Back in Balinese Heaven

So here I am, 7 months, 12 days, and 4 holidays later, back at the airport for what is about to be my 15th flight this year. I spent the summer at home, working, going to festivals, and of course the odd sneaky holiday, and now I'm off again.

After 14 hours sitting in the Plaza Lounge at Kuala Lumpur airport, making the most of the unlimited free beer, I am about to board a flight to go back to the wonderful place that is Bali.

Back in July I applied for my second year working holiday visa in Australia and it was granted. With the wonder that is Air Asia, and their incredibly cheap flights, I decided to stop somewhere en route to Perth. I have a list the length of my arm of places I still want to go, but Bali is such an easy option as flights there are so cheap. The last time I was here 7 months ago I did nothing but drink and sunbathe - not that this is a bad thing - but now that I'm on my own I decide to go back to Bali and do the things I should've done last time, the 'cultural' things.

First things first, after landing,I get a taxi and head into the dreaded Kuta. I'm not Kuta's biggest fan, but as it's taken me 36 long hours to get here, I just want a couple of days to sit by a pool and not think about doing anything. I've pre-booked this hotel, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how nice it is. I've paid about 300,000 Rupiah a night, roughly 20 pounds, and I have a nicely decorated room, a lovely pool and free breakfast, in a great location right in the heart of Kuta.

I arrive at 3pm and by now, after all the beers and lack of sleep, I'm really struggling to keep my eyes open. After a quick wander around the narrow streets, dodging motorbikes whizzing past, I buy a few things, stop for a 30minute back massage, then crash out on a sun lounger by the pool for about an hour. I feel like I could sleep for a week but I need to regulate my body clock, so I get showered and head out for dinner. I'm still in bed by about 9.30 that night!

The next day, refreshed, and awake at about 7am, I wonder what to do with my day. I really don't like Kuta, and there's nothing here that I want to do or see. Nothing at all. So after breakfast, in the blistering heat, I find my spot by the pool and that's me sorted for the whole day! By mid-morning I'm talking to Marc, a German guy who's currently living here and studying the language. Meeting Marc was brilliant, because not only is he a fellow traveller, but, like me, he lives to travel. The stories he tells make me so envious, and in the end what came from our conversations are just more places that I've now added to my 'list'.

It's a Saturday, so Marc doesn't have school. So, in typical Kuta-style, we hit the beers by about 11am! A large beer here (the size of a wine bottle) costs not even GBP 1.50. So for the rest of the day, Marc and I sit by the pool in this lovely hotel, exchanging stories and drinking more beer, stopping only to get lunch.

I've now got someone to hit the town with later. The only good thing about Kuta is it's nightlife, so after the first of many traditional Indonesian dinners, Marc and I head to Sky Gardens, the same bar I was in 7 months ago. As you can imagine, after an all day drinking session, we were rather drunk, but we later managed to navigate our way through these tiny laneways and make it back to our hotel.

The next day, feeling very worse for wear indeed, I'm checking out and dragging my backpack through these laneways in the blazing sun to catch a bus and then a boat. I'm off to the tiny island of Nusa Lembongan, east of Bali.

When I decided to come back to Bali I bought the Lonely Planet guide to help me decide where to go. I'd got to about the third page when I saw a photo of this beautiful island, then that was it, I closed the book and decided this was where I was going.

When I get off the boat, two Balinese girls are holding a sign up with my name on it. They help me carry my bags (which are bigger than them), and we jump on a tuk tuk and go to the Mainski Resort. The hotel is set on the beach, with an infinity pool overlooking the sea. It's beautiful. Although once I've checked in, I can't handle the heat in my hungover state, so, I'm embarrassed to say, I spend most of my first day alseep in my room! And what's worse is that the island doesn't have electricity during the day, so I had no fan or a/c, just a boiling hot room and a hangover to get over!
That evening, I sit with a Bintang (I know I know) and watch the first of many sunsets from the hotel bar. (We all know how I love a sunset).

Refreshed the next morning, I go out on a boat with a Dutch couple and a Balinese guy called Tony, and go snorkelling, and then to a part of the island only accessible by boat, called Mushroom Bay. It's really picturesque here, with just a small white sandy beach, and calm sea with the odd boat bobbing up and down. We stay for a coffee, then lunch, followed by a couple of beers, which the Dutch couple treat me to. They're retired and living in Northern Bali. I thanked them for paying, and they said in return, when I'm their age and meet a young backpacker travelling alone, I should do the same for him/her.

After lunch I lay in the sun for a couple of hours til Tony comes back to pick us up. While I'm lying there I can barely handle the heat. I love the sun, but I've never felt anything like this, my skin was stinging. And.... being alone, I can't put suntan lotion on those hard to reach spots, so I had to lie in the same position all day so I wouldn't burn my back, and took several dips in the ocean to cool down.

Back at the hotel that afternoon I meet 2 Ozzy girls. In true Ozzy style, within half an hour they're offering me a place to stay should I ever go anywhere near where they live in Australia! I've now found some drinking buddies for the next few days, which go something like this:

Wake up at about 6.30 to the sound of roosters. Shower, then breakfast on the beach. Followed by a morning of sunbathing by the pool, then lunch. Followed by more sunbathing, a shower, dinner, then a few Bintangs while watching the sun set. I'm so relaxed, that at night I'm usually in bed by 10! And then I get up and do the same thing the next day. I don't think I can say I've ever been more chilled out in my life! It was lovely, and what made it better was that the staff there were great. They remembered everyone's names and would do anything for us.

One particularly hot afternoon, they called in some women from a local beauty salon to give us all a relaxing massage on our sunloungers, for about 50,000 Rupiah which is approx GBP 3.50. It was the best massage I've ever had.

On my last day, the girls have gone. So I speak to some of the girls at the hotel, and they agree to give me a tour of the island once their shift is finished. So after a morning of reading my book by the pool, I'm on the back of a motorbike whizzing round the island being shown the sights.

From a point in the hills we can see right over the island, and it's amazing. The sea is clear blue and full of bright coral, and the island is so tropical and green. It's really small, and we drive through villages where I get to see the locals at work out on their fishing boats.

After my tour, I relax and eat my last meal (I worked my way through every Indonesian dish on the menu) and then get ready to leave the next day.

In the morning, I begrudgingly get on the boat back to the mainland, and then jump on a bus up to Ubud. Ubud is a very spiritual, yoga-retreat type place with a real hippy vibe. It will undoubtedly start to get commercial since being featured in the book and film Eat Pray Love. This is where I've come to do the cultural things in Bali, and also to see a side of the place that isn't just beaches and sunsets.

I check in to my lovely little bungalow just off the main road, and walk down Monkey Forest street to the Monkey Forest. There are bananas for sale, and the sign reads 'Don't try to hide these from the monkeys - they WILL find them'. And so I decide against buying any bananas. Instead I just walk around this Tomb Raider style forest, where there are more monkeys than I've seen anywhere else in Asia. I see people walking around with bananas under their t-shirts or in their bags, only to then get pounced on by about 6 monkeys! It's funny to watch, but I'm also a little nervous as I walk around! I take a seat and ask one of the guys who works there (his job is to stop the monkeys attacking people) to take my photo. As I sit down, a little monkey runs over and starts rummaging through my bag. Finding no bananas, it then starts to pull everything out. I'm willing the guy to hurry up and take my picture, with a fake smile on my face, as I watch this monkey biting into my bottle of water. I stay here until it starts to rain (which it does a lot while I'm in Ubud) and then head back to my hotel.

