Daily Telegraph interview seemed really positive and the managing editor was a friendly chap. But they decided to give casual reporting shifts to someone with more local knowledge - which is fair enough - but a little disappointing.

So job hunting went on hold for a bit. Still, got a few options and I am 'marketing' for a real estate agency on a casual basis. Very excitingly this involves printing out leaflets, folding them and posting them through people's doors. Taxing. But hey, it's seven pounds an hour.

Also handed out leaflets for some raving loony DVD presentation about how to make your life whole and find inner peace - we had to chase people virtually yelling 'Don't you want inner peace? Can't you find some room for it?!'

Also got a few proper options ticking over and doing a course tomorrow which means I can work in bars and restaurants - it's not what I was imagining but it could be fun and pay well. I am realising that this is truly the first time in my life I don't have to be studying or doing work experience or something like that and it is nice to be able to kick back a bit.

Until I see people in the city with their nice pencil skirts and hot little handbags and I long to join the rat race and feel human again! Plenty of time for that though methinks.

Have also caught up with Steven Lewis a few times, my lifeguarding, blogging, real conversation friend - Danielle and I get a bit stir crazy with hormonally charged 18-year-olds running around the hostel all the time.

It's great to go to better bars and drink proper wine instead of goon (wine in a bag - you have to slap it, it's obligatory).

Had a cold the last few days but I have chased it off with ginger and fruit juices, sudafed capsules and a few nights in. Luckily for my bank balance the fun of going out virtually every night and coming home to dance in room 17 (party central) has definately lost its gloss. An apartment would definately be good!

Thinking about Christmas and New Year now. It's so odd to be wandering around Sydney with all these shops that look and feel like home, with weather like the best British summer days and then to hear Jingle Bells, see Christmas wreaths and wonder where to have a turkey dinner in 80 degree heat in a few weeks time. It's just all wrong.

Still, it was the coldest November day in Sydney since 1905 on Thursday. We spent the miserable day curled up on sofas watching The Notebook and other movies with blankets and hot chocolate. The following day was a scorcher!

Anyway, I think that's pretty much the update from this end. Summary for those who skim read to here (you've done well if you reached the bottom mind!): no job, not much sleep, a lot of fun, a lot of sunbathing, but a realisation responsibility is just around the corner...

Sydney

2006-11-03T13:21:00.000+11:00

Leaving Thailand was strange and hard. Had a pleasant last day in Bangkok posting Christmas presents (so organised for once) and getting CDs of pictures burned and so on.

Had the most hilarious waxing experience ever (I think she thought I wanted to be a porn star) and a lovely foot massage.

The trip to the airport was a nightmare. Horribly I saw a teenager get run over. He was crossing the freeway from the central reservation and a group of boys ran out across the road. This boy almost made it but was clipped by a car and went hurtling up into the air, crashing down on the road and rolling several times. Like something from a film. Not one person got out to help.

His friends had to pick him up and carry him to the reservation and the driver just sat in his car. Vehicles behind stopped but no one helped. I was ina minibus on a sliproad next to where it happened - not much I could do not speaking the language, having all my luggage and so on. Luckily it was right next to a hospital but I don't know if he was even alive still.

Boarding the plane I met John and Steven - an aussie guy from Sydney and a British chap who'd lived here for some time. They took me under their wing and, knowing about the media, were excellent people to run into.

At Sydney, they bought me coffee and suggested I stay at Manly - a beach resort a half hour ferry ride (across Sydney harbour) from the centre. They gave me a lift and Steven took me around the backpackers there and bought me lunch next to the beach with its rough surf and golden sands.

The weather here is a coolish 23C - cold after Bangkok's 35C minimum at the moment. But it will soon be sweltering. Everything seems horribly expensive after Thailand. A big shock.

The hostel I'm staying in is ok. Have been out with Steven and John and their swimming/life guarding friends and Steven took me up the coast to Palm Beach where Home and Away is filmed.

Last night I went out with people from the hostel - great fun. But I am looking forward to getting into an apartment or travelling up the coast. Not sure whether to try and settle somewhere or keep moving while I still have a few funds.

It's a hard life eh.

Farewells...

2006-10-30T13:18:00.000+11:00

Cambodia was a revelation. Poor, blighted by corruption, landmines and sad history, it nevertheless had the friendliest people and a welcoming manner.

For the record, Cambodian men are much better looking than Thai boys.

Tuk tuk drivers had a sense of humour, boys at reception would talk for hours just for the pleasure of it, people waved at buses and boats.

I took a moto on Wednesday evening to find some food. The driver was friendly, chatty and we sang 'Hit the Road Jack' the whole way around Battambang as he tried to find me the take out food I wanted.

Eventually we hit a cheap food stall that looked the part. It was not. I took it back to the hotel and asked the receptionists if I could borrow a bowl and spoon. They were only too obliging and within minutes a group of moto drivers and recptionists had gathered for a chat and a laugh.

I spent ages practicing my Khmer with them - they teaching me phrases such as "I love you" and asking me to take them to Europe so they could earn decent money.

After a while I went to settle down infront of School of Rock on TV and eat my stirfried beef. I don't know if it was actually beef, if it was rancid or not cooked properly but it was the most horrid thing I have ever tasted. Looking closely at it, it looked decidedly dodgy. Dinner became a huge portion of rice, tinted with a hint of the icky sauce.

The next morning, I took a moto tour. My driver was a friendly Battambanger who had many stories to tell about Pol Pot's regime and about the area.

He had been living south of Phnom Penh when the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975. Aged 15, he was split up from his parents, brother and sister and sent to a childrens camp to work. He believes his mother died of malaria and that his father was killed by the soldiers for some small mistake. They were a farming family and not the educated elite.

When the Vietnamese invaded Cambodia in 1979, he fled with hundreds of other people through the jungle to Thailand. He stayed in a refuge camp and worked with the Red Cross until the early 1990s. He returned too Battambang with a woman he had met in the camp and they married and had three children.

His search for his brother and sister proved fruitless and he now believes they died of starvation during the Khmer Rouge regime.

He said he was emotional when visiting spots like the killing caves near Battambang. Up on a hill near a temple, the caves were found filled with skeletons - many people had hidden in the caves from the soldiers, prefering to die ther rather than at the hands of soldiers.

In one cave, an opening in the ceiling had been used by soldiers for killing people. They were thrown into the cave, often being cut by soldiers bayonets before landing on the hard floor.

