Matt & Mercaders - The World Tour

TRAVEL NOTES: The Incident On Day Two

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 00:08:00 GMT

Amazing scenes aboard the Golondrina.

Day 2 at The Galapagos Islands began with the announcement from one of our colleagues, Bert, that $150 was missing from his safety deposit box, apparently locked in his cabin.

After lunch Bert called a meeting asking us to check our belongings to see if anyone else had lost anything. The Captain, a fairly miserable character, took a considerable amount of offence to this and addressed us via an interpreter - our tour guide Fabrizio. At this point the tension intensified as the Captain announced that we, as a group, had ten minutes to find the money or we turn back to the port to file a police report. There was also a lot of bleating about his crew being impeccable, trustworthy etc., that no one else could have boarded the boat, and that he held the only other key to the safety deposit boxes in our cabins.

This didn't go down well. Furthermore, Bert wasn't keen to go back. He wasn't going to disrupt everyones trip but they put this form in front of him which if he signed said that none of the crew had stolen anything and if he didn't sign it we went back. Cue a tug of war between Bert and the crew. It was a crazy period that was finally brought to a swift end when another member of our group realised he had lost $600.

We headed back.

An hour later we hear sirens from the Navy Police as they saddle up against the Golondrina. Incredible moments as the officer gathered us together. At this point I got as close to realising my dream of being in an episode of Inspector Morse as is ever likely. It was amazing. The officer had a list of all our names, and then something incredible happened. "Who is Mercado? Mercado? Where is Mercado?". Could Chloe be the number one suspect in this crime? I have to confess, she had been displaying some pretty eratic behaviour. "That's me" came the vulnerable response, "That is my name too!" said the officer. And so she survives another day.

The officer made some pretty scary comments. "This boat will not continue if we cannot find an outcome to this crime" being one of them. An hour or two of cabin searches and interviews and the officer conceded that it would be bad for Galapagos tourism if we didn't get underway. Then Fabrizio stunned us all by saying that the owner of the boat had decided that the victims would be reinbursed and, wait for it, every member of the crew fired.

Imagine that, 5 days on a boat with crew that were on their final voyage. The banter between us at this stage reached fever pitch. I for one for throwing out conspiracy theories left, right and centre. I was in my element. There was definetely something fishy going on and it wasn't that nights tuna salad. Earlier in the day we had gone ashore and on our return a few guys noticed a boat was pulling away from the Golondrina. For some reason or another, none of the crew were interested in this bit of evidence. The crew weren't exactly showing symptoms of people who had lost their jobs.

On the other hand, Bert had been pretty badly scarred by the experience. All trust was gone. He was displaying tell tail signs of paranoia. From this point on he didn't go anywhere without his rucksack, which contained anything of value. At dinner the bag sat between his legs, on walking tours he would take it with him. He even found a waterproof bag that allowed him to snorkle with it. Bert was an outstanding character.

The whole escapade added to our experience. The members of our party were like-minded in that it wasn't going to affect our Galapagos trip and I for one was $750 better off. Joke.

Ecuador & The Galapagos Islands

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 00:03:00 GMT

Ecuador was next on our hit list and we were there to realise an ambition of Chloe's - The Galapagos Islands. For all we had heard it promised to be an outstanding part of our travels and it delivered. An unbelievable place.

But more of that in a minute because what took us by surprise was how much we liked Ecuador's capital, and our first stop, Quito. Our previous destination, San Jose, probably gave Quito a helping hand in that it was so rubbish that by comparison we already loved our new environment.

We stayed in the new town which had a really modern feel, so unlike Central American cities, with much more fashionable venues to hang out at. It had a totally unique feel to anywhere else we had been. Quito is a city in the clouds, its altitude means that in the evening you can see the cloud moving past the street lamps. Its eerie - especially when you hear so much about the threat of street crime.

We went out of Quito to the nearby equator line. That was cool. Then we explored the Old Town of Quito which really sets it apart from other cities. Old cobble streets, Churches on every corner, pretty squares and plazas and intersting Ecuadorian characters at every turn. Up on the hillside over-looking the city is the Virgen de Quito which is Quito´s version of Rio's Christ the Redeemer. It's huge when you get up close and the views of the city from inside the statue are amazing.

And so to Galapagos. Wow. We boarded our boat, The Golondrina, with a motley crew of tourists and a motley crew. Here is a summary of our colleagues:

A German couple - could speak far more english than they would let on
Two french ladies - could speak far less english than anyone
Two Californians - Steve and Elizabeth, co-investigators in Bert-gate (see: The Incident On Day Two)
An Aussie and Kiwi couple - lived down the road from us in Chis a few years back
A Chilean and his 16 year old girlfriend - nicknamed Magnum because he used to be a P.I. in Chicago before going into the Fruit Machine business. This guy was the million dollar man.
A Mexican and his wife - Old mates with the Chilean. Now chief doc at Chicago and US Soccer teams.
Bert - German implicated in Bert-gate, great chap
And Ken, the Japanese pop star - the icing on the cake. This kid was social gold.

Our guide was Fabrizio ("call me Fozzy") one of the nicest people I've ever met. He was born on the Galapagos Islands and he was as passionate as they come. The tour was 5 days and by the end of it you really see a startling variety of nature and wildlife.

Sea lions, tropical fish and coral, lizards, flamingos, hermit crabs, snakes, pelicans, marine and land iguanas, hawks, finches, doves, sharks, manta rays, sting rays, turtles, tortoises, blue footed booby birds, frigate birds - the list goes on.

I wont do a run down of each day because it really is about seeing everything that the islands have to offer but I will give a few of the highlights:

Swimming with sea lions on one of the best beaches of our entire travels
Snorkelling with sharks
Checking out 150 year old tortoises
The incident on day two
Some entertaining evenings on the boat

The last of these highlights makes me think of Ken. He lives for music. Singing at every possible turn on one night we persuaded Ken to give us a song one night. Picture this if you will - We were on the top of the boat, Ken looks to the sky and so begins "are the stars shining tonight?" before breaking into a truly stunning song about the sky at night (the name of the song escapes me).

This young man's life is one long music video. When we were swimming with sea lions in the surf, Ken was striding along the beach belting out his favourite love songs. The sun was setting behind him and it was like we were watching our own private music video. Words cant describe it.

A thoroughly enjoyable time on the boat. We all got on so well despite language barriers and other differences. We particularly got on with Steve and Elizabeth hooking up with them for a night out in Quito on our return. And although I may not have gone into great detail about the up close and personal moments with the wildlife it truly was the star of the show - sorry Ken, you were a close second.

Costa Rica

matt_and_mercaders — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 17:01:00 GMT

We met Cara and Polly in the city of San Jose and it was all very exciting as I hadn't seen Cara since we left England in July. After a quick catch up they jumped on a bus to head to Puerto Viejo, on the coast, where Matt and I would be joining them the next day. We spent the rest of the day in San Jose, where we had found ourselves a really lovely hostel. That was about all that was lovely about San Jose to be honest. We spent a further 4 days there at the end of our stint in Costa Rica and it didn't really get any better. It is not an attractive city and is lacking in any real culture, it is very busy but you can't walk anywhere at night as it is too dangerous. Other than going out for lunch and dinner, which is very expensive, and visiting the few random museums there isn't much else to do.

Puerto Viejo is a surfer/traveller town on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica. We were very kindly being put up by a guy called Edwin, a friend of Polly's family. I must just dedicate a little time to describing Edwin as he was such a feature of our time in Costa Rica! He is a mid-forty year old, ex pro-surfer - he was actually the first person to surf in the Antarctic. He originates from Argentina but, after spending time in various different parts of the world, has now been settled in Puerto Viejo for many years. He is a great big bear of a man, not fat you understand, just big and very kind and gentle with a very soft voice. He lives in a gorgeous bungalow that he had built in the jungle, about 15 minutes drive from the main town, that has completely open sides.

Known to make comments such as “No don't turn it on, I'm done with light for today” and “surfers love sushi, it helps them connect with the ocean” and even “the economy is like malaria man – you've got to ride it out”... he is basically a hippy, but intelligent with it as he can speak about 5 different languages. Anyway, he also has two other bungalows in the jungle, complete with open sides but these ones have netting round them, one of which he was very kindly allowing us to stay in for the duration of our stay.

That first night we headed over to Edwin's for supper where Cara and Polly, both chefs, were cooking the first of many delicious meals that me and Matt were to enjoy over the next couple of weeks. We also met Mika, a 20 year old Russian princess who was travelling round Costa Rica for 3 weeks and was staying in one of the rooms in Edwin's bungalow.

After much drinking by us and some excellent chat over the course of the evening, Mika persuaded us to head into town to go dancing. We were all having a great time in a little salsa bar, the rum and cokes were flying around, we were all confident that our form was great, Mika got her little dance ... then decided she wanted to go home. With only enough money between us for one taxi ride home and no chance of getting us out of the bar at this stage, not to mention the fact that the whole thing had been her idea, things took a small turn for the worse. The rest of this night is probably best documented in the photos we have of us looking exuberant, raucous, and probably a bit rough, whilst Mika refuses to even look at the camera.

The next day the rain started. It was torrential and it didn't stop for our entire stay. We hung out in the bungalow until it seemed like it had eased a bit and then donned our waterproofs for the long walk into town. We had decided to rent some bikes as a means of getting around. Our bikes were old and simple but effective – they even had little baskets on the front to keep things in. They don't have brakes, you basically have to pedal backwards when you want to stop.

On day two, the rain seemed to ease slightly so we decided to go for a lovely long bike ride to the next town along. So, looking like Elliot and his friends from ET, we precariously set off down the bumpy, rocky track that lead to the road. After no more than 3 minutes the heavens opened and we were soaked through within 30 seconds, no lie. We looked like we had jumped into a swimming pool with our clothes on. After pointlessly taking shelter at the end of the track we came up with the only possible solution – we would go to the shop, stock up on some food and loads of booze and head back to hang out in the bungalow. And this we did... for the next four days, interspersing our time with a lot of cards and retro games, eg consequences.

Our plan was to go from Puerto Viejo to Bocas del Toro in Panama but, due to the rain, the boarder crossing had washed away. Instead we headed over to Jaco on the Pacific Coast where a friend of Edwin's was going to give us a reduced rate at his yoga retreat. The one thing we all agreed on was that we needed to be nearer the town. Jaco is a formally beautiful beach location which is now so overdeveloped you can't even see the beach anymore. We got off the bus and hopped in a taxi to the address Edwin had given us – 10 minutes later, we arrived in the middle of nowhere. But it was a lovely little place with a pool and a bar and we were only going to stay for a couple of days ... so we decided to stay despite our earlier agreement.

We spent a couple of days relaxing by the pool, enjoying the sun and warmth – at least me and Cara did. Polly and Matt became a little restless and while Matt could fill his time playing in the pool or on the internet, Polly would frequently disappear, complete with massive headphones, on long, punishing walks.

We did have one night out in Wacko, as it came to be called, but predictably this was fairly dreadful.

Our next and final stop was Montezuma, a little hippy town further down the coast. We took a boat trip over there, during which we were lucky enough to see some dolphins. They were swimming around the boat and it was really lovely to watch them.

Our main aim in accommodation this time was to definitely be walking distance from the town, and if possible have access to a kitchen so we could save some money by cooking. After finding a couple of possibilities, we were put in touch with Heraldo who had a little house, just up the hill, that was in our price range. A little walk up and down the hill each day sounded fine, good for us in fact, plus we would have all the amenities of a house. 15 minutes later when Heraldo had driven us up a vertical hill we arrived. It was really nice and we were here now, and it would be easy to get a taxi ... we decided to take it.

The next few days were spent lazing around on the beach, enjoying some yummy home cooked food, avoiding the crazy eyed, hectic, paranoid Heraldo and, the highlight, indulging in our daily happy hour cocktails at the smart little hotel, Ylang Ylang.

After Montezuma it was back to San Jose for Matt and I and on to Panama for Polly and Cara. Costa Rica itself is pleasant but nothing much to write home about, however, our time will become another highlight because of the good times we had there with Cara and Polly.

Belize

matt_and_mercaders — Sun, 1 Feb 2009 14:53:00 GMT

Our first stop in Belize was a little place called Corozal which we were using as a pit stop, for one night, before heading out to the Cayes. We had booked into a little hotel and were greeted on our arrival by the American owner – well, technically, we weren't exactly greeted by him. It was more a case of ringing the bell and banging on the door with no response. Matt finally managed to get in only to be told by a rather large American man, who he presumed was a guest, that Gwyn, the owner, was asleep in his room. After being reassured by this, basically drunk, man that it was okay to knock on his door, a bleary eyed Gwyn appeared to check us in. He was very pleasant, if a little brusque, and kept insisting that we join him upstairs for a drink. I was completely against the idea but Matt felt we really should.

So, after dumping our bags, we cautiously made our way upstairs where we were greeted by a slightly worse for wear Gwyn and the aforementioned drunk guest. We proceeded to hang out with these two random characters for a few drinks, during which time a couple and their 3 year old turned up, also guests. As time went on it became clear that Gwyn was a raging alcoholic as he alternated between falling asleep slumped on his stool and trying to feed his new puppy beer. A strange introduction to Belize certainly, but not altogether unpleasant.

The next morning Gwyn, following a coffee for Matt and himself infused with a whopping shot of rum, kindly loaded us into the back of his truck and gave us a lift to the dock where we were catching the Thunderbolt over to our first proper destination, San Pedro. Gwyn however didn't just drop us of, he actually stayed on that dock and waved us off like we were long lost friends. Quite extraordinary behaviour but nice all the same.

Belize is a lovely place to while away some time and over the next couple of weeks we hopped between San Pedro, Caye Caulker and Placencia. To be honest they are more holiday destinations than traveller venues but with lovely beaches and fabulous weather we certainly weren't complaining! The people are very friendly and so relaxed they are virtually horizontal most of the time. We would spend our days lazing on the beach, making good use of luxury resort facilities (I should point out we weren't actually staying in these resorts) and wandering the, often single lane, sandy streets.

By the end of our time in Belize we were extremely relaxed, a little browner but definitely ready for a change of scene – thus it was that we made our way to Costa Rica where we were meeting up with Cara and Polly...

Mexico

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:56:00 GMT

We found our self in Mexico (and on this Central American leg of our travels if we are honest) because I wanted to learn more about the Mayan civilisation. Inconveniently for me, the Mayans were similar to the Incas in that we don’t actually know a great deal about them and most of what we do know is guesswork based on the ruins they left behind. These are based in the Yucatan peninsular region of the country.

I can’t speak for Mexico as a whole, however, all through the Yucatan the people we encountered were nice. Unusually so. You really notice. Even in Cancun which is an appalling place. After a few days there getting our plans sorted we headed for the town of Merida. Another country, another new culture and Merida is as good a place as any to get a realistic dose of the way of life of the region.

