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!

Getting settled in Sydney

I landed in Sydney at about 6am, feeling, as you can imagine, rather fragile.

I made my way to my friend Paul's house. I stayed with Paul in Coogee the last time I was in Sydney. I arrived at 7.30am and was ready to crash out, but he'd arranged for us to go for breakfast with some of his friends who i'd met last time I was here. So after a refreshing shower and change of clothes, we were out for breakfast, where I was having to socialise and make conversation, the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. Soon I was back at Paul's and asleep on his sofa, where I stayed for about 5 hours! I woke up with a massive cold and didn't move off that sofa for the next 2 days. Typically, following on from the weather in Freo, it had turned in Sydney and it was cold, raining and miserable! At least that meant spending 2 days indoors was completely justifiable!

By Tuesday I was feeling slightly better, and so off I went to meet Louise, a good friend of mine from home who'd been living in Sydney over 2 years, and who I also spent Christmas and New Years with last year. Today was Melbourne Cup day, Australia's equivalent to Ascot, and so the whole of New South Wales and Victoria shuts down for the races. I met Louise at the Beach Road Hotel, a busy bar near Bondi, where we ended up spending the whole day catching up over a glass or 6 of wine. After what turned out to be quite a drunken night, it was time to get serious!

The next day, it was time to sort my life out. The jobhunt began! I prepared my CV and sent it out to a dozen agencies, and then sat back waiting for the phone to ring. Whilst waiting, I started looking for somewhere to live. This proved much more difficult than I thought. With summer round the corner, backpackers travelling all over Australia would flock to Sydney to be here for Christmas and New Years. I looked everyday and there was no change - the only places available to rent were rooms to share with Korean students, not exactly what I had in mind! And so, not wanting to overstay my welcome at Paul's I booked into a hostel that weekend.

Before leaving, I spent my days meeting with recruitment agencies to discuss any possible opportunities.

That weekend, once I checked into a hostel and moved my stuff into a room with 2 disgusting and untidy Scottish girls, I went round to Louise's. Her, and her 3 housemates, were having a 'Nautical' themed house party. So, sailor hat on, off I headed to meet the girls who I no doubt would be spending lots of time with over the coming months.

Later that night, after meeting a scuba diver, several Popeyes, Spongebob squarepants, and lots of sailors, I begrudgingy made my way back to my hostel. The 4-bed room I was staying in was a tip. Two girls had taken over, with their clothes and other belongings covering the floor. There were dirty, food covered plates and cutlery all over the place, and mouldy food in the fridge. I could have cried; I have nothing against hostels but this was taking it a step too far. Paul told me I could go back and stay at his, but I needed to get out there and meet other people, and be closer to the city. Thankfully, after a few days, the girls checked out, fed up of the number of complaints they had about the state of the room. (Nothing to do with me of course)! After a good clean up, I immediately felt better.

The day after the girls' party was spent down at the beach, my first beach day since arriving in Australia 2 weeks ago.

After many meetings with agencies and lots and lots of phonecalls, I finally received the call I'd been waiting for. I was offered a 6 week contract working for Medibank, a Health Solutions company, as a Strategic Sourcing Consultant working in the Recruitment team. At last I could relax and start to go out properly, knowing that it wasn't long til I'd have money coming in. I was over the moon to have something for the interim, just to take me up to the New Year, when I could start looking for something longer term.

That week, Beth and Alex arrived. Beth is the daughter of my mum and dad's friends. Despite living down the same road at home, we'd only met a handful of times. Being a few years younger than me, and this being their first travelling experience, I was keen to meet up with them and tell them what I knew about Sydney/ travelling. So one sunny day the girls came and met me at Bondi beach, somewhere they would end up spending a lot of their time. The next night, they met me at my hostel and we went out in Kings Cross, my first proper night out since being in Sydney. We went to World bar, somewhere I'd already been the first time was in Sydney, in Feb '09. This time felt completely different. Despite being only 2 years older than when I was first here, I all of a sudden felt very old! Especially when the girls started getting chatted up by some guys who were only 19/ 20. This was my time to go. I couldn't believe that at the age of 24, I was leaving a bar because I felt old! I think this time my outlook is different. I've come back to Australia to work, and I don't really consider myself a backpacker. I've done the travelling thing and been to the backpacker bars etc.