It's really peaceful here, and you can hear all the sounds of the wildlife around you. Also it's much cheaper than on the little island of Nusa Lembongan, despite being 20 times as busy.

The next day I've organised for a guy from my hotel to take me on a tour around the area on the back of his motorbike. First we go to the rice terraces, which really are spectacular, and much more interesting than they sound! As we're driving, I get to see this amazing lush green scenery, something you don't see in places like the dreaded Kuta. We then stop at a temple, where I have to wear a sarong to cover myself up, and I see a mixture of Balinese and Western people praying infront of the Buddha. There's also a large pool with water flowing from the edges, where the local people are queueing up to shower. I'm told by my guide that they believe it's holy water and will bring good luck. I give this one a miss.

Next stop is Mount Batur volcano. We drive to the top of a hill where we have amazing views over this huge volcano and a giant lake. The views are breathtaking, but spoilt by the local people pestering you to buy anything from a postcard to a statue carved from wood. They just don't leave you alone long enough to take a few photos, and I find it really, really irritating. I don't want any postcards or statues, or beads or bracelets, LEAVE ME ALONE! After just a few minutes I'm on the bike whizzing back the way we came. I just can't handle them!

In total I'm out for about 3 and a half hours. By the time I get dropped back to my bungalow I can barely walk. These motorbikes just aren't designed for someone to be sitting on them for so long. So I give my backside a rest and sit on my veranda, reading my book and drinking a Bintang.

That afternoon I met a Dutch guy in the hotel pool. He's also travelling alone, and joins me later for a few beers on my veranda. Not long after, it starts to rain. The rain gets heavier and heavier until soon the area around us is flooding. The staff at our hotel are wading through the water which is now about 3 inches high, with their trousers rolled up to their knees and their umbrellas up. But we're ok because my fridge is fully stocked, so we don't need to go anywhere. And so when our bottles are empty I step into my room to go and get a couple more. All of a sudden I'm stepping into inches of water. My room has flooded. And not just a little bit, enough that my flip flops are floating around the room. Worst of all is that my backpack is on the floor. I can't believe my luck! In the bathroom there's a pipe in the ground that is just gushing rain water into my room. And.... there are plug sockets on the floor. It's amazing that I didn't electrocute myself. I chuck everything from the floor onto my bed and then wade through the flooded grounds of the hotel to Reception where I scream at them to help me! They come racing through and before I know it they've taken all my stuff and put me in a dry room on higher ground. Thank goodness. The rain really is unbelievable. So this puts an end to the nice conversation I was having with my new Dutch friend. The rain's so bad we can't go anywhere. And now I'm in a bad mood because everything I own is soaking wet and I have no where to put it for it to dry!

In the morning I have breakfast on my balcony, and then in the muggy damp air I take a stroll up the road to my cookery school! Yep, I'm going to learn to cook, 'Balinese-style'! After everyone's been introduced, out teacher, Ketut, leads the way to a nearby Balinese food market. Here we buy all our ingredients for the day, and see how the locals do their food shopping. Back at the school, we take our places. There are about 15 of us in the classroom; this number consists of Dutch, Italian, French, Chinese, American, Australian and me, representing England!

We're all quite disappointed to learn now that we won't all be cooking. Infact none of us will. Instead, we'll be watching Ketut preparing all the meals and talking us through what he's doing. It's a real shame because we all came to the class expecting a hands-on day where we'd be making our own meals. (I'm secretly quite glad about this because I know how absolutely terrible I would be - I had started to get flashbacks of cookery classes at school when everyone would crowd round my oven at the end of the lesson to see how badly I'd messed up my food)!

So anyway, after we get back from the market, we spend about 4 hours watching Ketut making the food, and we take notes in the books we've been given. The bonus here is that everything we taste is unbelievable, and tastes just as it should! Over the course of the day I start to regret having breakfast, as we taste about 8 different curries! By the afternoon, I've met some nice people, enjoyed myself, eaten some delicious traditional Balinese food, and feel ready for a nap!

Later, I have to pack my bags, leaving aside the things that are still dripping wet from the night before and chucking those into a carrier bag. I make my way back to Kuta, which isn't such a bad thing as my German friend Marc is there to meet me at the hotel.

I have one last night in Bali, which is pretty much like the last night I was in Kuta. Lots of cocktails after an all day drinking session by the pool. In the morning I quickly rush around snapping up the bargains that Kuta has to offer - pirate DVDs for 60p each, cheap jewellery and so on.

And so, I say goodbye to the dreaded Kuta, and to this island that I'm growing to love more each time I come here, and head to the airport, hungover, tired, and with a carrier bag full of wet clothes, and get ready to fly to my next destination....

Last stop, the Beautiful Bali

Back in May, the guys in Frankston all clubbed together and bought be $500 of Flight Centre vouchers for my birthday, which I put to very good use and booked a flight to Bali from Sydney with. Not long after booking the flights I got in touch with Tom, who I'd travelled a fair bit with over my first 6 months or so, and told him that I was going. The reason I told him is because I know that Tom is a more avid traveller than myself, and also because I know he loves Bali. I figured there'd be a chance that he could join me there.
Well, a week or so before I left Australia, I had an email from Tom, who was in Thailand at the time, to say he'd see me there, and that I could leave everything to him, he'd organise accommodation etc. So as you can imagine I was over the moon. I was seeing Tom for the first time in 10 months, I had my very own tour guide, and he was sorting everything out, all I had to do was get there.
So I left Australia behind and flew, via Darwin, to Denpasar, Bali. Of course, as with most journies I make, it was a bit of a disaster, delays/ storms etc, but at least I arrived safely, albeit a little later than expected. I was a little nervous arriving in Bali on my own, only because you hear such horror stories about people putting drugs in your luggage etc. What didn't help was that just before I left Oz, a guy told me I look like Schapelle Corby. For those of you that don't know, she's an Australian woman who got caught smuggling drugs into Bali and is now serving a 20 year sentence in a Balinese prison, despite claiming that the drugs were planted on her.
So, going through immigration, I acted as naturally as I could, having almost convinced myself that I was about to get in trouble for something I hadn't done!
Once through, (a huge relief), stepping out of the airport took me back to a year ago when I was last in Asia. I was met by that familiar wall of humitidy, and that distinctive yet undescribable smell in the air. I was instantly happy, just to be around the hustle and chaos of traffic, Balinese men talking loudly and animatedly to eachother, and lots of other bewildered travellers. Tom had already warned me, 'don't let them carry your bags for you' and 'go to the official taxi rank' and so I did. I ignored the guys offering to carry my backpack for a fee of 20,000 rupiah, which of course meant nothing to me, and the men in blue shirts shouting 'taxi taxi'. Instead, I queued up, told the man at the desk where I was going, agreed and paid a price of 50,000 rupiah, (this was non-negotiable so I just went along with it, not knowing how much it was) and got in a taxi with a genuine taxi driver, who taught me some Balinese words during the 25 minute journey to Kuta (words which of course I forgot the minute I got out of the taxi).
I arrived at the hotel quite late, where Tom said he'd leave a key for me. There was no key there, and so I chucked my bags in a corner and wandered through the hotel gardens to the bar, where Tom, and the 3 friends he was travelling with, were sitting at a table full of loads of empty Bintangs, the local Balinese beer, and a couple of fresh ones on the go. I recognised the people he was with, despite having never met them before, from his photos. There was Nicola and Marcus, a couple from Watford, and Stuart (aka Boats because he works on the oil rigs in Iraq - or something like that) from Scotland. I went over, sat down, ordered the first of many Bintangs, and got acquainted with everyone.

