Diary

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The Jamie and Sophie chronicles Volume IV

• Week 31

  • Another facet of Tonga we had to get used to was their strict adherence to island time. Why would we think anything would run when they said it would? You get a lot of chances to practise patience. For example, the first time we wanted to go into the main town, Nuku Alofa, they said they'd take us in on the 10am shuttle. The word "shuttle" conjures images of a regular, practised, efficient and punctual service. At 10:37 we finally got under way. We agreed to be picked up at 1pm to go back to the hotel. At 2:05 the "shuttle" turned up. First we were asked if we had finished early. Then we were told she wasn't more than 30 minutes late. Then came a long, drawn-out excuse involving flower picking and lost keys(?).

    All the time we kept saying to each other, "This is the islands. We have to understand that this is their way. We are on holiday and should relax." By the end of the week we were tearing our hair out. The second time we went into town we left a half-hour late, not too bad, but then spent an hour circling a local village looking for the chief as our driver, Edwin, had something to drop off. Edwin was then an hour late picking us up and then ran some shopping errands, with us in the back, before getting back to the hotel.

    There are even more such woeful tales to describe, but I think you know where I'm going with this. Not if the Devil himself was going to incinerate Edwin's Kenny G collection could they get anything done in time. A lot of the locals we knew wore t-shirts with eagles and muscled warriors on, bearing the legend "Tongan Power". Shame there wasn't a t-shirt for "Tongan Punctuality".

    Anyway, I digress. Nuku Alofa was a neat little town. A bit run down and in need of a good swabbing and a lick of paint, but everything was there that you needed: tourist office, Royal Tombs and Palace, Travel Agents (who sold us a dud ticket for Raratonga - another long story), bakers, craft market, international telephone, curried fish vendor and a bookshop with no real books.

    We managed to book an island tour from our hotel and were driven round all the sights. The best of which was where the missionaries first landed. Not for the monument there or sense of history but for the fishing pigs. Just on the nearby beach, if the tide is right, you can see the local village pigs out on the mud flats hunting for molluscs - made a great photo. In all, it wasn't a bad day and we also got to see blowholes, the palace and tombs (again), Captain Cook's landing spot, a 1000 year-old stone trilithion that looked like a mini stonehenge and the bird gardens (complete with over amorous dog). Not bad when you consider the island is only 20 miles long.

    The other "not to be missed" highlight was the Tongan Feast, held at the National Cultural Centre. We got there early (for a change) and were directed to the Tongan National Museum to kill time. Pretty hard considering the museum is one room. There was a dress that Queen Salote once wore, a stuffed turtle, some war clubs and pictures of the King, who they take very seriously.

    Back at the shabby function hall we sat down for our feast and entertainment with anticipation. First was a Kava drinking ceremony where everybody was invited to drink the freshly prepared Kava. Not sure of it's legal back in the UK, but Kava is named as the reason why most people are laid back and non-violent in the South Pacific. Traditionally prepared from the roots of the "Piper Methysticum" shrub, it's drunk at all major social occasions or even after a hard day's work. It's said the amalgam of 14 analgesics and anaesthetics just instills relaxation, a sense of wellbeing and minor changes in emotions and vision, as well as the wish to snooze for a while depending on the strength. All I'll say is that it's an acquired taste (if you like dishwater) and we only had a few sips; but we did feel our lips and tongues go numb for a while. Sounds like a KFC advert: "It's the special blend of 14 analgesics and anaesthetics that make it lip numbing good". I wonder if we should send some home for further research?

    Anyway, after the Kava was the Umu feast and then the dancing began with all the atmosphere of a junior school musical production. I.E. with the usual sniggering, looking and talking to people off-stage, dropping things into the audience and, at one point, accidentally demolishing a floor light with a dancing club. But what are you going to do . . . this is Tonga!

    So, after a relaxing stay, it was time to wave goodbye to the mushrooms growing on our bathroom wall tiles and head off to Auckland for a connecting flight to the Cook Islands.

    We got to Auckland without many problems, if a little late (no surprise there), but our 1am flight out had to turn back from the runway due to the strong smell of aviation fuel in the cabin (never a good sign). We changed to a new plane and by 4am we were on our way.

    Raratonga seemed to be excellent, at least it wasn't raining too hard. Not that we really noticed as we collapsed in bed and surfaced only to get a quick parrotfish supper before going back to sleep.

    The next day we were up early to head 300km North on a 50 minute flight over the ocean to the lagoon atoll of Aitutaki. Aitutaki was beautiful. Everything we'd been expecting of the South Pacific. The main island is only 5 miles long, bent like a horseshoe around a huge aquamarine lagoon with coral reef and 20 smaller islands and sandbars. Bounty Bar paradise. At our "hotel" we had a small palm-thatched hut right on the white sand beach complete with mossie net and a fridge - result!