After walking up to the newly built temple, we went back down the steep hillside to the restaurant where we had left his bike.

We then drove alone a dirt road through rice fields to an old temple on a hill. Pre-dating Angkor Wat, it was a bit of a disappointment after that mighty temple but still very interesting, if another steep climb.

In the central stupa, infront of a Buddha shrine, there was an old woman giving out incense for offerings. She chatted to me in Khmer and I nodded and shook my head to indicate that I didn't understand. She pointed to my skin as if to say it was beautiful and then pointed at her own deep brown wrinkles - as if to say, my skin was once like yours. I wondered what this woman had suffered in her life.

An elderly gent joined us. He could count in English, just about, and he also tried to communicate. He drew his age in the dirt and we practiced saying 76 in Khmer and English. He chatted away to me for some time not really caring that I couldn't understand any of it.

My moto driver and I then drove to the bamboo train. We passed children fishing in streams, buffalo pulling wooden carts, villagers squatted at the side of the road eating from numerous bowls, dozens of children yelling 'hello!' and 'bye bye!', a little boy who high-fived me as I went past, concrete villas and palm leaf huts on stilts, wooden shacks and bumpy paths.

Eventually we arrived at the bamboo train. Not so much a train though - actually a bamboo platform on top of wheels which perch on rails. Villagers use it to get into Battambang.

I shared the 'train' with another tourist, my moto driver and his bike and her driver and bike. Because of our heavy load, any trains we would meet coming in the opposite direction would have to 'make tracks' and get off the single line.

We set off at a fair whack - it is now powered by motor but in Khmer Rouge times was operated by sticking a pole into the dirt - Venice style.

We met people walking the line with food packs strapped onto their backs, a frightened dog with a death wish who could only run straight and refused to veer off the track as he ran for his life, and tourists coming in the opposite direction who had to dismantle their train and get out of our way. It was a bit costly - $5 for the train (which the girl and I shared) but an experience. The track is supposed to be straight but it wiggles and every less than perfect join (most of them) jars your body.

I decided to leave for Bangkok the following day and left at midday on a rickety and overcrowded bus. But I was looked after by a Cambodian lady on her way to Bangkok for business with her sister and niece. She spoke good English and shared her fruits with me and gave me her contact details in case I was ever in Phnom Pehn again.

At the Thai border we switched to a plusher bus - thsi time with mostly backpackers whereas the previous bus had been Cambodians and one other tourist.

In the space of a few miles the bumpy dirt road to Poipet and the border became a smoothly tarmaced highway. Billboard lined the road. 4x4s, sedans and motobikes cruised through the countryside and through small towns which were more technologically advanced and modern than the biggest in Cambodia. It suddenly felt very odd to be in a country so similar to Cambodia yet with so much more.

I wonder how I will adjust to Sydney.

Bangkok is the same as ever. Noisy, busy, bustling, alive. I ventured back to Four Sons Village - overpriced but nice save for the $70 missing from my room. Have mostly been Christmas shopping and buying 'essentials' such as cheap trainers and sparkly shoes, a suit for interviews and so on. Spent way too much but had great fun doing it. Actually spent over 10 hours shopping yesterday...

Also managed to go the Grand Palace and Wat Pra Kaw and Wat Pho too - the big sights in Bangkok.

But today I leave. Time for a foot massage and manicure methinks before my bus. I think I could get back into a materialistic world of nice clothes and manicures quite easily (if I had money). But the sights of Whittard, FCUK, Benetton, Zara, Mango, Molton Brown, Mac, Chanel and so on made me think of home - the oddest thing is that despite the fact it is 35C here and getting warmer day by day, all the fashions in big stores is winter based. The models are cald in scarves and gorgeous sweaters, thick wool suits and berets. It is truly bizarre that sales items are summer wear.

And who'd have thought I'd be lusting after winter woolies after vowing to escape England's cold for as long as possible???

Temples, kids and river life

2006-10-25T20:54:00.000+10:00

The last few days have swept past in a dizzying but delicious pace.

On Saturday evening, Marissa and I met up with her French friend Sandra and Sandra's friend Cellia. They decided to join us the following day in our tuk tuk with Mr Won and see the sights of Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom and also to move to our guesthouse, Queen House Villa.

On my way to an ATM, I saw a little girl who we had been playing with the previous evening and she stopped me to tickle me and talk to me. She didn't ask for money and it was lovely to see her smiling instead of the normal groaning sad noise she, and the others, usually make.

A girl and a boy with one leg soon joined us and carried on the banter. They seemed fun and when the other girl disappeared I chatted to them a little more. As I was about to make tracks to find the others, they said they were hungry and pointed down the street asking if I could buy them some food. It seemed a reasonable enough request but something told me not to.

I told them I had to find Marissa and they walked with me down Bar Street but could not wait outside the bar - they are supposed to stand the other side of the fences at the ends of the street - so they said they would wait for me.

I checked a couple of bars but couldn't see the girls but saw some other friends and two new people and sat with them for a while chatting. I told them about the children and we all said it was better than giving money - which I am loathe to do as it goes straight to parents or some other adults.

Richard and Luke agreed it would be a nice thing to do and Adam and Tish, the new people, agreed. I was feeling guilty for having said I would buy them something and not so I went to find them.

Basically, I wanted to buy them a meal and they directed me to a shop. By this time, I was surrounded by two or three women clutching malnourished babies and two other girls. All pulling me to this one shop. And pointing at baby powder. Which cost $8 for a tin.

I didn't have much choice. I told the girl I thought she was hungry but she did the whole 'my sister...' I knew there was something up with the price but said I would buy it if they agreed to share.

Two girls stayed behind after the others left and were wrenching my arms as I walked, trying to pull off my cheap rings and doing the groaning noise. I felt shattered and upset when I reached my friends.

Adam said he had the same thing happen to him in Nepal. Of course they just return the milk and get the profit.

I left early to go home feeling naive and shaken.

But it was a good move as we had to be up at 4.15am to go to Angkor. Sandra and Marissa were celebrating their reunion until some ungodly hour though!

As we approached Angkor, the suns first rays were breaking the horizon. We had our first glimpse of the towers of the mighty temple in this ethereal light. It was magical walking the bridge over the massively wide moat (more like a lake), seeing Angkor Wat being gradually lit from behind.

When the sun had risen above the towers, we began to explore the grounds. Climbing steep stairways to the top and looking at fascinating bas-reliefs (stone carvings telling a story where the figures and pictures are raised and the background has been chipped away).

