Viva Las Vegas.....the final fling!

We arrived in Vegas on the Sunday night at about 10pm with the plane landing, as far as we could make out, actually on the main strip. We didn't know it but the airport was extremely close to the proceedings, giving you that instantaneous surge of excitement rather than being transplanted to some obscure periphery surrounded by industrial estates that you usually encounter at a major airport.


After about two minutes we encountered our first slot machines. Hundreds of them lay side by side, even before you have the opportunity to claim your baggage, waiting for you to whack out your wallet like a child who can't wait till Christmas morning to find his presents. Still, it gave some indication of what was to come.


After a swift shuttle journey we arrived late at our hotel, the instantly likeable Bills Gambling Hall. Despite the ominous sounding name it was, in every respect, perfect. The decor, resembling a turn of the century gambling hall had a slight grittiness which gave the whole 'I'm actually in Vegas' feeling even greater meaning. Our room, which was incredibly cheap, was just spectacular. Beautifully, they had put us on the top floor which gave us incredible views of the strip and in particular the Bellagio fountains, the ones made famous from the end of the Oceans Eleven movie. As giving us something magical to end our trip goes, we got everything and more. In the room we had two huge double beds, the ultimate indulgence for a bloke who's night sleeps are mostly spent working around his fiancés ridiculous sleeping position. We also managed to wangle a huge plasma tv, great for the early morning euro kick offs due to time difference!


Once downstairs we walked past our first experience of the many different game tables and made our way to the bar..$2 margaritas! From there we sat taking in the scene surrounding us and started to get excited. Our Vegas virginity had been broken.




After listening to the worlds worst collection of karaoke singers (think large American women singing Alabama country hits) we hit the road, walking over a grand bridge to the other side and into the Bellagio. I think now, with hindsight in mind, that we definitely picked the most luxurious casino first. It was full to the brim with high stakes gambling tables, designer shops and lots and lots of marble. The lobby was huge and next to it sat another big room, this time a conservatory filled with thousands of flowers, it's hard to describe but every inch of the room was taken up with something colourful and expensive. After finishing with yet more two dollar margaritas we stumbled back to our room. It was, amazingly, 4am. Time had vanished.


The next morning we were up and raring to go, eager to get started and hunt down some deals. It wasn't long before we found 1 dollar beers and margaritas!



We had, amazingly, through our accommodation at Bills, free use of the pool next door at the Flamingo. A huge pink edifice bankrolled and built in the early fifties by the New York mafioso. Despite the pool area being populated by the complete antithesis of the New York mob it was still the perfect place to some impressions of a rotisserie chicken as the thermometer quickly headed towards forty degrees, in the shade. The people who were packed into the pool, mainly screechy groups of forty something women from New Jersey or Pheonix lounged around drinking spirit mixtures out of a large plastic soft drinks container which made the whole thing, blokes included, resemble a very large adult theme park. It was great, in a way, to see people genuinely drunk at 11am as you didn't feel bad for substituting breakfast for a bucket of beers.


We tried to last the day around the pool but we were eventually beaten by the incredible heat. By 4pm it had reached 42 degrees in the shade which, added to our already consumed beers, left us feeling decidedly dodgy. Despite it being the last chance to top up our tans we would have to forfeit it all to make sure we didn't melt. The heat was, in every sense, insane.




Fortunately, by spending our day around the pool we managed to score free tickets to a show that evening. The performance, a comedy entitled 'defending the caveman' essentially centred around a comedian talking about relationships and how when all is said and done, women will just get their own way, it's just a fact of life. It was, for free anyway, a top show in one of those theatres where you get to sit with tables and served cocktails by a smoky waitress.


This would essentially be our time here for the next few days. The great thing about Vegas is that despite it's status as a city of frivolity and temptation it can be done on a budget. In fact, even without really trying you could spend so little that you would wonder, in the twilight hours at the end of the night, whether you really did put your last remaining ten dollars on red.


The next day, after a huge breakfast, we took the incredibly cheap deuce bus to the northern end of the strip to the real origins of the Vegas experience, Fremont Street. It was here many years ago that the gaudy Vegas we know today formed it's everlasting roots. We went inside some very old casinos here, mostly frequented by the Jackie and Britney types clad in nylon with their buckets of quarters. We even got our prize number called out with the chance to win $10,000 but in the end we only managed 2. Still, it's better than a slap in the face, at least we invested it wisely on another game of roulette..




That night we managed to get extremely cheap tickets for another show, this time a comedy hypnotist called Mark Savard. We'd never seen a hypnotic show before but after this, I cannot wait to see the next one! It was truly amazing. He got around thirty people up from the crowd and through a variation of differing techniques whittled those thirty down to around eight, the ones who had mostly taken to the hypnotism. I can't go through what happened in fine detail but era just say we have never in our 28 years of life, ever laughed as much as we did throughout that show.


It was a great last night in Vegas. Afterwards we went for monstrously expensive cocktails sat above the strip, having a great time people watching and playing 'spot the Brit', I think with great success. After a quick mooch around the infinite space of the MGM Grand we bought some alcohol soaking pizza before heading back to the room, the time, yet again, was nearly 4am. In hindsight, knowing we had to contend with two consecutive night flights we may not have been so stupid!




