Hanora The Explorer

"Right, That's It, I'm Brushing Your Hair. You Look Like Bob Marley." (Thanks Annabella)

2008-06-03T23:34:00.000-07:00

26.05.08

I've got to write this down quickly before I forget... For breakfast yesterday, Anna and I had:

An assortment of exotic fruit, natural yoghurt, flavoured yoghurt, four types of cereal, toast with jam, sweet sultana toast with butter, waffles with syrup, pancakes with chocolate syrup, bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, fritters, ham, salami, salad, six different types of fruit juice for Anna and a bottomless cup of coffee for me.

(Note: I don't usually like it when the waitress monitors your cup and fills it up before its even half empty (maybe a bonus goes to whoever can empty their coffee jug first. I swear after two sips I saw one waitress push another one into the pool, in the race to fill my cup.) because I like to monitor how much caffeine I drink (I go a bit funny), but the coffee in Thailand is so good that fazed I was not.) (Sorry for all the brackets. I love a bracket.)

Each. For ten pounds.

We've pretty much consumed some form of the above for breakfast everyday for the past six days. If you haven't guessed already... We made it to Thailand!

To cut a painfully long story short, I went to the British Embassy in Brisbane (Australia) and there I met my Fairy Godmother; the spectacular Robyn. Robs managed to sort everything out for me - she harrassed the police, begged a courier company in Cairns and rang what felt like half the population of Port Douglas, until somehow she managed to arrange the transportation of my passport from Port Douglas to Cairns in less than four hours. I was 80% sure that she had a Magic Wand. And I was 90% sure that when she delivered the news and I squealed "AH! Thankyou Robyn! I could kiss you!" that I meant it. (She told me not to because of the security cameras.)

So here we are in Thailand. We landed in Bangkok on the 24th and were met with a culture shock that welcomed us with big overwhelming dirty *INSERT YOUR OWN SYNONYM FOR "DISGUSTING" HERE* arms. Bangkok is pretty much one big open sewer, which no one bloody warned me about. Breathing is a tricky business - if you can get used to the fact that the air is thickened dramatically by the humidity (practise getting your head around this by trying to inhale soup. Not the steam. The soup. Extra points if it's chunky soup) then all you really have to worry about is the gagging and wretching reflexes that come with the smell. You wise owls will be like, "Err, just breathe through your nose. Idiot", however I researched this and found that a) you can still smell Eggy Bangkok and b) my dad used to say, when driving through farmland smells, "Don't breathe through your nose, else you'll taste it!" Which I believed up until I was 16. And am still conscious about. And believe me, no one wants to taste Bangkok!

To be honest, I'm surprised that we actually stayed in Bangkok for a whole four days! Initially we stayed in the aesthetically pleasing Omari "Hello Five Stars" Hotel, which was a palace. But the location wasn't ideal (is there any ideal location in Bangkok?) and so we moved on to Kao San Road.

Kao San Road is dirty, sweaty and desperately desperate. Market stalls line the streets on both sides selling clothing, souls and souvenirs. (And God knows what else.) You literally cannot walk two paces without a vender desperately clawing at you and begging you to consider their products (which cost around 50 pence but can be knocked down to about 20).

"Bee-oo-ti-fal layyydee. Come look, I got pretty dress for you. I do you good discount!"

And if the market holders didn't get you, the streets are littered with others who might:

No I do not want a tuk tuk. No I do not want a massage. No I do not want a room for the night. No I do not want a tour of Thailand. No I do not want a taxi. No I do not want a bucket of "Strong Very Cocktail". No I do not want you to draw me. No I do not want a toy that makes a croaking froggy noise (because it scares me abit!) And to that awful woman who had a cage crammed full of baby birds, no I will not pay you 500 baht for you to set them free (only for you to re-capture them when I'm not looking and emotionally blackmail another traveller five minutes later), but I would perhaps pay a tuk tuk driver 500 baht to run you over, you nasty nasty woman!

We stayed in a guesthouse which we nicknamed "The Hole" (need I say more) and fled the road full of people begging... to a river full of people begging: the infamous Floating Markets! Pretty much Kao San Road, but river style! However the difference here was that you couldn't just shout "NO!" at people because you were on a wooden canoe snaking through their stalls. An experience none the less and we felt very cultured when we purchased wooden hats to keep the sun off.

It was only when one cheeky Thai man said, "Hahaha! Where you beeeen? Vietnam? Haha" that we realised why the locals were all laughing at us.

The same day we visited a Tiger Palace hoping to add a "look at me, I'm stroking a tiger!"-esque picture to our photo albums.

Sadly a thunderstorm hit and we were forced to stand in the torrential rain whilst they took the tigers away. Apparently the big cats don't like monsoons. Neither do we.