Despite being about 11pm, and my bodyclock set about 4 hours ahead, we sat there for hours, drinking and sharing stories about our travels.
The following day we didn't leave the pool area, and instead just sat, chilling out and drinking Bintangs until it was time to go out for the evening.
The night life in Kuta is just insane. As you walk along the narrow pavements, down these narrow lanes with moped after moped whizzing by and nearly knocking you flying each time, you come to a huge stretch of road with bright neon lights, and endless bars and clubs. One bar we went to, the Sky Garden Lounge and Bar, was where the Bali bombings had been years ago. Security here is tight - bouncers everywhere, they check your bags and frisk you down as you walk in, and only allow a few locals inside. It's a complete contrast from the bars and clubs I'd been to in every other part of Asia. The drinks specials in this place were just crazy, and before you know it we were all drunkenly taking over the dance floor.
After Sky Garden we went down to Bounties, a club really popular with every single Ozzy that's in Kuta (and that's a lot). We spent the rest of the evening in here, drinking bright blue or red cocktails out of giant fishbowls. Fair to say that by the time we left we were all well and truly drunk, but it'd been a brilliant night, and all for so cheap. (You wouldn't expect to spend more than about £1.50 on any drink - including a fishbowl - in Bali).
Remember when I was in Byron Bay and my camera broke? Well on my last day in Sydney I bought a cheap camera just to get me through the last 2 weeks of my trip. Being the happy snapper that I am, I'd taken about a million photos this evening.
Leaving Bounties, Nicola and I were walking just ahead of the boys. As we came out of the club, we were surrounded by Balinese men wanting to offer us a lift on their taxi bikes. This isn't unusual and so we weren't concerned at all. They were jumping around and laughing and joking, and we were joining in, until next thing I know my bag is broken. When I look inside, my camera's gone, after having bought it only about 3 days previously. As with anything like a camera or a phone, I don't actually care about the object, just the loss of what's on it. I was well and truly gutted. And although we knew it had to be one of these guys, it's not worth the trouble of trying to get it back. That's the only bad experience I've had with any Asian person in all of my travels.
So that night, particularly upset as it was the last leg of my trip and I couldn't take any more photos, Tom told me he'd by me a new one. Tom's not like most other backpackers - he goes online, plays poker for a bit, and then gets more money in that sitting than most of us have in our bank accounts. And so that's what he did. 20 minutes later, he's won about £200, and promises to go out and buy me a new camera the next day.
So the next day, with all of us feeling particularly fragile, we spend another day by the pool. Back on the beers of course, but taking it easy. Tom and I pop out and go and get me a new, pink, camera! It's made my day.
The next day we're up at 5.30 to go get our boat to Gili Trawangan. All backpackers I'd spoken to will without a doubt go to Kuta, and they all say the same. Good nightlife, ok beaches, and really commercial (they even have a Marks and Spencers, it's ridiculous). It's ok to go to because you're bound to have a good time, but it's not what you expect Bali to be. It's really fast-paced and busy, and just chaos in general. I'd been told by everyone that I must get over to Gili T, but aside from that I knew nothing about it, just that this island is a 'must-see'.

Well anyway, we paid something like a million rupiah each (approx £60 at the time) to get the fast boat over to Gili Trawangan. This took about 2 hours. Arriving at this tiny island, we sailed through sea so clear we could see the fish swimming beneath us. Along the seafront are just an assortment of buildings, one or two are plush hotel resorts, and the rest are just small hotels, with no more than 8 rooms in each. Beyond that is nothing. All the buildings on this tiny island are on the seafront. We'd called ahead and booked into Tir Na Nog, an Irish hotel with a Balinese twist. Once we got off the boat we walked about 2 minutes up the dirt track to get there. Finally we had peace and quiet. There are no cars or mopeds on this island. The only thing likely to knock you flying as you walk along this street is a horse and cart.

We check into our hotel, where the guy there insists on calling me Piper. Our rooms are beautifully decorated, and a complete bargain for about £12 a night between 2.
First things first, we stroll down to the hotel restaurant and bar, where we will spend most of the next 8 days, and sit eating lunch, on a platform raised above the beach, looking out to sea. When I came to Bali, this is what I expected. In terms of somewhere that's truly idyllic, this place will take a lot to beat.
We then walk 5 minutes up this small dirt road, to an area of beach with sunloungers where we sit ourselves for the rest of the day. The only time we need to move is to order another ice cold Bintang, or to go into the sea with the snorkelling gear we've just rented for about 10,000 rupiah, and go and explore this crystal clear ocean, with a reef and tropical fish so bright and colourful that to me it beats the Great Barrier Reef. This is the life, and is everything I imagined Bali to be.

Our first night on Gili T, we discover that the best nightlife on the island is where we're staying (there's not much competition really given how small the island is). And as far as nightlife goes, this is pretty mild, but that's fine with me. We start the evening with a fresh seafood BBQ. You pick from a choice of all different seafood and fish, then help yourself to the salad bar. The fish is cooked how you want it, with a sauce of your choice, and all for the grand total of approx £3. To go with it, a double G&T for a pound. And we eat this, in the same spot as lunchtime, looking out to sea.
Afterwards, we go to what are to become our seats at the bar for the next 8 days, and drink G&Ts listening to some really terrible music. This was the only downside.... except from a couple of nights when they had a DJ, they generally played the same music over and over, and this usually consisted of Boyzone, Natalie Imbruglia, Oasis.... you get the idea.
Our next few days remain the same. Eat/ beach/ snorkel/ G&T/ dinner/ 10 more G&Ts/ bed. I love this island.

One day, we decide to rent out a fishing boat for the morning. So the guy pulls up next to the restaurant at 7.30am and we climb aboard, along with about 12 Bintangs, just to keep us going. He takes us all the way out to sea, past Lombok, and gives us these ridiculous fishing rods. Infact they weren't even rods, but I don't know the correct term having never fished before. Well anyway, we're out til 12, and I manage to catch two, which I'm really excited about, til I see that all the Balinese guys do is leave the fish on the boat floor to die, right there infront of me, gasping for dear life. I was quite traumatised by this! And worst of all, once we'd finished up at 12, we didn't even get to keep the fish!! Not that they were impressive enough to ask the chef at our hotel to cook up for us, but still, it would've been nice to have been asked....

That afternoon, after a quick nap to get energised after our early start, Nicola, Marcus and I, walk halfway round the island, (which takes no time at all) to the Sunset Bar. This, as you've guessed, is the part of the island you go to watch the sunset. It's very quiet round here as there are no hotels, just the few other tourists who are doing the same as us.

Walking back, the other two are of course on the same bar stools as they are every waking moment of the day, chatting away to the staff. The staff at Tir Na Nog really made the place and we became good friends with them, probably because of the considerable amount of time we spent sitting in the exact same spot. They knew us all by name, and by drink.

This general amount of chilling out with a beer on this amazing paradise island is pretty much all we did for those 8 days. If I could, I'd stay for months, and I don't think I'd ever get bored. There are enough backpackers that you could meet someone new everyday, but it was by no means busy. The vibe is just completely relaxed.