We spent hours looking in awe at the work of 11 to 12th century craftsmen. It is truly amazing how they built this temple.

We needed Red Bull after this to perk us up and then headed for Baphuon in Angkor Thom. This mountain temple collapsed and is being restored at the moment and it was interesting to see how the work had come on since the photographs in our guide books.

Marissa and I had split from the other girls as we were taking longer to look around. We chatted to a policeman who was filling in for his friend and selling water and followed some monks through a stone doorway which ended up leading to the Royal Palace.

We took some ridiculous posed photos and chatted to other tourists and then teased some girls selling scarves. We came up with a ploy to put the many sellers off. Simple but we told them we weren't going to buy for $3 or whatever they were asking, we were going to pay them $10, and when they said yes please! we said no no no. we can't do that at that price. You're crazty. We'll give you $20. and so on. It makes people laugh. Marissa has that quality, particularly with children. She has people in stitches just by pulling a funny face.

We bought coconuts and drank the juice sat looking at the palace. As we sat and chatted, we realised the seller was calling out cold drinks! cold coconuts! cold cold cold!!! in different languages and different nationalities walked past. We learned the Chinese for cold from her and tested it out to the delight of some tourists and then learned the Khmer for it too. And goodbye - very useful. We practiced these words on everyone we met on our short walk to the last temple of our tour - Bayon.

It is a very famous temple and rightly so. A jumble of towers, corridors and bas-reliefs. All the towers have faces carved into them on each side of the King at the time. He wanted the temple to show he was looking over his people at all times and protecting them - but it is actually quite ominous to see so many. It was rather spectacular.

We had lunch, met the others and then drove to the Landmine Museum. Here, children survivors of landmines have come to live with Aki Ra (an ex-child soldier who has cleared more than 6,000 mines) and his family in a rehabilitation centre. Other survivors help show people around. Our guide had stepped on a landmine aged 8 and the blast had killed his elder brother and sister who were walking behind him. He lost a leg.

We looked at the different landmines used here and the countries who still haven't signed the anti-mine agreement (US, Vietnam, China, Sri Lanka, Afghanistan...). We learned that it will take between 50 and 100 years to clear all the mines in Cambodia. We learned that both the Vietnamese and Khmer Rouge used mines against their enemies in the 1980s in Cambodia and the dreadful effects they still have today. It is evident in the number of people missing limbs begging in Siem Reap and Battambang. (Donate here to support children and also the continuing clearance of landmines - www.cambodialandminemuseum.org)

Knackered, drained and needing a few hours sleep, it was inevitable something was going to stop us. A tyre on Won's motorbike popped. Luckily there was a souvenir shop over the road where we sat and ate the complementary sweets and drank jasmine tea until he had it fixed.

Later we slept and then Marissa and I decided to stay an extra day in Siem Reap and chill out the following day.

So Tuesday (yesterday) was spent sleeping off the early mornings and late nights, wandering the market Christmas shopping and eating. I managed to donate blood at Angkor Children's Hospital, a place more in need than the other place (which is on the tourist route) and which only gets a few donations a day. The staff were excellent, coke, a massive pack of biscuits and a t-shirt large enough to fit Rab C Nesbitt were included and it was quick, sterile and painless.

Our last evening, a group of us went to a street stall for food and bought noodles. Marissa agreed to buy a little boy a plate of fried rice and Sandra was asked by a woman with a baby for food and bought her a plate too. Soon we were surrounded with children eating the rice and helping themselves to Sandra and Marissa's food (they were on the end by the road) while the rest of us looked on with amusement.

After the meal, we played with the children - noughts and crosses in the dirt, thumb wars, spinning them around and giving them piggybacks. Children who normally (and some still did) have babies on their hips in slings begging for money and baby milk with groaning voices and sad faces. They were giggling, tickling us, hugging us and playing as children should.

We went for some drinks, free popcorn and peanuts and chatted for a few hours.

But it was another early start today. I had a pick-up at 6am. Well the pick-up for the boat to Battambang was supposed to come at 6am but it was more like 6.45am. By this time I was pretty worried as the boat leaves at 7am - a 20 minute ride away. The guesthouse owner was frantically contacting the tour company.

Eventually they turned up with a car as the minibus was too full for me. The road from Siem Reap to the Thai border is closed as it's in such a bad state so everyone travelling to Bangkok was forced to come to Battambang instead. Five passengers squeezed into the car and we made it to the boat.

The trip was stunning. At first, the trip along the Tonle Sap lake was just glass-like water with abundant plantlife making passages across the lake. But soon we came upon floating villages. The first was quite basic - wooden huts floating with fishing boats moored nearby, people fishing and very modest.

But the second was a veritable town. It had what looked like a townhall, a police station, a floating temple and even a floating school (built by Unicef) with children in their immaculate white shirts and blue skirts and shorts.

Apart from these villages dotted here and there, the scenery was fairly dull for the next three or four hours save for the fishing boats, larger boats towing two or three others and house boats. There were some big houseboats but many were just longtail wooden fishing boats with a cabin atop. More had a circular roof constructed of thin bendable wood and palm leaves.

The last couple of hours of the six hour trip was magical. As the lake became a currentless river, we saw houses along the banks surrounded by jungle - palm trees and wooden huts, brwon children splashing off boats into the waters, people bathing, youngsters fishing, women covered with scarves from the sun in fishing boats, surly teenagers annoyed at their boat being rocked by our larger ones.

Surprised glances and delighted waves from people at seeing westerners or a friend on the boat. Many smiles. Many waving hands. Life looked so simple, so peaceful though I suspect the reality is far different. The riverside was just beautiful and I can't highly recommend the trip enough.

So now I am in Battambang. Have found what seems to be a nice guesthouse. Had a wander around the market today. Few people spoke English so I had to test out my Khmer (very bad) but it was fun to be somewhere again where there is a challenge like that.

Still quite a few beggars and moto drivers but nothing like Siem Reap. No children from what I have seen so far. It is a tranquil riverside town it seems (though as I say this a child is shouting outside the cafe) with a post-colonial air.

Tomorrow I will take a look around the countryside on a moto with a nice guy who speaks good English and will tell me about the Khmer Rouge in this region of Cambodia.

Phnom Penh to Siem Reap

2006-10-22T23:20:00.000+10:00

Phnom Pehn, the capital of Cambodia, grew on me during the short time I was there.

At first I found the poverty, disabled people, children begging and constant appeals by tuk tuk drivers and moto taxis very frustrating, tiring, confusing.