The town was pretty with nice squares – they have all day festivals on Saturdays and Sundays with street music and dancing. A good atmosphere to be amongst. The food though, sorry Mexico, is not good. You can forget Mexican food from home because the authentic stuff is dripping in fat, stodgy and accompanied with questionable cuts of meat. Where the food fails, however, the ruins pass the test. From Merida we visited Uxmal which had Pyramids and tombs and ball courts and loads of other curious features.

Back in Merida, we tested our Spanish when attempting to get a replacement phone for the one we had left on a bus... It was a comedy hour but we got a result despite our vocab shortcomings – you try saying SIM card and pay-as-you-go in Spanish. From Merida we made our way to Tulum with a stop off at some more ruins, this time at one of the newly appointed 7 wonders of the modern world: Chichen Itza.

It was busy but impressive and despite the formidable pyramid taking centre stage the highlight for me was always going to be something a bit random and, in Chichen Itza’s case, it was the platform of skulls. Around this stone platform were carvings of hundreds if not thousands of skulls. The platform itself was used for displaying the decapitated heads of enemies and sacrificed prisoners. According to the placard the platform “reflected the obvious intention of frightening neighbours and potentially rebellious subjects”. This is the sort of thing I came to Mexico to see.

Tulum is a traditional backpacker stop. There are more ruins but this time perched on the cliff edge next to white sand beaches and the turquoise Caribbean sea. In our case overshadowed by grey clouds and occasional rain. On top of this the hostel was rubbish. Chloe took particular offense the standard of the hosts jokes. Anyone who knows Sam Moore will appreciate her frustration. I think they had bed bugs too – Chloe’s face was swollen for the whole time we stayed there. On a positive note we met a German called Ralph on the last day of his travels who insisted on treating the swollen Chloe and I to a meal. Every cloud...

St Lucia

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:29:00 GMT

I wont go into great detail about St Lucia as it hardly constitutes travelling (with the exception of getting there: Christchurch-Auckland-LA-Dallas-San Juan-St Lucia). We met up with Chloe's family who spend Christmas there and after Christmas we were joined by my family. We had an amazing 3 weeks there (the time was dictated by the flights we could get and not greed!) with a huge a array of highlights. Including:

Seeing family after 5 months away - unforgettable
Andy´s insistence on having the most ridiculous cocktails on the menu
Emphatic table-tennis victories with Noosh Mercado
Mini-tennis victories against Andy and Dad
Dad deciding it might be a good idea to try water-skiing despite his dodgy knees - and then limping back to his sun lounger
The worlds best steak at The Big Chef
The Bonehills putting on an awesome Christmas feast
Dad becoming friends with a local rasta
New Year's party back at 502
Stef Mercado's 2 foot cigar
Milkshakes and Ribs every day
Clives omellette
Ludicrous secret santa presents e.g. A glue gun
Two boat-trips
Susanna and Brian's daily watersport activity
Dan Jude's jean selection (red, green, white and electric blue...)
Dan Jude rage at a 12 year old (he made the kid dance for him)
and many, many more

TRAVEL NOTES – What I've Learnt About Chloe

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:25:00 GMT

Here is a selection of things that I've learnt about Chloe since we set off. This is an ongoing list so be sure to check back for an updated list. You'll probably find a What I've Learnt About Matt list on your return too.

Chloe...

1. is able to predict the time to an astonishing level of accuracy. Recently, when tested at random intervals, she has consistently been within 4 minutes of the actual, Casio recorded, time.

2. has some form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Inherited off her father this affliction means that my girlfriend has 'routines'. For example, brushing her teeth in a particular order.

3. is scared of butterflies.

4. is incredibly frugal with money. Like today in Mumbai - i've just haggled my way to buying her a t-shirt for the equivalent of 1 pound 20 pence. She was convinced I could have eeked an extra 5p off the lad.

5. has a remarkably powerful sense of smell. A mild odour to me can virtually knock her out. Imagine me taking her to India for a month!

6. ran an insect hospital with her friend Harriet when she was young. "How did you choose the insects?" i aksed "Any insect that we thought needed some medical attention" she replied. "But not slugs... Harriet refused to tend to slugs".

7. had a male aupair named Pascale. He used to iron clothes a lady's nightie

8. had a well documented fat stage at uni. The food responsible: Mars Bar toasties...

9. can do an uncanny aussie accent.

10. has a favourite planet. Jupiter. In her own words "always has been, always will be, I'm not sure why but I do love its big red spot"

Ashburton & Christchurch

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:24:00 GMT

Ross, an old family friend from Shropshire, moved to New Zealand a few years back so we decided to pay him and his girlfriend Ceci a visit. The campervan and us rolled into the agricultural heart of NZ, Ashburton, and into the curious world of Ross Appleby. Free from the constraints of family to put him straight Ross has cultivated an alternative world in which to live.

For instance, Ross has a toilet in his lounge. 'Rescued' from the garden he placed the porcelain loo in the corner of the room - taking the liberty of fitting a powerful spotlight (artistically emanating from the u-bend) and a semi-transparent toilet seat. This creative use of space has not gone down well with Ceci, who would understandably rather see it removed but, in fairness to Ross, the soft blue glow grows on you. In fact, I might just fit one myself.

Another example of Ross' world is the absence of Christmas spirit. Again, Ceci seems keen to get involved in the festive cheer so it was with some bemusement on her part when we answered her question "when do you buy your Christmas tree in England?" with the answer "early December". Ross had informed her that it was tradition to buy the tree on Christmas Eve and remove it on Boxing Day. He genuinely seemed gutted that his masterplan had been rumbled. Bear in mind that Chloe is the living embodiment of Christmas and you've got a great battle on your hands.

On the same day that we bought 40 Christmas lights for their miniature Christmas tree, Ross took Chloe and I on a farm tour. He's got a great set-up down there and we learnt a lifetimes worth of crop knowledge (as well as covering off the huge irrigation systems which I had become slightly obsessed with on our travels - the centre-pivot a personal favourite).

Ashburton itself is a farming metropolis and not a lot else gets a look in - directions to their house included "turn right at PGG Wrightson, you cant miss it, just keep your eyes peeled for the worlds largest combine harvester: the Claas Lexion 580". A quick tour of the town included the site of the Church. Not the Church itself, because that had been towed away a few months previous. Not enough demand apparently. Another highlight was being ID´d for beer in the supermarket. Given the obvious visible signs of ageing I suffer from this was a source of great pride.

We enjoyed a few relaxing days in their company and they really looked after us. We owe them a great deal for looking after us so well. Ross' world was great fun and I look forward to seeing Ross and Ceci when they are next in England. Hopefully, by then I will probably have the toilet-lamp in operation.

We rolled into Christchurch for a few un-noteworthy days before taking on the mammoth journey to St Lucia. Final stop before heading to the airport was the campervan depot where we were charged an unmentionable amount of money for a replacement windscreen due to 2 chips in our windscreen that couldn't be repaired. It left a bit of a sour taste in a mouth which went well with the foul smell of my arm (which had been lowered into a septic tank to retrieve the holding tank lid that had fallen in when I emptied it). I swore Chloe to secrecy on this little titbit but on reflection it seems a shame to omit it. Despite these late ordeals that campervan remains one of best travel investments we have made.

Queenstown & Milford Sound

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:23:00 GMT

Queenstown

We liked the atmosphere in Queenstown as soon as we arrived. It's really buzzing and busy at the same time as being quite quaint with cosy little pubs and cafes. One of the first things we did was book ourselves onto a white water rafting tour. We decided to go for the slightly harder rapids, difficulty rating 3-5 (5 being the biggest there is) and I personally felt quite proud of how brave I had become over the last few months – look at me, I'm growing. Of course it was with a somewhat pinched expression and clenched hands that I actually set out early the following morning.

We all signed our lives away before boarding the bus that was to take us to the start point. We were given the usual induction and safety spiel that one is always given before undertaking one of these experiences – oh except this time we were told that people had actually died. I mean realistically I knew this was always possible, but the cold and impassive way that this was relayed to us, did actually make me think twice about the sensibility of this escapade... but then I saw Matt's face and I knew there was to be no backing out.

We were put into our groups and assigned our group leaders – we actually had two, one of whom was being examined to determine whether or not she should qualify as a raft leader. Feeling good at this stage, feeling reeealy confident. We were given our whistle stop tour of the instructions and asked to demonstrate them a number of times to ensure, I suppose, we could tell our left from right and actually listen (you would be surprised how hard some people find this). Then before we knew it we were off! I didn't realise beforehand that you don't actually sit in the boat, but rather on the outside edge with your feet linked under the seat in front to hold you in... I mean seriously, what?? I couldn't see how I would have a hope in hell of staying in and listened extremely carefully to the different procedures to follow if one was to fall out of the boat, whilst thinking “please, please don't let it be me, please don't let me completely embarrass myself, or worse, kill myself”.

The first few easy rapids went without hitch – one of the German girls in our boat who was next to me did nearly tumble out but I was on the case and grabbed her leg... proud face. We all seemed to be able to follow the instructions and were even managing some amusing banter with the leaders. Then at the next rapid, slightly bigger and longer this time, disaster struck! Okay, it wasn't really that bad, nobody fell out or anything, but as we were all sat in the boat (one of the moves we were taught for when you are going down a rapid) somehow the boat got trapped between two massive rocks. The two leaders were desperately trying to get us out of the gap whilst we all sat there wondering what on earth was going to happen. Then eventually, a couple of the leaders from the other boat jumped out and gave them a hand and we were free at last, all quite exciting drama really.

The rest of the experience was brilliant and we had a lot of fun, especially doing the big rapid right at the end that got us all soaked. I feel I should point out that although we got to do lots of rowing and moving around the boat to aid with steering, the real hard work and technical stuff is done by the leaders, we just went along for the ride. This of course makes sense when you consider none of us had any training at all and makes it all the more fun.

That afternoon it started to pour down with rain so we found ourselves an awesome wine bar with a massive roaring fire and set about really relaxing. Our friends Nicola and Shane were also in Queenstown so we had planned to meet them that evening after they had done their rafting. Obviously we had only met them once before and realised just before we met them for the second time that we were mildly pissed (or really quite drunk in my case) and perhaps this wasn't appropriate given the circumstances. Well, we needn't have worried, they are Irish for goodness sake, they jumped right in with us and about 7 hours later we rolled out of the third bar having had a thoroughly entertaining evening.

We met up with Nicola and Shane the next day for a wander and another couple of drinks. It was at this point that the four of us discovered a shared love for all things sweet and Matt and I were introduced to one of the places that is emblazoned on my memory: The British Lolly Shop. I think at this point in our travels, finding this gem was more exciting than Charlie entering the chocolate factory, NO JOKE! It was only small but FULL of sweets and chocolate, but not just any old sweets and chocolate, oh no, we are talking British imported, retro sweets and chocolate! There were huge jars of chocolate eclairs, midget gems, toffees, lemon bon bons, pear drops, fizzy cola bottles, I mean I could go on and on. Not only that but there were bags and bars of things we had been dreaming of since we left London – minstrels, munchies, maltesers (you can't get any of these in any of the places we had been by the way), wham bars, fudge, the classic caramel bars, chocolate orange... seriously I need to stop now, even talking about it is making my mouth water! Needless to say we all went to town and probably had one of the proudest faced photos of our entire travels!

Our time in Queenstown had come to an end and after a final farewell to Nicola and Shane we packed up the van and headed off to Milford Sound for our next adventure...

Milford Sound

The journey to Milford Sound took in some of the most beautiful scenery we have ever seen. Matt in the drivers seat, me as always enjoying the ride as a passenger, kept stopping the van to get a proper look, it was that good! The closer we got the more dramatic the view became.

On arrival at the one and only campsite in Milford Sound the sky completely clouded over – not a great way to make the most of the view but pretty common apparently. We booked our Kayak tour for the next morning, which would consist of about 4 hours of kayaking amongst the mighty Milford Sound landscape, and settled in for the evening, being ultra careful as we went in and out of the bus not to let any of the disgusting sand flies in – they tried really hard.

Early the next morning we were collected and taken down to the small dock where we would be kayaking from. After being given our outfits – some lovely stripey thermal leggings, life jacket, wooly hat and skirt (that's the rubber thing that your wear round your middle and hook over the bit you sit in so as to stop the water getting in) – and a quick demonstration of how to use the oars, we were ready to be loaded in to our two-man kayak. We were a little wobbly as we were pushed into the water (me at the front) but managed to make our way over to our group. This is when we got our first glimpse of the impressive Milford Sound from water level – except it was drizzling and cloudy and we couldn't really see all that much, but it still felt awesome to be paddling around surrounded by this incredible scenery.

We managed to paddle our way to an amazing waterfall and our guide took us right up to the bottom of it so we could look up. Occasionally during the morning, a massive cruise ship would sail past and anyone who wasn't completely up with the group had to make a bit of a dash for it so as to avoid any unfortunate incidents. It is quite important that you and your partner stay in time when paddling in a kayak, this makes it smoother and easier for both. I was at the front and therefore Matt was supposed to keep in time with me, and I was really going for it and trying hard so I secretly thought he'd be quite impressed. It wasn't until near the end, when there had already been a few minor disagreements between us, that he pointed out how slowly I'd been paddling! Furiously I decided we were on no speaks – clearly impossible when trying to return home safely in a kayak.

All in all it was great fun, pretty tiring but a great way to spend a morning and attempt to see Milford Sound. We spent another night in the campsite which meant we were able to return the following morning when the sun was shining and the sky clear and see Milford Sound in all its glory – and it really was spectacular.

We then headed back to Queenstown for one night before making our way to Ashburton to stay with Ross, a friend of Matt's from home.

Glaciers & Wanaka

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:22:00 GMT

Taking the winding road out of Akaroa we were soon into the countryside again. We were heading for Arthur's Pass, a road that weaves over the spine of NZ's mountain range and its assoicated ski fields. Blessed again with ludicrous views and perfect weather I have a further opportunity to alert you to how stunning NZ scenery is.

We eventually arrived in Pukekura, an odd place, which consisted of a pub, a giftshop and a few spaces for out-of-their-depth-and-frankly-a-bit-nervous campervan enthusiasts. Pukekura and its inhabitants (population 5) have a pathological dislike for possums. Introduced from Australia these critters are a real menace to NZ. The Department of Conservation can't control them and the tireless battle to eliminate them has been picked up by this village. Most dishes contain possum roadkill as their principle ingredient (drivers aim their cars in their direction so the roads are littered with their corpses) and I even noticed a sign that read "Possums: Chickens of the Forest".

Chloe was pretty unsettled here - and I don't blame her. Puke bore all the hallmarks of insanity that remote places seem to promote. I could't help but be reminded of a B&B I stayed at in John O'Groats that had similar characteristics of madness. The sun was barely up the following morning by the time we blazed a trail out of Pukekura (blazing a trail perhaps a little generous to the Campervan). We moved onto the Glaciers.