One day, while we're at the beach, clouds form above us and it starts to go dark. Being that it's the rainy season, despite having not seen any rain yet, we realise what's about to come. And before we know it, the heavens have opened. This is a tropical storm in all it's glory. I'm running as fast as I can without giving the locals an eyeful of whats in my bikini top, and this tiny dirt road is flooding. By the time we get back to the shelter of our hotel, our clothes are soaked through, and there is no sign that this is going to ease up any time soon. So, first things first, get the Bintangs in. Next, take shelter in the tiny little huts they have infront of the hotel. There are about 8 of them, each one with a TV and DVD player. They're just big enough to fit the 5 of us in.
This is where we spend the rest of the day and the whole evening. We have a list of DVDs to choose from, a food menu, and a member of staff popping over every 5 minutes to see if we need another round.
By our eighth day, we're all suffering with a Balinese Belly. And what's worse, is that we now need to make the 2 hour boat journey back to mainland. To top it off, the boat's late, and then when it does arrive, it takes double the amount of time to get us to our destination. Once we arrive back in Kuta, dragging our backpacks behind us, we now need to find somewhere to stay. It's my last night in Bali before I fly to KL to start my journey home. And none of us feels well enough to go anywhere or do anything that requires being too far from a toilet! And so, we find accommodation, which is pretty basic and not all that nice, go for dinner, then all go our separate ways back to our rooms.
The next day the guys all go and find a far nicer hotel to stay in, for about £8 a night, and I must admit, aside from not being ready to go home at all, I'm a bit jealous that they all get to stay. So I get myself down to an internet cafe, check Air Asia, and book another flight for the following day, so that I can still make my flight home, but also enjoy one last night here with everyone.
We spend the day sitting at the poolside bar in our new hotel. Then that evening we go for a nice dinner, and back to the Sky Garden Lounge for my last night out in Kuta.
The next day, still not wanting to leave Bali, or everyone I'm with, I accept that I have to get on this flight. I've already deliberately missed one and sacrified the cost of it. I can't now miss my flight to Stansted, where my mum and dad will be expecting me home after 16 months away.
And so, rather begrudgingly, after my final round of Bintangs at the hotel pool, I make my way to the airport.
I land in Kuala Lumpur that night and head into the city to the Pudu Hostel, which is the dive I stayed in last time I was in KL, a year earlier. Now that I'm here, I realise how glad I am that I stayed in Bali one more day. It was worth the cost of the flight that I had to pay, on top of losing the money for the one I missed. Because, I HATE this city. It's horrible. The moment I arrive I want to leave again. So I spend my last night in a disgusting hostel room the size of a prison cell with no windows and no sheets on my bed, and just pray I fall asleep quickly. I'm on my way back to the airport first thing the next morning to catch my flight home. It's February, and for those of you in the UK over winter, you'll know that it's freezing cold and it's been snowing for weeks. I've had the best end to my trip in Bali. And now I arrive home, after the most amazing 16months of my life, it's -2 degrees and I'm in flip flops. Talk about getting back to reality.

At last some sunshine at Byron Bay

After the constant bad weather we'd had for most of Anna's holiday, we didn't have high expectations for Byron Bay. I'd been here twice before, back in my camping days, and both times, the torrential rain took over.

We arrived in Byron at 8pm, and were greeted off the bus by my friend Louise, who I'd met in Melbourne months before. She was in Byron working in a hostel and driving the hostel's minivan. She took us to where we were staying and we chatted for a bit, over some old faithful goon (we'd brought 2 casks of the stuff with us, which was left over from Fraser Island). Having done nothing but sit on a bus for the whole day, Anna and I wandered around this lovely 'hippy chic' town, but headed to bed at a reasonable time - for a change.

In the morning we woke up to a glorious day, clear blue skies and a blazing hot sun. At last, we were in a beachside town, and had all the ingredients for a perfect day of sunbathing and sightseeing. First of all we took a stroll down to the lighthouse, which is the most easterly point of Australia.

After that, we met up with this guy Brad, from Queensland, who was our driver for the day, and had come to meet us in a 1930s Ford Tudor Hotrod. we headed to a craft market which was full of hippies and only hippies. The three of us stood out from a mile away, as none of us was in tie-dye, had dreadlocks or facial piercings. After wandering around taking in the most bizarre sights - for example a tall skinny man with bleached hair, laddered tights and a blue sequinned skirt - we went on to Nimbin.

Nimbin is a town about 30/40 minutes inland from Byron Bay. Byron Bay attracts all sorts of people; there are celebrities with million dollar sea-facing properties, goon-drinking backpackers, surf dudes riding the waves, and of course the hippies.

Nimbin is just a town full of hippies. Backpackers generally go there to eat hash cakes and look at psychodellic paintings etc. The problem is, over time, the local hippies aren't just smoking marijuana, they've moved on to crack and heroin, which they try to sell to anyone passing by. Generally as a female you don't get bothered, it's mainly the guys that they try and sell to. Well, Anna and I, being neither marijuana smokers or hash cake-eaters, were quite satisfied that we'd seen it all in about half an hour, and didn't feel the need to stay any longer. For some backpackers who go on an organised tour, this is the highlight of their stay in Byron Bay. However a weird town with every local passed out on crack, and every tourist spaced out and stoned, this wasn't really my kind of place. Give me some ice cold beers on the beach any day.

So we got back in the car and went to a National Park to see Minyon falls, an incredible waterfall slightly further inland.

After this, we drove back through the forests and found a nice country pub where we stopped for a drink, before we spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, basking in the sunshine.

The next day, awaking to yet another beautiful day, we decided to spend the whole day at the beach. To be honest there isn't much else to do in Byron Bay, once you've been to the infamous Nimbin. The town is full of quirky restaurants and lovely boutiques, but as we don't have the money to spend in either, we make do with our picnic at the seafront.

That evening we meet Louise and head out to one of the many nightspots in Byron, Cocomangas. Here, we drink cocktails out of jamjars, and just generally dance and drink the night away. It feels like a while since I've been surrounded by drunken backpackers, and it feels good!

The next day is pretty much a repeat of the day before, expect now, my trusty camera which has lasted me all this time, has died on me. I took it in the sea (it's waterproof by the way) but it stops working, which I'm really upset about because I am one of these annoying people who takes photos of anything and everything. So no more photos for the rest of this blog entry....

Anyhow, like I say, another chilled day at the beach, and then in the evening we meet Louise again, and go to the very well known Cheeky Monkeys. Now I know I said that I liked being around drunken backpackers, but this is most definitely a step too far. I've never seen anything like it, it's like a mosh pit of drunken, sweaty, half naked bodies (does the fact that this bothers me make me sound old)!? Well anyway before long, we're fitting right in; drunken and sweaty from a combination of dancing hard, and this hot bar crammed full of bodies. Thankfully we at least remained fully clothed, no dancing in our underwear for us (yes - this really does go on - if only their mothers could see them)!!

The following day, unable to have the lie-in we want because it's check out time, we drag our hungover selves out of bed, and make the most of this last day of sunshine. I'm so glad that while Anna's been here, she's been able to see Byron Bay at it's best. We make the most of every minute of sun, then head back to the hostel to shower and change, and go to get our bus.

By 9pm we're on our way to Sydney on the night bus. Exhausted from a day in the sunshine, we sleep most of the way and arrive at Central Station at 10.30am. We leave our backpacks in lockers at the station so we can spend a few hours in the city. Unfortunately, and typically, it's pouring with rain. We go to Darling Harbour, which doesn't look quite so nice when it's grey and overcast. Then we wander round Paddy's market, have some lunch, then we collect our luggage and get the bus to Paul's in Coogee, so that Anna's got time to get freshened up in order to get her flight home that afternoon.

