It’s been a long time coming.  This end, this final goodbye.  I guess in many ways I’ve been avoiding it.  Do I really want to write an ending to this chapter of my life, to this past year that has opened so many doors and closed so many windows?  These past few months have been difficult enough without having to put a final stop at the end of that sentence.  But I guess I need to man up and do it right?

Now that I’m sitting here though, I really don’t know where to start.  Repeating some advice a friend gave me before I left though seems to be a good start as, in my eyes, it encompasses the essence of my trip:

‘You fall in love everyday when you are travelling.’

This past year as provided me with unforgettable experiences; valuable lessons about life, love and myself; friendships that are forged through the knowledge that others will never understand what we have encountered; and, ultimately, the best year of my life.  I can’t look at my photos without my heart skipping a beat as I think about everything I have been lucky enough to discover.

Africa and New Zealand were the places that I fell head over heals with and that feeling still remains.  I find myself (usually when driving…very safe) drifting off and thinking of the times I spent in both countries.  Something simple can trigger this dream like state, like a song or a crazy road sign.  What was it about these countries that captured me most ardently?  To tell you the truth, if you were to get me started I would probably never stop.  I’ve lost many a friend these past few months with my ‘When I was in Africa/New Zealand..’ way of starting conversations.   I’m now friendless and advertising online:  www.ineedafriend.co.uk.  All offers welcome.  Seriously though,  it is hard for me to find a single reason as to why I fell in love with these places.  There is far too much about them that is a contributing factor that it would be simply impossible for me to narrow it down.   So, I turn to the wisdom of my dear friend Chris, some Chrisdom if you will.

‘I believe every person has a country or a place in the world where their soul is at ease. Many people spend a lifetime looking for it, or even longer protecting it. You are lucky to have found it at such a young age.’

The man makes a good point.

I am lucky to have found these places now as it gives me the opportunity to visit again.  The more I stop and think about my life as it stands right now, the more I begin to realise a few things:

Along with discovering ways to abuse my pay cheque, I also discovered myself.  I used to stifle a laugh when I read or heard about those people who claimed to have ‘found’ themselves on their travels.  I never understood it.  But now I do.  You uncover a part of you; strength of character that you never knew existed.  I found myself dealing with situations I would have previously ran away from;  I braved forms of transport that would (and should!) have been avoided;  I challenged and pushed my boundaries in ways that I thought would kill me but only made me stronger…and slightly more scarred physically.  Yes, I had serious highs and dangerous lows, but I survived.  I returned a stronger person.  Turns out, I am one of ‘those people’ after all.

And finally, I learnt that the word ‘family’ can stretch much further than those associated by blood.  The people I met whilst travelling became my kin.  Whether I met them for a month, a week, a day or an hour, they became a part of me.  I went through so much with my Oasis troop that they will never be forgotten.  How I could I forget the people who nominated me for a numptey every.single.night and convinced me that polar bears migrated to the Ngorangora Crater?!?  I won’t rest until I have redeemed myself…or sought dummy shaped revenge…whichever is easier.  My vote is with revenge.  I think I made too many stupid comments to ever, ever, ever redeem myself.  It something I’ve come to terms with.  I don’t need your pity.

So…that’s me done.  It may not be perfect.  It may not be amazing.  It may not be particularly noteworthy.  But this signifies the end of my year of adventure.  As much as it devastates me to now be a mortal in what can only be described as the real world, I know that this isn’t the end of my trudging.  I still want to move to another country for a while and I am already planning the trips I want to take next.  Life is short and you don’t get a dress rehearsal, I need to make the most of this life while I can.  And I plan to.

But for now, this is the final stop on this journey.

Ko Samui:

From the minute we landed, Thailand began to exceed my expectations.  My friend Jonah had told me Ko Samui airport was worth a few pictures (or at least it would have been in the days when possessing a camera in an airport didn’t brand you a terrorist), so I was expecting a shack.  One man’s shed out of which he flashes a sign saying ‘land here’with an arrow pointing at his man made dirt track.

Instead, we got the cutest purpose built airport.  Wooden, interlinking, open planned cabanas surrounded by palm trees, lush greenary and multiple water features made Ko Samui airport.  Every inch of it, from the trains to the lighting, was adorable.  For sucha tiny island airport as well, it was extremely efficient.  The baggage belt didn’t work though.  Obviously the hamsters who usually powered it were on strike, so it was left to the ground workers to feed the bags through one by one.  Some passengers moved forward to help.  I was embroiled in a fight with a mosquito.  Bastard.

That evening, upon arriving in Chaweng, we met up once again with our male counterparts Adam and Dave, adding yet another country to our every expanding list of dalliances.  True to form, the four of us ended up drinking and dancing until the early hours of the morning.  In a new twist to the tale however, Adam, Dave and I ended up in a ‘hot and spicy’ sauce food fight in McDonalds.  Shameful behaviour I know (not the food fight, but being in McD’s!), but it did pave the way for a quote to end all quotes (at least for that evening anyway!):

Dave: (looking mildly concerned) “A girl is going to think I’m a chicken nugget when she smells my neck.”

Brilliant.  I decided not to remind him that he was in fact only sharing a room with Adam.  But who knows what goes on behind closed doors……

The next morning, after showering off the remaining sauce that was actually burning my body (it’s almost enough to put me off McDonalds), Amy and I head to McDonalds for breakfast (ok…maybe not quite enough!)   I hasten to add that this wasn’t pre-planned.  It genuinely was the only place open.  As we sat down, baffled by the ghost town nature of Chaweng high street, Amy looked at her watch.  It was 7.30am.  We were still on Fiji time, so for us, it was lunch time.

