New York, New York!

Never before have I felt so familiar with a city that I've not yet set eyes upon. New York has existed in my conscious for so long that despite this being my first trip, I felt instantly at home in my surroundings. When I felt the ground rumble beneath me, I already knew it was the Metro. When I saw the steam rising from the sidewalks, I knew it was the drains. I wasn't even surprised to see the spiral staircases wrapped around each and every building; I already knew what they were for. All of my questions had been answered before I'd even voiced them. 

The only slight oddity was not seeing the familiar faces I'm so used to seeing roam these streets on my television screen; Brad Pitt, Courtney Cox, and Blake Lively were nowhere to be seen but there was at least one friendly face there to welcome us ; the lovely Hannah who had kindly offered to put us up during our stay. Hannah's little studio flat oozes New York City style with its vintage décor and exposed brick wall. Though it consists of just one room and a bathroom, it was perfect for the four of us to huddle in together and play SATC for a long weekend.

It's also situated directly opposite Chelsea Market so it made sense for that to be our first stop. This urban, underground court reminded me a lot of Brixton village with slightly less edge and a little more sparkle. We weaved in and out of the shops and stalls, picking up snacks, taking snaps and making note of the happy hours at each and every wine bar. Then, as if by a gravitational force, we found ourselves being pulled towards the flashing lights at the centre of Times Square. It’s absolutely mental; like Piccadilly Circus on ecstasy and we placed ourselves in the very centre in complete awe. The clock chimed eight but I have no idea how much time had passed before that point. We were completely lost in the madness.

After a brief visit to the gigantic Forever 21 in the square, we headed in the direction of the gigantic Christmas tree outside the gigantic Rockerfeller buiding for the turning on of the gigantic Christmas lights (all nine-thousand-and-ninety-something miles worth, ahem Sophie!) Unfortunately, we were also faced with gigantic crowds and never actually made it to the event, despite Bianca's best efforts at playing the 'I'm lost and British and speak like the Queen' card with the policemen guarding the entrance.

We turned away defeated, not all that fussed until the next morning when we heard whispers of Michael Buble performing alongside Sting and other A-list stars at the opening. We should've known that New York would do nothing by halves and certainly should’ve remembered that fact just a few hours later when we foolishly ordered two stacks of pancakes and a Full American breakfast between us at Bubby's. I'm not sure which is more of a wonder; the fact that we finished every scrap or that we managed to walk out afterwards and continue our day.

We didn't stop walking in fact; after an extremely brief encounter with the Metro which didn't see us even getting to the other side of the turnstile, we decided to explore the city by foot as much as possible.

Our first leg was along the High Line, the old railway which follows the riverfront and has since been transformed into a beautiful boardwalk. I imagine it to be even prettier in the summer months when the flowers are in bloom, breaking up the city concrete with colour. 

Once we'd reached the end, we took a turn towards the centre estimating that it should take us about half an hour to reach the very heart. In reality, it took us almost two but we can blame Zara for that. And Tiffany and Macy, and all the other old friends we just kept stopping to greet. 

It was exhausting work and by the time we made it to Grand Central station, we were ready to crash despite it being just midday. Cue our first prosecco pick-me-up of the day! One glass turned into two bottles which we polished off whilst people-watching from a balcony under the twinkling stars of that giant dome. We must've seen more than a hundred thousand people storm past beneath us; everyone in a hurry, everyone with somewhere to be. It was rather refreshing for once, to be so far removed from it all; to be the ones with no agenda. We could sit here all day if we liked and believe me, it was tempting! 

Nevertheless, we eventually tore ourselves away and rejoined the rat race below. I'd been warned previously about the chaos of New York and the skyscraper-induced claustrophobia which so many people experience but somehow I found it the contrary. Though the crowds of people easily compete with those in London, the excessively wide streets and overwhelmingly large buildings gave me a sense of infinite space which could never be filled. They say that you stop being a tourist in New York when you can walk down the road without looking up but I could live there forever and still find my gaze drawn towards the tallest spires. It's difficult to feel suffocated when you're continually reminded of the endlessness of the skies above you. 