The city is at odds with the French colonial buildings and corrugated iron slums, 4x4s with groomed people sporting the latest cell phones and dirty-clothed, bare-footed mothers with snotty babies slung on their hips.

On Thursday morning I went to Wat Phnom, a temple on the only hill in the city. It was rather disappointing in its similarity to the hundreds of other temples I had visted in Thailand, it's less than stunning views, the foreigner entry fee of $1.

I got chatting to Jim, an American, and his Thai girlfriend Kate. They were looking for monkeys in the grounds and had brought fruit for them to eat. We talked for ages and then decided to hunt out the furry beasts.

There were dozens of them playing at the bottom of the hill - swinging from trees, sitting in the grass, nicking things from the shrines.

We fed them the fruit and they cheekily tried to snatch it out of our hands. There was a big daddy and three tiny baby monkeys. They were friendly and tame and we spent ages taking photos and videos and feeding them bananas.

Later, I ignored the tuk tuks and wandered the streets for a while - a much calmer alternative. The drivers in Cambodia are far crazier than in Thailand and crossing roads is quite a trial. I shopped for a while at a silk shop with handicrafts made by disabled people in Cambodia (there are many due to Khmer Rouge torture and landmines) and then wandered the riverfront for a while.

In the late afternoon I visited the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda which were impressive and beautiful in the early evening light.

Tired, I returned to the guesthouse feeling Phnom Pehn had a better atmosphere than I had felt at first. In the restaurant, one of the tuk tuk drivers talked me into visiting the orphanage that afternoon.

I wanted to take the children something so I asked him to stop off so I could buy them some rice. They get through 70kg a day and rice is expensive at this time of year.

I ended up buying 25kg which cost a whopping $15 - it seemed a lot for rice to me and I wondered if the tuk tuk driver was in cohorts with the lady at the market.

Nevertheless we popped next door to the orphanage. The marketplace is down a dirt alleyway - a dark and smelly place of tin huts and wooden slums. The orphanage (Cambodian Light Children's Association - http://www.cambokids.org/) is quite honestly horrible. Like a cowshed. It leaks on the children packed into the bedrooms. The classrooms are dark holes with tiny electric bulbs.

Dinner is a meagre portion of rice and a watery vegetable soup because they cannot afford meat often.

Backpackers and travellers come here often and the charity is geared up for these visits. The director, Pat Noun, showed me around as night fell - children holding my hands and asking my name or counting for me as we toured the small area.

They were adorable, friendly and full of life. I felt awful presenting them with only half a sack of rice. I felt worse when the director asked me to donate exercise books to the school - a donation of $80 was required for that! I had to explain I didn't have that kind of money on me but it was useless to tell him I could not afford that.

To him, I am travelling and am western. I am froma rich country and I have many material things. They have nothing.

I left feeling sorrowful for the children but a little surprised by the directors straight-forward approach. I have no doubt about his passion for the cause but was a little concerned, in a country full of corruption, that the money was being filtered through.

Now, I have discovered that they have been vetted by the UK's Charities Aid Foundation which gives me hope that these orphans are being cared for in the best way under the difficult circumstances.

After such a draining encounter I was ready for bed. But I wanted to tell other people about the orphanage and encourage them to visit the children. I got chatting to John and Jenny, an Irish couple, and their friend Connor (also Irish).

After a beer, we decided to join a girl Connor had met in Vietnam at a party at the lakeside - the main travellers ghetto. So Andrea (Brazilian), Connor, Jenny, John and I hopped in a tuk tuk and headed for a guesthouse with a bar over the lake.

We sat ontop of a two storey boat which had been permanently moored to the landing stae and chatted with Marissa, an Argentinian girl Andrea knew, Chicho - an Argentinian who looked and sounded JUST like Chico, an English girl Rebecca, an American John... many many people.

It is much easier to meet people here and in Vietnam it seems than in Thailand. There, people are on holiday as part of a couple or a group more often than being a backpacker.

Here, most people are travelling alone but you are rarely alone here.

After Thursday night out, I had planned to meet Andrea in Siam Reap on Friday morning and met Marissa on the bus there. In Siam Reap, I caught up with Jenny and John and numerous other people we had seen on our bus or in Phnom Penh or elsewhere.

The trip to Siam Reap was long and included a breakdown in the middle of nowhere for an hour or more.

Marissa and I ended up at Queen House Villa guesthouse and, after settling in, wandered town for a while to get the atmosphere and find a tuk tuk to take us around the temples of Ankor.

We saw many of the people we had been with in Phnom Penh and on the bus, had Amok - the national dish of Cambodia - for dinner, and met Mr Won who became our driver.

The last two days have been spent exploring some of the lesser temples around Ankor - such as Ta Phrom (where Tomb Raider was filmed) and Bantay Srei, and these have been amazing.

We haven't managed sunrise yet but saw sunset last night and this evening, the sky was a hazy burnt orange colour over the fields and huts of rural Siam Reap as we returned from Ankor.

Last night, we met up with our friends and partied at Temple Bar and Ankor What? bars. It is quite a pleasant, although very touristy town. Stepping onto the street - any street - means about five tuk tuk drivers will descend on you for business along with a child carrying a baby, a one-legged man with his cap out a-begging and a small boy selling postcards.

It isn't easy to deal with, especially when tired, but that is life here. Before we went out for a few drinks, we went to Beatocello concert - a former Swiss cellist-turned doctor who has worked in Cambodia for more than 14 years. He worked in Phnom Penh before the Khmer Rouge took power and returned at the request of the king after their fall.

He has now set up a childrens hospital here (there are three affiliated in Phnom Penh) and plays a free concert every Saturday to ask for donations and blood donations and to explain his work. Here, there is a dengue fever epidemic, HIV, Hepititus and an outrageous TB problem.

This hospital is free to Cambodian children and has modern equipment for the blood transfusions and operations necessary to save lives here. But he is fighting a battle to get decent health care for poor people and relies on private donors, the Swiss, the Thai government and others to run the hospital. He is also fighting for proper drugs to be made available for free here instead of cheap and dangerous ones which have been banned in the west - a sobering tale (www.beat-richner.ch)

Tomorrow, we do the daddy's of Ankor - Ankor Wat, and Ankor Thom (including Bayon) and maybe the landmine museum.

Maybe I will have some profound thoughts for my next blog. All I can think of now is sleep...

From one tragedy...