This early wake up was a blessing in a McDonalds flavoured disguise though as it gave us a few extra hours to play beach bums.  A role I am very familiar and comfortable with.  As we soaked up the rays, you couldn’t help but look around at the crystal clear water, whist sand and island hills carpeted with palm trees and think to yourself – I’m in paradise.

Koh Phanagn:

With the ‘not-as-famous-as-a-full-moon-but-still-infamous-half-moon-party’ that evening, Adam, Amy and I hopped, skipped and jumped one island over to Koh Phanagn.  Famous amongst backpackers.  You all know why.

On arrival, it was raining so beach bumming around was unfortunately O.U.T.  Instead, we jumped in the back of a pick up and caught a lift to Haadrin – the beach area made famous by the LSD laced Full Moon Parties.

After an hour of wandering around and taking in the sites of men playing volleyball a la Top Gun, women sunbathing under storm cloud (even I’m not that desperate for a tan!) and a succession of boat taxis, we escaped the rain by dashing into a bar (the rain is my excuse and I’m sticking to it!).    Turns out, we weren’t the only ones with the idea to drink through the pain…sorry, rain, and the bar soon filled up.  Then, before Adam could say ‘I’m Welsh,’a familar theme tune blared out of the TV.  For the next hour and a bit, half the population of Haadrin (the rest were on the beach trying to tan/not get struck by lightning) were entranced by episode after episode of ‘Friends.’ Kinda makes you wonder why you bothered leaving England!  I’d say because of the weather, but that’s a redundant comment after all the rain we’ve had this trip!

Thankfully, the weather cleared up for the Half Moon Party which took place in the middle of the jungle.  Having been body painted and downed a few buckets, we danced danced danced.  Or at least, we tried.  The music wasn’t quite to our tastes – constant trance does wear thin after a while….namely about 2 minutes.  But we had fun, especially Adam who rolled in at about 7.30am the following morning.  Needless to say our 10am breakfast date was canceled.   You can’t rely on the Welsh.  Especially the Welsh that have been drinking buckets.

Ko Tao:

After a day chill-laxing in Haadrin, Amy and I hopped aboard another vessel with the now destination of Ko Tao to catch up with Katie from our Oasis trip.  As we trudged through the streets to find a hostel, we randomly found Katie and immediately set up camp where she was based at Crystal Dive Hostel.  As it was Katie’s 19th birthday, the drinks were in full flow and gossip was the order of the afternoon.  That evening we headed into town to visit Choppers and Lotus bar for a few drinks!  Unfortunately, and rather out of the ordinary, there are no crazy drunken antics that fuelled the night.  It was really was just a chilled few drinks.  Sorry to disappoint.

The following day, after a few chilled hours by the pool, the three of us upped sticks and began our long, boat-bus, 13hour journey to Bangkok.  Sleeping on the deck of a boat (and getting burnt…Katie!) was surprisingly comfortable.  We didn’t make it easy for the people wanting to move around the ship, but we were happy as Larry!  (Who is Larry and why is he so happy?  It’s a baffling expression.)

Bangkok (mark 1):

Having arrived at 3.30am, the three of us were hoping for a bit of a lie in before we arranged to meet Izzy.  Sadly, Izzy was up with the sunrise and desperate to see us.  So we were up and dressed but not really functioning perfectly!

The four of us Oasis survivors headed for breakfast, gossip and then some well earned massages that morning/early afternoon.  Izzy, Katie and I decided on a Oil massage as the thought of being pulled and stretched during a Thai massage seemed a little too energetic for our current state.   The massage was simply amazing though.  The three of us, curtained off because of our lack of attire during said massage, were in muscle relaxing heaven.  It took us a while to get back on our feet and properly dressed afterwards.  Those Thai women do indeed have magic fingers.  Katie is currently working on smuggling one home…fingers crossed.

After we had all composed ourselves, we trekked over to the Golden Mount – a temple you can climb and view out over Bangkok.   One of the things that surprised me upon conquering the Mount, was how enormous Bangkok is as a city.  It stretched on for miles and miles.  Was simply unbelievable and not how I expected Bangkok to be at all!  The four of us also engaged in some good luck bell ringing fun – standard touristy photographs of course.  Well, can you blame us?

Chiang Mai:

After saying goodbye to Izzy and to Katie, Amy and I hopped aboard a plane and flew to Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand.  Being one the places that I was desperate to visit having heard so much about it, I was ridiculously excited and couldn’t wait to take a look around.  Upon landing however, we quickly realised that, due to the mountainous surroundings of Chiang Mai, rain was going to be a popular way of life for the next few days.  Wonderful.

Our first full day say us, and two friends from our hostel (Alex and Anneka), jump in a pick up and begin the journey to Doi Suthep – the mountain temple, and the Winter palace.   It was raining heavily at the base of the mountain, so we could only imagine what it would be like at the top.   Cold and cloudy I guess is the best way to describe it.  Considering that from the top you should be able to see out over Chiang Mai but we couldn’t see beyond a tree 100ft away, I guess that gives you a pretty good idea of what the weather was like.  However, in true Amy and Sarah style, we didn’t let the weather bother us (if we were of that religion, we would have given up a LONG time ago) and enjoyed exploring the grounds of the Winter Palace (lots of hills.  I hate hills) and the gold leafed explosion of Doi Suthep.   Whilst I guess many of the temples seen here in Thailand could be described as gaudy, due to the sheer amount of gold used, they have a beautiful quality about them.  Whether its the peaceful nature of worship that is wrapped up in their wall,  I don’t know.  But you can’t help but be in awe of these temples.  They are unlike anything we have seen and will ever see at home.