    The island was stunning, with palm trees, bananas and coconuts coming out of our ears. The only drawbacks were that everything closed on a Sunday and the only way into "town" to get supplies was to hire a motorbike. We had promised ourselves in Thailand that we would never get behind the handlebars of a motorbike again and here we were breaking that promise. The things we do for drinking water and canned tuna. Luckily we managed to get into town and back without falling off. Could we keep our record unblemished? Find out next week.

    Evil Kneivel and Sophie

• Week 32

  • After spending another day sitting on the beach, swimming in the azure blue water and taking the shade under some banana trees, we got ready to head into town for an "Island Night" with buffet extravaganza and traditional Polynesian dancing.

    We leapt on the motorbike and zoomed off into the humid darkness only to pull over half a mile later with a flat tyre! We abandoned the bike by the roadside and walked the last mile into "town" (a small hamlet). The event itself was great. We met some people and conversation flowed as easily as the drinks. We ate whilst the world's cheesiest music played - one guy on a keyboard singing Lionel Ritchie and Leo Sayer covers.

    Once food was over with out came the drums and some high-octane dancers complete with grass skirts, backing choir and a guy who could do pretty mean fire dancing. At the point where they terrorise the audience there was no hiding for Sophie and she was pulled onto the dancefloor - not bad considering the cringe factor.

    The following morning we salvaged the bike by pushing it through the pouring rain. Very annoying considering an hour later the sky cleared and we had blistering sunshine for the rest of the week.

    While on Aitutaki we took a snorkeling cruise around the lagoon. The weather was excellent, empty blue skies and a roasting sun. As we traveled out from the main island to the other atolls the water was an amazing blue dotted here and there with sand bars and coral heads. The snorkeling wasn't quite Great Barrier Reef standard but was pretty good with thousands of multi-coloured fish. We landed for lunch at a place called One Foot Island (probably cos it looks like a foot from the air!) where we were cooked up parrot fish with fried bananas, coconut cream and guavas - delish.

    Back on the island there were a few things that kept annoying us about the lady behind reception at the hotel. She was friendly enough but used the kitchen's only bread knife to clean under her nails and her husband (who was ex US citizen) kept going on about how everyone in New York must be scared and weren't we terrified of a stinger missile hitting our next flight. This man wins Most Annoying/Hated Bloke of the Trip Award! We doubt there will be anyone to beat him so even though we were in paradise we were still at the mercy of any nutcase that walked through the door....for some reason quite a few of these characters chose our guest house. Hmmm.

    Speaking of nuts, we also managed to time our trip to coincide with the crowning of the new king of the island. In true island style it started an hour late but we cycled down (note we are now on bikes) to see an old Cook Islander being hoisted down the road on a makeshift throne. He was decked out in grass robes and a coconut husk crown and his supporters were dressed head to tow in huge green leaves. Everything proceeded in native Raratongan but there seemed to be a lot of joking around and at least 3 people were taking it seriously. After the ceremony we were invited to a feast down by the Wharf. We sat at a special long table for tourists groaning under the weight of whole roast chickens, baked fish and some indescribably awful pumpkin jelly. Bar the jelly the food was fab. The locals hoovered their food up in about 30 seconds (professional feasters obviously) and we then sat in the courtyard for the entertainment. There must have been at least 6 different dancing groups of all ages and sizes who played for us. Brilliant - and free!

    On Sophie's birthday we braved another motorbike trip (checking tyre pressure first) to go around the island. Taking it slowly we were finished in about 2 hours so we stopped at the beach bar and spent the afternoon tanning and swimming. Perfect.

    Back on Raratonga after some frustration getting hold of a room key (they didn't think it necessary?!) we settled at a backpackers by the beach on the SE coast. That Sunday we went to a Cook Island Church to check out the service. The singing was incredible - no accompaniment, but pitch perfect. The whole service was conducted in Maori so we didn't understand but the music was so good. Afterwards all tourists were invited for lunch at the church hall where there was yet again another overladen table. We were glad we'd skipped brekkie. Everyone had to explain where they came from and what we were doing, etc and nobody picked their nails with a breadknife. Great!

    More freeloading next week.....

• Week 33

  • For the last couple of days on Raratonga we took things fairly easily, hanging out on the beach sunbathing and swimming. Only one day did we attempt anything more strenuous and hired a little hatchback to explore the island. We could have taken a bus but it was easier to get a confirmed sighting of the Yeti - we maintained that the bus was a figment of mass hysteria as no-one could ever recall having seen it or taken it.

    Luckily we had a hot day and pottered around the main town, Avarua, drove round the Western Coast to meet a famous wood carver and then found an isolated beach for the rest of the afternoon.

