2010 is done.

I invited you into my world around this time last year, when I was heartbroken but not downtrodden, about to embark on (yet another) adventure of a lifetime. So, how did it go?

Shopping in Dubai.

2010 has been a year of two halves. It began with me at my brightest and shiniest, clutching my passport, capsule wardrobe organised, as I stepped out into the south east asian yonder. I was living my dream, no borders, no routine, no major budgetary restraints, a pack full of fab yet practical outfits, sunshine, sand, food, drinks, shopping, and boys! I never wanted it to end.

But it did. I skidded, scowling back into the UK on 1 April, yes April Fool’s Day, I think this should have been a sign, no biggie, I had a plan. Before my return, I had already begun applying for all kinds of far flung jobs that I thought would satisfy my desire to be anything but ordinary, Emirates and Celebrity Cruises among my hoped for employers. Back in Birmingham, I waited by the phone, checked my email, repeatedly, attempted to believe one of these jobs was mine. Despite my best efforts, it wasn’t to be. 

Sunset on Ko Lipe.

By now I could already feel the sun setting on my “life” as my trip became a bunch of photos, some fairly distributed gifts and a set of entertaining pub stories. I clung to every lunch, dinner, drinks date as if my life depended on it, something had to be done.

Statue at the MoD in Bs As.

“If the work won’t come to me, I’ll go to it!” I proclaimed as I returned to yet another city of my broken dreams, Madrid. My heart said no but my sensible, grown up mind, said a job in Spain is better than no job in Birmingham. Only I continued to fail to secure gainful employment and as my bank account dwindled, I began to panic.

Drinking mate in Bs As.

Slipping into total darkness was not an option, there had to be some shiny to be had somewhere! I know, I’ll do what I always do, which is, to do one. Where? WHERE?! South America, the plan was hatched, my bags were packed, the Universe worked it’s magic. I’m saved! I thought as I grabbed my passport and boarded the dilapidated TAM Boeing 777. All the same, I didn’t feel shiny on the inside, “it’ll come”, I told my self, "once I’m settled in and organised". Only it never did, so I came back.

So here I am, XX years old, unemployed, single and living with my parents. On the plus side, I have my family and friends nearby and my many boxes of crap at my disposal. I can’t think of a better place to scrub, buffer and polish myself to restore my shine ready to tackle a whole new year.

Merry Christmas one and all, may your dreams come true in 2011.

Been there, done that.

When I left for Buenos Aires, I didn’t know what to expect, I wasn’t chasing some (South) American dream. Like everywhere else I have been I wanted to see what it was like and it seemed as good an idea as any.

As I already had the job sorted, I left 2 weeks before my start date to give myself time to get a feel for the place and find somewhere to live. I had been told I would arrive just as spring had sprung, the best time to be in Bs As. When I got there, it was minus too much, blowing a gale and raining. It continued to do so as I walked the pot-holed streets, dodged the traffic, tried to find charm in riding the antiquated, fire hazard subway was complemented on my Spanish accent, saw some tango, visited some sights and found that all I would ever be able to eat was pizza.

Work began as a breeze, I was the golden girl. I seduced the students with the smile, the laugh, the songs the jokes, they couldn’t get enough and neither could I. By now I had moved to an apartment in the ritzy barrio of Recoleta. I had landed on my feet, no? No. In fact, it was the beginning of the end. From then on I was beset by a series of dirty, dishonest, disorganised, disrespectful, depressing events and behaviours.

Before each trip my family and friends wax lyrical of my courage, confidence and strength to set off all alone to a place where I know no one and nothing. Here’s the thing, there you are all alone, you have to make every decision on your own, fight every battle on your own.Thus one Saturday morning , after two months of battling, struggling, scams and disappointments, I was spent, I had no fight left. So just like that, I used the little energy and funding I had left to get on a plane and came back. 