That evening, joined by friends from home Charlotte and Jen, we headed out for a spot of market wandering.  Amy and I had already visited the Saturday market and now we were exploring the Sunday market.  Having been told that these markets were remarkably more Thai than tourist, we of course wanted to experience them and make a few purchases!  Bustling isn’t the word I would use to describe these markets.  Rammed.  Yes, that’s a far better word.  But it’s all part of the experience!

The day we were leaving Chiang Mai on a late night flight, the four of us joined a Tribal Tour for the day which allowed us to visit the villages of many of the Thai tribes that live in or around the area of Chiang Mai.  The Long Neck Karens and the Big ears tribe were just two of the ones we visited.  Seeing the lifestyles of these tribes was really something.  I wouldn’t say it necessarily made me feel humble as some of their ‘houses’, namely the leaders, had sky tv, fridges etc.  But it is more that their way of dealing with day to day life is so different to anything we have ever had to experience.  It was an extremely interesting  day.

Bangkok (mark2):

Now I am enjoying the final few days of my time in Thailand and of course, my travels.  The Grand Palace, Wat Pho and Wat Arun were the main sights that we wanted to see in Bangkok.  The palace was really beautiful, lots of gold once again, but shards of glass were also used which gave the impression that the palace was glittering.  At Wat Pho we saw the (enormous!!!) reclining Buddha, the size of which both shocked and impressed us.  Wat Arun or ‘The Temple of the Dawn’ was viewed from across the river whilst we ate lunch.

Yesterday, we headed out on a tour that took us to the Floating Markets (exactly what they sound like), the Bridge over the River Kwae and Tiger Temple.  These were three expeditions that we have wanted to take since we left the UK and our sheer excitement at every aspect that awaited us ran throughout the day like electricty.

The floating markets, whilst still another market, were incredible.  Down all the narrow alleys of these man-made canals are gondola upon gondola of fruits, vegetables, noodles and rice.  All up the sides are stalls decorated with colourful pashminas and shawls, bags and wood work.  You experience the markets best by gondola, which we did, and we even got stuck in a ‘traffic’ jam.  You can definitely spot the tourist attractions in Thailand!

The Bridge over the River Kwae was…I can’t even think of a way to describe the experience.   Standing in a place where so many POW’s died during the Second World War, many at the hands of the Japanese and some at the hands of their own forces, was…I don’t know what.  Heartbreaking.  Humbling.  Emotional.  None of these words can hold a candle to the way it felt to be there, to be standing on the bridge where the POW’s were sent to ‘wave at and stop’ the allied planes as they flew over to destroy the bridge.  This they did in vain and under force from the Japanese.  It was written that the river Kwae ran red with blood for three days.  I’m surprised it wasn’t longer with the amount of men that were killed.  It was a historic moment and one that I will appreciate and remember forever.

Tiger Temple was our final and most anticipated stop.  The monks here, over years, have embraced and raised a variety of orphaned, endangered or injured tigers into their home.  It has been said that the monks possess a soothing power over the tigers, that allows them to roam free through the temples.  Of course, when we were there they weren’t exactly ‘roaming free.’ Due to the sheer amount of tourists and the fact that most tourists are idiots, they were on ‘leashes.’   One by one, tourists were led forward to have their photo taken with the tigers.  I couldn’t wait.  We’d walked with lions, swum with elephants and stalked rhinos.  Now it was our turn to cuddle a tiger.  Although cuddle is probably the wrong word as they are so big.  Their heads are ridiculously heavy and their bodies were longer than mine, but they were adorable.  Getting to cradle a dozing tiger in my lap was definately a once in a lifetime.   Loved it!

Leaving on a jet plane:

Tomorrow night, I begin my journey back to the UK.  After 8 months away I am hesitant as it is a way of life that I have almost forgotten.  But the thought of seeing my friends and family, after such a long time, fills me with excitement.  I feel sorry for the poor sod who has to sit next to me on the plane for 12 hours! God help them.

Apart from being the Malaysian shopping equivalent of New York, Singapore is also exceptionally clean.  I’d say it was the ‘Hilary’ (love you Hil!) of all countries.   It has to be said that, in a place where chewing gum is illegal but Capital punishment isn’t, Amy and I were walking tentatively on egg shells.  We lived in fear of being pulled up for some small infraction on their sparkling city streets.  Luckily, despite a death stare for dripping rain water inside a mall, we left Singapore in one unarrested piece. 

One thing that Singapore has working in its favour though is her train system.  Without it, Amy and I wouldn’t have been able to have seen half as much of the city as we managed.  It’s big and our little legs can only walk so far.  The MRT, as it was called, is a tube like equivalent….except ever so much less worm like.   You aren’t constantly stuck in darkness and the platforms themselves are cavernous and very, very silver.   As well, being the poor, money conscious backpacker that I am, the ticketing system please me endlessly.   Yes, train travel was cheap with some trips costing less than $1.  But, the AMAZING thing was that you got a deposit back should you return your ticket to the machine at the end of your journey.  Bloody brilliant.  Singapore really is the technological superior of any other country when it comes to trains.  