The next day was our final day in Vegas and on a way the final day of the trip. It was one of those days where we were more tired than we thought it was ever possible to be. We wandered around the last of the mega casinos, Excalibur and Luxor before heading back to Bills to sit in the dark for a few hours until it was time to leave this momentously insane city. On the way to the airport, driven in a bus by a very inquisitive guy called Tony we had one of those epiphany moments that seem to highlight the very nature of your experience. There has been that thinking, everywhere we have been that it is all very normal, something even that most people get to do. After speaking to this friendly bus driver, we could not be any further from that kind of thinking. this guy was speechless at the nature of our trip, the fact that two people experienced so much, visited so many countries and did it all independently, it's just something, he explained, that Americans just can't grasp.


Frankly, I find this amazing. A country so rich, full of people who revel in foreign food and culture within their national boundaries but who are just so scared of experiencing the real world outside.


So there we go, nearly ten months completed and 16 countries visited. We battled through our consecutive night flights in a sleep induced haze passing through nine timezones in the process. When we touched down in London things started to get very surreal. So much time away had almost institutionalised us into thinking that what we were doing was normal and that 'home', that place we left all those months ago, was just an imaginary place you pushed to the back of your mind.




Upon seeing our families though, smiling emotionally with tears in their eyes, things started to become very clear. We had done it, we had circumnavigated the world. It was, for the both of us, an indescribable feeling.


I know some people have neither the time, money or inclination to go travelling and its definitely not for everyone. Financial responsibility, children, careers all have to have their place and i understand that. However, it is in one breath the most beautiful, frustrating, life affirming, exciting, tiresome and unique experience you could ever wish to acquire and we will miss it like a lost friend. We've visited 16 countries, rode 23 forms of transport and met some truly incredible people. We have had the best ten months of our lives and despite the onset of reality just around the corner, I hope the rest of our lives are just as memorable. For the last time, for now,

Tommo and Shell - over and out x

Did someone say LA???

We were, as mentioned in the last blog, supposed to be leaving Fiji at 10pm but as expected, for this was Fiji after all, we would be delayed. It was 2am before our flight left Nadi which meant sitting around in the airport for seven frustrating and in my case anyway, horrific hours. After spending the day with stomach cramps my seven hours was spent in the airport toilets keeled over a bin that I had dragged into the cubicle. The epitome of class. Anyway, before we knew it we were in the sky. Due to the tiredness factor the ten hour flight seemed like a veritable breeze, whizzing by in a tiredness induced haze until some time later we landed in a sunny LA, intent on getting to our hostel as soon as was humanly possible. Unfortunately the shuttle bus we eventually found took an hour and a half to get to our hostel, winding its way through a literal maze of interstate freeways, gridlocked traffic and block upon block of fast food joints, asian takeaways and apartments. It was indescribably huge. 

The next day, after a feeble attempt to recover from accumulated jetlag, we set out from our hotel and wandered down Hollywood Boulevard, the street we were based. Now I know what everyone's idea of Hollywood is mostly based upon. Gleaming mansions, movie premieres and beautiful people- to a certain extent that is true, I'll explain about it shortly. The reality though is that we have never come across as many freaks as we have done in the past four days, not even in Fratton. I know we were based on Hollyword Boulevard, an area known for it's depravity, but it's almost as if all of the freaks of the world meet there for their annual convention. We passed one guy, amongst many others, who was stark bollock naked apart from a sign covering his modesty that read, 'I'm the naked ghetto prince, spank my ass for a dollar'. Unfortunately he had one of those walks that suggested the he accepted much more...

Unfortunately it isn't just Hollywood boulevard that monopolises the down and outs. In a striking lament of the US social model it is the gap between rich and poor, the grave area between the haves and the have nots that is so abundantly shocking. In one moment you could be nearly mowed down by an idiot in a Ferrari whilst witnessing a homeless guy sucking the meat of a chicken drumstick he found at the bottom of a bin. There is, not just in Hollywood, a huge population of homeless people. Ten or fifteen times the amount you would find in London. 




On our first full day there I think we instantly got a good idea of what it was all about. We checked out the avenue of stars and found all the best names and wondered as we walked in what particular order they put the names? some, like the Sammy Davis Jnr's and the  guys that landed on the moon, were really far from the centre, the sight of most of the tourists. Weirdly, some of the names that featured so prominently, Shakira, the Jonas Brothers, had ultimate positions right in the centre. is this indicative of American culture that recent manufactured pop artists take centre stage over scientific and musical pioneers?? Whichever way you look at it, Sammy Davis Jnr must be turning in his grave knowing his star stinks of piss while Justin Bieber's gets a weekly touch up. 

Later on that day we noticed quite a large crowd gathering outside the Kodak theatre, the site of the Oscars. After a while the police closed the road but we still had no idea why? We then noticed a few people who had been waiting were carrying posters of Tom Cruise, things started to fall into place. After a while long black cars started to arrive. All of a sudden a cacophony of noise started from a hundred metres down the street. Whisperings through the crowd suggested it was the king of Hollywood himself, we weren't too sure. They were right. To be fair to Mr Cruise he worked his way through the crowd talking to absolutely everyone. You gotta hand it to the guy.



