Home sweet home

It's the end of an era.

I am sitting in my mum’s lounge with a cup of tea and CNN blaring in the background. Tui keep flittering past the window to gorge themselves on the flax flowers out the front, the birds are going berserk, shrieking as the sun bursts through the breaks in the clouds, sweeping by in the high Wellington wind. This is home.

Our days have been filled with reunions and surprises, as we decided early on to keep our return secret so we could scare the crap out of our loved ones. Nice eh!!

We've managed to do so with Dad and Wendy, who we scouted straight away on the way through town from the airport - a testament to the village like size of Wellington; then arrived home to a dinner party at Mums where I freaked my brother Brett and my lovely Grandma; and since then have continued to spring our friends daily. It's been fantastic and there are still a few people to get around but I hold out little hope for the gossip wheel to keep our return secret for much longer.

So it's over, no more UNESCO World Heritage Sites, world wonders, culture shocks, hostels, backpacks or lengthy transits. This had become our lifestyle and our job over the last eight months, as it was 24-7, planning, prepping, doing and enjoying. Undoubtedly, it's been the most amazing experience of my life and I will always be thankful to Andy for planning and undertaking it with me.

The best decision I've made was to do it. My life savings are gone and substituted with a rather large visa debt but I am enriched with a huge wealth of experience and knowledge about the 22 countries we visited, about the world, and about myself. Personally it has grown me, in my sense of self, my values, and taught me truthfully my strengths and weaknesses.

It was a whirlwind tour of sorts, despite the length of time we were away, the fact we were always moving, never working a day and having had so much to see in every country. It was hard at times to decide what to see and what to skip as its impossible to do everything, but when torn we would remind ourselves of how amazingly lucky we were to be in these places at all and that we can’t see everything, so if we truly want to see these things we will return one day.

Our mantra was that this trip was like a world tasting platter. Arranged as a taste test of everywhere we have always wanted to go, it would provide us with a better understanding of the realities of these places and would serve as an experience to learn where we enjoy the most, where we didn't enjoy and where we want to return and travel more extensively in the future. This was the perfect type of travel for me as prior to this trip I had not travelled much and had little idea, really, of what I would prefer as I had little to compare it against.

It's hard to know yet the outcome as it is all so fresh and still filtering through, and we are so happy for the beauty and culture of home, but currently what sits in my mind is the Caribbean, Central America, and India. We loved Guatemala which has led to an interest in the entire Central American and Caribbean region, and unfortunately as India was always to be in monsoon season when we were able to go we couldn't visit it on this trip. Regardless it is a place that requires more time than we could have given it. Asia of course is high on our list to return to as it is beautiful, easily accessible from NZ and holds the lovely Rachael Lowe, Andy's sister, in Cambodia one of my favourite countries. And finally Europe is also top of mind as it is so rich, stylish and historical, we love it and will no doubt return there too. So pretty much everywhere is a goer, I should've known, it's rare I don’t try and enjoy a little bit of everything on a platter!

We met some amazing people on the road who will forever be in our memory and hopefully we will see again one day. I must say too, thanks for all the love and support we received from home, it always brought a grin and much gossip to hear from you.

Travel in the 21st century is such bliss, I shudder to think of the same trip fifty or even twenty years ago: no internet; no skype; no short haul flights; and in many areas no roads or access at all; and loads of dodgy overland travel. It would have been a dangerous, long, lonely and hard road. The reality now is that home is an internet cafe away, and if a country is not in conflict it can be travelled. The tourist market is one of the biggest consumer markets in the world and is protected as such. Travel in most regions is quite easy and many of the harder to travel countries have tourist police due to the government’s desire to protect its industry.

In eight months we suffered little more than a cold and the travellers tummy, nothing was stolen and we had little trouble. So I implore you, if you have the desire to travel go and do it, on your own terms, wherever it is you have always wanted to go, pick a goal, do your research and go.

Travelling is an addictive thing that leads to more and more roads and for me brought a strange reality of how huge and varied the world is, and yet how small and the same it is in many ways. Oh and guys, I must finally say, that we did it all in jandals

Peru = Alpacas, altitude and ancient ruins = ace

We loved Peru. It´s another slice of the international pie with a very distinct flavour, coca.

Coca is the plant from which Coca Cola built it´s empire and the cocaine industry also flourishes, but before all this abuse it was and still is an important ingredient in the Andean culture religiously and practically for altitude sickness and pretty much all other ailments you may have right up to childbirth. And now it´s an important part of my daily ritual in the place of my long love, coffee. I´ve been drinking 2-4 cups daily to the joy of my numbed mouth and soothed heart.

The altitude of Peru was fine initially apart from some heart thumping moments walking up the hill to our hillside hostel in Cusco and around Machu Pichu. The coca tea helped too but after the first week of extreme altitude and crap hostel's and the coldest weather we've faced bar topless bus tour in Paris, I´ve finally succumbed to my first cold of the trip. Bums. So here I am sunburned from Machu Pichu with a cold. Will the irony ever cease.

Machu Pichu was mystical, surreal and grand. We missioned up at 5am to make the first bus and arrived at 7am, disappointed to find that there was no 2 hour hike up as we thought but a gate straight in. Our guidebook was rather misleading and my sleepless anxiety of a early morning hike in the altitude was all for nothing. It took me a while to realise this however as when we first came through the gates it was so misty that I couldñ´t see jack apart from some rather large rocks and several alpaca mowing the lawn.

Felix our German comrade since the Galapagos Islands suggested we climb Wayana Pichu first, the peak at the end of the complex, as it´s a great viewing point and only allows 400 people up a day. Great call. We were some of the first 10 people up that morning and were in the best spot possible to see the mist clear.

Surrounded by the huge jagered peaks of the Andes, with mist flying upwards like water flowing against gravity in the growing morning sun, we climbed the steep stairs, with the help of steel rope, fighting off the strain of the altitude that was causing our hearts to thump and breath to leap from our lungs. It´s not a great distance but at that altitude its hard going. The only grace is that we did it at 7am and not at 10am like the second 200 people in the heat of the morning. Oh dear, they were actually moaning as we skipped past on our way back down!

Thankfully, the beauty of the ruins, the exotic lush alpine forest, the sharp crown of mountains, silver shining rivers 1000 meters below, the buzzing hummingbirds and slowly clearing teasing mist forced us to stop every few minutes to take snapshots and just breathe it in on our way up. A good thing so we didn't burst our hearts under the strain.

As we climbed the mist would briefly part and the image of Machu Pichu would flash past us, a second later swallowed up again. The higher we got, the better the angle and clarity became until we were at the top of the hill, sitting on huge grey boulders at the far edge of the ridge, in silence, watching the ruins reveal themselves. It was pure serenity. We sat there for two hours enjoying one of the best views of my life.

A 600 year old, geometric, organic, jewel of mans creation in the natural crown of the Andes, Machu Pichu is mesmerising. After the mist cleared, and the small cloud ribbons fell away from the peaks, the sun burst through the sungate on the opposite side of the mountains and sent a ray of light directly across the valley striking the main complex of the ruins directly. Think Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Arc, the scene with the light ray in the cave marking the spot on the mimi city, but on a huge and real scale. If we had been down there we would have seen the light burst right through the three windows, a sacred temple through which the sun's rays pass illuminating the "Sacred Plaza" beyond. All proving how well the Inca designed the city around the movement of the sun and stars.

It´s an amazing structure built around the astronomy of the region. The site is believed to be selected because of its position relative to sacred landscape features—such as its mountains, which are in alignment with key astronomical events that would have been important to the Incas.


Deservedly a world wonder, we spent the day exploring, and went away grining ear to ear, dehydrated and exhaughsted with about 700 photos up our sleeves (plus video). I´ve managed to get it down to just over 400 keepers but thats as far as I can get it.