We didn’t just vist Singapore during our 4 day stay.  Oh no, we visited China and even lived in India.  It was a round the world trip in itself.  On a daily basis you could be transported into the midst of smells, sounds and colours that would attack your senses and make you truly believe that you had been swept far away from Singapore.  Chinatown, decked out in traditional Chinese lanterns and various dragon like statues, was bustling with the markets filled to the brim with tourists and locals alike.   Living in Little India meant that each night as we wondered the streets in search of food, our sinuses were filled with the aroma of spice upon spice.  Kampong Glam as well, the Malay quarter or the city, was the only place where you could find a mixture of churches, mosques and temples all on one street.  It truly is a culturally diverse city. 

Our final night in Singapore we ventured out to the ‘plastic fantstic’ island of Sentosa.  A man-made wonderland just a monorail ride away from the city.  With 5* hotels, imported sandy beaches, butterfly farms, restaurants and a soon to be Universal studios theme park, it is a definite tourist attraction.  As the monorail gliding smoothly away from the lives and lights of the city and towards the large, colourful gates of Sentosa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were entering a Disney theme park.   To say Amy and I, Disney fans extraordinaire, were excited would be the understatement of all understatements.  After a spot of dinner and exploration, including a ride up the Carlsberg sky tower to look out over the city and glance over the border into Malaysia, we headed from the ‘Songs of the Sea’ light show.  

Now, I’m as cheesy as they come.  The smellier the better as you really can’t’ beat a bit of cheesy behaviour.  But the actors of this show were over the top, even for me.   It seemed to me when they came bouncing out onto the beach/stage that they were overcompensating for something with their ‘lets wave are arms and hands around as much as possible’ actions.  Turns out that is exactly what they were doing to try and deter people from noticing that they were not only lip syncing the songs, but also the dialogue.   After about 5 minutes of this torture, the real show began and I must admit that I momentarily forgot about the arm waving baffoons.  The light, water and fire displays were so amazing choreographed  with the music and effects were acheived that still baffle me now.  It was a show that could nearly match Disney standards.  Nearly.  My one bit of advice?  Shoot the actors.  In a country where capital punishment is still legal, I can’t imagine it would be too hard to put them out of their misery.  Call it an act of humanity. 

Fiji isn’t what I initially expected. I realise I am geographically challenged (as many people constantly remind me!) but I hastened to add that what I am about to say was echoed by my father! I was under the belief that Fiji was one island, not a collection of them. Imagine my confusion when, in my emotional state due to ‘Traumatic Tuesday’ (as leaving New Zealand day shall from hereon be known), Amy asked me which Island I wanted to go to.

‘I thought we were going to Fiji?’ I replied

‘We’re in Fiji,’ She says, looking at me confused.

‘Then why aren’t we staying? I’ve only just got here!’ I blubbed.

Needless to say, the misunderstanding (or rather my geographical thickness) was put to rights and explained. Yet, it was only when I headed out on the boat that I realised just how many islands there are. It really is surreal. Combine their ‘island’ status with the blue skies, turquoise seas and beaches and you’ve envisioned paradise and consequently Fiji. However, as we discovered not every island can be paradise.

Wednesday morning, Izzy, Amy and I hopped aboard a ship from Nadi to Bounty Island, our island of choice (thanks to a persuasive agent) for the next 6 nights. Being the location of ‘Celebrity Love Island’ (a show that plagued the UK for two full seasons when all contestants should have been shot after one episode), we expected paradise. White beaches. Turquoise sea. Somewhat decent food and accommodation. Did we get that? No. Instead, we were met with a beach decorated by exploding bin bags; a wooden shack as a dining room; a sketchy looking pool complete with ‘Out of Use’ sign; and food that would make even the strongest stomach crawl. Shockingly, we moved on.

Walu Beach was our destination and what a difference a day makes. From the second we stepped onto the island we felt more relaxed. After our confrontation with the staff at Bounty, the receptionist here immediately restored our faith in humanity by upgrading us to a Bure (a private room instead of a Dorm) for no extra cost. The reason? Because Amy made an impression the last time she was here. Without sounding too much like a Colgate advert, you just can’t beat that Canadian smile!

So Walu is where we are and Walu is where we are staying. The weather is, as is typical with Amy and I, hit and miss. We have managed to catch a few rays though which, becoming a pasty whilst serving coffees to businessmen, is music to my (quickly tanning!) ears.

Our girlie holiday is going down a storm (hopefully not a literal one) and I am thoroughly enjoying righting the wrongs of the world with my sister (Amy for those of you who can’t keep up) and Izzy. I can’t say we have been the most sociable of butterflies, but when you’ve got your girls – who cares?

Fiji is a beautiful place, but extremely expensive for what you get. I imagine that had you enough money to stay on a more upmarket island and the right person to share the dazzling sunsets with, Fiji could compete to be one of the most romantic places on earth.

So, why the writer’s block when I am attempting to write about a country that I have fallen in love with? I guess I simply just don’t know where to start. But I’ll try.

New Zealand:

Did I ever think it would be so hard to leave? A loud, resounding ‘NO!’ Yet, it was like leaving home all over again and I must admit I was far from prepared. As my leaving date grew closer, seeing planes and even thinking about Fiji made me feel physically sick. When my gate number came up on the departure board, I swear my heart literally stopped. That day was pretty much spent in tears and by the time I reached the comforting arms of Amy in Nadi, I was emotionally wrecked and exhausted. Pathetic really. (I take this moment to throw an apology into the universe to anyone who was sitting at my departure gate, especially the poor Californian woman who made the mistake of asking me if I was ok. The deep breathe followed by loud, machine gun sobs was enough to make anyone run a mile. I forgive you.)

