Monday 4 October 2010

Nearly Home...

Well...we are in the last few days of our European tour...and feeling gutted and kinda ready to get back to routine! Ben and I have decided that 2 months is about enough for us to be able to really enjoy and appreciate everything we see!! A couple of days ago we went to Bruges in Belgium, which was just gorgeous...and had we seen it at the beginning of our trip we would have been amazed...but instead were like...'Oh that's nice, another cute wee street'. Call me ungrateful or unappreciative...but don't get me wrong, we do still love seeing it, but it hasn't quite the same 'Wow' factor as when we begin! I think once we have had a break for a month or so we will be back into 'Wow' mode...just in time for Christmas in Hong Kong with Mum!!

Well, we have been to Germany and fallen in love with New Wine...which tastes exactly like sparkling grape juice, but is actually wine...dangerous stuff is all I can say! We have seen a million cute wee castles, and Ben has crashed, and flown successfully, a remote control plane. One night we offered to cook tea for the friends we were staying with...Spaghetti Bolognaise seemed the appropriate choice. Now Ben, being used to cooking for just two...in which there is always enough left-over for another two nights dinner...decided, being that there were 4 adults and 2 children, he needed to triple the amount he would normally make. This meant his usually very flavourful Spag Bol lacked the amount of sauce to needed to keep this tradition. Not only this, there, once again, was enough left-over to do another two nights dinner...for all 6 of us, plus some!! We were lucky to find room in the fridge for the copious amounts of left-over pasta!

We then braved driving on European roads again and hired a rental car to drive to the Netherlands! Here we stayed with friends of Aaron's, who he lived with and worked for, for a couple of years! They were the nicest family, and we know that we will be in touch from now on. We fell in love with their youngest daughter...who is just too cute...and tried to convince her to come to Disney Land in Paris with us and then on to London, but I am thinking she didn't understand our English, (due to the fact she couldn't speak it), because for some strange reason, she declined!

We spent a couple of days in Amsterdam...and much to my disappointment, and despite my trying, we didn't get to try hash brownies. Each time I wanted to, Ben assured me that we would be driving soon and therefore couldn't do it. I don't know how me trying a brownie would affect his driving the car? Maybe next time we are in the Netherlands? We visited one part of the red light district...which is literally porn in every shop, visible to all the passing public, and half naked women in every window, beckoning for Ben to come in...despite the fact he was walking next to his wife. They quickly stopped their beckoning the moment I was looking in their direction. I visited the Anne Frank Museum...which was quite amazing, and Ben, who hadn't read the book and decided he didn't want to come, found his way to the Red Light district again, accidentally, or so he says. The minute we met up again, he told me he had a confession...feeling very bad, he said he had been looking for some shop, when he found himself in another part of the red light district and all the girls in the windows were beckoning him. The fact that it was literally the first thing out of his mouth the moment he saw me has convinced me he was genuinely there by accident. I can imagine him freaking out at where he was, knowing he would have to explain himself to his wife later, and trying to get out.

Meeting some of my Dutch family was a bit of a highlight for me. My Opa's brother is exactly like my Opa...despite the fact they hadn't lived in the same country since they were 12. They laugh the same, have the same mannerisms, look the same, even talk the same. It was crazy! And I was amazed that I felt such a connection with this supposed stranger, whether because he reminded me of Opa, or simply cos he is family, I don't know? Never-the-less, we were truly spoilt by them and had the most lovely day, and are planning to return to meet the rest of the family for Christmas next year.

We spent a day in Belgium, eating chocolate till we felt sick, and drinking beer. We travelled up the Dutch canals in a boat drinking tea and eating Dutch food. We danced till 5am in a Dutch bar at a 3rd of October festival. We wandered along the beaches, and tried Dutch Croquettes...mmm...sooo good! All in all it was an amazing visit...and as with Switzerland, we were so sad to leave! But have made our Dutch friends also promise to come visit for a weekend in London!

Now, back in Germany returning the car, and awaiting with dread our 10 hour night bus ride to Paris, we get ready for the last 4 days of our holiday!

Tuesday 21 September 2010

The Last of Switzerland...

Both Ben and I have decided that Switzerland has been BY FAR our favourite part of the holiday! Having been on travelling round for a month, and seeing so much amazing stuff...we have realised, rather quickly, that the best part of travelling is who you meet, and getting amongst the culture! Not only in Switzerland the most beautiful place on earth, but making friends with some of its beautiful citizens has just meant our holiday had reached new heights of beauty! We have been truly and utterly spoilt by Sylvia and her family...and without getting spiritual about it, I reckon this is how Jesus would make people if they came to visit him!

We took a chairlift to the top of one of the Swiss Alps, and had hot tomato soup and Apple Strudel with Vanilla Sauce, (No I was not even slightly afraid going on a chairlift without the imaginary safety of snow beneath me, despite what Ben or Sylvia might tell you if you were to ask them). We walked around crystal clear lakes in the middle of mountains, and hussed our way down the longest monorail in Europe...I personally reckon in the world! And yes I did huss, but only after I had made quite sure that not using the breaks the whole way down would not result in my cart flying off the rail at the corners, leading to a grusome death...yes then I was quite the speed demon! We ate traditional Swiss, and Austrian food, danced the night away, and were given plenty of much needed hair advice...well that last one was directed at me, and the mess I have made of mine going blond and using straighteners daily! So, now heading to Germany to stay with an old school friend of Ben's, we have planned our Swiss ski holiday for February, and made all our new friends promise to come stay with us in London!

Ben Comes Home...

Well, we have returned to Ben's home country, Switzerland...only to find out from a legitimate Swiss person that he in fact does not look Swiss, but Danish, or Dutch...so from now on I will have to cease hassling Ben about looking Swiss, and call him Danish, (I can't go with Dutch, since that is what I pride myself in being).

How stunning is Switzerland! Ben used the word pristine to describe it, and I totally agree! It is much like NZ with gorgeous mountains, rock faces, rolling green grassy hills, crystal clear rivers, etc, but just a bit less rugged! And to top it off are the tiny villages dotted throughout the Alps. Little Chalet style houses, fronted with flower boxes displaying bright red and yellow flowers! Really something picturesque! I am truly in love...and to be honest, it's similarity to NZ had us both feeling a little homesick!

We are staying with a friend of a couple of my brothers and my Uncle, the most lovely girl, Sylvia. And talk about being totally spoilt! Her and her family have made us truly feel welcome! We spent this morning, in true Swiss style, by going into the Alps to collect their horse and donkey. The horse was particularly adamant she was not leaving the Alps, and her other horsey friends, meaning it took a good half hour to get her into the horse float. Pushing her butt, pulling her from the front, teasing her with carrots and bread and lifting her legs did not work. In the end, we had to wrap two straps round her back legs, a man on each end pulling, Sylvia's father lifting the legs, and Ben and Sylvia pulling from the front, to get her in. I think the saying 'stubborn as an ass' needs to be rethought. Ben and I have fallen in love with the silence and fresh air. Even the larger cities are clean and cutely styled, set in the midst of the mountainous Alps. We have fallen in love with Swiss food, and Swiss people. After dinner last night, a group of people invited us to their table for a drink cos they 'wanted to meet the kiwi's'. Ben lapped up the celebrity attention and was in full form, cranking out his knowledge on politics, Swiss banking and farming. He even told plenty a travel tale to get a few laughs. He has truly decided he is home...whether he actually looks Swiss or not!

I look forward to dancing it up in a Swiss club tomorrow night, and checking out more of what this stunning country has to offer!

Thursday 16 September 2010

Milan

So, sitting here on the train to Milan, I am having one of those 'I feel blessed' moments! Every now and then I get these little buzzes, where I am truly so grateful that I get to be over here doing what we are doing. We have just met the most lovely Ozzy girl on our train, who is travelling for a couple of months but is feeling homesick. Naturally I want to take her under my wings and be the nicest person she has met on holiday to cheer her up! I can relate to her homesickness, and hence the reason for my 'I feel blessed' moment...as for a change, I do not feel homesick, and wish I weren't so far away from the people I love most, but am just appreciating our decision to travel!