    We also watched a couple of weddings on the beach by our hostel. There was a small palm-covered sand bar about 600 yards from the beach in the middle of the lagoon. Everybody stopped to watch the bride and groom get shuttled over in a speedboat and then get paddled back as husband and wife in a small outrigger canoe by a guy in full flowers/warrior dress. Very stylish.

    Our last morning on Raratonga we crawled onto the 5am bus to the airport. We'd only had a couple of hours' sleep as our "young" neighbours had an impromptu farewell party for those leaving on the same plane. As it finished at midnight the hotel next door started up an all-night beach party complete with fire and Ministry-of-Sound-like hi-fi system. We couldn't hear the music, just feel the bass thumping randomly through the mattress. When Dante wrote of his "Inferno" he left out an eighth damnation - backpacker hell.

    Six hours later we touched down with much relief in Fiji. It was hotter than Raratonga, the sky only perfunctorily dotted with smudges of white cloud.

    First impressions were more white sandy beaches, impossibly blue coral lagoons, coconut palms and incredibly friendly people. For example, after sorting out some problems with our tickets (Air NZ cancelled its Fiji to Hawaii route without telling us, hoho!) we asked a complete stranger where to catch the bus South. He took us outside and waited with us for 10 minutes, flagged down the coach and waved us goodbye as we drove off - not once did he try to sell us anything, just spoke about his experiences of living in Wimbledon Park. Imagine that happening at Heathrow!

    The main island of Fiji, Viti Levu, is beautiful - a lot of lush vegetation, flat picture-postcard beaches around the edge with tall hills and steep valleys at its centre. With the English bringing workers over from India in the nineteenth century the country is almost a half and half mix of Native Fijians and Fijian Indians. All towns have a strange feel to them: bustling Indian markets, spices and saris tempered with the usual Pacific laid-back feel and women sporting huge afro hairdos.

    And Island Time is very much in force. You can sometimes leap on a bus and off it goes before you've even paid your fare, but most of the time there's a lot of waiting around. One such morning we waited an hour in torrential rain for 3 buses that never came. Not until we were soaked through to the bone did we give up and ring for a taxi (stiff upper lip and all that I suppose).

    We're now settled in a fantastic mini-house on the beach on the South Coast, known as the Coral Coast. For about 6 quid a night more than we were paying for our rat hole on Raratonga we have: beach side view and breakfast balcony, master bedroom (there were 3 more beds upstairs), private spotless modern bathroom, dining area, lounge, kitchen and hot water! Fantastic value.

    We've got a few trips planned but are generally looking forward to lazing on the beach or by the pool and soaking up the heat and sun.

    Catch up with you next week.

    J&S

     

• Week 34
  • After so long putting up with dirty kitchens, fellow backpackers "borrowing food" and staff cleaning fingernails with cooking implements we were so glad
    to have our own kitchen to self cater.  This was quite a novelty at first but by the end of the week we were ready to eat out again.
    Sigatoka, the local town, was only 7 miles away but the colourful open-air buses soon became a drag; always late, always overcrowded.  Food was also a problem, expensive and sometimes shocking quality - at least 2 meals were called off by discovering mechanically reclaimed meat on the plate.  It's at times like these that you realise how lucky you really are at home having
    such plentiful, cheap and hygenic food.
    
    For the most part of the first week our routine was a trip into town for food followed by beach, pool, hammock and evening cocktails.  To break the monotony we decided to get the bus to Nadi, the second largest town on Fiji, for a day out.
    
    The town itself was fairly average.  A long main "strip" containing the usual Fiji mix of souvenir shops, indian grocers, Fijian Kava outlets and touts trying to sell you "Fiji smoke" at each street corner, all under a blistering sky.  More interesting was the transport.  The journey there had been woefully long and late as well as unnerving.  We were used to brazen drivers and thought nothing could be worse than our experiences in Vietnam. 
    All was going fine until we got stuck behind an explosives convoy with two escort vans and a flat-bed lorry bearing a huge container, all with flashing yellow lights.  This must have been some special signal to our bus driver to
    turn into a maniac.  He waited until we were approaching a hill with a bend and then accelerated as though he was on the straight at Silverstone.  We barely missed sideswiping the container by a foot and overtaking the convoy was probably the longest 30 seconds of everyone's lives, judging by the white knuckles on the backs of seats.
    
    Coming back we thought we'd miss out on all this madness by taking the smaller "express" bus home.  An hour and a half late it showed up at the bus station and 30 miles from our hotel it started making a strange noise.  The driver pulled over and opened the engine hatch by his seat.  Just at that moment there was a loud bang and a small geyser of sparks and steam shot up and began to fill the bus with smoke.  How no one was injured in the stampede we'll never know.
    
