Home

It's now been just over three weeks since I got home and, well, in lots of ways it's great. On Christmas morning, just over 12 hours after getting back from the airport, my mom, Broseph and myself set off for New Hampshire to celebrate the day at my sister Miranda's house where she lives with her boyfriend Abe. The plan was for me to sleep during the four-hour plus drive, but It just wouldn't come! By the time we arrived I was therefore fairly delirious, and by the time all Abe's family showed up for Christmas dinner I was positively unravelled! I managed to stay awake for the important bits though and was able to speak fairly lucidly as lots of people had questions for me about my journey. You know when you're quite drunk, and are aware of it, but can carry on a conversation and other people probably wouldn't know you were so hammered? That's what it felt like for me! I didn't touch a DROP that day, as it would have sent me into a coma, but the floaty, exhausted feeling I had can be most likened to intense tipsiness! Still, it was a fantastic day, and I'm glad I never gave any real thought (as all backpackers do) to extending my trip, as there's no way I would have wanted to miss it. We hung around there for the next couple days, as Miranda's birthday is Boxing Day, so there was more to celebrate!





We made it back to Connecticut in one piece, despite having to travel through the first big snowstorm of the season. It took me and Abe an hour to dig out the cars and driveway so that we could actually leave! Once home, more shenanigans were underway- a day out in NYC with my mom to check out her sweet new apartment there, unpacking, catching up with friends and my dad, visits from San Francisco friends for New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, drinks in NYC, a broadway show in NYC....I barely had time to catch a breath until the second week of January.

I have to say that it IS really nice to be in one spot for any length of time! All that packing up and moving on every three to six days or so was utterly exhausting, and I didn't really realize it at the time. It's also nice to have a bit more structure to my days- something I learned about myself (one of many things!) is that I do actually enjoy having some semblance of a routine. Although exciting in its own way, it can be hard to plan your days around...nothing. Then again it leaves you available for any sort of adventure that might pop up so, hey, pros and cons. These days I'm spending my time catching up with friends and my parents, working on my resume, babysitting and GOING TO THE GYM. Oh yes folks, it wasn't so much travel chubbiness as total travel overload! My skinny jeans (and other miniature clothes. Where did I shop? Baby Gap?) hang there forlornly in the closet, waiting to be worn. Not long now, jeansies, I'm working on it!

I'm also able to take time to really process everything I went through, saw, felt and learned. The whole thing feels like some crazy dream at the moment! I'll soon be going through all the photos and will start putting them up (I know I know!), so that will help, and I've been keeping in good touch with my travel buddies, and to be honest it's the people that make it more real than anything. It was great to hang out with Broseph over the holidays and laugh about all the crazy stuff that happened that one just had to BE there for!

Anyway, for now, I'm here in snowy Darien, Connecticut slowly floating back down to Earth and ruminating on all my options. I feel VERY lucky- I've seen so many places that I could consider as potential new homes, and my dual citizenship really does mean that the world is my oyster. It is overwhelming in its own way though- sort of like being in the 'salad dressing aisle of life'. Balsamic Vinaigrette? Low Fat? Low Sodium? Or should I just get Ranch? I DO always like Thousand Island...

I'll continue to document my musings as I figure this all out. In upcoming posts I'll also write about why India was my favorite place, awesome things I learned about Susie and totally rubbish things I learned about Susie, more travel by the numbers, how much the backpack actually screwed up my back and how much eyeliner I decided to take in the end. And if it was enough.

Kia Ora Aotearoa*: Vol. 2

The morning after my nice afternoon in Christchurch, I got up at 6:30 to drag myself and the backpack to the bus stop for 7:15am. Groan. I arrived in Queenstown at about 2, and while trying to figure out the way to the hostel, I met Grace from England. We found the place, and once settled made a plan to grab a drink in the evening, as we both had some errands to do.

Queenstown is absolutely beautiful! It's set on Lake Wakatipu with gorgeous mountain views as a backdrop. After some Internetting and some dinner, I went to sit by the lake and read as the sun started to go down. Amazing. At about 8 o'clock I strolled back to the hostel to meet up with Grace. Our hostel gave us a coupon for two for one drinks at a local joint called Buffalo Bar, so we rolled back into town and grabbed a couple of glasses of wine. After about an hour of chatting, we learned the other reason Buffalo Bar is popular with backpackers (particularly of the male persuasion). Girls. Dancing. Everywhere. In Hooters-inspired attire. They were on every available surface, and ironically Grace and mine's conversation on the topic of feminism was all but completely interrupted when a hot pants-clad girl jumped onto our table, almost kicked our wine over and wiggled her bottom at us. Ah, yes, thanks. Goodbye.

The next morning, after a trip to the Internet cafe and the supermarket, I was feeling outdoorsy thanks to the stunning scenery, so I took myself on a walk/hike around the lake. Though it was drizzling a bit (shocker), it was a lovely trail and I walked for about two hours, getting me back just in time for another carol service at a local church- more progression in my mission to get into the Christmas spirit! Although a lovely service, it didn't help my mission that it was outside, on blankets, in the evening sun. "Are you on holiday," asked a local lady. "Ah, yes, I'm backpacking," I said. "I'm going home next week." "And where's home?" said she. "The New York City area- it'll be cold there! It's crazy that you guys do Christmas in summer." She laughed, "People from the Northern hemisphere always say that!" People from the what? I mean, I think of people as being from different countries, continents even, but never from another hemisphere! "Oh, those Northern hemisphereans, always causing trouble!" I don't know.