So Ben, sitting opposite me is attempting to beat my high scores in Bedjewelled Blitz on his phone. He will be lucky, since I have watched him play, and his pause before every move, will unlikely mean he even comes close. Not that I am bragging to you all while he is preoccupied or anything. Actually the other day, we were having competitions on Bedjewelled, and he was hassling me for being so chuffed with myself at my beating him, and I told him, that it is not often I am better than him at something and so I was allowed to gloat every once in a while. He promptly replied that there was plenty that I was better than him at, to which I questioned, 'what exactly?'. Now his response to this was 'Well...you are better at Bedjewelled, and wearing a dress'. Hmmm....is all I have to respond to that. Point proven! Gloat I shall.

I have decided that being away from my new wee niece has turned me into stalker Aunt. I have got photo's of her as my phone screensaver, I made Ben save her to our laptop desktop background, and I spend a good part of each morning looking through the pics I have of her, and just gooing. I think Dam and Lanz will be just slightly relieved that there is thousands of miles of sea between us, or they might have had a daily doorstep visitor!

We have spent the last day and a half building up the last of our tans, before we head up north to the cold, and beginning of winter. No more will I be refused from churches for my lack of clothing...gone are the days of heat, singlets, and swimming!! :-( I had even taking to swimming lengths for exercise, which I had decided was my new favourite, due to the fact that you could not feel the sweat running down your body while you did it, in comparison to running or being in the gym. Not only that, but the minute you stopped you were instantly cooling down...so good! Now, however, it will be back to long runs up the Swiss Alps...which actually doesn't sound that bad when I say it like that.

In Milan: Tonight we found heaven...or at least what any bargain hunting person on a travel budget considers heaven. After not having eaten since 8am, due to train rides, visa card dramas, and hotel check-ins, we did a quick amount of research before deciding it was time to have a quick look round Milan and hunt out somewhere for dinner. Now our Google research told us that there are bars in Milan which will give you free food with a drink purchase...'too good to be true', is exactly what we thought too. However, we were wrong. This is actually legitimate! Being Kiwi's and from a culture where nothing is for free, we did what we felt was our duty, and did not ask for a glass of tap water with a dash of lemon, but purchased an actual beer and wine. Sitting down at the table with our drinks, we were told by the waiter to go help ourselves to the food. Now don't start picturing a couple of sloppily put-together finger foods...no this was more comparable to a Christmas pot-luck dinner. They had pasta, salads, frank and beans, (which much to Ben's amusement, was my favourite), chips, quiche, pizza, fruit, dessert...and more. No we could not believe our eyes, or our good luck at this most wonderful find on a budget, and just when we were in full hunger pang mode! Being that I remember my family sharing stories at their good luck at the races one day when they found a room full of food and drinks which they assumed were free, only to be promptly kicked out, I was very polite in my tiny helping, and began to worry about Ben going up for his second, larger helping, to which he assured me he had seen others do. He was right. People literally had come in, (students I presume), bought a juice for 2 Euro, and had their full of dinner! I was cautious in my approach to a meagre second plate, but still am proud to say that I claimed enough of the bargain to make up for my expensive wine. I could only think how much my brothers and cousins up north would have got amongst this deal had they been here! This one is for you guys!!

Well...what else to do in Milan...we are possibly going to see 'The Last Supper' by Leo Da Vinci, and I will most definitely strut my stuff down the catwalk...just for Andhy Blake! Then we are on to Switzerland to herd some goats on one of the Alps...actually I think it is horses we will be herding...but close enough!

Monday 13 September 2010

Venice and Being a New Aunty...

Well this is coming to you from a new Aunty on the Schuurman side. And yes, I am just slightly excited at this!! I have seen photo's of my gorgeous wee niece...and she is just the most adorable wee thing!! I think she is a good mix of Dam and Lanz...being that depending on the photo, depends on who she looks like...and I do have to agree with my wee bro, she most definitely has Lanz wee button nose!! Too too cute! Unfortunately, my little niece has done nothing to dispel my desire for kids...rather the complete opposite...if I was clucky and wanting kids before...it is only worse now!! I am truly in love with the wee munchy...I could eat her she is so yummy!

For those of you who may have seen on facebook, the reference to myself as Aunty Lubie...I am now going to clear the matter of your curiosity up. If this name continues within the family...as I unfortunately am most sure that it will...the poor child needs to know that her Aunty Joe, (as I will always refer to myself), is not some dodge, (the nickname could have a somewhat unseemly meaning when the poor child reaches her teens), but rather, had a horrid nickname thrust upon her as she innocently put lipgloss on her lips, one lovely afternoon at a family lunch. This would normally be an unimportant event, but unfortunately for myself, I have the raucous, joking-around, hassling type brothers, who decided from that moment on I would be known as lip-lube to the family. This name was a keeper, (Yay!). And hence the name was shortened to a more effortless calling-length of Lubie. And the joy of facebook is that this name is not limited to my immediate family, and those unfortunate friends who happen to be present during family gatherings, but only the whole world in which I associate myself! So now that the matter has been cleared, and you are all most definitely in my camp, sympathising in the awful things that brothers thrust upon us, I will move on to more travel blogging. :-)

Leaving Rome, we booked ourselves tickets on the overnight train to Venice. Unfortunately our budget did not stretch far enough to allow us into one of the cabins with beds, and we were therefore we found ourselves in a tiny cabin filled with four others. Despite having presumed otherwise, we were not sitting next to each other, but opposite. The reason for this we quickly discovered. To get ourselves comfortable, we had to pull the bottom of our seats out making it possible to lie slightly horizontal. The only problem with this was that your seat, touched the seat of the person in front of you...explaining why you sat opposite your partner. This was relatively, (and I do mean ONLY relatively), comfy for me...being that I was shorter, I spread my legs out on top of Ben and got some semblance of sleep. Ben however, being that much taller, could not stretch out, and when he did have his feet my way, I had to half lie on them, (as they were too heavy to rest on top of me), and this did not last long before I had cramp and we both had to move. So the poor guy ended up sleeping most of the night with me sprawled out like a child half over him. Despite the wriggling round and broken sleep, the time passed quickly, and before we knew it, it was 5am and we were in Venice. A couple of coffees later and we were ready to attempt the day!

Venice...one of my top three places in the world to visit! Now I had heard from many a mouth, that Venice was a let-down, smelly, boring, expensive and generally disappointing. I, however, totally disagree! This has been my favourite place in the world so far. I had always imagined what a city that has canals instead of streets might look like...and it has lived up to every expectation, and every beautiful photograph I had. It is just gorgeous! We spent most of yesterday wandering around and taking a million photos, (not unusual for us). Ben, who I think has a map for every city in the world implanted in his head, actually got lost! That is truly a first! Me, who since leaving the grid of Christchurch, has no sense of direction what-so-ever, followed him round, innocently believing him when he told me he knew where he was. One would think, that my trust in his incredibly accurate sense of direction, would have been questioned, when he led us to a dead end, (the ocean, at the end of the island), but alas no, I followed him still. Dead end number two had him lead me down a narrow street, which ended in a doorway to another canal. This was the point where I told him, that Venice had beaten him and his perfect sense of direction and that I was going to ask someone the way to the bus station...but being a male, Ben did not approve of this idea, and assured me he would get us there. Which he did, I have to admit, after over an hour of seemingly aimless wandering. Whether he actually knew the general direction, or he was just determined to overcome the challenge, I will never know, but I do pride myself of playing the part of the good wife, and leaving him in control!