Damn world wonders!

The one and only Galapagos Islands

WOW.

I have never experienced anything like the Galapagos Islands in my life. Nowhere else even comes close. Its pristine environments, the variety of such unique species, and their indifference to your presence makes it a surreal, unforgettable and amazing experience which is hard to put into words. But of course for you, I'll try.

My initial expectations were far exceeded which was a hard feat as they were so so high to start with due to my love of the environment and concept of the Galapagos as my environmental Mecca. I was not wrong!!

I saw every animal I'd hoped to see, most of which we were within touching distance of. True to rumour they have little fear of humans so you can get as close as you like as long as you don't touch them, which I did with all bar the sharks and rays, go figure. If you love animals you must visit the Galapagos one day.

We booked the trip last year, paying a whopping amount without question as we both knew it would be a priceless experience that we absolutely had to do. We opted for a 8 day cruise on a small yacht which allowed us to visit both the north and south islands of the volcanic chain. We chose a small yacht which turned out to be the last yacht tour operating on the islands as all the other companies have upgraded to the larger cruise ships to maximise on patrons. These take up to 200 people who are treated to an en suite, gym, restaurant and god knows what else...not our style at all!

Our tour was perfect for us. We had a maximum of 6 other tourists at a time so were treated to the small group experience. This meant we could organise ourselves to be the first each day to the islands beating the other enormous tours so we could experience the islands on own. It also meant that we were with relatively young travellers that could cope with yacht life who were more suited to us than the elderly loads we saw ambling along the shores.

We were also very lucky to have the best tour guide, a Galapagos born environmental guru who know the ecosystems and their components inside out, and respected the environment and its inhabitants. Our biggest fear was being lumped for 8 days with grumpy comrades and a bad tour guide after reading about guides that fish up our dinner from the protected waters and pollute the park under your nose without respect or care for what they are working for. There was none of this with Che Che thankfully.

One of the greatest things about the Galapagos is how close you can get to the animals. When I saw one I'd just walk on over to it and take a closer look. This was with both land and sea animals, walkers and flyers. Unless you are a bumbling, loud, tourist that will surge up to them and make them uncomfortable, which I did only once approaching a playful sea lion for an underwater photo and almost collided with it in my enthusiasm, they'll calmly trust you to approach them without fear.

I first experienced this with the tortoises on our first day when we hopped out of the ute and walked straight up to the old giants in the wild. If you walked too fast they would pull their head in but moments later it would pop back out and continue ripping at the grass or just sunning its wrinkled face completely un-threatened. We'd been whisked straight from the plane to some farmland to see these huge and ancient tortoises in the wild. A great start to our expedition!
I was relieved to see there were heaps of these old giants lumbering around on the grasslands, bathing together in muddy pools, and wandering on the dirt road as we approached causing us to go off road as they calmly sat on the road and watched us swerve!

Above their mammoth size what is most fascinating to me about the Galapagos Tortoises is their age. The oldest recorded one has lived to a whopping 150 years in the wild, which is a a conservative estimate compared to the locals, as our guide believes they live to over 250 years! Our children's children will have the result from the current research. I rolled this around in my head as I perched on my knees, and looked into a tortoises wise old eyes, with it looking right back at me. I was marvelled by its age, and thinking about all the human history that has passed in their lifetime, the arrival of Europeans on their islands, the species that have been erased, the wars that have passed and the US strategic stations that invaded their habitats in the Galapagos; and more personally, the generations of my family that have been born, lived, and died, and me sitting in front of him the meagre 5th, 6th or 7th of my ancestry to live to his one.
Later in the trip we had the privilege to meet the famous 'Lonesome George', the last known individual of the Pinta Island subspecies of Tortoise in existence. A sad result of the destruction the introduced species have caused to the Galapagos ecology. George was found on the island alone when it was too late to begin a breeding programme. There is however a small hope for his kind as they have recently bred him with a very genetically similar subspecies, only resulting in 3 viable eggs. Unlikely to succeed but you never know, well, actually we will know the result and the future of his species in less than three months. Fingers crossed.

Once on the yacht, our days were divided between trips to the various islands, snorkeling, eating and playing cards on the long journeys. Every day was filled with new experiences and learning. Each island had its own welcoming party for us, be it sea turtles, sea lions, rays or sharks in the shallows, a penguin or sea iguana watching us from shore, or a frigate or booby flying over head. Usually several of the above.

We'd adventure into the islands, eyes needlessly peeled for the different species on offer as they tended to be so prolific you barely had to try to see them as they'd be sitting right in front of you! Some islands had endemic land iguanas, huge and colourful, brilliant yellows with large spines, brown eyes and weathered scaled lips, lying flat on their bellies absorbing the heat; sometimes there were flamingos, sitting on one leg, a brilliant pink staring back at us like plastic figurines from the garden ...that blinked; there were huge piles of communal sea iguanas, lying upon each other for warmth, snorting spurts of salt from their noses at us to our disgust and entertainment; we smelt the rich perfumed sap of the various endemic deciduous trees, that was sometimes like frankincense, sometimes a rich woody sandalwood other times like a musky rose; we watched huge albatross chicks wait patiently in their nests for their parents and then the parents run down the aptly named 'albatross runways' leading off high cliffs to take flight; we walked across hardened lava fields that had poured into the sea, now a frozen black river over barren red landscapes, similar to icebergs, we found that once we were surrounded by the black mass the detail came out, it became hugely variable, made up of different oil slick like colours and varieties of frozen organic forms, from the ripples of waves, to piles of thick sailor rope, and bouquets of open faced roses strewn on the ground.

We always had to be careful where we stood at all times in case of the small trusting lava lizards or iguanas bathing on the rocks, or nests being trodden underfoot. We had to be even more careful still with the gorgeous little sea lion pups to not let them touch us as they often tried to do!

These were high on our favourites list, with a call like a high pitched yelping lamb they sat on the beach sun bathing, paddling, playing with each other or shells and sticks as toys, passing time until their mother returned with dinner. Like sirens they'd try to seduce us closer but in their case with their cuteness, chasing our shadows, crying to us, rolling around in the sand and sometimes even sneaking up on us for personal contact but it would be to their detriment not ours if we made contact. They're absolutely harmless, posers for the camera and the epitome of cute but sometimes tragic reminders of how our small actions can influence a life. Sadly this is because if we give in to temptation to allow contact with one of these little creatures they will likely be rejected by their mothers who operate on scent recognition and will subsequently eventually starve. We saw several skinny, lost puppies, desperately tying to get milk from other mothers who aggressively rejected them. It was really upsetting to see.

Little surprise then that when me and a gal from our boat saw other tourists allowing the pups to rub against them onshore we let rip at their tour guide. He had the gaul to say that it is not a proven reaction to which I sharply shot him down with the question of the 'is it worth the risk!!!?' argument. Ridiculous. We also spoke to the tour group about it directly, with a boiling rage under the surface yet outwardly calm demeanor to ensure they understood their potential impacts on these pups that they seemed to have such admiration for. It was not my place but after seeing their actions and hearing the pathetic justification of the tour guide we took it upon ourselves to get the message out.