Despite the trauma it wasn’t all bad in Bs As, I met some lovely people among them, a student daring to follow her dream of romance across the globe, work mates who reminded me to keep smiling, and a Colombian chef who made sure I ate properly and gave me a shoulder to lean on when I was too drunk to stand! and the anchovy pizza at Pizza Guerrin, will always be my favourite along with the gallon or so of malbec I drank with it.

One day I might like to return to Argentina to do a wine tour of Mendoza and pretend like I’m good in the cold whilst oohing and aahing at the ice fields and glaciers of Tierra del Fuego, but not anytime soon.

Thanks to Alice, Luke, Julia, Flor, Jose, Fiorella, Angie, Bruno, Mariangeles, Pedro and not forgetting... Mario.

Home sweet "home".

After 3 months bouncing half way around the world it was time to return to Europe. As I boarded my Emirates flight from Dubai (unaware of my now silver card Skywards status) I couldn't help but feel crushed. To compensate, I drank as much red wine as I could and watched a bunch of movies back to back.


On arrival in Birmingham, I was met by my Dad, beaming as his prodigal daughter had returned in one piece. I scowled, complained about the cold and demanded that my parents move somewhere else so I wouldn't have to visit them here and once I get back to Spain, I'm not going to visit so often because there are way too many other, warmer places to go. "It's been hot where you've been, love?" asked the taxi driver, I spluttered and began to fit.

At my parents' house (not the house I grew up in but one purchased after they were quite sure my sister and I would not attempt to return permanently) my mother greeted me with a hug and indicated that the kettle had boiled so therefore I could make myself a cup of roobios or other such non builder's tea.


Pleased as I was to be reunited with my family, I felt anxious, frustrated, exasperated, I had THE RAGE!

I spent the next few weeks sleeping in a proper bed, luxuriating in hot showers, reacquainting myself with my epilator, catching up with friends and indulging in a "fling". And in between all that, applying for jobs in Barcelona. I scoured recruitment websites filled in forms, sent CVs, waited, sent follow up emails and hoped. But I heard nothing. As my remaining savings began to dwindle, I became desperate. Many an unfortunate decision has been born out of desperation.


Fearing I would never return "home", I tentatively applied for some positions in Madrid. No sooner had I done so than my email inbox began to haemorrhage and iPhone was ringing off the hook!


Sure that this was as good a plan as any, I agreed to the interviews and booked a flight. Incredulous at the thought of setting foot in a place I had vowed never to revisit. Would the mountain top, overgrown village of freezing winters and arid summers want me back?

No. Despite my best efforts, I failed to secure gainful employment. I began to panic, as my bank balance dwindled to zero, I could feel the darkness creeping in.


What was I doing? No home, no money, no job. I swallowed my pride, it was time to return to England. The thought alone induced horrendous panic attacks and mood swings, between which, I applied for an extension to my unemployment benefit, filed my tax return and daydreamed about running away to South America - Europe is dead! I proclaimed.


It was in the midst of one of these manias I began to make my daydream become reality. Whilst surfing the net on my now handicapped MacBook (get well soon!) I began to think about Wall Street Institute, my previous employer, they'd got me into this.... Wait, they might just be able to get me out of it too. Before I knew it, I had accessed their global site and applied to every South American country they had a centre in. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!


Unthinkingly, I began to make enquires to anyone I knew from or had been to South America. Before I knew it, I was daydreaming of tango dancing in Buenos Aires and marrying a ranchero. But it was just a dream, right? So I continued to half heartedly apply for jobs in Madrid despite having packed my stuff up ready to ship "home".


Then I got an email from WSI global Service Manager, did I fancy working in Nicaragua? Not really, but had they seen my application for Argentina? Yes, the national Service Manager will be in touch. Lisandro emailled requesting a Skype interview.


We talked, we joked, we laughed, he offered me a job, I thought I misheard.


But just like that I was playing Gotan Project on repeat and stalking the Lonely Planet website. There was something in the air....

As if by magic I secured a non too legal job, and began looking for flights and a means of returning my boxes of crap to my parents' garage (I could imagine their joy!). 

No matter how atramentous life might seem at times, it's for a reason, you're on the wrong path because once you're on the right one, things couldn't be easier. 