After a while he made it up to our way where, with shello holding on to my legs, I managed to get a papparazzi-quality photo atop a bicycle stand, I think there's a future there somewhere... From there we stopped for traditional food and beer at a small back street place run by a quartet of cheerful Mexicans where we gorged on packed burritos and guacamole. The prices, like all of the food we had since leaving Fiji, was incredibly cheap. Plus the quality (and size!) where infinitely better which made these two hungry backpackers extremely happy! After a night of trying to ignore the distant sound of gunfire, engines the size of Panzer tanks and nonsensical homeless noises we were up the next morning for the start of our LA 'tour'.



The tour would take us as close to the famous Hollywood sign as was possible then through the Avenue of Stars, Beverley Hills and Bell Air for all those star homes and then through West LA to the beach neighbourhoods of Santa Monica and Venice Beach.  It was a great day for the tour, cloudless a skies and warm sun and we had an absolute blast. Like on any tour we never really got enough time in any one place but then hey, we definitely saw the highlights. The star homes were in the most part, secluded away behind large high gates but at least it gave you a tantalising glimpse of the exclusive lifestyles these aliens lead. I.e completely closed off from the real world.

After making our way yet again through endless streets we made our way to Santa Monica beach, home of Baywatch which was actually a really clean and expansively attractive beach. From there we travelled onwards towards Venice Beach, probably one of the most insane stretches of beach anywhere in the world. We compared it to the most strangely weird sides of Brighton or Camden but on reality it was on a different planet. We passed a guy who didn't talk but meowed, a very old black guy dressed only in tight leather y-fronts carrying a ghetto blaster....you get the picture. It was fantastic to see plus we had the greatest 'slice' of pizza we have ever had, shell was in heaven!! Oh and 'slice' being a quarter of a pizza!...




Before we were dropped back at the hotel we stopped for an hour on Rodeo Drive, LA's most exclusive shopping district. Looking like two people who had been on the road for two months (in fact shell looked amazing as usual-damn her!!) we didn't try on any Gucci or Prada but we did have a toilet stop in the famous hotel where Richard Gere met Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Sone things you have to do...     

The day after, with our flight to Vegas not till 9pm we had the day to explore as we wished. We started walking from the hotel and within a few minutes we had stumbled upon a huge side street farmers Market. We love farmers markets, they are essentially one of the greatest creations modern human beings can muster. Happy weekend people with a deep love of locally sourced and nutritious food at cheap prices. Fantastic. We strolled around for what seemed like hours. We feasted on a hot sausage quesadilla which, after ordering a half size, fed the two of us completely. From there we strolled around West Hollywoods backstreets and stumbled upon a glitch of pubs selling delicious micro-brewed local ales. The girl behind the bar gave us a free tasting of most before we plumped for a couple and whiled away the day sat in the beautiful sunshine. It was the perfect end to a sublime four days in LA, a place which I was convinced I would dislike but in the end was one of the highlights of our trip.

It is, in most senses, both beautiful and hideous in equal measure but I guess that's what makes it so unique. The best bit...watching every bloke stare at shell slack-jawed. She's still got it...x Anyway, Vegas baby!!!! Tommo and shello xxxx 

Fiji on a budget! Round two...

So the second half of our Fijian escape came and went. Due to the secluded nature of where we were staying our chances of getting out and exploring were severely limited. Despite this we booked a minibus and driver to take seven of us about 100km further east to Suva, the Fijian capital.

We were prepared really, through what the guidebooks and websites had to say about Suva that we would encounter a scruffy and overcrowded city. Well, they weren't wrong. It had no major problems per se from what we could see other than the fact it looked about as far removed from the South Pacific ideal than it was possible to get. In short it looked like the offspring of a generic Malaysian city and Fratton. I don't know what goes through developers minds when they meet with architects or designers when planning a new large building? It's almost as if the conversation goes something like, 'I think what this city really needs is a momentously huge and ugly multistorey car park', 'what colour shall we paint it sir?', 'I'm thinking something innocuous, how about bright red?', 'oh and while your at it, put it right on the seafront so all of the incoming tourists coming in on cruise ships can see it'. Idiots.

What it is also surprising to see is how large the Indian community is in Fiji. After a huge migration in the 1960s Fiji's population is now uniquely split around 60-40 in the Fijians favour but as the Indians own most of the businesses their population is mostly spread in the urban centres, with most of them in Suva. Walking around in the humidity, amongst curry houses and blaring Bollywood soundtracks, it could have been Mumbai. Even so, they all still shout Bula! to you as you walk down the street, something uniquely Fijian.

Suva did have some cool architecture and was, despite our moans, a cheap place to eat. Three hours was more than enough though so we hopped back on the minibus for the long drive back. On the outskirts of the city we happened to pass a police officer with three prisoners chained together in front of him genially waving to us as we passed without a care in the world. Apparently these guys had escaped and were in the process of being retrieved. Apparently this happens a lot in Fiji, prisoners just leisurely 'sneak-out' for a day or two. Brilliant. Imagine the furore it would create elsewhere. Just as a side-note, we passed the prison further down the road which was, much like the multi-storey car-parks I mentioned, painted bright red. This time though sponsored by vodafone which was painted in huge White letters. It must be, I reckon, the worlds first jail to be sponsored by a telephone company. I hope the irony isn't lost on the prisoners.