En route to the Franz and Fox Glaciers I picked at the remnants of my A-Level Geography glacier knowledge in a bid to impress Chloe. By now the campervan had become our own remote destination to go mad in typified by brain numbing glacial statistics from me. Another incident involved the two of us belting out a word perfect rendition of Always by Bon Jovi - an inclusion in this blog that I'm sure I will live to regret.

At the Franz Josef glacier there was loads of info on glaciers and although she never said anthing I think Chloe was impressed with the overlap in my glacier stats and the info placard...

The glacier was good to see, another example of the diversity of this country, but we didn't have the inclination to hike it or the money to take a helicopter over it so we moved onto Fox glacier where a road closure prevented us from getting up close and personal.

As we made our way to Wanaka more outrageous scenery ensued and at the end of our journey the town itself was beautifully set against a lake. In our one night there we found time to feed some ducks and I introduced Chloe to skimming stones - this crucial rite of passage somehow escaping her until this very moment.

Next stop - Queenstown.

Kaikoura & Akaroa

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:19:00 GMT

Kaikoura

We decided to make Kaikoura our first stop on the South Island. It sounded like a sweet little town and apparently we might see some seals. That was no lie. As we approached the town, I spotted a seal on the rocks below. On closer inspection we discovered an entire colony of the blighters. There were males and females, big ones and small, all blubbering about on their big bellies making their strange sound. I didn't really look at them as being sweet, partly because two were getting into quite a serious argument and partly because you are told not to get too close as they are pretty aggressive and very fast. It was incredible to see them in their natural habitat, just going about their daily business.

Kaikoura has the most stunning surroundings. The main street winds along next to the sea with an immediate backdrop of huge, snowcapped mountains. To give you an idea of how enticing this view was, it compelled us to head out for a fifty minute run the next morning to appreciate it.

Kaikoura is known as the place to go on a whale watching tour. However, with the budget in mind we decided we couldn't do everything and felt we should save our money for swimming with dolphins. Instead we headed off on a walk that also took in a few look out points, supposedly good for spotting different wildlife. Anticipating a scenic but shortish walk we only had one bottle of water between us. By the time we had trekked up, down and round several hills, in the boiling heat, been confronted by sheep, cows and I think there may even have been some goats, we were weak – real weak. And desperately in ANYTHING in exchange for water? That was us. Of course, we did eventually get back to the campsite and get some water and the good news is we even spotted a whale from one of the look outs. Well, it was pretty far away, but we were almost certain it was – we've even got a photo.

After a couple of days we loaded up the van and headed for a little town called Akaroa...

Akaroa

Ah, the lovely Akaroa. Akaroa is a quaint little town with a French heritage so most of the shops, restaurants and accommodation have French names. We were staying in a campsite on a hill high above the town, but a steep path of steps meant you could walk to and from it.

The main reason we came to Akaroa was to swim with dolphins. It is home to the Hector dolphin and can boast the highest density of this endangered breed.

We had booked ourselves onto the first trip of the day so it was very early on a grey and windy morning that we set off in the bus. We were running slightly late and I had forgotten one of my important van duties (I always prepped the inside before driving while Matt did the outside jobs) – locking the fridge. So as we made our descent into the village we peeled round a corner and the fridge door swung open. A few things toppled out, including the houmous pot which parted company with the lid, spilling its contents onto the carpet floor. It was before 6am, we were in a hurry, I cried – the less said about this the better!

The campsite owner had told us we should park behind the fire station. As we drew up we saw some parking spaces out the front of it, but Matt was insistent we'd been told to go behind. So, despite the fact we had to open a huge metal gate, there were no other cars there other than the fire engine and there were no appointed spaces, we parked the van at the back and headed for the dock.

We met up with our group and group leader, donned our fetching wet suits (extra thick in some vain attempt to offer protection against the freezing water) and climbed aboard the boat. There were only eight of us in our boat and we immediately made friends with an Irish couple, Nicola and Shane. The water was very choppy but apparently this is a good thing as the dolphins feel braver and are more likely to swim close to you as they know they can get away quickly. Matt spotted the dolphins first (he was very proud) so the boat was stopped and we waited to see if the dolphins would approach us, which is a sign they are happy for us to be around.

The dolphins started to swim around the boat so after being told to expect a “religious moment” upon entry we started to hop into the water. This was no lie, the water was freezing. It didn't even make me want to scream, in fact it made us mute for the first minute – our think our bodies went into shock. But it wasn't long before the dolphins started to appear and the water was forgotten. Now for those of you that think that swimming with dolphins involves dolphins gently bobbing around you and inquisitively nosing about your person whilst you stroke them (like I did) you are wrong. It is a much more raw experience. They were surfing the choppy waves as they approached us and they swim right past you, very close, but at quite a speed. I was left in no doubt that these are wild animals, and yet they had no reason to continuously swim around and past us, again and again, other than the inquisitiveness and trust they showed in us. This is what made it one of the most incredible experiences I have had. Normally there are about three to five dolphins swimming with a group but, probably due to the roughness of the sea, there were about fifteen of them with us that day.

We took it in turns to bang two pebbles together. This is a sound that the dolphins recognise and respond to and it is incredible. I found myself a very small way off from the group and as I knocked the pebbles together the dolphins were everywhere around me, under, circling, so close they were virtually rubbing my shoulder. It is really hard to even get across how amazing it was.

After about 40 minutes in the water the dolphins slowly began to swim away and we began to realise how numb we were! So we boarded to boat to head back (it was ludicrously choppy by this point – the rest of the trips that day were actually cancelled so we were lucky).

After collecting our certificate and bidding farewell to Nicola and Shane (who we were to meet up with later in our travels) we made our way back to the bus. There was still nobody around and also no angry notes on the windscreen – so far so good. I opened the gate as Matt drove the van and then it happened: a very angry fireman stormed up to me, as I cowered by the gate, and demanded to know what the hell we thought we were doing parking in a fire station. In that second it dawned on me how absurd it was that we'd done this, clearly we should have used the appointed spaces out the front, what were we thinking?! As I stumbled and mumbled some kind of poor explanation and apology Matt approached and an identical scene unfolded. Safe to say, we had learnt our lesson as we left with our heads hanging.

We finished our time in Akaroa with a delicious dinner in a wonderful pub garden, a few too many proseccos (I think we were a bit caught up in the moment after the dolphins) and a hilarious French waiter. Then it was off to the glaciers...

Taupo & Wellington

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:15:00 GMT

The journey to Taupo threw up a few surprises. On our way into the town of Tirau I noticed a new and impressive factory adorned with 'Corruagted Creations' signage. It was a big building and I couldn't imagine that there would be that much demand for their services. That is until we entered the town. I have just spent a few minutes on the internet looking (successfully) for Corrugated Creations and have learnt that Tirau is the self-titled 'Corrgated Iron Capital of New Zealand'. You had better believe it. Nearly every store, bar, restaurant, service has one of their creations. A corrugated pizza, ice cream, scissors, but my personal favourite – I really regret not taking a photo – a 10ft, at least, corrugated Jesus. Frankly, it looked ridiculous. To be honest, I'm not convinced that corrugated iron is the most forgiving material when it comes to the subtle detail of facial features so He had the look of a cartoon character. Anyway, check out their work at http://www.corrugatedcreations.co.nz and for an idea of their Jesus piece check out their Good Shepherd in our NZ photos. Brilliant.

The last 10km before entering Taupo were a real treat and when we arrived we were impressed too. Its pretty stunning with excellent views over the lake. A bit of local knowledge for you: Lake Taupo is in a crater of a volcano, and some of its previous eruptions are the biggest ever (Freddie, feel free to add some specific Geography stats) for example, the last eruption destroyed most of the North Island and was twice the size of the Mt St Helens eruption. Here endeth the lesson for today.

The day we arrived coincided with the beginning of a cycling event and clearly their hard graft left a mark on us because we decided to sign-up for the Tongariro Alpine Crossing the next day. Its a beast of a trek, 19km in total, and considered the best trek in NZ. I don't walk fast and I don't really walk far (God bless the car), however, I'd put on a few pounds in Australia and I love a challenge. After all her running Chloe was as fit as a butcher's dog so no hesitation from her either. I confess that at this point I omitted to tell her about a friend of mine who had fallen down the volcano, breaking numerous bones, been airlifted to hospital, on this very trek, and in his own words “left a part of his brain on the mountain”. The outcome for us was gratefully very different. If I describe it in detail you'll get bored of the usual hyperbole so lets just say it was a highlight of our trip so far. Completed in 6 hours flat.

Taupo was a good place, with more than its fair share of thermal activity so we dutifully went to a thermal park to check out what all the fuss is about. There was plenty of steaming water, bubbling mud and the like and it made a nice walk too but thats perhaps being a bit generous to the overall appeal of the place.

Similarly, Yuka falls, another local attraction that was just about worth a look. Apologies for the lack of enthusiasm - it's our own fault. The problem is our standards are now set incredibly high and they have become pretty unaccommodating to the supporting artists of the tourism trade. Lord only knows what kind of reception the Kew Bridge Steam Museum (with their finest collection of stationary steam pumping engines in the world) would receive if we were to pop in back home. Apologies to our reading steam enthusiasts. So you should probably take my views on the thermal park and Yuka falls with a pinch of salt.

Next stop Wellington for the ferry to the South Island. We did one night in Wellington and I think it is probably a good town – we didn't stop to explore as our schedule was unforgiving and NZ cities aren't internationally renowned. On the other hand, throw in some corrugated iron and it could have been a different story.

Auckland & Bay of Islands

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:14:00 GMT

Auckland

We arrived in New Zealand in the middle of a torrential downpour that didn't really stop all night. Already feeling slightly anxious about the campervan I had been talked into hiring for our three and a half weeks travelling through the country, the grey skies and rain did little to appease these feelings. Matt, on the other hand, was feeling thoroughly pleased with himself. He had got chatting to the woman sat next to him on the plane, while I watched Mama Mia, and it turned out she was Dan Carter's aunt (He is a New Zealand Rugby player for those of you that don't know – of little interest to me but very exciting if you like rugby apparently). Or so she said, she may just have been a crazy lady, but she did give us some great tips for our onward journey.

Only having an evening and half a day in Auckland meant that there was little time for anything other than a quiet dinner that first night and picking up few bits and bobs the next day before heading back towards the airport to collect the campervan. I therefore can't say we were overly enamoured with the place but we did meet some incredibly friendly New Zealanders in that short time, which was a sign of what was to come. The campervan.

Ah, the campervan. On first sight of what was to be our home for the next three and a half weeks my spirits were instantly lifted. It was REALLY clean, inside and out! It had everything you could possibly need, all crammed into the back of a ford transit van – quite amazing really. There was a sink, a grill, two hobs, pans, plates, glasses, a loo and a long seat that opened out into a bed. The bed was actually bigger than those in lots of the hostels we've stayed in so Matt was overjoyed. So, after a through induction on how to use everything, a discussion over insurance (we didn't go for full windscreen cover – why would we......that decision was going to come back and bite us....), a final check over the vehicle and a “honk honk”, we were on our way to Bay of Islands!

Bay of Islands

We arrived in the little town of Russell in Bay of Islands for our first night in the 'Turnham Team Bus' (Turnham over equals Matt's football team, the name was somehow derived from that....!). Russell is gorgeous! It's a really quaint little town with a great pub, pretty houses and buildings and a really friendly atmosphere. We were staying in a really spacious campsite, about 5 minutes drive outside the town, which was virtually empty whilst we were there so it was very peaceful.

The scenery as we drove up to Bay of Islands was stunning and gave us our first real taster of the sights we would see as we travelled through the country. Russell is set in beautiful countryside next to the sea, but unless you're doing a tour there's not much to do. We did go for a walk past a flagstaff that had some interesting history.....but it escapes me right now. Russell is one of the many places in NZ that offers 'swimming with dolphins' or 'dolphin spotting' tours. We both really wanted to swim with dolphins but decided to wait until later in the trip. Instead we decided to do a boat tour that takes you round the sights, but will veer off to see dolphins if they get a radio announcement to say they've been spotted – which luckily for us did happen on this trip.

We boarded the boat, on what I must say was a fairly grey and chilly day, with about 30 OAPs. Now I don't want to be rude about the older generation because, although slow and dangerous behind the wheel, they do still serve a purpose, but please picture this scene every time it was announced that there were dolphins visible: hoardes of old people pushing and shoving their way to the side of the boat, pretending they don't know they've stepped on your shin, whilst loudly discussing the merits of their different cameras or shouting words of encouragement to each other such as, “wonderful Elsie, aren't you good at this” or “Did you get it Gerald? Oh you missed, try again”. Not quite the serene experience I'd had in mind.

However, luck was on our side. Matt and I, by chance, went and stood at the back of the boat where there were about two other people. All of a sudden we realised we were being followed by a pod of 3 dolphins, two big and one small (I like to think it was a family). These dolphins were literally surfing in our wake, it was incredible. They had no reason to be doing that other than for pure fun. So much fun in fact that the little one did this amazing dive out of the water, made a huge arc, before giving a little flick and going back in. Somehow Matt managed to catch it all on camera using the flicker device – he was really in the good books! I should just mention the 'hole in the rock' which is literally a giant hole that has been naturally created in the rocks. It is big enough to fit a boat through, although this was a slightly hairy experience.

It wasn't all plain sailing in Russell however. On our second night in the bus we were settling ourselves into bed for the night when a loud, flushing sound started emanating from the 'bathroom'. I stood stock still in my customary panic mode whilst Matt made a heroic leap from the bed to attend to the situation. The loo was basically continuously flushing itself, for no apparent reason, which would ultimately result in the holding tank overflowing. You can imagine what that would look like. However, Matt rescued the situation with his quick thinking by jumping out of the bus and removing the holding tank, trying not to get covered in wee in the process.

Meanwhile .3,000 mossies saw the light and decided to make a break for it and started dive bombing into the loo cubicle. At this point I finally gained enough composure to slam the door on them. To receive the final feather in his cap, Matt Dundee returned to the bus and set about decapitating those suckers with a tea towel. It was a total massacre. So, slightly earlier than we would perhaps have liked, we left the lovely Russell to get the van fixed en route to Taupo, our next destination.

I should just mention 'Sheepworld', our campsite for the night. It's a working farm – sheep shearing demos being a popular favourite – that had some very cute camping spots, each with its own bathroom. There were lots of random animals everywhere, many of which are tame. It was lovely.

Sydney & The Blue Mountains

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:11:00 GMT

We tried to take a budget flight from Byron Bay to Sydney but Australia had had a bit of rain and the runway had warped (Australias version of leaves on the line?) so we were driven by bus to Surfers Paradise to get a replacement plane. We had some time to kill so we went for a little wander, Chloe even got a haircut.

My old mate Duncs picked Chloe and I up from Sydney airport. He and his wife, Claire, had moved to Sydney a few months previous – a sad loss for London not that you find them shedding any tears – and they were already lapping up the Aussie lifestyle i.e. hitting the beach after work, regular barbecues, a summer...