On that note, I was pleased that our next stop was one of the tallest buildings of all - the Rockerfeller. The sun had set when we reached the 70th floor and the city in darkness was quite something; hardly dark at all in fact, but alive with thousands upon thousands of sparkling lights in every direction for as far as our eyes could see. We quickly found our bearings and identified the Empire State; a building which was once so famous for being enormous but now sticks out little more than the hundreds of other sky high towers surrounding us. At the very top, we were completely exposed and the sheer distance between ourselves and the ground suddenly felt very real. As did the hammering wind edging us forwards like a less than gentle nudge from a passive aggressive friend. What truly amazed me was the size of the cars on the road - even those typical American SUVs seemed no bigger than my fingernail. It occurred to me that this was the only time I could recall in the last few days thinking that something was small. 

As the lift descended, I felt on a literal comedown. Perhaps it was all the walking, or perhaps it was the overwhelming events of the day but after a couple more proseccos (which in hindsight could also have been a factor) we gave into exhaustion and called it a night. 

The next morning was a whole other story. I woke up feeling completely refreshed and so rather than focusing my energy on another gigantic stack of pancakes, I decided to go for a run along the Hudson. Somehow, I managed to convince the girls to join me and we were soon out in the crisp December air stretching and pulling Usain Bolt poses on the pier. The river, just like the roads, is extremely wide and shockingly blue. It struck me as sad that this surprised me, having become so accustomed to the dull grey shade of the Thames. The route was so beautiful that we'd smashed through 8 kilometres without even realising. 

Following a quick shower and green goddess smoothies, we then returned to walking pace and ambled back towards the centre again, this time to Ground Zero. Having never seen the Twin Towers whilst they were standing, I was unsure what to expect from this memorial site but I soon realised that it made little difference to the effect it had on me. The contrast between the vast open space and the cluttered life surrounding it is devastating. Two gaping holes now lie where the towers once stood, with water trickling down the sides and into the depths beyond view. It's a peaceful feature but one that, at least in my interpretation, signifies a continuous sadness. Beneath the exuberant positivity of New York, the water will still always flow, like the city's endless tears for those who were taken from it. 

Before we left, we took a moment to note some of the names inscribed into the border of the fountains and admired the white roses which had been laid upon those who would have been celebrating a birthday on this day. We left the site wondering who these people were and what could have been, our hearts breaking for each and every one. Though they’re one in three thousand killed that day, each one has a story and they deserve to be remembered as more than just a statistic. The memorial stands as a strong depiction of this. 

Moving on, we felt it appropriate for the Statue of Liberty to be our next stop. Rather than paying for a tour, we hopped onto the free commuter ferry to Statton Island and passed by the lady herself along the way. Though we didn't get too up close and personal, her beauty was evident from afar and the iconic representation of an incredible city.

Upon our return to the mainland, we were suddenly struck with hunger and though still miles from Brooklyn, had our hearts set on a pizza from Grimaldi's just over the bridge. It was a long while before we made it (the bridge alone is a twenty minute walk!) but the size of the pizza served once we sat down was more than enough to compensate. 

Unbeknownst to us, the day was disappearing to night outside. Whilst we'd been busy inhaling pizza, the sky had darkened to a midnight blue and as we crossed back over the bridge into Manhattan, we just caught the final glimpse of the sun on the horizon turning the skyline pink. It was absolutely stunning. 

Back at the flat, we met Hannah and popped open the champagne to mark the start of pre-drinks. Tonight, we were going out out! 

Once sufficiently tipsy, we walked down a couple of blocks to Catch where we were met by Hannah's friends and another few bottles of prosecco. It was a fairly reserved start to the evening but the guys explained that a lot of the clubs here are restaurants and hotels and that they 'pop off' later on. That, they did. 

How we got there is a little hazy but we ended up at the Jane Hotel where there were more people dancing on tables and sofas than on the dance floor itself and the music resembled an old school garage/rnb/hip-hop compilation. Basically as soon as the diners dispersed and the tequilas made a timely appearance, it all took a turn for the better, or worse judging by my hangover the next morning. 

Worse still, we woke up twenty minutes before our brunch booking at Paradou which just so happened to be unlimited mimosas. Oh god. 

The only option was to power on through it and by midday my hangover had been replaced by a warm and fuzzy state of merry which was much better for my head but less so for the shopping which followed. Goodness knows what I bought (seemingly everything) but it was enjoyable nonetheless. 