It has been an absolutely exhausting and hectic couple of weeks, but we have crammed in so much, and I think Anna has seen a fair bit of Australia in this time. What a shame that the weather has been crap (so for anyone who thinks it's sunny all year round, it most definitely isn't). I think the only real disappointment that she's had, is leaving the Land Down Under without having seen a single kangaroo or koala! Looks like she'll just have to pay another visit....

So Paul and I drop Anna off at the airport. There are no tears this time, as my visa's up in a matter of days, and I know I'll be seeing Anna back on UK soil in just a couple of weeks.

Back at Paul's I spend the next couple of days just organising myself. I need to speak to people regarding my tax, superannuation etc, and basically need to get everything sorted whilst I'm still in the country. Paul and I go for dinner on my last night, and then I pop round to see my friend Louise (the one I spent xmas with, not the one from Byron Bay). The intention is to have one bottle of wine, but of course this turns into 3 or 4, and the next thing I'm trying to hail a taxi, drunk, at 2.30 in the morning, in the pouring rain. I promise Louise that I'll be back in Australia in no time.

And this is it. The next day, packed and ready to go, Paul takes me to the airport.

The last year in Australia I've seen so much, and yet there's still so much left to see. I've camped up the east coast, braving wild dingoes as I walk to the 'long drop' toilet in the middle of the night. I've stayed in the suburbs of Melbourne, where I settled and became a true local, joining the boys in watching Karingal FC every Saturday without fail. I lived in a small hillbilly town, on two occasions, hours away from 'normal people' and picked/ packed fruit. I mean who'd have thought that I would have at one point climbed ladders in the blazing hot Queensland sun, in order to fill a half-tonne crate with lemons!?!? I sailed the Whitsundays, drove a toy Barbie car round Magnetic Island, snorkelled in the Great Barrier Reef. The list is endless.

However, there are so many boxes that remain unticked.... I haven't done a skydive, swam with sharks, learned to surf, seen the Ausrtalian outback and Ayers Rock.

And so I say goodbye to Paul, and goodbye to Australia, but not forever, just for now......

Self-Drive Tour of Fraser Island

In the early hours of the morning we tiptoed around the girls' apartment getting ready, then walked the 10 minute walk to Southern Cross station. From there we got the skybus to the airport, where we flew to Brisbane. At Brisbane we had a couple of hours to wait til our coach. Not able to go anywhere because of all our luggage, we both passed out asleep on the airport seats for about 2 hours, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around us.

Finally on the coach, we slept for most of the journey, and had to be woken up by the driver wandering up the aisles calling our names when it was our stop. Quite embarrassing infront of a coachload of people, but lucky that we didn't wake up hours later, hundreds of miles from our destination!

By 5pm we arrived at Rainbow beach, and it was safe to say we were fully rested. Sometimes when you're backpacking, the only real rest you get is when you're travelling from one place to the next.

We checked into our hostel, then had to get together with a group of 18 people for a briefing. This was mainly to go over the dos and don'ts, and rules in general of the next few days.

Let me explain....The only reason to ever come to Rainbow beach, or Hervey Bay, a few hours up the coast, is to use it as a departure point to get to Fraser Island, the world's largest sand island. Both towns are full of backbackers either going to, or having just come back from, this popular part of Australia.

The hostels organise everything for you - food, transport, 'accommodation', all you need to do is remember your credit card!

This trip is a 2 day and 2 night tour of the island, which stretches to 123km. The hostel takes your drivers licence details, tells you about the huge 4WD you'll be driving, give you an itinery and a map, and send you, and a group of strangers, on your way.

The next morning we had to be up at 5am to load both trucks with 9 tents, sleeping bags, 2 cookers, utensils, crates of food, all our alcohol, the small bags of our limited belongings we were allowed to take with us, and finally ourselves.

Our group was a mixture of Germans, Swedes and Danes, with a couple of Irish thrown in. And funnily enough, a guy from Romford, who we took under our wing. Also amongst our group was one of the most annoying women I've ever had the misfortune of meeting - Norma.

Norma was 66, a retired accountant, who spent 6 months at home with her husband, and 6 months travelling. She'd been almost everywhere in the world, and boy did she like telling us about it!! Don't get me wrong, travelling is one thing we all had in common, and it gives us something to talk about if ever the conversation runs dry (which lets face it, doesn't happen very often with me around)! However this old witch had an amazing ability to talk forever about herself and only herself. God forbid anyone dare tell a tale about their own travels! Not that it mattered because no doubt Norma would have been there, done that and got the souvenirs to prove it. Because of Norma, our 2 day trip on this beautiful island felt like we were being supervised by a school Headmistress.

Anyway, on day one, we were told to go to Lake MacKenzie. This lake is quite spectacular, even moreso I imagine, if we had clear blue skies, which of course, we didn't. The sky was grey and overcast, and the air was damp and muggy. The lake has the bluest water I think I've ever seen, far bluer than the sea up at the Whitsundays. The water is still and calm; it's like a small corner of paradise (or it would have been, had it not been the school holidays and therefore loads of families - with kids - everywhere).

We spent the morning here, relaxing in this beautiful part of the world. Anna and I managed to separate ourselves from the group, which was probably the best idea we had for the whole 2 days.

Following our itinery down to the minute (thanks to Norma) we left Lake MacKenzie, enjoyed a picnic lunch, then drove on to find a spot to set up camp. We drove along the beach and found a place called Happy Valley. There was a small verge that was slightly back from the beach, so as not to get washed away when the tide came in, that could fit all our tents. There was 1 tent between 3, so Anna and I immediately asked our new friend from Romford to join us, for fear of being stuck with the old witch. After my many months of camping whilst fruitpicking, I'm now an expert at putting up tents, so I had ours pitched to perfection in under a minute, so the 3 of us could sit back with an ice cold beer and watch the others struggling. This became a habit over the next 2 days, the 3 of us sitting back and watching everyone else get stuck in whilst drinking a nice refreshing beer (not so refreshing after all the ice melted and they were luke warm, but better than nothing).

After everyone was finished, we took one last drive up the beach to the Maheno wreck, a ship that was being towed from Melbourne to Japan to be used as scrap metal, before being caught in a cyclone and ending up washed up on the coast of Fraser island, before we had to head back to camp.

We were given strict instructions when we left as to what times the tide came in, and when we could drive our 4WDs. If we didn't pay attention, we'd get stuck and have to pay a fortune to get help, and also to fix the damage that the sea salt does to the engine.

And so we were stuck here, with nothing to keep us entertained aside from the droney voice of Norma, telling yet another story about herself. We opened our coolboxes and started to prepare dinner, on the tiny little table, and with the tiny little cookers that we'd been provided with. It took a long time to cook dinner for 18 very hungry backpackers. For the whole trip, meals consisted of bread, with burgers or more burgers. That's about it. For someone who doesn't eat beef, it left a lot to be desired. But it was either that or starve, so I smothered everything in ketchup and imagined I was eating something else.

There's no artificial light on Fraser island, so from about 8 o'clock onwards, we sat in darkness, with the moon and stars our only form of light, and drank beer and chatted amongst ourselves until we eventually dragged ourselves to our tents, where we slept with only a sleeping bag, nothing beneath us and no pillows.

We woke up to the sound of rain running down the side of our tents. We knew immediately that the day would be a washout. Peering out of the tent, the sea was rough, waves crashing, and was a horrible brown colour. Not that you'd ever go in the sea here as it's full of sharks. We were warned not to go anywhere near the sea, not even to dip your feet in.