Now in Fiji, I am slightly less of an emotional retard. I have stopped bursting into tears at every available opportunity. I have even stopped mentioning New Zealand every 10 seconds (granted, it’s now 30 but you have to admit that is progress!). But still my heart aches for it. Having had a few days to sit and ponder, I have realised why leaving Kiwi Island was so different to leaving anywhere else. The reason I hear you ask? Before, when I left Africa and Australia, I was simply leaving countries. I was leaving more than that this time round. This time, I was leaving a life. I was saying goodbye to friends who spent an evening trying to steal my passport so I couldn’t leave. I was saying goodbye to a terrific work family who made me laugh every day. I was saying goodbye to surrogate parents, Rod and Rhonda, who took me into their home without a second thought. I was saying goodbye to Mike who became not only a companion but a best friend. Turns out, leaving a life behind is just as hard the second time round.

Falling in love with the country as much as I have done is something I never expected. If New Zealand were a guy, we’d be hot footing down the aisle right now with a baby on the way. There is something about New Zealand that renders me speechless….and we all know how hard that is to do! I won’t try to explain what that ‘something’ is as truthfully, I’m not entirely sure myself. However, a friend bestowed these words upon me as way of a possible explanation:

‘I believe every person has a country or a place in the world where their soul is at ease. Many people spend a lifetime looking for it, or even longer protecting it. You are lucky to have found it at such a young age.’

(The chronicles of Mr ‘Downtown’ Downey, 2008)

I guess that just says it all really.

Despite living my little ‘Friends’ fantasy (I work in a coffee shop) whilst living here in Auckland (although technically I’m in the country…people laugh when I tell them where I live), I have managed to get out and visit the places on my North Island ‘to do’ list.  Granted, they have been fleeting visits….all in one weekend in fact…but hey, you can’t say I procrastinate! 

Easter Weekend…

…was the date of my speed fuelled mission.  Complete with mattress in the back of the car and personal chauffer (a.k.a Mike, a friend from Africa whose hospitality I have been abusing this past month and a half), we headed off on our little three day adventure!  First stop - Waitomo!

Waitomo…

…is the home of the Glow-worm caves and, more famously, Black Water Rafting.   We demolished both expeditions in one afternoon by combining them on a three hour tour. 

Now, before my parents have a ‘she’d not insured for dangerous black water rafting activities’ heart attack, let me stress that BWR is NOT as dangerous as it sounds.  Disassociate BWR from the images of White Water rafting carnage that you may have seen or experienced.  BWR isn’t so called because the rapids are that much more dangerous, in fact they are rather tame and are hardly rapids at all.  In fact, it is simply because the adventure takes place in the pitch black….in caves….65metres underground…in black tubes…..in black wetsuits…with head lamps. 

These caves were discovered hundreds of thousands of years ago by local Mauri’s.  Deep in these caves run ‘rivers’ of the coldest water I have ever willingly thrown myself into.  Living in these waters under the hills of Waitomo are creatures that even Mike feared….needless to say, putting my face under the water was not an option. 

Once in the caves, we alternated between hiking through the tiny corridors with only trickles of water as our guides, to jumping backwards off waterfalls into our black tubes where we would then paddle (with numb hands!) by the lights of our head torches down stream. 

As we reached a certain, wet, numb part of our tour (after jumping off a particularly high waterfall in the pitch black) we all donned the ‘Eeel’ position (i.e. arms under the armpits of the person in front of you), switched off our headlamps and looked up.  Your first impression was of stars.  You momentarily forgot that you were underground as you became mesmerised by the tiny blue clusters of stars above you.  It was when you’re head hit a rock that you came back to reality – you were underground, in a black tube, in the dark, staring up at glow-worms…not stars.  Whilst it is a magical thought to imagine that these glow-worms are beautiful, shimmering creatures, the reality is much more disgusting.  The ‘glow’ part of such a worm is in fact larvae poo.  Yes, poo.  I think I’ll stick with my disney-esque image thank you very much.  But they were exceptionally cool to gaze at.  It sounds cheesy but they really did light up the chambers ever so slightly and you were simply mesmerised by their blue-ish light.  Incredible. 

After leaving the glowworm chamber and hiking and paddling for a while longer with our head lamps on, our two guides called us to a halt.  ‘Alright guys!’  they said, beaming, ‘We’re going to play a game!’   A hesitant hush fell over the group….what kind of game could you play underground, on a river, in a black tube.  Why, find your way out of the cave in the dark of course!   We thougth they were joking.  They weren’t.  Needless to say I was fairly bumped and bruised when we finally found the light that signal an exit from the cave that had been our home for the past three hours.  But was it fun?  Definately – where else can you spend three cramped hours underground?  Oh yeah….London!  

Rotorua….

…was our next desitination.  Along the way we stopped at the Prawn farm (where we demolished 1kg of Prawns and played Prawn golf) and the Craters of the Moon (huge smoking thermal craters), but these were mere ticky tours….Rotorua was our goal. 