For the remainder of the afternoon, we wandered through the city, making frequent coffee stops to simultaneously sober up and warm up as the prosecco blankets abandoned us and the winter chill hit. It felt very much like any ordinary Saturday afternoon and I realised how quickly we'd adjusted to life here - we were already referring to Hannah's place as 'home.' With my best friends in tow, I truly believe I could live anywhere but New York definitely sits at the upper end of the list. 

There was still one last thing we needed to tick off before leaving so on Sunday morning we headed out early in the direction of Central Park. We'd hoped to cover it all but had once again underestimated the size of all things American. We managed about half, passing the reservoir, lakes and Alice and Wonderland memorial which all contribute to its wonderful character. 

Before we knew it though, we were flagging our final yellow cab for the airport and reminiscing on our favourite parts of the trip. We covered so much in our short stay and yet it still feels as though there's so much more to see. In a city like New York, there will always be more and we're certainly not done with it just yet.

Falling for Iguazu Falls

Reflecting back upon our experience at Iguazu Falls is like reliving a rather elaborate dream. The scenes imprinted within my memory are all so vivid and yet they seem to belong to another world, too mesmerising to be a part of this reality...

*

The park is almost empty when we arrive and eerily quiet. Following the silence, we pass the visitor's centre and take the green trail through the jungle. Whilst we'd expected to find floods of tourists, we're instead met by a family of coatis, meandering their way across our path. At first glance, these strange racoon-like animals look adorable with their aardvark's snout and bushy tails, which do well to distract the unknowing human from their sharp teeth and menacing claws. We rush past them quickly, taking note but simultaneously trying to ignore the numerous signs warning us of crocodiles, snakes and tarantulas along our way.

On the upper trail we catch our first sight of the waterfalls. Everything about them feels infinite; not only the sheer number of falls, but the endless streams of water appearing from behind the horizon; the constant ripples tipping over the edge, sacrificing themselves to the greater good; the continual crashing of curling water colliding into chaos; and the long lasting echoes booming from cliff to cliff. Breathtaking is an understatement. 

The scene surrounding the falls is no less ethereal. Where the sunlight catches the spray, the white water acts as a blank canvas for the colourful rainbows which appear overhead. Higher still, eagles soar, gliding effortlessly as though humouring those pretty butterflies beneath them, flapping their wings so excitedly; their wings, which are so exotic in colour it seems they can only have been born from the rainbows below. I couldn't have imagined something so beautiful. 

Tearing ourselves away from the viewing terrace we board a small train which takes us up the mountain side. We're now level with the top of the falls but a wide river separates us from them. Though the wind carries with it the faint whispers of crashing water, this is the only telltale sign of the fall's existence. The river water is so still and serene that it's hard to believe what awaits us on the other side. 

More butterflies lead the way as we take the route along the wooden bridge. Though expertly camouflaged, we can just about make out a baby crocodile basking in the sunshine on the rocks to our left. A little further on we find a turtle to our right, marooned on an island no bigger than its shell. A heron spreads its wings to pose for our photographs whilst flashes of colour between rustling leaves expose the hiding place of a toucan's nest. Seriously, what dream is this? 

We're approaching the edge now and what had previously looked like an inviting infinity pool at a luxury hotel resort, now reveals itself as a death defying drop. For ages we do nothing but stare in awe at the power of these falls. The spray rises so high above the water that it obscures our view of the valley beyond. It's as though we're standing at the very edge of the world, gazing out as it fades into nothingness.  

Finally we embark on the lower trail, the third and final one of the day. The park's trails have been cleverly built so that we can view the falls from various different distances and heights. We find they look incredible from every angle and no matter how hard I try telling myself that it's only water, I remain completely mesmerised.

* 

Though I've done my best to describe Iguazu Falls, it's a wonder that needs to be seen to be believed. Even then, if you're anything like me, you'll have a hard time convincing yourself that what you saw was real. It genuinely is too good to be true, a natural beauty so unnaturally beautiful!

Round & Around Rosario

To break up another big old bus journey to Iguazu, we stopped off for two nights in Rosario. Though we gave ourselves less than forty-eight hours to explore this city, I feel as though we got to know the area pretty well. This is mainly due to the fact that we spent approximately two hours the first morning circling the same six blocks over and over, in search of a bus ticket!