After the carol service I made some supper at the hostel and Grace came back from her day out at Milford Sound. Then together we went down to the lake with a cheap bottle of wine (Fat Bird- brilliant!) to meet up with friends I'd made on Fraser Island in Australia- the three lovely Dutch boys who'd taught us the 'Box Game': Roy, Roy and Ruud. We had a lovely time catching up, and it wasn't long after we'd replenished our beer and wine supply that the Queenstown police force paid us a visit. THIS is when I learned one cannot imbibe outdoors in NZ. Luckily a swift cover-up with a sweatshirt saved the Fat Bird, and the kindly officers went on their way. I felt 17 again, eluding the Darien PD. NOT that a drop of that sort of stuff ever crossed my lips before I turned 21. Ahem.

The next day Grace and I paid a visit to the Botanical Gardens, followed by lunch by the lake listening to some awesome live music and a stroll around a craft fair. In the evening we snagged another bottle of Fat Bird and went lakeside again, this time keeping the Bird concealed a bit better! After that, we went to a couple of bars as Grace had some coupons for cheap beverages and ended up dancing our faces off at a fine establishment called "The World Bar." Top night out.

The following day was my last in Queenstown, as I was to spend the next four of my last five nights with a Kiwi family friend, Kelly. When I was growing up in London, we had a nanny from New Zealand for about two years. Her name was Georgina, and I was about eight when she joined our family. George and Kelly are identical twins, and Kelly was also a nanny in England at the time, so I got to know her pretty well also. George is a teacher in Poland, and wasn't going to be home for the holidays, but Kelly lives in Invercargill and drove the two hours to Queenstown to pick me up. It had been 17 years since we'd seen one another, and both decided the other looked mostly the same! From Queenstown we went to see the old gold-mining town of Arrowtown and the remains of the Chinese settlement. Many Chinese came over in the 1800s to the gold mines and it was interesting to see how they lived. Kelly is a teacher as well, and often brings her students to Arrowtown, so she told me a lot of historical tidbits too.

After that we drove two or three hours down to Bluff, basically the most Southern point in NZ. From there, you're only 4800km from the South Pole! It was a bit windy and chilly, and Kelly's brother Phil wasn't around as she'd hoped, so after taking a picture to prove I'd been there we set off for Kelly's house in Invercargill. I cooked some dinner to thank Kelly for driving me all over creation (and there was much more to come), and afterwards George called from Poland and I was able to catch up with her for while which was excellent.

The next morning after breakfast we went to the Invercargill museum to see the tuatara. They're basically lizards, but they're amazing because they live for a hundred years or more, and are the closest things to dinosaurs still alive today as they've barely evolved. The 111-year-old tuatara Henry recently mated (perhaps for the first time! Oldest virgin ever for sure!) with spring chicken Mildred (only 80) and they had 11 baby tuatara who are so cute! They don't move much, the tuatara, or even really come out in the daytime, but Henry did make an appearance and they were a treat to see.

After that we went into town to pick up a few DVDs to watch at Kelly's brother's beach house later on, grabbed a coffee at the world's most Southern Starbucks (I'm generally anti the 'bucks- overpriced!- but this time the novelty overrode that!) and then began the third (and last- yay!) medical saga of my journey.

Sometime during my travels in Southeast Asia, I got two bites on the inside of my right forearm that were definitely NOT mosquito bites (I'm an expert in that department, let me tell you). They itched like nothing I'd ever known, and though I did my best not to scratch and put the itch stuff on, I would wake up in the night tearing at my skin. Soon enough, they turned into a right mess (I'll spare you the details) but what bothered me was that they appeared to be, well, moving. In a squiggly line, along my arm. I didn't like it. I showed them to Kelly and she decided we'd better stop by a pharmacy. So we did that, and they suggested going to the hospital. Thinking that this would be cheap (as NZ has a national health system, plus I could probably claim any costs back on travel insurance and once home I wouldn't be covered for this sort of thing), we went to the emergency room. "Oh, sure, we can see you," said the lady at the desk, "It'll be NZD$780 (USD$590)." Um, what? No, I don't think so. I wasn't dying (that I was aware of). They suggested an after hours clinic that might be cheaper, so we took the number and decided to check that out later on.

From the hospital, we set off for the beach house in Riverton. It was beautiful, right by the water which was a most shocking blue. We spent the afternoon watching two great Kiwi movies- The World's Fastest Indian, which starts Anthony Hopkins and the story basically put Invercargill on the map, and Boy, a very funny, smart new movie about a Maori boy growing up in the 1980s. I highly recommend both.

In the evening we had a lovely dinner at a local restaurant, The Beach House, and then went back to Invercargill to find this after-hours clinic. It was a no-go. For whatever reason, it wasn't open so we called the number and they suggested ANOTHER doctor to try in the morning. OK then, back to Riverton. We spent the rest of the evening watching a movie about the Topp Twins, who are Kiwi institution. They're a comedy act comprising lesbian yodeling twins. Trust me, they rock.

In the morning we tried the last doctor, but he sounded about 900-years-old and by that point I figured I'd probably live, plus I think I'd scared the bites into submission as they were looking a bit better. After breakfast, we headed over to Kelly's parents' house- Mr. and Mrs, or John and Lindy, Dobson. This was very exciting for me, as when George took care of us, we heard a lot about 'mum, dad and the farm'. Kelly took me for a drive around the farm- I even drove a little Rhino 4x4 ATV thing. It was INCREDIBLY windy that day, so much so that many homes in the region lost power, including the Dobsons. No problem, we spent the afternoon reading books and generally relaxing, and then at about 4 set off for the main event- Susie Hughes was going to milk a cow!

Overalls and wellies secured, we headed over to the, um, milkery? I actually don't know what it's called. Now, I'd love to tell you that I went all Little Bo Peep style or something: sitting on a three-legged stool with a bonnet on, milking Bessie by hand into wooden pails which I then carried across my shoulders to the barn so I could churn the milk into butter. Alas not. My task instead, given that cow milking technology has advanced so much, was to attach the four suction cups to the udders of one of the hundreds of cows. I was a bit nervous for two reasons: first, I was standing right under the cow's, ahem, back door and secondly, if she didn't like my technique she'd kick me. Eek! Luckily, it went off without a hitch, and for all intents and purposes, yours truly has milked a cow!

