Travel Blog

Why is it that, when separated from something/someone/somewhere, we crave the small things that bring us closer to it? Yet, when we’re suddenly brought closer to said thing, a feeling of wanting distance comes over us?

For example, there have been a few Sundays over the course of my trip in which I’ve wanted nothing more than to head home for a couple of hours, just so I could munch my way through a big home cooked dinner with my family, followed by a nice long nap in my own bed. It’s never even felt like a homesick kind of craving, merely just one of those things I take for granted at home. Yet now, as the prospect of going home looms ever near, I feel like Sunday roasts are worth sacrificing if only I could stay away a few weeks longer.

Not wishing to cause offence of course; I have things incredibly good at home. Great friends, great family, a university placement awaiting me and lots of good times ahead I’m sure…it’s just the ‘travel bug’ hitting me in full force. Being back in Auckland is strange as most people I meet here are just beginning their trips, keen and excited, albeit a little apprehensive…and here I am, ready to fly out. It’s strange to think back to 5 months ago when my trip was first beginning. Yes I was excited…incredibly excited infact, right up until the morning of departure when nerves hit me full force, nearly knocking me off my feet. Yes i did the unthinkable, cried as I bode farewell to my brother, cried when leaving the parents at the airport and only stopped crying when I sat down with a vodka in the airport ‘Spoons (blame the parents I say!)

And now? Well, for starters, now I’ve cried enough for the next 5 years and have no tears left in me. But mainly, my fears aren’t gone…the next trip will petrify me just as much…but at least I know I can do it and more than that, I want to do it. A better way to explain it I suppose is, side stepping a little, if I do another bungy (which I plan to), I’ll still be just as terrified before the jump as I was the first time (a drop is still a drop after all)…but at least next time round, I’ll know I’ve done it before, so can do it again, forgetting all the fear and just enjoying the ride.

Last week I said my goodbyes to one of my good friends out here; a Swedish girl I’ve spent the last 2 and half months with. A chance meet on New Years Eve ended in a great friendship. This is what I’m going to miss about travelling. In two days I’ll be saying two more goodbyes; one to another good friend who has been with myself and the Sweed for a month and a half, and the next to a country I’ve loved every minute of.

I’ve spent my last week taking to the road with a friend in a little red car we as good as destroyed. The little thing wasn’t made for speed, nor was it made for the unsealed, curvy, hilly roads of the NZ coastline. We pushed it to it’s limits however and it survived the trip (although we’re thanking our lucky stars we paid a bit more for extra coverage on insurance!) It was a memorable week, if not for the gorgeous views and vast stretches of beach, then for the shacks we stayed in and the ‘compost toilets’ we were required to use (don’t ask!)

Despite a few mishaps in navigation (for which the blame was cruelly placed on me just because I was the one with the map…pfft!) we had a smooth trip and I was incredibly sad to be leaving the cows, sheep and rickety roads as we headed back into the city. I feel as though I’ve seen all I can see of NZ and yet I’m not quite ready to be saying bye bye. Of course, it’s on the list of places to return to…

I’m heading off to San Francisco next and am looking forward to a different place to explore. Thanks to my brother, I have free accomodation and this is just as well as I’ve blown my budget well out the window. They say money isn’t the key to happiness and yes, I agree. Yet, if it were not for the pennies I wouldn’t have been able to do half the things I’ve done. Yes yes, you can’t put a price on friendship and all that jazz, and yes it’s the people that have made my trip not the material things…but then you need the cash if you want to jump off a bridge or out of a plane (with the intent of surviving anyways…) and these things have made my time as much as anything free. Trust me, the money is more than neccessary. Next time round I’m going to have to actually do a bit of work (if I can remember what ‘work’ is!)

For the minute though, I’ll settle for my final lazy day in New Zealand. Was up with the sun this morning to watch the Ireland vs. Wales rugby in the local Irish pub, which was absolute chaos (unsurprsingly). Managed to start my morning with a pint though, so despite not knowing anything about rugby, I was quite happy cheering at the right moments and otherwise sitting on my bar stool in my own happy bubble. How I’ll miss this place…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very excited to be going home. I miss my family and friends as much as anyone does out here, but I would love to head back for a week or so, see everybody, and then head off again. Already I have a large list of future destinations which, not surprisingly, I want to visit as soon as possible.

Yes I have my whole life for more exploration, but the world is a pretty big place and I need to get a head start…

It’s a Friday night, I’m in a hostel with an awesome bar, good music and lots of people and yet I find myself sitting on Facebook. Why you ask? Partly because I can no longer afford to go drinking, but mainly because of my lack of sleep last night. When I first came away, I couldn’t sleep for a week or two as I was not used to having a room full of people (many of whom have serious snoring issues), who all come in at different times during the night. However, you soon get used to the noise of people both in and out of your room, noise from the streets and music from the bar. Thanks to this, I can now sleep on buses, trains, coaches, cars, planes and boats, in dorms with 12 people, in  rooms located next door to clubs and in beds which creak and squeak everytime someone moves. One thing, however, which is difficult to ignore, is when two of your roomies decide to have a bit of fun in the night, clearly a bit starved of action. Waking up to questionnable noises and a bed rocking way more than is acceptable is one of the moments you dread. Speak to most travellers and they will have had an experience of a similar kind. But what can you do? Too sleepy to think about climbing out of bed and sitting outside the room, unsure if anyone else is awake so not wanting to turn on the light and have a good old laugh, you merely have to sit it out, ears covered with an ipod and pillow and hoping to God it’s all over as quickly as it begun. In this case, thankfully, it was. Once one of the pair had left the room and the female offender was snoozing (and snoring…loudly) I braved sitting up in my bed hoping I wasn’t alone in my horror. I wasn’t. The eight other people in the dorm all trying to sleep had been roused by the same noises as I and luckily, we were able to have a serious giggle about it at 4am…so much so that by the time offender no.1 returned, we were in hysterics and I was actually crying with laughter. Clearly embarassed, the guy slunk back into bed with Ms. Snores-a-lot, and after making sure there was an appropriate distance between the pair, the rest of us fell back into a restless slumber. Although the pair tried to be quieter in the morning, when one of my roomies went to get up as she had early morning errands to run, she was horrified to find two naked people up to no good. Not surprisingly, she didn’t even bother to change into clean clothes before swiftly departing the room. A walk into town in her PJs was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make…

On a lighter note, yesterday I went swimming with wild Hector dolphins. This was a fantastic experience especially as three of us hired a car for the day in order to see some sights on the way. The friend driving the slightly shoddy veichle had done a lot of driving in NZ already so all was well, no problems with funny roads and traffic lights…However, there was a slight blip when, getting into the car, she remarked, ‘Oh, it’s an automatic.’ Questionning what she meant, she responded, ‘Well, the last time I drove an automatic was in Australia. I hit a kangaroo and wrote off the car.’ Right-o.

