From city to desert oasis to mountain trekking - 2 weeks in Peru just isn't enough

In the morning when my alarm went off I still didn't feel mentally prepared for going anywhere, despite my packed bags in the living room and my friend coming shortly to take me to the airport. Zoe arrived at around 6am and was a bundle of excitement, too much for me at that time in the morning! On the journey to the airport, she was way more enthusiastic than I was, having been to South America before and knowing what I was heading towards.
The journey was long - Sydney to Auckland, to Santiago, and finally to Lima. As usual, I slept most of the way.
When I arrived in Lima there was a taxi driver there holding a sign with my name on it, which I'd prearranged with the hostel I was staying at. I'd heard such awful stories about Lima, about how dangerous it is, particularly at the airport, so had organised this in advance to save being mugged on my first day!
The taxi drive was about half an hour from the airport. I spent this time getting used to the surroundings in this unfamiliar continent. Latino music was blaring from every direction, car horns were constantly tooting and the roads were dusty and chaotic. By the time I arrived at the hostel and checked-in, my journey had been around 25 hours, and the time difference was -16 hours from Sydney. I went to the bar for a quick beer, mainly to check it out and get talking to people. After a few short conversations, it was 9pm and I was in bed, not to wake 'til midday the next day!

The guys in the hostel bar (all Aussies) suggest I go to visit some Inca ruins, Huaca Pucllana, a short walk away. For the sake of something to do, I strolled down there and had a tour of this huge archaeological site in the middle of the city. It was OK, but it was an eyesore, and although the guide was great, I wasn't overly impressed. I think knowing that I was going to be doing the Inca trail and visiting Machu Picchu in a week's time made it feel insignificant.
After about an hour there, I went to visit the markets, and came to the realisation that I don't need to start buying things on day one of my trip, so I headed back to the hostel (after getting lost for about half an hour)!

Back at the hostel I met a lot of people and had a really good time, mainly in the bar, as usual. The morning following a huge night out, a few of us went into downtown Lima to do a city tour. As in most cities, there are touts everywhere trying to sell you a ticket for something. This one guy promised us an English speaking tour, and so for a small 5 Soles ($2) we followed him to a bus waiting round the corner, waiting to fill up with tourists. Unfortunately for us, the other tourists were of the Spanish-speaking variety, and so we were sat on a minibus driving briefly through the city with no idea of what we were looking at!

The bus then took us through some slums, up the side of a mountain, to the Mirador San Cristobal, which has a viewpoint overlooking the whole city. For someone such as myself, who hasn't been to a South American city, this was an eye-opener. Lima goes on as far as the eye can see, way into the distance, with small shanty houses sprawling into the mountainsides far away. The entire city is covered with a dusty haze, and there is poverty every way you look.
After about 25 minutes of taking the obligatory photos, each one looking the same as the last, regardless of the direction you were facing, we realised our bus had left without us. So our 'English-speaking city tour' which didn't include very much of the city at all and which abandoned us at the top of a mountain, was a bit of a con!!
Luckily we were able to gatecrash another tour bus in order to get back down to where we started.

Sitting back on a bar stool at the hostel, sipping a well earned beer after a day of 'sightseeing', I was planning my next stop on my trip, Huacachina. Huacachina is a tiny oasis in the middle of the desert about 5 hours from Lima, with a population of just 115 people. There's a lagoon in the centre, with a few hostels and restaurants surrounding it. The purpose of visiting this tiny, isolated place, is to go sandboarding in the miles and miles of dunes that surround it.

Two of the guys I'd met in Lima were going at the same time as me, so we jumped on a bus together and headed down the coast to Huacachina. The bus journey was mainly coast line, and we went through a number of small shanty towns on the way. It was really interesting to see how these people live. The buildings are only half built, as though they got to the second storey and just gave up before finishing. The tops of the buildings were generally used to dry clothes on a washing line, which amazed me, because the roads were just dirt and gravel, so any clothes would probably be dirtier once they were dry than when they were first hung out.

Once we arrived, having picked up more backpackers en route, we checked into a tiny resort called Bananas. Bananas reminded me a lot of the kinds of places I've stayed at on my travels in Asia. A small place, with a straw-roofed bar in the centre. The rooms were just basic huts, and there was a small swimming pool, surrounded by hammocks. The first person I met there was a local guy named Lewis. Lewis and I got talking - what I've noticed is that the locals like to talk to you in order to practice their English, which doesn't help me to learn any Spanish! As it turns out, Lewis lived in, of all places, Essex, for about 2 years. So following on from many conversations over the 2 days I was there, there is now a Peruvian guy in the middle of the desert talking with an Essex twang!

With a group of now 5 of us we booked onto a couple of tours to fill the short time that we were there. The first was a Pisco winery tour. Pisco is the national tipple, and is popular with backpackers in cocktails such as a Pisco Sour. We spent a couple of hours with an English-speaking guide, going around a winery and having the wine-making process explained to us, before the all important tasting part at the end.

