Singapore: 29Feb – 3Mar 12

I flew from Perth at 4pm and arrived in Singapore at 10pm with Singapore airlines, which isn’t on the budget side of things. We got dinner and movies, oh what a treat after flying the last four flights budget. Although I should remember to take socks next time I fly as they always air condition the heck out of airplanes and I end up shivering in flip flops and no jumper. But on this I got a blanky, woo. I watched the latest Twilight movie, yes I love them judge me as you will, and got some food so all in all it was a good flight, and the air hostesses wore these cute outfits...

Coming in to land and getting the first view of Singapore was really exciting, it was all so new and foreign to me. I saw masses of skyscrapers and apartments and everything was bright and densely packed. We flew over the harbour and the bridges, all brilliantly lit up. I’ve also never ever seen so many boats and ships! There were literally hundreds of them, all lit up like Christmas on steroids.  

I had booked a hostel in the main backpacker area, Little India. There were trains and busses but since it was 10pm I thought I’d splash out on a taxi as it’s not that fun to mess about with public transport late at night in a new and strange place, although there is a train that goes straight from the airport into town so I that was a little lazy on my part.  The taxi cost around £10 and had the air conditioner set to icy. Singapore is an easy place to visit because everything is in English, and there is no scamming or confusion going on with public transport. It’s run by strict rules so for a tourist it couldn’t be safer. The driving was manic and hair raising as I was told to expect, with the driver changing lanes at super fast whim with no hint of indicating and driving within an inch of the bumper in front at 80mph, so I kept my nosed pressed to the glass and on the totally new and exciting scenery around me. The air was hot and humid and really does hit you like a wall when you come out the airport, plants and trees and shrubs and vines were bursting out of every possible space, and everything was in bright Technicolor. This was the most foreign place I had been and I was properly excited. 

The driver set me down on Dunlop St in Little India where the shops and bars were still open and bustling. It wasn’t hard to find my hostel, The Prince of Wales. I honestly had no idea what to expect from hostels in Singapore at all, so everything about this place would be a new experience. The hostel was above the Prince of Wales bar and the reception was the bar counter. There were a couple of Singaporeans playing 90’s type grunge with their guitars on a small stage in the corner. The guy behind the counter took my details and then showed me through the bar, out the back door and right there at the back entrance to the bar were the bathrooms with showers (unisex, just what everyone wants. Not). So if someone strained their neck while supping a pint they could catch you in your towel brushing your teeth. It was more like an outhouse too with a plastic not-very-solid roof over the bathroom area.

He took me up the stairs into the dorm which was just one long room with about 22 bunk beds in it, with sections partitioned off. You kept your stuff on shelves along the wall, and then there were lockers, couches and internet on the near side of the room. The ceiling was covered in whizzing fans but it was still pretty darn warm and muggy in there. I dropped my bags, grabbed a locker for the valuables and set out to have a look around the area. All the shops were still open even though it was around 11pm. The pavements are like obstacle courses, uneven with storm drains, stairs, people, chairs and shop wares all piled on them so you pretty much have to walk in the street. There were loads of shops selling cheap electronic accessories, veggie stalls and internet cafes. Little India,  according to the guidebook feels like being in Mumbai, although I’m sure much more serene and organised than that huge crazy Indian city. I walked all around the block and then came back to have a cold Corona from the hostel bar (quite expensive, SG$10 which is around £5) and sat on the tables outside to watch the passersby. When I got back upstairs there were a few more passed out bodies in the room so I turned out some lights, put in my earplugs and fell into a pretty good if not hot and muggy sleep.

The next morning I came downstairs for the free breakfast which was served outside and was hit with some pretty interesting smells. It’s so hot that the contents of the bins outside were starting to rot, and someone was frying egg on the outside griddle with some really old oil which smelt like old socks rubbed with blue cheese being fried. But you can’t turn down free breakfasts while backpacking! So I had blocked my nose and had some toast and egg and fruit.

I got a map with some good walking itineraries for Singapore and found one for little India and set out to explore. I went through the streets full of people and shops and food. I found a couple of temples, the famous department store that ‘had over 150,000 products on sale’ but mainly to get some air conditioned air after the sweltering heat outside, Indian markets selling all kinds of plastic junk, clothes ‘made in China’, flip flops, saris, bindis, incense, sunglasses, religious gold statues and fake strings of flowers. This wasn’t the pristine, clean, rich Singapore I had heard about but I liked it.

 I was walking under the canopy of the market when I had my very first taste of the monsoon rain. All of a sudden the sky opened and buckets and rivers of water fell out the sky, with everyone ducking for cover and then placidly watching it pass. There were claps of thunder and cracks of lighting and then more sheets of fat rain, all very exciting for me! The only problem was, I found that the whole of Singapore is covered in pavements of tiles. Tiles, water and flip flops (or any kind of shoes for that matter) just do not go and I went slipping and sliding all over the place, and had to walk really slowly and carefully. I found a nice air conditioned vegetarian restaurant and had some ice tea and ate vegetable tandoori, which was a skewer with tofu, green pepper, potato, tomato and pineapple covered in yummy curry paste and then grilled. It came to around £6.

I walked gingerly back to the hostel through the slippery streets, and watched the rain go down from under the canopy in the hostel beer garden. It’s so funny it’s as if they’ve chosen the most slippery surface possible to pave the streets – smooth tiles. I grabbed an umbrella from the hostel and set off to the Arab quarter which was right next to Little India. There is a huge old mosque there and some bustling streets selling Arabic wares, including some coffee shops with people smoking hookah pipes. It’s great that within 20 min walk of each other lie two totally different, heavily cultural communities. Variety and tolerance is so good for a city. I had some coffee in the Arab quarter, bought a bag and found a tiny retro toy shop, where the owner had recreated a 1950’s soda pop stand which didn’t really go with the Arabic scene but was cool anyway.

I walked back to the hostel again feeling happy about seeing two really vibrant parts of Singpore. I was going to stay with an old friend from school and her boyfriend that night who are living are there, but that was only at 9pm and it was 5pm now. So I thought I’d squeeze in one more site this part of town, Orchard Road. I made my way through the underground (huge underground system, easy to navigate with air conditioned trains, the single tickets are around £1.70) and came out at Orchard Road station, where it was still raining and the pavements were now lined with smooth glass sprayed with soap. Okay not really, but they did have some paving stones in smooth glass like tiles! What the heck, watch out for broken necks in Singapore everyone!

Orchard Road is the famous shopping street of Singapore, and the shiny wealthy oppressiveness of it is overwhelming. As I came out the station, I was hit with huge glass malls and towering swirling glass centrepieces. Dior, Gucci, Chanel, Giorgio Armani, Louis Vuitton... you name it. There were dressed to the hilt doormen standing at entrance, presumably to stop muddy footed, ripped jeaned, wild haired budget travellers like me through the door. Not as if I’d ever want to go in! I just wanted to look and ponder over the weirdness of it all. 