Back to safer ground and we found out the dolphins are the smallest and rarest in the world, with only about 7,500 left swimming the oceans. They are found mainly around New Zealand so it seemed an opportunity not to be missed. As with the surfing in Australia when it rained all day, the weather was dreadful and along with the rain came freezing winds and even colder water. Bobbing about in the ice cold ocean for just under an hour was not something I was anticipating on doing, but the dolphins made it all worthwhile. By tapping stones together and making noises under the water, the dolphins are drawn to you and are keen to play. By the end we had masses around us, jumping in the waves and circling us, trying to play games. It really was incredible.

Other than the swim, I’ve had a fairly tame time. After departing Queenstown, I headed to the southern most part of New Zealand, where I visited beaches, waterfalls, pubs and clubs and finally Milford Sound, the fiordland, which was absolutely stunning. After a long coach jouney we arrived at a ferry terminal where we took a two hour long boat cruise through the mountains and falls and were lucky enough to have a beautiful sunny day. Great opportunity to take hundreds of photos which inevitably all end up looking identical.

After this I went back to a town called Wanaka, which again, is a stunning place. A big skiing area, this town is heaving in the winter, but pleasantly calm during the summer months. It gave me a good chance to wind down after travelling non stop on buses and is definitely a place I’ve mentally noted to come back to.

Following this I headed back to Queenstown and then up to Christchurch, where I now find myself. Despite being warned that there was little to do in this city, I’ve had a very pleasant time sitting outside Starbucks in Cathedral Square, doing a good amount of people watching. The weather hasn’t improved over the last few days but thankfully I bought myself a new jumper as wearing the same one day after day resulted in it starting to smell like dog. I’m nothing if not a true lady.

Tomorrow I’m off on the road again, heading back up north to do some wine tours (something which has encouraged more than one friend to say I’m turning into my parents) and then back to the North Island to see what havoc I can wreak there.

Fingers crossed the beds up there will stay firmly still.

I’m struggling to keep my eyes open while writing this entry, thanks to both my noisy noisy dorm mates getting up at stupid o’clock and the fact that I too needed to get out of bed when they did in order to do my laundry. Today is one of those catch up days where I spend far too long on the internet, wash, dry and neatly pack my clothes (a pointless task as they always end up heavily creased) and generally have a clear out of all the utter rubbish that has accumalated in my bag over the past few weeks.

The jeans I’m now wearing are far more snug than I’d usually like due to the fact that, impatient to wear some warm clothes this morning as all I had left clean were a pair of short shorts, I put my jeans in the dryer. BIG mistake - they are now 2 sizes smaller than before. Incentive to lose weight? I think so.

I think though, that thanks to yesterday’s antics, weight loss is surely on the way. Doing two bungy jumps in the space of 5 hours was more nerves, excitement and adrenaline than my body could take. Having booked my Nevis bungy jump (the highest bungy at 134m) a few days ago, I had a painful 72 hours of waiting for the fateful moment when some nice stranger would tell me to jump off a ledge. Fortunately, 4 friends of mine were also signed up for the bungy so we were there to egg each other on. Having managed to force down some Cheerios first thing in the morning, I felt a little optimistic before we left, but as we approached the jump site and I suddenly found myself in a rickety cable car being taken to the ledge itself, all optimism flew out the window and I  became a quivering wreck who couldn’t not stop laughing (in a hysterical, nervous way of course). Nerves didn’t get any better when I found myself in a chair being strapped up by the ankles and the whole ‘what the bloody hell am I doing?!’ factor set in as a friendly fellow starting telling me to ‘just shuffle forward’ onto the platform. Just shuffle forward?! Convinced he was trying to trick me into jumping without realising, I glanced a look down. Yes I was still on the platform, no I did not like what I saw. Bugger.

However, stalling at this bungy is really not an option. If you don’t go after the countdown I can’t imagine you ever will. So, when the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 came, I jumped….and good lord was it high. I screamed as I flew off until sound seemed to evade me and I found no noise was coming out of my mouth. After that though the feeling was incredible. There was some panic when I couldn’t pull my cord that was meant to sit me in the upright position, forcing me to go back up to the top upside down. There is something not quite right about looking at mountains upside down and I must admit that when I got back to the top I made a mad scramble to hold onto anything I could. However, despite shaking like crazy, I was on the biggest high and found the whole experience absolutely incredible.

So, a bit happy from this jump, I decided to go ahead and do another. The next one was only 47m high but is based up a gondola 400m above Queenstown…so the drop seems a bit mental too. This one had a harness around your waist which meant that you could do a running jump off of the ledge. Although I wasn’t scared about this one, at the moment when I was about to run there was a sudden panic and I seriously questionned once again what I was doing. Too late to back out though so I took a running jump and even managed to get in a flip. Very very fun.

After these jumps I was on a huge high which, inevitably, resulted in the mother of all lows. By midnight I was absolutely shattered and more than ready for bed. I may have missed some of the party spirit but I’d take the adrenaline high over the alcohol one any day.