The snorkeling was the best I have ever experienced due to the abundance and variety of animals and beauty of the unpolluted pristine waters. We often swam both in the morning and afternoon. In one amazing dive I swam with almost everything I had hoped for on the entire trip within 3/4 of an hour. We began by following a reef where we spotted various rays, huge puffer fish with cartoon like eyes, corals, starfish, surgeon fish, and tuna darting at us from the depths. There were trumpet fish lingering in the current like long ropes with pig like snouts and reptile eyes, occasionally a sea iguana would swim past with colours of the rainbow, red, green, yellow on their black coal base. We followed huge schools of fish, each occasionally flicking their sides to us, flashing silver as a knife, when a large sea lion whipped past me within a meter dancing around its prey before my eyes. I saw a Ridleys Sea Turtle, the same species as the one we saw laying her eggs in Guatemala sitting in an underwater crater. She lifted up and I swam beside her alone as she stared back at me. magic. That was until the cold shiver of being alone in shark infested waters rippled through me and I returned to the guide! We continued on and after a while I realised our swim team of 7 was reduced to just me, the water baby and the guide as the waters were very cold so people were dropping off to the trailing dinghy. Sad for them they missed out on the highlight of the days dive, a HUGE stingray about 1.5-2m in diameter, digging on the bottom, already 30 cm or so deep into the sand scuffing up food for it as the many hangers on surrounding him feeding on the food he threw up. We dove down to it and saw up close the yellow tiger eyes watching us as it churned the sand up. A beautiful sight.
The female sea lions were fine to swim with, perfectly safe as long as you don't encroach on their space too much...no matter how much they do on yours! We had to be cautious of the males as they can be aggressive and are very territorial due to their harem lifestyle. A few times they hopped in the water to bark at us, warning us to back off and then herded their ladies back on shore. We naturally respected their wishes and froze in those situations.

There was one sea lion that played with us on shore mimicking the other divers, spinning as we spun, blowing bubbles back to Andy and swimming under your legs given the chance. The sea lions are so charismatic. The puppies of the sea.

One of the best moments we had was late at night when we were all lying up on deck staring at the starry sky competing to see who could spot the most shooting stars when blind Andy spotted some fast moving shapes over the side of the boat. We leapt up to check it out and realised that it was two predators and our boat was surrounded by phosphorescent plankton!! It in turn was attracting a whole feeding chain of animals for our entertainment. The fish were feeding on the plankton, and those that were feeding on the fish there were the real stars. First we saw fast, graceful animals darting about which we worked out to be sea lions. After that we saw slow, long, swaying animals, which we worked out to our excitement to be white tip sharks....but and most exciting of all we saw a strange shape, far larger than the other predators with a broad face.....swaying through the school like the whitetips....a HAMMERHEAD SHARK! Crazy. Such a strangely shaped animal, and to see this lit up in the water like an aquatic Greek constellation in flux in the black sea of glittering phosphorescence was unreal.

There are so many other stories to tell, but as this post is already ridiculously long, I´ll save them for when we are home, wine in hand. xx

...the (October) sun in Cuba...oh oh oh

We finally made it to Cuba!

You may not know this but our entire worldwide expedition was born initially from a simple plan to travel to Cuba. But we found when we looked into the flight costs it was actually so pricy that we would instead just do a round the world trip, and save a little more cash for spending. A little, mmm...

So, clearly the Cuba segment of our trip was very important to us, and to do it justice we planned a full three weeks tiki touring to ensure we got in all the sights. Can you feel where I am going with this? Yes, sad but true, there was a mistake with our booking... (cue the frightful slap of the piano keys)! Sad to say it, our travel agent ruined this plan for us.

For reasons unknown he booked not one, not two but three flights out. Sounds awful handy doesn't it, the airline is our oyster and we can just hold seats willy nilly... well maybe thats how it goes in fairy land where the trees fruit gumdrops and rivers are made of chocolate, but not in the real world! You'd think a professional travel agent would know this! No again! Airlines don't take kindly to that sort of traffic choking carry on so instead of holding all three flights for him, they ended up cancelling two, which were the later ones, leaving only the flight one week after our arrival. Argh to say the least.

This left us with only a week to cover Cuba, the initial days of which we wasted lazily taking in Havana oblivious to our restraints. Once we had the word we only had time to head to Trinidad, the only other side of Cuba we saw before our speedy exit.

(end of rant)

And with a fake smile come grimace I move on...

Havana is a city brimming with life. Its true to all its stereotypes: Cigar toting little old men sit in huge doorways chatting the day away; women hang out the windows watching the street life like a soap opera; the wide spanish streets are adorned with classic and well mantained american cars, a vintage car lovers dream; huge, grand old buildings loom, cracking apart, most boarded up, but thankfully many are now in the process of restoration; all of which are smothered in roasting hot days and matching steamy nights, with live music filling the air day and night.

The first thing that struck me as we drove into Havana were the images of Che and Castro (oh and Cienfuegos...an equally famous revolutionary, lost in the past and suspicious plane crash) throught the city. Not just monuments but billboards and street graffiti. Next it was the roadside crowds of semi clad young locals exposing their best assets like peacocks in full display. The body confidence and sexuality of the people is to say the least, impressive.

It was an 80s time warp fashionwise. An example, women (and occasionally to my horror men too) of all ages and sizes, wore mid drift tops letting it all hang out. Seeing a 60 year old, rather obese woman cranking a fluorescent pink boob tube was not uncommon sight. But even stranger than this circus freak like sight were the seven year old girls who tore up their tees in imitation and tied them into bikinis. Maybe the time warp is yet another result of the trade embargo, its a worry otherwise!

They´re equally confident socially. Locals often approached us in the street to find out about our itinerary, genuinely interested in how long and where we´re going in Cuba. We´d feel guilty sometimes telling them our plans (prior to our flight problem), as we knew that we were going to see more of their country than they´d likely seen. They were extra warm when they found out we were NZers, and glad to hear we were staying in a ´casa particular´ (homestay) rather than a hotel for the real cuban experience and direct cash injection for the locals.

We enjoyed mojitos regularly (and can vouch that they are better in Wellington than Cuba) in street bars with locals on plastic chairs, and in regal colonial hotels with high columned decks and palm trees. Typically the latter when we needed a break from the intensity of the streets.

Like any other foreign city hanging out on the streets is great when you are feeling up to coping with the beggars , hustlers and tricksters. It´s the best way to get chatting with locals, to hear their stories and have a laugh, but can get taxing after a while. On top of the constant approach of beggars and street merchants, the barmen attempt to raise the prices up to 200% when the prices are clearly on a board infront of us, open beers for themselves and add them to our tab, and if you dont ask the price upfront you always recieve a ridiculously overstated bill in return. The saving grace is that local bars are fantastically cheap so is not too upsetting at the end.

We did give in to one of the hundreds of street cigar sellers that approached us, who sold us a few quality cigars for $1us each. He took us to a small local bar, apparantly that Hemmingway frequented, and while Andy smoked his cigar I attempted the salsa with the tout...and soon realised my two left feet. There is no bopping along to music in Cuba, from a young age they all learn to dance the proper steps. So its a 2 step by 3 step affair in which this little NZ girl that rejected jazzballet in her staunch tom boy years has no ability. (Note: on return to Wellington must do a salsa class and remedy second left foot).

Trinidad was a calm relief from Havana. It´s a roasting little UNESCO heritage town with (like many other places we've visited now) beautiful colonial Spanish architecture, painted every shade of the rainbow, cobble stoned streets, horses and carts, live alfresco music by night, beautiful little churches and best of all stunning white sand beaches.

It was a beautiful place to spend our final night in Cuba, watching several live bands and dancers perform a fantastic mix of cuban african styles, while sipping our mojitos. And the perfect place to spend our last morning swimming in the carribean again sipping our mojitos. Got to go back there again and see some more one day, unfortunately at this stage my return list is getting too big!

Guatemala - my little piece of Eden

Well, we have absolutely loved Guatemala and must say are sad to go. The craft markets, quaint cafes, suberb coffee, cracking pastel painted spanish architecture, historic mayan cities, delicious food, but far above all of that its the beautiful and rich environment and people that make it shine.