I walked up and down gawking at all the opulence and then realised that I was ravenously hungry. I spotted across the way some shops in the basement of one of the big malls, and found my way over and then inside. This wasn’t the wealth of the outside but a proper Asian market/mall. I found a food court inside and had Vietnamese dumpling soup which really hit the spot. Food is wonderful, it can take you from grumpy tired and achy to bright-eyed and bushy tailed with a simple restocking of the stomach. Even though I felt restored, I had had enough of the spending-on-needless-overpriced-crap glint in everyone’s eyes, and made my way back to the hostel to pick up my things and meet Su in Greyling, about a 20 minute train ride away.

I came out of the station near the house with all my bags and a hand drawn map of how to get there. The streets are huge and are sometimes two streets going opposite ways but named the same thing. So I had a bit of a time trying to find which direction I was walking in, but got to the Vietnamese on the corner by their flat eventually. This was more of the South London-esque part of Singapore, where if you want to afford to live in a nicer flat you need to go out of the posh city. I liked the area, there was everything you needed and it had a good atmosphere. We dropped my stuff off and went out for some beers down the road. Two huge Cobra beers were only £5 so it was quite cheap. We chatted the night away and got pretty tipsy, and just to get more into the vibe some nice rats poked their heads out the bins to say hello. It was really nice to see Su after so many years, we went to Lady Grey Arts Academy near Lesotho South Africa, and it had been a good 11 years since we saw each other last. We stumbled home cheerfully drunk, although I felt tinge of guilt as they both had to work the next day and it was quite late.

It was bliss to wake up in their flat in a double bed in my own air conditioned room. I slept in, did some writing and then set out for some more city wandering, and within two seconds was drenched to the skin in another massive downpour. I stayed under the canopy of a shop for about 40 min with a group of rowdy school kids since I had no umbrella and waited. Finally it let up enough for me to run to the underground. I did something really annoying though and left my wifi enabled phone at home, and as I couldn’t connect at Su’s place I was going to find a coffee shop and mail my friend Bulweya from my high school who was also living there. I found some wifi coffee shops but none that had a computer too, so I couldn’t mail or call! Argh, what a silly girl. So I wandered around the Civic centre looking at all the colonial buildings, and then to the Marina which is Singapore in its full force of glory. Huge glittering skyscrapers and banks, everything smooth cool grey slate and dark marble (still slippery as anything, although no broken neck yet) and big ornate bridges and hotels with parks and a lake, and then a huge centrepiece of a building on the opposite bank. It was like something out of the future, a big glistening spaceship in world where there are no poor or dirty people.

I wandered around until it became dark and I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was getting gently soaked through and so went back to Su’s house only getting moderately lost on the huge intersection by her house. 

We went to the supermarket near her house to get some things for dinner, and I got really excited at all the new and exotic fruit they had there. Tiny fun-sized bananas, star fruit which is shaped like a star when you cut in slices; dragon fruit which is bright pink with green wings on the outside and then white with black dots on the inside and mango’s that looked like lemons. We added apples, oranges and papaya to the mix and made the most heavenly and colourful fruit salad. Everything was ripe, sweet and juicy. We then got some Vietnamese from their local on the corner and had a delicious dinner, drank icy white wine and reminisced till the early hours.

The next day I was leaving to Malaysian Borneo. I ate some ripe avocados with lemon, pepper and salt and some seriously yummy papaya and mango which will kill any hangover I can assure. I could live on a diet like that forever. Su and I took a taxi to East Coast Park and had some lunch and a wander down the beach where families and rollerblading teenagers were out in force it being a Sunday.

I kind of feel for Singaporeans, as there isn’t much to do with themselves beside go to malls. Su told me even the poorer people do this, probably because they are air conditioned and nice to look at. It’s too hot to do much outside activity, and it’s so built up that there isn’t space to do that anyway. There was a small strip of beach on this park but other than that the only other beach was for the posh crowd where you had to hire a ‘platform’ or buy expensive drinks. There are islands and parks dotted around but mostly it’s massively built up and a city for the wealthy. Foreigners seem to get comparatively to home, much higher salaries, and I think they pay hardly any tax so it’s a good place to be for a while if you want to earn some serious mulah.

I jumped in a taxi for another nail-biting ride to the airport. Time for the jungle...

Here are all the photos.

Australia: Perth 23-29 Feb 12

I flew with Virgin Australia airlines from Melbourne to Perth at 8.30am, it was a three hour forty min flight but I arrived at 9.40 so lost 3 hours of time. It’s good to be getting closer to GMT so it doesn’t feel like you’re so totally opposite to connecting with anyone from home. We flew across a lot of dry and red land, and then lots of sea and then some more red dry land. I would really have loved to explore the outback and countryside a bit more, maybe on another trip.

My cousin Jessica and my Uncle Pete came to fetch me from the airport. I was expecting, after all the many warnings I had about sweltering heat, to come out and be hit by a wall of 40 degrees, but actually it was an easy 26 or so. I had brought the cool weather to Perth, like I had brought the sun to Sydney after a cool wet summer.

My family in Perth includes: My mom’s sister Colleen, her husband Paul and their four children Theresa (now living in Canada), Michelle, Mark and Geoff who are between around 38 and 26. My mom’s sister Ronnie, her husband Pete and their four children – Jessica, Camaryn, Joshua and Olivia who are between 28 and 22. Then there’s my mom’s brother Joe and his wife Nibby and their five children – James, Mathew, Lucy, Rachel, Mary who are between 24 and 16. Mark is married to Di and they have five children I think all under 6 years. Colleen and family I think immigrated twenty or more years ago, and Joe and Ronnie followed around twelve years ago, all from either Zimbabwe or South Africa. So basically I hadn’t seen my cousins for a very long time! Although we try keep up with news as much as possible, and now Facebook has really helped a dispersed and insanely huge family like ours keep in contact. About three years ago my Granny (my mother’s mom) came to live in Perth with her children there, so I was really looking forward to spending some time with her. She is around 84.

Granny Maisie

Perth is one of the most isolated cities in the world. It takes over five hours to fly there from Sydney, and almost four to fly from Melbourne. It’s almost three thousand km from Adelaide and four thousand km to Darwin. The UK can fit into Western Australia alone 10.4 times! Seriously.

All the family live conveniently near each other around Joondalup in North Perth. My lovely cousins Jess, Lily and Cammy entertained me and spoilt me by just being generally sweet and generous, thank you so much girls! The three of us went to an art gallery on Saturday and had some yum coffee with ice-cream at their favourite coffee place. Lily and her boyfriend Lenny took me to the boardwalk near their house for some ice-creams when I just arrived, we spent a Saturday night having pizza and wine and tried to see kangaroos in the local park, had a brisk walk along the beach and Cammy even took a day off on Monday to take me around Perth. We went to King’s Park and looked at the view over the city, hired bikes and rode around the river and saw some black swans and just had a generally lovely sunny day.