Back at the Dobsons' that evening, Mrs. D cooked us a lovely steak dinner, the power came back on and we relaxed in front of the telly until it was time for bed, as we were getting up early the next day for a visit to Milford Sound. It had been touch and go as to whether we'd even make it, as the main road had been closed the day before due to a landslide following all the wind and rain. Lucky for us, that had been cleared up, and Kelly, Sarah (the Dobsons' exchange student from Montana) and I set off for the four-hour or so drive. As it happened, we made great time and got to Milford early and got the next ferry going. Now, Milford Sound is famous worldwide for its absolutely stunningly breathtaking natural beauty. I'm sure this is the case, but I can't say for sure because, in true Susie style, drum roll please, IT WAS POURING WITH RAIN! The cruise was still a good time, however, and there was a certain romantic, melancholy beauty to the scenery with the fog shrouding the peaks and the waterfalls cascading- by the hundreds- down the mountains. It was MY Milford Sound experience, and I was happy with it and very grateful to Kelly for taking us.

That evening was my last with Kelly. Tired after our day out, we grabbed some pizza and back at her house, I performed the Great Backpack Evisceration of 2010. I discarded old clothes, no longer needed toiletries, grody socks and undies, torn up flip flops- you get the idea. By the time I was done, I'd got rid of about 17lbs of stuff. Excellent- why couldn't I have done that before, before the backpack wreaked so much havoc on my back that I'm destined to look like a hobbit before 30?!

The next day I was due to fly back to Auckland, so in the morning before going to the airport Kelly took me to the very pretty Queen's Park, and then we did some window shopping around town. Upon arrival at Invercargill domestic airport, I went to check in and was told that no ID was necessary, just my name, please. Oh, ok. Boarding pass in hand I readied my handbag for security, only to learn that there is none. NONE. NO security. No metal detector, no x-ray machine, not even a vague body frisk. I mean, there was no security in Madagascar either, but at least the metal detector was there, unplugged in a corner. Someone had at least had the right idea at some point! "But what if I had a gun in my bag?" I asked Kelly. "We trust people here," said she. Well, ok then. Loved the sentiment, hoped that no-one did indeed have a gun upon his person.

I was sad to say goodbye to Kelly, it had been a FABULOUS four days and a totally brilliant way to wind down my trip. I had a long journey back to Auckland via Christchurch where I had a four-hour layover. I thought about going to check out more of the city given that my time there before had been so short, but that involved spending money, and THAT I was not prepared to do! I arrived in Auckland at about 9pm and was at my hostel (where I'd stayed before) by 10. I went for a mosey around and some dinner as it was still quite light out. That's really the reason Kiwis don't go in for massive holiday decorations. What's the point of millions of lights if you can't put them on until 10:30 at night?

And, so, that was the last night of the whole adventure. After a sandwich and a bag of Maltesers (naughty I know, but it was the finale!), I was in bed by midnight. Perhaps it was a bit anti-climactic, but I was probably better off than if I'd gone out partying or something, given that I had a VERY long journey ahead of me the following day, Christmas Eve.

I woke up mid-morning and checked out of the hostel. I went for a walkabout, picking up some last minute gifts and souvenirs for fun and looking around a discount bookstore. Before long it was time to grab my bag and head back to Auckland airport, from whence I departed the 'Land of the Long White Cloud' bound for New York via Los Angeles- Haere Ra Aotearoa**, good times. Luckily, my Qantas flight wasn't full and I snagged two seats for myself. I couldn't sleep though because we departed at 4pm, and though technically flying overnight once we crossed the International Date Line, I just couldn't do it. I arrived in LA at 6:30 in the morning, on the same day, and therefore began Christmas Eve once again! Once through customs (a breeze! The guy didn't even look at all the bizarre stamps in there!), I reclaimed my bag, rechecked my bag, and got right back on the same plane I'd just gotten off. Against what I considered to be all odds, I arrived at JFK only 30 minutes late and it wasn't long before I was on the road back to Connecticut with my dad and brother who had kindly sacrificed part of Christmas Eve to come and get me! Thanks fellas!

And it was over. I was home safe and sound. I SHOULD have gone straight to bed when I got home, but I couldn't let the Epic Voyage end like that, so I cracked a bottle of wine, invited my good friend Matt over to booze with me and tipsily wrapped my Christmas presents while we hung out with my mom.

The days since I've returned have been a whirlwind- I'm still not totally back down to earth, I don't think. The blog isn't going to end though folks, don't you worry about that! I've convinced myself that you must be on the edge of your seat, waiting to find out how I feel now that I'm home, what I've learned and what I'm going to do next. Even if that's not true, I'm going to keep writing, because I really love doing it.

Until then (and it won't be long), THANK YOU, ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, old friends, new friends and family, for accompanying me on my Epic Voyage. It was a pleasure to have you along for the ride.

*Maori for Hello/Greetings New Zealand
**Maori for Goodbye New Zealand

Kia Ora Aotearoa: Vol. 1

I arrived in Auckland late at night on December 5th, and it was almost 2am when I got to bed after taking the Airbus, grabbing a midnight(ish) snack and getting lost trying to find the hostel. Later in the day when I was up and dressed, I hit the supermarket for brunch and took myself on a little walking tour which included a stop at the Internet cafe to book the next leg. In the late afternoon I came across a fabulous outdoor photography exhibit- "Earth From Above." The photographer, Yann Arthus-Bertrand, has spent years documenting fantastic scenes- all related to one environmental issue or another- from helicopters and planes and the images are just breathtaking. Apparently it has already been seen by 120 million people in cities all over the world and continues to travel. I definitely recommend it if it comes anywhere near you.