When the cab pulled up in Antigua on our first night I was awestruck when I looked across the street to see a huge ruined stone church, beautifully engraved with mayan detailing, a spacious courtyard with no roof but grass and epiphytes instead, lit magestically in the gloaming hour. Minutes later we came across a brass band in full kit striding down the cobblestone street blasting jingle bells merrily with locals jiving along beside it. From that moment I knew Guatemala was going to be one of my favourites.

The environment is unlike any I have seen before. One day we are in awe of the towering and perfect cone volcanoes around Lake Aititlan, the next watching spider monkeys show off in their natural environment and following that standing in Tikal, the ancient mayan city imagining the great civilisation that once inhabited these now ruins of grand proportions.

The best moment however for me, a moment I have fantasised about since I was a little girl, was holding a freshly hatched leatherback turtle in my hand moments before releasing it and hunderds of others into the sea. So small and fragile, only about 7cm long, with huge flippers and heads that their small frame can barely support out of the water. We were ridiculously lucky in Monterrico where every night we were there we saw hatchlings by the hundreds frantically flop thier way to the sea with the help of the turtle hatchery based on the beach.

The other huge piece of luck was the arrival of a 30 year old Ridleys Turtle on the beach near our hotel to lay her eggs one night. She layed a mere 98 eggs in half and hour then flip flopped her way back to sea. That was a beautiful and magestic sight, and a sight that gets rarer and rarer every year so meant the world to me.

On top of these natural experiences we have been treated to listening to howler monkeys bark and scream like sand people at the ruins of Tikal, watched and been watched back by pairs of toucan high in the trees, watched coatils 1m away rummage for food, saw floating buzzing hummingbirds feeding on nectar, and spied freshwater otters swimming in the mangroves. These we all saw in their natural habitats which is a rare experience in these times too.

The people of Guatemala are the icing on the cake or should I say the delicious guacamole on the soft taco! We have met some interesting locals who were good representations of the diversity here. Our guide in Tikal was an excellent and knowledgeable man of mayan history, classic and recent years of Guatemalan history. On top of the immense detail he described to us on the ruins, forests and ancient people of Tikal he told us about the recent civil war, which only ended 12 years ago and the huge impact it had on the people.

He described the sad truth of how the hilltribes were murdered, tortured and displaced, and of the horiffic lengths the government troops would go to to decipher whether they were linked to the rebels or not. As many of the tribes lived in isolation and were therefore innocent of the political turmoil going on in their country at the time many were not affiliated with either side, governement or rebel. This was a unacceptable fact for those fighting who then committed horrible torture on the people of these tribes to determine the truth.

This answered a question that had been plagueing me from my first full day here when a young girl with no hands asked me for money. After giving her some coins I turned to our friend who had been working here for a month or so and knew many of the locals stories. The word in tourist cirlces was that that her parents probably mutilated her to make her a more effective beggar... A spine chilling thought that had Andy and I reeling. But in light of our guides tales I think its more likely now that she was a victim of civil war torture in an effort to have her parents confess an affiliation.

It reminds me of the witch test from the dark ages where a woman would be thrown into a river to see if she floats, if she does, shes made of wood, is therefore a witch, and will be killed, and if she doesnt float? There are no right answers with these sorts of horrific acts. This was 12 years ago and like Cambodia the people I see each day, driving the bus, grazing thier cows on the side of the roads, slapping out hundreds of hot tortillias in the toritlliaria, delivering the mail, experienced this, and like cambodia are some of the warmest, freindliest people we have seen on our travels. I like to think they have a tight grip on what truly matters in life.

There is still a class hierachy here based on race, commonly pure guatemalans (mayans) at the bottom, half casts (typically with spanish) in the middle and the remaining spanish from the colonial days at the top. This changes however when you head toward the carribean where we met a local carribean negro who explained that there unfortunately another tier is added which is the ancestral negro community there that sit below the mayan in that part of the country. We looked around and realised he was right. All the staff were mayan, none negro, however contrary to the majority of people on the street were negro. he estimated the population there in livingston to be about 75% negro and 20% or so mayan. Another sad truth. This is interesting because my first thought was that this was due to their arrival as slaves but his ancestral line and that of many of the negro in Livingston are not there as a resut of the slave ships but have been there for thousands of years, like in cuba our next destination.

Despite all these realities the people dont wear it on their shoulders. They are some of the warmest and kindest people we have met on our travels, right up there with Cambodians. It was an absolute treat to travel here and I emplore you all to see it once. My shoes have melted from scorching lava, my ankles are coated in mosquito bites but my heart and soul are filled with the fantastic experience that is Guatemala.

Leaving Europe

Since I last wrote we have driven from Perpignan to Cognac, to Paris, to the French Alps, to Geneva, then Milan, Venice, Montepulciano, Rome, Marseille, Porto, Rio Maior, Lisbon, Toledo and finally to Madrid. When I say we, it was actually Andy driving as I cant drive, and even if I could would not try myself on these roads. I instead was the ever faithful and alert navigator. It was like the Peugeot rally minus the roll cage, sweet bodysuits and helmets.

The toll roads are fantastic three lane super highways, but the drivers are erratic, unpredicatable and as Andy hypothesised one day after a mad driver almost smashed us off the road they may actually get their licences from cereal boxes. The Italians with their wild non indicating ways, overtaking at speeds over 160km/hr were ridiculous, but worse were the Portugese. One day travelling on a local highway we saw three crashes and four dead dogs over a 15km stretch of road. We travelled a whopping total of 8352ks, Andys most ridiculously long drive being a total of 18 hrs. He´s like robocop, eyes on the road, no expression, pure determination. Amazing.

During our roady we had Robyn my aunt, my cousin Zak, Kate Salmond, my enduring primary school friend and her partner Chris, and Mima my bud with us. It´s been rad having so many NZ´s around, partly due to our isolation and lack of english speaking contact, but particularly as they are all such good friends and good company. It actually felt like home sometimes which is comforting after almost 6 months on the road.

Andy was lucky to have the entire Team NZ for his birthday celebrations in Rio Maior, north of Lisbon, Portugal, the closest place he has beyond NZ to a homeland. There we drank the night away in our picturesque windmill home with the fire blazing and the circle of death drinking game ruining us in the best way. Mima was a power house that night managing to polish off an entire bottle of Jagermeister to sober Robyn´s entertainment. Unsurprisingly Mima was also the one that always failed at the animal noise card as she was so foggy brained she could never remember or do the noises... and anyone who knows Mima knows how hilarious she is in that state, let alone making dolphin noises...eeeeiii eeeeeiii...I have videos!

Heres some shots http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=54347&l=e9a2d&id=694561720


We had a few fantastic nights out with Mima, our longest travel buddy, all ending in absolute debauchery. The best, no doubt being the feverish streets of Lisbon. With the help of some of the local skaters as tour guides we downed 50 cent beers, and 1 euro cherry liquor shots both from standing street bars, african buskers gyrating in a way 10 years of yoga will never allow me to do.

Money is not going so well. Its due to mainly shopping, Andys expected and must do football expenses, and our call to come to Europe early for extra Greek islands and Turkey instead of Egypt in the hottest month. Good news is however that today at check in for our flight to Guatemala we were offered 150 euros each (over $300 nzd), and an all expenses 4 star hotel if we fly out the next day as they had over booked. That´s equivalent to over a weeks budget in South America each, so we gladly accepted. Easiest days work Ive ever done!

Fricken ´GUATEMALA´.

Its so weird getting my head around going from Europe to Guatemala. Culture shock here we go again. I wonder how it will feel compared to our last one of Vietnam to Jordan....think it may beat it.

A little catch up is required!

It has been too waaaaay long since my last post! This is mainly because of the surprising lack of internet cafes and to boot the speed of our travels.