Despite only being the crack of dawn, we were the last ones up. When we went to make breakfast - bread with jam - we were told that one of the cool boxes had been left open and the dingoes had got our burgers....

On our itinery for the day was Indian Head and the Champagne Pools. This was a long drive right down the other end of the island. You time it right, so that you spend most of the day there, while the tide comes in. When it goes out again, it's safe to drive back to camp.

Well, this was a huge disappointment. The rain didn't ease up in the slightest the whole day. We got to the end of the island and had to park up, then walk about an hour to Champagne Pools. Walking in soft, wet sand for that length of time is exhausting. And we were getting soaked. But we kept ourselves going by thinking about the beautiful rock pools we were soon to be coming across. Except they weren't. We got there, drenched, and climbed down the boardwalk to horrible, slimy rocks. There were no pools, just waves crashing, covering us, making it impossible to even attempt to appreciate how amazing this might look had the sun been shining. What a waste. So, after taking the obligatory photos 'here's me having a great time at Champagne Pools,' we made the dreaded trek back to our cars, where we were now stranded for about 4 hours til the tide went back out.

In that time, Anna and I mostly slept in the car, and the boys..... well the boys dug a hole.

So that was it - day 2. A total and utter washout.

We left as soon as we could to go back to camp and just started to drink straight away. It was the only thing we could do to keep ourselves occupied, except for sleeping.

The next day, feeling very hungover, we woke up last again. In fact when we got up, at 5.30am, everyone else had packed up their tents and started to load the van. Oooops! Taking our time, the 3 of us eventually took our tent down and packed up. As it was still grey and miserable, we'd all agreed that rather than attempt to cook in this weather, we would save the bacon and eggs and cook it once we got back to the hostel.

Our last stop on the itinery was Lake Wabby. We had to walk about 20 minutes to this lake, and unfortunately it wasn't really worth it. It was nothing like the first one we went to, Lake MacKenzie. But, we got in and had a dip, and 'cleaned' ourselves, as we'd had no showers since 2 days earlier. The only thing at this lake that was worth mentioning was that we saw turtles swimming in the lake. That's about it.

So on we went, homeward bound, to make the journey back to where we'd get the boat back to mainland. And of course, as we drove, the skies cleared and there was bright blue sky and beaming sunshine. Bloody typical. I mean, it had rained, really rained, non stop for 2 days. We'd had to cook under leaking tarpauline, camp in dripping tents, and trek miles along a beach, getting soaked to the bone. And while we parked up and wait for our boat to arrive, it was beautiful.

At least the last glimpse of Fraser Island I had at that moment was seeing it as it's supposed to be seen, this huge vast beach as far as the eye can see, lined with trees swaying in the sea breeze. As we waited, we saw dolphins swimming in the ocean. This was what I'd expected! Typical....

Once we got back to the hostel, the others checked into their rooms and got cleaned up. Anna, myself, and our new friend from Romford, helped ourselves to the breakfast we should have had earlier, in peace and quiet, away from yet more of Norma's tales.

That evening, when most groups would all sit together and talk about the adventures and sights of Fraser Island, the 3 of us drank what was left of the alcohol from the trip and chatted about what a let down of a trip that'd been.

Unfortunately, when you book a trip like this, there are 2 things you can't control: the weather and the people. And I can easily say we had the worst of both. We had fun and entertained ourselves, but I have to say that's one trip I need to make sure I do again one day. I'm sure it can be better than torrential rain and moany old 66 year olds.

Melbourne, the Fourth and Final Time!

Our flight to Melbourne was at lunchtime, but by the time we landed and made our way into the city it was early evening. We checked into Urban Central, my home for most of my time in Melbourne, and got ourselves settled. It had been a long, hungover, struggle of a day, and we were glad to be able to relax.
Walking through the kitchen/ dining area, there were very few faces I recognised, which was surprising considering that a month ago there was such a big group of us 'longtermers'. As expected, most people had moved on for Christmas and New Years, mostly to Sydney.
Spending what remained of the day recovering from NYE, we woke up the following morning feeling refreshed and ready to spend the next few days sightseeing. I already new Melbourne like the back of my hand, and had done all the touristy things, but I was spending the next 4 days showing Anna why I loved this city so much.
First of all was shopping! Melbourne is well known in Australia for it's shopping, especially the Brusnwick St area which is packed full of vintage clothes shops. We wandered up and down this street for hours, going into every shop that looked as though it might be in our price range. The great thing about Brunswick Street is that aside from all the posh, expensive shops, there are also a million and one second hand or just cheap shops where you're guaranteed to find a bargain.
We came away from there with a few new items, ready for a big night out (I know I know, it was only the day after New Years day, but there was no time to waste)!
The weather wasn't great today, but I took Anna to St. Kilda anyway, mainly for more clothes shopping. It's a shame because had the sun have been shining we could've had a lazy afternoon at the beach.

Back at the hostel, and in typical Urban Central style, we bought a few bottles of wine, and all sat around drinking and talking, mainly about what we'd all been up to since I left a month earlier.
We were dressed up in the day's bargains, and headed out to my favourite bars. First of all, down the laneways, we went to Section 8. Aside from being a particular favourite, I also wanted to take Anna there as it's a bar like no other bar I've been to. It's open air, they sell drinks from inside a shipping container, and the walls are covered with graffiti. After a mojito or two, we went to Toffs bar, where we could dance the night away. And then we ended up in good old PJ O'Briens, an Irish bar where all backpackers go. Cheap drinks, cheesy music, lots of dancing, and only a short walk back to the hostel.
In the morning, hungover, (I barely knew what it was like to not be hungover anymore) we got on the train and went down to Frankston. Anna also knew Beau from our holiday in Thailand nearly 3 years previously, and was keen to see him whilst we were in Melbourne.
First of all, I went to see Robyn, my Australian mum! She picked us up from the station and we went back to hers, and as it was a nice day we sat in the garden, drank lots of wine and did lots of chatting, like we always did. After a couple of hours, she drove us round to Beau's. I'd already been in touch with him to tell him we would be coming, and to invite the boys round and get plenty of stuff for a BBQ and a few drinks in his bar, something I did every weekend for the 4 months I stayed with him. This would be the last time I'd see Beau, his girlfriend Kristy, and all the boys. As I'd already said goodbye to them 3 times before, it wasn't so bad, although this time we all knew it would be for good, or at least for a very long time.

On our last day in Melbourne, still giving ourselves no time to relax, we wandered round the city. It was a lovely day, sun shining and clear blue skies. We sat on the grass outside the cathedral and ate sushi, from a place I found that I'm sure does the best sushi in Australia! We sat there amongst all the office workers making the most of the sunshine on their lunchbreaks.

Then we walked through the botanical gardens, and on to the Eureka tower. I'd already been up the tower twice before, once with my friend Simon and once with mum and dad's friend Jeff. Being my third time, and practically a local to Melbourne by now, we went up to the sky deck and I acted the tour guide, telling Anna what every landmark or building in the city was.

On our way back to the hostel we went to Port Melbourne. Port Melbourne is where 'the other half' live. The beach isn't great compared to others I'd seen in Australia, but the properties looking on to it are stunning. If I ever ended up living in Melbourne, this is where I'd live. If I could afford it. We took a stroll along the pier and the beachfront, wondering what sort of a life these people have, living in beautiful apartment buildings, with their choice of nice, expensive restuarants, walking their dogs along the beach and generally living in luxury.