View from Kings Park over Perth

Black Swans

I spent some time at Joe and Nibby’s house with their sweeter than sweet kids, completely relaxing and restoring my energy. James, Mathew, Rachel and I went to a beach nearby where the boys boogie boarded and Rachel and I waded into the really warm water and tried to soak up some sun. I went to visit Mark and Di and their amazingly cute brood of five and had a good catch up and chat, while the sweeties read and played contentedly and Mark showed me their big heaven-for-a-child garden with tree-houses and chickens.

I spent some time with granny playing my ukulele. Granny has a song book that she’s had for years (although this was a newer version) where she had written out all her favourite songs and the guitar chords. I have no idea how she remembers which chords go where as she doesn’t play herself, although she obsessively loves music and will stop any conversation to listen even if someone is just idly plucking guitar strings, and she’ll sing the harmony or correct the person if they’re playing it wrong. I believe that the love of music in our very musical family comes directly from granny Maisie herself. She wrote some travelling type songs down in my own song book like The Happy Wanderer, Blowing in the Wind and, all family members will know the most important one of all, A Hundred Miles. I had such a nice time learning the songs while she sang harmony’s (which she calls descants) in her ever croakier sweet granny voice. A few of the chords were wrong in her book although she would never own it! 

Granny writing chords in my book

We also had a Sunday get together at Ronnie and Pete's and I made roast lamb and caught up with Aunty Colleen, Uncle Paul and Geoff.

Jess, Lily and Cam were going to watch Roxette (isn’t that a huge fat blast from the past?) and my extremely cute and generous Uncle Pete and Aunty Ronnie bought me a ticket so I could go with them. We had some Mexican food before hand and met at Cammy’s house in town to get dolled up, and then packed into her friends car and we drove there listening to the greatest hits and singing at the top of our lungs. They were playing in a stadium with old school pop concert lighting and backdrops. The girl in Roxette had a brain tumour which she had been fighting for years, but now is better which is why they’re touring. There were mainly chicks there over 30, we seemed like the youngest group there by miles. We danced and sang and jumped around to their set which was mainly old songs, and they chucked in a few old ballads too. It was retro fun to
the max!

Retro max - Roxette

To me Perth seems a really nice relaxing place to live and bring up kids, although recently it’s become one of the most expensive places to live in Australia. From what I can gather this is because of all the mines a few hours down the road mining iron ore... people are highly paid there and then want to come spend it in Perth, pushing property prices etc up. It’s a city that doesn’t seem to have any kind of tug in any direction though. The trains run on time and are air conditioned and streamlined (although there is no train between the airport and the city which is seriously backward), the city has everything you’d expect from one and there are universities and schools, parks and museums. If I was to give Perth a colour it would be Magnolia. Perfectly acceptable and easy on the eye, it won’t offend anyone and isn’t outstanding or memorable, but everyone is happy with it in the background. What I found strange about Australia was that I only saw one, yes a solitary and singular Aboriginal person in Sydney airport. Otherwise I didn't see any others, at all. I found it really strange and also found that this is something that Australians in general don't really like to discuss either. I also saw hardly any animals at all which I'm sad about, besides the kangaroos scuttling away from the train from Sydney. This was probably because I was in the cities, but I just expected to see a little more wildlife and for it to feel a little more wild than it did, but actually the cities and small bits of countryside that I did see felt a bit sterile. Although, there were tons of spiders by the beach that I went to with Hanneke and Steve in Sydney, which we had to duck under when walking along the path. 

Thanks to all my family for being so generous and cute and giving me a seriously lovely week! Now off I go to Singapore, for my first taste of steamy Asia.

Here are all the photos.

Australia: Melbourne 20-23 Feb 12

I had originally planned to take the eleven hour train trip to Melbourne from Sydney during the day so I could see a bit of the countryside, but I wanted one more day to wander around in Sydney so I changed it to an overnight train instead. It made more sense, sleep on the train and wake up in Melbourne, and also save on a night’s accommodation. The train left from Central Station in Sydney, and it pulled away on time at 8.40pm. It wasn't full so I had two seats to myself, and even though now and again it would stop at a station and pick more people up no one sat next to me. Possibly because of the puddle of drool that was forming on that spare seat from my flopping about head. Man, I was totally out! I had some sandwiches I had made for dinner, wrote for about 30mins and then took a sleeping pill to make sure I conked out, and boy did I. I woke up about 45mins outside Melbourne as the sun was coming up, just in time to see some kangaroos scuttling away from a fence as the train swooshed past them. And then, into the big old depot station that is Melbourne.

I had high expectations of Melbourne as I heard from so many people how great it is, which isn’t so good as then it’s always a tough act to follow. The train station was big and busy, I got there in the morning rush hour all blinky and confused while office workers streamed past me like salmon. I found a map and saw that my hostel was on the same road as the station... no sweat. So I set off in what I thought was the right direction and walked about 50 miles up the road to find that the numbers weren’t chronological in any way whatsoever, just a bit of fun for the tourists. Eventually after walking up and down for an hour I called the hostel and found that I had passed it twenty times already, it just wasn’t numbered or signposted. Sigh. I was staying in Nomads All Nations on Spencer Street, and in case you ever go to Melbourne and are looking for a hostel, this is one to avoid. It’s big, dirty, and impersonal and it has really annoying sarcastic signs everywhere making you feel like an unwanted guest. In the kitchen ‘Basically, your mom doesn’t live here, so wash your dishes.’ In the communal area ‘Smile, you’re on camera. We are watching you and will evict naughty backpackers’.

I had a shower and set off to find the free tourist bus that takes tourists around the city, I think that’s a really nice touch for them to offer that. This was the first time that I’d actually seen the scale of an Australian city... I didn’t find that in Sydney at all as it’s really compact and walkable and quite European like that, but in Melbourne the streets stretched for miles and are set out on more of a grid so it didn’t make as interesting walking. I found the bus at Flinders Station and as far as I can tell that is the focal point of the city. Although rather than having one main focal point there seemed to be a few notable buildings or landmarks dotted all around miles apart but no one heart of the city. The bus did a big loop round to some of the museums, markets and then to the waterfront or docklands where they had just built some new flat’s and shops and it was pretty ugly and grey. Why on earth would a tourist want to stop there? But a few people got off anyway. I came to the conclusion that Melbourne unfortunately is not the prettiest place, but maybe I was marred by Sydney.

I swiftly booked a room on the other side of town in a different hostel for the next night called The Mansion near Brunswick Street, which was loads better than the CBD downtown. (I made a mental note to always research hostels even if it’s just a tiny bit, it’s so worth it as they’re so different and it could make or break or stay in a place.) Then I set off on a tram (don’t you just love trams?) to St Kilda which was the cute beach-y part. There’s a mad old amusement park there called Luna Park but unfortunately it wasn’t open. 