Since my last post we have travelled to Morocco where we met up with Jess and Christina, back to Spain, through to France where we met Robyn and Zak, and are now in Italy with crazy ass Mima.

We are still having a brilliant time, absolutely love Europe, and have gone way over budget in doing so! We will claw it back along the line...we hope. The shopping is fantastic, particularly in France and Italy, which has damaged the coffers... not to mention the three football games and merchandise to boot that Andy has coughed up for! Got to do it though. When in Rome...

Andy particularly loves Italy, as you all know, and is currently considering a tattoo to signify his love for his team, AS Roma. Lucky we have Mima, the tattoo guru with us to design it with. We don't however like the look of our local tattooist who has a weird poster of himself with glowing green eyes and bad tattoos out front...may have to wait for NZ.

We picked up our beautiful Peugeot in France and have already put about 3,600 k on the clock, zooming down the toll roads at ridiculous speeds that one would never sanely attempt on NZ roads that put chills up poor Robyn's spine. Any other driver than Andy I would protest but he never takes it beyond the conditions so I rest assured.

Morocco was beautiful, and if you have had a chance to check out our shots you will already know this. It is one of those places you go snap mad as everything is so different to what you know but is also finished with an artisans touch. I also found this in Venice which was the most beautiful city I have seen yet. It becomes impossible to put the lens cap on and just relax as its all so framable!

My favourite place of the towns we visited in Morocco was Chefchaouen. It reminds me of a a typical cobblestone Greek town, but instead of white its painted an equally tranquil sky blue, adorned with rich silk fabrics in reds and oranges and dropped in the foothills of the North African Rif Mountains. After the chaos of Marrakesh and its tourist trade soured markets at 50 degree temperatures it was pure bliss to melt into this cool (er) mountain town and laze the week away.

There our days consisted of lounging in cafes and at our second home, Antonio's, sipping on Moroccan mint tea, reading great books, chatting to other travellers and as always playing cards.

I went to a Turkish Haman, where for about $20 NZ I had a full one hour treatment that completely stripped my tan back to a NZ winter skin! Its composed of the five stages: 1. the sauna, or as they say the seasoning of the body with heat, 2. Vigorous massage, 3. Peeling off the outer layers of the skin, ( and yes, this is as gross as you imagine!) 4. Soaping, and 5. Relaxation.

This was all performed on me by a strong little old lady with the most perfect skin, wearing nothing but her bikini bottoms on the bare ground in front of everyone in the spa. Afterwards the outside temperature of 35 degrees was actually cold to me and I had to sit on an orange juice for about 30 mins to regain my senses! Fantastic.

Would love to do it again right now actually as its exactly what I need with this never ending cold...argh, sniffle, wheeze. xx

Madrid, a city after our hearts

I can honestly say after our first half hour of wandering Madrid's streets we knew it was one of our top places. The people, food, architecture and history, it's overwhelming. The air was electric, fresh, breezy and warm. I found myself stealing huge deep breaths of it as we walked the vibrant streets on arrival, grinning at eachother, shaking the days transit out of our weary travellers bones excited about what's ahead again.

The world famous nightlife lived up to expectations. Not in a glow stick toting club scene way but in a relaxed wandering wide eyed sort of way. Old, dark wood, wine and tapas bars, retail shopping open till 10.30, huge parks and beautiful old buildings lit up showcasing their fineties in detail.

The stone buildings sit shoulder to shoulder on the promenade each unique, with thier huge statues, balconies, domes, all decorated with mixes of stone, gold and brass. Then into the side streets, the streets are thin with towering stone apartments of different shades of pastel pink, yellow, cream, green, all with the typically Spanish black wrought iron balconies many dotted with colourful pot plants hanging greenery and flowers overboard.

The shopping got to Andy on our first day when he hit Zaras, his clothing Mecca. We spent a mere three hours deciding on a top notch new wardrobe, down to the shoes for his return to NZ. It's now on a ship to Mamas house and I am jealous of his splurge! I just couldn't think winter wardrobe let alone try it on. Stifling in this heat. There were some beautiful and affordable pieces that would put some of our boutique designers to shame, however not enough for me to go crazy. Budget is too tight. Womens wear in NZ is far better than the mens thankfully.

Now for the art. In one day I can confidently say we saw works from over half of the worlds master painters accross only three museums. Dali, Goya, Durer, Picasso, Miro, Lichtenstein, Delaney, Riviera, Bosch, Ernst, Manet, Monet, Rothko, Kandinsky, Velazquez, Raphael, Rubens, El Greco, Bruegel, Kirchner, Pollock, Bacon...it goes on! Absolutely mind blowing.

The first museum, the Prado, has over 1,300 paintings on display and apparently a total of 10,000 including the archives. It's considered one of the top collections in the world. Unquestionably it holds the world's finest collection of classical Spanish painting...who were very much inspired by bible tales.

Christ, I have never seen so many images of Christ in my life! Easily 600 paintings of Him in different torturous moments, for all of us remember, tears and blood streaming. They're fantastic and powerful pieces but did wear us down after a while and I'm sorry to say we found ourselves skipping whole sections of the bloody contorted pictures.

Mary held the number two spot, typically portrayed holding a grinning Christ on her knee - with the face of a 30 year old on a pudgy baby frame - I mean come on, didn't a baby with stubble and smile lines give a strong cue who his daddy was!? Guys.

The Prado was built in Goya's day in Madrid and has a huge collection of his works, portraiture and my favourites - the Black Paintings. He painted these Black Paintings directly on the walls of his last manor in the outskirts of Madrid purely out of his own desire unlike his other commissioned works. They are powerful to say the least. It's thought they're themed on the dark side of humanity, with themes of the Spanish war, fates, witchcraft and chaos they conjure up all sorts of feelings, passions and thoughts on reflection. Amazing. Thats the magic I hope for when visiting a gallery, inspiration.

I discovered Bosch at the Prado, a Flemish painter who painted well beyond his time, as masters do. "The Garden of Delights" is a painting showing Adam and Eve on 3 panels, in life, heaven and hell. He painted a unpredictable and chaotic world of bizarre animals, forms and acts he said 'as strange as life itself'. Looking forward to learning more about his painting, Brett, if your not already there you will like his stuff.

The second Museum, the Reina Sophia had the one and only "Guernica" by Picasso. What a moment, turning around and seeing that. Huge, overwhelming, powerful and plus some. Two guards stood at either end dwarfed, staring back at the crowd, all still, in silent awe. My eye moved over it again and again peeling back the layers of the work, the horse, the lying man, the mother and child, the flame, the Spanish bull all fratured in the rays of white light and shade. The plans and progress of the work are on display too which give insight into the forms and plan of the work. I love his individualism, through the day we stumbled upon several of his in different Museums and knew in a second that they are his due to his unique style.

Dali also blew us away, such busy works in such comparatively small canvasses. My eyes danced around his seeing new forms in the foreground then stepping back into the background. The transition seamless. One moment its a face then a lake. Such perfect paintings. Even with my face to the glass I could barely see the brushstrokes.

The last gallery we visited was the Thyssen, a private collection of Noah's arc proportions. It contains samples of the full history of the painting movement. From the Italian primitives to Renaissance, to the Fauves to Expressionists to Abstract and Surreal to Pop and beyond. Room after room we walked through the history of art. sigh....

And that's just the galleries. The other important thing that makes or breaks a city, other than an excellent metro which Madrid boasts, is the coffee. It was strong, fresh, everywhere and finally affordable. After Greece and Turkey where wed pay up to $NZ7 for a bad reconstituted milk coffee, a descent flat white in Madrid is typically $NZ2 and the best chocolate croissant of our lives only $1NZ! And the food... forget about it! A great pasta on the main drag is only about $NZ9 and a bottle of descent rose only $NZ7 in a silver service restaurant. Hog heaven.