Highlight of the trip: Anna being forced to buy and wear a massive "Tiger Temple" t-shirt because they wouldn't let her in with the clothes she was wearing (too much flesh on show)! Haha. But it all worked out ok because atleast I got to stroke a tiger, even if it was just the massive one printed on Anna's favourite t-shirt.

That's one to show the grandkids!

The Day Of The Chocolate Mudcake

2008-05-23T02:59:00.000-07:00

21.05.08

I should have known it was going to be a bad day when I reversed the van into a tree.

I would love to write a charming little entry about how we had the van for 12 days, adhering to the Good Driver's Handbook as if we wrote it... and then on the morning of returning the van back to the rental company, I reverse smack back into a silver birch. (For the record, Anna was using my rear view mirror to do her make up in and still maintain that the tree was not there the night before when I parked up.)

Basically, Anna lost my passport.

And so we went to the Police Station and reported it missing. And we told them that we're supposed to be flying out to Thailand in three days. And after a pained silence the police women told us that I better get myself to the British Embassy. And we said "ok, fine". And then she said "Erm, the British Embassy is in Brisbane". And so we said, "But, we're in Cairns." And she said, "The travel agents is that way."

So off we went to the travel agents, stopping every ten minutes or so so I could hug Anna to let her know that it wasn't her fault (because, lets face it, if it would have been up to me to look after the passports then we'd still be in LA, stranded!) The nice lady at the travel agents sorted me out a last minute flight for half four the next morning and a returning flight at eight the same night, which gave me enough time to get to the British Embassy and convince them that despite my messy orange hair I am actually quite a nice girl and that I'd really like it if they could grant me an emergency passport. The flights were pricey however we reasoned that because it's an emergency the travel insurance should cover it.

All sorted. Right?

Wrong.

The palm prints were still visible on our backs from where we'd given them a triumphant pat to congratulate a problem well solved, when the inevitable happened.

The police rang; they'd found my passport.

And so I asked them where they had found it and she said Port Douglas and I said nothing. And then she asked me where I was and I said Cairns and we both said nothing. And then she asked me how I was going to get all the way back up to Port Douglas to get it and I asked if I could ring her back. And then I hung up and told Anna and Anna said nothing.

So basically we were dealt with a huge problem. We were in Cairns, my passport was in Port Douglas, I was booked onto a flight down to Brisbane in six hours, I had an appointment with the British Embassy the next day and the day after the day after we were flying out to Thailand.

And on top of that Anna had spent $400 on my flight hoping to claim it back on insurance for a lost passport. A passport that was no longer lost.

Everywhere was closed so we had no idea how we were going to get my passport and even if we did, we didn't know whether the police would have cancelled it. And the last thing that I wanted to happen was to get arrested at the airport for trying to flee the country on void documents. Because I really want to see an elephant in Thailand.

And so here I am. It's half four in the morning and I'm sitting on the plane without my passport forgetting other half. If I wasn't eating a giant bag of starbursts and writing with a Mickey Mouse pen (borrowed from the mother sitting next to me) then I'd actually feel quite grown up!

Oh, speaking of planes...! I jumped out of one the other day.

We finally found the perfect destination to do our sky dive and despite the fact that I've got orange hair in the photo's, I am glad that we waited. We had been advised by friends, old and new, to do our sky dive at Mission Beach and we were lucky enough to have the flexibility of the van to get us there. Mission Beach in itself is gorgeous and we felt instantly relaxed in the little town.

As relaxed as we could be whilst in the knowledge that a parachute was beckoning!

The anticipation is so much worse than the jump itself. The man that I was jumping with put me completely at ease with constant reassurance and he wasn't fazed in the slightest when I quizzed him on his competence. I thought this necessary at the time because he had a shaved head. Anna's man however prefered the tough love approach and attempted to calm us down with jokes in the plane on the way up.

Which wouldn't have been so bad if the jokes were not targetted at the jump itself. Oh he covered everything; my personal favourites were when he said that my parachute was "the dodgy one... but it should be ok", telling us that it was only his second week sky diving and that he's only killed two people so far... "Which is actually quite good!"

What a hoot. A simple "Knock knock..." would have sufficed.

Banter at 14,000 feet is not appreciated.

I had a bit of a corker myself. When I had decided that we were quite high enough I asked Skin Head how high we were and was delighted when he said 1,400 feet. "Oh! We're here! That didn't take too long... This is fine! We're not actually even that high!" Silence on the plane.

"14,000 feet Hanna, not 1,400!!!" Good job he was the one pulling the chord, eh!