We had a great time staying with Duncs and Claire, it was great to see them for a start – the first familiar faces seen for 3 months – and they really looked after us. Duncs had a Huntsman spider, the big ones, in his garden. He calls it Fat Tony. We used to check on it every night. Duncs and Claire also got an official pet in the form of a puppy, called Winston, who was great fun to play around with.

Their house is in the Paddington area and located conveniently, for Duncs, between two pubs, The London & The Grand National. Its a nice neighbourhood close to Centennial Park which is typically Australian with its bizarre array wildlife. Its also a 10 minute drive to some of Sydney's finest beaches. So that's; pubs – tick; parks – tick; beaches – tick. Good work.

We had some other friends to catch up with in Sydney: Helen (uni mate) and Blair (school mate). One weird Sunday afternoon in The Grand National I called Helen to arrange to meet her and discovered that she not only lived on the same road as Duncs and Claire but opposite the pub. A few drinks later and Blair walks through the door. An amazing coincidence – we didn't even have to leave the street to see everyone. We met up with them a few times before we left Sydney and one each occasion it was great to see them. Andy and Vicky, from the Whitsunday Islands sailing trip, also live in Sydney and we shared a nice catch-up lunch with them too. All in all a very social Sydney.

We gave the city a good explore too. We ticked off all the main sights; went to the aquarium, did the bridge climb and walked the the coastal path with all its associated bays and beaches. We hired a car too and went out of town for a few days to see the Blue Mountains. We'd heard a lot of good things about them and they lived up to the hype. Awesome views into the canyon. Whilst there we did a trek along this path that was like walking onto the set of I'm a Celebrity... it was brilliant.

Before returning to Sydney we headed to Jenolan Caves, the world's largest limestone caves. I wont bore you with the details but if you're in the area make sure you pay them a visit. Back in Sydney we saw the latest Bond film and cooked Duncs and Claire a thank-you meal (spag bol – a bit too bacony if I remember correctly). We owe them a great deal for looking after us so well – they both put a lot of time and effort into making sure our time in Sydney was all it could be. And they succeeded, our time with them is a highlight of our travels. Hopefully, we can repay Duncs, Claire & Fat Tony the favour back in Chiswick.

Noosa & Byron Bay

matt_and_mercaders — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 22:06:00 GMT

Noosa was a nice place. We stayed in a good hostel near a typically huge beach and ate at a restaurant that had these incredible lamb and mint pizzas (see Travel Notes: Incredible Food). It was a great place to hang out and get some beach time – remember India hadn't delivered in this area and the weather in Port Douglas was a bit grey. Of all the places we went in Australia Noosa had the most appeal Chiswick-on-Sea.

Aside from walking the headland (this was a coastal path that went past small coves, limitless flora and fauna and, most excitingly, a nudist beach) our days were not particularly laden with activities. We did, however, take a trip to Australia Zoo – Steve Irwin's family zoo.

This is a real highlight – simply one of the best things to do in Australia. The zoo is so well set up that it doesn't feel like a typical zoo. The animal handlers walk around with various creatures for you to stroke, hold and learn about (Chloe again on hand to meet and greet). The kangaroo and koala enclosures are highlights.

In total we must have spent an hour with the kangaroos alone. There are loads of lizards milling about, just wandering around the visitors. The first time we saw one we assumed it had escaped. It turns out they're wild but the zoo is a cool place for them to hang out. They like it there. Imagine that at Chester Zoo – shall we agree on ten minutes before some kid has a got one in his hands trying to force feed it a Magnum?

So that was Australia Zoo and Noosa.

We moved on from there looking forward to Byron Bay as we'd heard so many positive things about it. The accommodation we booked was fantastic. It was a hell of a walk into town but worth it . It kind of reminded me of how Dad used to park ' miles out of Shrewsbury so we could get free parking. Talking of free, their breakfasts were amazing. I don't go in for muesli but I had this home made stuff everyday – I developed this love affair and got so into it I started throwing banana, honey and natural yoghurt in too. Took the raisins out obviously. Yep, I had a breakfast changing moment in that hostel.n Never before had I strayed from my staple: 3 cups of coffee and the sweeter offerings from Kellogg's.

If you look at Byron Bay on a map it bears a striking similarity to Noosa. Two great beaches with a national park headland in between. The towns couldn't be more different though. We struggled for decent affordable places to eat in Bryon Bay. You either went for the food that over the course of five days would kill you or the better options. So we alternated. On a positive note Chloe discovered that she does like sushi.

Whilst in Bryron Bay it is law to pay a visit to a town called Nimbin. It was a hotspot for hippies in the 60's and now, like a controlled experiment, you can go back and see how they turned out by visiting there little town. Most backpackers go there to buy weed – which is easy to achieve from the endless supply of crusty Nimbians who approach you as you get out of the minibus. Whilst in town we popped into the Museum of Marijuana (have you built a picture of Nimbin yet?) , and bought a chicken wrap that was awful I went on to supplement it with the worlds largest bowl of potato wedges.

The minibus driver had promised a tour if we wanted it and on our fourth walk of the 'high' street we decided this might be a drug free way of killing some time. The bus driver/ guide took us around three spots of 'interest'; an alternative energy company, a candle factory and natural rock formation that the aboriginals considered sacred – and what drew the hippies there in the first place. I played the model tudent during the tour:

Me: That was interesting, what did he say about the thermal generator that...

Chloe: I DONT care

We also bought a candle at, you guessed it, the candle factory. On the way back, on the outskirts of Byron Bay, the driver announced: “at the end of this journey the local police sometimes like to give us a little greeting party so if anyone made any 'special' purchases and would like to get off early please let me know”

Half the bus got off.

We did further walking in Byron Bay, again around the headland (no nudists) and down the beaches. We got lost this time so ended up walking the second furthest of my life (first place: when Gran took her grandchildren on a nice day out at Brown Moss – circa 1986 – and forgot where she parked the car). Other events worth a mention; the fruit bats are ridiculously big swooping around; a rainy night in watching Midsomer Murders and a morning comforting our hostel receptionist. She had accidentally received an email, intended for the owners of the hostel that included some pretty derogatory things said about her, from her boss. Endless tears.

Great Barrier Reef & Whitsunday Islands

matt_and_mercaders — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 05:45:00 GMT

When we landed in Australia we had passed through Europe, survived Egypt, experienced India and explored Hong Kong – so it was quite odd arriving somewhere with no significant cultural or language differences from home.

Which was a great relief.

Cairns was the first stop, an unremarkable place with enough tour agents to sink a jolly roger booze cruise. We spent a few days there doing some planning but Cairns will be remembered for a phone call we received from Amy and Andy: she called in the early hours of Australian morning to give us the outstanding news that she was pregnant. I offered congratulations and, if its a boy, Matt as a suitable name for the unborn tot and then drifted back to sleep.

Port Douglas was our next port of call and it was a great little town. Huge beach and nice high street but quite upmarket so not typical backpacker territory – we loved it. As well as a marathon planning session (in an internet cafe with world beating ice cream shop attached – Honeycomb and Boysenberry varieties our personal favourites) and a few trips to the beach we did our Great Barrier Reef trip from Port Douglas (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Barrier_Reef).

Taking this trip from Port Douglas gave us a bit more freedom from the crowds of Cairns. Our Gap Year friends carefully negotiated the next great threat to our G-Bar-Reef experience was our old foe, the weather. Apparently, it affects the visibility – rendering the whole thing pointless – and provides a choppy and uncomfortable ride out there to boot.

We held out for two days because of the weather, however, with bus and accommodation commitments coming up we had to bite the bullet. As it turned out, delaying a few days paid off and the weather was great. At the first two reef stops we did some snorkeling around the coral reef, which had been preceded by a briefing on what we might expect to see. That was pretty amazing – our first experience of tropical fish and coral up close – you could spend hours drifting around.

The third trip was the best. We split into two groups and went on a snorkelling tour of the reef with a guide. He would dive to the bottom, pick up a sea cucumber or something equally odd, bring it to the surface, pass it around (Chloe loves this bit) and tell us all about it. There was also this Rainbow fish called Maurice who was a bit of a pet of the trip staff. They feed Maurice every time they go to the reef and in return he swims around allowing tourists to touch him (enter Chloe stage left). We loved this trip.

We left Port Douglas to return to Cairns in a mini-bus run by a rafting company. The driver was a bit mental. He was a big fan of thrash metal, not looking at the road, shouting and looking a bit disturbed. Alive and unwell we had time to kill so we went and saw a movie (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) before jumping on the late bus to Airlie Beach.

Long journey bus drivers are worth a mention. They are a curious bunch - one part anger, one part bitterness, topped up with the unique Aussie sense of humour. Some examples: the Airlie Beach driver gave us a 5 minute dressing down before the bus had even left the station. With the exception of Chloe sitting in the wrong seat (an offense that make his face turn purple with rage) it was a little early in our journey for anger. It seemed as though he was so scarred from his previous experiences that the talk was necessary Lines like “I don't get paid to pick up your rubbish” and sitting in the wrong seat is a waste of my time and yours” lack the welcoming spirit of “welcome aboard and thank-you for traveling with us”.

Another character insisted on saying “right, lets get out of here, i am sick of this place already” after every stop. It was kind of like his catchphrase.He liked a lecture too: ”let me tell you story about a someone who stretched out to sleep leaving their legs streched out across the aisle. Well when another passenger tried to climb across those legs at the same time as the bus stopping suddenly he got both his legs broken. Don't stretch your legs across the aisle”.

Anyway, I digress. Arriving in Airlie we checked into our digs, booked our Whitsunday Islands sailing trip (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitsunday_Islands) and have a look around. A bit like Cairns has the requisite 2000 tour operators and a lagoon. These are quite popular – they landscaped outdoor pool for people to congregate at in the absence of a beach.

The Whitsunday Islands are amazing. We delayed booking our boat because we had some good advice from my mate Dave who rightly said don't bother unless you get the weather. You really do need the weather for this one. We got to our base for the trip, Airlie Beach, got the weather report and immediately booked our boat. She was a belter of a boat too. The Getaway catamaran. Only 8 on board and we got a great deal because we booked last minute. When we got on board we met a couple honeymooning and we realised we'd really lucked-out.

As it turns out the newly wed groom was Australia's number one Bryan Adams impersonator. Is he any good? Judge for yourself: http://www.myspace.com/heavenbryanadamstributeshow. He also looked like Chloe's sister's boyfriend Clive. Separated at birth to be honest. Even the mannerisms and personality. Uncanny.

Andy and Vicky were another couple on the Getaway. They had great chat so we liked them too. So much so we met them in Sydney later on our trip. Vicky's parents made up the remaining passengers and all-in-all we had a great group to be spending our trip with.

The trip was a leisurely cruise around the islands taking in the classic sights of Whitehaven Beach (ridiculously stunning), a bit of snorkelling around some reef and parking up the boat in some secluded bays at night. We sat around sharing stories, drinking, and generally having a great time. Bryan Adams came into his own in the evenings. A great Aussie character, he was great value on the boat. As well as sharing some anecdotes about deaths from dangerous Aussie critters he got me quite excited about seeing some fruitbats. An all round asset to our trip no doubt about it.

Highlight of the trip came on the final day when we stopped for some snorkeling at a sand reef and swam with a turtle for a bit. Its quite weird when you come across things like turtles in their natural habitat. I saw a stingray swim past and was quite proud but the turtle find by Mercaders took the biscuit. She had hoped we would do this at some point on our travels so for it to happen here was amazing. She loves turtles.

Next stop Noosa Heads.

Hong Kong

matt_and_mercaders — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 05:42:00 GMT

Arriving in Hong Kong airport was like arriving on a different planet after India. It is the most impressive airport Ive ever seen, so modern and efficient looking and absolutely spotless. I think by the time we were aboard the 3-stop train that took us right to where we needed to go, wed already decided we loved Hong Kong.

And things just got better. Wed decided to give ourselves a little treat and book ourselves a hotel for the few days we were there, but obviously the budget needed to be taken into consideration so we used lastminute.com. Well Hotel Jen turned out to be a real find! We had somehow ended up, quite legitimately, with this Executive deal which entitled us to free internet in the room and up to 100$HK worth free from the mini bar. It also included a cooked breakfast up in the special Sky Lounge – it gives a great view out over the city.

On top of this, we were invited to spend two hours each evening in said sky lounge, guzzling delicious free cocktails, made to order! Oh and little Chinese nibbles too. The waitress would even come up to our table, ten minutes before the two hours ended, and tell us to get our last order in before time was up. So there we were, two slightly weary travellers, with only 2 outfits to our name, mixing with the execs up in the Sky Lounge.

On our first night we headed out to the area of Lan Kwai Fong and Soho for some food. Id like to say we got straight into the new culture and had a delicious authentic Chinese meal. But that would be a lie because in actual fact we were both desperate for a bloody burger and chips, with Mayo! It was a Saturday and the whole area was buzzing and there was a really good atmosphere, it really wasn't dissimilar from being out in London. We went to a bar and had a couple of cocktails and basically just drank in the atmosphere of a really cool city.

Due to aforementioned budget, we had to think of ways of exploring this city without it costing too much. So we armed ourselves with our free guides and headed out the door and spent the next four days walking everywhere, or getting the occasional subway (SO efficient).

We took the subway over to the Island of Kowloon. We did two separate walks here over the days. One takes you through the old part of the island and some areas of it are quite run down. Its also full of markets, and not just for material items – there was a Goldfish market and a Bird Garden (but really a market selling birds), a flower market and a jade market. Jade is actually very popular in Hong Kong and its an old tradition to carry it on your person as they believe it protects us. Apparently. Basically everybody has now cottoned on to this and are selling all kinds of bits and bobs made with jade, or rather different materials masquerading as jade. The market was full of the stuff but there is a street, Jade Street in fact, where there are some shops selling legitimate jade for a high price.

The second walk we did in Kowloon was in a much more modern part of the Island. There are some huge, incredible shopping malls and designer shops (only window shopping for us though!). We saw the clock tower and also walked down the Avenue of Stars – not many I knew but still stars. We caught the Star Ferry back to Hong Kong Island.

The rest of our exploration saw us having a great time on and around Hong Kong Island. We went up the Worlds longest covered escalator in Soho and visited the Man Mo Temple, where there were a lot of shrines and lanterns burning. We went on the Peak tram up to the Peak Tower Sky Terrace. You can basically look out at the best views of the city. The Peak tram is a tad hairy as it takes you up an incline so steep that buildings look like they are leaning at a 45 degree angle.

I must just talk about the plane check in system in Hong Kong for those of you that don't know about it. On our last day we checked out of the hotel and got a short cab ride directly to the central train station. Here we queued for all of 5 minutes before being very efficiently checked in for our pm flight. Off went the bags and all we had to do was spend a leisurely afternoon in Hong Kong before heading out to the (super cool) airport and calmly going through security and boarding our flight to Australia. Really, it was that easy.