The plan was to catch the bus to the beach but it was far easier said than done. Tickets cost less than five pesos (the equivalent of about thirty pence) but the bus drivers only accept coins on board and Argentinian coins are extremely hard to come by. As a result, nobody is ever keen to dish them out and so there's no hope of changing up notes in a shop or bank. Your other option is to add money to an Oyster-like bus card so we borrowed one from the hostel and tried to top that up. Alas, that proved impossible too! We asked in dozens of newsagents but they all denied offering this service, instead pointing us in the direction of a different shop. Hope dwindled each time we heard the Spanish words for 'Try the next one, two blocks on the right...'

This bizarre system reminds me of the black market money exchange in Argentina which I don't believe I've mentioned yet. The Argentinian peso is incredibly unstable and so everyone is desperate to get their hands on American dollars. Therefore, the locals on the black market are willing to pay far more for dollars than they're actually worth. For example, if we were to exchange one hundred dollars at an official bank we'd have received roughly eight hundred pesos. On the black market, we made over one thousand! 

Initially we were apprehensive because it is of course illegal. However, the people offering the exchange on the streets display no caution whatsoever, shouting 'cambio, cambio' loudly so that everyone can hear. Often when you agree to a deal, they lead you into an official bank to make the exchange anyway! It's so strange and yet so accepted.

Anyway, tangent aside, we eventually gave up and traipsed back to the hostel. We were quite settled on the idea of finding something local to do but the owner, who looked uncannily like Alan from the Hangover, insisted we must find a way to the beach. He grabbed his keys, abandoned his desk and marched us outside: 'Follow Juan. I am Juan.' 

About fifteen blocks later we finally found success! I'd love to say that the beach was worth all this trouble but it hardly compared to those we've seen elsewhere on our travels. The ice-cream, on the other hand, was second to none! We can always count on ice-cream to save the day. 

Juan had told us that Rosario is in fact famous for being the ice-cream capital of Argentina and we soon discovered why. After the first, we took it upon ourselves to try out every ice-cream parlour we came across with the perfect excuse that we were just being cultural! 

Pascuas in Patagonia

 Eighteen hours is a long time to spend on a bus but the promise of free chocolate at the other end made the journey considerably less painful. Bariloche in Patagonia is renowned for its chocolatiers and with the Easter weekend just around the corner it felt like the perfect place to spend the holiday.

And right we were! The moment we stepped down from that stifling bus, the fresh alpine air filled our lungs, carrying with it the faint scent of mouth-watering chocolates. Following our noses, we found the town centre where chocolate shops line every street and chocolate cafés fill every corner. Each one is a wonderland in its own right, an Aladdin's cave of edible treasures; chocolate truffles, chocolate fountains, chocolate flakes and chocolate cakes! Some are wrapped up like tiny gifts in gold and silver, whilst others are left bare to entice your tastebuds. The best part is that there are so many shops competing for your custom that they all serve free samples to capture your interests. Needless to say, they captured ours very well.

Although it was Easter, we all agreed that Bariloche has a Christmassy feel about it. The wooden huts and log cabins look as though they've been plucked straight out of Switzerland and the snow-capped mountains would make an ideal setting for a Santa's grotto. 

However, as if to make a point that this weekend was in fact all about Easter, the world's largest chocolate egg stood proudly in the main square. At twenty-seven feet high it was absolutely ginormous. The morning of Easter Sunday, we joined a crowd of Argentinians to watch the egg be cracked open. It was a big event with film crews and radio presenters gathered around and suspense built as somebody babbled in Spanish over a loudspeaker for almost an hour. We understood next to nothing but the countdown was unmistakable: 'Cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno!' Trumpets sounded, balloons were released and the first square of chocolate egg smashed to the ground. As more and more pieces fell they revealed the smiling faces of little men, demolishing the egg from the inside outwards. 

Everyone was eager to grab a slab of the famous egg but we didn't fancy our chances against the hundreds of Argentinians, even if over half of them were children. Instead, we climbed the big hill back up to our hostel where we had our own secret stash of chocolates waiting for us. Like the big kids that we are we devised an Easter egg hunt, hiding the chocolates around our room and writing cryptic clues which led to each one. Later in the evening we treated ourselves to an all you can eat pizza night and left the restaurant feeling about as large as that egg. 

The following day, in a minor attempt at damage control, we cycled the twenty-five kilometres around the lake. The mountainous terrain made for some pretty awesome cycling and we raced down the hills with ridiculous speed. The trouble was, we loved going downhill about as much as we hated going uphill and I guess strictly speaking, we probably only pedalled for about ten kilometres, flew down the other ten, and then pushed the bikes for the remaining five up all of the steep inclines. 