So, checked into a camping ground with a gym and pool, (both of which we have made the most of already, despite being eaten alive by mossies in the gym), and in an upgraded room with an en-suite, thanks to Ben working his magic with the receptionist, we are ready for day two in Venice, where I will attempt to work my magic on a gondola punter!

Sunday 5 September 2010

Barcelona to Rome

So tonight Ben and I went into the centre of Barcelona for a bit of sightseeing and some dinner. We went to the 'supposed to be, but not quite', 'happening' main street, and were just slightly disappointed at the lack of buzz or people...I guess the crowds of London ruin anyone in terms of what the word 'busy' means. There seemed to be little going on with the exception of one queue reaching out the door of a theatre and winding its way round the street corner. We decided on a relatively cheap place to eat and enjoyed a meal. Now at the end of our meal we were approached, inside the restaurant, by a man selling flashing, highlighter sunglasses. This did not at all strike me as strange, as just at the very moment I had finished my sandwich and smoothie, I though to myself, 'that meal was great, but without some flashing, highlighter sunglasses to finish, it is just not quite complete'! Now one does have to wonder at the reason for this particular choice of sale item, and the particular time of day, (or should I say night), at which the seller decided to make his wares known to the public. Does he often make a purchase just as a couple puts their knives and forks down after a meal, inside a restaurant? Especially a couple who look so little like tourists, with Ben's not-at-all Sweedish looking tan, blue eye's and sun blonded hair. Is it that one, late in the evening, is pondering the next day's beach plans, and is thinking that the best way to accompany their bared Euorpean bodies, is with some flashing, highlighter sunglasses? Well, after all this it is needless to say that these lovely flashing, highlighter sunglasses unfortunately did not make it into my purse, as no matter how hard I tried, I just could not picture myself checking out the sights of Barcelona over the next few days wearing a pair...although I am pretty sure I can convince Ben next time we are approached after a meal, that they are a must have for any Sweedish tourist!.

So it turns out that the street we had actually spent the night wandering up and down was not La Rambla, the main street after-all....hence the lack of business. We did, however finally find the correct street, which was in fact buzzing with atmosphere and full of markets and street performers...very fun! It might be best if we read the street signs before we make judgement in the future I think.

So last night we moved up a class, by flying from Barcelona to Rome. But then when you hear the airline with which we flew, you will realise that Derby was most definitely the one up a class in comparison. Ryanair was the flight company of our choice due to it's ridiculously cheap fares...which we will not complain about. The problem with this airline is that you are only allowed one carry on, per person and that does not mean a mini trolley case, a handbag, and a camera, (as I would take it to mean), it literally means one item...so obviously you are not going to make that item your camera! This also means that any luggage you want to check in has to be paid for on top of your fare...and depending on the weight depends on the price. Now due to the fact we had no bags while in Derby, we had to buy suitcases specifically for our travelling future. And me being the practical one I am, due to the fact we already have decent large suitcases, and large packs at home, I could not justify the purchase of any more. My suggestion therefore was to by a small carry on trolley bag each, (of which we have none), and one large, lightweight bag to check on...aaah...you can see the money we will save already. So emptying our hire car in Barcelona we managed to fit all our possession into the small carry on's and the duffel bag, (sending the rest home in boxes). However we did not account for how much all this one duffel bag would weigh. When we got to the check-in, we realised we were hugely overweight, by two kgs, (at 10 Euro a kg, it is hugely overweight). So being sneaky, as we most definitely are, we layered ourselves up in shirts, boots and jackets, (yes we were aware how completely not suspicious this looked in the 35 degree heat). Then after being sure we had maybe removed two kgs, or close to it, and hoping they would let us away with the rest we put our bag on to be weighed. Now being that I am not the quietest person on the planet, I noticed that for some reason, our few clothes seemed to have dropped the weight by a good 10kgs, and began to announce this loudly to Ben, saying that it can't be right. Under his breath he told me very politely to 'shut-up' as he had purposely placed it on the side and not completely on the scale. His poor stupid wife ruining his cunning plan. This being said, he got away with his sneakiness, only to find out as the suitcase rolled up the escalator that he hadn't needed to be, as we were actually within the correct weight we had paid for.

We are now in Rome, and LOVING it! Italy is actually everything people say it is! Every street you turn down in Rome has some gorgeous church or ancient ruin! We spent the whole day walking through the city towards Vatican city, only to get kicked out once we got there cos my skirt was not of appropriate length, meaning we will have to attempt it all again tomorrow. We awed at the size of the Colloseum, and tried to give ourselves halo's through the hole in the roof at the Pantheon. And to finish a perfect, if tiring, day we sat El Fresco, eating the most divine pasta and pizza!

Thursday 2 September 2010

Farewell Derby...

So insurance decided that 2,385 Euro was far too much to pay to fix our wee Darb Darbs, (as Ben had nicknamed him), due to the fact that we had paid a mere £750 pounds to purchase him. Some people just don't recognise a good thing when they see it. I mean did they take into account the purchases of all Derby's added 'extra's', (drawers, cubby holes, double bed and mattress), and the time it took us to turn him into Holmes Hotel...getting paid mechanics wages of course, (£40 an hour)? Had these things been taken into account I think they would have recognised the foolishness of their decision, and paid the meagre 2,385 Euro's, knowing that Derby had at least a year and a half of great travelling times left in him. Who would deprive such a hard-working lad his owed holidays? I have to say it was a slightly emotional time for me clearing our stuff out of Derby and leaving him behind. My last glimpse of him was the lovingly made New Zealand sticker proudly displayed on his back window, (come to think of it, we might have wanted to remove it and leave just the GB sticker on, due to the circumstances...we don't want to give NZ'ers a bad name!)
So this being said, we have finally left the small town, in which we quickly became locals at the several of the cafes, and Castellon, where we received Derby's terrible news, and are now hotelling it in Barcelona before we fly to Rome.

Now I did think to myself that it is probably the wisest idea for Ben and I to use public transport and avoid any form of driving, being that two weeks was the threshold of our good luck on European roads...and I did think this right up until the time we decided to make the most of the free hire car our car insurance would pay us. So we are back on the road...this time in a left-hand drive car, even more abnormal to drive than Derby, a right-hand drive, on the wrong side of the road, (according to us Kiwi's)...trying to leave the past behind us and once again experience all the joys travelling has to offer.

Our first night in Barcelona was really something quite divine! Being that we are trying to stinge out of as much spending as possible when it is not necessary, after driving round for about two hours we decided that rather than paying ridiculous prices for a hotel, we would relive Derby moments and sleep in the car. Now to be honest this was probably the moment I most missed Derby...a tiny four door Citroen is not quite the same as a double bed in the back of a people mover. We had our seats down as far as they would go, yet still were sitting partially upright. I was definitely in the better position being shorter than Ben, as I could still sleep on my side with my legs curled up...Ben had to kind of sit/Lie on the chair on his back all night. Another thing which we found to be a problem with the size, was not the lack of room, but the quick build up of heat. After an hour Ben and I were both sweating terribly, and it took much convincing on my part for him to open all the windows a small amount so that we wouldn't die of overheating in our sleeps, (Ben is always very safety conscious). This made a huge difference, and nestled amongst all our belongings from Derby, we managed to get a semi-full nights sleep...or at least I did. There is nothing quite like shutting your eyes knowing that you are protected by plates and pots round your head, clothes splayed under your feet, and spices, cooking oil, gas cooker and a gas canister, all next to your face to make for a good nights sleep.