I had a wander down Acland street which had some great quirky coffee places, bakeries and shops and alternative bars. I went in one which had tons of posters on the walls of events going on in Melbourne and there were quite a few. I've heard it been called the cultural capital of the South and is the place to be if you are interested in music, arts, theatre etc. There were things like open air cinemas, lots of gigs and shows, exhibitions on the beach etc. Even though I didn't have enough time to go see anything it was good to see what was happening.

After that I took a tram all the way up to the other side of town, Sydney Road in Brunswick. A friend of Bex who I met at the wedding in NZ, Amy, lived in Melbourne and gave me some tips on what to see which is why I knew where to look, so darn invaluable to a stranger in a city. This was another happening suburb, kind of like Hackney in a London – a beat up area attracting hipsters. 

I was hoping to find somewhere to eat but could only find an Irish Pub and KFC, and by this time it was 8pm and I was feeling pretty knackered so I just went on back to the hostel and helped myself to some of their free dry pasta (the only nice thing that the hostel did) which I made up with some pesto and parmesan. To get a pot to cook with you had to hand in your passport at the reception and they didn’t give it back until you brought the pot back washed. ?!?. Obviously all travellers should be treated as delinquent thieves according to this Nomad hostel.

The next morning I was out of there like a shot to Home @ The Mansion Hostel which I booked the day before. The difference was so complete I felt like laughing when I got there. (Exactly the same price I should add). A big beautiful old building that had been converted recently to a hostel near Victoria Market and Brunswick Street. As soon as I walked in a felt cooled down and relaxed, as the really friendly person on reception showed me around with a big smile. Our room had huge windows with stained glass, lockers and fans and a big bathroom right next door, bliss. There was a TV room and an outside shaded area with tables and barbecues and that night they were offering free cheese and wine to all guests, who were all happy as Larry and super friendly. Definitely recommend this place!

Home @ The Mansion - Google pic

I sat down in the garden and thought to myself, this is a really excellent time to get the tattoo that I’ve wanted to get for ages. So I texted Amy and she gave me a list of good tattoo parlours, which I researched and found that one of the best in Melbourne was only around the corner from where I was sitting. So I took my design, found the place and asked if they had any time that day and guess what, they did! I go with my gut feelings about places and the one I had for Tattoo Magic was good, so in I went and I was out only 30 minutes later. The artist who did it was Sean Jackson. One of the easiest breeziest things I’ve ever done and I’m pretty happy with it, I’ll put a pic up once they’re healed.

I went back to the hostel and played my ukulele a bit in the garden and chatted with some backpackers, and then set off to meet Amy and her boyfriend Steve at the Queen Victoria Night Market just down the road. It was seriously bustling with loads of stalls and food and music, and it felt like I could have been in London or Berlin. People even dressed London style, really this was like being in Europe in summer and I had to keep reminding myself that I was in Australia, very far away. We had some very yum Sangria and found a stall making South American barbecue. It was thick cuts of steak on a skewer with salad and grilled pineapple and tangy lemon dressing and was seriously one of the most delicious things I’ve eaten on this trip. Then we bought some fudge, I got tiramisu flavour and spent some time chatting to some of their friends that they had bumped into until it was time to go. 

Victoria night market - Google pic

I really loved the atmosphere of the night market and I could see why people loved Melbourne for its culture.

The next morning I woke up early and got a shuttle that the hostel organised to the airport which was miles away but only cost £11, although I was the only one in it. It was an extremely fast and hair-raising drive though; the driver rode up to within an inch of every bumper until they moved over.

Very happy to be going to Perth to visit family, some I haven’t seen in 18 years!


Here are all the photos of Melbourne and Perth.

Australia: Sydney 16 – 20 Feb 12

I waved Bex goodbye at the airport feeling sad that it would be a while before I saw the cutie Macfie’s again. But I was on my way to Australia, and nothing lifts my spirits more than going on to a new place.

I flew with Air New Zealand who are pretty swish. It was a three and a half hour flight, and they had TV’s on each seat and slick black chairs. The stewards were brisk and efficient and almost completely silent, none of the unnecessary babble that goes on over intercoms on this flight. You ordered food from your little media screen and paid for it via credit card, and then they bring it to you silently and glide off. The really weird thing is that the safety video was done in a comedic, glary style with some weird garish American fitness instructor guy and some NZ celebs and sportsmen. It was supposed to be hilarious and upbeat but didn’t go at all with the airline’s appearance of silence and slickness, and when it turned off everyone looked at each other thinking, ‘What the heck was that?’ We glided into Sydney and the plane did so many turns it felt like we were going round in spirals. When the plane did eventually come down to land it looked as if it was going to land straight in the sea. I kept on expecting to see the runway or some land appear but it didn’t until the extreme last second, as the plane touched down. The runway started where the sea ended, pretty hair raising!

I was really looking forward to Australia for these reasons. 1: to see family who I haven’t seen in yonks 2: to get some of the most serious sunshine on earth and 3: to see what all the fuss was about. I heard it was hot, expensive and that Sydney was London on the sea. Also HUGE, friendly and with some of the harshest and intense wilderness in the world. I arrived at Sydney airport and was very happy to step out into brilliant hot sunshine. I found some maps in the airport and the train to the city and hopped on, everything easy and with absolutely no hint of culture shock. It was as English as you could get, even the train systems. Except the trains are double decker and air conditioned. I was heading for Circular Quay to meet Steve as he finished work Thursday (I was going to stay with my cousin Hanneke and her husband Steve for three nights).  I had my map out and a woman leant over and tapped me on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude but...’ here we go, what have I done now ‘do you know where you’re going, can I help at all?’ Now that is friendly, and most probably would not ever happen in London. One stereotype (friendliness) ticked before I even got into town!

I got to Circular Quay in about 15 minutes, and walked out into the harbour. The sun was blazing and I was met by some aboriginal painted buskers playing didgeridoos over trance music. Haha, love it. Now if you’ve ever seen Sydney harbour you’ll know what I mean when I say that this has to be in the top 5 best centrepieces for a city. (Table Mountain in Cape Town makes that list). It was awesome. Ferry boats, sail boats and a gargantuan cruise liner nestled into the quay. I walked along the harbour a bit and was struck by the immense and beautiful harbour bridge. It’s massive! And then a little way along the opera house - all bobbing on beautiful blue water and surrounded on the right by a botanical garden with eye popping green grass and trees, the shiny skyscrapers of the city behind and a crisp blue sky with big warm orange sun to top it off. Everyone looked impossibly tanned and beautiful waiting for the ferries to take them home from work. It was like being in an 80’s romantic comedy... men with the office shirts open, sunglasses, girls with long tanned legs and all with white teeth and an expression that said ‘Go back London? I don’t think so’. I didn’t hear one Australian accent though... they were ninety percent British, with a splash of Asian.