Before I knew it, I had secured passage for my stuff, a flight to the UK and then..... a bargain flight to Buenos Aires! 

The remainder of July flew by as I crashed in various friends' homes, attempted to avoid the sales and occasionally teach some people to speak English. 

Then it was August, time to bid Madrid adiós after a final weekend of drunken debauchery and a night at the airport. 

I'd like to thank all of my Madrileño friends for storing my stuff, opening their homes to me and along with my family and friends around the world, helping me to keep the faith!

Next stop my new home, Buenos Aires....

Oh, and my MacBook is all better!

I had to! Queenstown, New Zealand.

My memories of my time in Queenstown are at times much like my previous trip there, a little hazy. However, I will do my best to drag the details from the (gin & tonic) fog of my mind to share with you....

I arrived from Christchurch on a shiny Jetstar A320 vowing never to stay at the Kiwi Basecamp ever again. I was met at the cheery one room terminal by my oldest (as in length of time!) pal. 

Katy and I have been friends since we were babes in arms, our parents were neighbours, our birthdays are on consecutive days which led to many a joint party as kids and even more drunken ones as we have become older. 

I was in town for exactly that, our birthdays, her wedding anniversary and to meet the latest addition to her family, dancing baby Dylan. He gazed up at me from his buggy with the same piercing blue eyes as his mother, looked at her for reassurance, then turned back and wrinkled his face up into a grin revealing his four new teeth; my heart melted. 

Queenstown is a town of mountains and a big ass lake, Lake Wakatipu. It is also the centre if not birthplace of all kinds of extreme sports. Now, those of you who know me will be well aware that despite having pushed myself far out of my comfort zone on this trip, I was not about to fling myself off a cliff in the name of fun!

No, I had other things on my mind for Queenstown is also the home of the one and only Fergburger!  Ya, more food! Honestly, you have not tasted a burger meat or non meat eater alike until you have had a Ferg. Also, they have great way of being appropriate at any time of day, night or state of inebriation.  As a non meat eater, I mostly gorged myself on the “Codfather” consisting of fresh blue cod, beer battered with Ferg’s dill tartare, lettuce, red onion and aioli (in my case minus tomato and sometimes plus avocado). Yum!

My friend is something of a local celebrity having won Starry Eyed a live version of the TV show Stars in their Eyes performing as The Cranberries Dolores O’Riordan. Whilst I was in town, Katy had a gig as part of a karaoke show for St Patrick’s day. At the mention of free drinks, I volunteered my services, drunk being the only way you’ll get me to do karaoke.

We arrived at the Lone Star in Wanaka, set up, ate a load of nachos and I hit the Lindauer.

Suitably tipsy I attempted a rendition of Dolly Parton’s Jolene and Shy FX’s Shake Your Body. I don’t remember anyone booing, so I can’t have been all that bad!

The next few days were spent recovering and dancing with Dylan, who by now had become my best friend after mistaking me for Beyonce whilst we danced to one of her videos. May he never grow up to forget this! One evening, whilst relaxing on the verandah, I was struck by how shiny and bright the stars were, when I asked, “what’s that cloud over there?” “The Milky Way” was the honest response, I was blown away and from then on kept my eye out for shooting stars and was not disappointed when one conveniently revealed itself on the 22 March.

This year our birthdays were on week days so we rallied the girls on Saturday night and after gin and SingStar at home head into town. A jolly good time was had by all. 

After failing to do any real sightseeing on my previous trip, I decided to take a trip to Milford Sound. Milford Sound named after Milford Haven in Wales is actually a fjord. It is part of the Te Wahipounamu World Heritage Site and is New Zealand’s most famous tourist destination. I had high hopes.

My trip was delayed by a few days due to heavy rain having caused mud slides on the Milford road. When we left Queenstown, it was dark, but clear, as we drove along and day broke, it looked to be a nice day.  As we drew closer to Milford, the clouds gathered and it began to rain. By the time we boarded the boat for the 2 1/2 hour cruise it was blowing a gale and tipping it down. We set out anyway, assured by our driver that we would see many beautiful waterfalls, you think?!