There were three other jumpers with their professionals crammed into the back of the plane with us. I jumped fourth, Anna jumped fifth (I always go first in everything because we've decided that I'm the biggest risk to bail out of doing things.) As well as the man on my back, I had another man with a video camera jumping out with me to capture my big arms wobbling about in the air on camera. His name was Jeremy and he was ravishingly beautiful. If I hadn't have been such a bumbling nervous wreck I possibly would have asked him to marry me. One by one the other three jumpers toppled out of the plane and despite my petrified resistance, Skin Head shuffled us over to the open plane doors.

When you're sitting on the edge of the plane and you've got your legs dangling over 14,000 feet of Australian air... you want to look down, you want to look back at Anna, you want to look at your video man who's climbed onto the side of the plane (Jeremy! What are you doing... Get down you gorgeous maniac!) and you want to close your eyes. You've got a split second to decide what you want to look at; I chose to look up at the blue sky because sky is sky no matter how far away from it you are. And then faster than you can say "I've changed my mind", you're thrusted out of the plane and you're toppling around in the air. For the first 30 seconds you're

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" and then you're "OhMyGodI'mFallingI'mFallingI'mFalling" and then you're speechless. You're so high that your mind doesn't register exactly how high you are so it doesn't feel scary; it just doesn't feel real. It's also quite surreal watching somebody falling in front of you, I consciously remember looking at Jeremy the camera man and thinking "Wow! His face is flapping about a bit." And then being mortified because if his lovely face was jelly on a plate then what on earth does my blubbery mush look like... and was it really a good idea to get a dvd of it! After a few seconds of trying to keep my mouth closed to minimise the amount of flappage, I gave up and just enjoyed the amazing views of the coast and the beach and the legendary great barrier reef and Jeremy and the tiny islands. Looking down from 14,000 feet is a very flattering angle for Australia.

If somebody told me that we had been free falling for an hour then I'd probably have believed them. (Although I'd be skeptical because I don't seem to be able to go an hour without eating these days so my stomach probably would have smelt a rat.) However the freefall apparently lasted only 60 seconds. The whole time throughout the 60 seconds you're waiting for the parachute to go up and then two hours later you're heavily thrusted backwards and you're like, "AHHHH! What the hell was that?! Has something gone wrong!!!" And they're like, "Chill out it's just the parachute". And you feel silly.

All in all I've decided that jumping out of a plane is quite good.

(But it perhaps would have tasted slightly better with a bit of Passport on the side!)

He Blatently Sent Us To The Supermarket So He Could Pinch Our Van..! Oh Wait. We're In It.

2008-05-19T20:23:00.001-07:00

12.05.08

If you ask any backpacker to name their Top 5 Must Do Travelling Experiences, I'd eat my boomerang if Fraser Island didn't make the top 3.

Legend has it, when you "do" Fraser Island you board a ferry with a group of young and excitable like minders, get divided into groups of ten, given a 4x4 Jeep and sent on your jolly way to discover paradise. As always, our experience did not quite conform.

Oh, we got put with the Odd Squad didn't we!

We were stuck in a jeep with two painfully quiet Swedish girls, a Chinese family who slept through most of it, one bloke who wrapped his t-shirt around his head (chill out Rambo, just pop it in your rucksack or something!), a tour guide who made it quite clear that he didn't want to be there (to the extent where he neither toured nor guided us) and don't even get me started on the window licker in the front.

The island itself was beautiful. Some people say that once you've seen a few beaches then you've seen them all... but you really haven't seen anything remotely like Fraser Island until you have seen Fraser Island. It's the worlds largest sand island, and they don't just give that title out for nothing. It. Is. Massive. If you look to your left, all you can see is miles and miles of white powdery sand and if you look to your right, once again it is Sand City for as far as the eye can see. Absolutely stunning, just a shame that we were grouped with the most boring people in the Southern Hemisphere.

However, despite Fraser Island not being as fun as we anticipated spirits remained high because the next day we picked up The King (of The Jungle) AKA our campervan. We decided to rent a camper to get us up the East Coast of Australia and it has definitely ended up being our best "Important Travelling Decision" so far (aside from getting our tattoos done!) It smells of damp and beer, has room for only one thin foam mattress in the back (note: hips do meet wood) and has a massive rhinoceros painted onto the side... but we love it.

The freedom that you get when you're living in the back of a van is unbelievable; before, we were totally constricted to the confines of a New Zealand bus time table, however now we really can come and go as well please. I love it when we meet people and they ask how long we're staying in that area for... and we can casually reply "who knows, whenever!"

We've been roadtrippin' from town to town in The King for eight days now and it has been the best eight days of our trip: stopping off at beaches along the way, cooking up disgusting/delightful culinary treats on our little gas stove, bonding with fellow campers and tasting parts of Australia that are not available to most tourists travelling via conventional methods.

And if you were wondering whether this new phase in our travels has steered us away from our former lives of petty crime, ponder no longer. We're as naughty as ever... instead of sneaking into hostels, we now sneak into campsites and use the facilities there!