Anyway, the morning started out rather grey but the clouds soon broke away, uncovering the most beautiful views out across the mountains. In many ways it reminded me of New Zealand but less green, and more autumnal to match the season. Even the rocky mountains in the far distance looked as though they'd had bursts of red and orange paint splashed across them to make them even more picturesque. 

We stopped twice along the way; once at a small beach where we skimmed stones across the surface of the clear green water, and a second time at Hotel Llao Llao, which sits high up in the mountains, overlooking another lake. We'd hoped to be able to relax with a hot chocolate in the hotel cafe but having taken one look around the lobby of this place we realised it was unlikely we'd be able to afford even a water. In our shabby cycling gear we stuck out like sore thumbs and the look on the security guards' faces said it all: 'get on your bikes' quite literally. 

If eighteen hours on a bus was long, twenty-four hours was practically a lifetime. However, though the journey back up North held no chocolate consolation, the stunning scenery I'd seen on the cycle continued for hours and I struggled to think of anywhere else I'd rather be than sat on that bus taking it all in. On and on we travelled, passing endless lakes, each one as still and serene as the next. Like an enormous mirror, the water reflected the world so perfectly that it was entirely indistinguishable from the scene itself. I found myself tilting my head to prove this theory, losing my gaze within the light blue waters with as much ease as if I'd been staring up into the infinite skies. Even from behind the thick, flecked glass of the bus window these views were truly breathtaking and I was sad when daylight disappeared leaving only darkness behind. 

We've been in South America for just one week but already I can feel myself falling in love with our surroundings. If such beauty can be found by chance during a bus journey, I can hardly imagine the wonders we'll discover when we're truly searching.

Wine Dozy in Mendoza

With its endless rows of vineyards and world famous wines, Mendoza seemed like the only sensible place to be for Hana's birthday. Therefore, we left Santiago at midday the previous day and crossed the border into Argentina, finally arriving at our hostel late that evening after a long and windy journey through the Andes.  

Still suffering from jet lag, we were desperate for bed but Erica and I had work to do! Resources were limited but somehow we made Hana's presents presentable using maps and leaflets for wrapping paper and plaited plastic bags as ribbon. Then we blew up her balloons and hid them in a locker, deciding they'd be too much of a temptation for any drunken backpacker coming in late at night. 

The morning began as all birthdays should, by opening presents in bed and scoffing Nutella pancakes. For the rest of the day, however, we'd planned something special; a trip around the Mendoza wine region, visiting three vineyards and testing out their different wines. 

At the first we were given a tour of the winery to learn exactly how the wines are made. Our guide was very informative but he lost his trail rather too often and I couldn't help thinking he probably loved his wine a little too much. His enthusiasm bordered on insanity at times as he marched us around his factory wonderland like an Argentinian Willy Wonka, snapping his fingers and shouting 'vamos!' 

Finally we got to the part we'd really all come for; the tastings! We tried reds and whites, both unfinished and finished, swirling them around in our glasses before taking a swig. The whites were my favourite but we all found at least one red that we liked too. With so many different varieties on offer it would be difficult not to and we found the more we drank, the better it tasted! 

The second bodega was just eight kilometres away, a great distance to cycle even after eight tastings of wine. Though it was another scorching hot day it was really quite pleasant as our path was shaded by the tall trees planted either side. By the time we arrived we'd worked up quite an appetite so we were delighted to find the tables laid out in the garden waiting for us. We dined alfresco with a large platter of bread, cheese and hams, and an accompanying glass of red wine on the side. For the hour that followed we sunbathed out on the lawn, allowing our lunch to go down whilst we waited for the next tour to begin. 

In the second winery we were led down cold, underground cellars which they use to store wine rather than artificial rooms which imitate these conditions. Aside from that it appeared to be very similar to the first which was rather fortunate as I couldn't make out a single word our guide was sayIng. Though she was arguably more sober than our previous Willy Wonka guide, by this point we most certainly were not and so found her accent almost impossible to decipher. Nevertheless, the wine at the tastings spoke for itself and we ended up buying a bottle of our favourite rose to continue the celebrations later on.