I donned my foldaway waterproof and got into the spirit of things and was truly delighted when I saw some seals. It was a fun day with stops in Te Anau along the way, I might even do it again next time I’m in town if the weather is better. 

Before it was time for me to leave, Katy and I decided to treat ourselves to a birthday lunch, we went to Aggy’s shack and took home the seafood platter: 6 smoked mussels, 6 prawns, 4 battered scallops, 2 fish, chips and sauces. It was fantastic! I also took the gondola up the hillside and admired the view, nearly froze to death and came back down, that was  as extreme as I got!

My last night in Queenstown was spent trying to force all of the new clothes I had bought into my pack and then impromptu drinking in town.

Then, just like that, it was time to head back to Christchurch where I stayed at the very funky Hotel So.

Thanks to Katy, Paul, Dylan, Jane and Sue for a fab time and asking me to stay!

Have you seen her? Christchurch & Nelson

Thank Christ, there's a church I thought as I arrived in Christchurch on New Zealand's south island. I was tired and jaded after leaving Sydney at ffnngh o'clock. I was ferried in on an Emirates 777-300ER, take note the ER is important, it may well change your life! The standard Emirates 777-300 is a tired has-been, the ER has a seating plan akin to it's European cousin the A380 but being American rather lacks the finesse.

I digress...

On arrival at Christchurch airport I was collected by mini bus provided by the Kiwi Base Camp. As we drove into town, I was struck by the familiarity of my surroundings. It was green, leafy and kind of old around the edges, hell, it was Edgbaston (Birmingham, UK)!

I considered this thus, as I no longer live in the UK, it was no hardship, although I refused to take photos... However, if I had just paid several hundred pounds and travelled for nearly 24 hours from, say, Birmingham, I would have been somewhat vexed especially when one could have taken the number 35 bus, considerably cheaper and taking only 25 minutes.

After 20 minutes or so, we arrived at the Kiwi Base Camp. Reception was a haphazard, lackadaisical affair. I was shown up to my room. It was basic with a bed, dressing table, desk and tv, the shower rooms were down the hall. The furniture appeared to have been collected from the street on recycle days but it was clean and worked.

Suffering from road weariness, I decided not to investigate the town and headed to the Burger King I had passed on the way in. I approached the counter and asked the blank faced, Emo youth and asked, "Do you have anything meat free?" "What?" it replied. "Do you have anything meat free such as a fish or veggie burger?" I continued. "What? Oh, we have the garden burger" she replied in that slow, suicidal drawl of all fast food establishment employees. "What's that?" I asked. "Onion rings and cheese, in a bun".

Feeling queasy, I ordered a green salad and some fries and scurried back to my hostel. I use the word hostel quite literally as I began to discover, this place was everything that I had dreaded a hostel to be.


That night was spent watching uninspiring TV and rolling around trying to avoid the springs that protruded from the mattress. The next morning I went down to breakfast in the hygienically challenged shared kitchen. I did manage to enjoy the freshly baked bread although the insipid instant coffee left much to be desired. Then went and waited my turn for a shower, refreshed, I headed out in search of real coffee.




I grabbed a map and took Montreal Street into town stopping briefly for a decaf skinny latte and to admire the clock tower. On arrival, I found a large park, not unlike Canon Hill park where they were setting up for a Chinese community festival.


There were brightly coloured paper lanterns of all shapes and sizes cast all around.





I walked up and down, around and about stopping for lunch and a cheerie chat with the not unattractive guy in the Red Cross shop. Sated, I headed back to the hostel and in search of a bottle shop (alcohol shop), I had spotted a Thai restaurant that was 'bring your own'.

I dined on a delicious Penang prawn curry at Bangkok Cuisine. Back at the hostel I sat out on the deck pondering what to do with 2 thirds of a bottle of wine I didn't want to drink alone. Soon enough, I was joined by Renata, a German traveller on her way to Byron Bay to study for the IELTS (English language) exam. She was glad of a sympathetic ear and I was happy to share my wine and expertise.