I waited for Steve by ferry terminal 3, so we could go back to Manly where they live. As I hadn’t read up on Sydney at all before I got there, I didn’t realise that we were going to do one of the top 10 things to do in Sydney; which is take the ferry to Manly and one of Sydney’s most popular Northern beaches. As the ferry pulled out of the Quay, Steve seated us strategically so I could get the full postcard view of Sydney harbour. The majestic bridge dominated the skyline to the right, the crisp shiny skyscrapers rose up in front and the harbour Opera House beamed at us from its white spheres on the left. The sunshine and intense Southern hemisphere light makes all the colours absolutely POP. Blues, greens, silvers. This is one view that isn’t better on a postcard, as is sometimes the case with some famous sites made look better and bigger than they really are in pictures. The ferry was 30 minutes, and Steve took this to work and back almost every day... lucky bugger!

Hanneke was waiting in a seaside restaurant with their 4 year old Micah and 2 year old Toby, and they were waving as we came walking from the ferry, shouting ‘there’s daddy!!!’ so excitedly. Man they are so cute. We had some seafood pizza, cold beers and chips for dinner. Then we walked along the seafront where the boats were docked, with the little boys steaming ahead on the sand. Manly is a very beachy, idealic Sydney suburb, with everyone looking pretty pleased with themselves it being a warm sunny Thursday eve. As they should be, I would.

Steve took Friday off so we woke up and went for a drive to another small beach in Manly, one of the their favourites. You drive up a hill and park, and then walk down to a secluded beach where you can also snorkel. Steve had some snorkels and we just went right in to the inviting sea. It was rocky along the sides and got deep pretty quickly, and right there on that beach in the middle of Manly were so many fish! Lots of different types, and apparently you can see sharks there too. I can’t remember the names but there were little bright blue ones, stripy blue ones, big old codgers, flat ones, you name it! And swimming right up to the shore where everyone was taking a dip. I tried to kiss the huge old blue codger (not its scientific name) for Steve to take a pic with my underwater camera, but I haven’t perfected the art of diving deep with a snorkel yet so I didn’t quite make it, and it gave me a dirty look and sauntered off. It was a beautiful sunny day, and some kids from the local school arrived for their surf class, how awesome would it be to go surfing during PE? On the way home we stopped off at the local fishmongers and I’ve never seen such an amazing and colourful variety of fish for sale, and it could not get fresher. Huge prawns, calamari, salmon, huge crab...just anything and everything. And more than likely fished out the sea that morning. When we got home Steve barbecued us the juiciest king prawns with lemon and a huge salmon, and we had some ice cold white wine to top it off. I was the most happy and spoilt person in the world! Everywhere you go in Sydney, public beaches and parks, they have big slick barbecues for anyone to just come and use whenever. And they get cleaned too. So if you fancy having your freshly caught fish dinner down the beach you just grab your basket and beverages, text your mates and meet at sunset for a beach barbecue. Now isn’t that civilized?

Steve showing off seafood culinary skills

Hanneke with her cute bump (number 3)

There happened to be the world surf championships in Manly that weekend, so early Saturday morning we set off with the boys to the beach to see if we could catch any of the action. There was also a skateboarding competition going on, so they built a huge bowl on the beach and we were hoping to watch some warm up sessions before the main competition started. We got to the beach at around 8.30am but it was already busy. The surf was pretty flat sadly, but they were still getting out there. Stands and umbrellas had been set up on the beach so we plonked ourselves under one and had our toast and vegemite for breakfast, waiting for the skateboarding bowl to open. Fine with me, another sun worship session and early mornings are my favourite. The sun here is amazing, you literally only need 10 minutes of it and you feel warmed and vitamin D’d up to your eyeballs.

Toby 2, Micah 4 and Farigo 0

The beach was filling up with supermodels and strapping surfers. Being on Manly beach during a surf competition is very easy on the eye, since every single beautiful tanned ripped body for a 25 mile radius happens to be there too wearing very little. If you have self esteem issues I wouldn't recommend it, like if you ate a massive creamy pasta the night before and were feeling bloated or something, I’d steer clear!

As soon as the surf bowl opened Steve and I ran with the boys to get in as people queued all day to watch the competition in action. This was totally awesome, a huge elevated bowl with stands also overlooking the sea and surf competition. This was a serious teenage fantasy; I loved skateboarders and spent many an idle hour hanging out with the skater boys in town watching tricks and being a skater chick cling on. We watched the warm ups, with some kids as young as 6 dropping into the massive bowl. You could tell when the older professionals went in though, going super fast doing high jumps and all totally fearless. It got searing hot pretty quickly up on those stands, I feel for the people who sat there all day.

I managed to connect with an old friend from South Africa who happened to be Djing in Manly that night which was perfect as I really wanted to see what was going down in Manly during a world class surf competition. He lived in Dee Why up the road, but Dj’ed at this bar on the weekends. The Sylvester’s very kindly lent me their car as the busses seemed pretty scarce on a Saturday eve up their side of town. I was going to drive to a car park just outside the centre and then take a more frequent bus in, but when I got to the car park the next bus was only in half an hour so I just drove all the way. I was warned that traffic and parking would be intensely chaotic that night but I just had a go and found one near the bar. There were a few glammed-up-to-the-hilt-soon-to-be-falling-in-the-gutter Saturday night tragics milling about, but nothing I couldn’t handle having experienced and survived the same scenes in England in a more extreme way. My friend Jay was playing some down tempo beats in a cute little boutique bar on the side of town where people were sipping interesting cocktails and talking in a normal volume. I popped in to say hi and to have a yummy passion fruit concoction, and then headed out to see what Manly was all about in peak season. I walked out along the main beach front and all the tanned ripped supermodels that were on the beach were now out on the town. All the girls were tall, blonde and wearing such tight short spandex-y outfits you could see what they had for breakfast. And all were wearing really high high heels. I felt like the troll from under the bridge in my jeans and flats. There were plenty of bars and restaurants lining the beachfront, but all were blaring the same NOW 56 beach party tunes into the street, with people blaring at each other even louder, happily on their way to Saturday night drunken nuttiness. So I sidestepped all this and found a relatively interesting looking place where some better music was playing and the girls were wearing more than knickers and lipstick. They had some good looking beers on tap but everything had run out because of the crowds from the day, so I got a bottle of witte beer ($14 people! That’s around £10). I sat myself in the corner and watched the bustle, but unfortunately nothing else turned out to be interesting about the place. It’s amazing how invisible a person sitting alone in a bar can be; literally no one pays any attention to you unless it’s to throw you a pitiful look when they take the last spare chair away from your table. I don’t mind though, I love to be alone with my thoughts and watching people in strange places. It’s one of the best things about solo travelling, how invisible you can make yourself. I left half my beer (£5 worth) and walked down to the beach where groups of friends or couples were frolicking on the sand in the moonlight with policemen jovially poking their noses in as they walked by to make sure there wasn’t anything frisky going on.