We of course made it, despite Mike’s typical male navigational skills, and the first thing that hit us?  The smell.  The sulphur smell enters every part of you within 10 seconds.  Rotten eggs.  Lovely.  Here we joined a Kiwi encounter as I still, despite being here for 2 months, had yet to see an actual kiwi!  As it turned out, we joined the last tour of the day which meant we got to watch the kiwi’s being put to bed.  But before that, we learnt a lot about then in the other aspects of the tour.  For example, did you know that the Kiwi is one of the most viscious birds alive?  That their wings are only the size of our little fingers?  That they can grow to the size of turkeys?  That the are closer to mammals than birds because, unlike birds, their bones aren’t filled with air sacs?  Or that, the size of a kiwi egg compared to the female kiwi’s body is the same as a human woman giving birth to a 35lb baby?  Needless to say all women winced when that fact was announced.  Men being rubbish simply looked blank.  Bastards.   

We spent some time in the area where all the eggs are incubated and learnt a bit about a Kiwi egg.  They are the same density as Ostrich or Emu eggs i.e. if you were to stand on them they wouldn’t break.  One thing the kiwi females have right however is that, once the egg is laid, it is the males who then sit on the egg for 90days until it hatches.  Granted, this is because the female has just had a 35lb baby crushing her organs and restricting her stomach for the past 13 days and if she didn’t eat she’d die, but still….the men nurturing the egg until it hatches?  Kiwi females are smart! 

Luckily, we were able to witness one of the eggs begin to hatch.  A beak had poked through the air sac inside the egg and begun to slowly break the shell.  It was going to be a slow process so we were unable to watch it hatch completely, but we were able to witness something amazing.  To check the progression of the young kiwi chick within the egg, its father (and now the experts nurturing them) would whistle.  They would whistle at the egg, which an expert did for us, and the egg would either be heard to whistle back or simply shake.  We got to experience both of these and it was simply amazing, surreal but amazing.  Who’d have ever thought I’d hear an egg whistle? 

Putting the Kiwi’s to bed was worth the price in itself as it meant that we got to have a good look at them.  As they are nocturnal animals, it is obviously hard to see their colours and features clearly in the nocturnal house because…well….it’s dark!  To put them to bed, the guides simply need to turn on the lights.  A backwards philosophy I know but it works!  For the few minutes that the lights were on we got to truly see the shades of their feathers, their long beaks with their nostrils at the end of their beaks, their claws and their midget wings.  They are the weirdest birds I have ever seen, but by far one of the coolest.  

Taupo…

…was our Easter Monday destination.  Here we met up with Amy and Lofty as it was Amy’s birthday!!!!!!!   As previously planned, oh about 12 months ago, Amy and I were to go skydiving.   I coudln’t wait.  AFter the experience in Africa I simply could not wait to throw myself out of a plane again.  Except this time, I would be doing it from not 10, not 12, not 14 but 15,000ft!  Wow!  Was a crazy?  Probably.  Did I care?  No! 

 It was simply amazing.  The freefall was just short of a minute and is by far my favourite part of the dive.  I loved it.  The 5minutes I spent after the chute went were peaceful and I got to really experience the beauty of New Zealand.  I swear, you could even see the curve of the earth and I have (very unattractive!) photos to prove it.  I loved every second of it and have definately become addicted to skydiving.  I bet my parents are thrilled!  

So…that was my Easter weekend.  Of all the things to do on the North Island, those were what I really wanted to do and I’ve done it.  I know that I can now leave New Zealand satisfied.  I’ve experienced everything that I came here to experience and you know what?  It’s made me love this country even more.   I’ll be sad to leave a place that I have come to consider a home.   I’ll definately return….it’s only when that is the question. 

So, as it turns out, the people/aliens/midgets (delete as appropriate belief) who ‘built’ Stonge Henge have been at work in New Zealand….except this time with boulders!  On a beach in Moeraki some years ago, someone or something, randomly placed a series of large black boulders.  They have become infamous as no one knows, much like Stone Henge, how they got there.  The boulders were surprisingly entertaining when we visited them, if only for the fact that as the tide was pretty much in we, and a number of other tourists, spent a significant amount of time dodging the waves in an attempt to get photos.  We even witnessed a mother and baby get stranded on a boulder where they were posing when a rather large wave surrounded them.  The husband was a lot of help.  He just laughed.  The smell surrounding the boulders was near on repulsive….it smelled of dead fish.  I understand that it was the mountains of seaweed that had encroached on the beach, but those of you who know my aversion to fish (except of course those of the living variety…especially my goldfish) will understand why I felt the constant need to cover my nose.  It was putrid and I’m not entirely sure the banter with the boulders was altogether worth it. 

Elephant Rocks: 

Visiting a film set however made our excursion on the vile smelling beach vanish from my memory and nostrils.  It is official – Amy and I found Narnia.  We didn’t even have to walk through a closet to get there, which I must say mildly depressed me as I spent half my childhood in the back of my closet determined to find a way through.  Turns out, its just the bathroom on the other side of mine.  Anyhoo…the Elephant Rocks was the location for the final battle scene in ‘The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe’ movie.  Apparently random rock formations were popular visiting sites that day.  They were great fun though.  Amy and I had a tremendous time climbing rocks and pretending to be Aslan.  Sad?  Probably.  It was all in the name of photography though. 