After this, we went back to the hostel where we got prepared for the sand boarding. Now, I won't lie and say that I wasn't nervous. In fact I was only doing this because it was recommended to me by someone back in Sydney, but generally, throwing myself down a sand dune on a flimsy wooden board isn't something I'd normally put myself through. But when in Rome!

We had a crazy drive to the top in dune buggies. Once we were there, I almost had to be forced to go down. There were about 25 of us altogether, standing there at the top looking out at this vast nothingness. The boys mainly went down the proper way, like snowboarding. However most of us girls went down on our fronts, which I must admit, after getting over the initial fear, was a lot of fun! They drove us to a spot, and just pointed us in the direction that we had to go, which was down 2 or 3 dunes. From there, they'd pick us up, and take us to the next place, where we'd do it again.
Looking back at it, it's pretty spectacular. From the moment you're in that dune buggy ploughing through the sand, to the views across the desert, to then body boarding down the side of what is effectively a sand-mountain. It was certainly an experience and I'm so glad I did it!
Back at Bananas, we sat back and drank the red wine that I'd purchased on our winery tour earlier in the day, and planned the next steps. In Huacachina, once you've done the sandboarding, there isn't much else to do.

So the boys went back to Lima, and I continued with one of the girls that I'd met, a South African girl living in London, named Morgen, onto the next stop, Cusco.
Cusco is the historic capital of the Inca Empire and the town that you go to as a gateway to the Inca trail and other treks that get you to Machu Picchu. It's about a 20 hour bus ride from the desert.

I'm quite familiar with long bus rides, so I wasn't fazed by this at all, until I discovered what the roads were like. Cusco is positioned 3300 metres above sea level, in the Andes mountain range. To get there by bus, you spend the majority of that time winding round mountains, swaying from side to side as the bus meanders along these twisted roads. Because of this, it is almost impossible to sleep. You're also climbing steeper and steeper into the mountains, and the air is getting noticeably thinner as you reach the higher altitude.
By the time we arrived, we were far from refreshed, but were ready to explore this new city.

I instantly fell in love, from the moment I began wandering through the cobbled streets in this colonial-looking town. Far from the dusty, polluted air which hangs over Lima, Cusco is fresh and clear. While we were adjusting to the altitude, which takes a few days, just walking around the city was a breathless struggle. We managed to get around, taking it easy, just browsing through the locals' markets, with a quick stop at a chocolate museum overlooking the plaza, for a much needed chocolate brownie and ice cream.

The climate in Cusco is much colder than the desert that I'd just come from, and I wasn't quite prepared for this, having originally assumed that South America was all sunshine! At the Artisan market I stocked up on Alpaca goodies in preparation for my trek; woollen fleeces, hats and socks, that kind of thing! Although they look ridiculous, by night time once the sun's set, everyone in the city is wearing these big fluffy jumpers!

After a chilled night at the hostel,  which is recommended to help your body to adjust to the altitude (no drinking, smoking, over-eating) Morgen and I spent the next day sightseeing.
Cusco is surrounded by mountains and a huge amount of Inca ruins, so we decided to visit those closest, Sacsayhuamán (pronounced sexy woman)! Once at the top of this huge hill, the view across the city is spectacular! It's just so peaceful, aside from the beeping of taxi drivers, which seems to be commonplace everywhere I go. Every few blocks in Cusco you come across yet another square or plaza, dominated by a water feature or flower garden. You can see all of this clearly from above the city looking down.

Later that day it was time for me to meet the group that I was going to be trekking with over the

 next 4 days. I'd booked my trek a couple of months in advance when I knew that I'd be visiting Peru. I'd chosen to do the original Inca Trail, however only 500 permits are given out a day, and only 200 of those go to tourists, the rest go to tour guides and porters. Therefore it's advised to book ahead.
The original trail is pricey versus other trips such as the jungle trek etc. I figured that as I was here, it seemed crazy to do anything other than the original. Jungle treks which include rafting and mountain-biking etc aren't specific to the area and can be done anywhere in the world. The only downside to the one I chose was the cost. All up, including renting a sleeping bag etc, it came to about US$660, but it was worth every penny and will remain by far one of the best experiences of my life.

