Kat & Marty

Mum, Dad and Helen were all waiting at the entrance gate for us in ChristChurch. As always it was a huge relief to be home and so nice to see my family. We had a coffee in the airport with Helen who had more University lectures to go to, before driving out to Dunsandel with Mum and Dad. Their home is so peaceful and restful. Marty took a nap and I took a tour of the fruitful vegetable garden (including an eternally sprouting courgette plant) and ate off the cranberry bushes Mum has growing out the front. Helen and Dean came out for dinner and Mum cooked up roast lamb. Marty started showing photos which had us up until midnight.

We were up again at 5:30am for the drive down to Wanaka. Mum supplied us with courgette muffins for the journey. We made it down there by 11:30 and had a bit of a catch up with Carolyn and Matt over lunch before driving over to Arrowtown for a dress fitting. By the time we made it back it was late afternoon and time to go out and celebrate at Carolyn's hen's party. It began at a climbing wall with a competition for a bottle of bubbly for who could do the most climbs and get the most points. It was all a bit much for my tired mind. Jan was particularly impressive and kept going long after everyone else were done. The winner, the Best Man Wayos partner, was very deserving. We went on to The Cow pizza restaurant and finished up with light cocktails at a bar next door. Carolyn was really happy (and I think quite surprised) at the turn out of people from all areas of her life.

The next morning was busy and got busier with Caroyn's phone ringing off the hook. She made candles for the tables and collected flax for them to sit on. Riley, her 9 month old son, was very good and let me entertain him most of the time. We went and did errands downtown for a bit then went down to an apartment Sandy had rented for the night for the wedding party. Poor Carolyn was exhausted and went off to bed quite early. Zoe and I stayed up talking about babies - she is about to have one - until Suzy arrived around 10. After a lot more talking we went to bed and apparently I snored 3 times, though I still don't believe that I snore at all.

We were up in time to get to the hairdressers, despites Mum's car deciding not to start for me. From there we went on to the make-up artists. Zoe and I ducked into a cafe for lunch then found Jan had bought us sandwhiches.... such is life. I went down with Carolyn to get her face done. On the way back she slipped over on some wet grass and narrowly avoided getting mud all over her hair - I had to laugh really hard, mostly in relief I think.

The wedding car arrived to pick us up - a land drover decked out in flowers and ribbons, the perfect car for Carolyn and Matt. The wedding ceremony was really nice though the weather was a bit windy and cold so it was held under the marquee instead of under the sky as originally intended. From there it was all one big party. Carolyn and Matt generously had the wedding party staying out at the Lodge for the night with them and we all slep in luxury - though Marty and I were lucky that Mum didn't turf us out of our room.

The morning dawned still and clear. We had coffee and cake out on the lawn before slowly packing up and moving out. Carolyn and Matt both looked a lot more relaxed. We went into town and had breakfast then a wander around town before heading up to Matt's  parents for a barbeque. We left around 3pm and caught up with some sleep back at the Squire's house. Carolyn cooked up another good meal of chicken and vegetables and we stayed up late talking. In the morning they got away early to have their honeymoon down in Stuart Island. We were much much later.

We arrived back at Mum and Dad's just in time for tea, Helen and Dean came out again and it was quite another party. I arranged to go and stay with them one night of the weekend. The next evening we went over to Abi and Charles for dinner. Charles had just published a children's book based on his sheep dogs, it was really good so we bought a copy which has already disappeared, hopefully not for good.

Early the next morning I got up and drove Marty out to the airport. He was going back to spend Easter with his Dad and family up at Kalbarri. I stayed on in NZ so I could catch up with Rob and Hilary who were still travelling down to Mum and Dad's. I had a lovely dinner in town with Suzy, Peter and Tanith one night followed by Scattergories. Another night I stayed with Helen and Dean. We spent all afternoon chatting on the couch then watching TV movies. The rest of the time I spent out at Dunsandel. Mum had old family papers and newsclippings for me to look through and there was much to talk about.

It was lovely to catch up with Rob and Hilary and Portia and to meet little Kartier for the first time. We went for a walk around the paddocks and had a good homecooked dinner. The next day passed quickly. Rob and Hilary had plans for going to the theatre and dinner with friends which they included me in. Helen and Dean came to the theatre too. It was a great night. The play - Joyful and Triumphant - had been written by Hilary's uncle so had a lot of relevance to her. She commented that the family in the play were similar to her own.

Early the next morning it was my turn to be driven to the airport. Mum, Dad and Rob drove up with me, then Helen and Uncle Hugh came out to meet me there for coffee before going off. It was really hard to leave, especially without Marty there to distract me with his funny jokes like he usually does. But get on the plane I did for a final week in Perth to sort out our gear for the move up to Darwin.

We stumbled out of customs and into a taxi at 2am. Judy had booked us a hotel room at the Northbridge hotel on Lake Street. Only a couple of blocks away from where I used to house share with Greg and Mikey. Our taxi driver was a lovely gentleman from Ethiopia and we had a great conversation on our way into town. At the Northbridge we had a pleasant surprise. We had been upgraded to a penthouse suite. Going up there we were knocked over backwards. We had two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a huge living area with kitchen. The best features were a spa bath and a TV bigger than the dresser. We made good use of both.

At 10:30am the next morning, Judy picked us up and took us over to Mel's for a much needed coffee. We got to meet Joseph for the first time at 4 weeks of age and reaquaint ourselves with Riley, now a big 2 year old. We visited for an hour or two then left for Mandurah. Once there we soon had Judy and John's house in disarray as we unpacked all our treasures for show and tell. We arranged to meet up with Michelle, Julie and Chris the next morning before going on to Jackie and Shane's wedding. That night I was ill though and after throwing up a few times we had to cancel the morning's meeting. We did make it to the wedding however and it was well worth it. Held in their back yard, the wedding had a relaxed feel yet was so beautiful I had to cry. My stomach was still playing up however so after 3 hours we made the drive back down to Mandurah. I think it was just pure exhaustion, though this is the first time in my life I have thrown up from that.

We went up again the next day for breakfast with the sisters. It was lovely to see them all again and catch up on their news. The following day we were also able to catch up with Jodie and Trent and meet their new daughter Imogen. Marty and Hudson got on like old friends.