Nothing beats a free shower.

PS. Just a little jokey about the tattoos mother.

Is Enox A Word? No.

2008-05-09T02:16:00.000-07:00

Go on Carl!

Phase two of our travels is now over. We have officially said goodbye to the "Land Of The Long White Cloud" and "Good'ay mayte" to Oz.

Our final days in New Zealand involved a hefty amount of raw fish (sushi a day keeps the pies away!), the invention of "alcoholic scrabble" (I cunningly tricked people into being geeks with me by turning it into a drinking game. Not that the original scrabble needs adapting in the slightest because it is actually wickedy wick wicks), more emotional goodbyes (tears were invovled. Note: Anna would like me to say that she didn't actually cry. Big girls don't cry) and jumping into a massive rubber ball and being hurtled down a hill (see picture below. It's called zorbing and it's all the rage).

We didn't manage to do our sky dive in the end because the weather changed however we're all set for jumping out of a plane in a few days on Mission Beach. Which will be nice. I'm being rather nonchalant over the idea of falling out of a plane because I have decided to block the whole thing from my mind. What plane?

We flew into Melbourne on the 2nd and although the weather wasn't exactly scorching we loved it. Aside from funky boutiques and trendy bars the streets in Melbourne are adorned with sculptures and pieces of art; a giant cow chilling in a tree (not a real one) and an oversized fibreglass purse were amongst my personal favourites. The markets in Melbourne are also fantastic and sell everything from Greek delights to toffee apples, very 'borough marketesque' - but with more free samples (which ofcourse we rinsed). However at one point, possibly on our fourth loop around the "sample stools" one market holder removed the free bread and dips because we were eating her out of house and home. "Can I help you girls?" "No." (Bring back dip!) The discovery of the liquer tent was also a joyous hour; being the wine connoisseurs that we are we insisted on multiple samples to really help distinguish the differences between the aged wines. The 2001 Chardonnay was definitely more 'oaky' than the 2004, or was it the rioja? After the fourth stall they all tasted the same.

Like free wine!

Whilst in Melbourne we also went to Luna Park - a theme park that leaves a lot to be desired; there are more rides at Billing Aquadrome and atleast that's got a bar!

The highlight of Melbourne was, begrudgingly, the neighbours night. I, personally, am far too cool to watch neighbours however Annabella is a neighbours bandit and so we went on the tour of the street and the night itself. The "tour" was an extortioners dream; we paid forty dollars to go to a street that we could have driven to ourselves and met an ex-cast member that one of the girls on the tour had seen on the tram the day before. However the night was brilliant. The pub itself was a little "Hey! Look at me! I can be an English pub!" but it did have a great atmosphere and four relatively "famous" (as neighbours actors go) stars came out and done the whole "meet and great" thing. I particularly enjoyed meeting and greeting the gorgeous Stuart Parker who made a rather suggestive comment (sorry scott!) which I am far too ladylike to print. And ofcourse, Carl Kennedy himself and watching his band play was fantastically cheesy. At one point Carl reached out into the crowd, grabbed Anna's camera off of her and took a picture of us! I would be screaming this from the Ozzie rooftops if it wasn't for the fact that Anna had accidentally drunkenly deleted the picture on the tram home.

Anna is no longer allowed to look at our pictures when she is drunk.

The neighbours night was our last night in Melbourne, and even though I didn't know my Doctor Darcey's from my Jannelle Simmon's, it was the perfect way to end our five days.

Next stop, Brisbane!

Free Counter

Steven, Would You Please Hold My Egg.

2008-04-29T23:40:00.001-07:00

The past few days Anna and I have powered through New Zealand faster than you can say the world "blur".

Over the last six days we have stayed in five different hostels in six different towns. Ranging from a Lake Front lodge looking over Lake Tekapo to a "party" hostel in downtown Christchurch. It's the second time that we've found ourselves in Christchurch and I'm amazed at how we didn't realise first time around how strikingly British everything is. I was expecting to turn into Abington Street at one point.

Our bus also stopped off for the 2nd time in Kaikura (where we swam with dolphins) and the drinkers amongst us soon gathered in the hostel kitchen playing drinking games until the early hours. It was pointed out to me that I seem to make up nicknames for almost everyone I meet (a characteristic I think I have inherited from my father. If you know my dad, then you've got a nickname) however as the night wore on and the alcohol continued to flow the creativity started to lapse and I got into the habit of calling people by their country of birth. All was well until I hollered "OI! Irish!" to a paticularly patriotic Scottish lad. I went to bed soon after that.