That week it was all very much back to reality. I started my job, up in the Northern suburbs, and went back to 'responsible Pippa'. I had to commute out of the city to get to work, which wasn't ideal but OK for the meantime. My daily commute included getting a bus over the harbour bridge, with the Opera house right beside me. Not a bad view to brighten your mood in the morning!

My weeknights were very quiet, dinners round Louise's with the girls, or just a night in at the hostel. Not long after I started working, Beth and Alex checked into my hostel and were in my room, so every night there was a point when I had to resist the urge to go out. At the weekend we'd all go down to the beach, either Manly or Bondi, and then head out in the evening, generally to a backpacker bar, which wasn't my cup of tea, yet I always had a good time.

One Saturday the girls and I went to the Blue mountains, about 2 hours out of the city, for a day trip. When we eventually got there, out tour guide took us on a very, very long walk into the mountains to waterfalls, telling us the history and Aboriginal stories as we went. They were really beautiful, similar to the Grampians in Victoria, although not as vast. Still, the forest goes out as far as the eye can see, and as with the Grampians, photos just don't do it justice.

So when we went on this long walk, it didn't occur to me that walking all the way down, meant that we had to walk all the way back up. We're talking about 1000 steps (that might be an exaggeration, but that's certainly how it felt)! And they were steep too. Then add to that a hot and humid day, and you can imagine what it was like climbing back up. I could already tell that I'd be feeling this for the next few days!

After a full day at the mountains, you'd think we would come home and relax, but oh no. I was having to keep up with two twenty year olds, and so the minute we came back, we were getting showered and ready to go out!

After being in a hostel for a few weeks now, I realise that it's not that bad. After all I did it for ages when I was in Melbourne. And so I decide to start looking for somewhere to live in the New Year, when hopefully, things will have quietened down and people will start to move on. So aside from still living in a hostel, I've been in Sydney a month now and feel rather settled. I've got a job to tide me over, I have a good group of friends, and a more active social life than I can handle in my old age! I'm still a Melbourne girl at heart, but I think given time, Sydney might convert me!

A few days in Fremantle

After a 6 hour wait back in Kuala Lumpur, I was on a flight to Perth. Aside from being the cheapest place in Australia to fly to from KL, I also wanted to spend some time over in Western Australia, as I hadn't the last time I was here. This was the original plan anyway.

So, I landed in Perth at 5.30am, along with a plane load of Malaysians. The queue at Immigration was really long, but I patiently waited my turn, shuffling gradually towards the front.

I had my visa details and passport in my hand, and stepped up to the counter. Quick and easy, the woman stamped my passport and I walked through to collect my backpack. Immediately as I walked through I was approached by a woman not much older than me. She asked if this was my first or second working holiday visa. I answered that it was my second. Then came 101 questions. She took me aside and asked me things like, 'what sort of work did you do?' 'where did you work?' 'what dates were you working?' 'where did you stay?' and so on. She even asked me to name the river in the local town at the second place I did my 'agricultural work'. Although I knew all the answers to these questions, I was tired and not thinking straight. I was answering but stuttering and hesitating. She told me to take a seat and so I did. I waited and waited, telling myself to act natural, and then wondering what to do in order to act natural! It was ridiculous....these people really know how to make you feel nervous! After about 15 minutes of sitting there by myself, exhausted and frustrated, she came back and said she'd called one of the companies I'd worked for and they'd confirmed my employment. I was free to go! What a relief! I had no idea that after my visa had been granted back in July, I'd be subjected to interrogation upon arrival into the country. The woman then explained that so many backpackers enter the country with someone elses employment details, and that regularly (3 or 4 times a week) they cancel visas and send people on the first flight home! If that had happened to me I'd have asked if they could maybe send me back to Bali instead! My advice now is that I would NEVER recommend anyone even attempt to come into Australia on a false visa. I know that people do it all the time, but I've since been told that Immigration is getting really strict.