We were due to fly out to Melbourne on Thursday morning where we were to spend a night out with Mel and Rob who recently married. We were then to catch up with Cassandra and Pete before driving out to Jon Muir's place for a catch up with him, before going on to NZ. On Wednesday we paid a visit to Marty's grandmother Poppy who was quite unwell in her rest home. She woke up and talked to us, then later woke up when Mel was visiting and met Joseph. Later that night she passed away. Of course we cancelled our tickets and our plans. Death is always horrible but this was at it's best. Poppy lived a long and happy life and died with most of her family having seen her in the previous days. The funeral was set for the following Tuesday. We filled our time with organising our affairs ready for our move to Darwin in a few weeks. On Friday we stayed up in Perth at Aunty Di Hay's home with Richard. We went down to the Cottosloe for dinner and had a lovely time despite the overture of grief. The next day we went out sailing with Greg Suraya and Greg's friend Paul. Paul had a racing boat and it was pretty exciting when the wind took the sail and the boat stood right up on it's edge. My stomach muscles were burning by the time we hit the finishing post - but in such a fast boat we were first in the yacht club race.

Judy drove us up to Perth on Tuesday and we went to Poppy's funeral with Mel and Matt. The family were all there as were friends. We drank tea in the hall afterwards before going on to the cremation ceremony. It was heartbreaking. We had drinks after and then went on to dinner. Marty got us a taxi to the airport to catch our midnight flight to NZ and I cried the entire way there. Our flight via Sydney left without dramas.

We reached Dubai in a mental state of just wanting to get home - probably not the best way to set out exploring a new city. It was after midnight when we found ourselves navigating the long lines to get through customs. There were many Indian, Bangladesh and Pakistani people - the Middle Eastern work force. Interspersed were men and women in Eastern dress. The long flowing robes looked exotic and glamorous.

Our internet site warned us that taxis probably wouldn't know where our hotel was, but we were taken straight to the door. Our room contained two twin beds but we were too tired to complain. It was almost midday when we woke and went down the road to find some kebabs for breakfast. We drank pomegranate juice then took a taxi out to the shopping mall. Gift shopping was now going to happen, and happen it did. By 7pm we had presents for everyone and a movie under our belt to boot. We watched Blood Diamonds - bloody enough to give pause for thought. The taxi driver who took us home was mesmerised by Marty's beard, despite his own and began reciting all the religous leaders and prophets until including Jesus Christ himself who had beards. It was quite entertaining. I am astonished at the different attention I receive as the wife of Marty as to being a single woman.

We slept well to midday again the next day. We wandered a nearby market (unfortunately only containing children's clothes not great nuggets of gold) and Marty bought me a mobile phone. Not just any old phone but one that records shopping needs ;) I was tickled pink to later see it feature in Mr Bean's Holiday.

We went out to the airport hours to early in the hope that would speed up our departure time. Once there the info desk said no check in until 3 hours before. If only we had looked at the computer screens we would have seen our flight as an exception, but we didn't pick it until hours and many coffees later. By then the check in had closed again. No matter! What did matter was our plane once again left late. This time it meant we missed our connecting flight from Bangkok to Singapore. To complicate matters, a new suitcase we bought with a lock on it wouldn't let us back in and we had our passports and boarding passes locked away. Eventually we had to break the zip. In 10 minutes we were ran across the entire airport and on a different flight on to Singapore - we were very impressed. In Singapore we had a little more time. We bought Marty some clothes to wear to Jackie and Shane's wedding back in Perth and chilled out in the Qantas lounge for a while. Our final flight was made without any difficulties. We could sit back and relax knowing we were on our final leg home. There was no apprehension, only joy and relief we had made it through.

Martin was waiting for us with a huge welcoming hug at Gatswick Airport. We were ushered into his car and driven down into the countryside of Surrey to his family home. The lovely Beech Cottagewas an original cottage that he and Barbara have worked on and turned into the most comfortable and beautiful retreat. It's bay windows provided lots of sunny nooks and crannies that looked out to the south and at one end a music room with a soaring roof and stained glass windows completed the idylic home.  Barbara had an English Roast waiting for us and the smell hit our hungry stomachs the moment we opened the door. Soon we were ensconced with champagne glasses in hand and old tales from our original meeting in Nepal being rehashed. Barbara had us seated in the lounge chatting with Martin while she made some last minute preparations when we heard a huge crash from the kitchen. Barbara asked for Martin's help for a moment and with a grand apology told us the fridge door had just fallen off! Needless to say, Martin soon had it working again and the dinner was magical. We had our first true yorkshire pudding which was sensational and it was all topped off with rhubarb pie.

We woke to a lazy morning and late breakfast with all the trimmings. Martin took us for a walk up onto the common behind Beech Cottage. On a good day there were views to London and to the Southern Coast, but this day was a little hazy. Sometimes Martin found flint arrowheads from earlier times. Of course we spent the rest of our walk with our heads glued to the ground on the off chance of discovering one ourselves. We were struck by the politeness of passing cyclists who called out thanks when we stepped aside for them - there was no pushing or sending us off the path here. After a spaghetti bolognese lunch, Martin drove us down to some chalk cliffs west of Brighton. With a stunningly deep blue sky presenting a contrast to the white chalk we dragged in deep breaths of clean ocean air and explored the flinty beach. Later we walked along the cliff tops - a grassy green field that ended dramatically without notice. Further along you could see a red and white striped light house. We had a true English beer in the local pub which was clearly quite old, but not as old as our next stop - The Star. The Star, originally The Bethlehem Star shortened in Cromwellian times, was opened in 1303. A moulding of George Slaying the Dragon dates back to the time that George actually did slay the Dragon. It was all quite surreal, but very lovely to drink the warm cellared beer in such an environment, below low hung roof beams on antique tables.

We picked Barbara up from Beech Cottage and went down to the local town for Chinese. The restaurant we were taken too was superb and I am sure I gained another couple of kgs from that meal alone. The drive home again took us along lanes that had ancient trees knot their branches overhead, forming tunnels. It felt like being whisked along a fantasy land setting.

Our final morning arrived much too fast. Martin drove us out to Heathrow and saw us off to Dubai - the final stop before home. We are hoping to have him and Barbara to stay when they embark on their next world trip.

Travelling by train from England, nothing did happen going through the tunnel as I had feared. It was dark instead of grey outside the train window for 20 minutes, the oxygen being pumped in did the right job and no ocean came crashing through the ceiling which was actually a bit of a relief to me, funny as that sounds.