Our remaining days at the beachouse were golden. Although we had kind of outstayed our time there, eventually staying 9 days, I think we knew we were on to a good thing. The three guys from Manchester, Max, Luke and Greg, were a top bunch. Plus we also met a large group from Sweden who were mental. We spent most of our time with them making the most of the beautiful weather by day and the nuclear fuelled rum by night. The beachouse was also full of lots of different people of all ages which gave the whole place a really good vibe. We will really miss it, a beautiful place.

But alas, after nearly a week and a half if was time to move on. To be honest we didn't really have a clue where to go. It seems, frustratingly, that Fiji is much more expensive than we originally thought. In fact, when compared to NZ and Australia, in terms of accommodation anyway, it is really similar. In the end we trawled the Internet and found a place not too far from where we were, about half an hour west along the Coral Coast. When we got there I think we both panicked at how quiet it was. Our bungalow was awesome, we couldn't complain about that-it was probably the nicest place we had stayed in the whole way around the world but what the Internet 'deal' didn't state was two glaring discrepancies. One, we were pretty much the only people there as the resort was 'under construction'. Two, the food was so expensive it made our heads wobble as we sat down for dinner on the first night. after ordering two appetisers we went back to the room to try to sleep on an empty stomach.

The next day we waited outside the hotel for a bus into Sigatoka, the nearest largish town. We waited an eternity until a really nice Indian couple pulled up and offered to take us into town for the same price as the bus. They were really nice and before you (mum and linda!) start fretting about getting into cars with strangers, it really is different out here.

We'd gone into town to buy enough food for the next few days as we just couldn't face paying the prices in the hotel restaurant. In the room we had a kettle and a fridge so if we could find something that could be cooked via kettle then we would be well away. It wasn't to be. We thought about buying tins of baked beans but just couldn't stoop down to eating cold baked beans out of the tin. In the end we came away with milk, bread, weetabix and fruit. Our meals for the next two days. Depressing, not really a notch above cold baked beans when you think about it.

The day after was like mental torture. The weather had turned to produce a grey, windy and wet day with nothing but soggy weetabix and bananas for company. Suffice to say, it was a long day.... The next day our abstention from the hotel food broke as we were in desperate need of something that wasn't either weetabix or a crisp sandwich. We both plucked for the chicken as it looked decent on the menu. What we got was a deep fried slab of tough meat on the biggest plate of greasy chips we've ever had. We ate it of course but it really was fucking vile. The kind of food that leaves you feeling just disgusting to the core. It was, depressingly, the most expensive meal of our trip. We had to move on.




The next day we said our goodbyes to the staff and our beach bungalow and hailed a passing minibus to take us the 80kms around the island to Nadi. The frustrating thing is, being on a tight budget just doesn't work in Fiji. We had these grand visions of island hopping from one deserted paradise to another but just to get to the first island out there costs about seventy pounds for the both of us. Fiji, on our budget anyway, would be restricted to the mainland.

In the end we arrived at a little backpacker district a little bit out of town. The beach wasn't great, in fact it was pretty gruesome, but all of the hotels had a great backpacker vibe and were, compared to our last stop anyway, cheap enough so we could actually eat.

Our first stop was a place called the Aquarius where we spotted they had a two person dorm which would be much cheaper than what we'd been paying lately. Unfortunately the room was just terrible. In the middle of two store rooms on the ground floor next to the bar it was just underneath the level of a prison cell. Shell's face said it all. A mix of being petrified and wanting to be sick. To complete the feeling an Indian guy sat directly under our only window smoking and chuckling down his mobile phone for what seemed like hours. If only he knew how close shell was to wrapping my belt around his neck.




Anyway, despite that awful room we had an awesome time in this area before we left. The weather was startlingly beautiful. Clear blue skies and hot days meant that we had a good few days on the beach and in the pools. We even caught up with a few of the Swedes we had met in the Beachouse. Our tans, shell is happy to report, are well and truly back.

So, we fly to LA tonight. It's a ten hour flight which I am obviously petrified about but which shell is looking forward to! I don't know how she does it! The weird thing is we leave at 10pm on 7th June, fly for ten hours as mentioned then arrive in LA at 1pm on the 7th June. We will go back in time!

We are really looking forward to the States. The food in Fiji has been well below average and the portions so tiny. In fact a couple of nights ago we ordered the special of beef kebab skewers only to be presented with beef and veg on cocktail sticks. We are constantly hungry. America, if you can, feed us the food that makes your people so fat!!

Speak to you all in LA. Much love, Tommo and shell xxx

'Fiji' time in the Beachouse...

So we got off the plane in a very green and luscious looking Fiji to be greeted instantly by two things. The long forgotten feeling of heat and a traditional Bula band belting out traditional hits. Next up was a huge line of people queuing to have their documents checked by customs but this being Fiji things were definitely going in 'Fiji time'. It took an hour to get through customs, but at least everything was done with a smile, which kind of makes up for the lack of any kind of swiftness i suppose.

Our accomodation, The Beachouse, was on the south of the main Island Vitu Levu so we would have to take a long, slow journey by local bus. In the end it took two and a half hours but we did manage to meet three Manchester lads who helped to pass the time as well as watching a documentary on the in-bus tv about what would happen if humans disappeared. Interesting choice...

