Budapest Spas & Bars

Landing in Budapest, we quite quickly realised we knew nothing about the city. One of our party (though she'll remain unnamed) thought it was a country, I'd thought the currency was Euros and none of us had any idea how to go about even saying 'hello'. We'd booked the trip a while back but life seems to have run away with us as a little lately and we'd found virtually no time to do any research. Well, this should be fun. 

Our first pleasant surprise was that the exchange rate coupled with the low cost of living made us really rather well off. The taxi from the airport cost the equivalent of just a couple of pounds each and within less than an hour of landing we were outside our Airbnb in the city.

Two Hungarian guys were there to meet us and showed us up to the room via a rickety lift that looked as though it belonged in the 1920's. Fortunately, the apartment itself was considerably more modern with two double bedrooms and a spacious living area which was more than sufficient for the five of us for the weekend ahead. 

We wasted no time in changing out of our plane clothes and pouring our outrageously cheap vodka concoctions. Despite finishing the entire bottle, we thought we were relatively sober until we couldn't work out how to get out of the building. Looking back on it, we were also blaring out Justin Bieber and playing sardines in a cupboard so it really should have been more obvious. 

Having eventually cracked the Fort Knox code (i.e. pressing the exit button...) we were finally free and jumped into a taxi to Szimpla, one of Budapest's most famous Ruin Bars. 

Embedded within what remains of Budapest's original flats and factories, the Ruin Bars are the epitome of understated cool. Whilst they should have long been condemned to destruction, the buildings were instead filled with rejected furniture from the depths of the city bringing a retro feel to the place and soon after an unstoppable wave of young people to enjoy them.  

Lost amongst the neon lights and crowds of unfathomable accents, it was difficult to believe that we'd been sat at our desks that very morning. That same thought also brought on a sudden tiredness and despite our best intentions, by 3am we were shattered and called it a night. 

Consequently, we were up at a fairly reasonable hour the following day and headed out straight away to make the most of our short weekend in the city. Our apartment was conveniently situated right next to the Central Food Market so we wandered over there for what was supposed to be a light breakfast. What it turned into, however, was langos; a gigantic deep fried flat bread topped with virtually anything you ask for from, vegetables, to Nutella! We could easily have shared one between the the five of us but somehow smashed through one each (plus an obligatory strudel...)

Recognising the need to to work off the 9,000 calories just consumed, we dodged the Metro and instead walked all the way into the centre of town. It was a relatively long distance but the journey took far longer than it should have, had we not been continually distracted by sights along the way. The first was the Chain Bridge which we did not need to cross but very much wanted to. The view from either side was incredible with pastel coloured buildings lining one side of the river and tall green hills with the remains of castles peering out from within the cliff face of the other. It was exactly how I'd imagined it to be but better, and made better still for the fact that we had a bright blue sky to frame it all in. 

After an hour or so we reached our destination; the Széchenyi Thermal spa. It felt bizarre to be stripping down into our bikinis in single figure temperatures but the steam arising from the baths themselves promised warmth. We began inside where there were dozens of pools in a long line, allowing us to hop from one to the next, dipping our toes in those that were only lukewarm and fully plunging into those that were dreamily hot. Some were bubbling, others still and each contained a variety of minerals which are meant to perform miracles on your skin. 

I was hoping to emerge from the waters feeling an entirely new woman and perhaps I would have if I hadn't been entirely numbed from head to toe; cold is the only thing I felt as we sprinted from the indoor halls to the large outdoor pool in time to catch the last glimpse of sunset. 

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the sky turned a deep mauve and the pool's lights glowed like stars from beneath the surface. With such beautiful surroundings, it was difficult to muster the motivation (let alone the courage) to ever leave the pool again. 

Once we finally made it back to the flat, however, we had a cheeky power nap followed by an extensive MI5 operation to carry out, as we thought our apartment was being broken into (which it wasn't), so we were somewhat delayed for dinner. 