We arrived in the main train station, Gare du Nord, of Paris right on time to a rather grey and dismal day there. We spent a long time trying to figure out where the subway to our hotel was. We could find lines to all sorts of other places but this particular hidden entrance was turning into a bit of a mystery. We decided to try and take a taxi instead figuring the 5-10 minute drive would not break the bank. Exiting the building, I had an Eastern looking woman approach me and give me a note in English saying she had recently arrived in Paris and had a very sick mother and needed money. I gave her 2 Euros then was promptly surrounded by a crowd of similar women. I got angry and told them I already had given money at which they quickly turned on the poor girl who had received the money. We went to get a taxi but were approached by a tout who said he would be able to arrange transport for 30 Euros ($60). We laughed at him and told him not on his life. he looked a little ashamed for a moment but we were already walking back into the train station. We finaly found our subway and descended into the graffiti ridden depths. It didn't feel safe. Eyes were watching us everywhere, sizing us and our rather full backpacks up. We got off at our stop and walked up some stairs to discover the Moulin Rouge windmill. I had no idea it was actually a real place still - I only knew it from the movie of the same name. I was tickled pink to see it there, not realising until later that it indicated we were staying in the sex shop district. We found our way up into the backstreets to our pokey but friendly hotel. We went around to a pasta restaurant recommended by the desk girl and ate the most delicous pasta in the world for dinner. I think the secret behind why French food is so good, is that the chefs are afraid of the complaints if it doesn't pass muster. The people could be pretty scary when they wanted to be.

After a refreshing night's sleep we had a rather average breakfast at our hotel (not many French guests probably), then headed out for a days sight seeing. We started with the Eiffel Tower. Riding up to the top in glass elevators was scary. Marty laughed at me for holding on to the support bar so tight my knuckles were white, but I was terrified to look out as the ground disappeared below us. At the top we had clear views despite the grey sky, to beyond the city limits. We could see the Arc d' Triumphe, the Cathedral of Notre Dame and many other marvellous sights. We walked down the Seine River to the Concord square. On the way a girl we passed suddenly did a dramatic swoop and came up with a gold ring in her hands. We congratulated her on her find. She asked if we thought it was gold - amused, we answered probably and went to move on. She stopped Marty and pressed the ring into his hand blessing him with God's blessings as she did so. Marty and I looked at each other suspiciously - something was up. Sure enough, she turned around and came flying back to ask for money for food and coffee. That was the catch. We grudgingly handed over 4 Euros as we knew we were being duped. We weren't expecting the snarled response of 'That isn't enough - I can't get anything with this!'. Shrugging we departed in a hurry. France does have a welfare system but this is the way of the new open border policy that is being practiced. Beggers and theives come with the workers. Later we saw a similarly dressed woman practicing the same ring deceit on a horrified young man who was refusing to take the ring. Frustrated by more approaches of women with sob stories Marty wrote out an answer on a scrap of paper from my journal: "Hi, My name is Martin and I have not had work for over 9 months now. I have no house or place to live and have a family to support. I don't know when I will have work again and my underwear has not been washed for a very long time. I have nothing to give." The look on the first young lady's face that we showed it to in response to her story was unforgettable. Astonishment is to mild a description! An elderly tourist from Wales asked us how we had got rid of her so we showed him and his wife the note too. They had a good chuckle over it. Their defence was to answer the 'Do you speak English' question with Welsh. That was also a working deterrant.

We went into the Louvre for a peek at the Mona Lisa and a few other treasures. For me, it was just wonderful being in such a beautiful building. Room after room had the most ornate and incredible workmanship of sculpture and moulding worked into the walls. The floors were marble, parquet and other wonderful things I couldn't guess at. We had a coffee there before leaving as I wanted to draw out the visit as long as possible. We walked along further to the Notre Dame Cathedral. The towering walls of stone were so impressive I could have spent a day sitting in there staring and meditating. We were very impressed that no door fee was charged to enter the church - though there were for tours to the roof and to the treasury. We were a little sickened in many countries where entry to the church was forbidden unless a huge fee was paid. We came out and I left Marty comfortably settled in with a glass of wine while I hurried off to buy a pocket sextant I had seen for his birthday the next day. I also bought him wine and crackers and a little bubbly in case he wanted a champagne breakfast.

Collecting him back up again we walked past an outdoor ice rink and sled ride for screaming, laughing children in a small square before making our way back toward the Arc d' Triumphe. This was the true shopping district and we got a couple of Cds to listen do in the car we intended to hire the next day. Back at our hotel we wandered around a little before deciding to repeat our experience at the pasta place. It was a lot more crowded at the later hour and therefore more smokey, but the food was perfect!

The morning of Marty's birthday began nicely. He decided against a champagne breakfast so we ate at the hotel again. We went back to Gare du Nord for a hire car then were on our way. Winding out of the narrow little backstreets of Paris, we headed on the freeway to Belgium to meet up with Marty's cousin Harriet for dinner. She was there on a Rotary Student Exchange program. We were greatly looking forward to seeing her and meeting her host family. The drive there was through a light drizzle. We stopped at a roadhouse for lunch then continued on. I was shocked that there was no border control crossing into Belgium. No stamps in our passport for that one. We drove into the stunning town of  and drove around in the rain for a little while before finding the tourist information centre. There they told us where to buy a phone card and find a pay phone to call Harriet. This we did and on calling her discovered she had been sitting in a cafe opposite the visitor information centre the whole time. It was lovely to see her and we enoyed coffee together before going off to meet her family. They were wonderful and fortunately for us who can't speak French, they spoke English. We ate at a pasta restaurant before going back and seeing Harriet's room. Chantelle, the mother, then drove her car for us to follow to a traditional Belgium pub for a place to sleep. That was a fantastic end to the birthday day. After Harriet and Chantelle left, I at last found the chance to give Marty his sextant before the clock ticked over midnight. I think he was slightly stunned at first as it was nowhere close to his wildest imaginations for what I would give him. in fact, I suspect he thought he was just getting a bottle of vino. Once he had a good look though he was pretty happy. We then went down to toast the end of the night with some of the local brew.