After that I popped into a bookstore and shuffled around for a bit. This is one of my favorite pastimes in a foreign country (well, where I speak the language anyway!). It's really interesting to see what's 'hot' in literature in other countries and what of that has travelled from your own country. It's also a great way, if you're an avid reader like me, to find new authors and books that you might not come across otherwise. Once I emerged from the stacks, I decide it was feeding time (again) and I went on a stroll for something I hadn't had in a while- sushi. Folks are always surprised by how much I enjoy sushi restaurants given that I don't eat seafood, but I adore veggie rolls, miso soup, edamame, seaweed salads and the like. I found a decent spot and gobbled my favorites down, then moseyed back through Auckland (another fairly small and manageable city) to my hostel.

In the morning I packed up and checked out before dumping my backpack in the storage closet and going to get some brekkie. I also did the last of my gift shopping, keen to purchase presents before I totally ran out of money! At around midday I retrieved my backpack and headed for my Naked Bus to Rotorua. Naked Bus is an excellent long-distance coach company in NZ. I was told it got its name because if you ride it completely in the nude, you will get your ticket free. I can't say I didn't consider this...

I arrived in Rotorua, famous for its natural sulphur hot springs, at about 4pm. The first thing one notices is the, um, odor. The faint smell of sulphur, akin to rotten eggs, is in the air all the time, clinging to the fibres in one's clothes. I suppose those who live there get used to it? I found my hostel, Crank Backpackers, not far from the bus stop. It used to be a shopping mall, so its layout is one of the more interesting I've seen. In my room I met Saskia from Holland, also travelling alone, and we decided to walk to the nearby park and check out some of the bubbling mud pools and things. The smell got stronger as we walked towards the park, and they really are bizarre- little ponds of boiling mud! While wandering around we also came across a natural thermal pool where we could dip our feet. Aaaaaah! So warm and such a relief for tired tootsies that have been hauling a 44 lb (20 kg) backpack around. Barely able to drag ourselves away, we eventually walked down to the supermarket to buy some pasta for dinner, which we cooked in the hostel kitchen. We also bought a cheap bottle of wine to accompany this culinary delight, and merrily gulped it down out of coffee mugs as other backpackers looked at us with suspicion. It wasn't until we were halfway done with the bottle that we became of aware of the myriad signs around us- above us, below us, in front of us, behind us- that said 'THIS HOSTEL IS LICENSED. IT IS ILLEGAL TO DRINK YOUR OWN ALCOHOL. ANYONE CAUGHT DOING SO WILL BE REMOVED FROM THE PREMISES AND THE POLICE WILL BE CALLED'. Ah, right. We stuffed what was left of the wine is Saskia's bag and ran outta there sharpish to a bench in the street to finish it, only to find out later that drinking outdoors is also illegal in New Zealand. What's a broke backpacker to do then?!

The next day, with Saskia departed by the time I rose, I decided to take advantage of one of the hostel's discounted activities that I had seen on the back of the door while on the loo. It was for a visit to Hells Gate, a thermal park featuring mud baths and hot springs. I caught the Hells Gate bus at about 1pm, and upon arrival followed a trail around the park where I saw things like 'The Steaming Cliffs', 'The Cooking Pools' and 'The Inferno.' Surprise, they were all hot. It was really amazing though, the Cooking Pools are actually hot enough to cook in! In some places on the trail the ground is actually warm to the touch all year round, as the earth's crust is very thin in this part of the world. Once I reached the end of the trail, I changed into a bathing suit to go in the mud bath. I figured there'd be other people in there with me, but each individual party gets its own bath. So there I am on my lonesome, playing with mud, listening to giggling couples rub it all over each other. Sigh. I had fun though- it was like being five years old again and getting dirty just for the fun of it. After 20 minutes the attendant told me I had to get out- it's bad for your skin after too long- and shower to get into the first of two hot sulphur pools. Aaaaaah again! So warm and soothing, if a bit smelly (I trashed the bathing suit afterwards). I had a nice chat with a girl from Zimbabwe, Pearl, who was also on a long trip around the world, having extended it past its original end-date. We then climbed into the hotter pool and soaked and gabbed there for a bit until it was time to get out to get ready for the bus back to Rotorua. Before it came, I just had time to visit the workshop and make a little carving of a Kiwi bird as a souvenir. Thanks to the Maori guy who instructed me, Tomato (?), as I know he was just about to take a tea break when I showed up!

The next day I had an early bus to Taupo to see the largest lake in New Zealand. It was just a short hop, arriving mid-morning. At the bus station as I puzzled over a map, I met Andy from the north of England, who was also puzzling. We learned we were staying at the same hostel, so we set off together to find it. Once settled we decided to go for a hike to see the Huka waterfall. It was a good walk to the falls and back, and in the evening we met up with Karen from Scotland, whom Andy had met elsewhere in NZ. We three then took a couple of bottles of wine down to the lake, which really was stunning.

The following morning I had another fairly early bus to Wellington, the capital, having decided that I'd seen and done everything in Taupo if I wasn't going to sky-dive or bungy jump (I was keen on the former, but my budget prevented such fun and games). Andy and I had decided that we would travel together for a few days- always nice to have a travel buddy and he had vaguely been planning similar things. He could only get an afternoon bus however, so I arrived in Windy Welly at about 5pm by myself. And windy it was! I was already unsteady on my feet thanks to the oversized luggage strapped to my back, and now I was literally being blown all over the street. I think the wind actually carried me to my hostel. Andy turned up at about 7, and we grabbed some dinner and then tried out a few bars as recommend by various guide books.