Not trusting ourselves to then get back onto bicycles, we joined the rest of our group on a minibus to the third and final winery of the day. Again it was pretty similar to the other two except that the wine produced there is used for religious ceremonies and so it contains more alcohol than most because it's only supposed to be consumed in small sips. However, we've been taught that to truly taste a wine you must take a large gulp at the very least and so we ended the day downing the strongest wines of all. 

Our first hangover hit around seven o'clock. Fortunately, as South Americans share the Spanish tradition of eating late, we managed to squeeze in a quick power nap before dinner. The restaurant was amazing, an authentic Argentinian place recommended by our tour guide from earlier on. We each ordered a humongous steak and then helped Hana polish off her birthday mousse (the next best thing when there's no cake on the menu.)

The next day none of us were able to face any more wineries so we decided instead to see what else Mendoza had to offer. It's a beautiful town with a good scattering of cafés and restaurants but we bought food from the local supermarket instead and took a picnic along to the Square. We thought we'd be safe being miles from the vineyards but even there, wine was difficult to escape! Free tastings were being held in the streets and even the fountains had been tinted pink to look like a giant pool of inviting red.

 The majority of the afternoon was spent in the sunshine at Mendoza Park which would have felt like a lazy day had it not been for the fact that we utilised that time to teach ourselves some Spanish. We've been using phrase books and dictionaries to set each other small tests in the hope that we'll learn enough to get by in these next few months.

It's difficult, but having spent the last three days in Mendoza I now at least have one phrase ingrained into my memory; 'otro vino, por favore!' And that will do for now. 

Starting off in Santiago

It's become quite normal to land in a new country and not instantly know what the time is but never before have we been unsure of the day. However, when we flew to South America we quite literally travelled back in time, having left Auckland on Monday morning and arrived into Santiago on Sunday night. Cool but terribly confusing. Even more so, perhaps, because we hadn't slept for so long. After over twenty-four hours of fighting to stay awake I could barely work out what my name was let alone what time zone I was in. 

Certainly, I was in no state to be deciphering a whole new language but that's the situation I found myself in. We'd been warned previously that South Americans don't speak any English but somehow I just didn't quite believe it. How I wish I had! Having never so much as glanced at a Spanish text book in all my life, I could do nothing but stare blankly back at the dozens of Chileans babbling away at me in their native tongue. They spoke slower, they spoke louder and they even tried speaking with their hands but nothing was making any sense. I made a promise there and then to teach myself Spanish in every spare second i have; better late than never!

Once we finally arrived at the hostel we found Fareed there waiting for us. The excitement of seeing him kept us awake for another hour or so before we all collapsed into bed and slept out the jetlag (a sixteen hour difference, the worst we've had yet!)

Santiago has a lot to offer but sadly we were too short on time to explore it properly. Rather than choosing just one or two places to visit we decided we'd climb to the top of San Cristobal Hill for a three hundred and sixty degree view of the whole city at once. We were surprised to find how huge the city is and how impressive it looked with the Andes Mountains enclosed around it. 

We'd love to come back and do Chile properly but as it's one of the most developed (and therefore most expensive) countries in South America, we're going to leave in until the end and only delve further if we find we have leftover time and money. For now we're heading through the Andes to Mendoza, the wine region of Argentina!

The Australasian Adventure

Three months to the day since we first touched down in Australasia (and exactly six since leaving London) we're back at the airport, this time heading for South America. However, before we begin this third and final chapter I'd like to draw the second to a close by reflecting upon our travels throughout Australia, New Zealand and Fiji. 

Whereas it was relatively easy to summarise Asia as a whole (see 'The Asian Adventure'), the three countries we've visited in Australasia have been so vastly different that it would be impossible to generalise in the same way. Instead, I've chosen ten memorable moments from each which I feel best capture the spirit of our experiences in those places.

Australia...

#1 The moment we arrived in Melbourne wearing Bangkok vests and elephant trousers, all of sudden feeling awfully silly.

#2 The moment we scoffed down our first Aussie BBQ with a family of possums rustling in the tree next to us.

#3 The moment we fell in love with Sydney and decided we'd return to live there one day. 

#4 The moment we were snuggled up on the sofa watching a film with friends, forgetting our backpacks and feeling normal for the day. 

#5 The moment I woke up at sunrise to watch the first light cast over Fraser Island. 

#6 The moment we bathed in Lake Wabby whilst tiny fish nibbled at our feet. 