Now I hate to admit it, and know, before I even start this next paragraph, that I am by no means a supporter, but McDonald's has truly been our lifesaver on this trip. Before you start picturing Ben and I waddling back home after our two month holiday, I am not talking about the food. McDonald's has this wonderful little thing called 'free wifi', and to say that Ben and I have scavenged as much of this as possible would be the understatement of the year! Let's just say that 10 coffees (Yes Mcdonald's actually does decent coffee in Europe, and 'yes again', we are too stingy to buy any food), has paid for a good 15-20 hours worth of internet! McDonald's has been responsible for saving us several Euro on hotels, hire car's and flights! Not to mention Ben's joy at being able to watch the All Blacks play South Africa in the Tri Nations final, (I do think the Spanish wondered at his mental state when shouting for the whole restaurant to hear each time we scored though). We are truly thankful! I don't think, however, that they will use our names as examples of how 'free wifi' has been a benefit to the company!

Saturday 28 August 2010

Heat

Yesterday I literally felt the most heat I have ever felt in my life. As it turns out it was 45 degrees Celsius, a temperature that I have never been subject to before in my meagre life. Ben and I have been stuck in what we have come to know as The Hottest Town in the World, (waiting to get Derby to a mechanic), and have had nothing to do but wander around aimlessly and hang with the locals, who just seem to stare, whisper to themselves, and laugh at everything we ask in English or mime to them. I have never felt more like an outsider. I don't think this is your usual tourist town, (I can't see why not, I mean it has so much to offer, 3 cafés, 2 mechanics, a garage, and 3 banks, and lovely holiday weather - if you are a camel - ...a hub of activity). And due to the fact that Ben and I are just sitting around, I can see why the locals point and whisper, they are probably dying with curiosity as to why we would be wasting our holiday here, me typing away on the laptop, and Ben drawing pictures on my phone.

Anyway, after a few hours in one café, we decided to go for a walk through the town and sus it out. Now normally this would be a wonderful idea for a tourist...what better way to spend your time than taking photo's of the small villages and local tourist attractions, (which I mentioned previously). The minute we stepped outside we were hit with the heat. Now by heat I mean it literally felt like we had, (I know it's cliché), stepped into an oven. Ben said it is like a heater has been turned on surrounding your body. Instantly the sweat starts pouring. Nothing I can write can capture that feeling until you have experienced it for yourself. Then a breeze comes...oh how nice is a breeze usually...not this type of breeze...it is like a fan heater, just blowing all he lovely heat right over you. We quickly make our way to the shadow of buildings...the temperature does not even drop one degree. It is too hot to move, and where are we going to go, so we sit ourselves on the concrete in the shade of a building...surely the concrete will offer some cool relief...but alas, the concrete is almost as hot as the air itself. We jokingly discuss going for a run! Literally the only relief are the air-conditioned cafés, so we make our way to the second one.

By 6pm, the heat has barely diminished, we make our way to café number three.

By 11pm when we finally make our way to bed after hot solar showers, it is still sticky and hot and sleeping in the van can be compared to taking a nap in a sauna. I am surprised we sleep at all!

La Tomatina...and other stuff

La Tomatina....well what can I say....it literally is the most CRAZY experience I have ever had. To start with, after a 6 hour drive in the ridiculous heat, (which Ben managed to sneakily get his way out of by ensuring that the sun was directly facing my side of the car at all times, swapping driving just as the sun was changing sides...although he denies this was his plan), we were initially surprised as to the seemingly lack of crowds for such a large event. After finding our way to the town centre, we easily found the street in which the tomato fight would take place...it was a narrow street shadowed by two story houses on each side, and each house was completely covered from head to toe in massive tarpaulins. Down the end of one street was an A & P Show style fair. Although not busy, the air was buzzing with excitement and celebration. Families had set up trestle tables covered in white paper all along the street and were having dinner and Sangria. The first highlight of this event was walking past a man chilling out on one corner casually putting out the vibe for any woman walking by, munching on a raw onion, like it was an apple...not at all bizarre! I doubt he picked up too many girls in this manner.
The actual day of the festival was really just a morning. From before sunrise hoards of people began piling into the tiny town, wearing the bare minimum, thick sneakers, goggles and even a few shower caps. Each person had a Sangria in their hand seemingly oblivious to the early morning hours. Once we all packed, and I do mean packed, into the strez\




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mid blog...mid thought...I look up and see a car heading straight towards us...I scream...we swerve left, then right...then crash! 'Shit'...is about all that came out of my mouth at the time!

Ummm....so we just crashed Derby, or should I say, Ben crashed...as I was blogging at the time and didn't realise what was going on till we were mid crash. I guess you are curious as to what happened. Well, our left wheel had been playing up for the last few days, and we had had the tie-rod replaced but the noise had continued...a kind of thuck thuck thuck...being that it was on my side I was sure the wheel was about to fall of at any moment and kill us both...this was not the case, and at times I wish I had a tad more car knowledge so that I might not fret about things not likely to happen. It turns out our CV joint was needing replacing. Being that the noise was not too bad we decided to drive to Barcelona and get it fixed there while we did some sightseeing for a few days. Packed up and on our way we had got about 30 minutes out of Valencia when the noise started sounding worse...and my knowledge of what the problem was did not still my thoughts of wheels falling off at any moment. To distract myself I decided to blog about La Tomatina.

Ben was worried about the CV joint and decided to pull over and check it out...now being that naturally we drive on the left side, and being that Ben was completely distracted by the terrible noise of poor Derby's left wheel, he did what any man having been driving for 25 years would do...pulled out onto the road without thinking...unfortunately for us, we were not in the UK, or in NZ, meaning that the side we pulled out on was the wrong side, and within a few moments we were driving head on towards another car. Being that Ben was thinking about the wheel, his first thought was not that he was on the wrong side, but that the other car was. This being his first thought he did what anyone would do and swerved slightly to the left till it suddenly dawned on him that he was the one in the wrong and corrected himself by swerving to the right. Unfortunately for us, the other car had decided that the only way to avoid us was to swerve in the same direction...making it a head on crash.
I tell you...trying to sort out the details of a crash with Spanish Police and Spanish citizens and Spanish road-side safety team is not the easiest process in the world. There was much sign language, much charades, much writing down...but we got there in the end.

Originally we though our car had not been damaged other than cosmetic, but after deciding that we would drive out of the tiny town we were in to a larger one to find a mechanic, we soon noticed that the large puddle of water under the front of our car was in fact not from the solar showers on the roof, but the radiator. So we are here, in Alamenara, the tiniest town in the world, it is the weekend, everything is closed, it is 45 degrees, there is not a drop of water to be seen, and high on coffee, we are making our way between 3 cafe's to keep ourselves amused till Monday. Will we be able to get the car fixed at a price that insurance is prepared to pay? Will we be able to continue on our journey with the mighty Derby? Or, will we have to part way's with our mobile hotel and continue on foot, trains and buses, and try to make our money still stretch the full two months due to the fact that home is not an option thanks to Hayley, our sub-letter till the 8th of October? Oh the questions! Not quite the dream we had set out on!

So...back to La Tomatina...'and I do mean packed', into the street. Ben and I had found ourselves a spot back against one of the walls. Now this was not the original spot we had headed to, but due to the movement of the crowd, with which we could do nothing but be carried along by, we ended up squashed back against a wall. I found myself very intimate with 2 Asian girls, an English girl, a young Spanish girl and her father, and not far away Ben. You might wonder how I could be so close to all those people, well just picture arms, underarms, heads, hair, shoulders, all pushing into my body at some point. I found at times I literally could not breath...but thankfully at these times when I called to Ben, he managed to shove people away, (well sort of away, meaning they were digging themselves halfway into my body rather than as far in as they could go), and give me some breathing time. Once we were all packed in this manner, the cannon went of signalling the start of the event, and they brought the trucks through the streets dropping tomatoes on everyone. How exactly they brought the trucks through the packed crowds is beyond me, but I do know at once point, in front of us, a girl got caught under one trucks wheel. The breathing stopped till the trucks passed and then the tomato throwing began! People from the second stories of some houses threw welcome 'Agua' – water – onto us, a nice refreshment from the sweat, tomato smell and the heat of the beating sun. Within roughly two hours the event was finished, everyone and everything was a pinky-red. Out came the fire hoses to wash down the houses and people scrabbled to push themselves in front of them. It was messy, smelly, wet, sweaty, cramped, and a whole heap of fun!