Oh there was just one more stop – to the M&S food market! Seriously, we were so excited – that will be a bag of American style chocolate covered peanuts, a packet of chocolate Viennese biscuits...

Alleppey, Goa & Mumbai

matt_and_mercaders — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 12:14:00 GMT

Alleppey

The reason for going to Alleppey is to take a houseboat trip around the backwaters. It’s a top activity to tick off when you’re in the Kerala region of India. And to be fair it lived up to the hype. You have to be fairly relaxed by the time you get on the houseboat though because it’s a pretty laid back experience i.e. uneventful, so if this is your first stop from Terminal 5 you´re going to struggle.

We went for a 2 day cruise. The boat was a recommendation (and a belter). This boat had everything on board – en suite bedroom, kitchen and lounge with TV and DVD. The lounge had two recliners looking out in the direction of travel. The 3 staff, for just Chloe and I, bring you food and drink every hour or two so all you have to do is sit back and soak up the surroundings. It’s sort of luxury but, being India and all that, not quite. Kind of like sipping champagne out of a beer can.

To paint a picture the surroundings include – locals having their morning washes in the water, passing through remote villages, beautiful scenery, little boats paddling past with varying contents. And that´s it. It sounds quite mad and it is really. It is simply very peaceful and relaxing. At night we pulled up next to this little house where there were loads of puppies playing by the waters edge. When they finally stopped yapping Chloe made me go and check they hadn´t drowned. True story.

Goa

After disembarking ´Sprite´ we got a taxi back to Cochin to get a train (yesss!) to Palolem beach in Goa. Most reports about Goa from fellow travelers had been unsympathetic. 3 weeks prior to our arrival all the unlicensed properties along the beach front had been bulldozed by the council - an annual occurrence by all accounts that left the place looking like a cyclone had hit it. When we got there, Palolem beach version 6 was well under construction. I don´t know if the licenses to sell booze are hyper-restrictive or if they just love to build?

Palolem beach had all the trademark features. A perfect slice of sand, gawkers and covert undercover photographers. On top of that, a little bit of Bank Farm, some cows wandering amongst us. Weird. Despite the home comforts of the cows we didn´t rate Palolem. Our accommodation was rubbish, food options a bit weak and the aforementioned beach, well, you know by now. Also, the end was nigh. Next stop Mumbai and then Hong Kong. We´d been to Mumbai so we knew the drills there and frankly we were excited by Hong Kong. We did, however, have a great incident on the way back to Goa train station…

Palolem beach was 45 mins from Goa station. Getting on this train was crucial if we were to make the next leg of our travels onto Hong Kong. Getting flights and trains that match at shortish notice is virtually impossible so if we missed it we were stuck in India. The taxi picked us up at 6.45am and seemed intent on taking us to the airport instead of the train station. I think we had just about got through to the driver that we needed the train station but, alas, we weren't to find out. His car breathed its last breath on that journey, slowing to a standstill, 20 minutes from Goa station.

In what has now become an oft-quoted saying, the driver uttered the immortal word “problem”. At this point we panicked thinking that we were heading for a 2 week Indian extension. He saw this in our faces and quickly hailed a rickshaw to pull over. It wasn't a taxi rickshaw but one adapted to carry tools, stock boxes, maybe livestock. He wasn't even a taxi driver. Our driver successfully persuaded this random chap to take us to the station. I loaded our backpacks and Chloe into the back of this contraption and we were off.

I have to admit, it was hilarious. Every bike and car that overtook us did a double-take. Two white tourists hanging out the back of this Indian bloke's rickshaw. We looked ridiculous. Then he drops us right at the entrance of the train station. A flock (official term) of Indian folk staring as we awkwardly climbed out the back of his motor. In terms of jaw-dropping weird entrances this one is only rivaled by the time my dad dropped me off at cubs in a tractor. We made the train.

Mumbai

Oddly, we were glad to be back in Mumbai. The hotel that we thought was gross first time round had a homely familiarity. We knew our way around the Colaba area and we got to hang out at Leopolds again. We were in Mumbai for one night so we spent a lot of time there, hanging around, venturing out simply to buy the odd stone carved elephant (p&p 400% greater than the cost of the elephant) and going to the Cathay Pacific offices to sort out an issue with our tickets. Mumbai was beginning to get into our blood. A month later there was all the bombings around Colaba including attacks on Leopolds itself (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopold_Cafe).

So next stop Hong Kong – what a city – but not before one final escapade en route to Mumbai airport. We should have known, but we didn´t, there was a hindu festival happening and we got stuck in the middle of it. And by the middle of it I mean the middle of it. Lorries filled with people, costumes, papier-mâché deities, music blaring from speakers. Our taxi didn´t move an inch for half an hour as this procession worked its way around us. You obviously know we made it on time so I´ll spare you any more melodrama.

TRAVEL NOTES: The Journey to Cochin was the Worst Journey of my Life

matt_and_mercaders — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 15:22:00 GMT

Rickshaw – Train – Train – Rickshaw – Taxi – Taxi – Train – Rickshaw – Ferry – Rickshaw (29 hours)

The above summary breaks down the only way we could get to Cochin. The reason was typically Indian so I will spare you the details. What happened en route is far more interesting anyway.

It began at 6 am in Hampi. The rickshaw driver didn't show up. Probably so affronted that I had negotiated him down to 20p he'd decided it wasn't worth it. Luckily, Restaurant-Gopi rang Rickshaw-Gopi and we were on our way. The next two trains were uneventful. The usual shenanigans on Indian Rail but nothing out of the ordinary. We got off the second train at 8pm in an insanely remote town called Birur – we were 14 hours in. This is when things got weird.

No trains from here so we had to resort to a taxi for what should have been a 2 hour drive to Mangalore. Here we were supposedly going to spend the night before carrying on our journey. No sign of any taxis at Birur station. We're hussled into a rickshaw and driven to a taxi rank. As soon as we got out of the rickshaw a gaggle of taxi drivers surrounded us. Its really dark and foreign and frankly a bit unsettling. And so the negotiation begins.

It was a strange scene. Two white English tourists facing 8-10 male Indian taxi drivers (they were working as a team so my usual trick of playing one off another was useless) trying to work out a deal. Once that was struck the atmosphere instantly changed and they turned into their alter ego - ultra friendly Indians. They get all fascinated by you, all trying to carry your bags for you, opening doors for you. There was some lively banter as they worked out who was the most suitable driver in the group to take us the distance. The significance of this banter was soon to be realised. This was not a journey for an amateur.

The road was a shambles as soon as we set off. I am not exaggerating when I tell you we were grinding to a near halt every 50 metres to negotiate huge holes in the surface. The map showed the distance to go as roughly 2-3 hours. It was going to be a long journey if the quality of the road carried on like this...

And it did. For 7 hours. The reasons for the staggering amount of time it took us from start to finish is threefold. One – the road did not improve. Stop, start, stop, start, stop, start, you get the picture; two – what appeared a relatively easy stretch of road on the map was actually a mountain. No indication of this on the map of course. Endless winding bends (and stopping of starting) and 10 metre visibility thrown into the bargain because now we're in the clouds. Three – when we got there the driver didn't know Mangalore from Manchester.

(Further reasons include; the driver stopping for some food “last chance before mountain – no turning back”; the driver getting out to pray to the mountain Gods at a shrine; and the road only being wide enough for one and a half vehicles so when buses and trucks came careering towards us priority goes to the biggest vehicle i.e. not us. The driver played a dangerous game of chicken on every occasion. Terrifying.)

In Managalore we stopped 3 times to ask for directions. First guy – no idea. Next up, two lads who were fascinated by Chloe (being a white girl) who used the time when the driver was asking them for directions by staring through the back window at her. I wound up the window. Undeterred, they changed tack and peered through the front passenger seat window to get a better look. I shined my torch in their eyes. Their little squinting faces is a memory I will cherish forever. The third and final time we pulled up next to another two lads. They were typically passionate, in an Indian way, about getting us to our destination. So persistent were they that they insisted on getting in the taxi with us and accompanying us to the hotel. When they opened the back door they saw Chloe (a white girl) for the first time so panicked and instead chose – both of them – to sit in the front passenger seat rather than use the ample room around us in the back. Amazing scenes at this stage as Chloe and I sit in the back whilst 3 Indian men crammed into the front of our taxi animatedly direct us towards our hotel.

'The Journey' had left just enough time for 2 hours kip before our early morning train to Cochin. Of course, we overslept - luckily by only 25 minutes. The next half hour of will-we, wont-we make the train was pretty fraught. Mangalore is not a city to be stuck in. We made it and, after arriving we had one final kick 'em while they're down incident - our rickshaw driver wouldn't take us to our destination (a trait we're now seeing the world over). Every place we wanted to stay was either full, closed for refurbishment or permanently shut. Resistance is futile - and it genuinely is with these guys - so we settled for a nice little venue recommended by our lying driver where he could earn a few pence comission. We had a few further incidents with this very same rickshaw driver over the next few days, but these tales can wait for another day. So that's it. 29 hours.

Cochin, Kovalam & Varkala

matt_and_mercaders — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 14:55:00 GMT

The journey to Cochin was the worst journey of my life (see Travel Notes: The journey to Cochin was the worst journey of my life). Cochin was a stop-over before heading to the beach towns of Kovalam and Varkala. It was really to break up our journey so we weren't that fussed with it. A short ferry ride took us to the smartest place we had been in India so it grabbed our attention immediately. The rick-shaw driver wouldn't take us to our accommodation (normal) so eventually settled on a place he would take us to. It was nice.

Not a lot to report from Cochin. We saw some Chinese fishing nets, bought some books, visited Jew Town, negotiated the purchase of a stone carved elephant for half an hour and had a run in with the rickshaw driver from the previous day (liar). We also ate at a swanky Relais and Chateaux restaurant on a McDonald's budget of £14. Bargain.

And onto the beach towns. Quite excited by this. We'd been travelling for 2 months with no real beach time to report. So it was with some regret that we rolled into Kovalam. What a scummy little place. Rubbish everywhere, diggers putting drainage pipes along the beach and a rickshaw driver who wouldn't take us to our accommodation. We couldn't really wait to get away from Kovalam so we reworked our plans to get onto Varkala sooner. As soon as we had done this we began to relax. We had two awesome early morning breakfasts looking out over the sea and a few reasonable evening meals. I cannot recall the events between these two highlights so I guess my brain has deleted them. They probably involved plenty of moaning about India and Lonely Planets description of Kovalam: “a pristine slice of sand”. Probably written by a rickshaw driver.

In Varkala things began to look up. But not before I had dragged Chloe on a treacherous route around the beach town (with her massive rucksack) looking for accommodation. Varkala is a town on a cliff edge with the beach below. I found a path from the beach up the cliff. Over half way up, the climb became dangerous, and as Chloe was carrying a bag bigger than her entire body I decided to bail out. Thats when two young Indian lads saw our plight, ran down to us, grabbed our bags and ran to the top. You get this in India, you're busy being angry at how infuriating they can be when they show unbelievable generosity to challenge your opinion of them. The lads worked at the bar/restaurant on the cliff edge and we repaid their kindness by going there every night.

Incredible nights we had there too.

Their bar opens at 7am and at about 10pm the dancing starts and continues until the sun comes up. The guys we met there seemingly get 2-3 hours 'sleep' a night. In those 2-3 hours they are in the company of any female tourist they can pick up. They are big characters in Varkala. We met up with Alison (from Hampi) who introduced us to Ashley and Jason. We also bumped into a kiwi couple, Andy and Donna, who we had briefly met in Hampi. Together we got very drunk and danced away with our Indian friends to 90's European dance music. One Indian was in his element. He was demonstrating some incredible moves for hours on end. None of us had ever seen anything like it. Not even me. It was a memorable night.

We loved Vakala. It was a very relaxed place. We could have spent more time there. We didn't go in the sea in Kovalam or Varkala though. The sea is rough with dangerous rips and Indian men (gawkers) stand around staring at white girls in bikinis. Sometimes trying to take a quick picture too. Its wrong, but you get used to it. I didn't but most people do. We also spent an afternoon using the pool of a 5 star hotel. A great tip picked up from Alison, Ashley and Jason.

Finally, some classic (and cringey) traveller chat, the sunsets and night time star shows in both Kovalam and Varkala were incredible.

Mumbai, Hampi & Hyderabad

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 13:05:00 GMT

Mumbai – Hyderabad – Hampi

As we touched down in Mumbai it dawned, on me anyway, that the section of our trip that I had perceived to be our first big challenge (clearly I hadn't put enough thought into what Egypt would be like) had arrived. With the advise of many running through our heads (don't touch the water, always make sure your hands are clean, don't ever put your fingers in your mouth, careful what you eat etc) we made our way through the dimly lit, and somewhat depressing, airport out to catch our first glimpse of India. The scene of chaos which greeted us, cars darting around, horns honking, taxi drivers shouting, near miss running over incidents – all this considering it was about 4am - did little to disperse any anxieties. Of course Matt was grinning and finding it all fantastically exciting. The near death trip to the hotel in Colaba gave us our first shocking sights of the slums and more poverty stricken areas of the city but the sight of a battered, skinny dog cowering at the side of the road just about finished me off and I spent the rest of the journey with my eyes closed. But that's the thing about India. It's a completely different culture, it's like nothing we'd ever experienced before and although I can't say I ever got used to the sight of desperately poor looking animals everywhere, or indeed the many other incredulous sightings that you will hear about, I came to accept it as part of a culture that I couldn't help but be charmed by and that I certainly grew to respect many aspects of

We spent that first day acquainting ourselves with Mumbai, and it is a CRAZY city! There are people everywhere – market stall holders bombarding the many tourists to look at their stuff, bedraggled children begging, women dressed in colourful saris.... one sight that really sticks in our minds is of one of the afore mentioned women, rooting around in the back of a dumpster truck. And then there's the traffic. Roads are gridlocked, mainly with taxis, horns are a constant noise for no apparent reason, rickshaws darting about, public buses with people hanging off the back or jumping out while it's moving. There are new and different smells everywhere from delicious curry, roadside snacks, herbs and spices, poo, wee, rubbish. It's a massive sensory overload and yet we were surprised at how much we enjoyed the atmosphere and how comfortable we felt there. Everybody we met was friendly and although the market stall holders didn't let you pass without trying to make a sale, they always did it with a smile on their face and a hint of amusement in their eyes......there was definitely a feeling of fun. Something everybody is told to do in Mumbai is visit Leopolds cafe and it didn't disappoint. Full to bursting most of the time with both tourists and locals alike, it had a buzzing, welcoming atmosphere that instantly made us feel, if not quite at home, as this would be impossible in a place so fundamentally different, then accepted and comfortable. And it was our first experience of real Indian cuisine......let's just say we enjoyed some amazing curries there over the next couple of days.