In the morning when we checked out we were given a music CD from the pub which was a great way to start the day. We drove back into France by a more back road route and were stopped by some rather comic looking, though very serious, French border guards this time. Driving along the more scenic route was bliss. Every now and then we would come around a corner and there would be a huge stone castle. Other times we drove through little villages with houses stacked onto each other and delicous looking bakeries. The countryside itself was very green and rolled away into the mist. the forests were frequent and were tempting to go and explore - but we were on a mission to Champagne. We drove through to Ebernay where the more famous Champagne houses live. We visited Moet and Chandan then Mercier and drove the champagne trails. The hotel we stayed in recommended a smaller place to visit which became our favourite. Champagnes are made of three types of grapes, this one used only chardonney and was delicious. The wine cellar was beneath the family home and was run as a joint family business.

We drove down to Geneva to meet friends Scotty and Lyn with their son Sage. The last time we had seen them was when we stayed with them in Vancouver at the start of our trip. Since then they had been living and working in Amsterdam. We found them in their hotel room and left Sage with Lyn to nap while Marty and I used Scotty's assistance to find some accomodation. 

Settled into our new room we collected Sage and Lyn and went to the train station - the only place with an internet cafe. The lads spent a frustrating hour trying to figure out rental car prices while Lyn and I walked Sage. With no results, we decided it was time for a drink. We ate at a Vietnamese restaurant before calling it a night.

In the morning we decided on a complicated means of Marty driving Lyn and Scotty and Sage to the airport where we picked up a bigger rental car, then returned for me. Scotty and Lyn were to follow us to our rental drop off 10 minutes drive away over the French border. Scotty had his GPS system set on avoiding tolls and it took them over an hour to find us. We on the other hand were having problems of our own. The rental shop was locked up for the weekend, with no drop off box for the key. In the end, after a pointless conversation with the company help desk, we dropped the key through an exhaust fan that opened into the office. When Marty called on Monday they had the key and no issues with it's unusual return method.

From there - a little harassed and frustrated - we piled in together and drove to Chamonix. This is a valley of ski fields on the base of Mont Blanc. Lyn had booked us a lovely chalet in the small town of Les Houches close by. Straight away we went into town and stocked up on supplies and snowboard rentals. We were trying to rent ski pants and getting negatives everywhere. In the last shop we went into, a lovely lady told us it is impossible to rent ski pants in Europe but she could 'borrow us some'. I couldn't believe it! The two pant suits she had were our exact sizes. For free we hit the slopes in true retro skier fashions. Many thanks to that show of kindness. 

Scotty and Lyn took first cooking duties and we ate delicious pasta once again. Since reaching France we had yet to get beyond pasta for dinner - but it was so good. 

Lyn joined Marty and I for the first day of snowboarding. We went up the end of the valley where the rumour was there would be good snow and fewer people. The ticket desks were not set up for the flood of Bank holiday and last day of school holiday crowds. French people do not queue well! We spent over an hour in line so ended up just getting a half day pass. Surprisingly, once we had our passes we didn't have to queue for a single chair lift the rest of the day. The snow was fantastic, soft and fresh. We went all over the fields sometimes on cat tracks and sometimes through pine forest which was a new experience for me. By the end of our 4 hours we were all starting to feel the effects of using strange muscles and were glad to call it a day. Scotty had taken Sage sledding for the first time and had a lot of fun. He and Marty went down to get his and Lyn's boards waxed and tuned while us girls stayed back to clean ourselves up. We cooked chicken curry for dinner and talked late into the night.

The next day dawned a bit bleak, but it was all go for another day on the snow. Scotty and Marty were keen for a full day of riding so I got suited up to go with them. We took a really long gondola ride over rocks and trees up to a different ski field, then got ourselves well and truly lost with which chairs went where. The riding was still great though despite a lack of visibility. There were no queues anywhere this day and we rode until we were exhausted. Toward the end we started to have snow ball fights. Scotty gave himself whiplash by falling over backwards in an effort to avoid one of Marty's missiles.

For dinner we went into town to a lovely restaurant who served us up cheese and white wine fondue. We ate ourselves silly. We were the first to arrive but soon it was packed out. For a Monday night that was quite impressive.

The next day Marty and I decided we should organise our tickets back to England and began what was to become an absolute mission to get a plane booked from Geneva at a price that wouldn't break our rapidly thinning bank account. I was also trying to contact our friends Martin and Barbara by telephone. After ages at the visitor information center we had no luck and went back to the chalet for breakfast. Once we had ourselves a little more together we went down into the town of Chamonix to do some gift shopping and have a look around. Once again we had no luck with booking our ticket, contacting our friends or gift shopping. Beer was in order. We went home and cooked up fried rice for dinner.

Waking up to a moutain covered in clouds we decided that sorting out our life was more important than snow this day. Originally we had planned to drive through to Italy but the tunnel was shut. Instead Marty and I went and had a terrible time in Chamonix. We looked for somewhere to change money and for the life of us could not gain the attention of a single staff member in any of the little change kiosks around town. In fact one lady shooed us away as she did her mysterious chore below visibility. We spent hours on the internet and Marty found the perfect fare. Midway through signing on it cut him off. he had a reference and phone number so we went to call but the number was a dud. It was time for another beer. To complete our day, we accidently ordered shandies! At this point we had to laugh. Marty went back to the internet cafe and I went to gift shop. I had no luck once more, but this time Marty hit bingo. We had a flight back to England. Even better, I finaly managed to get through to Martin in England and arrange to meet him. In fact, he was to come to the airport to meet us and take us to stay in his home.

With a huge load off our shoulders we joined Lyn and Scotty who were sledding with Sage. We had sled races and sled disasters in very watery snow. It was a great time and good to let off some steam. I managed to make Marty completely wipe out on our first race, but later he was wiser to my wiles and managed to smoke me. Sage thought it was pretty funny when ever someone fell off. It was a good night for take-away pizza.

It was time to hit the slopes again and we went up behing our cabin to the Les Houches field. Taking the cat track across to ridable slopes was a bit of a nightmare as it was icy and so flat we had to keep getting off and walking. Once we got onto the down hills Lyn had had enough so we went back for an early lunch and Scotty came back for the afternoon. The snow slushed up and ended up being brilliant. the sky was blue and we had awesome run after awesome run. This time it was my turn to get whiplash as I went over backwards getting away from one of Scotty's snowball. The irony was that his aim was wild and if I had stood still it would have missed me by miles.