The next morning I decided not to brave the kitchen and sourced breakfast in town. I returned to the hostel in time for my return bus to the airport.

At Christchurch I boarded an Air New Zealand flight to Nelson. Domestic air travel in New Zealand is a delight where you are treated like a human being and not assumed to be a criminal, you can take what you like onboard as long as you promise to behave yourself.

The flight took 40 minutes on a Bombadier propeller aircraft where we were served a glass of water and a boiled sweet. I was astounded as even this seemed to be too much work for the solo flight attendant. In my day I would have served drinks, three courses with wine, coffee and liquers in Club class as well as drinks, sandwiches, tea and coffee 'down the back'!

On arrival in Nelson she informed us that we would collect our luggage outside the terminal, alongside the aircraft, I thought. Right? Wrong. Upon disembarking I followed the other passengers into the building, past the one shop and out to the street where sure enough the bags were brought around on a trolley.

I was picked up by Scott an Edinburgher working at the Golden Lodge. We drove through the picture postcard seaside town of Nelson and up the hill to Fellworth House a 130 year old Victorian house and home of the Golden Lodge.




What can I say? The house has been beautifully restored and offered amazing views of the town and bay below. It was bliss, I luxuriated on one of the many balconies until it was time to meet up with my friend, Rachael.

Rachael and I had flown together back in the day. She arrived glowing, smiling, blooming in the latter days of her pregnancy. With over 11 years catching up to do, we had a lot to talk about! Which we did over a delightful seafood pasta and a humungus pizza at When in Rome.

The next day was spent wandering around town, meeting Rachael for lunch and having dinner with a Russian, a French man and a couple from Ireland back at the lodge.



The next morning, feeling a little wine weary I went out in search of coffee. I returned caffeined and pierced. I had exited the plague like, green logoed American coffee chain and walked past a clothing store/hairdresser/piercing studio.

What possessed me to spin on my heel and march in? After trying on two tops, I asked the girl behind the counter, "How much is it to pierce here?" and pointed at my right tragus. "30$ including the stud or bar" she replied. I eyed up the selection of bits of metal I could have shoved into my face and was seduced by a twinkly diamonte stud, "Can I have that?" "Yup" she said with a typically New Zealand twang.

I filled out a form and was directed up the stairs to a room not unlike a dentist's. I sat in the chair and chit chatted with the girl as she whammed some needle like instrument into my ear. I don't remember there being any anesthetic but it was already done before it started to hurt. She screwed my stud in, wiped up the blood (I've had this piercing before so she was going through scar tissue, it bleeds more) and sent me on my way.



I skipped back to the lodge eager to show off my new augmentation. There was no one around, so I got changed and headed up to the alleged center of New Zealand. Scott had told me it was a pleasant 20 minute walk.

As I started up the hill, there were two old ladies ahead of me "Can't be that hard" I thought. I huffed and puffed sometimes overtaking the old dears on the zig zag path. Towards the summit I came to a cross roads, which way to go? The ladies were nowhere to be seen. I chose to go right and nearly gave myself a coronary climbing the precipice. I rounded the corner and finally I was there!


As I admired the view who should I see but my track buddies strolling along looking relaxed and smug for they had taken the path to the left, the gently inclining short cut.



I rested a while to get my breath back and lament not having brought any water with me then gingerly donned my earphones (what with the new piercing and all) and set off back down the hill singing along to Pitingo.

Back at the lodge it was time to pack up my stuff (again!!!) then Scott dropped me back at the airport for my flight back to Oh Christ! church.

I had previously booked another night at the Kiwi Base Camp and after the luxury of the Golden Lodge, I wasn't looking forward to it. I was given a room right opposite reception, next to the front door, it had a bunk bed a reclaimed school desk and a broken radiator. I was not impressed.