When we got to the Beachouse we were already impressed by it's size, it was a big complex that consisted of a few dormitories, a big decked pool area, beautiful beach and traditional Fijian beach bungalows, which we had. Apparently it was where they filmed 'Celebrity Love Island' which, even though I hate to admit it, can remember a tiny bit of. either way, the place was about as 'backpacker' as it is possible to get, which suited us down to the ground, I.e things were relatively cheap.

Although it was warm it certainly wasn't meltingly hot as we had expected it to be and the wind, which was pretty much blowing over the palms, was just so strong. Even so, we braved the elements to sunbathe the next day on giant hammocks tied to two cocunut trees. The beach itself, at high tide anyway, is stunning, as you can probably make out from the picture above but apparently, in terms of Fiji's beaches, it's a bit second rate (cant wait to find first rate).

It does feel strange though, both shell and I feel as though we should be moving, or at least be putting more money on the parking meter. Even sleeping as been hard. 2 months in a metal box has rendered us useless gypsies, unable to cope with the permanent world.

On our second night we were invited to the local village by a couple of the staff to meet the local rugby team and take part in a traditional Kava ceremony. Apparently the local rugby team had got through to the final of one of the islands main cup competitions where the winners would receive over 4000 Fijian dollars. Eddie, who invited us over to the village, sat us down with many other villagers on the floor of a largish community hall around a large metal dish. After some general chit-chat with very friendly locals we were passed round our first coconut cup of Kava. The liquid, rung from a tight muslin cloth created a grainy, semi thick substance that was dark grey in appearance. All in all they passed the cup around about seven times by which time the relaxing feeling and numbness of the mouth had started to take effect. They say it is mildly narcotic but we hardly felt a thing other than a feeling in the stomach that only comes with knocking back a litre of murky water. To be invited to the ceremony was a special feeling and mixed in with the general easy going nature of the locals was already a humbling experience.

A couple of days later, after me, shell and the Manchester lads ploughed through a large bottle of Bounty Rum the night before, it was the day of the big game. Feeling quietly horrific from the night before I left shell behind to recover on the beach whilst me, and five other lads made the long walk down the hill into the next village to wait for our 'minibus'. Chuta, an old guy who works at the beachouse, had been pestering us for days about booking some kind of transport to the game and after his initial whacky quote of 50 dollars each, finally settled for a more realistic 20. When we got there, we could see essentially the entire village piling laboriously into the back of what can only be described as a colourful old army truck. From past experience, especially Asian, I think we all knew what we would be getting into. The pictures in our head of an air conditioned ford transit vanished within seconds. The van itself had room for maybe 15 people but after we were literally shoved in the back i think the number was actually about 60, not to mention baskets full of food and lots and lots of children.

The journey, we were told, would take three hours. One hour along a real road to the next big town along the coast, Sigatoka, plus two hours inland along an as yet complete dirt track. The second half, as you might expect, was sheer Torture. I managed to get the best 'area' with my head stuck out of the back of the van but with a small Indian man sat in between my legs with his head faced towards my groin. He didn't seem to mind though. Even though after every bump his face crept a millimetre or two closer towards my special place.

Upon arriving, I don't think you have ever seen six lads look as pleased to see an overgrown rugby pitch. At least the locals accepted us as lucky mascots for the Blues, the village side we had come to represent.

In a scene like something from an old African tribal movie we were given seats next to the manager and players whilst the villagers, in their hundreds, stood behind specially placed ropes. The game itself was a whitewash and ended 27-5 to the Blues, the team we were supporting. They were absolutely breathtaking, lightning quick and as strong as bulls. After the winning team had been handed the cup we thought, stupidly, that we would be making the long journey back. Instead we were first walked down to a village a further mile down the road where people came out from everywhere (hedges, houses, sheds) to greet us with the now familiar bula!

We were taken into another large village hall where we were sat down whilst many different men slowly poured in to take their rightful positions cross-legged on the floor. After about half an hour of sitting in silence they started another Kava ceremony. This was more poignant as they were essentially having a post-match pint with the opposition on their patch. After a couple of rounds of Kava we were then told to go and eat with the team who had gathered over the road where women hovered around dishing out boiled cassava (like a potato) and a river fish that I can't remember the name of but which tasted like Sea Bass. It really was delicious stuff but with not a light to be seen anywhere, it could have been rotten leftovers for all we knew.

In all honesty, such levels of hospitality depressingly leave you with that Westerner thinking of 'what are they trying to get out of us?? Annoyingly that's just how it is but here strangers and tourists are treated like gifts from god and ask nothing in return from you.

If the way up there was tortuous then the journey back was just totally insane. By this point it was getting late and we wanted to get back so without hesitation they put us on the team bus. Well, this was a team that had just won one of the countries biggest rugby cups with a prize fund to be shared out equally which meant the loudest bus journey I have ever heard. The bus was packed and stopped every twenty minutes so that the team could pile out and stock up on this White spirit mixture which was in old milk cartons which they told us was 'Fijian brew', it tasted like turps.
Added to this was music so loud it made your teeth chatter even though they only had six songs. Six songs on loop for four hours! By the time they dropped us off we were twenty minutes away from going insane but despite this the lads treated us like friends and were accepted with constant high fives and yet more mentholated spirit. I know we may have moaned a little throughout the day but let's face it, these are the stories and the days in which you will always remember.