Now it seems, I’ve done most things on my ‘must do’ list. After Wellington, we headed down to the south island on a stunning ferry ride that unfortunately, I slept through. I had a fantastic time in Nelson where we went to the Abel Tasman National Park which was beautiful and where I was lucky enough to see baby seals and penguins on the beach. I can’t help but question why I keep partaking in walks when most of the time it’s all up hill and I curse under my breath, promising myself never to do them again. New Zealand is lucky it’s so pretty because I’d never give these parks my money to walk unless they were really something special. Turns out, they all are…great for the parks, a bugger for my budget.

Heading down from Nelson we stopped in a small town called Westport where I participated in jet boating; literally a jet boat , an insane driver, lots of 360′ turns and getting incredibly wet. Following this was a stop at a lake in the middle of nowhere with only a pub to keep it company. This place is called the ‘Poo Pub’ and is home to a very wild, very druken night. The bus uses it as a fancy dress base where they pick a theme for all us backpackers. Our theme was ‘rubbish’ for the girls and ‘cross dressing’ for the boys. The guys got far too enthuasiatic for their own good, having a great time in a thrift store deciding which bras would fit them best. Worrying…

Our theme was far easier as a roll of black bin bags was all that was needed. A quck cut here and tie there and I fashioned a bin bag dress, backcombed all my hair and covered my arms and legs in black powder. Trashy enough? I think so…

Obviously this night was never meant to be done sober so hangovers were rife on our bus the following morning. Not a pretty sight.

We moved on to Franz Josef next, home to a giant glacier that most of us did a full day hike up and down. This too was brilliant and beautiful (noticing a NZ trend here?) and despite the severe aching and general loss of breath (another clear sign of my level of fitness) it was an unforgettable day out.

Now I’m just about ready to start having some chill out, and hopefully cheap, time again. Moving on again tomorrow to the very south of the island. I’ve already been offered several walks and what more, I’m actually considering a few of them. If I don’t come back fit as a fiddle I’m going to be having words…

Having finally found myself in a place for more than one day, I felt a blog was definitely due. The last couple of weeks have flown by. They’ve been a mix of tears, laughter, stupid conversations and even more stupid activities.

Perhaps I should back track a little? I arrived in Rotorua in time for Christmas and was immediately filled with a sense of both love for the city and dread for the days ahead. When I got to my 12 bed dorm, expecting to find a room full of people to spend the holidays with, I was slightly shocked to find just 3 others; a small group of Japanese girls who didn’t speak a word of English. I hate to admit it but I was a tad distraught about the fact that my Christmas would be spent with just myself for company…the hostel was pretty much empty and the bar rather dead - things were not looking good. I panicked even more when, on Christmas Eve, the Japanese left and I was in a big bed of dorms, not one other filled. However, the cleaning lady took pity and invited me to her house on Christmas Day if all else failed…at least I had a back up.

Fortunately, help came in the form of aa Korean girl whose name I still can’t get right (I thought she was called ‘Luna’ until, on her final day, she wrote her name down and it didn’t resemble ‘Luna in the least’) and a Mexican guy. The three of us, seemingly lonely at Christmas, spent the day walking down by the lake and through parks of hot springs. Not Christmas, but not half bad. My Christmas meal consisted of sushi (hand made by myself and the Korean girl that morning - yes, shocking) and a bottle of wine and I was happily tucked up in bed at a reasonable hour as all pubs/bars and restaurants had their doors firmly shut.

I felt nothing but a sense of relief once Christmas day was over. Before I came away I didn’t really take into account how the holidays would affect me, or even if they would at all. It hit me a lot harder than I thought it would have done. Not that Christmas is a massive thing in my house (in recent years fighting with my Mother about whether or not to put the Christmas tree up has been commonplace) but it’s more the whole build up to Christmas. It was a lovely sunny day in Rotorua, but who wants sun on Christmas day unless it’s along with a chill in the air that forces you to wear a coat and scarf? It sounds great having a hot day, and it really was gorgeous…but it just wasn’t Christmas.

New Year’s Eve was much better. It’s different to Christmas beacuse no matter where you are in the world, it’s all about meeting randomers and just having a good time. By this time, my 12 bed dorm was 7 beds full so there was a nice group of us. It was also the cheapest night ever thanks to the $50 bar tab we won the night before, playing a game of giant, inflatable Twister. Bending into awkward and sometimes painful positions with complete strangers has its advantages…

My final days in Rotorua flew by…the weather was up and down, more down than up but we managed to have a good time chilling out by the lake or reading a book by the pool. It was very relaxed and nice to just stop for a few days. I knew that once I left and jumped on the Kiwi Bus (the bus service I’m using here), things would be full steam ahead. I wasn’t wrong.

I jumped on the bus a couple of days after New Year, made friends immediately and within half an hour was at a Zorbing track, inside a giant hamster ball, about to roll down a hill. I hadn’t laughed that much in a fair while. I guess while in Rotorua, I got stuck in a slightly down frame of mind. Christmas really knocked me down - it was a difficult time and while I just felt the same old highs and lows as before, it became increasingly difficult to snap out of the ‘lows’ when I knew at home all my friends and family were having a merry ol’ time together. Don’t get me wrong, after Christmas I had a fantastic few days and evenings out, but it took imitating a hamster to give me the much needed adrenaline kick which snapped me out of my lull.

On the evening of the hill rolls, I arrived in a small town called Waitomo, where its famous for it’s caves. I had a great evening with the guys from my bus, eating a BBQ the local pub put on for us. There was only one slightly awkward moment during which I was raving about how much a missed good red meat…a rave that lasted a good 5 minutes…when I suddenly realised I was chatting to a Vegan girl who politely nodded and then proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the evening. Funny that.

The following morning I went down into the caves on a 4 hour trip involving abseiling down a 50metre drop to get in, zip-wiring in the dark, jumping off rocks into ice cold water and sitting in a tube watching the glow worms go by. It was interesting to say the least. Having never abseiled before, I was grateful for the brief run down of what to do but not so grateful once I realised no practice was involved and it was just a ‘Hey, here’s a big dark drop - enjoy!’ My response was a, ‘You’re *bleeping* kidding me?!’ at which I only got a laugh in return. Charming.