Our last day of riding began with a really icy run down what had been a beautiful slope the day before. A little put off by it, we stopped and had a hot chocolate while we waited for things to soggy up a little. I got a couple of good runs in before lunch. I stayed back and played with Sage for the afternoon while the others went riding then dropped all our rentals back. We had great fun exploring the large backyard and watching Mary Poppins. We went into a pizza place for dinner. It is always sad to hit the last night of time spent with friends.

In the morning there was a madness of packing bags and the car and getting out of the chalet and onto the right road back to Geneva. At the airport there were many people waiting in queues for our jetstar flight. We were sent away to wait until closer to our flight so we made our goodbyes to Lyn and Scotty then went up and had a prolonged lunch. When we came back to the queue it was twice as long again. This time we were allowed to stay. Finally we got through customs only to discover our flight was delayed by 2 hours. The waiting area was completely packed out and there were too many people to even thinking about having a quiet cup of coffee somewhere. It became claustrophobic to me. Eventually we found a place down a long corridor where we were able to read our books until at last we were able to leave.

We arrived in England at the rather tired looking Heatrow airport early in the afternoon. I tried calling friends of ours whom we had met in Nepal 4 years before but they were unavailable so we jumped on the internet with the intention of booking a room in a hostel near the Tower of London. Everything was booked out. So - much to my great sadness (yeah right!) - we had to book into a 5 star hotel. It was bliss. Though the room was small it was so clean and comfortable and beautiful. I was in love with it! It even had a pen to steal :) Not that I would do a thing like that of course. After cleaning up a little we went down and walked around the tower. We found an old piece of wall in one corner that dated back to Roman times. I was falling in love with more than our bedroom now. We found an Indian restaurant around the corner from our hotel and feasted royally. We tehn walked along the Thames, stopping for a drink in a small bar tucked under the London bridge.

The next morning when we could finaly drag ourselves out of bed, we went over to the Tower of London and took a tour. The Yeoman Warder who gave us a talk and tour was hilarious - he gave all the children a lot of giggles with his talk of chopping off people's heads. We queued up and saw the Crown Jewels with some of the biggest diamonds and precious stones in the world. After wandering through the towers for ages we finaly dragged ourselves away to see a few more of London's great sights. We took a subway across to the Parliment buildings and saw Big Ben, the Westminister Abbey (only from the outside as it was closed), the Parliment buildings and the London Eye. The London Eye is a huge ferris wheel that takes you up high so you can see for miles over London town and out to the countryside. The visibility wasn't great so we saved our pennies on that one. We went down to a tourist office and got brochures on the Lakes District and on Cornwall, the two areas we hoped to visit. We had lunch at an English pub. Marty had a delicous looking pie and I ate minestrone soup - trying to be good. We walked on from there to Buckingham Palace where there was a sandwhich board up saying 'No Changing of the Guard Today'. The place looked pretty quiet, some one told us the queen spends most of her days out at Windsor Castle these days so I suspect she wasn't in at Buckingham Palace when we walked by. We went on to Harrods and wandered around the bottom floor of the huge deparment store. I was pleased to see quite a few things from NZ there - like Bluff Oysters. It had been a long day so we caught the subway home and spent the evening resting in our lovely room. I had a long bath and Marty watched TV - in English! It was brilliant. We looked at our timetable and figured out that if we wanted to spend any time in the wine regions of France we would have to leave the next day so the Lakes District and Cornwall will have to wait for another time.

The next morning we packed up, checked out and headed down to the Euro Star train station. We had tickets on the next train to France within minutes. I was a little nervous as the train line went through the tunnel under the channel. I couldn't get my head around how we would be able to breathe down there underneath the ocean - and what if the ocean broke through the tunnel while we were in it?

We had one day in Madrid. Our arrival was early in the morning, but by the time we got a bus into town then a taxi onto our hotel, time was getting on. I was exhausted and feeling pretty terrible from my cold. Marty was ready to go sightseeing. We reached a compromise. I had a couple of hours to sleep while Marty took care of some emailing and travel details. Once he was done we would join a 3pm bus tour of the city, then walk around a few of the more famous sights before having dinner in a tapas bar. That was exactly what we did. Marty had to wake me from a deep sleep when he came in. I didn't want to get out of bed.

Once we were on the bus tour I found it almost impossible to keep my eyes open. Halfway through they stopped for a coffee break. After a double caffeine hit I was ok for an hour or so before the tiredness swamped me again. The tour operator was busy translating from Spanish to English to French to German. We whisked past grand palaces and mansions, universities, commercial buildings and past the bull fighting stadium. The tour took us basck to our hotel. From there we meandered through cobblestoned streets past buskers playing accordians and glasses filled with water down to one of the city squares. A big marquee was being set up but the show looked a long way off so we went away in search of food. We found a cozy little tapas bar and shared plates of prosciutto and cheese and roasted vegetables with wine and water. Romantic jazz played in the background and the lighting was a romantic golden yellow. We finished and walked on to the palace with winter trees framing the beautiful white lines of the building. Sculptures and statues adorned the parks and street corners everywhere - a photographers dream. At last the early spring cold was too much for me, I was beginning to feel feverish, so we walked back to the hotel.

I started to burn up in a hot fever but still managed to sleep well. Marty battled with the hotel heating system but in the end we slept with a window open to cool things down a bit. In the morning the fever had broken though I felt quite weak and tired. We caught a subway out to the airport, then were put on a bus to another terminal. From there we checked in then caught another train back to the boarding gate. We caught our plane to Heathrow with relief.

Brazil is the largest country in South America. In fact, so big it is larger than the entire continent of Australia. We had that one proved to us on someone's atlas when we expressed scepticism.

Crossing the border at Iguazu Falls was easy. We rode a bus that dropped us at the border where guards stamped our passports without even looking at them or the yellow fever vaccination stamps we were supposed to have proof of. So clearly it was a really good thing we spent three extra days in Buenas Aires getting Marty a visa -not! There were three other backpackers that crossed over with us who we got chatting to. They seemed a bit reluctant to part company with us. We would say good-bye and walk off then they would be heading in the same direction. It eventually somehow ended up with us watching their bags for almost an hour, in the hot noonday sun when we wanted to be moving on. Eventually we freed ourselves by taking a taxi, which is a bit out of most backpackers price range, to the main tourism office. They directed us on to a good back packers. It was so good we decided to stay there all afternoon rather than sight see. I lay by the pool. Marty used the internet. WE went down the road to a lovely sushi restaurant for dinner, then we slept like babies.