In the morning we got up to do a bunch of errands- most importantly booking the ferry trip to the South Island for the next day. After that and laundry, breakfast, etc., we set off for the national Te Papa museum. It's free, and it's excellent. It's really well laid out, and there was a brilliant exhibit on earthquakes, lots of information on Maori culture and European immigration to New Zealand, and a fabulous photography exhibition featuring photos by Brian Brake. After a few hours there we walked into the center of the city to catch the cable car up to the Botanical Gardens. Once aloft I discovered, horror of horrors, that my little camera had snuffed it! It was making a weird rattling noise and everything was purple and wiggly on the screen. Oh no! And with only 13 days left of my voyage! I put it down to a tumble it had taken the evening before off my 900 foot high bunk bed. I was very disappointed, but figured life could be worse. We had a great walk around the gardens regardless, and in the late afternoon took the cable car back down to look for camera repair shops and then went back to the hostel for the free dinner (which actually turned out to be rubbish and we had to go and get more food!).

After dinner we got ready to go out, and I sorrowfully messed about with my camera, shaking it and turning it on and off. I figured I had nothing to lose and started whispering sweet nothings to it: "Pweeeese wittle camwa, I will wuv you foreva if you work for me again, just two more weeks!" And, miracle of miracles, it came back to life! I was positively jubilant and wanted to go out straight away to get snapping! Andy and I decided to check out a highly recommended bar, Mighty Mighty, which is on Cuba Street- THE place to be in Welly. It's a really cool place with live music and very eclectic decor. We sat at the bar, and while Andy chatted with a Brazilian girl also staying in our hostel, I was suddenly accosted by a lady named Penny who was on her first girls night out since the birth of her first baby. Penny then proceeded to dominate the rest of my evening.

The following morning we had to be up at 6:30 for the shuttle bus to the ferry to Picton in the South Island. It was one of those massive ferries, with restaurants and shops and bars and things, so it wasn't seasickness inducing or anything like that- thank goodness! The ride was about three hours, and the scenery as the ferry passed through the Marlborough Sounds was just incredible. Once on the other side, we hopped on a bus to Nelson where we were going to stay for two nights, primarily to do a wine tour. After two hours driving on very windy roads, I rolled off the bus in Nelson, white-faced and motion sick. A van from our hostel was waiting to drive us there, and all I could manage for the rest of that day was lunch and a lie-down! A nice American girl, Chelsea from Michigan, was also staying in our room and she and Andy went out boozing that evening while I stayed in to book the wine tour and rest my poor tummy!

The next day was wine tour day. Having lived so close to Napa and Sonoma for the past several years, I've learnt a lot about wine but there has been many a time where I've returned from a day of wine tasting a bit (read: very), as some might say, trollied. I therefore made a promise to myself, that in the presence of (basically) strangers, I was not to get 'Napa'd'! Chelsea, Andy and I were picked up at about 11 by our driver Roy, and we set off out to the vineyards with a lovely couple from Vancouver, Marilyn and Richard.

The Nelson wine-tasting region, which does look a lot like Napa, I have to say, is most famous for its white wines, and we tried all sorts of delicious things. After two tastings we took a break for a fabulous lunch, and then Chelsea, Marilyn and I- all chocolate fiends- begged Roy to take us somewhere we could get some of the stuff. After a choc stop, we visited three more vineyards. At the first of those, we were given some avocado oil and bread to enjoy with our wine- YUM! I'd never had it before and it is delish! At the next place, Woollaston vineyard, Marilyn and Richard bought a bottle of champagne which they opened right there in the tasting room and shared with us all. The last place was in the most beautiful setting, and we all sat, Roy included, and had a good old chat. Before we parted ways, Richard and Marilyn gave us three impoverished backpackers one of the bottles of wine they'd bought, and we promptly took it out to a BYOB restaurant to drink with dinner. Oh, and I didn't even end up too sozzled!

The following day I was to part ways with Andy and Chelsea, who were both staying on in Nelson for a bit while I was bound for Christchurch. I said goodbye to my travel buddies, and caught a bus to Blenheim where I was to change. And in Blenheim, it all went pear-shaped. I had two hours to kill, so I hit the supermarket, backpack in tow, got some lunch and went back to the bus stop. I ate it up, and sat and read my book until it was time for the bus. At the designated time, a bus pulled up, but it didn't say Christchurch in the window. Hmm, I thought, should I double-check with the driver, in case this bus is simply mismarked? Nah, my bus will be here soon. Well folks, this is a downside of travelling alone- there's no one to second guess your decisions with. Turns out it WAS my bus and the last one of the day to Christchurch, so I was stranded in Boringsville Blenheim for the night, AND had to buy another bus ticket for the next day. Boo. Total brain fart, totally my fault!

I found a hostel down the road that had a bed for the night, and decided to take advantage of my free time by hitting the Internet cafe and getting an early night. The following morning in the kitchen I met Jamie from Canada, also headed to Christchurch on the same bus. Everything happens for a reason, I like to think, as now I had a travel buddy that I wouldn't have had otherwise. We arrived in Christchurch at about 3pm, and I only had that afternoon to check it out, as I was leaving for Queenstown at 7am the next day. Once we were settled in our respective hostels, Jamie and I met up again and took a walk to the art gallery, which was fabulous. Then we took a long stroll around the botanical gardens, chatting for ages about girly things, and smelling every single flower in the rose garden. We then went back to the center of the city, and decided to check out the beautiful cathedral. As luck would have it, a carol service was just beginning, so we decided to go as it's so hard to get into the Christmas spirit when it's warm outside, if you're not used to it. It was a lovely service, and as even MORE luck would have it, there was free bubbly and mince pies afterwards- result, dinner taken care of! We parted ways after that, and I went back to my hostel to get ready for my bus to Queenstown, from whence I will begin the next part of this here yarn.