#7 The moment we realised we were city girls at heart and that desolate beach towns could not keep us entertained. 

#8 The moment we were sung to sleep on a boat by two Essex boys performing 'I'm a Wanderer' on the harmonica.

#9 The moment we woke up on the front deck, surrounded by nothing but ocean in the middle of the Whitsundays.

#10 The many moments we solved a difficult situation with a cup of tea and Tim Tams.

New Zealand...

#1 The moment our sat nav's only instruction was 'In three hundred kilometres, turn left'. 

#2 The moment we witnessed the Lady Geyzer volcano erupt.

#3 The moment we regretted our decision to eat egg salad for lunch at the ever so eggy Wai-O-Tapo Wonderland.

#4 The moment we found our own private jacuzzi in Taupo's natural hot springs.

#5 The moment we trekked past Mount Doom from The Lord of the Rings.

#6 The moment we stopped for lunch beside the glistening Emerald Lakes in the Tongariro National Park.

#7 The moment we spotted bright blue glow worms in the 'fairy forest'. 

#8 The moment we reached the top of Wanaka's Rocky Mountains to see an oil painting view of the lakes.

#9 The moment our Kaikoura coastal path was blocked by seals slumped out on the decking. 

#10 The moment we were welcomed back into the home of Nick and Nikki, our adopted New Zealand parents

Fiji...

#1 The moment we said our first 'bula' and picked a pink flower for our hair. 

#2 The moment we set eyes on the Mamanuca islands, sailing past each tiny paradise.

#3 The moment we arrived on Beachcomber Island and walked the entire circumference in less than ten minutes.

#4 The moment I woke up on my birthday to presents wrapped in banana leaves and a Fijian woman playing 'Happy Birthday' on her guitar.

#5 The moment our long boat met the big ferry out in the ocean in the middle of a storm. 

#6 The moment we spotted a rainbow behind the mountain whilst kayaking through the sea in the rain.

#7 The moment we jumped from the top of the waterfall in the middle of the jungle on the Uprising trek. 

#8 The moment we met the Fijian school children in Navala Village and learnt what they were taught in class.

#9 The moment we sat discussing politics over lunch with our Indian-Fijian taxi driver.

#10 The moment we joined in the locals' late night kava circle and sang along to Boyzone songs played on their guitars.

These are just a small snippet of the memories made during our incredible three months on the continent. I can't wait to some day come back and add to them further but for now, it's goodbye; we're off to Santiago!

Overnight in Auckland

Unsurprisingly there was no direct flight from Fiji to Chile so we had to stop off in New Zealand between. Although this stalled the next part of our adventure it actually worked out very well for us because it meant spending another night with our lovely friends in Auckland.

After a long and emotional journey we were overjoyed to come through the arrivals gates to see Nick and Nikki there waiting for us with open arms. They've looked after us so well since being on this side of the world, like our parents of a parallel universe.

We arrived 'home' early evening and whilst Nikki began preparations for her amazing home-cooked lasagne, Nick lined up wine glasses outside ready for a final 'cheers' at sunset. From their perfect garden viewpoint, it was as stunning as ever and I was so pleased to have had the chance to see it just one last time. 

As it turned out, however, it was not the last time as we found ourselves in the same spot, admiring the same view the very next evening. Our flight to Santiago, which was initially scheduled to leave at four o'clock Sunday afternoon was delayed until the early hours of Monday morning. 

Luckily though we discovered the news as soon as we woke up and so weren't put out at all. In fact, quite the opposite! We had a lovely relaxed morning, ate eggs, bacon and 'stuffy stuff' at the family's favourite cafe down the road and then hit the shops to stock up on last minute New Zealand chocolates. 

Later, Nikki put on a Sunday roast which was the first we've had since leaving England and was just amazing. It certainly beat plane food and by the time we'd finished eating we were half wishing our flight could be delayed a further ten hours. 

Returning to Auckland was the perfect way to end our Australasian adventure and to grasp onto a final few home comforts before backpacking around South America. I can't say I know anybody on that side of the world so I imagine the next time I feel this at home will be when I actually am! 

Full Circle in Fiji

After narrowly escaping spending a night in a Single Women's Christian Institute in Lautoka, we found ourselves back in Nadi earlier than expected. At first I was a little apprehensive because we hadn't loved Nadi on our previous visit but it felt like an entirely different place on our return. 