Thanks so much to Hanneke and Steve for spoiling me and looking after me! Was so nice to be with family and spend time with their gorgeous boys.

The next day was Sunday, and I set out early to central Sydney where I was going to explore the city and stay in a backpackers. I got a bus into Manly and then ran for the hourly ferry, and once on it I placed myself right at the helm to make sure I got the best view of that amazing harbour once again, and it didn’t disappoint the second time round. I made my way to the train station and then to Kings Cross where my hostel was. This is supposed to be one of the fruitier areas of Sydney (aka red light district) but in recent years has become gentrified with boutique hostels and trendy eateries, and a backpacker’s haven. I was staying in The Original Backpackers, which was an big old building on Victoria Street and is supposed to be the first backpackers in Sydney or something. There were loads on that street now though but this one turned out to be great. A big balcony in the front overlooking the quirky street, a big kitchen and outside seating area shaded by big umbrellas and plants at the back, and best of all my room had its own kitchen, en suite bathroom and only had 4 beds. Woohoo, backpacker palace! The staff were also really friendly. I went to the supermarket down the road and brought the shopping back to make some lunch, which included a huge juicy pawpaw and some big black grapes. I got chatting to one of the staff, Andy, who was outside playing some tunes on his guitar. He turned out to be the ‘entertainment manager’ which as far as I could tell was taking the guests out on the town five nights a week, and in turn he got free room and board. Quite a sweet deal if you ask me as Sydney is a really expensive place to live. Although how tedious would it be to go out and be upbeat five nights a week? He drew me a map and I went for a walk to the famous and beautiful botanic gardens which was only 15 min walk away, and had a lazy wander through the park and out to the other side which was the Opera house. It was a lovely warm evening walk, man I love it when a city is small enough to explore on foot. 

Then back through the station home again. When I got back a couple of people from my room were outside so I joined them and we nattered the night away with Andy and a few other people until pretty late, when we were booted out the garden and told to go to bed by the night manager. It had started raining big fat tropical droplets at some point so we were all pretty soaked but still reluctant to go to bed, having got into the swing of some box wine.

I was supposed to get a train early next morning to Melbourne, but I really wanted one more day in Sydney so I changed it to an overnight train which actually made more sense. It’s an 11 hour train to Melbourne, and doing it overnight meant I’d have one more day to explore and then I get sleep on the train and not have to pay that night’s accommodation somewhere, and wake up in Melbourne. I’m glad I was able to change it. I spent the next day exploring the rest of Sydney by train and by foot, and walked all the way around the bridge and ‘The Rocks’ which is its oldest part. I walked back around to the botanical gardens and found the open air Olympic sized pool that Steve told me about, right in the botanical gardens and overlooking the harbour. What a perfect moment for a swim, luckily I had my swimmers! I paid $5 and had a very happy hour swimming in a very salty pristine pool and then drying myself off in the sun on a deck chair. At this point the late afternoon storm clouds started brewing, so I set off home in the fat heavy droplets pretty pleased with myself.

I got back to the hostel to find some guitar and ukuleles being played on the balcony, so I got mine out and we all had a jam and a natter until I had to catch my train.

I really liked Sydney, for a place to visit. It’s beautiful, walkable and perfectly laid out and everything is where it should be. It makes the best use of its best scenery, with all its grittier going’s on in one area while still being safe and quirky. And if you want to be grownup and live in the ‘burbs’ you can take a little ferry and land yourself by a pretty beach town somewhere. If I was playing Sim City and wanted to design the perfect city in terms of layout and looks, it would be Sydney. Although the people are a little obsessed with looks for my liking, and everyone is British so it doesn't feel at all like a different country so far away. I felt a little sad to make my way to Central Station and say goodbye. But to Melbourne I go!

Here are all the photos.

New Zealand: Abel Tasman, Nelson & Wellington: 11-15 Feb

After Kaikoura I was on a real high thanks to my new friends the dolphins. I was also happy to be going to AbelTasman, when I was researching where to go in NZ that came up as one of the places I really wanted to see because it’s another untouched paradise being a national park.  I had to go a little out of my way to get there as I needed to end up back in Picton which we were passing through, to get the ferry back to Wellington on the North island.

It was also time to leave Snowflake’s bus and get on another; this time the driver was a girl whose nickname was Motors. She got the nickname because she’s got whopping great boobs and once, as legend has it, got everyone on the bus to motorboat them as they left the bus! Haha. She actually was really fun and nice. It was also good to get off the bus I’d been on and see what the others were like. Motors’ bus was a totally different vibe. Equal split girls to guys, and more solo travelers so they were friendlier. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and felt happy to find a normal group of travellers.

The busses usually stop on the way to the destinations to look at some interesting sites dotted around the countryside, and this day there were more than usual so it took most of the day to reach Abel Tasman. At one of the stops there was a river with a deep pool in the rocks that was so clear you could see every grain of sand on the bottom. It was 6-8m deep and was a beautiful emerald green colour. I climbed down to dip my feet in it, and someone from the bus came over for a chat. I had a funny feeling that he looked familiar, but thought nothing of it. It was only after he recognised my SA accent and told me he grew up in Zimbabwe that it clicked. This was Martin, the son of very close friends of my parents - his dad Phil was a priest for a time at the church we went to growing up. Unbelievable coincidence, seeing as I was on a bus in a remote part of NZ as far away from London as possible. Small world huh? We both had our socks knocked off with surprise. It was so nice for me to see a friendly familiar face too.

We passed Picton and then Nelson, this is supposed to be the sunniest region of NZ. There were lots of apple farms dotted around, and some of the trees had white netting over them. Motors told us these were the apples that were exported; they were covered in white netting to keep them crunchier and less blemished. The uncovered ones they sell in NZ, she said with a hint of irony. A very strange thing about this country is that all the best local produce; wine, fruit, even stuff like bread is cheaper overseas than it is here. The wine especially, it comes from down the road but its way more expensive than buying it in the UK. I just don’t understand why. The bus took a sharp right turn into the windy, steep road to Abel Tasman. It twisted and weaved up the mountain pass, struggling and heaving as it was an old bus this time. The hills became very lush and green with cicadas screeching happily in the trees with warm, humid air floating in the bus. So different to the harsher light and eery emptiness of the mountains further South.

We reached our destination within the national park, a place called Marahau, which only exists to service the park. It’s a couple of camping and kayaking shops, a cluster of little restaurants just at the park’s entrance and some backpacker hostels. The one we were staying at was Old Macdonald’s Farm, and it was more like a caravan park/camping site than a backpackers. I had already chosen to stay in a tent, one of those big one’s with camper beds, as it was $20 a night instead of $27. As we drove our bus up to our area though I noticed that the ‘cabins’ were seriously minimal, tiny little sheds crammed with a bunk bed and a single bed with hardly room to move and all the portaloos and showers were outside like a campsite anyway, so not really sure what the extra $7 was for.