Mount Cook Region:

The following day we hopped, skipped and jumped up to the Mount Cook Region, home of….well….Mount Cook a.k.a the most dangerous mountain in existance apparently.  We visited the Sir Edmund Hilary centre and even managed to meet the man himself!  He wasn’t particularly chatty though….a bit stony really……..ok, bad joke.  I apologise.  Let’s move on.   After a spot of lunch, Amy and I put on our tramping shoes and tramped our way towards the base of Mount Sefton.  With the snow capped mountains in constant view, I have to say that tramping in the severe heat as we were was baffling but we coped…its better than rain after all!  Once Mount Sefton was reached, we basked in the sun and the views of Mount Cook.  It was beautiful, if a little scary looking, and I was glad that we made the time to go see it.  I don’t think a visit to the South Island would have been complete without witnessing the famous mountain. 

Lake Tekapo:

In the middle of no where, we were in Lake Tekapo for one reason and one reason only – Star Gazing!   Having witnessed a surplus amount of starry starry skies in Africa, both of us were extremely excited about finally seeing the crystaly like blobs close up and, more importantly, the Southern Cross.  All the way through Africa Amy had been rising at 3am to try and see it, sadly she failed every time.  I was the clever one…I stayed in bed.  Sadly though, the Southern Cross will continue to remain a mystery as severe wind ensured our late night soire was cancelled.  Rubbish. 

River Wild:

Once back in Queenstown, Amy and I rose early and headed up to Glenorchy to go horse-riding.  River Wild was the name of our trek and we were assured to get wet as well as see some amazing views.  Mounting my horse Doobie, I knew he was a plodder.  I was proved right.   It didn’t ruin the ride though, especially as 5 out of the 13 of us were taken off into the experienced group so we could canter to our hearts content.  Turns out, when cantering is involved Doobie plods no more.  We had a great ride, barring a few hairy moments and a horse that is scared of…well…everything.  A wonderful way to see New Zealand…although the pain the following day suggested that a car is the comfier version. 

Dunedin:

The countdown has begun to my working days and I can’t say I’m too excited.  Tomorrow I fly to Auckland, which in itself is very exciting as I have heard a lot about the city and its surrounding attractions.  But I think I have seriously forgotten how to work…5 months as a lady of leisure will do that to you.  Dunedin itself is nice.  I can’t think of any more exciting words to describe it.  It’s very much a small city with shops and cinemas and supermarkets.  Nothing fancy.  We visited Cadbury’s world and the Otago Museum which was pretty cool (I became a bit of a Classics geek again when I discovered a section dedicated to Greek and Roman art and architecture.  I won’t bore you but it was amazing!).  The Otago Peninsula was a nice, if a bit windy, drive and it culminated in us seeing an albatross!  They are huge!  But generally, Dunedin is my holding point until I board that flight to Auckland.  I can’t promise my blogs will be that regular or that exciting over the next month….but keep updated, you never know! 

The sky was cloudless and bluer that I have ever see it.  The sun was shimmering across the crystal clear water and we were on a boat filled with couples.  Did we miss the sign for ‘Romantic Cruise – 3.45pm?’  Apparently so.  Surrounding us were the mountains upon mountains (some snow, some tree covered) that made up Milford Sound.  I swear, it may have been on of the first times in my life that I have been completely silent for more than 5 minutes.  Shocking, I know, but apparently mountains can do that to you….or it was Amy gently caressing my hand with a twinkle in her eyes that dumbed me to silence…..I’m not entirely sure……

Milford Sound really was amazing though.  Photos and my descriptionis really will never do it justice.  All around us was natural beauty.  We were fortunate enough as well to stumble across a small seal colony and some souther hemisphere bottle-nose dolphins.  We searched for Whales but no such luck.  We did stand underneath a 155m waterfall though.  Cold and a tad wet.   Go figure. 

I honestlyt hough, I don’t think I have ever been in a place that was so beautiful, so tranquil and so romantic (yes…Amy still had that sparkle in her eye.  I was slightly afraid.)  It would be the perfect place to propose to someone – call it the romantic in me.  (Amy, I am giving you NO ideas.  I said no and, you know what, I mean no.) 

It has occurred to me thought hat so far everything I have donei n New Zealand has been amazing or beautiful or heart-stopping.  I think the fact that I am lost for words only serves to prove one thing – I am in love with New Zealand.  Awesome. 

Minus Keanu Reeves, Sandra Bullock and the subequent love story, we starred in our very own Speed movie in Queenstown.  Instead of a bus however, we had a jet boat.  Instead of explosives strapped to us, we had our driver, Shane. 

The Shotover Jet, as it was called, was a must do in Queenstown.  The jet itself can shoot across 10cm of water at over 80km an hour – what a show off hey!  We were warned about the heart stopping race through the Shotover Canyon, but nothing prepared us.  Nothing. 

Dressed in what I can only describe as cloaks stolen from a hairdressers and lifejackets, we board the boat.  Some of us were shaking (not amy and I), some of us were jumping with excitment (guess who!).

We zipped.  We zapped.  We pulled 360′s.  We sped so dangerously close to the canyon walls and river rocks that I think a few passengers added a few rocks of their own.  Curde.  Possibly a bit grosse.  But true.  It was awesome.  Shame about the lack of Keanu Reeves though….and Sandra Bullock for that matter.

 Queenstown:

As a town it was tres cute.  Every inch the sweet alpine village…just without the snow at this time of year.  Set at the foot of some snowless mountains and aside a vast lake, it is really was a beautiful town to spend time in.  A tranquil skiing paradise I imagine at times.  A backpackers mothership at others.  Like Sydney.  God I hate backpackers.  I know I am one, but I still hate them.   Backpackers seem intent on getting permanently pissed at night and then spending their days holed up in their hostel room ‘dying.’  Is that traveling? 