Wednesday 25 August 2010

A hard Day's work

So I had the bright idea the other day, that we would hand wash our clothes, rather than pay the ridiculous 13 Euro per 5 kg...I know now, in hindsight, it wasn't my smartest thought! To complete the perfection of my incredibly bright idea, Ben had the even brighter one of doing our washing in the heat of the day so that it would dry much quicker...now in theory, this truly is a bright idea...it has simply one flaw...neither of us pictured doing this in a rubbish filled truck-stop in 32 degree heat, or that it would take not the mere 3 hours we had predicted, but a much larger 6. I was the lucky one to be left to do the hand-washing on this lovely sunny day, as Ben found himself other chores to do, such as buying pegs and buckets, and filling up water canisters, (don't get me wrong, they were jobs in need of doing). Unfortunately we had a small bucket, half the size of your average sink in which to do the washing. So scrubbing away, one item at a time, I was finished in a mere 4 hours! Yes, we had built up nearly 2 weeks worth of washing to clean, (I think we need to be less fussy, and wear something more than a day at a time). The blisters on my knuckles from scrubbing pay tribute to a good days work. Ben did help, and rinsed everything out for me, as my strength at wringing 50 items of clothing had waned slightly after my 4 hours scrubbing. I have to say, that after all this, I truly respect the work our ancestors had to do daily...and they had families of 6+ back then...good job, I applaud you!

Now you would think this would be story enough, but alas there is more. This truck-stop, unfortunately, was not as isolated as we had originally though. To begin with, people driving by and laughing at the fact my husband had left me on the road side to clean his dirty clothes was all I was subject to, until one man decided to pull over, (at this point Ben had gone to fill up a water canister, and I was alone), and proceeded to ask me 'Quanto Questa?', ('How much?' in English), I said I did not speak Spanish and what was he refferring to...he then asked again 'Quanto Questa?', and mentioned something about 'Chika's', (girls). At this point I got worried and quickly mentioned my husband who would be back in a second. To this he quickly said 'sorry', and looking rather sheepish and embarrassed he drove off...he drove past me again, yelling out how sorry he was. Now I can only conclude two things from this...either he was wanting to pay me to do some of his washing...or another service which I am sure needs little explaining, for those of you with an imagination geared to go that way! Ben and I laughed that we could have been living in the lap of luxury if I had stayed out there a bit longer!

On another note, I did hear a rumor that a few of you are concerned with our showering habits while we are travelling...just to reassure you, we are cleaning ourselves daily. As much as we like to bath in our own juices and snuggle up to each other practically eating each others odours, we have decided not to go down that road this trip! Between our solar shower, the showers at the beach and a bucket of soapy water and a flannel, we are making quite sure that neither of us is getting a 2 day stink on...I mean let's face it, we have to sleep in our very 'close quarters', and I am not keen to be sniffing boys underarms all night. So for those of you that had our hygienic well-being at heart, be not concerned...we are as clean as can be for a camping trip! :-)

Sunday 22 August 2010

Becoming European

So it is official...I have embarked on my journey to becoming a European successfully. My first experience joining the throngs of topless women on the beach in Spain was a somewhat drawn out process. Due to the fact that in my head I had prepared myself for this very moment, I was surprised at my complete reluctance when it actually came to doing the deed. Sitting on my towel, bikini top in place, I spent a good half hour discussing with Ben the pro's and con's of removing the latter. Being the modest Kiwi girl I am, and having been brought up in a rather strict Christian family, baring any part of one's body in public seemed quite, shall we say, 'naughty'. I felt that God might, at any moment, strike me down for even considering to do so, but Ben's lack of concern for the matter was my deciding factor...that and the fact that looking around, I couldn't see how it actually was naughty. It wasn't a sexual thing, (how could it be when a good many older European women, sags and all were among the throng of topless), and thinking to myself I realised that many cultures bear breasts in public after all. The moment I first removed my bikini top I have to admit was one of my most vulnerable...I still couldn't shake the Kiwi modesty...and I couldn't lie down on my towel quick enough, as though being on my back, breasts exposed to the public would be less conspicuous. But after refusing to look up for about 10 minutes in hopes that no one would notice me, I relaxed, and have to say, I am now a full advocate for the tradition, (Not that I plan on introducing it to New Zealand...:-)). I have to admit, I can see the benefits, firstly there are no hideous tan lines, (well except for me due to the fact that I have never exposed that part of myself to the sun...spot the newbie on the beach), the ties at the back on your top don't make it uncomfortable when you are lying on your back tanning, and you don't have to constantly re-adjust everything to make sure it's in place. What more could a woman want? Ben finds it quite amusing that now I am flitting myself about without a worry...well...as they say...'When in Rome...'

Driving from France we did not encounter any boarder control, and due to our deportation from Columbia, Ben and I were just slightly worried that either, we actually were not in Spain and Bonnie had directed us wrong, (One would think the fact people were speaking Spanish and everything was written in Spanish would have been enough of a hint), or that we had driven the wrong way...maybe a route for locals only since we were too stingy to take the toll road, and had missed the actual boarder. After clarifying that you do not actually need a stamp in your passport to be in Spain, we settled into life amongst the Spaniards. Ben's first few comments were along the lines of “I miss France,” and, “Spain is not as cool”, till we went for a walk along the San Sebastian Peninsula to find one of the most beautiful beaches and towns we have ever seen. It is fun and lively and hot! They even have an old fashioned fair which runs each night. And the Spanish know how to do fireworks. It was like they had stocked up 10 years worth and had decided to see how many they could let off in one go. Not that we were complaining...and they have put on a 20 minute display every night since we have been here. I have decided that humans are like moths...put on some pretty lights and we will come fluttering! But we have come to the conclusion that we LOVE Spain.

This morning, after something wet having spilt in our van making just a little smelly, we decided to park up, unload everything, dry and air it out. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to us, we had decided to do this on private land, and were constantly having fingers shaken at us, and being told in Spanish and French that we could not be there for a picnic...but to air out our car was allowed? I think they just couldn't be bothered waiting around for us to reload everything and leave. At one point, during our air out, Ben had taken the last of the toilet paper and headed into the bushes for some private time. After a 'small' amount of time I hear much rustling and what I think is a scared voice yelling for help. Poor man had ended up with the runs and two squares of paper to mop up the mess. How he escaped the situation unscathed, came down to a bit of Kiwi ingenuity, bushman-ship, (his several years in scouts), and some very handy 'handy towels'. Needless to say the supermarket was our next stop.

All in all, we are looking decidedly tanned/burnt, full of paella and ice-cream, and bewildered by the lights and sights, loving life as a Spaniard.

Saturday 21 August 2010

Farewell France...

I have decided that the French actually do live up to their stereo type. In every village we have driven through, every second person on the street has been carrying a baguette. They actually do cycle everywhere, little French bikes with baskets on the front carrying their baguettes, and today, despite it being 26 degrees I saw one man wearing a beret! Don't you love it when a culture delivers what it promises to deliver! The only stereotype that I have to disagree with is that they are rude. We have not come across a rude French person yet, in fact, in comparison to living in England I would call them incredibly considerate and polite! Not to mention they just sound sexy when they talk. They could be swearing at me for all I know, and I would simply smile and gush at their every word. I am guessing, due to my gushing and blank looks they think I am slightly retarded. And as drivers, they are the most patient I have come across...not that I have done much of the driving, as I think Ben is a little nervous about letting me behind the wheel due to all the moaning I did about driving on the right side of the road before we left! They actually let people into queues, and are happy to obey the road rules. Again, something not so common in England. I figure all this loveliness of culture is due to the pastry patisserie s on every corner...I mean who can be bitter and grumpy when your belly is full of sweet yummyness?