Motors bought tons of food for a barbecue courtesy of the Stray Bus which was nice, for all 40 of us. We all helped in the cabin kitchen, and the gas stove/barbecue griddle was my duty to get started. After the German guy who was helping me ran out of ideas on how to start it, I went around to the back through the bushes to twiddle with some gas knobs. I turned one lever, and he gave it a go and the gas lit. I turned the other lever, and nothing. After a few attemps lighting matches and failing to ignite it, he gave it one more go and then a huge gas fireball exploded out the cooker and took all the hairs of my right forearm and singed a nice little halo around his hair and eyebrows. ‘My hair, my hair! Is it still there??’ He was wide eyed with shock. And it was mostly, thank goodness! Haha, poor guy. I swiftly turned that gas lever off.

A small group of us decided to take a sailing boat in the morning to one of the bays 13km away from our camp in the morning, and then walk back in the afternoon. The kayaking people and the sailing people were in disarray because someone was getting married that weekend and had closed offices, but they all managed to get everyone in the right direction eventually in the laid back, easy way of people working outdoors. Our sailing boat skipper was another pure man of the sea, long blonde scruffy locks and leather soles to his feet which probably never saw shoes. He cracked some good jokes too; ‘So welcome on board for your trip to Fiji, it only takes somewhere between 10-14 days. You brought enough food to last that long right?’ He also let me steer the boat while he got the sails ready. I asked which direction to go in. ‘Over there’ he gestured vaguely to the horizon. Er, okay. I just tried to go straight, and at least we didn’t end up in Fiji.

The day started out cloudy and windy, 

and we crossed fingers and toes for sunshine because that is when these golden beaches are at their best. It was so chilly on the boat to start off with that I had to wrap my hoodie around my ears. We sailed up to some of the bays, looking at the tiny bushy islands dotted around which got incredibly loud with insects and birds as you got closer. 

We were also taken to some rocks around one island where lots of seals were lazing with their fat little babies, see if you can spot them here.

We were told that they are thriving in the area. We sailed lazily around until we came into a bay protected by some islands. In low tide you could walk across it but in high tide it was 4m deep and you could see the bottom clearly as the boat sailed over the clean clear water. The water was a beautiful blue turquoise colour, and the sand golden. You could not Photoshop more vivid colours. Totally different to the East coast and inland on the South island where everything is grey pebbles. We pulled onto a golden beach for lunch as the clouds completely disappeared and the big warm yellow sun broke out and belted down on the sand. I jumped straight out the boat and spread myself out in the warm sand like a starfish for some full body sun worship. We ate the sandwiches I had made for lunch; wholemeal rolls with pesto, tomato and cucumber with some bananas and peanuts from the food stash. Some funny fat NZ beach ducks came to eat the bread out of Martin’s hand. After I had heated up to boiling point I went straight into the turquoise crystal clean water. It was so clean I could open my eyes and see meters ahead of me – as if I was looking at a blue sky of water above with white sand for grass below - and my eyes didn’t sting at all. It was cold but I spent a long time holding my breath and doing dolphin dives, so refreshing I wanted to breathe the water in. THIS IS THE LIFE.

Martin realised that he left his shoes on the boat just as it pulled away from the beach, but wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He was going to do the whole walk back on the path through the thick park bush barefoot. I didn’t bat an eyelid, I knew he had a childhood in Zimbabwe and was an outdoors adventurer, but the people with us were totally shocked. 13km in no shoes, when they had their best walking boots on! Haha. I had my trusty Crocs, which I used to mock people for wearing but are the most ridiculously practical shoe for travelling near water on the planet. Big heavy shoes with socks that get soaked every time you have to walk through water and then stink and are covered in mud the rest of the time? Um, no thanks.

Our group walked through the well worn path through the think ferns, trees and indigenous plants that make up the park. Every time you turned a corner there’d be huge turquoise blue view of the sea with dark green islands and golden sand beaches spread out below. 

Every now and again Martin would stop and explain something interesting to us about the birds or bugs that live there, at one point putting one bug in his mouth (but not chewing, making it like a cave) to demonstrate how this type of bug only makes a noise when it can see light. Definitely a Zimbabwean at heart! I really wanted to see a Kiwi bird but they only come out in the dark. They are such weird looking things, they look like this. No wonder they are nearly extinct, poor little weird birdy. 

We walked all 13km (about 3.5 hours), stopping at some of the beaches to snack on dates and chorizo that Martin had in his pockets, to the park’s entrance and were very hot and had sunburnt noses. Conveniently at the end was a rustic restaurant that sold gourmet pizzas and yummy NZ beer. I only had the beer, have to watch the pennies! But we went back to the crazy caravan park that was our hostel and had left over sweet potatoes and onions from the barbecue the night before, and some avocado and tomato salad with corn on the cob. We drank some wine and got bitten by sandflies and mosquitos while Martin told me about his insane exploits while travelling, which including him almost dying in the outback in Australia trying to escape a madman he was working for!

The next day I was to leave Abel Tasman and go back on myself to Nelson and then Picton, where I was catching a ferry to Wellington on the North island. Motors gave me a lift as far as Montueka where I bid farewell to the Stray Bus and headed for a cafe with internet so I could figure out how to get back to Nelson. Well, there were two buses. One at 7.30am (it was 10.30 now) or at 5.30pm. Very sorry to the White’s if you are reading this, I know I said I wouldn’t hitchhike after being warned! But during my entire South island trip I saw tons of hitchhiking backpackers including solo girls, and after speaking to my bus drivers and people working in the area I was told that this was probably the safest place in the entire world to hitch a ride. Also it was only 46km to Nelson, so I promised myself that I’d only get into a car with a couple or a female. I placed myself strategically at the exit of the big supermarket at the edge of town and on the road to Nelson, and within 7 minutes a very sweet British couple picked me up. Perfect! They were travelling around NZ in their hired car, and were going to stop in a village not far for lunch and then go on to Nelson. I told them I wasn’t in a hurry and I went to the little village with them, which turned out to just be a collection of shops and galleries and a fish and chips restaurant on the bay so we didn’t stay long. We passed about 30 young backpackers hitching on the way there, so I had chosen the best position in town.

We got to Nelson and they told me about the backpackers they were staying in, so I just went along to see if there were any dorm beds left there. It was a great little place but totally full, so I bid them farewell after apologising profusely for leaking half a bottle of pesto from my shopping bag on their car floor, and went off to find another hostel. The closest one on the map was called The Palace but it took around 25min in the afternoon heat to find it. When I did I saw that it was on a very busy road next to a petrol station, great. The entrance on the road led you up a very windy and impossible stairway when you’re carrying a heavy bag, up through some ferns and there perched on the hill was a very unexpectedly pretty big old house that was The Palace.