We also visited Elephanta Island whilst in Mumbai (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elephanta_Island). A somewhat treacherous ferry ride saw us there and back, claiming many seasick casualties along the way. We were taken round old temples with ancient carvings inside, depicting the unique symbols of the Hindu religion. I can't really expand on this anymore as I could only understand about one in every 20 words that our guide was saying, and Matt can't help me as, although he did a good job of pretending to understand, when I came to ask him to fill me in, he was unable to do so. Therefore, the highlight for us had to be the monkeys! There were loads of them just roaming around including some tiny little babies, it was hilarious. Oh, and this was also our first experience of having our photo taken by Indians, something which we came across on more than one occasion during our trip.

After a last meal in Leopolds we headed to the station to catch the first of many overnight trains. We were lucky with this first journey as not only had we managed to get into first class (no mean feat as we were to find out later) but we had also been put into a two person carriage. Now, I'm not going to lie and pretend that it was 5 star quality but I certainly felt it was acceptable – if I only knew what future conditions lay ahead! Our final destination was a little place called Hampi but we first had to stop for one night in the city of Hyderabad.

Hyderabad. Not a particularly inspiring name, and not really an inspiring place. It's main claim to fame is that it's a big player on the Bollywood film circuit. Having arrived in the main part of town with its stinky, gridlocked roads and been gawped at by everybody that saw us (including the ones who came over specifically to stare at us) we made our way to the more wealthy part of town where we were staying in Banjara Hills. This was a lot calmer and cleaner but just to put it into perspective, when we arrived a farmer was herding his cows past the front door – imagine a shepherd herding his sheep round the residential streets of Chelsea and you'll see what I mean! One thing that really touched us during our short visit to Hyderabad were the staff at the guesthouse, some of the sweetest, kindest Indian men we were to meet. After helping and assisting us throughout our stay we will never forget the scene as we were leaving when all 7 of them congregated by the taxi to wave us off!

One thing we did attempt to do in Hyderabad was visit a popular market. Disaster. There was a big muslim festival taking place at the same time and, apparently, same place (nobody thought to cancel the market for the day, obviously). The whole place was swarming, our taxi moved no more than one hundred metres in an hour and yet for some reason the taxi driver, who didn't speak english, wouldn't actually let us get out. After much gesticulating and miming we pretty much jumped out to be greeted by complete pandamonian. I won't go into too much detail but some of the things we experienced were: groups of young boys hitting themselves with chains until they bled; religious leaders YELLING through loud speakers; being separated in the swarms of hundreds of people, mainly women, who were just pushing and shoving us out the way and all this whilst being harassed by the stall holders – as if we were going to by anything at this stage, we just wanted to get the hell out of there!

To really put the icing on the cake, it started to really pour on the way back to the guest house and our taxi driver drove through an enormous puddle completely soaking an entire family in a rickshaw. The rickshaw driver was understandably none to pleased and so decided to stop his vehicle in the middle of the busy road and march round to have it out with our driver. Needless to say he didn't open the window but merely sat there looking at him, shrugging apologetically but also not moving. At this stage we were beginning to understand a little more as to why there is so much gridlock on the roads! For the family themselves, this gave them an excellent opportunity to have a good old look at us as they sat there shamelessly staring.

That evening we were back at the station boarding the overnight train for Hampi, for what we hoped would be our first stay in a more rural India and something we were both really looking forward to (dangerous – you never know what you're going to find!). Not so lucky this time, we were in second class sleeper, sharing with 2 other people. The standard of hygiene had dropped somewhat and there were some horrible smells, but luckily for me Matt was still LOVING the train experiences so was happy to prepare my bed for me so that none of me or my clothes actually had to touch anything gross!

The first sight to greet us as we arrived in Hampi was that of the local Indian men, and an enormous elephant, having a good old scrub in the river. Hampi is really a little shanty town so most families live together in one room that has no plumbing system to speak of. The men come down and wash in the river in the mornings whilst the women clean the clothes in it. This does of course mean that they don't have toilets either which explains why we saw so many men and children going to the toilet pretty much wherever they please. As for the elephant, she is Lakshmi the holy elephant who lives in the temple and gets brought down by her keeper every morning for a good wash.

Having read all this you are probably now aware that this wasn't quite the idyllic setting we'd had in mind and what with the mud streets and the cows wandering all over the place, I was pretty subdued. As well as all the locals who live there, Hampi is a popular spot on the traveller trail and so there are a number of little guest houses around, all ranging from about £2 - £4 a night. They are all pretty similar – double bed with river stained sheets, rusty bathroom, a fan and some even have little roof top restaurants attached. We took just such a place in the Gopi Guest house. However this was no ordinary guest house, this was the Gopi empire!! A mix of family members (although all referred to as brothers) take up a range of roles:

- Boss man Gopi
- Restaurant Gopi
- Gopi tours (we must have spent a total of about 8 hours with this guy as he tried to sort out our onward journey)
- Rickshaw Gopi
- Maintenance Gopi (this dude spent a day installing hot water in our bathroom. By this I mean he installed a second shower head! That's right, one to give cold water and one to give hot. We never had to worry about how this would work, we never actually got any hot water.)
- Chef Gopi
- Gopi mother, the original Gopi member.

Boss man Gopi, the actual son of Gopi mother, is basically a local hero. His day starts with an hour long run, followed by two, free, hour long yoga sessions with guests. He then spends an hour or so mingling with guests over breakfast in the roof top restaurant. A visit to the little local school to spend some time with the children comes next – he also regularly visits their parents to try and generate in them some kind of interest in their children's education. He may then spend some time visiting local residents to teach them about basic hygiene and preventions of malaria and other illnesses. He often spends the day at the house he is building, in the perfect setting, in the surrounding countryside. At the end of his day, he pays another visit to the school to carry out an exercise/yoga session with the children. He should be the prime minister.

And despite all earlier reservations, from the first morning we just relaxed and enjoyed being in this little village. Early mornings were spent in the gopi roof top terrace, drinking a mango lassi and smiling into the sun as we looked across at the children in the little school across the mud track. That is a bit of a lie as we did have some pretty heavy rain on a couple of the days we spent there, but it didnt do anything to diminish the charm and laid backness of this place! More often than not, both in the early morning and evening, loads and loads of mokeys would come swinging through the trees and running round on the roof tops, it was hilarious. Oh and Matt got taught the rules of games called caram and kabadi by Chef Gopi and Restaurant Gopi.

Another important hot spot for us was The Mango Tree restaurant which was in the most incredible setting. Its been carved into the hillside, overlooking the river, with split level seating curving all the way round. Everyone just sits on Mats on the floor, at natural wooden hand built tables. In the day the view was gorgeous and in the evening its all lit up by candlelight. The food was absolutely amazing! Its actually illegal to eat meat or drink alcohol in Hampi, but we had some of the most amazing vegetable curries there, plus they had home made houmous! We pretty much lived in this place

We spent two days looking at the ruins which Hampi is known for (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hampi). They were very impressive and all within walking distance in pretty countryside, so it was a nice way to while away some hours. That is until one of our return journeys. We walked round the corner of this track only to be confronted by a half naked (bottom half unfortunately) man, lying on the ground, muttering something incomprehensible (although Matt told me after he thought he was saying “water, water”). We beat a hasty retreat.

Hampi was also where we met Alison who was planning to spend months in India (and by God she did it, I dont know how but she did!). It was so nice to spend some time with someone who had so many travelling experiences and she also gave us some great tips for Hong Kong – dreaming about those cocktails got me through some of the more trying times in India! We were to meet up again with Alison a little further down the line.

But it had to come to an end at some point, although this was about 3 days later than originally planned, and so we were off to Cochin on what was to end up being a fairly epic journey...

TRAVEL NOTES - Cultural Learnings

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 13:01:00 GMT

We've heard some random things whilst travelling. Here are some of the curious things we've picked up.

France: If you lose your driving license you are still allowed on the road if its to drive to work. But if that's too inconvenient you can drive on the road all the time if you buy a car called the Aixam. Incredibly this car doesn't require a driving license.

France: Public toilets are bad because the French don't like the idea of using a toilet away from home.

Italy: Food is served when its ready and not at the same time as your fellow diners. Gets annoying.

France: When you chink glasses when 'cheers-ing' always make eye contact. They even open their eyes extra wide to emphasise the eye contact. Can be unsettling.

Egypt: In the Western Desert there is one policeman for every 10 people who lives there. None of them do much and most are posted to check-points at 50km intervals found in the middle of nowhere. They are supposed to log car and occupant details as you past through so that if you fail to turn up at the next checkpoint within 2 days they can begin their search for you. But this doesn't happen very often so, when they see a foreigner in the car they get all excited and insist on escorting you to the next checkpoint. 'Escorting' means one of two things. Possibility 1 is a police car (full of officers) following behind, possibility 2 one of these officers getting in the taxi with you for the next 40 minutes of your journey.

Egypt: Back on the driving theme, hardly anyone does a driving test is Cairo. They're bought illegally for a few £ in most cases.

India: The 'most dubious brand name of the year' award goes to the bottled water manufacturer Golden Stream.

India: Having your photo taken. Indians love taking your photo. 1 in every 10 photos will be taken with your permission. Degrees of blatancy range from “Chloe, he's lined his mate up in the photo so he can get us in the background” (this becomes quite funny if you're moving because their mate will also move with the camera desperately trying to keep up the pretense) to walking down the beach and a camera pointing right at you. I like to pretend that I'm on a HELLO! photo shoot for these ones.

Australia: Aboriginals have better than 20:20 vision. A great lie, surely?

Hong Kong: Taxi drivers open your door at your destination by pressing a button from where they are sitting. Amazing.

Egypt: Egyptians have a way of counting to 99 using their hands. And its so much more impressive than our 1-10.

New Zealand: North islanders love corrugated iron

Costa Rica: This one is ridiculous. In San Jose, even though the roads are in a simple to use grid system, taxi drivers can only find their destination by landmarks e.g. 500 metres east of the Toyota garage. As you can imagine, this doesn't work well for tourists. Last night we had to take a 200m taxi ride from restaurant to hostel (because the area was dangerous) that took 10 minutes because he didn't know which road he was on the first place - even pointing at a map is pointless. Astonishing.

The World: Local dishes look awful. I have put a photographic example in the gallery named random for anyone who needs convincing...

TRAVEL NOTES - The Joy of Sleeper Trains (Part 2)

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 12:58:00 GMT

I like travelling by train and Indian Rail is no exception. I'm sat on one now and I've just seen 4 kids washing themselves in a river jumping and waving manically at the sight of us. You see some amazing stuff. However, after the comparative luxury of our european sleeper (see The Joy of Sleeper Trains) Indian sleepers make you want to dettol yourself - inside and out.

Before I talk through the odds and sods of our experiences on Indian Rail I should say that we were warned, by at least 2 trustworthy individuals, the only way to travel in this country is in 1^st Class. We've been on 8 significant train journey's (nine hours or more) and this is our breakdown:

1^st Class – 2 times

2^nd Class – 3

3^rd Class – 2

4^th Class – 1...

So we've only got ourselves to blame. That and the fact that trains book up so early in advance that we'd find a waiting list of 40 people for seats on trains we had to get on. The difference in classes comes down to three things; 1) number of people in your carriage 2) cleanliness (what would be the point in cleaning the whole train?) and 3) privacy.

Our time in 4^th class – or sleeper as it is known – was particularly gruesome. For most of that journey the long suffering Chloe bore the expression of someone who had just swallowed a worm. Incidentally, before I forget, and perhaps providing some sort of context, we met this couple and the bloke told me how his girlfriend had instructed him not to go to sleep and watch to his girlfriend throughout the night. That was in 2^nd class.

The actual sleeping part of the journeys has its drawbacks. Some people just go flat out from the start of the journey to the end regardless of time of day. Some opportunists will take a free bed so when you get on – normally in the early hours of the morning – there is some random fella in your bed. And in your fresh sheets too. Nice. When I do get a bed its normally 6 inches too short so my legs stick through the curtain (no walls outside of 1^st) that separates our cabin and the corridor. Most people fail to spot my protruding leg so during the night people are regularly attempting to walk through it. Comfy. Its an experience no doubt about it.

The tea and coffee wallah's are my favourite part of the journey. They're great and generally in good spirits. They scurry around, back and forth, every 2 minutes offering their small cups of deliciously sweetened caffeine goodness. It goes a bit like this. You hear “chai, chai, chai” or “corrfee, corrfee, corrfee” in the distance. By the time they have reached your seat you've heard the chant 20-30 times. Given the regularity of their visits this is the soundtrack to your journey. When they get to you have two choices. One – ignore completely (easiest); two – take a cup at 7p a go; three – politely pass up the brew (error). Any interaction, verbal or non-verbal, is a sign of interest. Their chant takes on an extra dimension.

Wallah: Chai, chai, chai... CHAI?

Me: No thank-you

Wallah: CHAI?

Me: No

Wallah: No Chai?

Me: No

Wallah: Chai?

We've taken on a lot of Indian food on the trains too. Risky but delicious. We met a young Indian lady on one train and she said she never touched the stuff. Made her friend very ill. Here's us, detolling every surface we come into contact with, bottled water everywhere, not touching around our mouths (random tip from an Italian travelling veteran) and here we are scoffing food an Indian wouldn't touch. No guts, no glory my friend.

After finishing one small banquet of Indian train food I took a considerable amount of empty waste packets to the bin in the corridor. I couldn't find it so I asked the ticket conductor. He pointed to a small gap in between two carriages through which I could see daylight and the tracks below. When I appeared reluctant he snatched it and dropped it through the gap. And that's how its done in India.

One final recollection for you in keeping with the theme of unusual Indian behaviour...

On one journey I took a walk to the exit doors to check out the stunning views (many cabin windows have such bad condensation or are so heavily tinted that you cant see a thing) and I saw in the distance what appeared to be a man squat on the side of the tracks. I think you know what he was doing. I thought to myself, silly place to go, what with the trains likely to pass. As we got closer to the squatting man I noticed he was carefully observing folks like me hanging out of the doors. He spotted someone he knew and began waving and smiling vigorously. Whilst he was squat there. Right in the middle of his business.

As I said, stunning views.

Petra

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 12:34:00 GMT

There are plenty of good things to do in Jordan, notably the dead sea, but I wasn't interested in floating about. I wanted to go to Petra. I had become slightly obsessed with Petra since I first saw an image of the Siq in the 1988 edition of Guiness Book of Records (Natural World section). This interest became a fully blown obsession when the Treasury and Siq featured in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I had to go there. So we did.

Petra lived up to my colossal expectations. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petra)

A city carved out of the rock. And the Siq itself – a stunning natural crack/pathway through the rock, providing a perfect 400 metre defence to the Treasury at the other end – was as awesome as I'd hoped. There are loads of buildings carved, including; an amphitheatre, a monastery and one of my personal favourites 'The High Place of Sacrifice'. You climb to the highest point in the mountains and you've got a proper slab of rock solely for the purpose of offering sacrifice to the Gods.

Petra fully deserves to be included in the new list of the 7 wonders of the world.