So anyway, I took the shuttle the 45 minutes to Fremantle. I'd had friends recommend that I spend time here. It's the beach town of Perth, similar to Melbourne's St Kilda or Sydney's Bondi. I got to the Backpackers Inn at about 7.30am to see that it was closed! Argh... after the nightmare I'd just had, all I wanted to do was check in and sleep for a few hours. I waited and waited, and eventually by 9am I was checked in and tucked up in bed!

After my nap, I had a quick wander round this small town, then settled in the communal area back at the hostel. Here I met loads of other backpackers, and by that evening we were all sitting in the courtyard outside drinking beer and getting to know eachother. This became the routine over the next few days.

Before I'd arrived, Perth had been having fantastic weather considering the time of year, and was much warmer than the East coast. Typically, now this wasn't the case. The weather really turned, so much so that I was sitting around in jeans and a hoody. What's worse is that after 12 days in Bali/ KL, my body was used to hot weather, so of course now I caught a cold.

With the weather like this, there's not much to do in a beachside town. Therefore we spent most days sitting around, wrapped up in warm clothes, playing cards and drinking beer. Part of me felt bad considering I was only here for 4 or 5 days, so I should be doing something, but at the same time I was really enjoying myself! It felt good to be a backpacker again. The only time we left the hostel was to go to the supermarket for supplies (beer).

On my third or fourth day, I woke up to sunshine! Not wanting to waste a second, I grabbed Louise, a girl from Manchester I'd met, and we took the free bus down to South beach. It wasn't quite nice enough to sit at the beach and sunbathe, but I couldn't leave this town without stepping foot on sand. We then walked the long way back, rather than get back on the bus, so that we could get to see the sights of Fremantle. The market was on, so we wandered round there. And we even came across a road called Essex Street! Which, might I add, was one of the best streets in Freo! There were loads of bars and lovely restaurants, nice buildings etc.

Back at the hostel after our 'day trip', it was the usual story, back in the courtyard with everyone else, beer in hand and a game of cards on the go.

My friend Chris, one of the Frankston boys, had recently moved to Perth for work. So he, along with 2 friends, came and met me at the hostel where we had a few beers before we hit the town. We went to a bar that had a great live motown band. And then onto another bar that also had a live band. The atmosphere in Freo is great, and is full of backpackers! I think the locals are a minority here. We ended the night in a local club where, as well as showing our ID, we had to have our finger prints scanned! I've never seen anything like it.

Thankfully, earlier that evening, I'd decided to pack my bags. I staggered home at around 4am and got straight in bed, only to wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, reminding me that I had to check out in half an hour.

Usually, at 10am, no one at the hostel is up and about yet. But today, after I'd checked out and was about to nap on the sofas for a couple of hours, I saw a few of the people I'd been out with the night before. Now don't ask why, considering my lack of sleep and my massive headache, but it seemed like a good idea to start the day with an ice cold beer! And so that's what we did. We sat in the courtyard, the sun was really strong (typical as it was the day I was leaving), and we played cards whilst drinking a few beers. A great way to spend the day! And after a while, I couldn't tell anymore if I was hungover or a bit tipsy!!

Later on, Chris came and picked me up and took me back to his house closer to the airport, to save me the $33 shuttle cost. Back at Chris's, the boys were getting ready for a night out and were drinking rum and coke, so of course I joined them. What possessed me I have no idea! Because I had to leave at 9 to head for the airport.

Once I got there, I had a massive struggle to try and check in for my flight. I was quiet tipsy by now, and getting easily confused! So much so, that after I'd tried to check in for a Qantas flight (I was flying Jetstar) I eventually checked in, went through to have my hand luggage scanned (and searched - I must have one of those faces)... I then went up the escalator to departures. Not quite with it at all, I then followed a couple and ended up in baggage reclaim. I'd basically walked into the airport and then straight out again! And so, red faced, I queued up to have my hand luggage scanned, again, and then went up to the escalator and stayed there!

At 11pm, I boarded my flight to Sydney and fell into a much needed deep sleep!

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......