So as I was saying - I was due to have an orientation and meet with my fellow trekkers. There were 10 of us altogether. We had a varied age group, from early twenties to late thirties, and there was an Aussie, 2 Kiwis, a Peruvian, 2 Americans, a Canadian, a Taiwanese, an Irish and myself. We had the initial meet and greets before being told what to expect over the coming days.
I then had to go back to my hostel and pack 2 small bags. One was a day bag which I would carry with me the entire trek, which included necessities such as rain coat, sun cream, insect repellent etc. The second bag was for my clothes for the next four days, which a small Peruvian porter would carry for me for the entire trek.
The next morning I had to get up at 3.30am and organise myself in my 6 bed dorm in the dark. Then, after checking out and leaving my backpack in the lockup, I made my way to the main square in the pitch black and drizzling rain to meet my group and catch the bus. When I arrived, I was greeted by two porters handing out coca tea. Coca tea is traditionally drunk by the locals to give them extra energy and keep them alert (it's made using coca leaves, although it's completely legal)! It's also used to assist with acclimatising to the altitude, so is something that tourists come to rely on when in places like Cusco. We drove for 2 hours to get to the start of the Inca Trail. There we met all 16 of our porters, who each carry 25kg of bags/ tents/ food/ chairs/ tables and so on, to make the trail as leisurely as possible for us tourists. Years previously the porters were taken advantage of and would often carry up to 40kg worth of stuff on this 4 day trek, and most wouldn't even have proper walking shoes. Most of these men come from surrounding villages where work is scarce and wages are low, so they travel to Cusco up to once a week to carry our bags and earn themselves some extra cash. In recent years, regulations have been put in place to ensure they're treated fairly - therefore checks are done at the very beginning of the trail to make sure no bags weigh more than 25kg. If they do, they either have to re-distribute the weight or leave things behind. These guys are machines, and half the size I am!
Day one is meant to be one of the easiest, which gave me a bit of a panic about things to come. You only walk 12 kilometres in the whole day, which I thought would be a doddle, considering back in Sydney I walk the 8km journey home most days after work. Of course, I didn't take into consideration the fact that I was already 2720km above sea level, and I was just climbing higher and higher with each step I took. I never really thought of myself as someone that was unfit, but this first day just proved that I was. A few hours in, I noticed that I was having to stop every 10 - 12 steps to catch my breath, as I re-adjusted to the altitude.
When we had our first stop for lunch, I was relieved to be having a break, and also shocked to see that
the porters were so far ahead of us, that they'd had time to put up a huge tent, and set a table for 12 people, us and our two guides - Elvis & Silvio. When we arrived, some earlier than others (I was around the middle of the group) they greeted us with a glass of fruit cordial, and then we took our seats to enjoy a three course buffet meal, starting with a bowl of soup. I was amazed at how they'd had time, and the facilities to prepare this banquet! Using only what they carried on their backs, we had a table full of food, so much that we couldn't possibly get through it. They overloaded us with carbs in order to give us energy to continue with our trek.
With a belly full of food we continued for the next few hours. Elvis and Silvio would often remind us to stop, take a breath, and look around. Whilst trekking you're so focused on your next steps, on this steep, narrow, mountain-side path, that it's quite easy to forget where you are. Every now and again, you have to look behind you and take in this breath-taking view of mountains beyond mountains beyond mountains. You almost need to take a moment just so that you can give yourself a pat on the back for making it this far. To make the trek just that bit harder, the sun was beating down on us, adding to the discomfort of the journey.
Eventually, towards early evening, we made it to our camp. Of course, by the time we arrived, the porters, who had long since overtaken us, were there, tents up, and with dinner cooking. They stood there and applauded each and every one of us as we made it, red-faced and panting. By the time we ate our carb-loaded dinner, most of us were tucked up in our tents by 8pm. I was in a tent with the only person in our group who didn't speak English, Jiu from Taiwan.
At 6am each tent was woken up with a porter waiting outside with a bowl of warm water and a flannel for every person. Then another porter was coming around with hot coca tea. I wish I could say that I slept well - I was brought up camping, and have no issues being 'at one' with nature. But let's just say I had an upset stomach, which was made worse by the squat toilets that looked like they were only cleaned once a year. So in the morning I was feeling far from fresh, and far from prepared for what lay ahead.
After a buffet breakfast which consisted of pancakes and fruit and eggs, we began our day - the toughest day on the trek. As usual, we were long overtaken by the porters who raced ahead at a hundred miles per hour, putting us to shame with their 25kg sacks on their backs.
On this day, you only actually walk a couple of kilometres. The difference is, you're walking up, straight up. There's no point on this day where you're walking on flat ground. Most of the time you're hiking up these uneven, cobbled steps, your legs just begging for a stretch of the path to be level so that they can take a few seconds to recover. It's hard. You have a small backpack on your back, the sun's shining down on you, and you're climbing step after step, using muscles you never knew you had. Our guides had told us a few tricks, such as always steop

2012 in the Land Down Under

They say that the older you get, the faster time passes before you. Well, it’s 2012, the year that I turned the wrong side of 25, and my God has this year flown!
It started off without much of a bang. The months leading up to the festive season were so hectic that I didn’t plan anything for New Years Eve, so I just spent it fairly low key with a few friends watching the fireworks at Coogee beach.

January’s always a good month in Sydney. People are still on holiday so work is quiet; everyone’s still in celebration-mode, and just 3 weeks after the festivities of Christmas and New Years Eve, we celebrate Australia day. This year it fell on a Thursday, and a group of us girls got together and spent the day on ‘the Island’, a floating island way out in Sydney Harbour, only accessible by water taxi, with views across the city. It was quite a swanky way to spend the day, and as you can imagine with any event that I go to, I enjoy any excuse to have the G&Ts flowing!