Turns out that no, he was not *bleeping* kidding me and I proceeded to shimmy and jolt my way awkwardly down into pitch black caves wondering why I thought this would be fun. Turned out to be a lot more fun than I could have asked more and believe it or not, I actually managed a smile at the end of the drop. Shocking.

After working our way throught the caves, we had to venture out. I hadn’t considered that dropping 50m would mean climbing that back up…not a graceful trek. Rock climbing came fully into play as we made our way up the waterfalls. Again, there were some expletives uttered from my lips but can you blame me? When climbing up unsteady waterfalls, water gushing down, no ropes holding me on and some instructor yelling ‘put your leg up there’ (far higher than my leg would ever bend) I felt I deserved to scream a good ‘bugger’ (or something to that effect) at every rock I met.

While this activity was called ‘black water rafting’ there was no real rafting involved. ‘White water rafting’ was a different matter altogether. This again was a hilarious activity that left me smiling for days. Plumeting through rapids and down a 7m waterfall with, admitedly the lovliest, but most worrying instructors I’ve ever met thanks to their over use of the words ‘dude’ and ’sweet.’ Obviously they knew what they were doing and they were absolutely fantastic but I spent much of the rafting wondering which guy had been smoking the most pot that morning and so which I should count on more when drowning under a waterfall. Luckily I made it out alive, all in good time for the next lot of stupid stunts.

I arrived in Taupo a couple of days after Waitomo and was pretty impressed by the huge lake which is apparantly the size of Singapore. After I good night out I was up at 5am ready (and not so raring) to do the Tongariro Crossing - a 7 hour walk through the mountains. I actually use the term ‘walk’ quite loosely as most of it involved puffing, panting, climbing and trying to get through it without crawling on my hands and knees. At least this was the case for the first 2 hours as you have to climb up rocks, steps and generally horrifically steep slopes in order to get anywhere attrative. Delightfully named the ‘Devil’s Staircase,’ this section was not for the unfit…I know. I’m terribly unfit. If this isn’t an incentive to avoid the devil, I don’t know what is…

After the initial gruelling trek, cursing and muttering the whole way, the top seemed more in reach and then things improved. It was beautiful from there onwards and suddenly the feeling of hate against all mountains fell away. I’d recommend it to anyone, hellish hills and all. We joked on the way up (in between swearing and gasping for air) that Frodo and Sam must have been incredibly fit little hobbits to get through this kind of trek (much of the Lord of the Rings filming was done in the park), especially when it came to ‘Mt Doom’ which was an optional climb. Ring bearer or not, if I was Mr Baggins I certainly would have opted out.

And what else would be the logical thing to follow a mountain hike than a skydive? For some reason i found myself stopping at the airport on the way back from the crossing, ready to be strapped to another person and chucked out of a plane. The walk had clearly dabbled with my logical train of thought.

It was by far though, the most incredible thing I have ever done. I didn’t even feel jitters until I saw the first person jump out and by then it was too late to back out as I was being shuffled forward, closer and closer to the exit and then suddenly being told to ‘just dangle your legs out’, like it was the most natural thing in the world. No time to dwell on this though as quick as a flash I was free falling. The initial feeling was indescribable - panic, disbelief and pure joy. The rest I barely remember as my brain struggled to comprehend what the heck my body thought it was doing and I only switched back on as the camera man came into view and began to high five me and grab my hands.

The only unfortunate thing about the experience was that, mid laughter, I dribbled a little and couldn’t move my hands close to my face to wipe it away due to the sheer force of the air. How very lady like…

The pure adreline fuelled high after my feet landed firmly on the ground didn’t ware off for a fair while and even now thinking about it gives me nice happy butterflies in my belly. It’s strange to think that I paid a small fortune to be chucked out of a plane but it was worth every penny. If I ever get stuck in a slightly depressed rut again, I now know that all I need to do is jump a 15,000ft drop. Easy as pie.

After these crazy few days it was time to lay low…so I took a trip round the east coast of the north island. Just when you think the country couldn’t be more beautiful, it turns around and shoves beaches, farm lands and coastlines like no other in your face. The roads were empty and we’d go hours without passing another veichle, the people I met were lovely and most places I stayed were family run and very homely. I tried my hand at horse riding (put it this way, I’m not a natural) and fed sting rays just for the hell of it. Very entertaining. 

Back to civilisation now and I find myself in Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city. It’s safe to say I’ve already fallen ever-so-slightly- in love with the place. It’s chilled enough to be relaxing but busy enough to be fun and action filled.

I’d take this place over a hobbit hole any day…

So much has happened since my last blog entry that I’m not really sure where to begin with this one. I last left off with birthday celebrations and worries about not ever making it to Sydney….so to make it clear, I arrived there in one piece…or rather half a piece after a killer 48 hour journey to get there.

After birthday shenanigans, my health (and liver) took a turn for the worst and I spent a couple of days in bed, suffering from the vicious (common or otherwise) cold. Having swollen glands and a pounding head when in a stuffy room in Bangkok is not the best combination so it took a fair few days to recover from the worst of it. However, darkest days over with and we began to get updates on the airport situation. After a fleeting, not to mention chaotic, trip to the Qantas office in Bangkok (back to dodgy car parks and dodgier men), I was told that the chances of me flying out of Bangkok until after December 10th were slim. This being the case, I had to postpone my flight to New Zealand until the 15th to be on the safe side.

Sod’s law then that I got a phonecall on the evening of the 3rd saying I was being flown out on the 4th. Both myself and good friend got on the same relief flight deparing from Phuket which sounds great, but in reality wasn’t the best. Due to being stranded, we were put up in 5* accomodation and got all of our meals for free (I wonder why they were so keen to kick us out?)  meaning that we’d begun to adjust to a life of luxury that we weren’t ready to give up. Additionally, when we receievd the phonecall we were both getting ready for a big night out and so the contents of our backpacks were in a horrific mess, scattered all over our room. Knowing this was then our final night in Thailand, we neglected our packing and went for a drink with some friends.