2006-10-19T00:28:00.000+10:00

So this is Khao Lak. A paradise that has been turned to hell. Luckily, time and effort have healed many of the physical scars upon the land.

Here, there are more than 30km of golden beaches fringed by palms. You can lie for hours on a stretch away from the bungalows and resorts and see no one but the occasional shrimp collectors or Thai children walking past in the surf.

At the Bang Sak, the beach stretches in a giant crescent. There are no tourists here. Only the sound of the waves. In a few weeks time, as the monsoon finishes shedding the last of its downpours, the sea will become glass-like and silent.

During th heaviest parts of the monsoon, the waves are Hawaiian in their magnitude. A stirring reminder of the tsunami on December 24, 2004.

Here, the was the greatest tragedy for Thailand. Thousands died. Maybe 8,000 along this coastline known as Khao Lak. 60% were foreigners and the rest were mainly those Thai's working in the resorts or as fishermen or the children playing on the beach.

As a result, there are fewer English speakers here. Fewer children. But also many orphans. There are people still afraid of the sea. People unable to make a living.

The social problems are too complex to explain here. But the story of the Moken people illustrates just how tough life can be even while the resorts continue to be rebuilt in the hope foreigners will come back to this palm-fringed destination.

The Moken people are sea gypsies but this community have been living on land in Khao Lak for more than 100 years.

The tsunami killed 40 villagers from the 50 families living there. It destryed their simple bamboo huts and killed their animals. They were simple people - living off the fish the men caught, their pigs and chickens and sharing the leftovers. They were a self-sustaining community.

Now many men are too afraid to fish, or are dead, or were too late putting thier name down for a replacement boat. Even if they do fish, the migratory patterns of the fish have changed and there are fewer to be caught. Of those that are, they are sold and no longer shared. But with fewer tourists, the restaurants do not pay as well as before.

A well-meaning NGO rebuilt homes for the community - plus an extra 20 families who muscled in and decided they wanted new homes. They are not Mokens or even from the area.

The NGO built large, solid homes on stilts which are close together. The people love their sturdiness. But because they are so close, the people can no longer keep animals there - it would smell too bad.

So they have lost their means of survival. On top of this, they cannot get jobs in resorts (no tourists -little English spoken) or in construction (little pay - too many Burmese taking jobs).

And in addition, the tsunami brought their land to the attention of the provincial government who decided it was prime real estate. They said the Moken could live on the land - but must pay rent and move after five years.

Rean Kratalay, a 67-year-old tsunami widow, said she has to pay 300baht rent a month and 400baht in electricity a month depsite using very little. For people with no source of money and who have to feed themselves too - it is impossible.

I visited this village and several others which have been rebuilt or are in the process. I saw the handiwork of women who sew and weave items for tourists to make ends meet, and Thaikea - a furniture project - where villagers craft stunning items from wood of fishing boats broken in the tragedy.

But it is still a beautiful place and the people are desperate for tourists to come back. Taxi drivers, shop keepers, restaurant owners, guesthouses and hotels, laundry women and street vendors all depend on that income.

And why wouldn't you go? There are miles of golden sands. Stunning hotels and cheap beaches. And world-class diving just 60km away in the Similan Islands...

Sadly it was time to say goodbye to the people of Khao Lak (who have been the most artless and wonderfully friendly I have met so far) and to the volunteers at Tsunami Volunteer Centre who took me under their wing and invited me to their Monday party.

I boarded a bus for Bangkok for a 13-hour ride and made it to the capital at 5.30am (an hour late). I had a quick whizz across town to the new airport and boarded an hour-long flight to Phnom Pehn - the capital of Cambodia.

Just hours later, I arrived at Okay guesthouse and found myself a nice room, a cup of coffee with condensed milk (soooo good) and then was whizzed to the S-21 (tuol Sleng) musuem by moto-taxi.

I was driven by the friendly Peter - who now thinks I need him whenever I step out of the door.

The museum is the former prison of the Khmer Rouge. It is a former school that was converted into cells and torture chambers. Pictures line the wall of the victims and perpertrators. Stories are told about this all-too-recent history.

It was just two years before I was born that the regime was halted. It was many years before they found peace here.

The scenes were horrifying. The torture instruments, cruelty, senseless waste... It is thought up to three million Cambodians were killed in the four years Khmer Rouge were in power. Just four years and many were starved and overworked to death. More were killed for their education.

At the museum I met a Canadian couple and Australian guy and we took a tuk tuk to the Killing Fields.

15km out of Phnom Pehn - on a very bumpy dirt track - this is the place the victims of S-21 were taken to die. There are 129 mass graves here - 43 have not yet been opened.

The 17,000 inmates of S-21 were killed here - most blugeoned to death to save on expensive bullets. There is a memorial of 17 storeys of stacked skulls.

A tree against which babies were swung. Numerous holes where bodies had been discovered - eyes blindfolded, arms tied.

It is a place of such horror - almost too much to take in - surrounded by peaceful fields and waterways. The setting makes it all the more poignant.

Our guide seemed almost angry at us as we walked around. He had escaped from Phnom Pehn in the early years of the regime - his father was not so lucky.

He worked in a camp until in 1980, he came to keep the site of the killing fields secure. He says the stench was unbearable. He said ghosts haunted the place.

We left with a feeling of disbelief and also unease that we were intruding on the death place of Cambodians.

On the bumpy road back, we stopped at a shop - shack you would probably think of it - for a real street lunch of some unidentifiable meat in some unidentifiable sauce with rice. Nice though.

Then it was on to the overpriced and overly dull National Musuem. If I have learned one thing from this - it is that I don't like these kind of rigid places. I like to see statues at temples or in the place they were intended. I don't like to see them behind glass. Particuarly when the signs aren't the best andt hey look like many other hundreds of statues I have seen in the last four months.

We walked down to the riverside and bought a beer from a street vendor and sat on the banks and talked for a while. Steve bought a cooked snake and we all tasted some (too many bones, skin too chewy) and then we wandered to find some real food.

We found it in the market place - more unidentifiable meat and sauce and a beer - all for less than 50p.

Tomorrow there are more sights to see and places to wander. It is very different to Thailand - far poorer for a start.

But I like to see the cyclos - the bicycles with a chair infront, hear the chatter of the moto and tuk tuk drivers, the friendly advice of people, to see the large wheeled bicycles ridden by elegant men, and wander past the colonial French-style buildings.

Yet every face hides a story. Everyone over a certain age has a black reminder of Khmer Rouge. Even the naked children playing at the side of the street have grown up in a country tainted by that period.