In February, in a moment of madness, I had signed my life away and agreed to throw myself 14,000 feet out of an aeroplane! My friend Pam, her boyfriend, and myself, drove down to Wollongong, about an hour south of Sydney. Thankfully, in the weeks leading up to the skydive, Pam was panicking so much that she did enough for the two of us. So thanks to her worry and stress, I was surprisingly calm when we arrived! I had a cool dude instructor called Kip who introduced himself to me, then proceeded to harness me up and prepare me for what was to come. We were really lucky, because after a run of miserable weather, it was a beautiful, clear, sunny day. We got in the tiny little plane with about 8 other ‘jumpers’ and their instructors. During that plane ride, the instructor strapped the two of us together, whilst telling me the heights we were reaching. By about 7,000 feet, as I watched the ground get further and further away, I couldn’t believe that we were only half way there.

I’d already asked if I could go first out of the three of us, so once we got to 14,000 feet I was gearing myself up to be pushed out of that door. I watched the people before me get sucked out, and then waited as Kip got us into position. Before I knew it, without a second to have one of those ‘what the hell am I doing' moments, with a massive whoosh, I was out the door and freefalling for however many hundreds or thousands of feet. Those seconds of just falling through the sky feel like forever, and it is such a rush of adrenaline that I can’t even tell you what was going through my head at the time! After a short while, or forever, I forget which, the parachute is released and Kip puts me in a more comfortable position so that I’m sitting, as we’re gliding through the air with the most beautiful scenery beneath me. While we’re gliding, it’s really calm, and I was just enjoying the views around me for the few minutes that it lasted.

Once all of us have landed, there was the typical ‘again, again’ chant (mostly from Pam) and we were all absolutely buzzing. So much so, that there was no better time to find the nearest bar, and enjoy the moment on this beautiful day over a glass of wine!
A few weeks later, in March, it was the time I’d been waiting for, for ages; Mummy and Daddy Lennon were coming to Sydney! I was so excited, after having spent nearly 2 and a half years in this country, for my mum and dad to see how I live and why I love it here so much. They arrived at about 7.30am, so I took the day off work to greet them at the airport. I was there bright and early, waiting, and waiting. The flight landed, and there was still no sign of them. After quite a bit of time passed, I double checked the screen, and of course there was a gate change and I was waiting at the wrong one. So there goes any chance of an emotional reunion! The folks were sitting there waiting patiently for me to come and find them.
Back at my house in the inner west suburb of Newtown, I gave them barely any time to get sorted, before dragging them out on this beautiful Sydney morning to fit in as much as possible before the dreaded jetlag kicked in. The first stop was Darling Harbour for coffee. I know that Darling Harbour is a massive tourist trap, but it’s definitely a well-earned tourist trap. On a good day it looks so stunning, with all the boats in the harbour and the city sparkling in the sunshine behind it.

From there, we walked in the early-morning heat (much to my mother’s annoyance) down to Circular Quay. We all know you can’t go your first day in Sydney without seeing the symbolic icons, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. So of course, before it was even midday, we got ourselves comfortable in the awesome Opera Bar, taking in the sights and sipping on an ice cold ale. We were in holiday mode after all! By mid-afternoon they were well and truly fading in front of me, so we headed back to my place for a quiet evening with a few beers and a pizza, then an early night.

Before my mum and dad arrived, being the über-organised person that I am, I had mapped out their entire itinerary onto an Excel spread sheet, so that not a moment was wasted! On day two, refreshed and ready to go, we went down to the Rocks where we wandered round the markets, then found ourselves in a lovely beer garden where we had a Guinness to celebrate St Patrick’s day. (As I go on, you’ll see where I get my very sociable drinking habits from!

During their stay in Sydney we crammed in as much as possible, with plenty of dinners out and drinks in nice bars, including cocktails on the 37^th floor of the Shangri-La Hotel. We also went up to Sydney’s closest wine region, the Hunter Valley, where I’d never been before despite having lived in Sydney for 18 months by now. Needless to say, a day of tasting wines and eating smelly blue cheese was a day well spent.

We squeezed in a two day trip down to Melbourne, so I could show my mum and dad the city where I spent most of my time as a backpacker. Despite considering myself a Sydney-sider now, I will always have a soft spot for this awesome city. I love the street art, the outdoors cafe culture, the laneways, and the general atmosphere that Melbourne has.

We went down to Phillip Island for the day where we fed kangaroos, saw Koalas sleeping in trees like mini Buddhas; my mum getting just as excited as I always do when I see these furry little creatures. Then the highlight of our trip occurred later that evening when we went down to the seafront, and along with about 100 other people, sat as still as possible, in howling wind and pouring rain, waiting for thousands of fairy penguins to emerge from the ocean. It’s unbelievable to see these gorgeous tiny animals waddling along the beach to their burrows. If you’ve never done it I’d highly recommend it, just perhaps with better weather and without an overload of Japanese tourists! (Always impossible to avoid)!