Andy keeps murmuring about how easy it would be to live in Madrid. Its true, its right up our ally and tempting... but at the moment for us, there is no place like home and no bigger draw card than our beautiful friends and family that we miss and talk about every day. Yes alread, after our 1/3 way mark, we're talking a lot about home, what we want, and what to do. Yet we still have 8 months up our sleeve! So don't you worry, home is still where the heart is.

Selcuk, Turkey

I'm sitting by the pool, remedying my hangover by way of sweating it out in extreme heat and the classic - hair of the dog. In this case, its Efe's the turkish standard and very nice pilsener.

I've not drunk much on this trip at all, believe it or not, but last night we both went crazy with a bunch of Aussie backpackers and the lovely NZr, Rosie Fenton (of Haines fame). We were fueled towards this I think by the releasing feeling of being surrounded by people that provided little slices of home. Their accents, mannerisms, style, music, and opinions to an extent too. All mashed together the atmosphere made us feel the most at home either of us have felt on the whole safari!

It was a great night kicked off with a welcome bbq, followed by a pool comp that Andy almost won and ended with the die hards chatting away round our nagili our sheesha's name in Turkey, exchanging travel stories and playing a form of truth or dare... without the dare, so just truth, that as always with a bunch of strangers goes too far!

It was great to be round so many people that understood me when I spoke at my normal speed, and above this could get all my wacky slang. It's been awhile since I could talk so easily (apart from to Andy) without pausing constantly, and extra explanation to get over the language barrier. And more than this it is such a treat to be hanging out with another kiwi. After almost 4 months on the road we have only seen two other NZrs. Strange eh, we are comparatively big travellers compared to other countries but my experience doesn't show this at all. Sometimes people remark they've never met a NZr before, the other day this came from a tour guide of five years in Marmaris, a huge turkish tourist town.

I think you should all hit the road and up the stats around here and swing by for a drink with us!

The joys of independant travel - Crete, Greece

Ups and downs are a fact of life, particularly when you're on the road, so I thought I should give you a taste of this bitter sweet fact by documenting our last few day’s events.

Firstly heading to Crete. It was an exhausting mission composed of two busses on Santorini to the ferry terminal; a 2 hour late ferry to Crete; a rip off cab ride 100m up the road on arrival to the bus station; a bus of unsure destination in the dead of the night across the island resulting in our being stranded in Sissi - a small, skanky, tank top wearing, 20 cm short skirt sporting, glow stick toting, budget cocktails named ' the head f*#ker' producing, general bad side of the Greek islands corrupted by tourists town where we tried unsuccessfully to hire a car to gain some control of our travels; and eventually gave in to another expensive cab ride to our little town of Milatos.

Milatos however was well worth the mission. We were offered a choice of apartments on arrival which for one blew us away as usually we're pointed to a room and that’s that, and opted for the very tasteful 3 b'room apartment with a deck with a beach view sheltered by palms. Yes sir!

We spent 4 beautiful nights there, cooking our own meals which is a treat for us, lounging by the pool, exploring the lovely beachside township almost totally devoid of other tourists, and Crete in our zippy little Chevy rental car, and drinking one day away with some Essex expats with a collection of reptiles in their apartment that would put Wellington Zoo to shame. No shit, they had 16 snakes, a few lizards and a cane toad - one of the boas was 15 feet!!

We meet these critters when we were half boozed (and expecting his boasts to be half hot air) and instead were blown away. I got some excellent photos of us snuggling them. Andy looked awfully Cleopatra like with his little snakey curled around his wrists, sorta like that princess babe in Conan.

Any who, we loved it there, I can honestly say it was the best accommodation so far and we were sad to leave. But exciting too, because as far as we know we were heading to Turkey the next day....we were wrong.

After a 12 hour ferry ride (supposed to be 10), a 75 euro cab ride that was not planned for in our meagre budget, after the planned 10 euro bus never arrived (as they don’t run on Saturdays, and the website timetable doesn’t bother to mention this!), which followed our prearranged cab driver demanding extra money for no decent reason and succeeding as we didn’t have the correct change we arrived in Rhodes. Straight away we were struck by the place and upset that we didn’t have any days planned here. Fate intervened however in the morning when our ferry was cancelled and we had to spend the next day regardless. A good turn of events!Woohoo

Naxos, Greece - Beach Buggin'

We are so glad to be here!
It's super hot, the beaches are absolutely stunning - actually the best I've ever seen - and to match the people are stunning too. The rumours are not true, Greek men are not all super hairy with mono brows and fob chains, there are some amazing specimens about and so far both Greek men and women are on top of my most attractive list for this trip.
Needless to say skin exposure is on a high and is the biggest relief after the middle east. To walk the streets in a sleeveless dress was my biggest kick on our first day, let alone all the nudey bathing since.
For the last two days we've hired a little beach buggy to tiki tour the island. Great call, each day we pack a little picnic and fire off around the coast to see the sights and sites.
The buggy scores high on the cool factor, being a low riding, open air bright yellow broom broom, but really low on comfort as its fricken loud, and offers no reprieve from the heat which reaches about 35 degrees with no breeze.
So, we zipped around and saw some beautiful old white wash churches, one as old as 600ad though you wouldn't think it, ancient marble statues, marble mines, one literally overflowing into an avalanche of white rock against a huge green peak - stunning, and also visited a Temple to Demeter which was the oh so classically Greek columned style I've been hanging out for in my minds eye of what I'll see in Greece.
The beaches are killer - we found one beautiful little bay amongst the white stone where we had our Greek picnic and lazed for the day. I looked so funny, swimmimng topless with my white goggles on checking out the fishes and old marble rock under the water. Its no biggie here to go topless so an ace opportunity to get a clean, no lines tan not to mention have the hippie sense of being one with nature swimming near nude in the med.
I see why people fall in love with this place!

Wadi Musa, Petra, Jordan - the search for the Holy Grail

At the moment we're high up in the hills of Jordan in Wadi Musa to visit Petra (yes, the place that Indie found and lost the Holy Grail in number 3). It is absolutely stunning and not to brag but our second world wonder on this trip.

We have 5 days here now instead of our planned 3, as the previous accomodation in Aqaba near the border tried to put us in a tent instead of a room at an exhorbatant rate for what it was, in 50 degree temps...so not an option!! So, after a 24 hour day of travel and some well worded business advice to the ahole hotel staff in Aqaba, we jumped ship early and hailed a cab to Wadi Musa.

To describe where we are now, it's a small mountain town where every house is made of stone and painted cream. It's surrounded by ancient, jagged, dry, erroded hills of rock and is visually to die for. We've been treated by crimson desert sunsets iced with a cresent moon the last two nights...awww.

The people are way freindlier than the first batch of Jordanians that I met last month, but that's pretty easy. But of course, they are more used to tourists here and our skin exposing ways. I am still carefull however not to attract too much attention, so have reverted to some strategic conversions of dresses to long skirts etc in a terribly daggy fashion, but worth it.

We met a stunning Bedouin man today in Petra who chatted with us while we smoked hooka. He lives in the caves, is 27, and unmarried. For that reason, Rachael Lowe, we've decided you should never visit here as you would be too tempted to stay and marry a local! He told us a few tales of western woman who come here for a week or so holiday and instead married and never left! One is a NZ'er who married a Bedouin man here 27 years ago, and has written a book on her experiences. We'll have to met her tomorrow to get her last name and look her book up, should be interesting hearing how she adjusted to the cave dwelling nomadic lifestyle here. Funny though, you see these guys, wearing their long robes and thick eye makeup and can easily see how women get swept up in it. Dont worry though, Andy is enough of a gorgeous nomad for me to ever be tempted by those boys!

xxxxx

Jerusalem - Holy!