Aussie! Chapter Two

From Brisbane, I hopped the Greyhound for the five-hour journey to Hervey Bay, or, the gateway to Fraser Island. From what I understand, it's really the only reason people stop in the town, and I was no different! I arrived in the early evening and was met at the bus stop by the owner of my hostel and his bright pink van. Hot. Once checked in, I got chatting to some folks in my dorm room and joined them for fish and chips (well, chicken nuggets and chips for me- I still can't do that seafood thing!) I had a very early start the following morning, so after that I went to pack up my things for my two-day/one-night trip to Fraser, as I'd be leaving the big backpack behind.

The next morning at too-early o'clock, the bus to take me to the Fraser Island ferry arrived. Everyone was looking a bit sleepy, so there wasn't much socializing until we arrived on the island and were herded onto our tour bus. Little did I know what shenanigans were about to begin, but let me tell you a little about Fraser before I get to that.

First and foremost it's famous for being the largest sand island in the world- 1840 kilometers squared. It's a fairly diverse place as well, nature-wise, with all sorts of magical birds, bees and trees. My favorite thing about it is the Aboriginal belief of how the island came to be. The main Aboriginal god (name escapes...) had a daughter and he sent her down from the up above to create the world (with his supervision, of course). She loved the earth so much- the animals and rivers and lakes and things- that when she went back up to her father, she begged him to let her live on earth. Dad/God didn't much care for this idea- he didn't want her just wandering around, getting into scrapes like kids do, so to keep her off the mean streets of the new planet, they came up with a compromise: she would become an island. So she floated back down and lay down in the ocean and became Fraser Island (named after one Elizabeth Fraser, methinks), the rivers and streams her lifeblood.

Lovely story, right? Now, back to the party. Once off the boat, as noted, our tour guide/driver Peter got us all on the bus and we began bouncing (and I mean BOUNCING) along the sand roads. Peter was an absolute riot- full of the sorts of jokes that you know you should groan at, but that you secretly find hilarious. Even though he does this five times a week or something, he made us feel like we were the world's number one tour group!

First we visited Basin Lake, very beautiful and clear. A few folks went swimming but not being much of a water person, I skipped it. We then went on a little hike through the forest- all of us dismayed to be almost outpaced by two elderly German sisters! After seeing 'something else' (as I have helpfully noted in my journal), we had a yummy picnic lunch followed by a visit to the famous Lake McKenzie. Now this lake really was spectacular! As blue as the bluest of blues and crystal clear, even I, the champion water-avoider, couldn't resist a swim- especially when Peter tossed us an underwater camera and told us to go nuts! Afterwards we warmed up with some coffee and tea and were then driven to our hostel. (Lots of folks camp and whatnot on Fraser, but I opted not to. I haven't changed THAT much!) I was glad to be rooming with three new friends- Becky and Olivia from England and Angela from Holland. We quickly dumped our stuff and caught a shuttle bus down to the beach to drink some beverages of the alcoholic persuasion and watch the gorgeous sunset with more new friends from Canada and Holland. As we sat there, contemplating what horrible lives we all have, we heard some commotion down the beach, only to see a dingo strolling along. (Luckily there were no babies around.)

There are quite a few dingoes on Fraser, and they can be extremely aggressive. I know this thanks to a sign that said: "Beware! An aggressive dingo frequents this area. It is frequently in this area and is known to be aggressive." (Thanks for clearing that up.) But seriously, they are pretty dangerous when they want food. Still, it was cool to see one for real (especially as, spoiler alert, I didn't see ONE kangaroo the whole time in Oz!), but I didn't snap a picture because my camera was dying and honestly, they're just skinny red (vaguely angry) dogs.

After the sunset we all piled into the shuttle bus (and I mean piled- I was sitting on someone's lap with about eight people on my lap) and went back up the hill for dinner which was followed by an eclectic variety of drinking games, contributed by citizens of several different countries! We played Fuzzy Duck from Wales, some hand slapping thing from Holland, Spoons from the UK, S**thead from Germany and the now infamous 'Box Game', taught to us by three lovely Dutch boys. This highly amusing pastime begins with an empty goon box with one side ripped off. The participants stand in a circle and must take turns picking the box up off the floor using only their teeth (well, the rules are no hands, so...). Once everyone in the circle has successfully completed this task (three tries then you're out), a strip of the box is ripped off around the top, making the box shorter and therefore harder to grab etc., and so on. I went into this overly confident thanks to yoga, only to find that I was RUBBISH and could barely make it to round three, after which I gracefully exited the game and soon after that, went to bed!

The following day was another early start, and Peter drove us down to 75-mile beach and then, ONTO 75-mile beach where were zoomed alongside the surf at unbelievably high speeds! It was incredibly beautiful though. We soon arrived at Eli Creek, a fantastically clear little river that one can float down or walk through. As there was only one flotation device for 35 people, most of us walked. We then hurtled further down the beach to the famous Maheno shipwreck, which ran aground on Fraser while being transported to Japan as scrap metal in 1935. No one died or anything (good! But, slightly less exciting too, in a way...), but it's still pretty spooky as it just sits there, right on the beach, rusty and forlorn-looking.

After more daredevil beach driving (and our bus wasn't small- it felt like we were going to tip over!), we arrived at Indian Head which we were to hike up. It was a fairly easy hike with an incredible view, but the weather was absolutely schizophrenic! I've never experienced anything like it! It LITERALLY went from baking sun to hail to rain and back to sun again in about seven minutes. Bizarre! Once we were all down, we hopped back on the bus for lunch, only to find out that we'd lost one of the elderly Germans! Panic ensued, but thankfully we found her with another tour group somewhere down the beach- phew!