Back at Urban we packed our bags and I checked for the last time. As we were leaving at 3 in the morning, I didn't see the point in paying for another night's accommodation, so some of the girls I knew who lived in an apartment nearby, had kindly offered to put us up for the night. We went round there in the early evening, chucked our bags down, and went out to meet the last lot of people on our list. Ilias and Tristan were 2 guys we worked with in Lagos, who I'd met up with many times in Melbourne, but for Anna this would be her only chance to see them. I'd arranged for us to meet at the Rooftop Bar, where they'd never been before. The bar, which oddly enough is on a rooftop, is set out like a huge garden, with deckchairs and parasols all over the place. The views across the city are amazing. And, as it was such a nice day, we could sit there for hours, sipping our sangrias, and like I'd done so many times with so many people over the past few weeks, say our final goodbyes.
Back at the girl's apartment, we got as much sleep as we could, before our alarms went off at 3am and we were on the road again, this time to Rainbow Beach and Fraser Island.

Christmas and New Years in Sydney

My bus to Sydney took 17 hours. I arrved at lunchtime feeling far from refreshed after a big night out in Brisbane and nearly no sleep since.
In Sydney I was staying with a friend, Paul, for the Christmas period. I met Paul on holiday in Portugal in 2006. He's a Kiwi who, at the time, was traveling around Europe. A few months later I picked him up from Luton airport and he stayed at ours for the night. Since then he always promised to return the favour. So here I was, getting a cab to one of Sydney's seaside suburbs, Coogee. I'd been to Coogee before, but only briefly, back in February when we did the 2 hour coastal walk from Bondi.
I arrived and got the key from the plant pot where Paul had left it for me, and made myself at home, so pleased to be in the comfort of a house again, with a laptop, TV, and all the other things we take for granted. Staying here was doing me a huge favour, as all the hostels in Sydney bump their rates up to an extortinate amount over the festive period. It would have cost me $1000 for a 32 bed dorm for 10 nights. There was no way I'd ever stay in a 32 bed dorm, and especially not for $100 a night! Paul didn't want a penny from me, so instead, before he got home from work I filled the fridge with beers, wine and food.
That night, when Paul arrived home from work, we spent the evening chilling out, drinking wine and catching up on the last few years. He was disappointed that after nearly a year in Oz I had only just got round to seeing him, but I had 10 days to make up for lost time.
The following day, after a great night's sleep but still feeling a bit rough with a cold, I took myself to the beach. It was a beautiful day, and it was so nice being just metres from the beach and all these shops, cafes and restaurants. It was a lifestyle that I could really get used to. And, after being on the road for a while, it was a relief to know that I could relax without having to pack my bags and catch another bus in a few days.
The next couple of days before Christmas I caught up with friends. I met Louise, my friend from home who relocated here, in a bar for drinks not far from Paul's house. I also met up with a guy called Carl, who I met in Thailand in December 08, who had just arrived in Oz. When I met Carl I encouraged him to go travelling, telling him he'd have the time of his life and so on. It was so good that he'd made the decision to do it, and here we were a year later, sitting on Bondi beach.
On Christmas eve, while Paul and his housemate Travis were at work, I went out and bought loads of Christmas decorations. Being typical males, they had nothing. There was nothing at all to suggest that it was nearly Christmas. And so I filled the living room with tinsel and baubles (in blue, so it was a bit manly)! I bought crackers and put them round the room. And filled a bowl with chocolates which I left for them on the coffee table. It wasn't much, in fact it looked a bit pathetic without a tree or lights, but it was something. And it made me feel a bit more festive!
Before I knew it I was waking up on Christmas day. I'd had cards delivered from home that Paul hadn't told me about, which was a lovely surprise. I insisted that I make the boys a breakfast of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast with fresh orange juice, just like I have at home, which I cooked wearing a santa hat. Then, while we ate, I made them watch Love Actually with me, again, something I do at home, and also what I made all the boys do last Christmas in Thailand!
They stayed for a while, then went up the road to their friends house where they were spending the day. I waited at the house for my mum to call, then went on the dreaded walk to Bronte where I was meeting Louise and co. Bronte is along the coastal walk, near to Bondi. I was told that if I walked fast I could do it in an hour. I wasn't up for this at all. It was muggy and humid outside, and looked like it was about to pour down. I also had bags of stuff, food, drinks, christmas crackers and so on. But I set off anyway (not realising that buses still run on xmas day - damnit)! and power-walked all the way there. Any hopes I had of looking nice when I got there were ruined, when I arrived sweating, with my make-up smudged around my eyes, and my freshly straightened hair was frizzy (at least I had a santa hat to cover it up). But I managed to do it in about 45 minutes, and arrived there before everyone else!
I was amazed at how many people were out and about, forgetting that Christmas here isn't like it is at home. I walked around about 5 different beaches, which were packed full of people cooking on their BBQs, and kids swimming in the sea, despite the overcast sky and damp air.

I waited about 10 minutes, enough time to freshen up, when Louise and 9 others arrived. We picked a spot and laid our rugs out, with all our food and drinks etc. The boys were sent on their way to go and get the BBQ started, using one of the free BBQs here, while us girls chatted and drank lots of wine! It was such a shame the weather wasn't better. Even moreso when, after a few hours and when the boys had only just got to the front of the BBQ queue, it started to rain. Shortly after, the place had pretty much cleared out, which wasn't bad as it meant we could get a table under shelter, and the boys could cook in peace.

Looking around, the only people mad enough to stay on the beach were other groups of backpackers, with pretty much no where else to go, and determined to have a typical 'Australian Christmas' with a BBQ on the beach. We had this, except without the sunshine. After we'd eaten, and pretty much drunk everything we had between us, we made a decision to go back to Louise and James' to carry on the evening in the comfort of a warm, dry, apartment, where there was plenty more to eat and drink!
I ended up staying at Louise's, and made my way home the following afternoon. It was quite embarrassing because the weather had changed, and today was quite cold. Yet here I was, catching buses, in just a pair of denim shorts, a bikini and a thin cardigan. People probably thought I was mad. I was also incredibly hungover, so I just wanted to get back, put comfortable clothes on, and chill out on the sofa, which is exactly what I did.

That evening I couldn't sleep, despite having spent the previous night tossing and turning on the sofa, and being hungover. It was because I was so excited. More excited than I get at Christmas, which to anyone who knows me, knows is hard to beat. And it was because Anna was arriving in the morning. My best friend, who I hadn't seen since she came out to see me in Thailand this time last year, was going to be in Central train station at 8am. After only about 4 hours sleep I was up and dressed, and on the bus on the way into the city to go and meet her. It was tipping it down today, which is such a bad first impression to get of the apparently 'sunny-all-year-round' Australia! But it didn't matter. I waited for what felt like forever for Anna to arrive, as I'd got a bit enthusiastic and was there far too early. When she walked through the barriers, as expected, we had a tearful reunion. After a minute or two to compose ourselves, we stepped out into the pouring rain to get the poor girl to Paul's, where she could dump her luggage and sort herself out after travelling for about 30 hours, via Hong Kong, to get here.
I gave her no time at all to let the jetlag set in, as we had no time to waste. Anna was here for 18 days, and we had so much to fit in in that time. We headed into the city where we wandered around taking in the sights, the Opera House, Harbour Bridge etc. Although I'd been to Sydney before, it was only for a few days, and I was always with people who knew their way around, so I told Anna that I was as much a stranger to this city as she was. Walking around Circular Quay we bumped into Louise and James, and another couple, friends of theirs from home who'd also just arrived for a holiday. With the weather still pretty miserable, we all went for a drink in the Opera bar, which has amazing views of, yes you've guessed it, the Opera house. It's definitely my favourite bar in Sydney. Yes the drinks are overpriced, but the view's great and so is the atmosphere.
After the others left Anna and I stayed for a few more. Probably not the best idea, but at the time it seemed ok. We drank a couple of bottles of wine, and by now it was only about 5.30. Feeling rather tipsy, we got the bus back so that Anna could see Paul, now that he was home from work. The 3 of us took a stroll to a nearby Thai restaurant, where we ate nice food, drank more wine, and chatted the night away.
In the morning I was so pleased to see blue skies and a bright beaming sun. We got up fairly early - by backpackers standards anyway - and, still not giving Anna any time to get used to the time difference, we got the bus to Bondi beach. We spent the day here, among about a million other people who had done the same as us. The beach was packed and overcrowded, but I still managed to see two of my mates from my time living in Melbourne, who came and sunbathed with us for a while.