Yes, Amy and I did succumb to a few drinks….call us sheep.  We got drunk.  In fact, very drunk one night.  I vaguely remember falling down a hole….but I digress.   Queenstown didn’t really hold much for Amy and I, mainly because most backpackers, drunk or not, flock to this South Island mothership to emerse themselves in adrenalin activities:

• skydiving
• bungy jumping
• gorge swings

Now….haven’t Amy and I already done these?  I feel a ‘When we were in Africa…’ escaping my lips again! 

Lord of the Bo-Rings:

New Zealand is Hobbit country.  So, traveling with Amy ‘I wish I were a Hobbit’ McCulloch meant I was bound to get suckered into a Lord of the Rings road trip.  This came in Queenstown. 

Happily playing driver for the day and with Amy clasping her (signed!) location guidebook, we hit the road for our own Hobbit-esque adventure.  Except, unlike Frodo and his merry men, we were in search of locations not a place to destroy a frankly very evil ring, but we channeled the Hobbits talents at finding places without getting lost.  We were hopeful. Turns out, we would never make good Hobbits. 

New Zealand has obviously clued into its LOTR popularity (the locations are on the road maps for god’s sake!) and has begun charging for entry into these previously public places.  Cheeky monkeys!  And, for those that were free, you were required to be driving a 4WD…which Sunny is not.  Poor guy is still holding a grudge as only a Nissan can.  So, all in all, it was a pretty uneventful road trip.  Stupid hobbits make it look so easy. 

Later on however, we had a stroke of luck and managed to see all the locations from the ‘Fellowship of the Ring’ movie.  Watching the DVD isn’t cheating?  Is it? 

 Obviously I’m joking…maybe….but I do count hiking fr 5 hours up the glacier as one of my greatest accomplishments to date.  Ok, Ok, so this may be somewhat of an exaggeration.  Sure, it’s not exactly a cure for cancer or stupidity.  And yes, I’ve jumped off 100ft gorges and out of planes.  Heck, I’ve even trusted a kiwi to drive me the whole way through Africa.  But this was a hill.  I don’t like hills.  An it wasn’t just any hill, it was a very slippery one.  But I’m British, therefore I’m brave.  We laugh in the face of danger and hills.  After tackling the underground at rush hour and Wimbledon during the tennis, anything is achievable. 

Decked out in enough gear to get me through a severe thunderstorm (trust me, I found this out!) and mittens (an item of clothing that never fails to make me feel 5 years old), and after a 2 click walk through a river, we stood at the base of the Franz Josef Glacier.   Dum Dum DUUUM!  

After putting on my clampons (spikes for those of you without the lingo), I stared up at the wall of ice ahead of me, mesmerised.  It wasn’t just the shimmering bluey-white ice or natural (little) waterfalls cutting shapes through the ice that captivated me.  Instead, it was the sheer mountain of ice hiding in the depths of a rain-forest that did it.  How very, very random.  In rain-forest, what do you expect to find?  Tropical animals.  Lush green trees.  Array of birds.  Not giant mounds of ice.  Yet, here I was standing in front of one ready to climb.  Bring it on! 

Up the ‘naturally’ (hmm…) formed ice steps we clambered, occasionally stopping to allow our guide, Greg, to beat a path with his ice pick.  It was at this moment that I giggled.  My glacier buddy, Rich, (a friendship so formed as we were the only people still in the spring of youth!) gave me a questioning look. 

“Ever played Lemmings?” I asked. 

Slowly, he nodded his head, a knowing smile beginning to form. 

“Doesn’t this single file marching following a path created by an ice pick so that you don’t die remind you of the game?”

He joined me in the chuckling.  Those of you who have played the game will understand. 

As we trudged higher and higher, further and further up the glacier, a new world began to surround us.  Gone was the kiwi land with its road blocking sheep, tree blanketed mountains and horrific ‘you’re going to die’ road signs.  We were now trespassing in a world fit for a Snow Queen.  Very grand.  Very white.  Very cold.  Very Narnia.  We walked, lemming style naturally, through caverns and corridors of ice; over mounds and under bridges.  All ice.  all very impressing.   At times you could see, hear and fell the rushing water moving beneath your feet.  I resisted the urge to shout, “Hey!  Look!  I”m walking on water!”  Very bad joke and I’m glad I avoided it.  

It was after about 2 hours on the ice that the steady droplets of rain became heavier.  Thunder and lightening clapped above our heads but still we kept moving.  Upon our descent, lead Lemming perhaps realised his mistake.  The glacier, under the rainfall, had become one big giant waterfall.  A waterfall that we now had to climb down.  Where was my stunt double when I needed her? 

So the dangerous descent began.  Slowly, carefully and singing ‘The Sun will come out tomorrow’ (at least I was!), we following lead Lemming.  Progress was impressive until a Lemming stepped off the path and fell down a hole.  The man became a human plug.  Thankfully, despite the screaming from wifey that suggested otherwise, he was fine.  A couple of cuts on his knees and shins, but otherwise stupid Lemming was suffering from just bruised pride.   A shining example of older not necessarily being wiser. 

Once we reached the bottom, after putting blind faith in the fact that whilst we couldn’t see the steps under the rushing water  they ‘might still be there’ (direct quote for lead Lemming), we began over 2 click trek back to the car park.  It was a walk made sufficiently harder due tot he sheer violence of the once placid river, but we survived to tell the tale.  Even stupid Lemming managed to stay in touch. 

I now return to where I started….I could climb Everest.  Just watch this space.