When we got back to Sydney, I packed the folks off to Cairns so that I could get a few days in at work. Whilst they were there they were experiencing one of Australia’s treasures; spending a day out on a boat and snorkelling in the Great Barrier Reef.

After 2 and a half weeks packed full of sightseeing and spending quality time together, it was time to say goodbye, and I was dreading it! I’ve never felt ‘separation anxiety’ before until 4 o’clock that morning when I waved my parents off, knowing it could be as long as 18 months ‘til I saw them again.

To cheer me up, my mate Zoe had suggested we go on a road trip for the upcoming Easter weekend, so off we went to Port Macquarie, a 5 or 6 hour drive north of Sydney, so that I could get over the ‘orphan’ feeling and just relax somewhere outside of the city.

In May, three friends and I went for a long weekend to Queensland, first stop, Hamilton Island, an absolutely stunning tropical island off the coast of Queensland. It looks like something from the setting of the TV show ‘Lost’ – palm trees, crystal clear sea and stunning beaches. We had a night in the lovely Reef View hotel, where every hotel room has view of, you guessed it, the reef. We only spent a day and a night on the island, which is probably more than enough for four girls who would really prefer not to be surrounded by couples and families. In order to keep ourselves entertained we hired a golf buggy and drove round exploring this little island, which took all of about 30 minutes, and then plonked ourselves in a bar sipping on cocktails and watching the sun set. What better way to spend your time in these surroundings.

After our night on Hamilton Island, we caught the boat across to the mainland, to backpacker central, Airlie Beach. Airlie Beach is an absolute dive. We stayed in a hostel which was quite cool, although a far cry from the hotel we were in the night before. There is a man-made lagoon in Airlie, which is nice to lie by, but you wouldn’t go in there unless you wanted to catch some sort of STD. You only have to walk past it at 2am to see what goes on in there when drunken backpackers who’ve had a few too many, pair up, and think they’re invisible! Need I say more!?

The purpose of our stay here is because it is the gateway to the beautiful Whitsunday Islands, a cluster of 74 islands out in the reef off the Queensland shore. I’d been there before as a backpacker, but this time round we’d paid a bit extra to have a day out on a catamaran, cruising the Whitsundays, soaking up the rays and enjoying the beautiful sights.

Once the boat nears Whitehaven beach, you’re approaching one of the top ten beaches of the world. The sand is finer and whiter than any you’ve seen before, and the sea is the bluest blue. It’s breathtaking.

After about an hour on Whitehaven, we were back on the boat and setting off to go snorkelling in the reef, which none of the girls had done before. I must admit, and I think I've said this before, I'm usually quite disappointed by the Great Barrier Reef, and this time unfortunately was no different. I think it's been ruined by the volumes of tourists that come and go everyday, who are gradually spoiling this natural wonder.

Back in Airlie Beach, we had one night out on the town (keeping our distance from the lagoon) before we had to be back to Sydney and back to work, our holiday in the sun seeming a distant memory.

The next 6 months are normal, or not particularly eventful. I was assigned to a project at work which was stressful and which took over everything for a short time. There was the odd weekend away, and there were nights out, festivals, parties, events, days at the beach and just general life in Sydney. I also moved house, to an Eastern suburb called Elizabeth Bay, where I live with my friends Emma and James, an English couple I met when I was a backpacker in Sydney.
So this brings me to where I am now; 11.47 on a Thursday night, writing my blog and not tucked up in bed as I should be.
I have dusted off my backpack and it's sitting on the floor in front of me, clothes bursting out and general chaos is surrounding me in my living room. Tomorrow at 5am my alarm will wake me, and I'll be preparing for my next adventure, my first one since I put my backpack away and got settled in Sydney.

Updates to follow...

2011 in the Land Down Under

As I sit here on this sunny Sunday afternoon in Sydney, I realise that almost 2 years has passed since I last updated my blog. Shame on me, I know.

So I thought the best thing I could do without boring you with my life story, is to just tell you about some of the highlights since I’ve been settled in Sydney. Firstly, my 6 week contract at my job with Medibank Health Solutions went on and on, and I’m now a permanent member of staff, about to reach 2 years with the company. The plan initially was to stay with them for the duration of my contract, before travelling to parts of Australia that I hadn’t visited the first time round. That all changed when they offered to sponsor me, which meant I would be put on a 4 year Business visa, an opportunity that I couldn’t decline. So here I am, making the most of having only 4 weeks of annual leave a year – to those who know me, that’s a huge struggle! I’ve also committed to a job for the first time in my working life. I can’t complain though as I’ve been able to develop in my career and also stay in this country that I love so much.

I celebrated my second Christmas, backpacker style, by going to a Dance & House music festival on Bondi Beach, with every other European ‘orphan’ in Sydney at the time. The sun was shining and, as always, the drinks were flowing. Celebrations over the next few days continued into New Years Eve, with another festival and another excuse to drink in the Sydney sunshine.