I returned to Bangkok Cuisine for a tasty pad thai; then, thankfully exhausted, headed to bed. I listened to countless drunken twentysomething travellers punch in the wrong key code, slam the door, scream and shout, enquire about availability whilst the staff had a BBQ round the back.

After about 3 hours sleep my elderly and now miserable carcass was collected by the Super Shuttle driver and transported to the airport for my stupid o'clock flight to Queenstown.

Oh the joys of budget travel!

Good luck to Rachael and husband on the imminent arrival of their bambi, was lovely to see you.

Next stop, the mighty Queenstown!!!!!!



- Posted from my iPhone

Have you got the time? Sydney, Australia.

After a 12 hour walk, boat, bus, ferry, bus, taxi journey, I spent one night in Legian, Bali at the Tune hotel. Very nice it was too with the duvet and power shower, that is until I decided to order breakfast at the in house catering franchise thing. I ordered a breakfast set consisting of coffee and grilled bread, coffee & toast right? Wrong! I was served a Nescafe so thick with added sugar it had an almost syrupy texture and the grilled bread? That was a chocolate spread toastie with grated cheese on top.





As you can imagine, I was suitably unimpressed.

Next was another shiny new Air Asia Airbus 320 off to Bangkok. I had booked a room at the Thong Ta hotel & spa just past the end of the runway. On the transfer I got talking to Jeanie a London tour guide who had also been in Bali and was meeting her friend Liz at the hotel.

I was still checking in at reception when my new friends demanded to know what I was drinking so they could get one in for me. "Singha" I replied and followed the porter up to my room (5th floor, no lift!). I dump my stuff and head back down to the bar.






Take note, it is now 17:00... Jeanie , Liz and I proceeded to swap traveller's tales, drink beer, tell rude jokes, laugh at the top comedy toilet paper dispenser, drink more beer... I was mesmerized by their stories of guiding tourists around the UK over the years. There was a brief pause for dinner, shrimp pad thai and then there was no more beer, to our horror, the hotel bar had closed. "No problem" said Liz, "There's a 7-11 around the corner!" Before we could even consider protesting, she was gone. Upon her return we drank more beer, laughed hysterically had a few toilet near misses an just when we'd thought we'd had enough and were heading for bed, Liz would make like Mary Poppins and more beer would emerge from her bottomless bag!! Finally, I made it to bed at 03:00, I believe the room was spinning....

The following morning I had planned to visit the spa for a massage before my 9hr flight. Instead I used the money to pay for a late check out and stayed in my room until 15:00.

After another pad thai and a gallon of coke I was off to the airport, again. Took me a while to get my head around the fact I wasn't allowed to buy duty free alcohol, find Starbucks but they didn't have wifi and deal with my now road weary guts.





Thus I boarded my Emirates flight to Sydney clutching my Imodium supplies. I had hoped to sleep through it but the mentally challenged Scottish backpacker behind me kept punching her "touchscreen" entertainment system and wondering aloud why it wasn't working.





I watched Flight of the Concords and Heroes then settled for gazing out of the window as we chased the sunrise.






I arrived in Sydney feeling somewhat jaded but very happy to see my good friend Emma who moved out here 14 years ago. Emma took my on a whirlwind tour of downtown Sydney, crossing the harbour bridge and stopping in the seaside town of Manly for lunch.

The next day, Saturday, Emma hosted an Aussie BBQ in my honour. It was a fabulously sunny afternoon full of joke, burgers and wine, what more could you wish for?!

On Sunday, we and our hangovers headed to Coledale market, an eclectic mix of secondhand clothes, food, handmade jewellery and general bric-a-brac sold from stalls set on a school playground beside the beach.



Next stop was Baldhead famous jump off point for paragliders.

On Tuesday I hotfooted it into Sydney (90 minute train ride) for some well deserved though budget busting shopping. I was overjoyed at finally entering an American Apparel store (I've had to order online) and purchased a divine black dolman sleeve top. Then I got a slouchy knit dress from a funky boutique called Collective just of Oxford street.







All shopped out, I took a train up to Circular Quay to see the sights up close and personal (again, this is my third trip to Sydney).