This morning Ben and I used our Solar showers for the first time...although I wouldn't say that they had absorbed any of the solar heat, as the water was not far off freezing! After filling them yesterday morning and carting them round in the car all day, which we discovered they were not designed for due to the wet carpet, we decided that the roof is a much more effective way of carting them round...and I am sure that they will absorb much more solar heat if they are actually exposed to the sun. So getting back to the shower...let's just say it was definitely an experience in nature...in every sense of the word. We found a small grassy area which was slightly wooded, about 5 metres down from a main road. Ben hooked the shower up to a tree, and I was the lucky first in. Ben assured me, after I made him check from every angle, that my naked rear could not be seen by the passing traffic. Not really able to breath due to the cold water, I still managed to wash my hair, although in my urgency to get out of the cold, and away from the insects which had gathered for the show, I mixed up my shampoo and leave-in conditioner, and so my hair is now feeling rather sticky. All this aside, it was definitely worth all the drama, for the fresh cool feeling after!

So both smelling fresh we embarked on a new day, and had our first experience of European beaches. Innocently adoring the sights the beach had to offer we were soon confronted with many pairs of perky breasts...and then some very unperky pairs, and a few below regions to follow, (both men and women). We, being from sheltered New Zealand, thought we had embarked on a nudist beach, only to discover that this is likely just a common sight at European beaches due to the large number of families out enjoying the water. I was most surprised at an older lady wearing only a cropped t-shirt, casually walking to place her rubbish in the bin, (I guess that everyday tasks need to be done, whether clothed or not), ruining my previous idea that topless/nude beaches limited people to lying on their backs for a good tan, not wandering around willy nilly, (excuse the pun). So apparently European's don't just limit themselves to topless at beaches...I mean why would one put up with tan lines when there is no need. I have informed Ben, that my goal by the end of our tour is to have indulged in every aspect of European culture...well as much as my modest Kiwi nature will allow, meaning I will not be exposing my lower regions. Ben however, does not feel this same urge and therefore will remain togged. However, I think the day in which I embark on this new journey of becoming European will be a photo-less day.

Tuesday 17 August 2010

Nights Like These...

It's nights like these I love; sitting in my camp chair, the sun has set, it's a warm evening with a cool breeze, I can just see the first stars to appear in the sky. Ben is cooking spaghetti bolognese on our gas cooker. I can hear the camping cookware rattle about as he prepares the dinner, brightly coloured plastic plates, that would only ever be used in the outdoors, scraping cheap metal pots and pans. We have the bare minimum, but it is enough. It's like hearing the sound of a tent unzipping, I am filled with nostalgic thoughts of happy childhood camping memories. There is nothing quite like sitting outdoors, smelling nature around you while you go about routine activities, to make the ordinary fun! It is definitely something I plan to ensure my children experience. Although the work and effort involved in this kind of holiday for just two, makes me so appreciate what my parents went through for the 6 of us children. This has become our nightly routine, and as Ben just pointed out, and most likely his comment is due to the fact that it is his turn to cook, and I am the one sitting in luxury, that this is not really something one will enjoy after 2 months, and settling into a town for a couple of days and being able to eat out will be quite a treat.

So far, our travelling expenses, due to the fact that we have been driving a few hours each day, leave us with little extra expenditure, and so other than baguette's for lunch, and dinner ingredients, we have had little more than a coffee extra. Hence the reason for Ben's comment of anticipation towards no more cooking in this manner. I myself am still in the honeymoon phase of our camping meals, and other than the annoyance of having to lug everything from the car to our cooking destination each evening, I enjoy the process.

Today involved not much sightseeing, as we were excited at the prospect of free internet with our McDonald's coffee's, and therefore enjoyed at least an hour of internet with each of our 3 coffees! It can only be described as relief, the feeling of once again being in contact with the rest of the world through a computer, bringing to light my reliance on internet. As much as I enjoy camping, I am not designed to live a life of isolation, and camping must therefore contain certain worldly luxuries.

So far, our Sat Nav (whom we have named Bonnie, since that is the name of the lady who tells us where to go...geeky I know!), has not led us astray when finding a destination, with the exception of petrol stations. Three out of four times it will lead us to an empty lot, which obviously used to house a gas station. Meaning our precious last drops of gas get wasted in the hunt for more...I am thinking it is about time we bought a container to hold a little extra, just in case the Sat Nav is having a particularly bad day and leads us astray 4 out of 4 times.

Well, that about brings you up to date...I am sure I will have something of a little more interest to write when we reach our next major destination...San Sebastian. Talk then!

Monday 16 August 2010

The Journey So Far...

Well, packed and ready to go, we leave with 30 minutes up our sleeve to get to destination one in time! Jumping into Derby, (our trusty Chrysler, named after the town in the UK we bought him from), we set the Sat Nav for Dover, (the bottom of the UK where we are boarding the ferry to France), and head off. The back of Derby has been converted into shelving and a bed, and despite the fact that our heads nearly touch the roof while in the bed, we are confident in it's comfort for the next two months...I mean lets face it, a wardrobe and as many comforts of home as possible, or a lower bed and little claustrophobia...not even a close toss-up! Two minutes down the road, and ready to turn into the tunnel over the Thames, we find it is shut...at 9 oclock at night, due to renovations! Welcome to London transport! A 35 minute detour and our enthusiastic start has dwindled to a couple of arguments and much stress. Still...according to the Sat Nav, we will be there with 2 minutes to spare for last check in...we have faith...we will make it! All faith is quickly dashed when the van is no longer able to change into top gear and we are heading down the motorway in 3rd gear, revving at 5000 revs! More arguments follow as we discuss the fact that the gear box is likely stuffed and will cost us a massive chunk of our holiday budget to get it fixed! The holiday is doomed before we have even left the country...Yip...that's the Holmes's travelling in style for ya, seamless beginnings!! :-) Still...we troop on and running 15 minutes late for the ferry, manage to drag poor Derby, desperately out of oomph, onto the ferry! We are actually the last vehicle on, and within seconds the ferry has closed it's enormous back door and is leaving the dock!

First night in France, and after some driving around in hunt of a relatively safe, yet dark and private place to park our self-made caravan, we snuggle down, noses to the roof, for some much needed sleep at 3am! It takes me most of the first night to realise that just because I can see out of Derby's tinted windows, it does not mean that anyone can actually see in. My night is filled with dreams about someone peering in at me through the window, and knowing that Ben, the darling that he is, will be no help to me at all, as once his pretty little head has hit the pillow, he wouldn't hear a freight train going by, I would be left to defend myself. And on the unlikely event of him actually waking to an intruder, it would be to a sleep-talking, sleep-walking state, he might then greet the intruder by calling him Stevo, and opening the door to him. The fact that I awoke to Ben trying to open the door in his half asleep state several times throughout the night, did little to ease my discomfort! Waking in the morning, Mission 1; Day 1, was to figure out what was wrong with Derby, and after being assured, (well, we are hoping that is what we were bieng assured, due to the fact that we were interpreting our no knowledge of French into some semblance of English), that the gear box wasn't broken and that there is likely just some connection that has gotten old and needs replacing and to just take it easy. We press on!

Day's 2-4 are just slightly more successful with sombre visits to the D-Day beaches, and Normandy Memorial, (the one at the beginning of Saving Private Ryan, with the white crosses), followed by Le Mont St-Michel, an absolutely stunning old fashioned village on a tiny island, which we walked to braving the torrential rain. A good mix of awe and emotion. We unsuccessfully tried to break into a camping ground shower, stuffed ourselves with baguettes, drank mountains of far-too-strong coffee, mastered the use of our gas cooker with fried rice, and some interesting pasta/salami combo, and pretty much decided we want to buy a chalet in the French countryside.