The next day we found ourselves saying goodbye to the South Island and boarded the ferry up to the North Island, hangovers in tow. We arrived in Wellington a few hours later and to our utter disgust found that the only available room at the hostel was a boys dorm. Not wishing to seem ungrateful and certainly not willing to entertain the thought of being homeless for the night we followed the smell to the all boys dorm. Anna's face was a picture.

From what we could make out through the discarded underwear and boy scum, there was six beds. Four of them and two of us right? Wrong. Five of them and two of us. One lad had been stowing away without paying. In my bed. I duefully chucked him out and we set about thinking how we was going to survive a night in a tiny box room with four jewish boys and one skally wag.

Alcohol, that's how.

Cut to a few hours later and we are in a sports bar rammed with football hooligans, watching English football and screaming "SAME OLD CHELSEAAAA, ALWAYS CHEATINGGG!" with the best of 'em. Skip a few more hours and Anna and Chris are sitting in a "bungee ball" - a cage attached to two bungy chords in the middle of the street - and are being catapulted into the wellington sky. And then back down again. And then back up again.

Shortly after, Anna complained about feeling "Not Good Drunk", which is never good, so we retired back to our stinky boy hostel, too drunk to care.

All fun and games this life lark, isn't it.

Next stop, Napier!

Free Counter

Look, a sausage!! HAHAHAHAHA

2008-04-27T04:37:00.000-07:00

24.04.08

The anticipation surrounding Queenstown was met with pure satisfaction when we finally arrive, following the lengthy bus journey from Franz Josef. Queenstown, we were informed, is one of those busy towns that caters for all. And it definitely did not disappoint. You want to jump off a bridge with an elastic band around your ankles? Go to Queenstown. You feel like jumping out of a plane? Go to Queenstown. Ever wondered what the best burger in the whole world tastes like? Get yourself to Queenstown.

You could say that after spending nine hours crammed on the back seat of a bus, next to the most irritatingly immature boys we have yet to meet (the type to fall on the floor laughing when they hear the word "sausage", smell a sausage or see a sausage) then we'd be amazed by anywhere, however Queenstown was probably one of my favourite place we've been to so far.

We didn't venture out to any bars the first night that we arrrived because Lizzie, Elinor, Anna and I were all suffering from a one track mind: hunting down and demolishing the legend that is The Ferg Burger. I've found that information that is passed through the backpacking community sometimes suffers the same fate as Chinese whispers, bits get distracted and exaggerated and one mans rock is another mans mountain. However the hype surrounding The Ferg Burger remains consistent; if you ever visit New Zealand and you do not eat a burger from Ferg Burger then you are nothing. It's a tiny take away restaurant that wouldn't warrant a second glance, if it were not for the hoards of people standing outside.. burgers in hands, smiles on faces. The beautifully crafter burgers are literally the size of my head (not quite Anna's meathead) and they are amazing. I don't usually condone vegeterianism (sorry Scotty x, sorry Joely) however even the vegeterian burgers were amazing. So delicious were they, that the four of us went back three times. Over three days.

It would be unfair to say that the city came alive by night, because it was never exactly dead by day. However, by moonlight the bars throbbed with music and the streets buzzed with people. Our big "Queenstown Night Out" started with drinking games, as always, and ended with a fergburger. Somewhere in between we danced enthusiastically in the street to strange men playing the bongoes. And Anna had a "funny turn", saw a man in shorts and ran rull speed at him screaming "CATCH MEEEEE!"

He did.

Whilst staying in Queenstown we went on a day trip to the Milford Sounds, another reportably unmissable experience. I can understand why the Milford Sounds are rated so highly, we were taken on a boat through a valley surrounded by mountains riddled with waterfalls. The sun bounced off of the water and once again I found myself sitting in a postcard. Despite the picturesque landscape I couldn't help but feel that it was slightly overpriced at $150, especially compared to the sights we got to see for free in the Bay of Islands. However the journey back to Queenstown made the trip worth every penny, as we worked our way back through the mountains it started snowing. Gradually covering the previously sunkissed mountains in a think blanket of snow, with only the most ambitious of trees poking through.

The next day we actually went up in the mountains via cable carts (gondolas) and hurtled back down them on go karts. I spent the whole day telling everyone how I was going to smash them when it came to racing, however for some reason when we got the track my kart didn't want to go, possibly a problem with the breaks.

The problem being that I daren't let go of them!

Anna Lewis Hamilton Kilsby cained us all, to the annoyance of the boys.. who "let her win". Another ferg burger later and it was time to say goodbye to Queenstown. From there we went onto Dunedin where we took advantage of the fact there wasn't much to do (especially when compared to Queenstown) and so we stayed in and watched DVDs with the girls. We've been travelling for just over 4 weeks now and I'm still waiting for the fact that I'm going to be away from home for so long to kick in. Perhaps it wont until I get home.