After lunch it was more swimming, this time in the Champagne Pools. These are huge rock pools where the ocean waves crash over the top making tons of bubbles, giving the effect of a glass of champagne. Though I was slightly disappointed to learn that we wouldn't actually be served champagne, it was still a lovely spot to visit.

We capped off the day with a visit to a seriously massive sand dune and we all went sand-jumping down the side of it- leading to sand-filled bottoms and a couple of ruined cameras! Then it was quickly back to the bus to rush back to the ferry port. Why? Because yours truly here had to catch the 5pm ferry. Yep, just me. I had been given the wrong information about when we'd be back, and had to catch an overnight bus to Airlie Beach. Super embarrassing, but also lots of fun as Peter positively raced along the sand roads, blasting AC/DC and sending us flying all over the place. He got me there with about 30 seconds to spare and I hopped on the ferry, sad to miss the end of the tour with my new friends, but excited for the next leg of my trip to the Whitsunday Islands.

After a non-eventful ferry ride and bus trip, I arrived in Airlie Beach at 9am-ish the following day. I wasn't leaving for the Whitsundays until the next morning, so I had a day to get organized- a pedicure, some Interwebs, laundry and whatnot. I met a nice girl called Rosie in my hostel room and we went together to watch the film the hostel put on that evening, Pearl Harbor. It was actually quite appropriate, as it was Thanksgiving in the US and I was feeling patriotic towards my adopted land. I celebrated by having some toast. Rosie's toast, actually. Saved me a buck.

The next morning, after storing the big backpack again, I was picked up for my two-day/one-night trip to the Whitsunday islands. There are 94 islands total, all in the general area of the Great Barrier Reef. At the port I boarded a shockingly purple catamaran, the Camira. We set off in decent weather, though we did get some rain over the course of the day. It didn't ruin the gorgeous island views however. On the boat I met some lovely girls- Tabea from Germany, Carley from Wales and Stephanie from England and we had a brilliant day eating and chatting and sunbathing on the beach (minus the hour or so where I was pretty seasick- blah).

At the end of the day Carley, Stephanie, myself and a few others were transferred to the beautiful Long Island for our overnight stay. As we got off the ferry and walked towards the resort, we realized it was, you know, a PROPER place! A real resort where grown-ups go for holidays and things. Result! We checked in and Carley, Stephanie and I managed to get a hostel room together (which despite the massive beetles outside wasn't too bad- we saw a wallaby hopping about nearby!), then showered and went down to the bar for some drinks and an intense girly chat about all things feminine. Brilliant day.

The next morning we dragged ourselves to the pool (tough life), then to the bar for some lunch (what a struggle!) and then we decided to go on a little 'walk' around the island. Oh dear. Well, it started out easy enough, but thanks to recent rain the trail began to get quite muddy and treacherous and not really ideal for flip-flop wearers as we three were. I wasn't too bothered myself, having spent time in India and the like, but Stephanie and Carley (sorry ladies, you know it's true!) were, how do you say, whining? A lot! I had to giggle at them, honestly, and remind them that hey, life could be a lot worse! We survived, however, and after a quick dip to wash off the mud we got back on the ferry bound for Airlie, sad to say goodbye to the gorgeous Whitsundays and our break from the backpacking life. Sigh.

Once back in Airlie at about 5pm, I had a plan to catch an 8pm overnight bus to Cairns. Only problem: I hadn't yet booked the ticket. I did a mad dash to a travel agency to see if they could help me, as I'd lost the booking number for my bus pass. Thankfully, after several phone calls, the girl at the desk managed to book me the ticket. The panic was over, at least for the meantime. I went back to the hostel to retrieve my backpack, take a shower and eat a can of spaghetti and then set off for the bus stop. When the bus arrived I went to check in with the driver and, guess what? I wasn't on the list and it was a packed bus. Boo. He put me to one side with two other travelers in the same predicament and we waited to see if he could squeeze us on. Luckily, he could and we set off for Cairns, where we arrived at about 6:30 the following morning. The hostel I had booked wasn't even open yet, so I sat at the bus stop eating a breakfast of Maltesers and water until 7:30 when I set off to find my lodgings. My strategy at this point in my trip was to email a few decent-sounding hostels and then go with whichever one got back to me first. This time, it was an all-girls hostel- woo hoo. The crazy Dawn, who runs the place, checked me in and I promptly passed out in the dorm room.

When I woke up in the late morning, I had a gourmet lunch from the supermarket and then walked down to the lagoon. The Cairns lagoon is basically a giant man-made municipal swimming pool right by the ocean, surrounded by a big grassy space where everyone sunbathes, hangs out and listens to live music on the weekend. Brilliant. I relaxed there for a while, and then went for a long walk down the waterfront- a few kilometers- stopping at the end to read my book for a while as the sun started to go down. Beautiful. I then walked all the way back, and had a quick bite of pizza for dinner before meandering back to my hostel. That evening I met a lovely girl from Scotland, Claire, and we had a super long chat about all sorts of things- travelling, boys, family, etc. We made plans to hang out the following day, and I went to bed.

In the morning Claire and I met up for breakfast and set off for a walk around Cairns and to find the location where she'd take a bartending course later in the day, as she was on the ever-popular Working Holiday Visa. Cairns is a fairly small and manageable little city- more like a large town- and Claire had been told the place she'd be going was very central. Lies! It was MILES away, and we huffed and puffed and sweated our way down to this office, and once she was sorted decided to take a bus back into town. We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around shops, having lunch and sitting at the lagoon until it was time to part ways- I had to go back to the hostel and pack for my 1:30am flight to Melbourne.