I was very happy to be somewhere that wasn’t with a bus full of travellers on the main tourist trail, and it was leafy and quirky and one of the oldest buildings I had seen in NZ so far. It had a big old kitchen and dining room, and a nice TV room with comfy sofas next to big open windows, so I breathed a sigh of relief and plugged in all my gear. There were no plugs, internet or anything vaguely practical for travellers in the tent in Abel Tasman. My room was in another building tucked down some more stairs on the property, and it was its own small house with its own kitchen and bathroom and proper beds, for the 6 or so people staying there which was nice.

I made some lunch and bedded down in the TV room, and no one came in so I had it to myself. Even though the hostel was supposedly full that day, there was hardly anyone around except the people that worked there. It was actually a really weird place, because even that evening I only saw one or two people. There were lots of little rooms and cabins dotted around, and at around 8pm I heard some people laughing and chatting and found a little room outside decked out with trippy wallpaper and psychedelic wall hangings. All the people working there and one or two guests were crammed in smoking pot and playing a game, ‘everything must die’ or something like that. It’s when you draw a picture, of say cowboy. Then the next person has to draw something killing that, like an Indian. It was handed to me, and I had to kill a toaster that had just killed a knight in metal armour by electrocuting him (?). So I drew a bathtub with the toasters wire going in it and passed it on. Still confused about where all the guests were and feeling this was a strange little hostel, I went off to bed laughing at their weird game and funny drawers.

Nelson is a strange place. Its population is only 70k but it felt like a much bigger town, all industrial with huge warehouse-like supermarkets on one long street. There is a beach somewhere apparently but I never saw it, I think I stayed in the bum part.

The next day I dragged my bag a few blocks to the bus station where I was getting a bus to Picton. It was the most comfortable bus I’d ever been on, but you weren’t allowed to eat and it was a 2 hour drive. I sneaked some grapes in anyway. The drive was pretty and green to Picton. My ferry was at 1.15pm and I got there at 12pm, enough time to mooch around the ferry terminal and a teeny bit of the town. It’s quite small and seems that its full purpose is to be the gateway to the South. Even the ferry terminal was spotless, with no rubbish near the water which was still sparkling clean with birds and wildlife.

The ferry was massive, 8 floors! I think it’s the biggest ship I’ve been on. I was nervous about seasickness but it was so big that I didn’t feel it. The ferry was 4 hours or so, I thought it was only 2 hours but it was a very nice ride. You could sit up on the deck and watch the South island slip away from you, with its many jagged islands and peninsulas with boats and birds galore. As we got near the North island and Wellington, there were even dolphins jumping alongside the ship!

I got off the ferry and collected my luggage, and then waited 25 mins for the ferry shuttle to take me into town, which turned out to be a 4 min drive to the train station. Tsk. By this time it was 5.30pm and I had been up and travelling since 8.30am so I did something very extravagant and got myself a taxi to my hostel which was $18! Eek. I thought that I might be meeting a friend that Carrina in London had emailed about me being in Wellington for one night, but it turned out that she was having a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner with her boyfriend. Yes, it was the universal day of love and I was all alone in Wellington so I was going to be even more extravagant and take myself out to dinner to cheer myself up.

I stayed at the Trek Global hostel and it was extremely new and institutional and felt like I was in a prison. I was in ‘the sanctuary’ on the top floor which was supposed to be an all girls floor. The hostel has about a million really heavy doors that you have to beep through with your door card, and after carrying heavy bags after a long day of slogging this is enough to make your blood boil. It turned out that I was in a teeny box room with a window the size of a handkerchief so high up you couldn’t see out of it, with one other girl in the lower bunk. This was the sanctuary? More like a low security prison for the mentally unhinged backpacker. At least the all girls bathroom had a hairdryer and a hair straightners, I could make myself look hot for date with my travelling cat Farigo at least.

Wellington is artsy and cute with trams and some pretty old buildings. It felt like the only place that really had any subculture since I’d been in NZ, with the exception of some hippies near Nelson. Cuba Street has all the dive bars, comedy clubs and quirky restaurants, so I took a walk to check it out and see if there was anywhere suitable on Valentines night for a lone backpacker and her wooden cat.

But it was all a little too public for me. I took a walk to another street that Carinna’s friend told me about which turned out to be a little alleyway tucked away, with a cosy gastro pub selling a good range of NZ beers and yummy looking gourmet pizzas. There also weren’t any couples being romantic in there which sold it to me. The pizza was indeed very yum, Cajun chicken with jalapenos and red onion. And the ale was good too, they brew some good beer over here.

The next day I took a short tram ride through this cute little city past the suburbs with the late Victorian terraced houses to the airport, where I boarded effortlessly and punctually (as is the NZ way) to Auckland. I like Wellington, it’s somewhere I could picture myself living.

I arrived in Auckland for my last night to see the newlywed Macfies and Te and Chris. I gave Bex a call and surprised her, she thought I was coming the next day, but she sweetly picked me up from the airport and took me to her cute retro house that belonged to her grandmother. That evening we met Te with some of her old work friends including Hayley from the wedding in a great little bar / eatery in the hipster area of town. This is where Bex and Te would love to live, but kind of like Dalston in London its way overpriced. The bar made me feel like I was in East London a little, but with some New Zealand hipster charm. The food was really bloody tasty, I had Welsh Rarebit and some delicious wine, so we drank and ate and smoked too many Vogues, I had such a nice time. Chris and Te came back to the Macfie’s pad and we drank some more citrus vodka that Te fished out her handbag, and chatted into the wee hours. Aw I’ll miss my darling fun NZ friends that I have to leave behind quite a bit! The next day Bex drove me back to the airport with our hangovers, it was time to say good bye and fly to Australia.

My overall impression of New Zealand is this: It’s exquisitely clean and has beautiful untouched nature and wildlife. It has the best seafood I’ve ever had, anywhere. It’s small but has majestic scenery and coastline which makes it feel less claustrophobic. Kiwi’s seem very proud of their country and their jobs and work with smiles and dedication for all the tourists which is so nice to witness. Even down to supermarket checkout attendants or bus drivers, who all make you feel like they’re your helpful aunties or uncles. Everything is on time, all the time. It’s the most punctual place on the planet, and everyone seems so law abiding. It seems quite 1950’s England, but the British descendents are proud of Maori culture and have sort of adopted it as their own. It feels like a happy, uncomplicated existence where everyone is friendly to each other with no class division (the only kind of division is with immigrants which is normal for any country), but may be a little lacking of subculture for someone interested in different things, although there is still a few things going on for people who are.  It’s really expensive, some things so much more expensive than even London.

Well, that’s my take on it I may be completely wrong! But I can definitely see why living there would be a happy existence.

I’d definitely recommend travelling there at least to see one of the least affected negatively by humans countries on earth, but if you want to steer clear of 18 year old Europeans maybe research tour bus options. Travelling on your own can be very lonely too as it seems 90% of people over 25 are in couples and not interested in talking to weird lone travellers like moi!