Without any real reasoning, we'd just assumed that Hungary would follow the same routines as the likes of Italy and Spain when it comes to eating late but it soon transpired that they do not. Our dreams of the cheapest Michelin Star meal ever eaten were soon shattered when we struggled to find a single restaurant still open close to midnight. My mind was already starting to wander back to the 4am Pad Thai we'd had the night before but fortunately we stumbled across one nice looking establishment still willing to welcome us in just before I was forced to find out how terrible drunk food tastes sober. 

This place was an absolute find and for less than a tenner, we had starters, elaborate mains and a lot of wine before moving swiftly onto Instant where we'd heard promises of a great night.

As soon as we arrived it was immediately obvious why people rave so highly about this particular ruin bar. The rooms appear infinite and lead off in every direction, with each one slightly darker and considerably stranger than the one before. To give you an idea; the entrance has flying bunny rabbits stapled to the ceiling and a glittering pig disco ball, and that's only the beginning. 

The people we encountered inside were no less strange but it was amusing for the most part. My favourite by far was one particularly high guy who's opening line to every girl who had the pleasure of his forthcomings was 'Can I have your drink?' Not usually how it works but I rate his efforts... 

The beauty of such a big place is that there's a whole range of music but nevertheless, we struggled to find much that resembled hip hop. Luckily, just as Instant was starting to die down, we caught wind of an RnB club down the road and decided to swing by on our way home. It was a little like a smaller, grimier Oceana but it still kept us amused for a further two hours until we'd heard virtually every Pitbull song we could stomach. 

After just a few hours sleep, we were up and out again, this time returning to the Christmas markets that we'd passed the previous day for a better look around. The plan was to pick up some gifts to take home but the strong scent of mulled wine proved rather distracting and we soon found ourselves huddled in a log cabin sipping steaming drinks and gobbling down traditional Hungarian food. We ended up with quite a mixture of sorts but thankfully all avoided the rooster testicles; I'm all for trying local delicacies but I was still feeling pretty fragile from the night before and that did not sound appetising. What did sound appetising, on the other hand, was the chocolate and cheese strudels on our way out – a delectable combo and the perfect way to end our weekend in Budapest!

A Trip to Eataly

The moment I passed my probation at my new workplace, I stepped straight out of the office and onto a plane. Having not been allowed to take holiday for my first three months, I couldn't want to break the cabin fever and travel again. I also couldn't wait for a rest so it seemed sensible to make my first stop Lake Como, which conveniently happens to be both my dad's home and the most relaxing place on Earth. 

That is, when you're not setting an alarm for 4am to go mushroom picking. 

This ever-so-unrelaxing activity wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my first day of holiday but having recently developed an intrigue in the Italian side of my family's fascination with mushrooms, I appreciated the invite to tagalong. 

For the twenty-five years which preceded this curiosity, I'd pretty much just written them off as insane and as we clambered up the steep mountain terrain, fighting through the brambles in complete darkness, I was quite sure I'd been right all along. Surely I'll never find any if I can't see? Or even worse, I'll pick one that's poisonous! 

When I did, however, find my first porcini it was nothing short of momentous. Never have I ever experienced such parental pride from my dad; my university graduation, multiple championship wins, even my very entry into this world, all of which he was there to witness, felt overwhelmingly insignificant in comparison. The enormity of the mushroom just about matched the size of the smile on his face and my own sense of achievement as I ripped it from the ground and held it up to the sky. 

I was one hundred percent hooked and my enthusiasm only grew in the hours that followed (and we were there for hours.) I suddenly felt like the mad one for not jumping on this craze years ago. Who wouldn't enjoy this? It's essentially a treasure hunt for adults and a lot of fun!

Only once we found our baskets, backpacks and every available body part overflowing with mushrooms did we finally call it a day. Back at the house, Dad and Stefy got straight to work cleaning and slicing our winnings whilst, I on the other hand, went straight back to bed. Hours later, my rumbling stomach woke me and the strong fumes of the drying fungi filled my nostrils. Tip-toeing over and around the dozens of racks which now filled every corner of the house, I went to find my dad, Stefy and their friend Claudio who was staying with us for a few days. 