I'm sitting in a beautiful and of course very old, as are most things here, stone hostel about 200m away from the 'Old City' part in Jerusalem.

I love the Old City area, it's a labrinyth of ancient white stone with everything you hope to see in Jerusalem in one place: amazing historical sites, fantastic markets, and of course great cafes. It's completely walled in by huge crusade style architecture and is divided into four quarters: Muslim, Armenian, Christian and Jewish, each as you can imagine, with their own unique character on offer.

The markets are brimming with gorgeous fabrics, glass works, ceramics, colourful stone beads and handcrafted jewelery to spices, teas, dried fruits and arabic sweets (my favourite is by far rose and pistachio...mmm). It's all so tempting but sadly apart from the cafes, too pricy for me and for that matter not the sort of thing to squash in our packs for the next 9 months to get home, so ba humbug!

We have however bought a frankincense burner, arabic coffee and pot and a sheesha (hookah) pipe so we can continue the arabic lifestyle down the line. Here's hoping we can get it all through customs... Sheesha was always predicted to be an indulgence for us in this part of the world which today we had in the Muslim Quarter with the perfect partner - mint tea. Quite the scene, being the only woman sitting amongst robed men puffing away, eyebrows raised and a little boy giggled.

Jerusalem is holy to three major religions; Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It's the holiest city in Judaism and the spiritual center of the Jewish people since the 10th century BCE. Some of the holy sites in the Old City are: the Temple of the Mount (where the Jews believe Adam and the world for that matter was created) and the West Wall (the Western Wall is venerated as the sole remnant of the 1st Holy Temple and a place of pilgrimage for Jews, as it's the closest permitted accessible site to the holiest spot in Judaism), the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, (where Jesus is said to have been killed and buried) - we had no idea of this when we were in there, bad uneducated tourist! will go back today to take it in, and the Dome of the Rock (where the Muslims believe Muhammad ascended to God) which is absolutely beautiful and of course I took copiuos photos.

Needless to say its pretty amazing seeing these sights. I couldnt help but think of how many other people would love to see them as it would mean so much more to them than they do to us little atheists, however the history, the art and amazing architecture was pretty moving. I often find myself watching the pilgrims as much as the sights because they're so swept up in it. I find it amazing that they believe in it so passionately when the other religions and sights and contradictory tales are so nearby. Thats just me. Oh to be so one sided - life would be so simple.

Given this history, there's no wonder there is so much conflict here. Yesterday as you probably read, a Palestinian charged a bulldozer down a busy street close to where I sit now on a rampage, killing three Israelis and injuring over 40 people. I was surprised by the Prime Ministers response to this which was; "I think we need to be tougher in some of the means we use against perpetrators of terror. If we have to destroy houses, then we must do so, and if we have to stop their social benefits, then we must do so. There cannot be a case where they massacre us and at the same time they get all the privileges that our society provides". An interesting response when the bulldozer attacker was shot dead on the spot, so he would only be punishing the family by a cruel and clearly unfair form of collective punishment, and is dangerously teetering on the edge with that statement of speaking about the Palestinians as a whole not the family?! Argh. I dont know what the answers are here but that's an example of the chaos of both the actions and reasoning underlying this complex, beautiful, and ancient waring area.

It's definately a bizzare feeling when we stop and think about where we are and what does happen on these streets but I can honestly say we feel safe. I saw that bulldozer article, see huge tanks being transported by night, see gun towers and the gun toting teenage soldiers, but I also see a country striving for the normality of daily life without conflict, trying to find a way ahead on a person to person level.

On a completely different and cherrier note, I can't believe it has been less than 3 months since we left NZ. It feels like so long ago. I'm already having fantasies about catching up with all of you, holidays around NZ, a flat white from Fidel's or a Chargrilled Pineapple Caipirinha from the Matterhorn on my return!! Way ahead of myself there. Come on Emma, you still have the motherland of Caipirinha's to go - Brazil.... let alone half the world.

Happy Birthday (Month) BRETT!, I am desperatly looking for a cool milestone bday present for you but they are all so holy and biased in that way that I've had no luck yet... it's like searching for the holy grail...well we are going to Petra on Sunday so I'll see if Indy left it there. That'd be a sweet present eh? I'll try xx

Golan Heights, Israel

Shalom!

We've spent the last week in Israel in the Golan heights with Andys brother, Nessem. Another treat of our travels, thanks to Andys family again, is having this opportunity to live and breathe the culture and lifestyle in Israel, and more importantly spend time with Nessem who Andy rates as one of the most important people in his life.

We had planned on Israel being the end of our mideast trip, mainly to make parting a lesser sorrow with the fam, however changed our routing on a whim within an hour of arriving in Jordan. This was thanks to a greedy handed airport worker who groped me on the bus! I, being the polite kiwi pushed his hand away rather than shouting, smacking, or generally embarrasing him publicly which is what I learnt afterwards is the correct response. It seems obvious now but in the moment my intinct took over and sadlyI froze reverting to the subtle manners approach, thinking 'surely he gets that I am not into this guff. Nope, got to be tough here. My carefuly arranged arsenal of angry looks, short responses to his typical, 'where are you from' type questions, and carefully arranged arm, bag and books on my lap, didn't do much good to keep away his intrusive hands. Grr! Not a biggie, but really offensive. Next time I will bite...not literally but you know.

So, definately not to judge the country by one sour apple, but after that experience and the general first impressions of Jordan we realised that the best way to cut our losses and ease into our new surroundings would be to hop accross the border straight away, being the impulsive munchkins we are, and start off in Israel.

So after a long days travel from Amman to Jerusalem, then to the top of Israel we surprised Nessem by walking down the main drag a month early!

Needless to say it's my first time in occupied territory - the Golan Heights was taken by Israel from Syria in the 6 day war in the 1960's, and the military presence is strong in my virginal eyes. When Iraelis hit 17 years old they automatically serve 2 years in the military and following this 1 month each year until they reach 60! Its pretty strange seeing kids in skate shoes with pants around their asses and M16's slung over their sides sleeping on the bus next to us.

The food here is to die for, the largely organic fruit is usually picked the same day we eat it day by Nessems mother who still works the fields, or by a sneaky side of the road manouver on our drives through the country. I've never had cherries or apricots like these before. The hummus, falafel, and local cheese 'lahbne' is too good. Aula, Nessem's wife is going to teach me to make it for ya'll on my return!


It's a beautiful country and obviously a strong contrast to Asia and for that matter NZ. I could babble for hours about it but as we are using the neighbours internet I'll resist. I will say though that it is far more lush than I expected. It is more like what I imagined a lot of Europe to be like with the fresh produce and cream stone hills dotted with olive trees and stone fruit orchards. You know it's Israel though when you see the old bunkers, active mine fields and ruins of castles from the crusades. One, Nimrod castle dates back to 1229 ad, during the 6th Crusade. We drive past it each day, there's much history here! It's facinating being somewhere so old for a little kiwi. Jerusalem was another story! HOLY!! (haha)

Anywho, rest assured despite the infamy of Israel and the Golan Heights, and the UN presence here we are utterly safe. Nessem, Aula, and Andy, their son (and Andy's namesake) are great hosts and we are having a blast.

I'll add some photos soon.

xxx

p.s - We have decided to flag Egypt this trip as it will just be too damned hot this time of year. Instead we're swapping it for more Greek Islands and a few weeks in Turkey!!
Egypt will have to wait for the Africa Expedition in 2011

Team Fancypants and Fanzipan Mountain - Sapa, Vietnam

Wooooohoooooooo!!

We just climbed Fansipan Mountain, the highest mountain in Vietnam at 3,143m and the highest peak in the entire Indochina Peninsula. Dad, I hope you're proud!