The morning dawned hot and clear again. We arranged to catch a bus to a small island named Florianopolis (try saying that three times fast!) later in the evening. The hostel owner said he had booked us semi-bed tickets for a much cheaper price than usual, and he also steered us away from the hostel we planned to stay at (he said it had no double beds, only dormitories) for a friends one that he thought would be a lot better (the implication was he had booked us a double room) and whom would pick us up from the bus station.

Until then, we had free time so went out to the Brazilian side of the Iguazu falls. We were able to get a much better overall view of the masses of waterfalls cascading down everywhere and went up on a rather spectacular viewing platform. Furry little coatis ran around everywhere getting into rubbish bins and licking up spilt icecreams. We first saw these cute furry little animas, which are related to the racoon, in Bolivia. They are impossible not to fall in love with because of their unrelenting curiosity coupled with such a huggable demeanor. The coati has become both Marty and mine favourite animal. We also saw copious amounts of lizards scurrying around everywhere. Mostly they were small, but on the bus ride back from the falls to the park entrance, we saw one that must have been over a meter long. I have no idea what species it was but it was funny to watch it waddle off into the bushes. Vast varieties of butterflies fluttered about, though not the clouds of the Argentinian side.

The evening took us out to catch our flash yet cheap semi-cama bus - it was cheap but not flash or semi-cama. It was so crappy that Marty couldn't even fit into the seats at the second to front row we had reserved. The girl in front who wanted her seat back complained at us until we moved to seats further back (and closer to the stench of the toilet in the back corner). As more and more people piled on we were forced further and further back, until we said no more! Fortunately as we drew our line, no one else got on so there was no show down over seat numbers.

We arrived slightly motion sick and very tired at the bus station expecting Chris to be there holding a placard with our names on it. Instead we were greeted by some friendly touts and had to sit around and fend them away for a good half an hour. The bus company had told him the wrong time for our arrival when he called that morning. He was a lovely guy from Chile, very friendly. He spoke Spanish, a little Portugese and a very little English. We spoke English and a little Spanish and no Portugese. We got along just great. Back at his hostel we found he only had dormitories and we were in a room with two other couples - not what the plan was! I was disappointed but Chris was such a great guy we decided to stay on for the two nights we had reserved. He had some friends staying from Chile so we were invited to join the crowd on a trip to the beach. On the map, Florianopolis seems quite small but to get to the closest beach it took us three bus connections and an hour and a half of time. Once we were there it was wonderful. The sand was fine and white, the water clear and warm and people were out in force creating a festive atmosphere. We ate and swam then walked over to a neighbouring bay to go snorkeling. This was the first time I have been on a guided snorkel and will probably be the last. We followed along but really would have enjoyed it just as much if not more by ourselves. The snorkel guide pointed out an electric sting ray on the bottom. A moment later he reached down to pick up a shell and missed touching a second electric ray by inches - he didn't see it and was a little shocked when we told him later how close he was to it. He was in a wetsuit and was prepared to stay in the water for hours. He told us being in the ocean was his passion and his realisation. We on the other hand were just in boardies and bikini respectively. The sun had gone behind a cloud and we started to feel a bit cold. We waited while the guide checked someone elses nets for fish before swimming back for dryish land - rain had started to fall. We then had an hours wait for a bus to begin our long journey back to the hostel. There we found no restaurants open so ordered delivery pizza with some other guests help.

The next day was Sunday and everything was closed. A lady (I think she actually owned the hostel building), dropped us off to a bicycle rental place so we could ride around the island. The rental was run by two young ladies who knew nothing about bikes. The poor bikes, which would have been quite good early in their existence, had never been maintained. The chains were completely rusted out and Marty had to disengage his back brake as the wheel was so buckled he couldn't pedal. We tried to arrange to hire them for two days but they had a three hour limit so after a lot of negotiations they agreed to the entire day. 45 minutes later we took the bikes back giving them up as a bad job. We were now miles away from the bus stations and we wanted to be on the beach so we paid through the nose for a taxi to take us over. We did a little research on accomodation there and soon found the hostel we originally were going to stay at did have double rooms (!?!?!) but were now booked out. They were able to put us onto an apartment down the road run by a couple of stage prop artists from Buanas Aires, down the road. Hiring our own apartment was cheaper than our dorm beds back at Chris's place and we were so cloe to the beach we were able to walk out there with our morning coffees. It was a no brainer. We booked the apartment for the next day and spent the rest of our time in Florianoplois there. We took the bus back to Chris's and were once again thwarted by no restaurants or takeaways nearby. We ended up cooking pasta in tomato sauce. We decided to try out some local wine and tried to go cheap on it. One was so sweet we could barely stomach it - though one of Chris's friends tasted it and pronounced with fine panache that though it lacked the fuller body of a Chileano wine it was 'not bad'. I was stunned - actually he was right. It wasn't bad, it was much worse than that - it was awful! We tried a second bottle that tasted like alcohol with grape flavour added - a creative idea to get around making real wine. After this we gave up. We enjoyed chatting and socialising with the Chileanos before they headed out for a night on the town. In the morning we slipped out before they were up. I felt slightly guilty for leaving, but we wanted to be on the beach.

We were so happy with our decision. We lazed on the beaches and swam when it got too hot. Marty hired a surboard and joined throngs of other riders in the waves. We went for long runs along the sand. I bought a Brazilian bikini to sunbathe in baring my shockingly white arse to the world - I didn't stand out in the least. Everyone was wearing their 'four little triangles of nothing' or in some of the blokes case 'two little triangles of nothing'. Take your pick which was the scariest. Vendors selling everything from water and beer, ice-cream or barbequed cheese to clothes and furnishings. On our last day on the beach a cocktail cart was wheeled up and down the beach. We couldn't resist a pina colada. Having proof of our willingness to spend in our hands we became targeted by many more vendors that day. One day we went over the hill to a more sheltered harbour where Marty hired a wind surfer. He took out a new board with sand paper like grip on the top. Out in deeper water he came off and with a board too small for him spent 45 minutes lacerating himself on the grip before he got back into shore. The skin on his fingers was missing and he had bruises and cuts all over. The remedy? A couple of beers in the attractive beer gardens over the road.