After discussing this at length with Anna, we have agreed that it would be safe to say... we are officially having the time of our lives.

Free Counter

So Battered Sausage Is Just Like Battered Fish.. But With Sausage. Isn't It?

2008-04-20T18:39:00.000-07:00

15.04.08

Irony at it's finest: the one time that I've got enough time to update my blog is the one time that I have got hardly anything to write about. We arrived by plane to Christchurch, travelled by taxi to our hostel and have been on a bus ever since.

The End.

Well, not quite the end. In between bus stops we're actually allowed to get off the bus. Our first port of call was another little seaside town called Kaikoura.

We got dropped off at a dolphin resort and word on the street was that with this company you actually got to see a dolphin. So, glad to be freed from the confines of the bus we took to the open seas. We squeezed our newly fuller figures (travellers diet, never good) into the wet suits provided and donned the flippers and snorkel provided. And not only did Anna and I get to see one dolphin, we got to see about one hundred. Each. They loved us.

We are currently on a bus (surprise surprise) just leaving Franz Josef. Franz Josef is most famous for its glaciers, however me and Anna decided to be different and thought Ancient Ice Mountains? Nah. We were the only ones that didn't actually step foot on the glaciers. Instead, we decided to go for the cheaper option.. kayaking on a pond. So not only did we miss out on an experience of a life time, we also had sore arms the next day.

The money situation is still appauling. If I go a day without hearing the words "I'm sorry ma'am your card has declined" then... oh I'm not exactly sure who I think I'm kidding with this one, I can't actually remember a day that I haven't heard those awful words. However our "free food" shelves have kept us going and we're genuinely starting to cut down on our outgoings quite dramatically. We don't buy one drink when we go out, pre drinking and free drinks being the way forward. We have cut down on unnecessary activities such as paying 70 dollars to see a big tree in the dark (thank you Anna). And, despite the mocking from fellow travellers, we even went on a FREE walk through a forest the other day.

It could be said that Anna and I are no longer the "flashpackers" that we once were.

Speaking of fellow travellers, we have made friends in abundance. New Zealand is jampacked with backpackers, so everyone is basically thrown into the same cultural pot and left to simmer. Nothing stays the same when you are travelling; something that leaves you feeling ever refreshed yet permenantly unsettled at the same time. A confusing combination at it's worse, however atleast life is never boring. Living such a disposable lifestyle, where every aspect chops and changes more than the seas you swim in, could most certainly never be described as boring; in one blink of a backpackers eye you're exploring different worlds with a different group of people who you know fine well will dispurse in differing amount of time to do different things. It's refreshingly unsettling in the best way possible, however if you let yourself get too caught up in it it can be very sad to see people go.

Bye bye Lizze Fountain and Elinor Daveys.

"Safe travels" from the both of us.

Free Counter

Jesus! How white are your legs? You better get covered up girl.

2008-04-15T23:32:00.000-07:00

12.04.08

I received a text message from my mother this morning that has changed Anna and I's current lifestyle as we know it. In the back of my mind I knew that we were overspending, you only had to look at the eating habits of all the other travellers to figure something wasn't quite right; they were torn between chicken or spicy beef flavoured Supanoodles whereas Anna and I were busy torn between the lasagne or smoked fish at the seafront restaurant. So, needlesss to say, the news that I'm only two weeks into my travels but have already managed to eat my way though half of my New Zealand budget has come as a shock, but a shock that we anticipated sooner or later.

Being the extremists that we are, we have turned to theft.

Don't worry mother, we haven't starting robbing the local "convenience stores" (although that actually would be qutie "convenient". erhem), we've started sneaking into hostels and "borrowing" food from the "free food shelf". This isn't quite as bad as it sounds; all hostels have got a communal kitchen that has a shelf with free food on it. So technically, the food is free and therefore we're not actually pinching. Because it's free. Because there's a sign. That says that it's free. Food = free.

As soon as we clocked how easy it is to just walk into a hostel and blend in as an actual resident... the world, hostel-style, has been our oyster. And we have milked that oyster well and truely! For example, right now we have got a few spare hours before we get a flight down to Christchurch (South Island) and so have snuck into a hostel (not the one where we used to kitchen.. we walked up the road to a different one because this one has got a tv!) and we're just chilling in the communal living room, iPods on charge, checking our facebooks. And no one is none the wiser! It's great. Naughty, but great.

In other non-theft related news, we're flying down to Christchurch tomorrow and we are officially starting out bus tour of New Zealand. Oh how we love buses.

Weather: Perfect
Anna (aka Milk Bottle)'s sun tan status: Almost resembling "normal person colour".
Number of innocent young girls that have had to resort to petty crime to survive: 2

Free Counter

What a nice tree...