Getting back in the early hours, with a room full of stuff to fit into two, realistically huge but seemingly small, backpacks, we struggled to get the motivation to pack up anything. Knowing we were up again in a few hours though gave us a much needed kick up the bum and we set to work…

When the alarms (both with the same highly irritating ringtone) went off at 6am that morning we cursed whatever bright spark came up with the ‘relief flight’ idea. Clearly someone who was out to throughly piss off any lazy backpacker.

And so began our very long, very tiring trip to Sydney. 14 hours on a coach, several hours at Phuket airport, a 2 hour flight to Singapore, an 18 hour wait in Singapore and finally and 7 hour flight to Sydney. By the time we landed we were frizzy haired, slightly greasy, slightly smelly, very disgruntled girls who wanted a bed more than anything. Cue the next issue: accomodation. Due to the short notice we were given, there was little time to book anywhere decent and a hostel had to be found on the 15 minutes of internet we could afford in Singapore airport. Not so surprisingly then, did we end up in an absolute dive of a place that smelt suspiciously like wet dog. So much for that life of luxury…

Keen to leave the hound, we went out on the town for our first taste of Aussie life. It tasted pretty good.

Since then, my time in Sydney was a wirlwind of sightseeing, boat trips, laziness, drinking and sleeping. The Opera House and Harbour Bridge were, not shockingly, quite amazing. It’s very surreal to see these monumental sights and get your head around the fact that you’re actually here seeing them, rather than glancing through a magazine or brochure. We took a stunning boat trip to Manly beach which is a hotspot for the surfer dudes and the beautiful folk of Sydney. Although we stood out a mile thanks to our pasty skin and clear cluelessness about where we were going, it was a very nice, very chilled kind of place…definitely somewhere to go back to.

Feeling like all our strenuous activity was taking its toll (ha!) we thought we’d head over to Bondi beach (bigger surfing population, long beaches, beautiful sights) and spent a few days tanning on the beach. Unfortunately our parade was rained on (quite literally) as Sydney suffered a few days of heavy downpour, strong winds and chilliness. Yes, my last few days in Australia were spent in jeans and thick hoodie. Unbe-bloody-lievable. We booked a day of surfing on the wost day - storms and ice cold winds causing me to curse whatever Lonely Planet Guide author told me that Sydney was hot in December. Liar.

After heading back into the city centre I spent an eveing climbing the Harbour Bridge which was was a great experience…and thanks to lugging my monster of a backpack around for a few weeks, I was actually fit enough to do it without gasping for breath at every stop. 20 kilos on your back? Blessing in disguise.

A trip to the Blue Mountains was the icing on my Sydney cake, what with gorgeous views, stunning walks and kangaroos to fill any dull gaps, it was a brilliant day out.

After a final evening out with both Thailand friends and new found room mates, it was time to say farewell to Sydney. It only hit me once back on the hostel that from this point on I was far more alone than I had been since the beginning of my trip. While there had been many nights apart from my friends, they had always been within walking distance to fall back on if needs be. Once in new Zealand it felt like being back to square one.

One of the great things it seems though, about travelling alone, is how much more approachable you become. People are not wary to talk to you, or intimidated so as to avoid a conversation. After arriving at my hostel in Auckland after a long day of travelling (plane delays - my new mortal enemy) I instantly began conversing with a girl in my dorm, although couldn’t keep the conversation flowing for all that long as I swiftly passed out by 9pm. Luckily, my new found friend was forgiving and the following day we went walking the city, looking at the sights and scenery. This was followed by happy hour drinks (cramming as much alcohol into 2 hours as possible) and not surprsingly, another quick collapse into bed.

Yes, there are lonely days and lonlier evenings, but it’s part of the solo traveller package. There are days when you do nothing and days where you do everything and more. It’s a hard balance. Spend too much time busy and you lose precious pennies and need a week to recover from alcohol intake…but spend too much time ‘chilling’ and you lose precious time that could be filled far more productively.

Perhaps the biggest annoyance (but possibly the most fun thing about it) is not being able to make solid plans as you never know who you are going to meet or where they might take you. Planning a trip 2 days in advance may seem wise, but what if, an hour later, you meet fantastic people planning the same trip in 3 days time? It’s tricky.

Trickiness isn’t always a curse though and it’s a roll-with-the-punches situation. I’m already loving my time here and look forward to days filled with travelling through fields, mountains and rivers, hobbit hunting and tree talking. That still happens here right? The soundtrack is already ringing in my ears…

I once again find myself in an internet cafe in Bangkok and can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I was last here. Time truly does fly…which is just as well as I’ve discovered my flight out of Bangkok has been cancelled and that I’m going to be here for another week or so.

Thanks to our lovely protesting friends down at the airports, the city is a mix of either very angry people, eager to return home or very happy people, glad to be getting their accomodation and meals paid for and making the most of the extra days here. Seeing as I have no job or anything of particular importance to head to, I am definitely one of the latter. I understand that those with young children and those with companies and clients need to get out of here asap, but the frustrating fact of it is nobody can leave. We’re all in the same boat and a laid back attitude is all you can have when things are utterly out of your control. One of the things you quickly learn when travelling is the fact that you have to be flexible and stress free to survive. A high maintenance approach and organised outlook is more hassle than it’s worth and it’s actually quite remarkable how quickly you settle into a carefree way of living.

Since my last entry things have been full steam ahead. Koh Samui was an interesting island…I think it really is a ‘love it or hate it’ place. Initially it was definitely a hate thing for me. We stayed on Chewang Beach and the main strip there is very Western. This is all good and well but when you have a McDonalds, Burger King and Subway all next to each other outside your hostel, it doesn’t feel that you are really experiencing any Thai culture (because I’m so cultured and sophisticated don’t you know…).

The disappointing streets were not helped by the weather - nothing but rain for 4 days straight. My best purchase in this country has by far been a waterproof mac (a giant bin bag) , coming in a variety of colours (again, a colourful bin bag), elegantly styled to cover your body (you look like a giant walking condom). Who said being a traveller wasn’t attractive?