For the past few days we have been taking advantage of the beautiful weather to sunbathe on the White sand beach and making good use of the free use of kayaks and afternoon tea! It's a nice touch having afternoon tea but it's a little like watching piglets jostling for milk. Still, the tans are making a startling comeback so the shallow sides if us are content once more!

Anyway, we have another week here in Fiji before that epic journey over to LA so I think we are going to leave the beachouse to try somewhere a bit further around the coast to mix it up a little.

From the most laid back country in the world, Bula!!

Xxxx

From the Coromandel to Cape Reinga, the final NZ chapter......

So we ended up staying a couple of days in Mount Manganui, a great little beach town just to the east of Tauranga. First we had to navigate ourselves past Mothers Day where, it seemed, anyone with a heartbeat had descended into the town to quaff on cake. Whatever happened to people just staying indoors whilst their kids conjure up failed attempts at breakfast in bed?? For the next three days the weather turned increasingly nasty. If the first five or six weeks in NZ went firmly against the meteorological grain then the past week or so have been, I guess, quintessentially NZ. On Monday afternoon we headed into torrential rain and gale force winds around the bay of plenty to a place called waihi beach, a beautiful stretch of coast that unfortunately resembled, on this day anyway, childhood holidays in Swanage stuck in a dark caravan for twelve hours whilst my dad recovered from a migraine. Despite the best efforts of the weather to put a dampener on things we got a great spot in front of the crashing waves where we whiled away the hours drinking wine and playing games...oh how the real world is going to hurt. The next day we were off to do a circumnavigation of the Coromandel Peninsula, a gorgeous slice of coastline that juts out northwards east of Auckland. In the summer the population of this part of the North Island almost quadruples with an influx of tourists both domestic and foreign, but this very much being Autumn it was very quiet. Still, despite the incessant rain and battering winds we drove onwards up the west coast along a road that literally hugged the sea for 45kms where, once again, NZ's drivers proved there capability for being utter wankers (sorry mum). We decided to stay in a small place called Coromandel town which, in the daylight the day after, was a really cute little place with cool architecture inhabited by residents who wore cowboy hats and wellies. You know the type.

So onwards we went, cruising around the north of the peninsula before stopping abruptly, a few kms outside of the Coramandel's main town Whitianga at a place called Cathedral Cove. Now although NZ's tourist landmarks have been in the most part extraordinary examples of nature, some have been tediously built up for no apparent reason other than to make bystanders stop and pay for the usual tourist by-products such as ice cream or magnets. This, thankfully, wasn't one of them. Even the weather, which up until now had been horrifically bad, decided to dramatically clear to leave beautiful clear skies. The cove itself was incredible, in fact the whole area, the beach, the bay, the giant arch created by years of erosion plus a perfect waterfall that created a rainbow effect as it cascaded from the cliff-top above were all really amazing to see. Even more so due to us having the whole place to ourselves until, just as we got up to leave, a packed bus full of loud tourists got off and came traipsing down the hill. Some things just work out too well. From there we left the beautiful Coramandel to stay at a campsite literally in the middle of nowhere but which had something we would remember for a long long time. At the side of the campsite, covered by a large canvas roof was a huge thermal pool. As we were, yet again, the only people around we quickly made use of this amazing pool with one of the most spectacular night skies we have ever seen, anywhere. It was almost as if, as we lay there in 40 degree water, that a thin layer of cloud was above us intermingled in the stars but amazingly we were staring at the milky way, up there in all it's super-stellar glory, just beautiful. So on we went, yet again trailing a path northwards but this time to NZ's largest city, Auckland. In the map, on the TV, in the papers and generally among the people it is almost as if Auckland has it's own gravitational pull, dragging other towns and people into it's orbit. In reality, it feels and looks like a bigger version of Basingstoke.

After paying for a pitch at a campsite on the edge of the city run by an Indian woman who took an instant dislike to me, we were on our way into the city, via public bus! Our first impressions of Auckland's centre was that it looked about as generic as it was possible to get. I suppose it had the feeling of a smaller Melbourne just without any of the buzz. It didn't look horrible or anything just lacked the character and vibe of other cities of the same size. We spent the afternoon walking around the city centre, grabbing some coffee and sushi in the process before heading back later in the evening feeling a little bit average. As we were giving the campervan back in a few days we decided to leave Auckland behind and head north in pursuit of something more interesting. We had four days and planned to do a circumnavigation of the northland without realising, in hindsight, that this was a huge distance.

We passed some fantastic beaches on the way up and by this time, thankfully, the weather had started to change leaving a landscape that looked more South Pacific island than new Zealand. Before long we had pulled into the Bay of Islands, one of NZ's top tourist drawcards which despite the guidebook exclaiming it's overhype was absolutely stunning. Cove upon cove of deserted White sand beaches with the clearest water you could imagine. They say that 80% of the time water clarity extends ten metres or more, which is incredible if you think about it. Due to our financial situation (or lack of there of), we turned down the opportunity of a cruise but then we could see how beautiful this area was, islands included, from the shore and didn't miss out on a bloody thing. You can see why so many people come here, it was, to all intents and purposes, pure perfection.