Then it was time to take another train over to Bondi Junction to meet up with my friend Stephanie who worked with me in Madrid. Steph showed me around her seaside neighbourhood of Cogee, the scenery was stunning and the sea air quite refreshing.






We stopped for a pre dinner 10 minute neck & shoulder massage before heading to the bottle shop (a shop that sells alcohol) a lot of restaurants here allow you to bring your own and alcohol is not sold in supermarkets.

We opted for bustling yet peaceful Thai place and chowed down on seafood Penang curry and steamed salmon in black bean sauce. Estupendo!

The next day I headed back into town to catch up with Davinia of Shaz & Dave Corfu tour, fame! (If you don't know the story, ask me to tell you sometime!). Having not seen her for the best part of 8 years, we had a lot to catch up on! We talked and talked until it was time for her to head back to work looking every inch the powerful business woman.

I meandered back to Wollongong where that evening I was treated to a pub dinner at Oscar's. I chose Oscar's seafood basket and that's exactly what I got!












My last afternoon in Australia was spent visiting Nan Tien, the largest Buddhist temple in the southern hemisphere.

It was the perfect ending to a relaxed week which was just what I needed after my Asian jet setting.

Thank you Emma, Chloe and Steph for lending me a home and an ear and Vinny for remaining fabulous!

Next stop, Christchurch & Nelson, New Zealand.


- Posted from my iPhone

I can do it! Lombok & Gili Air.

Lombok is an island to the east of Bali. I left Candidasa at 08:30 took a bus back to Padangbai and then a 5 hour ferry. It's not actually that far, it's just the ferry was sloooow!




At Padangbai, I got off the bus and a man that appeared to have emerged from the Perama office grabbed my bag and said, "I'll take it for you!". A little later whilst waiting at the port, my brain clicked into gear and I realised this was another porterage scam. When the time to board came, I took charge of my bag and marched away. The "porter" ran behind me shouting, "I take your bag... oh, you don't want to pay?!" No, I thought, given a choice, I probably would have but being bamboozled into it, I was having none of it! I can't say that I didn't regret this when I had to haul it up the narrow, steep staircase to the passenger deck...



On board, I settled into a space for four, hell everyone else was marking out their territory! Food sellers came and went and we were on our way at a snail's pace. Several hours later, we arrived at Lembar port, I dragged the bag back down the staircase and boarded the Perama bus bound for Senggigi.





Senggigi was rather like Ko Lanta, the beach with a main road of hotels, bars and restaurants running along it. I left my bag at the Perama office and went looking for a place to stay. It was hot, I walked up, I walked down and around and eventually chose the Lina Hotel...... opposite the Perama office!

The Lina Hotel was described in my guidebook as shabby, clinging onto a former glory. What it lacked in style it made up for with it's beachfront location. I chose a room with aircon and seaview. The beach being 2 minutes from my door.




I dumped my stuff then ventured out in search of sustainance. I stopped at the Square and chowed down on the finest seafood cap cay I've ever eaten and was delighted to find they had wifi. In the evening, I befriended a couple from Somerset (UK) on the hotel terrace and we swapped traveller's tales over a few Bintangs.

The next day I found a cafe, with wifi, in which to have continental breakfast with a cheese omelette on the side. Then I decided to brave the beach. As Lombok is predominantly Muslim, I wanted to see if anyone was beachside in a bikini. There was no one on the beach. I looked one way and then the other, it was deserted. I pondered the time, nearly 17:00, well past the hottest part of the day. Where was everyone? No matter, I headed for the shoreline to take a walk. The sand felt quite warm, as I walked a little further it began to feel quite hot. With the soles of my feet burning, I danced like a chicken across the sand and into the sea. I laughed outloud at myself!




I paddled along until I found a spot narrow enough to cut back to the hotel without burning the remaining skin from my feet. Back at the hotel, I took a seat at the bar and ordered a small beer, having forgotten to specify Bintang, I was served an Anker, I do not have words to describe how bad it was.