On the last day on Samui, 4 of us hired a jeep - a metal box affair, no seatbelts (don’t be silly) with a strange clanging sound when it accelerated/braked/moved in general… It was nice to see more of the island  and a few of the sights. This included a ‘Mummified Monk’ (very mixed feelings about the corpse wearing sunglasses…) and meeting a group of Monks who were kind enough to bless us and give us bracelets, before waving a donation box in our faces….and there we were thinking we were special.

It was great to have such a productive day and for such a cheap price. You’re always trying to do things on the cheap and it reminded me of those Sainsburys ‘feed your family for a fiver’ adverts. Mr Oliver may be able to feed a family for five quid but can he hire a jeep and get petrol for the day for less than that? I think not. Jamie Oliver eat your heart out.

The drive back to our hostel was also an interesting experience - thanks to the storms and constant heavy downpour, most roads were flooded, some were closed and some weren’t closed when they really should have been (much to our terror). Coming from an area where flooding has never really been an issue, it was a real eye opener into the damage that it caused. Restaurants and shops were a few inches deep underwater and chairs and tables were all over the place, yet it was incredible how these peope just carried on. They were there, wading in the depths, smiles on their faces and unfazed by the destruction. I think it goes back to having the attitude of not trying to control the uncontrollable…if these people can see their work and homes being swept away, why can’t a bunch of tourists and travellers wait a few days to get back to their perfectly kept homes and businesses? It’s a fine line though when some of those waiting for flights have ill children or medical conditions or family matters to attend to. Should they wait their turn and take it as it comes or do they deserve special treatment or sympathy?

Back to the island hopping though, and once off Samui we had a full day of travelling to get to Koh Phi Phi. This too is one of the things that cannot be avoided and shouldn’t be dreaded as it’s all part of the experience. We were transferred from boat to coach to taxi to box on wheels and back to coach and ferry several times throughout the day - they could have taken us anywhere and perhaps we should have been more concerned but Thai time seems to run a little differently to English - when you are running late on your coach and thinking there is no way you will make your ferry, you find that the ferry has decided to take a break and sit in the harbour long after you’ve rushed to board it. Stress will get you nowhere in this country.

Phi Phi was a fantastic island - stunning, busy, small enough to get around without geting lost and with an incredibly upbeat vibe. After hunting out somewhere to stay - a perilous task in the dark, carrying a rucksack (a bag that is both your best friend and mortal enemy) - we headed to a beach party which was great fun and a great place to meet people, but a lethal event when we had a full day boat trip the following day. After waking up the morning after, picking what was left of my liver off the floor and heading out completely unprpared into the blaring sunlight, we got on a long boat which was to be our base for the day. Despite the hangover it was an amazing day. We snorkelled, hunted for sharks, saw beaches, went through the jungle and visited Maya Bay (where the film ‘The Beach’ was filmed). It was beautiful. Phi Phi is by far up there with the best places I’ve visited.

It’s odd how you can go from such a low on one island to such a high on another, something which I’ve found to be true of the whole trip so far. Homesickness was never something I thought about in great detail so now and again it has knocked me for six. It’s not that I want to go home or that I’d for a second consider leaving, it’s just now and again that you, often out of nowhere, get a stab of missing something about home. Whether it’s your bed, a hug from your Mum or a joke that a friend would find hilarious if they were with you. Bottom line is, you cannot avoid occasionally feeling a little down. Everyone I’ve met has been exactly the same…I think that it’s mainly at the two week mark of being away when it stops feeling like a holiday and the length of the trip kicks in a little more. Like I say though, it’s just as strange how immediately after feeling a little low, you can be on such a high. Something will snap you out of this unhappy bubble with a click of the fingers and you’ll wonder what you were missing in the first place. For example, a few days ago such a click for me was the accidental, but very brutal, killing of a millipede by a friend of mine and more recently, a sudden nosebled out of the blue that made me laugh so hard I cried. It’s exactly for this reason that I think I’m having the most amazing time (the highs in general, not the nosebled/murder). Once you learn that there’s nothing wrong with the occasional low, things become a lot easier.

Following our days on Phi Phi we made the long (and good Lord was it long) journey back up to Bangkok. Not only did we have the bus/boat/taxi scenario…we also had a supposedly 12 hour train journey (which was actually over 15 hours) which took us on the final leg of the trip. Despite having already visited Bangkok, the whole atmosphere and feel to the city gives such a buzz the minute you hit the station platform. It’s a place that’s constantly on the go, constantly crazy and terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. Being stuck here for a few days longer is not something I plan to complain about.

Yesterday was my 19th birthday and I already feel a bit older (perhaps the stress of the taxis and tuk tuks has finally broken me).  We went on a safari day to a park and zoo to celebrate and it was nothing like I’ve ever experienced. You could sit with the tigers and crocodiles, cuddle tiger cubs, ride the elephants, feed the deer, llamas, zebras an giraffes - which suck their necks through the windows so you could give them a hug (and then bathe in anti-bactarial stuff for a few hours) - and watch the lions and bears from a couple of metres away. Pure thrills, nothing but fun.

Drinks on Koh San Road provided the entertainment in the evening and thanks to a birthday badge made for me out of a razor packet, I got many hugs, drinks, kisses and cuddles as well as two birthday cakes.

Who’s a lucky girl then?

Thought it was definitely about time to get the blogging underway, especially as I’ve been in Thailand for two weeks and done more stuff here in that time than I probably would have in 2 months at home.