There are too many beggars missing limbs and asking for food. Too many people grateful for your offcast food. Too many children wandering selling items or holding outstretched palms... Thailand was easy compared to this. But Cambodia may turn out to be more rewarding.

Lost in Phi Phi

2006-10-15T22:40:00.000+10:00

Ok so I didn't stick to my plans and leave Phi Phi when I intended. I tried. The weather conspired against me.

Or maybe it was my heart.

I think I may be in love.

With the weather grey and dull and constantly threatening to rain, I decided I was better off on Phi Phi. No matter that it was raining there - I had friends to meet and CSI dvds to watch, nights out to indulge in. And more diving.

I completed my advanced course for PADI - four further dives to test my navigation, buoyancy, fish identification and planning multi-level dive skills. It was a funny two days which saw Kim, my instructor, and I giggling constantly underwater as he tried to protect me from 'animal porn' (slugs mating), scratched his head at my attempts to swim backwards that saw me eating sand, and as we fought over who was barging into whom as the current swirled us around.

The island is so beautiful, so naturally blessed with stunning beaches, turquoise seas and imposing cliffs. The people, both Thai and western, are welcoming and friendly. They have been through so much and come out smiling.

It genuinely terrifies and appalls me to think and to see the devastation wrought on the tiny sandbar which separates the two main beaches and where all the main resorts are, or were. Everything about who lived and who survived on Boxing Day 2004 was down to chance.

I found myself thinking constantly, 'That could have been me. It could have been any number of my friends.'

The love affair did not end well. I eventually had to wrench myself away on grey and rainy Friday. But my last night out, while mostly great fun with the crowd of people I had come to know and love, turned sour.

I'd had a nagging sense of guilt and sadness which dogged my time on the island. So many of the westerners who loved here had been on the island when the wave came or rushed to help with the clear-up and who all came back.

Everytime I mentioned I was a journalist or said I was planning to write an article, there was a wary look in their eyes - even those who hadn't been here at the time.

In the months after the wave there was such heartache. Such appalling scenes. Such effort to rebuild the lives and livelihoods that had been broken. I suppose it was dragging up a past which many wanted to let lie, although many realised I was writing about Phi Phi's future and not its past.

On my last night talking to Chris, a diver who had been here pre-tsunami, come back to clear-up in its wake and again to live and work here, his thoughts on my journalist efforts were clear. I felt kicked in the stomach. Like a sick intruder. Like all my fears about what I was doing were realised.

He was drunk but his sentiment was nevertheless undeniable and deadly in its intent. As soon as he heard my profession, he cut me dead. Spoke some harsh words. Refused to speak to me.

Incensed, I tackled him. I told him he hadn't given me a chance to say what I was writing. I told him about going to Sri Lanka. He listened.

He told me how journalists had arrived during the clean-up and drank until all hours, trying to extend their stay in 'paradise'. And after several weeks being looked after, they turned around and wrote about how westerners were taking liberties with the Thai people, turned against the rescue workers. He told me I was looking for a break from people's misery.

I have enormous respect for the people involved in the immediate aftermath - and those floods of backpackers who stayed on Phi Phi to lend a hand wiring, painting, cleaning, builing homes for people. I cannot imagine the horrors of thousands of bloated bodies across the beaches, the smell, the sense of loss and fear and guilt...

But I felt so guilty then. I felt like and intruder. I felt guilty for not having been here and helping. I felt I had no right to be asking people to remember those days.

I had a moment of pure self-doubt which lasted through my final hours on Phi Phi. Until Friday morning when I looked out at my surroundings of constuction work while eating breakfast with my friend Far. I was in a restaurant that had been rebuilt three times since the tsunami (due to repeated land sales). The owner's business which she had built from nothing over a decade to a successful enterprise was back to its original small size.

She had not given up. She had not accepted her lot or bowed out after her successful restaurant and rooms had been decimalised by the wave. She had fought many battles in the ensuing period and her worries are not yet over. Her lease on the current land is up in a year and she may have to move and rebuild yet again.

Yet she is cheerful and optimistic and grateful. And there I was sitting in her restaurant bemoaning that I did not know what direction my life was going in.

The strength of the people on Phi Phi was what impressed me. And the community spirit of westerners and Thai's together - as if they were facing the natural world together. Picking themselves up collectively and supporting each other 100% to ensure they all survived.

But I still had to leave. Ten days on Koh Tao and nine on Phi Phi was rather cutting into Cambodia and other travelling options.

So on Friday, I set sail for Krabi and travelled to Phang-nga. On Saturday, I did a tour of the national park - made famous in James Bond's Man with the Golden Gun. It was a stunning tour on a long tail boat with an Australian brother and sister I met and a German couple.

The landscape was breathtaking. The sea was like glass - the mountain ranges reflected along with the brilliant sunshine. Odd islands jutted up through the waters covered in trees. Secret caves led to enchanted caverns. Monkeys played in mangroves and sail boats cut across the amazing seascape.

Until James Bond island - crammed with package tours from Phuket. And a canoeing stop - where they paddle the unfortunates who had signed up around a large rock and through a small cave for a vast sum (I read my book).

Sarah, Dan and I stayed in a Muslim fishing village that night which is constructed on stilts next to one of the craggy rocks. We wandered the village (fairly touristy) before eating dinner next to the water and watching the sun sink behind the moutains - the colours reflected in the sea.

Today, we travelled back to Phang-nga and then parted. I came by bus to Khao Lak - the area worst hit by the tsunami.

It was nearly two years ago but, like many places in Sri Lanka, the land next to the ocean was flat. So the waters swelled further inland. Half the death toll in Thailand occurred here. There is around 35km of beach here - not all was affected. But I was driven around by one of the resort owners today.

He pointed out ruined pavilions which stood 4km from any high ground - the former reception of a four star hotel, or the club house of a bungalow resort. Here was the hotel where residents could not escape because of the high wall and there three boats which had been washed 1km inland.

Villagers have moved inland but some resorts have rebuilt next to the ocean. Some, foolishly you could argue, more than 4km from the evacuation point - in other words high ground.

It is hard to take in everything here but tomorrow I aim to meet volunteers who are still based here and find out a little bit more.

Diving diva

2006-10-10T19:43:00.000+10:00

Have spent nearly a week on Koh Phi Phi and I'm not yet eager to leave. Once again I am running out of time here...