I proceeded to meet Jonas (Norway), Kevin (US but lives in Korea) and Irma (Holland). All four of us travelling alone we chatted over beers then reconveened for dinner at Bambu where I had a delicious fish risotto and a happy memory invoking avocado juice.





The next morning, Irma and I left for the tiny island of Gili Air. Here was when I made one of the wisest decisions of the whole trip thusfar! The night before I had consulted my oracle, yet often inaccurate, guidebook. It stated that like Ko Lipe, boats would dock in the sea and it was necessary to wade out to the island.... with your luggage. Na-ah! I thought and had promptly packed everything I needed into my flight bag and day pack. So in the morning, I hotfooted it over to Perama and asked if I could leave my big bag with them. "No problem" said the man behind the desk, "When will you be back for it?". "The 23rd!" I yelled as I skipped out the door.

I was taken by bus for 35 minutes along the costal road and deposited in a bar near to Bangsal port. There, I met 2 couples from the Czech Republic but Irma was nowhere to be seen. After an age, we were pointed in the general direction of the port. We dodged the offers of cidomo (horse & cart) transport and headed for the sea.

We were ushered onto a kind of longtail boat along with local traders, plants, eggs, bags of rice and I swear I saw some chickens! The journey took only 25 minutes over the clear blue sea. On arrival we jumped into the sea, me with my mini bags, and flip-flopped onto the beach. There, we were inundated with offers of accommodation and transport. The Gili islands have no motorised transport and, incindentally, no police prescence.

I was trying to look out for Irma, dodge the touts and get my bearings when one of the Czech guys called me over. They were looking at a flyer a tout was showing them. "It looks nice" said one, I agreed so we all followed the man out to the property. Clearly, the flyer had been printed 15 years previously. We consulted our books and fled the scene taking the coastal "road" a sandy dirt track that circles the island.

The Czech guys opted for a modern aircon, Habitat kind of place. Me, I went for a jungle hut at Gili Air Santay. I made my choice based mainly on the reviews of the restaurant, fabulous Thai food! Also, I reasoned that I could have Habitat type style anytime in Europe and as I was on a barely inhabited island, should therefore make like Robinson Crusoe. This state of mind wore off after nightfall and upon discovering that my neighbours were cows.




I stuck out the two nights I had booked but something was very wrong. I couldn't sleep, I felt miserable, I was being attacked by all kinds of creepy crawly things. I longed for aircon, hot water, hell, fresh water! It's sea water here. I wanted Ikea, Habitat and Pizza Express.... I was homesick.




Having met some cool people, a couple from Cornwall, a Belgian magazine editor and having found Irma again I decided to stay longer on Gili Air. The next day I found myself a bungalow complete with aircon, hot water, designer tiled outdoor bathroom, TV, minibar and they bring breakfast to your door!!!! I also invested in the strongest anti mosquito spray I could find and began to feel more like me.




Otherwise, I and my new friends had settled into small island life. Our days are punctuated by meal breaks and siestas, it takes at least 40 minutes and sometimes a vote to decide on either! We watch the boats come and go, smile and say hello to our neighbours as they pass by on their/our 90 minute round the island walk. "Hello Sharon!" shout the staff at the Santay as I arrive for lunch, dinner, drinks. We wait out the power cuts, I take a cidomo to the internet cafe...








We were also involved in an impromptu "lock in" i.e. it started to rain so no one could leave the bar!


Save for transit stops in Legian (Bali) and Bangkok my time in south east Asia is over, for this trip anyway.

I look in the mirror, I am so tanned I barely recognise myself, my hair is sunbleached several shades lighter. I think about how far I have travelled, literally, several hundred kilometers and figuratively, I have bathed in sea water, used many a squat toilet/bush, dealt with all kinds of bugs, worn clothes several times before considering laundry, seen monkeys and elephants and eaten all kinds of curried, chilied or stewed fish and seafood.

I've made some new friends and I'm looking forward to catching up with some old ones.



Next stop: Sydney, Australia.


- Posted from my iPhone