From there we headed northwards stopping briefly at a place called Mangonui to eat quite possibly the greatest fish and chips (fosh and chops if your from New Zealand) we have ever eaten. I know I keep dishing out these superlatives (amazing, fantastic, beautiful etc) like sweets but honestly, it is all 'that good'. We shared a weird but beautifully tasting fish called a bluenose complete with traditional chips. Not gourmet by any standards but these kiwis certainly know a thing or two about fosh and chops... So all that was needed to do now was drive the 200kms to the far northern tip of the North Island, a place called Cape Reinga, a magical place where it is said Maori souls depart to the after life. It was a huge drive up there, much longer than we anticipated, but we were rewarded with the arresting sight of two bodies of water- the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean colliding together below from the elevated position atop a sheer rock face adorned by a famous lighthouse. It was the perfect place to essentially end our NZ adventure due to the sheer symmetry of visiting both the far south and far north and over 6000kms in between.

So how can we sum up our time here?? Well, we've spent 61 days in a van. 61 days where we have traversed, in most respects, the entire country. It is a country that is unspeakably beautiful, incredibly remote and populated by people that have a deep love for their country without shouting it from the rooftops. In fact its a kind of subdued patriotism where 'all blacks' flags appear not waving high from the top of a ford transit but hooked discreetly on to wooden gates in some obscure part of the country. It's also a country that never takes it self too seriously such as possum patties being sold next to an animal care clinic or condoms, lube and pleasure products sold on a supermarket display entitled 'winter relief'. In the end, we spent over two months in a van and didn't kill each other. If that isn't testament to a solid relationship then I don't know what is.

Peace and love, Tommo and shell xx

Thermal Taupo, eggtastic Rotorua and a mediocre birthday...

So at last we had made it to the centre of the North Island and it's geothermal and scientifically important centre. First up was Taupo, sat on a huge lake of the same name, the remnants of the worlds biggest volcanic eruption of the past 5,000 years. Unfortunately our luck with the weather well and truly broke here; it was awful, like a wet weekend in Runcorn. You see you can be in the most faraway, exotically sounding place in the world but unless the sun is shining and the thermometer is up, the people look miserable and everything is tinted in that off shade of grey you see most days in places like Leeds. Even so, Taupo, much like Rotorua to the north, is jam-packed full of geothermal activity and we intended to make the most of it. First up was the Craters of the Moon, a unique place that stretched for a mile or so with piping hot steam filtering out of the ground and violently boiling mud dotted around the area. It really was like being on a different planet, just one that smelt like an egg factory. Due to the incessant rain we skipped most of Taupo but did stumble upon a wicked little cafe where the owner had spent years turning the large outside space into a kind of Gaudi-esque tiled, mosaic living room. We took pictures so you can see them above.

So on we went. After a wet night in Rotorua where the van decided to leak over our heads we headed over to waka-tipu, a giant thermal wonderland complete with the famous Lady Knox geyser which, after being told by a stern official is pronounced Gii-ser rather than the often used gee-ser. It explodes everyday at 10.15, not of its own accord but by a guy pouring soap crystals down its spout! The place was staggering though, I could not do it justice by explaining other than letting you look at the photos above.

The next day we decided to get acquainted with traditional Maori culture so visited a place called by a much much longer name but shortened thankfully to waka. This village is still populated by several Maori families and lies completely on the geothermal faultline that produces so much activity. All around the village was boiling hot pools, steam and at the head of the village, two huge geysers. We started the morning by witnessing a traditional Maori dance that involved the famous Haka. I guess most people have heard of this war dance as NZ's all blacks perform it before every game, whether Maori or not. But when witnessed up close and in a traditional Maori setting it made the hairs on your neck stand up on edge. They even had an audience participation part where they looked around for a volunteer (please don't pick us, please don't pick us) and opted for Bill from Ohio to perform the Maori greeting of pressing noses together. Our guide that day was brilliant, he showed us everything from the way the village is run through a network of chiefs and tribal councils to how the village all use the geothermal pit in the middle of the village to do all of their cooking (a whole chicken steamed to perfection in ten minutes!).

So there we go, another famous part of the world ticked off and memories secure! The next day was my birthday which promised so much but unfortunately delivered so little, unless you count a lot of toilet stops. Essentially my attempt at making eggs benedict in the camper wasn't the greatest idea, nor was it a good idea to do a 9km run up mostly steep hills the day before, silly boy! Whichever it was that made me feel bad I spent most of my day on a library toilet. We then drove north to Mount Mangunui where, brilliantly, we spent the night drinking champagne in a holiday park full of empty caravans. Not exactly the birthday dreams are made of but memorable nonetheless... Anyway, just over a week now until we move on to Fiji. I think it is safe to say we are definitely starting to get excited about beaches again! Hope everyone is well and you have all put the finishing touches to your 'what we are going to do when shell and Tom return' itineraries. Much love xx

Marlborough wine tasting, windy Welly & the Art Deco streets of Napier....

Five weeks we had now been on the south island and I think we were both ready to move on, over the Cook Strait to the North Island. Before that though we had one last thing we needed to do, wine tasting!

We had been looking forward to this for a very long time, not least due to shells fascination (I want to say addiction- just not in the AA sense) with Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc.