Day's 5-onward, and we are looking forward to a proper shower, rather than sponge bath in the McDonald's toilets, and settling down in St Sebastian, Spain, to soak up the sun for a couple of days.

Tuesday 10 August 2010

The Holmes' Happenings

Well...I thought that I would keep you all up with the goss in the Holmes' household...and for you those of you who instantly though BABIES...no I am not pregnant, sorry to disappoint!! So, getting back to what I actually was going to tell you all...Ben and I are about to embark on our 2 month Road trip round Europe!! Now the reason I thought I would get you all up to date on our travel plans, is due to my latest goal in life to be a travel writer. (I seem to have run out of deep and meaningful things to write about due to my silent head as of late, leaving me no choice but to pursue another outlet for my writing cravings). And what better place to start than while actually doing some travelling! So, this being the long-term goal, (Joke's! It really isn't, but if I tell you all that it is I have a reason to get you all to read my travel updates), the short-term goal is to write a minimum of once every 4 days. (Do not be daunted at the large amount of blogs this will leave you to read...I do not expect your commitment to run quite that deep, and if it does, I promise I will try and make them interesting...no 'got up, chose what socks to wear, had breakfast, went into the city...blah blah blah'! :-)). Now to be honest I do see this as an achievable goal due to the fact that Ben and I will be living out of a van for that two months. Now when I say van, I am not talking about the large-not-much-short-of-a-bus Comby van that most people will embark on road trips in, I am talking about the small brethren-family-of-6 'people mover' you see on those frosty Saturday mornings at the Under 12's rugby. Now one might think we will get a bit claustrophobic being that neither of us are petite size 8's, but no, we truly love to feel close and intimate and be as much in each other's faces as possible! Getting back to my writing intentions, being that neither Ben nor I are massive clubbing fans, due to the fact that Ben doesn't like dancing much and I am getting old and rather nana-ish, I feel that our evenings will leave us with some time to do other after-dark activities, by which I mean, writing...for those of you who automatically thought I was referring to something else!

Well, that about brings you up to date on our plans for the next couple of months...that is, assuming Ben manages to get the bed and drawers built in the van, otherwise we will be camping out on car seats for two months, and no matter how much we enjoy each other's company, even we could not survive that!! I'll keep you posted!!

Wednesday 21 April 2010

Deported

Now I know that a lot of you think of me as a good girl. Most of my close friends, up until recent years, would have thought I was a picture of perfection. I never swore, drunk much, spoke only nicely of others...I had one friend tell me once that there was no one I didn't get on with, because I was so nice to everyone. It kind of makes me feel sick thinking about it now. Times have definitely changed! Not saying that I am a horrible person now, I am just a bit more real and don't feel the same extreme need to please everyone! Anyway, I thought I would share with you all a story of a very eventful time during one of my many travels through South America, which involves some people who very much disliked me, and my brother and husband.

Let me give you a little bit of background to this story so that you understand some of our reactions to the situation I am about to mention. Central and South America is nothing like New Zealand or even London for that matter. Back home, generally you will find that people on the whole have your best interest at heart. They do not set out to take advantage of you. During our travels, we discovered that this cannot be said for all countries of the world. Central and South American have the attitude that if you are white, you are wealthy, (in comparison to them we are), and therefore are worthy of being scammed out of as much of your money as possible. Time and time again we were overtly ripped off, and probably more often than we were actually aware of also.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, we travelled by sail boat through the San Blas Islands from Panama to Columbia. Now being that none of us spoke Spanish, and the boys attempts at it were hideously worse than mine, which were also rather pathetic, we were often reliant on the help of others to find our way around etc. As in every country, you obviously need to get an entry and exit stamp when you arrive and leave. As we were leaving Panama, Stephan, our sail boat Captain, put us in the right direction to get our exit stamp. That being done, he then, after much communication with the locals, put us in the direction of getting our entry stamp into Columbia. Now at the time, despite the fact we were aware it was unusual to be able to get an entry stamp into a country when you are not actually in that country, after having spent a week with our captain, drugs aside, we did trust Stephan as being a man of his word, and not being one to rip us off. After all, he had made this voyage many times before. So we gave our details to the lovely lady behind the desk at the immigration office, she stamped our passports, and we were set!

During our visit in Columbia, many a time were we stopped by the police, our passports checked, and sent back on our way. At this point, nothing was suspicious. Our problem arose as we tried to leave Leticia, a city at the bottom of Columbia, on the boarder of Peru and Brazil. We had flown in to Leticia from Bogata, the capital city of Columbia. Innocently we got our bags at the arrivals area of the airport and showed our passport to the immigration officer there. He immediately looked at our passports, screwed up his face, told us “No”, and shooed us away. We wondered what he was going on about as we made our way to the immigration office at the airport to get our exit stamps. Here was where the trouble began. Through much translation, we managed to pick up that the stamps in our passport were not legitimate Columbian entry stamps, and therefore we were in the country illegally. This being the case, the officers refused to give us an exit stamp. The moment it got suspicious, was about the time that they told us they would give us exit stamps for $100 American each. Now to put this into perspective, we had been living on about $30 American per day per person, and therefore this was a ridiculously large amount of money on our shoe-string budget. We started trying to tell them this was not reasonable as it had not been our fault. We had been told the stamps we had in our passports were correct, and if they were not entry stamps, why had the immigration office we got them at put them in our passports in the first place? Unfortunately this logic was lost on them, and the fee was then increased to $150 American each.

It was at this point that it all turned to custard! I had been sick for the last two days, and was not in good spirits. Ben and Aaron had both been in the runny club, (I will leave that to your imaginations), for over a week, leaving them in low spirits also, and we had all had about had our maximum share of rip-offs. So rather than politely dealing with the situation, as is always best when dealing with authority, we made our disapproval of the dishonest situation loudly and clearly known to not only the immigration officers, and most of the shop workers in the airport but many walkers-by also. This should have been where it ended, until Ben decided that he would take a photo of one of the dishonest immigration officers as evidence to use when we rang our embassy to sort the matter out, (which we planned to do). They would not let us ring the embassy, and reacted VERY strongly to the photo. I was at this point we were removed from the airport.

Deciding that we would take our chances in Peru without an exit stamp, we booked into our hostel for the night and were about to go out for dinner when six men turned up asking to see our passports. Obviously word spreads quickly in Leticia. We were then hauled off in the back of a truck to another immigration office to be 'dealt with'. They apparantly did not want us to try our luck in Peru and as we found out, had we tried our luck in Peru, we also would have had to pay a 'bribe'. Thanks to our English/Spanish speaking hostel owner, we were able to get ourselves deported, in preference to paying the large sum of money originally stated.

How different are things outside of Western Society! All in all, I am proud to say, my good-girl status can be officially scratched in favour of a rebellious Columbian deportee! Although I could have spiced the story up by adding some dodgy drug deal in there somewhere!!

Thursday 15 April 2010

Sail boat

How I love the sun!! Even more, is being near water when in the sun!! A sunny day lacks completion without a river, ocean, beach towel, picnic, friends or family, wine, and a barbecue to finish! I am missing the sun even more so these days, after having been truly spoilt with a 2 month holiday through Central and South America...now that is what I call sun!! I don't think I have been as tanned as I was on that holiday since I was a child, and miraculously turned into an Islander the moment summer hit, due to having the careless freedom of youth to waste away hours outside. Tans aside, the holiday itself was incredible. One of my favourite parts was a week sail boat cruise around the San Blas Islands, in the Caribbean. Now I do realise that the minute I mention the words sail boat cruise certain images are brought to one's mind. A large glamorous yacht, glorious fresh seafood, sail boat staff to wait on one, hand and foot, lazing hammocks...these images however, need not be conjured up in relation to our sail boat adventure. Picture, if you will, a very tiny, shouldn't-be-more-than-a-two-man, yacht. It 's weathered wooden frame is partly disguised by a half finished, home-made paint job. The sails themselves look tired and sagging. Everything about this boat, from the cutlery in the kitchen, to the thin, foam mattresses, is old, and re-done, again and again. This boat has been attacked by the most enthusiastic of self-made handymen...and it shows!