Come January, things started to settle and I was back at work and looking for somewhere to live. Still being relatively new to Sydney, I was open to suggestions of where I should move to. There are so many cool suburbs around Sydney, all with something different to offer. I ended up registering with a house-share website, which put me in touch with 2 girls, living in an awesome house in Newtown, with a room to rent. I’d never been to Newtown before, so off I went to view the house, meet the girls, and see what this inner west suburb has to offer. For those of you who are familiar with London, it’s kind of like Shoreditch, with all its funky bars and cheap and cheerful eateries. I walked up the high street and couldn’t believe the number of restaurants – Thai, Japanese, Vietnamese, Italian, Greek, Mongolian, Mexican – you name it, Newtown has it. And it’s cheap! There are pubs on every corner with some quirk like a rooftop bar or huge beer garden. It was safe to say that I already knew I’d like living here. I got to the house, which I fell in love with straight away. It had a huge open plan living and kitchen area, and an outside deck, which is a rarity when you live in the city. The girls, a kiwi and an ozzy, were really nice, and so I took the room and moved in a week later. At last, I could come home to a peaceful house and my own space after far too long in a hostel. I was finally starting to feel like things were coming together.

As you all know about me by now, I live for my holidays, and any opportunity I get to go away, I’ll take. Easter fell on the same weekend as the Ozzy public holiday Anzac day, which meant we had 5 days off. I couldn’t possibly waste a long weekend like this, so my friend Lou and I hired a car and drove 10 hours north to Byron Bay, the popular hippy beach town. Being that it was a public holiday, accommodation sold out months in advance, but thankfully Lou’s work had an office nearby, that was a converted house. So the guys who worked there put up some camp beds in one of the empty rooms, and there we stayed, free of charge!

I’d been to Byron a few times before, on my travels, and absolutely loved it. All you do is lay on the beach and sample the local cuisine. Now that I was there as a responsible working resident rather than as a backpacker as I was previously, we were able to go to the nice bars and drink cocktails, and the better restaurants, rather than the crappy, cheaper places I would’ve gone to before. It was great, the perfect way to spend the long weekend.

Back in Sydney it was just the usual. Working hard during the week, and socialising lots at the weekend, whether that was at the beach, the local pub, or trying new places. Living in the city there is always something going on. There’s a bar opening here and new restaurants to try there. You really don’t have an excuse to stay at home on a Saturday night. I was loving life in Sydney.

By June, ready for another holiday (it’d been two whole months since the last one) I was invited to visit a friend, Conor, in Wellington, New Zealand. I’d met Conor back when I was a ‘long-termer’ at the hostel in Melbourne. He was Irish, and had moved to New Zealand as, ‘the next best thing’ after exhausting all his visa options in Australia. So, with a long weekend approaching (thanks to another public holiday) I booked my flights and off I went, to a country I’d never been to before but had always wanted to visit.

Aside from the pouring rain for the first day or so, I loved Wellington. It’s really small, probably too small for me to want to live there, but it had a lovely feel about it. It reminded me a bit of Adelaide, with one main street where all the bars and restaurants were close together.

On a day when the sun was shining, we walked round to the harbour where there are fantastic views of the mountains in the distance. It’s a really stunning city, and one I’d like to visit again in the summertime.
Coincidentally, of all the hotels I could’ve booked in Wellington, I chose the one which was located right next door to the NZ office of Medibank Health Solutions, so I’d promised our HR Manager that I would pop in for a cup of tea while I was there.
After a weekend which flew by (mainly due to alcohol consumption and not a lot of sightseeing, except for a quick visit to the museum) I said my goodbyes to Conor and his mates, checked out of my hotel, and popped into the office, as promised. When I got there, the HR Manager, Letitia, who I was visiting, told me frantically, “I’ve been on the phone to David (my manager in Sydney) I’ve told him you’ll be working here, and I’ve spoken to IT and got them to set you up on our system, so that you can log on tomorrow. Now go and enjoy the rest of the day.” Whilst she’s saying all this, I’m standing there, suitcase in hand, completely baffled. I was popping in en route to the airport, to fly back to Sydney. What I didn’t know, because of course I was on holiday and hadn’t been watching the news, was that a volcano had erupted all the way over in Chile, and as a result, there was a huge ash cloud over the Tasman Sea, stopping any planes from flying between NZ and Australia. Upon hearing this, I thought, “it’ll be OK; I’ll just head to the airport and wait”. I didn’t realise at the time that there were thousands of other tourists doing just that, and that they’d be stranded for days and days.

So, on instruction from Letitia, I went back next door and checked back into the hotel, thinking “this is cool; I’m here for another night. Insurance will cover the additional costs etc”. Obviously I didn’t realise at the time that insurance doesn’t cover natural disasters.