We booked ourselves into a great little backpackers that let us park our campervan so we could still sleep in it which made it much cheaper. The guys that ran it, a lovely old couple, were like a long lost aunty and uncle. They called us by our first names and told us to be careful as we sped off on our bicycles in search of our first wineries.

There are over thirty wineries in the area so unfortunately we could only visit a handful of them but as we were later to find out, that would be more than enough.

So we left in the morning after one of the coldest nights I can remember and off into the vines, sliding effortlessly along perfectly flat roads until we reached our first cellar door, Cloudy Bay. The place was simply immaculate, decked out in mock Mediterranean paraphernalia. To be fair, they were all stunning so it would be a bit boring to explain them all to you but let's just say this, we had a staggering day, literally.

I think our favourites were Allan Scott and Giesen but we learnt so much that day from all of the wineries that simply drinking a glass of wine will never be the same again. For instance, the location of the wineries is paramount to the taste that you want to acquire. Riverside vineries will acquire a fuller-bodied wine due to the clay content of the soil whereas Coastal wineries will be cleaner with a slight metallic taste due to the mineral deposits found next to the coast. And so on and so forth...we learnt so much and spoke to so many different people that if you'd asked us at that point to drop our respective careers and head into winemaking, we'd have chewed your arm off.

The day after, feeling pretty awful after drinking wine for ten hours straight we headed around the glorious Marlborough Sounds, a maze of unspeakably beautiful little coves and beaches which, in the glorious sunshine, looked more than perfect. It would be the perfect antidote to what we had coming the next day, the famously rough Cook Strait crossing from South to North islands.

It was awful. No matter where we sat or stood on the boat it really didn't matter, the huge ferry rocked violently from side to side. To be fair, the first hour of the journey was just beautiful as we wound our way around the serene Queen Charlotte Sound, part of the incredible Marlborough Sounds.

After three hours we finally arrived on the North Island and into NZ's famously windy capital, Wellington. Thankfully for us it wasn't too windy but instead was bloody freezing! It was sunny and clear but so cold, like one of those crisp winter days we sometimes get back home. Anyway, we stayed in Welly for a couple of nights as it was a cool little city. It had a really interesting waterfront where the huge national museum, Te Papa sat and also a few microbreweries serving really delicious beer. Welly itself had some wicked little places to eat including tonnes of little Asain noodle houses where we ate really cheaply (for NZ) on roti chennai (that amazing Malaysian concept we ate every morning in Kuala Lumpur), spicy Hokkien noodles and spring rolls.

It was almost like a much smaller version of Manhatten in a way. The whole city, despite it's small size, just seemed to have a really nice feel about it. A really interesting place full of weird architecture, strange people and awesome food. Not a bad place to spend a couple of cold days in.

Anyway, from there we faced a five hour drive, cross country to the east coast through what can only be described as a part of the world that has absolutely nothing to offer. If we thought, as we do in the UK, that we are the only country in the world to suffer from a shite culture of fast food joints and aggressive looking youngsters in stupid looking cars then, if this area has anything to go by, we would be gladly mistaken. New Zealand is fantastic, don't get me wrong, but just like Australia you can't help but feel that when you leave the main cities and drive through the small towns, you are looking at people who still collect gollywogs.

For the next few days we spent our time in Hastings and Napier, two pretty towns sat along Hawkes Bay, a huge sweeping bay that resembles, to me anyway, a big bite of an apple.

We stayed a night in Hastings, but only to pay a visit to it's local farmers market, one of NZ's most famous. It was, as markets go, up there with the best of them. We bought some amazing bread and stocked up on fresh veg and tried a plethora of foods such as black pudding, sausage, houmous, Turkish bread, all locally produced in the region. You see, the greatest thing about these markets is that the people who attend them seem to take them more seriously. This in turn helps the Market to shed the novelty factor and in doing so brings down the prices. Which is the reason these markets should operate in the first place, to bring fresh and interesting produce to the general public, at affordable prices.

Up next was Napier, a town obliterated in the 30s by an earthquake and rebuilt in the art deco style of the day. amazingly, due to superb planning and conservation, every single building still remains to make the biggest concentration of art deco buildings in the world. It's fantastic to be around, it almost makes you want to walk around with a swagger and a tommy gun.

Hawkes bay is also a hugely successful wine producing area and Napier, being it's centre, provided us with yet more opportunity to divulge! It was here where we got the opportunity to do an interactive wine tasting. We had to pick from White or red, we chose White, and got ushered into a room that resembled a small theatre. In front of us was six White wines which, when the film started to play, all became apparent. We were essentially flown around six different wine producers who told us all about their wines whilst we drank. Amazing! Next up, was a tour around the aroma room. Essentially, every different kind of aroma you could acquire from a wine. From citrus to stone fruits, toast to leather. They even had soil and horse to represent which smell you would associate with an off wine. It really was fantastic stuff.

We spent two days in sunny Napier, taking in the town and planning our last month and a half on the road. It's a fair old distance to most places in NZ but if you ever get the chance, go to Napier, you will not be disappointed.

As for us, we are both really well. Looking forward to our last couple of weeks here and exploring the geothermal wonderlands!

Hope some of you are still reading on, we'll be doing tests when we return...

Much love. Tommo and shell xxxx