Michelle, Duncan and I did two days of diving when we first got here - the first stunningly beautiful near Koh Phi Phi Ley (The Beach location) and the second day on a ferry wreck between here and Phuket.

That was great and we saw a large turtle there but couldn't do the other dives nearby because the waves were too choppy and current too strong.

I went out diving yesterday again - a beautiful day - the kind you imagine in Thailand with turquoise flat seas and brilliant sunshine. The diving was truly amazing. So much better than Koh Tao for its visibility, fish life, colour and brilliance. We saw three leopard sharks, three black tip sharks, moray eels and numerous other weird and wonderful creatures.

Have really found my feet here. The community is re-establishing itself and slowly rebuilding. It won't be up to full accommodation capacity here for another high season (Nov-Mar) and there is a lot of construction work taking place. People are hopeful though. Like Sri Lanka, everyone has a story about Boxing Day 2004.

Through the dive team at Moskito, I have met a lot of the divemasters and instructors on the island and am so tempted to take diving to pro level, live out here, make a bit of money on the side doing web work, and get paid to take people diving. It would cost around 600 pounds to train up and then living costs but you can make money working in the dive shops in the mean time.

I have made a wide circle of friends which means that wandering around town you bump into people, stop for chats or drinks and end up dancing on the beach, occasionally until the sun edges over the rocky outcrops of the island.

Meanwhile, the rain has come and weather forecasts predict it will continue for several days. I have been watching CSI in the classroom at Moskito and meeting people for coffee or on the beach.

However, I do plan to leave tomorrow (Wednesday). I was aiming for the beaches of Railay and then Phang-nga where The Man with the Golden Gun was filmed. But the weather makes me tempted to stay where there are friends and diving. I could stay and do my advanced course here and then head to Cambodia for the last few weeks or days...

Or go to Khao Lak and check out the rebuilding efforts since the tsunami. The choices are there but, as ever, I remain indecisive...

Planes, Seatrans and automobiles

2006-10-04T22:21:00.000+10:00

Had a busy few days travelling from Koh Tao on the east coast over to the Andaman coast.

Monday was spent soaking up the beach atmosphere with the lovely people I have met on Koh Tao and trying to save a little bit of money to make up for flying by not diving.

However the whole crew were going out in the afternoon and so I decided to do one of the two dives at Hin Wong Pinnacle.

It really ended my diving there on a high. The visibility was so amazing - the shoals of fish, the many angel fish we spotted as well as all kinds of parrot fish, damsel fish, banner fish, squirrel fish, foil fish, butterfly fish and a giant (and I mean giant) grouper.

ANGEL FISH

It was like being in a different place the water was so clear and the colours so vivid.

Michelle and I then sat the next dive out and had a nap on the boat.

That evening we went for a slap-up meal at El Gringo's for fantastic fahitas and a few glasses of wine before retiring to the beachside Lotus bar for farewell drinks.

The next morning was an early start to get us to the pier, take a Seatran Ferry to Koh Samui and then a taxi to Hat Chaweng, the main beach.

We had a few hours to kill and headed to this main strip. It is busy, noisy and packed with sunburned farangs. At first I was genuinely horrified by the loud music blaring from each beachside bar, the untidy sprawl of the main strip behind the beach, the cost of food, the rude attitude of the staff in restaurants, the dozens of sun loungers, offers for cheap alcohol... it seemed a world apart from Koh Tao.

Gradually, as Michelle and I hit the shops hard, we could see the attractions in the dirt cheap imitation clothes and pretty jewellery. If I had been leaving for home anytime soon, I could have bought a serious amount.

Chaweng beach (above) is a pretty stretch of sand but marred by the masses of people even off season, the jet skis and the ugly beachside buildings. The main strip is dirty and the large bars look fun for a good night out but this is where holidayers come. Travellers tend to stay away I suppose.

Samui airport is in the process of a revamp but is currently a couple of bamboo huts next to a large strip of tarmac. Fresh coconuts can be bought next to your airline tickets. There is a great complimentary food and drink section we discovered two minutes before our flight, but this is amply paid for by the 300B airport departure tax. Still, the flowerbeds next to the runway and gardens to sit and wait for your flight make a nice change from Heathrow.

The flight was just 40 minutes to Phuket but the actual trauma of getting in a minibus and to Patong beach was far longer. Patong is the Pattaya of Phuket - the noisy, seedy, beachside town with hordes of middle-aged farang men being handed flyers for ping-pong shows or Thai bozing matches.

I was glad to get the chance to see it in its hideousness, as I was to see Chaweng's certain 'charms', but it was a bit of a trial for three weary travellers. We found a hotel which put an extra mattress on the floor for us (which muggins got) and headed to find a cheap street stall which we did after some searching.

Patong is all bright lights, fake goods and rip-off merchants attempting to sell fake watches for the same price as genuine articles. We had an amusing time haggling for a few odds and ends we needed to replace such as torches but opted for an early night rather than a girlie show.

This morning (it seems so long ago), we took a minibus to the boat and sat up on deck to watch the stunning tiny islands dotted along the route as we sailed to Koh Phi Phi.

Ten minutes after we left port it chucked down so we retired below decks until Phi Phi where the sun came out when we came off the boat.

After lunch, we headed for Mosquito diving where we could find cheap rooms and were hoping to do a live-aboard where we would stay onboard a boat for two nights and spend two days diving. Unfortunately they were not running that tour.

So we are diving locally at two sites tomorrow and are hoping for clear seas and skies. The waters are supposed to hold some amazing sights here.

I have found myself stunned to be here and to imagine things before and immediately after the tsunami.

Duncan was here several months before and has said there is much less development here now. The main part of the island is centered around a narrow strip of land between two rugged outcrops and this is where the destruction occurred as the wave swept across it, destroying everything in its path. There are few beachside bamboo huts now and only a few concrete villas.

Most seem to be further inland and upland slightly.

There are patches of barren or grassy land which were once hotels, restaurants, bars, homes... Much has clearly been rebuilt in a tidier way. Other places have been patched up. The dive shop where we are staying had water to the ceiling of the ground floor and photographs show the destruction the wall of water caused there. It is several hundred metres from the beach.

The people still smile here and the atmosphere is friendly - it seems nicer than Chaweng on Samui where I felt I was not in Thailand. Landing in Phuket province and driving past rickety second-world buses, huts and small shops selling fruit and noodles, ornate temples and everyday houses felt like coming home.

Here, of course, it is different. But the scenery is just so stunning. The water a brilliant greeny-blue hue, the dramatic rocky outcrops rising from the sea and surrounding the bays... It is still a travelling ghetto...but it is a beautiful one.