Back at our apartment Estalla and Gustavo from Buenas Aires turned out to be fantastic land lords giving ua all sorts of advice on managing our way around. Before departing on our final day, Estella talked us through how to make Mate tea. From a new wooden gourd you had to fill it with wet mate tea leaves for several days to infuse the gourd wood with mate flavour. If you don't do this the bitterness of the gourd penetrates the tea. You then put fresh teea leaves in the gourd three quarters full. If you have a sweet tooth you can put sugar in at this point - also dried orange or lemon peel for flavour. The next step is to fill the gourd with hot but not boiled water. One person takes the gourd and using a special metal mate straw, drinks the entire liquid content out. The gourd is then topped up with more hot water and handed on to the next person. We read a book on the gauchos of Patagonia and in some places, which hand you pass the gourd on with can become symbolic of whether you like or dislike the person you are passing to. The biggest insult as a guest is not to be offered the mate pot at all and if this happens it is wise to leave that household as soon as possible.

The only reason we left Florianopolis was to go up to Rio de Janero for Carnaval - the biggest and most famous street party in the world that runs for five days. We took an overnight bus up (a little more comfortable this time) and arrived in Rio late morning. We took a taxi to our pre-booked hotel in the city center. There was a huge street party going on!In the end we walked the last part as it was faster than staying in the taxi. People were dressed up in all sorts of costumes and drinking beer. It was hard to force our way through to the hotel entrance. We were highly relieved they hadn't let our room out to someone else. Even while we were checking in, the desk was turning away people looking for accomodation. We dropped our bags and went out to join the party. It became downright scary as the people jammed in tighter and tighter. Walking around the block took an entire hour and it was a huge relief to get back into our room and have space to breathe. The heat was intense and the music loud. We walked out again away from the crowds and found a kilo restaurant. You fill your plate up from a smorgas board then pay by the weight. Our second time entering the street party we were a little wiser and just hung around the fringes watching the people go by. There were a disturbing amount of cross dresses - big hairy men dressed in frilly little frocks. Later, after it got dark, we saw a small parade come down one of the main roads. It was so full of energy, despite the late hour. This was what we had come to Rio to see.

Our hotel booked seats for us at the Sambodrome where each night different samba schools compete in a huge parade. The costumes for each parade can cost well over a million dollars and are incredibly elaborate. The floats range from mechanical animals to fairytale fantasies. We went on a Saturday night and arrived at around 8pm. The first parade was wonderful. With thousands of spectators cheering and dancing to the samba music, gorgeous costumes were pirouhetted down on the parade floor. An hour later when it was over I was a little disappointed as I wanted to see more. Marty laughed at me - there were 11 more parades to go. More and more spectators poured into our stand. I was glad we were near the side as I began to get claustrophobic. Heat stored up in the concrete seats from the hot sun of that day, and thousands of moving bodies generating heat, meant we were dripping in sweat. I started to find it hard to breathe and had to keep down the panic. Fortunately it was only like that for one parade then it began to thin out a little again. Even so the atmosphere was amazing - so many happy people having fun. Despite the alcohol being consumed, noone was drunkenly obnoxious or causing trouble. We left early at 4am, the competition didn't finish until after 8am.

We managed to do a little sight seeing during the days. One day we went down to the beaches by metro. It was great having such cheap and easy to use transport. We went to Copocabana first. We were fairly early and managed to get a small patch of sand. As the day wore on more and more people piled in of all shapes and sizes. The water was freezing despite the hot days but it was still full of people cooling off. Huge dumping waves would be full of flailing limbs as people tried to body surf or were knocked off their feet. We took a bus down the road to Pasadena where we had lunch. Marty had developed a taste for a Brazilian fish sauce made from maniac flour. Most meals that came out would be enough to feed two. At this particular restaurant they told us one serving is enough for one. We were given huge portions and were a little annoyed until we looked around and noticed the huge girth of most of the patrons. We walked down Pasadena beach avoiding balls and bathers splashing. Once again the completely immense number of people had me feeling claustrophobic again. Another day we went up to see the 'Flying Jesus' as Marty calls the statue. Rio de janeiro is famous for this statue looking down over the city and you have the option of taking a tourist train up or going in a private van. Seeing the huge queues for the train we took the van. The crowds here were awful too. With the heat, the bodies packed into the van and the inability to get my own space I was feeling pretty awful. By the time we got back to the hotel I was in tears. I didn't want to go out again but we still had another day. Waking up I realised I had a cold and the feeling of not being able to breathe was probably because my sinuses were blocked up. Marty had a bad case of food poisoning so it was a rough day. We found that the entire area we were in was closed down until after Carnaval so we had to head out to the beach to use the internet or eat. We did that. Our final night the movie theatres opened and we gained some comfort and relief from our situation by watching 'Little Miss Sunshine'. It wasn't the high party note that Marty had hoped to leave on, but for me - I was happy to be getting out of that city.

At the airport the next morning we found the usual problems caused by difficulties with communication - despite trying desperately to call the day before I had been unable to get through to confirm our flights. Our flight had been cancelled. For once we were in good hands. The air line had us in free transport out to a different airport and onto the next plane with no problems at all. We had a changeover in Sao Paulo then headed out to Madrid.

Buenas Aires was like a second home by now after all the time we had spent there. We got off the boat, took our bags straight to the bus station and put them in lockers (that was a sqeeze), then hit the walking malls to go shopping. We bought a mate bowl and straw to take mate tea from, a leather backpack to replace the disentegrated day pack we left home with, and lots of coffee to keep us going. It was quite an afternoon and it became quite a rush to get back in time for our 20 hour bus ride up to Iguazu Falls.

Our bus was meant to be fantastic. By now we were South American bus connisseurs and we thought it was pretty good but we had seen better. We were dished out some airplane style food, had wine sloshed in our glasses then sat back and watched a romantic comedy followed by a family drama - you can imagine Marty's delight...