2008-04-11T05:32:00.000-07:00

12.04.08

Turns out, people weren't lying when they said about all the backpackers! We've found them and there are tons of 'em!!

I'm attempting to write this on a jerky bus going from Paihia (lovely teeny tiny fishy town way up the top of the island) heading "left" (West) to see a massive tree (Anna's idea).

We stayed at the same hostel in Paihia for three whole nights because we loved it so much. Staying in the same place isn't something that we anticipated doing due to the fact that we've only got four weeks to "do" the whole country however the quaint little seaside town really captured our hearts so we stayed put. (Nothing to do with the fact that we've always been far too hungover during the day to move on.) We've managed to cram alot in the last few days: We went on a supposed "dolphin tour". I say supposed because I've seen more dolphins in Brampton Halt lake; I suppose we should have known when the guide said that the beginning "by the way, you may not actually see any dolphins", that something was a bit "fishy" (haha). But we snorkelled anyway and I truly cannot imagine that a place exists that is more deserving of the description "paradise". My naively put words couldn't even begin to describe how beautiful the Bay of Islands are, we were truly humbled. This is a prime example of pictures not doing a scene justice.. however I think it still looks pretty amazing.

All beauty aside, that night we got very very drunk with our new friends; Anna broke into the hot tub with a group of boys, I danced around a pole and won a prize, we did kara

oke, befriended the locals and managed to get one poor boy awfully intoxicated after he continuously lost playing drinking games. He had been strictly tee-total for five months. Sorry about that.

Yesterday we took a bus up to Cape Rianga and once again slept through the majority of the guides commentery - I am beginning to sense that a pattern is forming. We managed to keep our eyes open long enough to see the legendary 90 mile beach where we reached into the sand and dug out some Tua Tua shell fish... and ate them alive. Nice.

We also sandsurfed down the giant sand dunes. Ofcourse, I was the only one out of our gang to "bail". Anna failed to get a photograph of me being interviewed for television outside Manns Chinese Theatre Show in LA, but for the short time it takes me to fall off of my body board at 100mph she manages to get snap happy. Thank you for that Anna.

So far, Anna and I are not exactly conforming to the typical "traveller" stereotype - my brand new shiny sleeping bag still remains unbagged and has yet to be used, we eat out every night and you should see the looks I get when people see me with rollers in my hair. We spend more time on the internet than with our rucksacks on our backs and I'm still constantly on the phone. It was only when my card declined at the bar last week that the importance of budgetting started to hit home. I don't want to jinx it, but so far, life as a traveller is going quite well.

PS. Anna kissed a 17 year old.

Oh Pants, Stop it.

2008-04-07T22:21:00.000-07:00

Free Counter

04.04.08

I've been trying to write an update for the past ten minutes, however have thus far failed to put pen to paper. Writers block? Surely not already. No, oh how I wish it was. The reason behind my lack of concerntration is due to the fact that as I write this, lying in my hostel bed in New Zealand, less than 5 feet away from me is a short, ginger, little funny looking German man. In his pants.

I am mortified. And I have tears rolling down my face. It's terribly hard to write an update with my face pushed into my pillow (to conceal my distress - Anna, on the bed next to me in hysterics, is not helping matters). I can write no more.

I am scarred for life.

*Continued 05.04.08*

Sorry about that...

We arrived safely in New Zealand a couple of days ago, eager to find all the like minded backpackers that we were promised. Stories from friends back home about all the young travellers who meet up and become instant friends for life, were still fresh in our minds. However the reality has been somewhat of a disappointment. I'm not sure where they are all hiding; so far the only backpacker that I have met is Anna. And she's not even that good. (Joke. She's great.)

Our first hostel was very pleasant and we shared it with "pants" (the German bloke) and another lovely German lady. It wasn't exactly party central so we moved onto a different hostel hoping to make some friends. Once again, no such luck. So desperate are we to "meet a friend for life" that we have done something that I vowed I never would. We have booked ourselves onto the "Kiwi Experience" bus, also known as the "Chlamydia Experience" (sorry mum). For those that don't know, it's a bus that tours the country allowing backpackers to literally jump on and off when they please. Surely we'll meet people? Please! With mine and Anna's luck so far we'll be the only ones on the bus!

On a brighter note, we jumped off of a building yesterday. Not just any building, the Auckland Sky Tower, no less. ("The second highest building in the Southern Hemisphere" for all you fact fans out there!) It was our first bit of "New Zealand Extreme Sporting" and it was great. I'll tell you this for nothing it was blooming high!!

Photos soon!

Number of friends: 0

Number of times Anna has bullied me into jumping off of a building: 1

Have I Got Tree On My Face?