It's a fair feat when you compare it to Mount Cook which is 3,754m, so 611m less than that. However to be fair the conditions are a lot easier on Fanzipan, no ice, no equipment required. Hold on, I'm making it sound too easy. Rethink.

When we first met our guide he told us that 'women can't climb the mountian because they are too weak' and continued on along the lines of 'we wont make it' and will probably give up... Me and my female companion joked around, like, 'oh but we're pretty strong'... dead pan response, 'most women stay at base camp or turn around'.

Not at all what we needed to hear after a nights stressing over the stupidity to commiting to this tortutous plan of a three day tramp into the foothills of the Himalayas tackling the highest peak of the region. I was really nervous that I wouldn't make it.

To put this in more of a 'oh dear' perspective, this was on the back of our second sleepless overnight train, and a 16 hour day in Hanoi consisting of pure time absorbption till the next train in the form of 30 cent beers. I was exhaugshted and freaked at the idea of physical activity, let alone this extreme challenge, but frustratingly could not think of a valid excuse apart from fear of failure. Andy was in a worse situation than me, subsitsting on less than 4 hours sleep on top of the 2 day travel exhaughstion and about four to five times the amount of hangover I suffered... go figure...

Day one was fine, an easy tramp through beautiful misty rainforest, a few river crossings and small inclines to our base camp. We made it under the predicted time - good start.

Day two however was the real test. We were up at 6am and left base at 7am. A long, gruelling, slippery, cold, wet, mud coated, knee jolting, thigh straining, back fudging yet somehow fun half day later, we were all on top of the mountain eating baguettes and drinking cold coffee. What a sight. I was soaked, with umpa loompa hair, sporting short shorts, muddy legs and a $1 poncho made from a plastic with less thickness than your average supermarket bag not to mention missing a whole arm (an earlier casualty), standing on a misty, wet, rocky, peak saluting my achievement with a Mars bar. I am so proud we did it! We knocked it off!

Other credits aside from my achievement of climbing it with lack of sleep and well, overall fitness go to Andy with his ridiculous hangover, worse lack of sleep and his terrible knees and above that to to Jessie, one of our fellowship, who was hammered by travellers tum the night prior and had serious tummy cramps and no real nutrients at all in his system but still made it to the top! Ridiculous.

I'm super glad we conquered it particularly after the guides sexist, pessimistic, un-encouraging comments! HOH, we did it in time, and un fit! JEEZ. Sisters are doing it for themselves eh Sarah!!

Outro: the Team Fancypants theme song 'Aint no mountain high enough...'
We played this when ever we needed encouragement and, well, when we were getting hyper. Contrary though, it was totally high enough for me!

We were really lucky to meet and form Team Fancypants, by luck from sharing a van up to Sapa with three travellers planning to vanquish the mountian. Without them I know we wouldn't have done it, we just wouldn't have considered it! It turned out to be such a great call and perfect with such great people. Definatly a major joy of travelling is the people you meet along the way. And in this situation hopefully, we'll see these guys down the line - Sarah, maybe Portugal, Jesse, maybe Spain for the tomato mash up, and Nic... You tell us! Definately more cards, mad challenges, and red wine.

Dalat and Mui Ne, Vietnam, A Few Firsts.

We had a few firsts in Mui Ne. It was our first Vietnam beach town, our first moto hire, first puncture, first descent rip off and my first real desert experience.

To begin, the moto. Andy decided to give an manual a shot, and was surprised to find there's no clutch on these beasties. Is that the norm? Not sure. I always thought Harleys have clutches? Anyway, he took to it really well, and soon we were living our Vietnam easy rider dream thundering (as much as a little moto can) around the stunning coast line.

The freedom was great, we've been cooped up so much public transport and tours that I'd forgotton how grand it is to be your own master. We toured the countryside, stopping off at some local fishing spots to get a look see at the traditional painted boats with bold yellow, red, and blue stripes across the sides and two big eyes painted on the stern. There were hundreds of them. We also stopped at a cemetry facing out to the sea with stone plots painted bright blue, green and pink all pastel bursting out of the red sand earth. Stunning. The area reeked of kodak moments as awkward as we felt about it.

We continued our tour 25km out to the white sand dunes where you can hire plastic boards off local kids to ride the huge dunes on your belly. Unfortunately this is where our back tyre blew out! Andy did well to control the bike which fish tailed a little and brought it to a stop. SHIT. It was super duper hot and we were on top of a hill god knows where. Not a good feeling.

So we took it off the road and walked to the next town, luckily not too far off. Promptly we found a 'honda' shop - painted on a piece of cardborad hanging from a tree. It was a home made tin shack with a man sleeping in a hammock and a monkey chained to the side. Excellent.

20 mins later we were back on the road $200,000 dong lighter. It turns out it should have only been $20,000D but them's the breaks, I should have batered, I should have asked the man to call our resort to negotiate payment, but instead we were so happy to get it sorted we didnt really stop to think. Good news is $200,000D is about $15NZD and the hotel came to the party of a quater of this after some major battles.

So we continued on, out to the dunes along a dirt road with a oasis on our right, spattered with pink lotus blooms and palm trees, and another stunning cemetry on our left. A kid waved us down shouting 'whi san doon!' and we hired his mats and headed out to the desert on foot.

Worst call ever. It was noon, it was dry, it was hot beyond belief, and the dunes unknowingly were about 15 mins walk away. The walk out was hard, instantly I lagged behind Andy, my hobbit legs cursing my advance. every full step turned to a quarter as my feet sank into the sand. the sun pounded down, and the incline of the dunes was soon upon us. It was a stunning sight, cliffs of white sand against a bright blue sky, wind whipping over the tops making little sand fountains that curled around the peaks. Whatever. This was wasted on me as the sun had sapped my energy and patience along with it.

As we climbed the wind picked up and soon we were being thrashed by sand - yes girls - microderm abrasion, sun bedding and sauna all in one! Microderm abrasion on the eyeballs though, not so fun.

Soon we reached the top of the ridge and gave surfing a go. Andy started out really slow, tossing sand up making watching him impossible. I lay down on the slope, face first, but no movement. The sand was washing over me as the wind scattered over the top of the dune. It was about 50% air 50% sand. Eyes closed, mouth closed. I started getting desperate and flapped myself round like a dying seal to get some traction and get out of the sand stream. Woosh! Suddenly i was flying down with my feet out trying to slow it down! Andy was like a target in my sights, smiling away, till he realised the trajectory and leapt aside, a near miss.

It was fun for 15 seconds, but effort vs reward, no way worth it! Getting back out of the valley was harder still, the incline was greater, the sun was hotter, I was hotter, basically a sand crusted beast. On the second ascent I was pathetic, every two minutes i had to stop to let the energy return to my weakened thighs. It was a strange feeling, i wasnt tired, or panting, my sweat was dry by the sun and sand, but i had absolutely no energy or muscle to get up the hill, forced to move at a snails pace.

When i finaly did make it i resolved to retreat, Andy however decided to give it one more go after his dismal beginning. Bad call. When i saw him again at the top of the next ridge his face was red with blood, his eyes lost, his feet heavy. Way worse than i had been. My eyes were spotted with the begginings of a faint so we headed back. I am proud to admit during our exhaustive walk back i still managed to be a green kiwi and pick up the scattered cigarette packets across the sand. Some people eh, littering in the desert! i dont know.

When we made it back to the roadside stand, I collapsed and inhaled a big bottle of water. The kid took Andy around the back and cooled him Vietnamese style with buckets of well water. He even even soaped his head. What a sight!! I took photos but they do the moment no justice. I'm sure the kid thought it was all pretty funny. ...ha ....ha ...ha

Lesson - deserts are ridiculously hot and punishing, and desert sports are generally a bad idea. Go figure.