Western Desert

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 12:25:00 GMT

Having taken just about all that we could of Cairo, it was with a sense of excitement (and renewed hope on my part) that we headed into the Western desert for a little adventure, including a night camping. Our three day get away began in the oasis town of Baharia in the Hot Springs resort (complete with pool filled with water from a natural hot spring), run and owned by a Mr Peter Wirth who had moved to Egypt from Germany some twenty years earlier. I would like to say that as soon as we arrived we were bowled over by the beauty of the oasis, the serenity of the surroundings, the simple yet wonderful accommodation and the gentle caress of the hot spring. Unfortunately this was not the case. In reality, the oasis was basically a forest of not very remarkable trees (maybe I do not do justice to the concept of a green oasis which has sprung up in a desert, but neither one of us was particularly inspired by what we saw), the accommodation was grubby and depressing and the hot spring filled pool...well that was empty of course! I will not dwell any longer on the disappointment we felt that night, suffice to say we got on with it (me on bug watch after Matt had already removed one enormous flying creature which appeared through the plug hole) and started to look ahead (with more renewed hope!) to the camping trip in the White desert the following night.

I should at this point just mention Peter Wirth, who had not only booked us in at his resort and arranged the camping trip, but had also arranged the rest of the tour taking us to a hotel in Dahkla Oasis before going on to Luxor. He is a very jovial German man who has fully embraced the Egyptian culture, including the attire of long shirt dress, and sounds like he's doing an impression of a gestapo officer from 'allo 'allo! By the end of our briefing with him, that morning after our first night, we were both a little bit freaked out!

So off we set. Me, Matt and our bedouin (to share his local knowledge, although what with his English being limited and our Arabic non-existent we weren't entirely convinced this would be successful), in a four-wheel drive with a toilet role and a black bin liner...need I say more?!

We saw some amazing things that day. We climbed to the top of the Black Mountain getting incredible desert views at the top – easier going up than coming down! We visited Crystal Mountain where we saw what looks like crystalised rock faces (I'm not a geologist!) and then we ended up in the white desert where we were camping that night. It is hard to really describe and do justice to the landscape we saw, it is just so vast and there are these white chalk rock formations in unimaginable shapes and sizes protruding everywhere. And it's so silent, we could hear the silence. Our bedouin took us to find what he calls rock flowers that are beautifully formed rocks, in the shape of flowers! There are also fossils of shells and plants in some of these rocks.

Our bedouin picked a spot for us to camp in – no tents, just sleeping bags – and started to cook dinner. It wasn't long before another bedouin turned up (our one's brother apparently but we are still to discover the true meaning of this word when used in other cultures) with an italian couple, Paulo and Stephania. We all had supper together and had a really wonderful night, relaxing, laughing, chatting and communicating despite three different language barriers. Little desert foxes kept coming up and sniffing around and when Matt and I got back to our sleeping bags they'd chewed the laces of our shoes! We spent the night under the stars, surrounded by silence.

After some off road driving in the four wheel drive (more fun for Matt than me – incredibly bumpy if you know what I mean!) we were dropped in a tiny little village to wait for our public mini bus to take us to Dahkla Oasis. I am not going to go into too much detail on the tail end of our desert adventure, suffice to say it was a fairly unpleasant reality check after our idyllic time in the white desert. The 11 person, non AC mini bus went all the way to Dahkla carrying 17 Egyptians and us. Now I'm not one to pass judgement, but there were some people on that bus who hadn't had a wash for a while and after three hours of it, we were really looking forward to getting off and into the comfort of our hotel. Well, we should have known better by now, shouldn't we? I'd be surprised if there'd been more than ten guests passing through those doors in the whole year and there certainly wasn't anyone there but us that night. The dark, drab, souless interior of our room, complete with giant ant infested bathroom, was topped off by a dinner of salt water soup, potatoes and rice and what looked like cremated, anorexic chickens. Waking up with ants crawling all over me was the final straw and we could not wait to get up and on our way to Luxor. After making it through the somewhat disconcerting police checks at each town border, and even being escorted at one point (see TRAVEL NOTES – Cultural Learnings), we eventually arrived in Luxor. By this stage you have probably already read our account of Luxor so, having cut our Egypt leg of the tour short, we were off to Jordan next...

Cairo & Luxor

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 12:10:00 GMT

This entry almost deserves the title Death on the Nile. We were warned “good places are difficult to come by in Cairo” but we didn't expect this to be so true and extend to Luxor as well. We did grapple some highlights though to ensure we had covered the good, as well as the bad and ugly. In reverse order...

The Ugly

On arrival in Cairo I have to admit to having a bit of a Michael Palin moment. The contrast with Europe was even starker than I imagined. It was grubby, stinky, slightly scary and totally foreign. I loved it. The taxi from the airport to our hotel was brilliant to get a snapshot of the city. We later realised that this was the best /only way to see Cairo.

By foot it's even more of a mess of a city and more intimidating too. Luxor doesn't fair much better. We stayed in the upmarket residential area in Cairo and constantly battled the desire to not leave our accommodation. We stayed in a Nile view hotel in Luxor and felt exactly the same. As soon as you walk out the door you have to tackle any number of obstacles that renders getting any real value out of the experience pointless. For example...

The Bad

...leering men. Not pleasant. You don't see many women anywhere in Egypt and the atmosphere is definitely different for it. Especially hotels. Every member of staff is male. Its odd. Taxi drivers appear to line up their rear view mirrors on Chloe and passers by on the street attempt to be subtle when staring. The amazing thing is that although the men stare they don't acknowledge Chloe. All interaction is with me - any greetings and any conversation.

Egypt also has a questionable attitude to animals. No love lost here. Or as one fellow tourist said “we just love our animals too much in the UK”. Best move on or I might upset our readers. Food is appalling. Amazingly bad. You have to try it just to check that its as bad as it looks. And it is.

Number one on the hit list is the verbal hassle you get outside any shop/ tourist hot spot. A complete snub is the only way to tackle them. Any interaction, whether it be a response to a question or a glance in their general direction, intensifies the situation.

Three locations were especially bad. The Pyramids. Real shame, I've heard Taj Mahal is the same. Then there's the exit to Valley of the Kings. This is a bit special. The Egyptians - in their infinite tourism wisdom – have decided to construct a street of souvenir tat shops each with its own man-handling owner. Its the only way out. Getting from one end to freedom is like being inside a video game whereby you have to hectically destroy/ negotiate 5 shop owners at a time. Amazing characters the Egyptians. Finally, Luxor. Shops in Luxor have signs reading WE PROMISE NOT TO HASSLE YOU. Great lie. Also semi-dead horse and carts are popular here. On a positive note one of them has contributed an often quoted, unintentionally funny moment from Luxor. One of the carts accompanied us for 10 minutes as we walked along the road. The driver, registering our disinterest, suggested he was going to reduce his price by going “OK, OK...” and then saying the same price of 5 Egyptian pounds every time. He repeated this for the whole duration demonstrating some amazing comic timing. “OK, OK... 5”.

I should also mention that en route the taxi drivers take you to a few 'extra stops' before your final destination. Their brother's shop normally but it might be a camel or donkey yard in some desolate part of town. Nice.

The Good

The taxi's opportunistic extra stops make more sense when you take into consideration how much they're getting for the fare alone. London will always compare badly, of course, but an hour journey for £1 is about 50% less than you pay in our capital... before the cab starts moving. So my first positive for Egypt is that its great value. Looking forward to more of this in other countries.

The Pyramids really are incredible. Huge. If you take into account that they originally had a perfect, bright white limestone coating, and the surrounding area was much more fertile than the desert of today, you can only imagine how much more astounding they would have been to look at. Yes, the hassle you get does take the edge off the experience (that and the double-whammy of a KFC and a disgusting horse paddock/ rubbish tip marking respective entrances) but the Pyramids literally rise above it. But not for everyone I suspect.

We were in Egypt during Ramadan – the blessed month of fasting. This has been genuinely interesting to witness first hand. It really looks tough to be fair and when you hear the strange hours that Muslims operate on during this period its amazing that everyone's not moping about knackered. You do feel guilty eating, drinking and generally indulging in front of them. Well a little bit.

The mosques in Cairo were fantastic – and not just for the reason that they are the only places you're not accosted for one thing or another. We had hired a personal driver for the day (£10) so tagged on the Coptic region, the Islamic quarter and the Gayer Anderson museum at the same time. For the latter check the website for an explanation of its significance. I went because its featured heavily in The Spy Who Loved Me. The market in the Islamic quarter was great for a wander and an authentic sheesha and Egyptian coffee at the legendary El Fishawi's cafe. Brilliant.

Valley of the Kings is amazing (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valley_of_Kings). I'd heard that some find it disappointing but after seeing King Tutankhamen's possessions in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo I was intrigued to see the mummified boy king in his original resting place. He's in a climate controlled box now and looking every day of his 4700 years. Weirdly captivating viewing. The hieroglyphics on the walls in all of the tombs are so impressive. I love all that Egyptian stuff and valley of the Kings delivered. Also on this roll-call is the Mortuary temple of Hatshepsut. Stunning place. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deir_el-Bahri)

Good places are difficult to come by in Egypt. But we found them, albeit with some pain involved. The same was true of our time in The Western Desert...

Spain

matt_and_mercaders — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 12:04:00 GMT

On arrival in Madrid, one of the first things that struck us was the relaxed atmosphere considering it is a capital city. The weather was glorious the whole time we were there and we had a great time just leisurely wandering around the city. Our accommodation (possibly the cleanest hostel in the world – very good for me!) was right in the heart of the Latin quarter which is, for us, easily the best part of the city. We discovered a road called Baja, which was populated with loads of cosy looking tapas restaurants and bars, and this is where we discovered Camarillo! Camarillo serves the most incredible tapas – we just kept going back and ploughing through plate after plate of delectable treats. There is also a great bar that not only serves cocktails but also has wi-fi, rents out DVDs and plays sports channels on the TV (I do love it when I'm out having a nice drink with Matt and he's doing an impression of Mad eye Moody, one eye constantly swivelling round in an almost subconscious need to check the score of whatever sport happens to be on). On our last day Matt organised a trip to the Real Madrid stadium. For the record, this is the second football tour he's talked me into (Manchester United being the first) and, I was pretty impressed – again! As you can imagine there are plenty of photos of Matt on the bench, Matt with the trophies, Matt taking the place of someone in a life-size picture of the team...... For our final meal we hit Hard Rock Cafe....aside from the fact Matt had been begging to go since his beady little eyes spotted it on day one, we were also looking upon this as the last supper given we were off to Egypt next where you can't even eat a lettuce leaf without the risk of food poisoning. So we indulged in cocktails, burgers, chips, ice cream, thus finishing off a lovely few days in Madrid and the European stint of the Matt and Mercaders (can't believe I'm actually using that phrase now) world tour. The calm before the storm you might say...

TRAVEL NOTES - First Day Syndrome

matt_and_mercaders — Thu, 4 Sep 2008 09:54:00 GMT

First Day Syndrome is basically the start of an on-going cycle. We arrive in a new place, check into the accommodation (varying degrees of standard) and head out for a bit of an explore. This invariably ends up being much longer than planned, when we're already tired from travelling, resulting in a somewhat bleak view of the whole place. After a good night's sleep however, things begin to look up and get better and better until we end up not wanting to leave! Then the cycle starts again in the next place.

Albi

matt_and_mercaders — Tue, 2 Sep 2008 09:59:00 GMT

After a tearful goodbye in Antibes (for real this time!) it was on to Albi, in France, to stay with Arnie Sue and Uncle Bri! It was so nice to be staying in a home again, especially one with English Sky TV! And so ensued some serious Olympic viewing (and of course I managed to squeeze in a few episodes of Friends!).

A real highlight for me was spending time with the three gorgeous dogs, Winnie, Banksy and Sprint (later renamed Monsieur as he is so incredibly french looking!). Used to reprebate dogs charging about and jumping on to beds, I found it bliss to have them around. Matt however exercised some admirable pacience when woken each morning by Winnie's toenails tapping on the floor and Banksy's dive bombing wet nose butts!

We had some incredibly relaxing days. Matt and Brian played golf in the glorious sunshine, while me and Suzanna had a proper catch up over a bottle of rose! We were treated to a delicious lunch at their friend Ruth's house where, of course, another couple of bottles of wine were enjoyed....well, when in France!

Evenings were a different matter altogether! We indulged in carpaccio (a delicious revelation to Matt!) washed down with wine on the first night. The next night I made my seciality batch of cosmopolitans which were then followd by a whole range of unsusal cocktails, based on whatever we could find in the drinks cupboard, before heading out. Around midnight we hit Mitch's Bar in Albi. Mitch is French but speaks incredibly good english and he greeted Suzanna and Brian, and subsequently us, as long lost friends. However, the free shots of vodka with creme de menthe that he continuously plyed us with were not the act of a friend! More like the kiss of death! The night turned into a lock in with us choosing the music and dancing with a few of the staff. If I told you that at some point during all of this, Monsieur rang us on Matt's flip flop to complain about Banksy's behaviour and spoke to everyone in the bar, you may get some idea of the night we had!

Being good standing members of the community we decided to leave the car and walk home. That's a 45 minute walk, across country, in the pitch black! Need I say more, other than that I'm surprised this didn't in anyway relive the pain that followed the next day.....especially Matt's!

And so it was time to bid farewell to Arnie Sue and Uncle Bri, Wins, Banks and Mons. We had an amazing time and we love Albi! Thanks so much guys - see you in St Lu for more of the same!

And it's off to meet Rhiannon and head for the sunny town of St Sebastian.....

TRAVEL NOTES - Hydromania

matt_and_mercaders — Tue, 2 Sep 2008 09:18:00 GMT

This story is dedicated to Terry Summerbell.

5 nights in Rome is quite a while so we thought a day at the local waterpark might be fun. Travelling is about doing stuff,we were told, rather than simply seeing stuff. So we set off on our journey - i´d had the directions translated off the website and it seemed pretty straightforward. Change at x metro station and catch y bus. Easy. Except, that is, for the fact that y bus is the hardest bus on the planet to find.

Lost and slightly exhausted it was time to engage with the locals. We´d trawled every road in a one mile radius and were moments away from sacking off the whole escapade and heading back to base. Some extraordinary conversations ensued with the local Romans. Couldn´t make head nor tale of what they were on about but very entertaining nonetheless.

On the verge of returning home I recalled that my mother, Sheila, had once won an award for perserverence. ISo I perservered, with another local Roman who naturally didn´t know of the bus or the mythical waterpark for that matter. His non-english speaking, kojak look-a-like, friend had, however, got wind of the bus number and with the help of an interpreter relayed some directions. The stop was miles away but heartedned by our interaction with the locals we set off.