So anyway, the next day, I checked out of my hotel, and went to work, suitcase packed, expecting to fly later that day. Letitia kindly took me back to her house at lunchtime to wash all my clothes, because of course I was only supposed to be in Wellington for the weekend and had run out of clean underwear!
I started working, thinking myself lucky that I was able to do this and didn’t have to eat into my annual leave, and stayed on hold with Qantas, waiting for any updates. After ages on the phone, I found out that all flights were STILL cancelled, and so after work, I went next door and checked back into the hotel. This continued for days. Every morning I checked out, expecting to fly again, and every day I was told there were further delays. After I think the 4^th day, I’d spent about an additional $600 on hotels, so I went to stay with Conor and his mates.
All this time I was absolutely loving this situation! I got to know all the guys in our Wellington office, I got to spend more time with my friends, AND I actually did a bit of sightseeing on my lunchbreaks. One clear day Letitia took me up the cable car (Wellington residents living in the mountains all have cable cars to access their homes – it’s awesome)! I stood at the top overlooking the entire city and the mountains beyond, it was stunning. And something else to tick off my list whilst I was there, as I hadn’t seen much else aside from the inside of bars and pubs!
By now, I’d had 2 weekends in Wellington, and was really enjoying the change of scenery. Every day when I called Qantas, I hoped I’d be told there were still no planes flying. On the tenth day, I did my usual morning routine of packing my suitcase and taking it with me to the office. As usual, I sat on hold to the airline for about 30 minutes, only today, I was flying. I was surprised that I actually felt gutted!! I was having such a good time on this extended holiday. Wellington’s so small that it’s just so much calmer than Sydney. The people are lovely, and as an added bonus it’s much cheaper than Sydney.

So today, off I went back home, to find that my housemates had taken full advantage of my unexpected absence and raided my wardrobe and eaten all my food! I was so disappointed to learn the next day that the volcano had erupted again and that all flights were cancelled – I wanted to stay there that little bit longer. But anyway, I can’t complain; thanks to this natural disaster my long weekend turned into a 10 day working holiday!!

A couple of months later, and of course, feeling the need for another holiday, but somewhere hot this time, Lou and I flew up to Cairns, northern Queensland, for a mini-break. We stayed in the awesome hostel that is Gilligan’s, the backpacker ‘resort’. Gilligan’s is well known to all backpackers travelling the east coast. It’s got a great bar, a lagoon-type pool and it’s huge; just a non-stop party hostel! Lou and I, at the grand old age of 25, were probably 2 of the older people staying at the hostel, but we enjoyed it nonetheless!

This holiday, much like with Byron Bay a few months earlier, was purely for relaxation during the day and partying during the night. Cairns has a man-made lagoon on the seafront, where we spent our days sunning ourselves in the 30 degree Queensland sun. Sydney was in the peak of winter at this point, so we relished the opportunity to sit in the sunshine. On the last day, after a huge bender which saw us in the Reef casino til the early hours of the morning, we’d booked to go on a boat trip, where I’d finally learn to dive. Lou was an experience diver, but I’d never done it, despite having travelled to so many countries that offer diving lessons.

Somehow, we dragged ourselves out of bed after very little sleep, and made it to the marina to catch our boat. The trip was brilliant – it took us right out to the reef where the water was crystal clear. It was a bit overcast (don’t ever let this fool you into a false sense of non-burn security – we paid the price for making this mistake). We were getting ready to do our dive and filling in the necessary paperwork. You know, the usual ‘we take no responsibility should you lose a limb to shark attack’ etc, when we came across the question which asked when we were next due to fly. Well, our flight was at about 7pm that evening. Unbeknownst to me, but what Lou should have known being a certified diver, and what the lady who sold us this trip should have told us, was that you cannot fly within 24 hours of diving. It’s got something to with the pressure of being a certain level below the water, and then being at a certain height in the air (I forget the specifics) but anyway – it can be fatal. I was so annoyed!! For the first time after so many opportunities to learn, I was willing and ready to get that oxygen tank on my back and plunge myself into shark infested waters, and I couldn’t!!! Just my luck! So now, here we were, out at sea, hungover, and not able to do what we came here for. We had a bit of a snorkel around, saw the usual fish that I’ve seen a hundred times before whenever I’ve snorkelled in the reef, then headed back, unsatisfied and burnt!

Still, as always with any holiday like this, it wasn’t ruined and we had a great time chilling out and escaping the hustle and bustle of Sydney for a weekend.

You will not be surprised when I tell you that about 3 weeks after I got back from Cairns, I was off again for yet another long weekend. This time, myself and my friends Danielle, Graham and Lewis, flew to Auckland for the Rugby World Cup. Of course, I couldn’t care less about the rugby. For me, it was all about the atmosphere, the chance to see another NZ city, and of course, I admit, the boozing. Also, my friend Conor from Wellington was flying up to join in the festivities.

Now, it will come as no surprise to any of you, that the four days I was there were spent mainly in the pubs, aside from my one effort to do something touristy, when we went up the 'Sky Tower', overlooking the entire city. I’d never been to Auckland before, and I still feel as though I haven’t really been, because ashamedly, it’s all a drunken blur. But that’s what you’re supposed to do on these occasions aren’t you?? Go to a rugby game, or alternatively sit in the pub and watch the rugby. Well as I have no interest in the sport itself, it freed up my time a bit more. So this was time well spent at the bar, while the boys were glued to the TV screens. As much as I say I had a great time, because we were all there together, I regret that I didn’t do and see more. But that’s fine; it just gives me an excuse to go back!