The first thing that should probably be noted is that I’m still actally here…my 10 days here has turned into 23 as I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving after a week. It really is an incredble place. When I left my parents at the airport, pure panic set in. I was a blubbering emotional mess suddenly wondering what the hell I was doing and wanting nothing more than to crawl back into my own cosy bed and lie there for a week. However, flights booked, family goodbyes over with and backpack heavy on my shoulders, backing out was never really an option. The desire to go did also increase a tad when on the plane, I sat next to an Aussie girl who was leaving London a week early to go home because the English weather was so terrible. After a dodgy sleep on my 12 hour flight I landed in Bangkok, completely shell shocked as I walked through arrivals to find an onslaught of taxi drivers, hotel owners etc etc. screaming at every passer by. Eventually I managed to find my Thailand group leader who would guide me for the week and got a sudden second wind as I began to see the sights of Bangkok. My poor parents would be going absolutely insane if they saw the roads and the way the taxi drove - there is no sense of rules oo regulations here, it’s every man for himself. It should also be noted that the seatbelts in the cab were purely decorative, with only a strap to make it appear safe, but missing the crucial buckle to put it in. Went out for drinks on Koh San Road which was mental street but which had fantastic food and drink and nice low low prices. This road was where we spent the majority of our evenings in Bangkok, especially once the other 11 members of my group arrived and we all discovered a great love of ‘buckets’ - literally a bucket with a half litre bottle of rum/whiskey/vodka, super strength Red Bull (that actually comes in medicine bottles here) and a mixer of your choice. Lethal.

It’s been great fun too, mixing with people from all over the UK from all walks of life. Whilst I was the youngest at 18, the oldest was 31 so it varied quite nicely. All the Thai people we’ve met so far have been very friendly and willing to help but it’s has been hard to get to the point of being so trustworthy. For instance, after I’d changed my flight I had to get a taxi alone to the other side of the city, to go to the place to pay for airline tickets. After haggling with a driver and suffering another dangerous journey through the streets I found myself in a dark empty car park full of Thai men. Let the freak out begin.

Fortunately those dodgy Thai men were there to lead me in the right direction, have a joke with me about how lost I was and showed me me around the building. It’s a thin line though, between trusting just enough and trusting too much…but you can generally tell who is going to appear on the 6 0′clock news as a mass murderer and who is just there to give a helping hand because they need the money you are going to give them for taxi fare etc. On the other hand, I’ve already had two friends who have clearly been a bit to trusting with the Thai women - one ended up with a lady boy and the other in a brothel. Classy.

After 4 nights in Bangkok we got the overnight train to Surat Thani - a train that was so much fun in the most disgusting, cockroach infested way. It was more rough travelling than the nice Quantas flight was, but I think it was actually more fun. We were all together on these bunkbeds in a packed carriage with a couple of fans to keep the air moving at least a little. After arriving in Surat, we got a couple of ferries which (if they actually managed to stay afloat) led us to Koh Phangan where we have spent the past week. It’s a fairly small island that is host to the famous ‘Full Moon Parties’ and we had a great time there. The beach bungalows we stayed in were lovely and the beaches themselves were stunning. It’s the stuff you see in holiday brochures - coconut trees, white beaches and clear seas. Really beautiful. Had a really fun few nights out, particularly one on the main beach which stretches aross the whole bay. It’s lined with bars and bucket stands and Thai men jump though skipping ropes of fire and play fire limbo (we didn’t last long at this game). A few of us befriended a Canadian with a guitar and ended up having a long, loud and slurred drinking session with him. I hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.

The most incredible day by far was just a couple of days ago when we went elephant trekking though the jungle. There were two of us to each elephant and we sat on the neck as it marched it’s way up the hilly area. It felt so surrreal and so overwhelming that by far it will be one of the things that will always stick with me.

 All in all, despite a few minor blips of panic here and there, it’s been an an unbelievable experience. Talking to other travellers too has definitely opened my mind up to what else is out there and I’m keen to see as much as I can. I’m on this island (Koh Samui) for another 3/4days and then making a long journey to Koh Phi Phi (a supposedly stunning place) before heading back up to Bangkok where we hope to go to the Tiger Temple before heading on to OZ. After our initial week together ended, the Thai group I was part of has started to go it’s separate ways but there are still a few of us sticking together. We picked up a stranger on the ferry today and after a 10minute chat he is now staying with us and sharing a room with a friend. It would never happen like that at home and that’s why I think right now I’m so grateful to be here. Being a ‘traveller’, as it were, is like living in a whole other world and I wouldn’t change that for a second.

Right now, it’s time to go find some drinks and have a chill out (because, you know, it’s been such a hard life up till this point…)

It’s a strange feeling knowing you have no commitments and no responsibilities. Whilst having no exams, no school and no job seems like a desirable situation, I’ve found it to be surprisingly dull. Now both my trips to Herne Bay (no, I’m not kidding) and Venice are well and truly over, I’m left with a sense of depression as my weeks have become filled with bugger all and a trip to Sainsbury’s has become the highlight of my day.

The initial relief after the end of exams passed very rapidly and all I find myself left with is a sense of, ‘what the hell do I do with my life now?’ It’s terrifying in a way for I was very happy in my little school bubble (although I’m only realising this in hindsight). Now it appears that I have to make some decisions about where I go from here. The next four months (beginning Monday) will be filled with doing temporary work and saving any cash I accumulate to go towards my trip in November. It’s just these days beforehand where, instead of making money, I’m sitting at home in the PJs with only the ‘Gilmore Girls’ for company.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all been bad. I spent a very enjoyable week ‘raving it up’ in Herne Bay at a club called ‘Talk of the Town’ no less. I use the term ‘club’ very loosely however, as realistically it’s Herne Bay’s version of Sittingbourne’s ‘Life’ (again, a name that speaks volumes).

Can’t complain really though, cheap drinks with drunken friends equals a surprisingly fun few nights. Additionally, making up two (yes, two) routines with a friend and then having a serious ‘dance off’ with two guys (who also had their own rehearsed routine – worrying) really made one of the nights.

Speaking of drunken nights, the best by far has got to be in Venice where walking became a serious issue and the pictures say it all about my sense of dignity (or lack of). Drinking bottles of wine priced at around 3 euros (possibly less) spelled disaster from the word go and walking through St Marc’s Square, physically having to hold onto friends to keep me up right, really was the turning point which yelled ‘classy girl.’