Being slightly anal of most things I decided to double check with a newspaper kiosk employee en route. The outcome was dispiriting. No bus today - its bank holiday. That was it. We´d had enough. broken by this development we headed back. At this point kojak (now carrying the world´s smallest dog) spotted our desperate bid for freedom, crossed the road and intercepted our path. We shrugged and gesticulated. He knew we had given up and wasn´t having any of it. At this point something magical happened. The ATAC 609 to Hydromania roared past.

The next 30 seconds are a bit hazy but the next thing I remember is sitting in the passenger seat of Kojaks car, Chloe in the back and Kojaks dog in my lap, following the 609. It was exhillarating.

We made the bus, arrived at the waterpark and set inside the grounds of our destination. "Good God" I muttered to myself. This is Chloe´s idea of hell. 20,000 Italians, 10,000 sun loungers and about 4 weasly slides. 20 minutes later I had secured 2 (broken) sun loungers conveniently located above the engine of the wave machine. I´m pretty sure I saw Chloe cry. Nearby a teenager had been struck on the head by a parasol blown in the now gusty wind. This was Sandy Lane for the damned. I had to rescue some value from the day so I left Chloe with her book and headed for the slides. Perhaps if I could lift my own spirits I could lift hers.

In hindsight it was pretty naiive of me to assume that the slides would be open. Every damn slide shut. Dry as a bone. Reveiwing our day at this stage I admit to having a little private laugh. And then bemusement. Why would so many people come here? To Hydromania´s credit they did lay on some entertainment. First up, and remember that this as pitched at the under tens, a man in what can only be described as an intimidating wrestling mask, demonstrating his martial arts nun-chuck skills. You couldn´t make it up. Secondly, and this prompted our eventual exit, a brawl between a feisty Italian red-head (and his gang) and the life guards.

There was just enough time for me to be told off for taking photos (the wave machine engine at least providing a convenient platform for photography) before our departure.

Antibes

matt_and_mercaders — Mon, 1 Sep 2008 10:35:00 GMT

Chloes´s birthday fell whilst we were in Antibes so, after acting tourists, we scheduled a beach break. Months previously chloe´s mum, Pip, and I had hatched a plan for her and Chloe´s dad, Stefan, to come over to Antibes as a surprise. Incidentally, during the goodbyes back in July, Pip and Stefan knew they were seeing Chloe in two weeks so fair play to them for keeping up the act.

I was in constant contact with them using chloe´s phone - the one phone between us - and when our train was cancelled during a power cut I had to find new and innovative/tenuous ways to get Chloe´s phone from her e.g. "can I check the footy scores on your phone...?". It was all worth the effort though to see the look on her little face when Stefan stepped out to surprise her at Antibes station. She did shriek and cause a bit of a scene i.e. that of a mugging but she later confessed tht she thought she was being attacked by a look-a-like of her dad. Brilliant.

Pip and Stef had organised amazing accommodation and brought some presents from the UK. Proud faces all round. The following days were fantastic. The beach, sun, family, good food and accomodation combo working to devastating effect.

I had one final trick up my sleeve. Good mates Oli and Rhiannon were on a family holiday nearby and generously took some time out to come over and spend the day with us. Amazing. Chloe´s face - again - a picture. I felt like Cilla in Surprise Surprise.

The surpises were clearly the highlight, however, a few others I recall are, the complementary home made rum at the local Pizza restaurant (lovely), the seven course 12:30am finish at Les Vieux Murs (epic) and admissions of OCD-like behaviour by Stef and Chloe (unnerving).

I also have to mention that Pip and Stef did make us laugh a lot, were generally on great form, and transformed our little beach break into something entirely more memorable. Special thanks to them both.

Roma!

matt_and_mercaders — Mon, 1 Sep 2008 10:23:00 GMT

Our arrival in Rome saw what we have come to call 'first day syndrome'(see travel notes). The hostel appeared pretty ropey, especially the caged 'elevator', the design of which one can only assume was based on the set of some terrifying horror movie! Deciding to go on a little explore of the city we discovered alot of roman ruins that afternoon - God knows what they were but they were everywhere! The first day was topped off by a dinner of frozen based pizza for Matt, which arrived 20 minutes before my two thin slices of chicken and potatos....reserving judgement on Rome at this stage!

After a good night's sleep things always seem better! There are some incredible things to see in Rome. The Pantheon is very impressive from the outside but it's the inside that's really incredible - impossible to describe, probably best to check out the pictures!

The colloseum was far more impressive than either of us imagined, and it's absolutely massive! We had a guided tour which gave us a real feel for everything that had gone on there and, basically, made us want to watch Gladiator again! I also just want to do a special mention to my little sis Nouche at this point because it was just outside the Colloseum that she rang to say she'd got 3 As in her Alevels and a confirmed place at Nottingham to study Vetinary science. Geek! Sooooo proud but Matt isn't speaking to her anymore for getting 100% in one module!

Vatican City is a remarkable place and The Sistine Chapel is spectacular, although the atmosphere is somewhat disturbed by extremely stern looking security guards shouting at people to stop taking photos whilst constantly shhh-ing everybody! One thing I would advise if you ever visit these places is to book tickets in advance - I would not want to be stuck in the queues we saw, only to have pre-bookers like us waltz in straight away!

Our exploring also saw us take in the cafe selling 'the best expressos in the world'. Now I don't drink coffee but, according to Matt, it was the best espresso in the world! I'll leave you to picture the scenes after he'd downed two in a row, with sugar.(Note the lack of exclamation mark)Day four saw us hit Hydromania, a water park on the outskirts of Rome. You will have to read the travel notes to get the full low down on this but, suffice to say, water parks are now off the list of things to do!

Evenings saw us dining in the lovely Piazza Navona. Great atmosphere, great food and drink and some interesting entertainment! Buskers of varying degrees of ability are dotted around but they all share one trait - singing certain english lyrics in quite the strangest accents!

And so it was on to Antibes where, unbeknownst to me, there were a few surprises in store....!

TRAVEL NOTES - Incredible Food

matt_and_mercaders — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 13:07:00 GMT

This blog entry is a place to recall some of the awesome food we've had since going on our travels. Some are there to reminisce about others so we can attempt to replicate when we get home.

Note: I'm a kiev and beans kind of man so you'll have to excuse my wide-eyed enthusiasm if some of the dishes below strike you as standard fare.

Brian's Carpaccio (Albi)

Carpaccio, lemon juice, salt, black pepper and parmesan cheese grated on top

Trounce's Scrambled Eggs (Paris)

Whilst I still believe that first class scramble eggs can be made in the microwave Tom delieved something special here

Camarilla's Tuna Pastries (Madrid)

Like miniature crispy cornish pasties with a tuna and other stuff in. One of the best things i've ever tasted. And I don't like tuna. (http://www.lacamarillarestaurante.com/)

Camarilla's pork on toast (Madrid)

A second entry for the legendary Camarillo. Like a bruschetta but with a thin layer of lightly grilled pork on it. Smeared in a honey mustard.

Clive's Omellete (St Lucia)

It was well hyped by the Mercado family but boy delivered - the mind boggles at how he turned a few ingredients into something so ridiculously tasty

Lassi (India)

Mango preferably, or any other fruit, natural yoghurt and sugar if the fruit isn't sweet enough, blended together.

Mango Tree Samosa's (India)

Again, like a cornish pasty and roughly the same size but with a thinner, crispier shell with a sweet and sour style content.

Funky Art Cafe Bruchetta (India)

Different every time but always amazing.

Calzone (South of France)

Great at the best of times but this one was something else - it had green pesto and herbs mixed with the tomato sauce on the outside

Lamb Pizza (Australia)

Wow. With mint sauce dressing. Best pizza ever. Thank-you Australia. Thank-you.

Chloes Bruschetta (New Zealand)

A regular fixture in the campervan and for good reason - it was incredible.

Windjammer Ribs (St Lucia)

Recipe unknown. Unbeatable.

12oz Fillet Steak Magnum (St Lucia)

I still think about this steak a lot

San Pedro Hummous (Belize)

They saw how much they liked it so gave us the recipe! 2x cans of washed chick peas, 8oz/25g of tahini, 1 small can of salsa, small hand full of cilantro, 1/2 cup of apple cider vinegar, juice of 1-2 limes, salt, pepper, 3 tbsp olive oil, 7 cloves of garlic & jalopeno to taste

Cara and Pollys Guacamole (Costa Rica)

Guacamole will never taste the same again. 2 avs, juice of 1 lime and a tomato, puree garlic, cumin, diced red onion, generous pinch of salt, chili flakes and a small amount of olive oil

Florence

matt_and_mercaders — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 15:34:00 GMT

Florence is home of the paintings of Botticelli, the sculptures of Michaelangelo and also some renowned architecture (sorry, didn't pick up the names). It is also the capital of the region of Tuscany and home of Dr. Lecter in the film Hannibal.

Florence has an incredible amount of cultural significance but, to us at least, it was bit of a let down. It feels shameful to admit it but that is how we felt. In contrast to Venice Florence seems a bit grubby. It could be better presented. Tidy itself up a bit. Try a little harder.

Tuscany as a region is a much better prospect. A good month tour at some stage in the future has been added to the to-do list. It has a good balance; skiing to the north; coast to the west; chianti wine region to the south. Perfect. Italian midlands 1, English midlands 0.

Back to Florence and our highlights were the remarkable views from Piazzo Michaelangelo, the Ufizzi museum, and Michaelangelo's David (of Goliath fame). I'm not a sculpture buff but I was won over. It's hard to put your finger on why but it's larger than you would expect and there is a ludicrous level of detail. It's regarded as having perfect proportions. On this point I disagree, at least for David's sake.

Next stop Rome. We move on with some positive memories of Florence but regretful of the distinct lack of wow factor. My recommendation - Hannibal Lecter museum. But that just my opinion.

Venezia!

matt_and_mercaders — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 14:35:00 GMT

Now, we all know that Venice is built on water. However, nothing can prepare you for what it's actually like when you get there. As we walked out of the station we were confronted by a sea of water, stretched out in front of us for as far as we could see. There was not a road or pavement in sight. So, fresh (!) from the sleeper train we find ourselves boarding a large boat which is essentially the equivalent of a bus. That's the thing about Venice, people still need to get around, but instead of taxis there are boats and instead of buses there are big boats - even the houses have boats parked outside in place of cars! I don't think you really notice the relaxing atmosphere this creates - and the lack of noise and pollution - until after you leave.

Venice saw the beginning of proper budgeting for us - we decided to put the fabulous over expenditure of Paris behind us and start again! I've really got into budgeting - some may say I've got my father's blood running through my veins! Once I knew our daily budget I became hyper-aware of every Euro we spent - much to Matt's dismay as his claim on arrival in Italy was that he was going to eat pizza for every single meal.

After two days of exploring in boiling temperatures we were ready for some serious sunbathing. So off we set for the nearest park, bikini and trunks at the ready! However, if we were expecting the equivalent of Acton Green round the corner, where we could join the rest of the Brits, stripped to the bare minimum greedily soaking up the rays, we were wrong. Despite the golden tans all around, sunbathing does not seem to be an activity in Italian city parks. Reading, picnics, jogging, romantic cuddling, even weight lifting all seem to be indulged in, but sunbathing? No. Clearly that didn't stop us, so off came our tops, up rolled our bottoms and we were away!

And so our stay in this city on the water came to an end. Contrary to popular belief, Venice is not a smelly place. It is actually very charming and friendly and really rather special. It's definitely one of my faves so far.

TRAVEL NOTES - The Joy of Sleeper Trains

matt_and_mercaders — Sat, 9 Aug 2008 17:44:00 GMT

Alternatively titled: 'how to lose a nights kip'. I've laid my cards out on the table here so you know where this particular journal entry is heading, however, I confess I was excited by the prospect of the sleeper train. Many of you will be aware of my love of a good murder mystery, Trish/ Rupert - I know you join me on this, and I'd love to be part of one of those classic Poirot cases aboard public transport. That is, without actually being the unlucky sod who bites the dust.

It began well. Classic six seater carriage, strange foreign dialects (French) and Chloe and I playing the role of Poirot and Hastings. We did some polite nodding and smiling but no real chat (there was no opportunity to get je voudrais out so I was scuppered) until the Italian conductor came in. Great flamboyant chap too "OK, I see, you from Britishland, Britishland!". He taught us how to open the beds out and took our passports.

Quite hungry we headed to the food and drink carriage, ate a few items with the equivalent nutritional value of plasticine and headed back. We set up the bed with our French friends and bedded down. Bear in mind that the room now has two triple bunk beds and Chloe and I are at base camp in the two smallest areas known to man. Houdini would have complained. Our French friends luxuriating in palace size accomodation whilst we find a position and are forcefully wedged there until morning.

Thats it really, other than to say that Hastings and I survived the night (combined sleep: 36 minutes) and that any would-be sleeper train passengers should always opt for the top bunk.

Paris

matt_and_mercaders — Wed, 6 Aug 2008 20:36:00 GMT

...and straight into the safe hands of old mate Tom Trounce. Some people might be disappointed that we didn't head further afield for our first stop - not us, our neighbours across the water have plenty to offer!

dunnhumby

Tom took us to a leaving do (for old mate Arnaud as it turned out) who was leaving the dunnhumby Paris office. Lots of old work chat which I secretly loved, however, Chloe must feel like dunnhumby is inescapable. I'll try and work in some teaching chat to balance things out - length of holidays should do it. That always goes down well.

Guns & Bones

We attempted some touristy stuff before being derailed by Tom. We had a go at some coconut shy type fayre but with guns. The whole thing was a UK health and safety shambles (a pellet from the air rifle richoching into my lap) but it was fun and we both won prizes. I chose a teddy for Chloe, Tom picked out a BB gun. Naturally.

The next day was a slow/none starter. Tom had got us very drunk at his favourite haunts the previous evening (zero zero a highlight) so we arrived late at the Catacombs (more detail in a minute). The queue was huge so hit Paris Plage. Very cool - like Brighton but by a river. Here we learnt that modern French music is not good.

Finally made the Catatombs - where the bones of 17 million French folk from the 1700's are stacked deep underground - we conceded that pretending to Chloe that we were going to a cat cemetery wasn't as funny as we thought. This place was weird but great.

Minigolf.

All the holes were Parisien landmarks (no cat tombs though). Amazing. We don't know who won because none of us can count. Actually, strictly speaking Chloe won because we gave her a 2 shot handicap per hole. She didn't need it and probably won on her own merit.

Disneyland Paris

This was Chloe's day. A day of firsts. First loop the loop, first proper rollercoaster (space mountain - amazing), first properly scary ride (tower of terror - unbelievable). Jake Moore would not be proud. Also worthy of note was her determination to stay in the park forever powered by, as she put it, Disney magic. I burnt the bald bits on my head.

One final meal with Tom and fond farewells. He's proven himself to be even more humourous, ridiculous, dangerous & generous than we thought possible. Top bloke.

In the beginning...

matt_and_mercaders — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 16:27:00 GMT

Thanks for checking out our journal. We'll try to keep it interesting! I dare say the next nine months are going to be eventful - for better or worse...