Wanting to do as much as possible with Anna, and also other people I'd met on my travels, i'd attempted to arrange a big night out for everyone I knew that was in Sydney. So after a day of tanning, we rushed back to Paul's to get ready for a night out. While Paul cooked us dinner, we were frantically hair-straightening, applying make-up, and changing our outfits for the umpteenth time. By the time we got out we were late. Late to something that I'd organised which was a tad embarrassing. And also, not all of the people I'd invited knew eachother. By the time we got there and got drinks, I had to find everyone and bring them together.
It ended up being a really good night out. And, despite Australia being so big, I wasn't surprised that I bumped into a couple of people I'd met over the last year, even someone I'd worked with whilst packing fruit in Renmark. It's at this time of year when the place just fills with backpackers. Some of the people I saw tonight I knew that I would be saying goodbye to for good. The chances are that I won't see a lot of them again, even when they come back to England. But of course, by now, after nearly 15 months of travelling, I was perfectly used to this part, even though it doesn't get any easier.
Feeling sorry for ourselves in the morning, and sleeping in longer than I'd have liked, we saw the sun beaming through the blinds and decided we couldn't waste a glorious day hungover and inside. So we dragged ourselves the 100 metres down the road to the beach. An extra bonus was that Paul was with us too. He'd taken a couple of days off work to spend time with us. He even came out with us into the city the night before, the only guy with a bunch of drunken girls....Oh, ok, now it makes sense why he came.....
So anyway, here we were on Coogee beach. Anna braved the sea, overcoming her huge fear of sharks, and pretty much anything else you find in the ocean. The sun was strong today, and I was pleased that at last Anna was seeing some proper Ozzy weather.
After a few hours, again, not wanting to miss an opportunity to meet up with people, we went back, got showered and changed, and headed back into the city where we were catching a ferry to Manly. When I was here in Feb I'd stayed with my mate Becky, an Ozzy I'd met in Portugal. Well I lived in Portugal with Anna, so obviously she knew Becky too and wanted to see her. And even better, another friend of ours from London who we'd also met in Portugal was staying with Becky. And another friend Tim, had also arranged to meet up. So it was a mini Lagos-reunion.
Once over in Manly we met the others in the Wharf bar, a trendy bar that's particularly popular for a Sunday session. All types come here. The protentious girls in their dresses and heels and men in their smart shirts and shoes. The surf-dude types who've strolled in after a day of riding the waves. And the backpackers.
Paul came with us, but the poor guy couldn't get a word in. The 5 of us hadn't seen eachother as a group since summer 2007, and the excitement was obvious, lots of squealing and hugging. Paul went to get the drinks in.
After catching up for probably only a couple of hours, the sun started to set. The atmosphere was great here, but we were well aware that we had a long journey to get back, and the tiredness from our hangovers was kicking in. Reluctantly, we said our goodbyes, my 2nd time in 2 nights, and made our way back to Paul's for a takeaway and a DVD. We all fell asleep on the sofa at about 9pm.
The next day was New Years eve. Again, the sky was grey and overcast, but it was still warm. Anna and I had a lie in, then spent the day, yes, the entire day, getting ready for tonight. We were meeting Louise, her boyfriend James, and a few others, to go to Shark Island. Shark Island's quite a way away, but is the perfect location for watching the famous fireworks they set off in the harbour.
At about 5pm we set off, getting buses and taxis, through the chaos of the city. There were people everywhere, roads were closed and police walked the streets, all in preparation for the 4 million people who spend New Years Eve in Sydney. Thankfully we were going about 15 minutes out of the city, where we waited for our boat to take us to the island.
Shark Island has no facilities except for toilets, so we had to bring all food, drinks, seats, music etc ourselves. The island's small, but there were only a couple of hundred people there, so we all had plenty of space to spread out and get a great view of the Harbour Bridge.
To get the boat over on a normal day is $18. On New Years Eve, it's $160, so we all hoped it'd be worth it. There were about 10 of us there in our group. Between us we'd brought so much food that we could have fed another 10. We also had so much alcohol, but of course we knew we'd have no trouble finishing that off. We were there for 7.30, so we had plenty of time before the fireworks started. The first show was at 9pm, the kiddies show. These were brilliant, and our view was incredible, but it was nothing compared to what was to come at midnight.
Whilst we drank the night away, it gradually got darker and there was a chill in the air. We sat huddled, playing drinking games and listening to our music, as loud as we could have it. So far the night was brilliant. NYE always seems to be a let down. At home you spend extortinate amounts of money on entry to a bar or club. They hike the price of the drinks up, that's if you can get to the bar amongst the hundreds of other people they've managed to cram into the place. So after you've spent a fortune on tickets and drinks, spent hardly any time with your mates because you've been stuck in queues for the bar or the toilet, you then pay triple for a taxi home. At the end of it, you look back and promise not to spend another NYE like that.
But here we were, close friends, sitting together in a completely chilled out, laid back atmosphere. Yes the boat tickets were expensive, but when you think what we saved by bringing our own food and drink it balances out.

We talked and laughed and drank our way through the warm evening. Before we knew it, the first lot of fireworks for the countdown to midnight had started. Everyone rushes for their cameras. Sometimes we forget that while we're trying desperately to capture everything on camera we're not actually seeing it for ourselves. At the end of the night I must have had 100 pictures of those fireworks, and they were all as blurry as the one I'd taken before. Realising how hard it is to take a good photo of fireworks I stopped trying and just enjoyed the show.
I'd smuggled some sparklers onto the island (apparently these are strictly forbidden - I'm such a rebel) and shared them out with everyone. So, amongst the 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' we were there spelling our names out with our sparklers, and watching the most amazing fireworks display I've ever seen, and probably ever will see.
Not long after the hugs and kisses and 'happy new years', it was time to get the boat back to Rosebay, and make our way back to Paul's. Everyone else was heading to a house party not far away, but with no time to waste, Anna and I had a flight booked to Melbourne in the morning (something we later regretted)!
I really enjoyed Sydney, and had such a good NYE that I'm sure will be hard to compete with for years to come. However, I'm not sure it's a city I could live in like I did in Melbourne. It's so spread out that to get from one place to another requires changing buses 3 times. And the transport/ restaurants/ bars are so expensive, unlike Melbourne. But for what it's worth I had a great time, made better by the fact that Anna was here. We crammed in so much over the last few days, meeting people and seeing the sights, that I was ready for a break, but no such luck. Melbourne here we come.....