On the plus, our drunkenness encouraged us to befriend a strange old man, a few waiters and an odd Indian guy who I vaguely recall following around for far longer than we should have done.

The part of the evening that I find most amusing however, is when upon returning to our apartment, I bemoaned the fact that the room was spinning (to my poor friends trying to sleep) seemingly clueless about why this was the case. Thinking about it now, I have no idea how I got up our rickety stairs which I stacked it up when sober, and so can only imagine that in my drunken state, I developed super human powers which enabled me to overcome such difficult obstacles (ever seen that advert where the guy is drunk and thinks he’s a superhero saving balloons? – sums me up completely). I was pleasantly surprised however that in the morning I got away with a brief headache and some serious dehydration, whilst my friend, who always escapes the torture that is the hangover, was delightfully left heaving in the toilet with bread and water to hand.

I should take a minute to note that getting drunk was not all we did on our trip, so Venice was not completely wasted on us. In fact, my urge to travel more has only increased and now home, I’m counting down the days until I go away again.

Good luck Thailand, this ‘superhero’ will soon be making a potentially catastrophic visit… 

In the interests of keeping the irrelevant ramblings going, I’ve decided to post another instalment of the embarrassment that is my life.

There are been two shocking events lately that have left me incapable of even attempting to defend my actions (or idiocy). The first was at a friend’s 18^th, where a whole mass of us decided to go out dressed up in a ‘neon rave’ theme and the second was my final day of school, which ended both awkwardly and sickly.

Perhaps I should explain?

The ‘raving’ idea started oh so well…. Sure, we looked like idiots, but we were relatively respectable and capable of walking in a straight line. Pre-Maidstone drinks, a couple of bars and a gentle sprint through the streets later and well…all self respect gone out the window, we were a mass of glowing, brightly coloured imbeciles.

It seemed that in a moment of brilliance we had decided to write ‘rave’ on our faces in lipstick, which inevitably smeared in the most attractive fashion and after drinking for a good 6 hours, we all burned out ridiculously early. Fortunately, a kebab was close to hand and classy people that we are, we all poured in.

Now we were little more than greasy, smudged, glowing, brightly coloured imbeciles.

Lovely.

Moving on swiftly to the final day of school and you have a similar scenario. In fact, replace neon with ‘cops and robbers’ and glow sticks with yearbooks and essentially you have an identical scene.

Shockingly, sobriety did not hold for long and very swiftly did Spoons fill with a swarm of respectable (and not at all slutty) girls dressed in police hats and jump suits. The locals probably thought Christmas had come early until the drunken girls started bawling their eyes out in a manner that just screamed ‘self respect.’

I was not exempt from the crying - in all honesty I was an initiator. Fantastic.

It was only the following day that I remembered a conversation between a friend and I in which we discussed the fact that the way we acted on the last day would probably be how the people from our year remembered us in future.

For the love of God I hope that’s not true.

I feel that in a way I paid penance for my actions with the hangovers that left me in the uncomfortable position of violently heaving into my bin.

Yes guys, that’s the kind of girl you’ve been friends with for the past 7 years.

Lucky you.

After several months of leaving this blog untouched, I thought it was due for an update…even if I’m not leaving for my travels just yet. While technically this was made for my travelling exploits, until I leave I’m going to use it for my general ramblings.

Enjoy.

There have been many-a-moment I cringe about, many-a-morning where I curse obscenities under my breath before unsubtly screaming “fuck” when I look back on my own stupidity, but lately such moments have reached an all-time, all-worrying high.

Some could say that it’s all a learning curve, others could say you’re allowed mistakes …wiser birds would tell the cold hard truth and merely exclaim: “ Liz, You’re a twat.” I can’t help but agree with the latter.

You get the evenings that begin so innocently, so chilled out, a few friends sitting around, having a chat.

A few drinks later and things, well, things tend to deteriorate. A prime example would be a few months ago when having a spur of the moment “dance off” turned into a game of musical bumps…for which I can only be grateful that we were at a house party and not a public place.

It took my bum four days to recover and my head still hasn’t been able to repress the embarrassing memory.

Then you get the evenings with the family, the ones that in films would be so calm and civilised, but in reality are a mix of slurred words and drunken dancing.

Finally there are the almighty, unbelievably drunken evenings that throw all reason out the window, make you think you it’s a good idea to keep downing shots and lull you into thinking dancing like your limbs aren’t attached is actually incredibly sexy.

Not surprisingly, such evenings are followed by mother-of-all-hangovers, which last for at least a full 24 hours and leave you unable to remember why you ever began drinking in the first place.

After several of these ridiculously drunken evenings, hangovers from hell and being ‘tagged’ on Facebook the following morning, I took a vow not to drink for a while.

Shockingly, it didn’t deter my drinking habits for long and only last week did I wake up feeling suicidal. Now, clear headed and finally fully recovered, I can’t help but wonder why I keep doing this to myself. It’s a vicious cycle of drunken fun and blurry vision (both the night before and the morning after). I’m also very aware of the fact that during my gap year, such evenings will need to stop if I ever want to make new friends. After all, nobody wants to befriend the girl ‘rocking on’ to Queen, spilling her beer over bewildered onlookers.

Now that my flights are officially booked, I’ve also been thinking a lot about the full implications of travelling alone. There isn’t going to be anyone to reassure me and tell me that I didn’t make an utter tit of myself the night before. Instead, there will be newfound friends speaking plain truths about my idiocy - something that I clearly need to keep in check.

Still, drunkenness will surely be the least of my worries when I’m backpacking around Thailand, wondering how to ask for directions and quite possibly keen to come straight back home after a day of being there. It will certainly be a learning curve of a different kind.

I can’t help now but feel that I’ve done my first entry justice and rambled for a sufficient amount of time. Hopefully making some use of this site will show some gratitude to my brother who so graciously made it for my birthday (particularly as for his birthday, I returned the favour by buying him cufflinks…he was impressed as you can imagine).

…And as for now?

 I think it’s time to go teetotal.