The cruise began, for my husband, my brother, and myself during dinner the night before our sea departure, when we met our German Sea-captain for the first time. Stephan. Tall, tanned, and all leg's and arms, he seemed friendly enough. His biggest concern, when discussing with us the impending voyage, was that we bought as much alcohol as possible before the only shop, in the small village we were staying, shut. We were to disappoint him with our alcohol purchases, as dinner, being of much more importance to us at the time, meant we didn't quite get to the shop before closing. Arriving early the next morning, as agreed upon, we sat on the shoreline for 20 minutes awaiting the arrival of our Sea-captain, who had slept in. Now admittedly, we should have recognised, the moment we saw Stephan paddle out to us, in the smallest, most dingy looking dingy we had ever seen, and try to convince us it would hold all four of us and our two months worth of luggage in one trip, that the cruise was not going to be the luxury affair we had dreamed of. But our imaginations, at this point, had been given much more time to conjure luxury, than reality had been given to hit. Thankfully, for the sake of our dry selves, and our luggage, a couple, who I am assuming, owned the larger, luxurious yacht next to the one we ourselves were about to embark, lent us their deluxe model, motor powered dingy, and we arrived at our sail boat not the least bit waterlogged. We were later to discover, that our suspicions about the overestimated weight in the small dingy, were correct, as we found ourselves very wet, and with a ruined camera, which apparently does not like sea water, when trying to paddle back from one of the islands, and this journey having been done baggage -free.

Once aboard, we met Stephan's lovely girlfriend, Mika, also German, and also, all legs and arms. After a cup of tea, we set sail. The next eight hours of this day were spent leaning over the side of the tiny yacht emptying the previously drunk tea from my stomach, as a gift to the ocean. And all I can remember about the day is being offered some marijuana to cure my sea-sickness. At this point, I realised we were in good hands with our stoned Sea-captain Stephan, in full control!

Our voyage over the next week, was most certainly eventful. We saw the most beautiful, deserted, islands which literally took one's breath away due to their picturesque divinity. We laughed at many a conversation had with our consistently stoned Captain, who loved to share his life theories, as only one thinking through a cloud of drugs can do. Our bodies became hideously eaten, as never before, by the invisible blood suckers hiding on the beaches at night. Discovering Stephan had quite a temper, the boys exercised their best negotiating skills, to ensure we would be able to have our money's worth of snorkelling and spear-gun-fishing fun. We caught fish. We ate fish. Of both the smallest and largest variety. Some fish, melting in our mouths like honey, some, mostly of the smaller variety, hard to find amongst the mouthful of bones. Not being prepared for one particular night's meal, Stephan bartered with a local from one island we stopped at, to buy and cook us a dry root, which tasted something akin to tree-bark, covered in sauce, telling us it was a cultural experience. We politely obliged his theory, and agreed, it most certainly was. We enjoyed cupful's of Mika's tea. And we lazed about on the beach or boat, sunning ourselves, and competing to be the most brown.

Is life not also like this sail boat journey. Full of times when the journey is rough and we are being chucked around seemingly unsure of where we are going, or if we are even heading in the right direction, vomiting over the side, praying for it to be over. Time's when we are unsure, not confident in our sail boat captain. When sometimes his theories on life make no sense at all, and he is seemingly speaking out of a cloud. Times when we feel we have been eaten alive and the pain, is unbearable, it is all we can see or feel. It is all we can think about. Yet there are also those other times, when the beauty of life simply takes your breath away. When there is nowhere else you would rather be. When everything around you seems perfect and you wouldn't change it for anything.

The thing that made my journey on the sail boat the joy that it was, was not only the experience itself, but those I was able to share it with, my husband and my brother. Life, and any journey, whether horrific or divine, is made what it is, by those who walk it with you.

Wednesday 14 April 2010

Night-time Drama's

So, I figured that I have done a lot of heavy, serious stuff for the last few posts. And considering I like to write about all the stuff that runs through my head, that is no surprise! However, I figured I would mix it up a little bit today, and talk about the night-time drama's of being married to one Mr Benjamin James Holmes. And for those of you, whose minds automatically go there...you know who you are...I am not talking about THOSE night-time drama's!

Now I don't know if you will all know, but my husband is a chronic sleep talker/walker/one-manned-motion-picture, during the night! Now to be honest, I truly love his early morning antics, as it is most definitely the cause of much laughter each morning as we recount the nightly events! Although it can cut into my sleep, meaning that in the last 2 1/2 years of marriage, I would have been lucky to get a dozen full nights sleep! No, this is an exaggeration, but you get the idea! When we were first married, I was often confused by the events that took place in our bed, as I was not used to this extremity of activity. I remember that at one point Ben, thinking I was a big black bull, was leaning over me, trying to decide how I got there. And when I awoke to his face directly above mine, got a fright, and promptly tried to question him as to what he was doing, he was very quick to turn over in bed and tell me nothing...as though his actions should not cause any confusion and he had been behaving perfectly normally. Over the last 2 years, Ben has saved me from falling rocks by attempting to push me out of the bed, encouraged me and the large audience in our bedroom, by clapping and cheering, given the thumbs up to my brother and his friends while on holiday, and had many many conversations with Stevo... apparently a very good friend of ours, whom I have never met!

I usually wake earlier than Ben for work, and on one morning in particular, I had got out of the shower and was by the bed turning on my hair-straighteners...I had not dressed at this point, and due to the fact that we have just returned from a holiday in South America, have quite obvious tan-lines...when I find Ben staring at me oddly. This was one of the only time's when I have not been able to tell straight away that he was still asleep, as his eyes usually give him away. He started saying to me, "No thank-you", (a polite boy, even in his sleep). I asked him what he meant but he simply kept repeating himself. At this point I realised I was talking to him in his sleep and asked him what he was talking about, to which he responded by pointing to my body and repeating, "No thank-you", (Luckily I am not easily offended, or I might have assumed that he thought I was hitting on him, and was rejecting my offer of wake-up sex), instead I started laughing and asked him why he didn't like me standing there naked, to which he looked me up and down with a very confused expression on his face, then realising I was telling the truth, he rolled over looking very silly, and pretended he had said nothing. As it turns out, he had thought I was standing in front of him covered in brown powder, and had offered to cover him with the powder also, to which he very politely replied, "No thank-you!"

But recently he has taken to rearranging the ornaments around our bedroom. I first noticed it a couple of weeks ago while we were Skyping friends of ours from home. Sitting next to the computer, on the desk in our room, were all the items from Ben's bedside table. Now being the neat freak that I am, I should congratulate myself in training him so well to the point of tidying in his sleep, although I doubt very much, that this was the cause of the movement. Usually Ben's night-time antics involve him rescuing or saving someone, being in some adventure in some jungle, or flying some plane. But the common theme is that he is the hero in each event. So to be honest it would not surprise me in the least if these items were actually some poor, helpless citizens he had saved from certain death, or possibly a litter of kittens he had rescued from a burning tree?

Ben has however, gone from moving the items from the bedside table and placing them at other locations in the room, to taking them into the bed with him. He awoke this morning, after dreaming that the bedside table was in fact an overhead luggage compartment in a plane, that he was given the duty of unpacking, to find all the various items from the table, in the bed with him. Being the sneaky man that he is, he then removed them from the bed before I awoke and noticed his odd behaviour, and placed them on the window sill...much less suspicious if you ask me!

Well, all in all, I do feel just a little bit smug that I am privilege to so much entertainment during the night, as not all women could boast such adventure while they sleep!