We arrived on the Argentinian side of Iguazu Falls at 11am. We walked our backpacks through the air so humid you could drink it and so hot it scorched our faces as we moved, down the street to the first accomodation we could find that had a free room. Free of our bags we went back down to the train station and had the tourist bereau book us onto a boat ride right up to the falls. 15 minutes later we were on a bus and taken down to the national park. We had coffee then went on our boat ride. It was fantastic! As we waited to board the oversized jet boats, clouds of butterflies billowed and settled around us. They were exquisite. The boat ride was an hour long but felt like it was over in minutes. We whizzed up the river at a terrifyingly huge amount of speed. Then were alternatively given opportunities to photograph the falls then become immersed under them. When we were dropped off on the shores again, we ordered a DVD of the fun trip. We walked up and out onto the lip of the falls by the way of a path that meandered past various look-out platforms. We took the park train out to one lookout that had us suspended right over the largest fall of all leaving us dizzy and gasping after our first look down. Everywhere, butterflies of all discriptions and colours fluttered around us, landing on our hands and arms. Girls everywhere looked delighted to have the colourful guests alight on them - unlikely spiders would gain such welcome. I think it is because butterflies feed on honey and look like fairies. Marty teased me for being such a girl in my opinions on them.

Back in town we looked for somewhere to eat dinner at the early hour of 6:30pm. Nowhere was open! At one of the few places we could find that was open there was only bar snacks available so we settled for plates of fries, and the eternal steak sandwiches. We slept well in our little room but were wakened early by a building site we had failed to notice next door. We breakfasted, then arranged for our bus on to Brazil. 'Don't cry for me Argentina, for when I'm gone I will still be with you...'

Entering Uruguay was entering a whole new world... well almost. Even more people were standing around with half closed eyes while sipping from their ever present mate bowls. I had yet to try the tea though I had heard that it increased your feeling of alertness while allowing you to remain calm - unlike coffee that has you jittering all over the place.

We hiked around town in a big circle looking for accomodation. Sweat soaked, we finally ended up next door (literally) to where we started, and took a lovely big room with it's own bathroom, for not too much dinero. We showered the hot sun away then went out to check out Colonia. This town has the privilege of being the only town in the world to be declared in it's entirety, a world heritage site. We soon saw why. Beautiful cobblestoned streets and gorgeous, well conditioned colonial styled buildings created an atmosphere of tranquility. We went down to the waterfront, the lights of Buenos Aires glowing in the near distance, and saw a full, fat, yellow moon raise over a yacht marina. It seemed pretty close to paradise. We ate in a small restaurant boasting the yearly jazz festival. Over the road, as our jazz musicians warmed up, a drummer parade did the same. The two factions competed for a good hour before the parade bet it's way down the street and out of earshot. Everpresent jewellers punted their wares on the street side before us. Surprisingly (not!) they didn't conduct much business. On every street corner, we found people peddling their homemade jewellery. So much so that we began to wonder why people bother with it anymore. The competition is more fierce than a board room meeting. At least in a boardroom they have air-conditioning.

We slept well, then arose and managed to hunt and gain a contract on, the last hire car in town. Buenos Aires and Uruguay were both in peak holiday season so things were getting a little competitive. We drove up out of Colonia and headed well north of the country to Punta del Diablo. Punta del Diablo (Point of the Devil), is known as a beautiful but out of the way beach town. Most people don't bother going past Punto del Este (East Point) a little further south. We drove up in the heat of summer with the air conditioner on and our one CD from Aregentina, Soda Stereo, recommended by our Aconcagua guide - Angel - blasting. We stopped for lunch at a parilla (grill) next to a river where throngs of holiday makers swam. We stopped for ice-cream, then for coca-cola, then for the police who wanted to search our boot but then waved me on when I got out of the car to show them our dirty washing. Finally - a whole 4-5 hour drive later, almost out of the other side of Uruguay, we reached the turn-off to Punta del Diablo.

The town was mainly constructed of sand roads and the one tourist map we could lay our hands on showed most of the roads unnamed. We rented a little white and blue cabana for one night then bought bathers or togs to hit the beach in. After airing our glow in the dark hides for an hour or so (and Marty decently soaking his in the brine), we went back and changed then ran along another beach as the sun set. Returning, we wandered down to the township for dinner. A dance show was going on down on the beach, flamenco styled ladies then little girls danced the night away. A local churro maker (sweat donut like deserts) shared his mate with us, at last giving me a taste of the strong and bitter flavoured tea. More jewellers than ever hawked their seed beads and we ate at a small restaurant watching more drummers get more ladies dancing. A local said to us, this place is called point of the devil, but there is no devil here. I couldn't help but agree.

We woke early and ran along the beach again before packing our bags. In our haste to find fuel we forgot to grab breakfast. There was only one remedy for that - ice-cream! We found a petrol station about half an hours drive south of Punto del Diablo and we got to it not long after our petrol light started flashing. With a big empty back seat we decided to pick up a hitch-hiker - an Uruguan heading home to Montevideo (main city) from the beach. When I asked her in my hesitant Spanish, she indicated she was joining us in going to Punto del Este. But, she directed us past the turn off then the second turn off my map told me to take. Confused I assumed she had local knowledge the roads where bad. It wasn't until she waved us over at a turnoff to Montevideo that I realised our turnoffs just hadn't been convenient to her. I was livid but Marty was pretty chilled about the 30kms we went out of our way. Needless to say, no more hitch-hikers found their way into our car.

Punto del Este was the complete opposite of Punto del Diablo. Instead of cute and ecentric thatch covered cottages and shanties, it was a city of high rises as far as you could see. The roads were filled with Buenos Aires holiday makers flaunting their BMWs, their porches and their deep Uruguayan tans. We booked into a hotel room and walked the promenades. We saw some Brazilians playing music on a rotunda and people fishing for not much. A marina was stacked with millionaire and billionaire boats and the sidewalks were filled with restaurant tables serving overpriced and badly cooked food. We ate out of reach of the ocean waves but were still severely taxed for the tourist season. The fish we ate, though, was fresh and good for the stomach.

We drove back to Colonia disappointed of a beach day by rain. We drove through Montevideo and stopped for lunch in a stuffy restaurant that served us good food but was frequented by those above 50. The buildings seemed squat and squalid and I was disappointed to see slums, shacks built up of rubbish against warehouse walls. This country had seemed so perfect, but the lack of finance was still firmly evident.

Back in Colonia we knew where to go to sleep and where to eat. It wasn't until morning before we had to catch the ferry back to Argentina for our bus to Iguazu falls that we stumbled into the backstreets and the true treasure of Colonia. The buildings were stunning. We found an old car that had a nursery of plants growing in it. Cute shops and cafes nestled under shady trees and a plaza oozed old time peace. No time was left to us however and it was back to Busquebus and a boat back to the other side (a nice duty free full boat where I got to spray expensive perfume on for the first time in months!).