The airport shuttle came for me at 9:30pm, and I got on my Tiger Airways flight at about 1 o'clock in the morning- this was going to be another exhausting journey, but it was the cheapest way! We landed in Melbourne at 4:40am, and after claiming my bags I took a bus into the city and located my hostel at about 6am. Luckily it had a 24-hour reception and they let me in, but it was still four hours until I could check in. I sat and read my book for a while, ate the free breakfast and at about 7:30am fell asleep on the sofa in the lobby while everyone else was sitting all around me, eating breakfast and hanging out! At 10am they let me check in and I went right back to bed. In the early afternoon I got up and went for a walk around the city. Lovely place- I'd been told I'd love it but I think Sydney had already stolen my heart. First I went for a walk down by the river, and then walk all the way back through the city to Brunswick Street, a bit like Haight Street in San Francisco, or somewhere in the village in NYC. I took myself out for a pizza dinner at a cute little Italian place, and then walked aaaall the way back to my hostel, stopping to look at all the Christmas displays in the shop windows. Though lovely, the 'Christmas in summer' thing was really doing my head in. It's not natural people!

The following day I roused myself for an exciting morning catching up on Internet bits 'n bobs, and then went for a stroll to the Botanic Gardens. I was enjoying a lovely healthy lunch on a bench when all of sudden, guess what, it started to POUR! I tried to curl up under my umbrella, but it was a lost cause and I decided I had to head back. Once warm and cozy in the hostel again, I had a cup of tea and waited for the FREE pasta dinner- yippee! After dinner I was milling around the kitchen and I met Shane from Brisbane and Deon from Texas, US of A! Shane managed to procure us a box of goon, so we had a bit of that before going to a local bar for the 'free drink before 10pm.' Unfortunately, once the free drink was gone, we had to go back to the hostel for the goon as we were all too poor to actually purchase a drink. Miserable, but it was all right because the following day, a lifelong dream was to come true...

In the United Kingdom, where as many of my dear readers know I was born and raised until teenage-hood, there's a very popular little television program called Neighbours. It's been on TV for about 25 years, and details the lives and times of, you guessed it, a bunch of neighbours in a fictional suburb of Melbourne. Though an Australian program, it was almost canned in its native country but was revived when the BBC aired it in the UK in 1986. At this point, it absolutely took off, and has been beloved by many a Brit ever since- myself included. In fact, when informed at the tender age of 12 that the Hughes family would be relocating, I got myself into an absolute tizzy over the fact that Neighbours isn't aired in the United States (though it is aired in Kenya, fact), and how was I POSSIBLY going to live without knowing what was happening every day on Ramsay Street?!? (I mean, I loved Neighbours so much I used to give it up for Lent, as it was the hardest thing I could possibly do and I was sure the Good Lord could see that!) Somehow, I survived, but when I was in Melbourne I decided that broke as I was, I just HAD to scrounge up the cash to do the Official Neighbours Tour.

I was therefore BEYOND excited the morning of tour, and picked my best backpacking outfit to wear! I went down to the pickup point at 11am to get on the official bus. As suspected it was packed with 'poms'*, and we sang along to the theme song (which I still remember!) at the top of our lungs as we drove out to 'Erinsborough.' First we visited some of the outdoor sets- a lot has changed in the 14 or so years since I've seen the show, but I recognized some of it! We were then driven to the fictional Ramsay Street, which is actually a tiny road called Pin Oak Court and is where all the outdoor scenes are filmed. Now THIS I recognized! NOTHING has changed since I started watching the program in the late eighties, and I did get a bit giddy seeing Dr. Kennedy's house, the Robinsons' and Harold and Madge's old digs.

After that we were taken to meet an actor, and I hoped against hope that it would be Dr. Kennedy or someone who's been on it for years, but alas, it was an actor whose character has been and gone in the years since I've watched the show, so I had no idea who he was. Still, he was cute so I got a photo with him!

That was the end of the tour, and we were driven back into Melbourne. Our bus driver offered to give us individual rides back if our locations were central, so I felt a right rockstar when I was dropped off at my hostel in the ridiculously cheesy but super awesome Neighbours bus! Top day out!

That evening I had another treat. A girl I had met on the Whitsundays boat trip- Tabea from Germany- was also in town so we got together for a drink at a pub and had a good old chat and listened to some live music. We met up again the following morning for a visit to the excellent Queen Victoria Market where you can get just about ANYTHING, and did some souvenir shopping and whatnot before I had to head to the airport to go back to Sydney.

This time I was to stay at my friend Kate's apartment, and I arrived there at about 6pm. We had a very relaxed evening of snacks and telly-watching before calling it a night. The next morning we got together with some friends of Kate's and all went to a local farmers market where we sampled lovely cheeses and wines and things. In the afternoon, Kate's friend Stacey drove me, Kate and another of their friends who was visiting from the US to Watson's Point for the brilliant views and then to the famous Bondi Beach. Though locals will tell you it's not the best beach around Sydney, and definitely not the best for surfing, it was still a treat to see it given that it's so famous (and to see the lifeguards. Again, for their, you know, skills).

That evening I got the closest a traveler can get to taking the day off from, well, travelling! Kate and her boyfriend Paul went out for dinner, and instead of meeting travelling friends for drinks, I took advantage of a DVD player, a couch and a kitchen and had a night in. Fabulous.

The next day was my last in Australia. After breakfast at home, Kate and I went for walk to the Chinese market and to Darling Harbor, where I ran into an old friend from my long ago Fraser Island days- Horatio from Canada. After some delicious gelato, Kate and I headed back so I could pack and get ready for my journey to New Zealand, which was to be the last stop on the voyage.

Fair dinkum Aussie, I had a brilliant time, and I'll be back to see you as soon as I can for the things I missed: didgeridoos, kangaroos and, um, Uluru!

*'Pom' is the slang word Australians use for British folks. One of the explanations is that it stands for 'Prisoner of Her Majesty'.