A month later, when I’d just about recovered, I had to go to Melbourne for work. This was a nicely timed business trip, because it fell over the first weekend of the well known races. My friends out in the ‘burbs where I used to live, invited me to go with them to the Caulfield cup. So I went to work for a few days, then on the weekend, got dressed up and into the limo, and off to the races for the day, with all the guys from Frankston. I’m not much of a gambler – in fact I don’t even know how to place a bet – but any excuse to get into a frock and go out for drinks with the boys (and their girlfriends) and I’m there!

We’re in October now and nearly at the end of 2011. By now I’ve been away from home another year, and I’m well overdue a visit. So I tie this in with my Granddad’s 90^th birthday. So, on a rainy 13 degree day in Sydney’s ‘Summer’, I flew back to London, for it to be 11 degrees and sunny in Winter. Don’t be fooled into thinking that the weather in Australia is sunny all year round, because that, it ain’t. In fact most of that summer was a washout.

Anyway, I went home. I landed at the crack of dawn, at something like 5.30am. My sister was due to pick me up, but she was nowhere to be seen. I was quite relieved in a way because I was anticpating a tearful reunion. A while went by and there was still no sign of her. At this point, unprepared, I had no English money and no phone. So I sat, and waited. I suddenly became jealous of all these people coming through the gates and having these big welcomes from their friends and families, like that opening scene on Love Actually. I waited. My sister’s useless! She eventually came to get me god knows how long later. It felt like forever. But anyway who cares, I was home!!! And how much I love it. It was the end of November so of course there were Christmas decorations everywhere. And doesn’t it feel like Christmas! Being the overgrown child that I am at this time of year I just got overwhelmed with excitement. Christmas in hotter climates just doesn’t do it for me!

My mum and dad came to get me from my sister’s house, and it felt so nice to be back with them again. Once I got home, I whipped out my schedule. I was only home for 12 days, so I’d had to literally book people into slots of day time and evenings so that I could fit everyone in. I also wanted to make the most of my time at home with my family.

The 12 days were hectic. We had a great celebration with my Granddad, who was chuffed that I’d flown all the way round the world to celebrate with him. I figured that as he’d only turn 90 once, and there will always be other Christmases, it was well worth coming home for his birthday rather than Christmas itself.

Also while I was at home I wanted to spend time in London, which still remains one of my favourite cities in the world, especially at Christmas time! So my friends and I were up in the city, seeing the lights, wearing our Santa hats or reindeer antlers, and enjoying the festivities. You just can’t beat London at this time of year, especially with things like the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park to keep you entertained. For those who haven't been - you need to pay a visit, if anything, just for the ice skating and the mulled wine (obviously not at the same time)!
At the end of my holiday, I felt that it really wasn’t long enough. As much as I looked forward to coming back to the sunshine in Sydney (only to be disappointed because the weather was still crap) I felt like I needed longer. Even if only to spend it with the folks and my much loved cat! At the airport with my mum and dad, we had a few wines, perhaps too many, had the usual teary farewell which I always dread (mum – take note of this – you make me feel guilty) and I headed back to the land down under, with an extra suitcase loaded with new clothes. I landed at 7am, and in the true style of someone who won’t waste even a day of annual leave, I went home, showered, and went straight to work, after nearly 30 hours of travelling. It probably wasn’t my most productive of days, but it was a day of leave saved!

In Sydney, the weather was hit and miss, so I can’t say that summer was in full swing, but it was definitely getting close to Christmas. Everyone was starting to relax a bit more and look forward to the upcoming break, and work was quietening down with everyone going on their holidays. It’s a good time of year in Australia, and such a contrast from the cold, wintery London that I was in just weeks before.

Just 2 weeks after coming back from England, some other ‘orphan’ friends and myself went up to the Sunshine Coast for Christmas. I’d already spent two Christmases in Sydney, so I welcomed the chance to do something different. There were 7 of us altogether who rented a beautiful house just a few minutes’ walk from the beach. We all arrived at different times or days depending on our work, so once we were all there we did a huge shop to see us through. It was unbelievable how much food and alcohol could be consumed in such a short time. We really went to town, and on Christmas day had a huge feast, starting with my all time favourite breakfast of eggs with smoked salmon and plenty of bucks fizz to wash it down. We did the typical Ozzy tradition of BBQ’d everything for our main meal. It was great! After we ate, we strolled down to the beach, which of course was packed, but thankfully not nearly as busy as the beaches in Sydney. One thing I’ll never tire of in this country will be Christmas on the beach with my mates.
So that brings us to the end of 2011. What a year! Holidays galore. So we don’t have Europe on our doorstep here, but you can still make the most of long weekends and see as much of the country as you can in short breaks here and there. For someone like me, that’s enough to keep me going, for now!