The four of us decided to toast our success at Cantina Follie, a beautiful wine bar in Tremezzo which specialises in cheese and meat boards. I devoured far too much before realising that this was only the aperitivo and we still had pizza on the menu for later in Santa Maria. Having been to Italy more times than I can count, you'd think I'd have learnt by now but perhaps it's a subconscious decision not to. Contented in my food coma, I retired to bed relatively early that evening, soothed by the sound of the waves lapping outside my window. Bliss. 

A far less welcoming sound woke me the next morning; the cat, scratching persistently on my bedroom door. She wanted to be let out and despite virtually every window in the house being open, insisted she leave in a more dignified manner suited to the absolute princess that she is. It was 5am and as far as I was concerned, we were no longer friends. Unfortunately, the feeling wasn't mutual (or perhaps it was?) but either way, she came clambering back at 6am, this time clawing against another closed window to crawl back into bed with me. I was destined never to have a lie in. 

Wide awake, I suggested a long walk through the mountains to fill our now rather extended morning. It was a cloudy start to the day though, so rather than climbing too high we instead meandered through the hamlets above our own village, covering a long distance but ascending slowly. 

Despite the lack of sleep, I felt entirely relaxed. There's something about this place which is almost enchanting in the way it draws you into its slow pace of life and makes you appreciate the moment for what it is. There are few occasions in life that I can vividly remember being able to simply stop and breathe but the majority all seem to be here. 

By the time we reached San Martino, the skies had cleared and we were awarded our view after all. We enjoyed a late lunch and a well-deserved carafe of red wine before making our way back down. As it was Claudio's last night with us, there was no question of where we'd be taking him; Fabio's, of course. Without so much as glancing at the menu I ordered a melanzane pizza and left the drinks  order to my dad (which is always a safe bet.) 

We drank enough at the restaurant to know that we'd be continuing back home and the four of us (plus the cat) stayed up way into the early hours putting the world to right over whiskey and Nutella. We spoke of love and war and everything in-between, and when we'd exhausted conversation, we sung of it instead. Claudio, a psychiatrist by day but musician by night, whipped out his guitar and treated us to an entire set of Italian classics before taking requests. I was pleased to be able to then singalong in my mother tongue. 

For my final full day, we'd booked tickets to the World Expo which is held in a different city every four years and focuses on a current affair. This year, it was held in Milan and the theme was food! Absolute win. 

Considering I fly to Milan so regularly, I've spent very little time in the city so we made the most of the trip and travelled in early to explore. The metro took us to the main square which is home to the grand cathedral. It looked stunning with the backdrop of the bright blue sky and kept our attention for quite some time before moving on into the heart of the capital. 

Surrounded by Milan locals, I suddenly felt incredibly under-dressed. Every street is a catwalk runway with perfectly styled mannequins poised in the front row. The shop windows scream expensive but the in the classiest of whispers behind the marble stone frames. 

I could easily have stood for hours in the midst of Milan simple people watching, but it was time to head to the expo. The first room we entered introduced the concept of food from around the world; where it comes from, how it's processed and what's produced in each region. There was a strong focus on World Hunger and the fact that there's sufficient food to feed the entire population if only it were distributed more evenly. We now produce 17% more food per person than we did 30 years ago and yet close to 1 billion go to bed hungry every night. 

With that in mind, what followed felt a tad oxymoronic. The rest of the park was filled with exhibitions from every country in the world from America, to Burma, to Iran and Papa New Guinea. Each nation had been allocated a plot of land to represent their cuisine however they pleased and the results were quite astounding. The UK had chosen to focus on their production of honey and constructed a giant beehive from honeycomb laced fairy lights. In Malaysia we found an interactive rainforest, in China an impressive fountain display, in Brazil an assault course, and in the USA a grand entrance of glittering stars and lights. Of course Italy had the largest space of all to play with and had a mini village called 'Eataly' filled with all the best restaurants and an epic Nutella bar. 

With so much on offer, we were cautious not to commit to any one cuisine so picked up little bits from as many countries as we could. It was all divine and whilst it was served with a twinge of guilt on the side, all profits were at least donated to charity to help fight World Hunger. 

As always, it was a fantastic trip and I was very sad to leave.  For me, I suppose Italy is a break without the hectic planning of a real holiday and a home without the responsibilities of real life; for me, it's perfect. 

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!