2008-04-01T14:31:00.000-07:00

As much as I'd like to say that me and Anna have avoided being the stereotypical "tourists" in LA... I can't. And as much as I'd like to say that we have explored the streets of LA independently avoiding all the cliched hotspots... I just can't. I can no longer sneer at those wideyed "foreigners" gawping and taking pictures of Big Ben (with Union Jack memorabilia covering 60% of their person) because, and I'm truly embarrassed to admit this, we took a tour. I'm not to cool to say it; we paid a lump sum and we were put on a bus and we were tourists.

And do you know what? It was good.

We boarded our "tour bus" (oh, the shame) at 9:05 and followed the crowds to Universal Studios. Embracing our inner "tourist", we conformed. We took pictures next to anything we'd seen on television (this included men dressed up as cartoon characters - "Dora The Explorer" ofcourse being a favourite) and when riding the rides we screamed when we were supposed to (still screaming the fifth time around, after a leary employee gave us a free VIP guest pass). Then we went on our second tour of the day (at this point, I have no shame) which took us around real life film sets that included War Of The Worlds, The Fast and the Furious and Pretty Woman... We also drove past the Desperate Housewives set whilst filming was in progress. Pow.

From there we left the park and went down the "Universal City Walk" - the highlight being that we got put into a big tank and had a water massage (don't ask) and then was subjected to a number of "tranquility inducing" gadgets whilst wired up to an oxygen tank and drinking chai tea (once again, don't ask).

A few Churros and Cinnabons later and we were back on the tour bus, heading towards downtown LA. The part time tour guide/part time comedian showed us the city by night, throwing "La facts" at us at every corner. We Loved Life.

Sadly, George Clooney was in town doing a premier (whatever) so we weren't allowed to "put our fingers in the imprints at Manns Chinese Theatre Show". But we did go into Hooters, to the distaste of Anna who wouldn't let me buy a t-shirt. Or a badge.

Finally jetlag got the better of us and we fell asleep on the tour bus, awaking only to the shrieks of the tourguide - "England! Are you still with us?"

No America, let us sleep.

Luck Is Not My Middle Name

2008-03-30T16:57:00.000-07:00

My ears aren't doing what they are supposed to (I have been partially deaf since take off), the flight was delayed and then trifled with turbulance, "queue" is a dirty word in LA so trying to get into the country was a messy nightmare and I'm pretty sure I've started comfort eating. Oh, and terminal Five accidently forgot to put our rucksacks onto the plane - so "living with just the clothes on my back" has never been so relevant.

If I was writing this entry lastnight (it is now half five in the morning the next day - we landed at 2:00pm) then I'd have hammed it up (drama queen, me?) and you'd all be grabbing for the Kleenex - however despite the lack of, well, everything really, spirits remain high. BA have assured us that our luggage will be with us in the next couple of days and we're allowed to make some "necessary" purchases and send them the bill. Our hotel is quite nice and we're off to a "mall" courtesy of BA aka the luggage losers. Aside from having a shocker regarding passengers belongings, terminal five at heathrow was quite pleasant. The shops were pretentious and the food was overpriced, however overthing was set off in aesthetically pleasing chrome and I love a bit of chrome. Shilpa Shetti (the actress that got bullied by Jade Goody on Big Brother) must do aswell - oh did I just name drop, what? - because we saw her coming out of Harrods! Whatever.

Weather: Sunny but not massively hot.
Number Of Celebrities: 1
Number Of Luggage Lost: 2 (Actually, BA have reportedly "forgotten" to send 1500 items! You'd think they'd remember.)
Number of "Necessary purchaces courtesy of BA": Watch this space..!

2008-03-30T07:09:00.000-07:00

The thing about me is... I actually WOULD lose my head if it wasn't screwed on. That is no word of a joke, I wish it was - heaven forbid if it ever got "unscrewed"... you'd see my missing meat head rolling all over the place.

To date I've managed to lose pretty much everything of value atleast once - there's the favourites ofcourse.. the keys have just recently celebrated their fifth "lost birthday" (sorry dad) and the iPod and mobile phone are not far behind. And up until recent (Anna (aka travel companion) skip past this line please) the "safe place" where I put my passport had been safely forgotten.

My sense of direction is excellent, on the terms that if I say go one way, you drag us the other.

Despite being a number of times, by people who know me far too well, that it's essential to "pack light"... I'm pretty sure the true reasoning behind this wont hit me until we're on foreign soil, two years worth of "essential" clothing piled upon my back.

To sum up, I'm a disorganised mess.. and I doubt even god knows why Anna has chosen me to go travelling with her.

But she has. And we're really going. In real life. Like, for real.

So, au revoir l'Angleterre!*** and Hello World!

First stop Los Angeles, USA.

Mother I am safe and well, over and out.

x

*** (Erm, we're not actually going to France. That's the only foreign language I know.. and thought I should probably include a little culture. Good.)