With Easter just around the corner and the island's high season about to begin, the hostels were buzzing with people and excitement. We checked into a great little place on the beachfront and treated ourselves to a happy hour cocktail. In the beautiful light cast by the sunset over the horizon, Nadi beach looked no less like paradise than any of the tiny islands we'd visited along the way. It was the perfect spot to sit and reflect upon all that we'd done and how far we'd come since we'd last been sat there. 

Though only the third largest town in Fiji, Nadi is certainly the most happening and therefore, a great place to use as a base for all our remaining day trips. The first was to Sabeto Mud Pools for a Fijian style 'spa day.' Upon arrival we were given a tour of the various different pools in this peaceful outdoor haven before being introduced to the 'Mud Man' who coated our faces in a thick layer of sludge. The responsibility then lay with us to paint the rest of our bodies which led to some rather interesting designs as we used one another's backs as a blank canvas for our muddy masterpieces. 

Whilst wet, the mud felt incredible against our skin; like a soft and expensive moisturiser rather than clay soil scooped from the ground. When the eventual cracking sensation indicated that the work was complete we were taken to the first of three hot springs to wash off. We found the mud slid off easily and our skin left feeling silky smooth beneath. 

Having now fully adapted to 'Fiji time' we were in no hurry to leave and so bathed for a while in the hot pools, taking in our tranquil surroundings. The backdrop to this beautiful setting was the Garden of the Sleeping Giant, a park which stands before a cluster of hills which Fijians believe to be shaped like a huge man lying on his back. They have wonderful imaginations. 

Our second trip out of Nadi was to Navala, a traditional Fijian village up in the mountains. Though it's not far in terms of distance, the drive took almost three hours because there's no road leading up to it. Luckily we had a cute Indian-Fijian man called Kachi as our driver who chatted away to us the entire journey to pass the time. In fact, when fatigue hit us half way through and we fell a little quiet, he stopped off at the side of the road and snapped us off some sugar cane to suck on - the perfect sugar rush to bring us back to life! 

The village itself was so beautiful, it was almost ethereal. The bamboo built bures with their weaved walls and thatched roofs looked as though they could've been plucked straight from the pages of a fairy tale. Our tour started at the chief's house who granted us an official welcome into the village. His 'sleeping house' was slightly larger than most and at least had a bed but was otherwise completely bare. It's quite amazing how little they live on. 

As we bid him farewell we heard the sound of a bell ring followed by a wave of excitable squeals as  the school children fled their classrooms for lunchtime. A flock of tiny Fijians dressed in smart blue uniform stormed towards us but stopped short as they realised we were not their usual village folk. They really are an adorable bunch and we were pleased to find we had a few little shadows following us back into the school grounds. Slowly but surely they plucked up the courage to speak to us, wanting to know our names, where we came from and most importantly if we had any sweets! It's honestly a good job that I didn't have an inch of space left in my backpack or there would definitely be a Fijian child or two squeezed inside. 

Of course no traditional day in Fiji could end without kava so we were taken back to the chief's house for the small ceremony. Sat cross legged on the bure floor, we watched as the suspicious looking drink was passed around the circle. When it came to our turn we were told to say 'bula', clap three times and then down the drink in one. It tasted like dirt but with a dozen or so villagers all surrounding us, we had no choice but to chug the lot. It was like being a uni fresher all over again! 

Kava's a funny one. It's completely legal but has similar effects to that of marijuana and Fijians absolutely swear by it. After just one cup we were feeling pretty spaced out and it suddenly made perfect sense why everything in Fiji is so incredibly slow.

On our final day in Nadi we woke up to find that the Yasawas Rugby team were staying at our hostel. Over breakfast they told us that they were competing in the National Sevens Tournament and asked if we would come along to support. The cheerleaders within us just couldn't say no so we ditched our initial sunbathing plans to go along and watch. Fijians take rugby very seriously and it was fun to be a part of the action.

After stocking up on a final stash of Indian sweets we went back to pack and get ready for our 'final supper' altogether. Reminiscing on the last three weeks it became quite apparent how much we've all fallen in love with Fiji. Having covered six different islands and travelled the full circuit around the mainland, we truly feel as though we've done Fiji perfectly and I wouldn't change any of it for the world. Though it's now time to leave this beautiful island behind us I'll be carrying 'bula' with me wherever I go.