Changes afoot

2006-10-01T20:49:00.000+10:00

I survived my encounter with the sharks, you'll be happy to hear.

On Friday morning, I went out with the Advanced divers to Chumpon Pinnacle. The wind was whipping up the waves and there was a very strong current. Visibility, which has been low in recent days, had really declined.

Sairee Beach
We played a bit on the sandy bottom at 30m deep and cracked open an egg - the yolk stayed intact and we bounced it between each other like a ball. At this point a reef shark swam up less than 8m away to see what we were up to but didn't stay for long.

We swam a bit more, through a fish pool where apparently there was a large shark lurking but I must have missed it! The visibility was pretty awful and we were low on air because we had all been fighting the current so hard.

The next dive we did at a site called twins. Again, visibility was very bad and we didn't see much during the dive - however we did see Nemo! and a few of his relatives.

We logged our dives and then I'm pretty sure I went sunbathing.

In the last few days I've got chatting to quite a lot of the fun divers and have met a good bunch of people.

We ate that night in the cheapest place in town - real Thai food at Thai prices as opposed to the ridiculous amounts they charge in most restaurants, and then hung out chilling, drinking and smoking on Ben's bungalow balcony.

With such a chilled atmosphere and the prospect of rushing up to Bangkok the following day and rushing (well trying to - it's a hellish trip) to Cambodia, I decided to try and put my flight to Australia back a couple of weeks.

After most of Saturday spent in indecision - it cost 75 pounds to change - about the amount which was stolen from my room the other day - and unable to contact Emirates, I managed to contact the London office who changed it there and then.

So instead of flying to Sydney on October 12, it will be October 30.

This gives me a month to play with. So I celebrated with a night dive and a night out.

The dive was quite scary as it was pitch black underwater. We had torches though and there were just three of us and the dive master. WE had to cancel Barracuda hunting ground destination of White Rock because it was just too choppy and headed for the sheltered Japanese Gardens.

We say two blue-spotted stingrays, many shrimps with their eyes glowing pink, and fish such as squirrel fish. It was very relaxing actually to be down there at night and you had time to concentrate on the colours and corals.

Later a large group of us headed to Chopper bar for a few drinks and then to Lotus bar - a beachside place with mats and candles on the sand - dancing on the beach until the wee hours of the morning.

Today, Sunday, has been a day of catching up on sleep, reading, sunbathing and eating. Michelle, Duncan and I have just booked to leave Koh Tao on Tuesday by flying to Phuket (a real luxury!) and will head straight for Phi Phi for some more sunbathing, relaxing and supposedly the best diving in Thailand...

Scuba-ing Koh Tao

2006-09-28T17:44:00.000+10:00

Life has been speeding along in the past few days. Becky and I left Koh Phangan on Saturday, making it to to the port at Thongsala - a very bumpy ride inland - and then by boat to Koh Tao.

Luckily we already had in our minds a scuba resort to stay at as there are over 40 dive shops on this tiny island - and most of them bombard you at the port.

We were whisked up the shore to Sairee village and to Big Blue resort where we signed up to scuba courses. Becky wanted to do the Open Water course (four dives and certifies you to dive to 18m) and then the Advanced course, while I was unsure if scuba really was me.

So I signed up for a trial with the option of extending to the full Open Water and we were introduced to our instructor, Scobby - an Australian with bags of enthusiasm.

We settled into our room - a 200B a night room with rather thin walls but it did the trick and wandered around Sairee village and beach. The dive shop is right on the beach and the restaurant, like many bars and cafes here, are along the shoreline. The beach is long and quite narrow but palm-fringed and very pretty.

The days here have been quite cloudy and windy but this has only affected where the boat will take us diving. Luckily we have had more to occupy us than sunbathing - namely diving and the theory and homework that goes with it.

Luckily I loved diving. We went out to a shallow but stunning dive site called Japanese Gardens on the first day to learn the skills and as we picked the up quickly, sneaked in our first dive.

In subsequent days we have been running around the island on the boat looking for calmer waters and good visibility where we can dive to 12m, 15m or down to 18m.

Some of the coral has been amazing and we have seen fantastic giant clams, angel fish, trigger fish and all kinds of marine life. It has been truly spectacular to be in this submerged and underwater world seeing such vivid colours and floating along weightlessly.

Yesterday (Wednesday) was our last day of the course and we were to dive to a maximum of 18 metres. You can dive to certain depths depending on how much air you have in your tank, the interval between dives, how long you stay down and so on for safety reasons. On our first dive we actually went to 24m ( we are only licensed to go to 18m) and on the second to about 21m for half an hour because we found a hawsbill turtle. Officially that breaks the rules of safety by the SSI tables but our instructor has a more accurate computer which ensured it was safe - if a little too advanced for us!

But Becky and I had been hoping to see a turtle all week and earlier Matt, who had been diving with us on previous occasions, had seen a small turtle. So we were amazed and delighted to descend and see this huge, powerful hawksbill which was about 1m diameter.

Watching him, we kicked up a bit of silt and scared him off but we managed to give chase and find him again, watching him munch away and got really close to him. Fantastic creature.

I had a really lovely evening chilling on the beach. There are a few bars with mats on the sand and candles and lanterns in the trees and sand. I met up with some of the divers and chatted the night away.

Unfortunately, this led to another rift with Becky who claims to have been concerned about my whereabouts after she went back to the room at 8pm. I have never been shouted at so rudely, and I felt enough was enough.

Today was my rest day, so I paid up at Big Blue resort and moved to a bungalow at Siam Scuba - more expensive but much nicer and with my own balcony, big bed and clean bathroom. It was a good deal.

So I spent today chilling on the beach, reading, catching up with other divers at Big Blue and having fun.

Just eaten very greasy Thai meal and feel a little bloated and sick but will have a cocktail now to sort that and then head to bed. Tomorrow I have to meet the dive team (the advanced course divers) at 6.45am to head out to Chumpon Pinnacle. I decided I wanted to do a deep dive to 30m which is part of the advanced course.

This is because there are sharks at Chumpon and if you go down that far they are actually swimming around you instead of below. Also, in Australia some of the best sites are at 30m depth and its better and cheaper to dive here.

So then, on to Cambodia. Not sure when leaving here for definate but maybe Saturday, maybe Sunday. I am loathe to leave this beach idyll where there is little to do but lie in the sun, read, drink, eat and dive.