    We also took a day trip that week to the Sigatoka valley, away in the hills in the interior of Fiji.  The scenery was beautiful, all lush green farmland growing yams, mangos, tapioca and tobacco.  Everywhere were little homesteads centred around traditional thatched meeting houses.
    

    
    We were driven to one such farm to ask the local chief for permission to visit a nearby famous cave.  At first we thought that this had been put on purely for the tourists but it was actually very genuine.  Out came the kava bowl and a small drinking ceremony was performed with yours truly as the acting "foreign chief" again.  For the rest of the day I was addressed as "Ratu Jamie", meaning chief.  As in New Zealand before, Sophie didn't hide her shame well.  After obtaining the chief's permission and blessing the local priest was dispatched to guide us while the remaining locals steadily worked their way through what was left of the kava - strong stuff.
    

    
    After crossing a couple of streams, a river and hiking uphill we got to the cave.  There has been very little tourism development here, so we were
    guided by the priest holding a gas lamp ahead of us and our 2 tour guides carrying torches behind.  There was a lot of wading knee deep in water and crouching under rock ledges and avoiding bats and cockroaches.  It was worth it though.  The cave system was very extensive and the guide explained how entire villages had survived wars by living there.  More eerie were the ancient cannibal ovens and the story of how certain villagers would be marked to be the main course during inaugurations, funerals and weddings.
    

    After that was your usual spot of bamboo rafting and presentation of authentic "chief" certificate.  I am now duly authorised to be a recognised chief anytime I return to the village.  But why was Sophie laughing so much
    - it was very serious man business?
    
    Back at the hotel we spent the rest of the week with the tried and tested routine of pool, provision runs, snorkeling and sunset cocktails with the odd "spiritual massage" thrown in.
    

    
    More island tales next week.
    Jamie and Sophie

• Week 35
  • Yet again, we were up at the crack of dawn for a 7:15 tourist shuttle to Nadi to catch a boat. At 7:45 the bus limped into our hotel and soon we were off. We still had 2 and a half hours to get to the marina so we weren't too worried. . . I mean we had a bus break down on us a couple of days before - it couldn't happen again, could it? At 9:15 the engine was declared dead 15 miles outside of Nadi. The driver was at a loss of what to do so a small tourist mutiny ensued. We flagged down a regular bus and at Nadi bus station we commandeered two more buses to take us on to the marina.

    Our version of "Trains, Planes and Automobiles" didn't end there. At 11, we checked in at the marina and were told our ship had sailed an hour earlier. We were pushed into a small motor launch and took off down the channel like something out of a "Miami Vice" chase scene to catch up with our 80ft tall ship, "Spirit of the Pacific". Not for the first time in the last 8 months we were the last on board and were duly given an embarrassing round of applause.

    Our cruise was for 3 days with 30 other tourists and 8 crew around the Yasawas Islands, North West of Viti Levu. The weather was fantastic the whole time, scorching hot with bright blue skies.

    The 2 nights were spent on a private island half a mile long called Dra'qa (pronounced "Drawonga"). There was no electricity, everything was lit with oil lamps and we had a gorgeous bungalow right on the beach with a torch and mosquito net (what more do you need).

    The first night there was a big kava drinking ceremony and dancing, a warm-up for the next day when we sailed to a nearby island and were greeted in the main meeting bure by the local elders. All were in full costume and while, obviously, the ensuing kava ceremony was for us tourists we didn't feel as though it was a sham. Probably for the first time in the whole 8 months it felt as though we were experiencing a real, unspoiled event that they go through as a part of their daily life.

    After, outside the bure, the village dancing group / choir put on a small display and then got us all up dancing, finishing with a Fiji-style conga, the native ladies giggling while shouting "Shake it, don't break it." Out there on the green, dancing with the villagers and surrounded by small wood shacks, huts and smiling, curious faces it felt as though we had at last found a place largely untouched by the West. Yes, we were there as tourists, but it didn't feel overly put on - more honest. One of the best, carefree afternoons we've spent in a long while.

    But enough rambling. The cruise was fantastic. It was very relaxing just sailing around postcard-perfect islands and stopping here and there for some superb snorkeling. One snorkel we managed to see a grey reef shark gliding across the reef and on another we were taken over a wreck. On the last snorkel they even threw in a free floating champagne bar a la Vietnam, to celebrate the end of the cruise. We made some great friends on the boat and people worth a big mention are: Janet, Oded, Mari and Roland. Other things we won't forget in a hurry were: the deplorable international night where every nationality group had to do a song from their country; drinking too much kava on the first night; the starlit bonfire on the beach the second night; the baked bean sandwiches for lunch.

    Back on Fiji we met up with Janet and Oded a couple of times to take in the entertainment at their hotel. One night was the ubiquitous Polynesian-style drag queen show, the other was Fijian fire walking where these crazy guys walked over red hot stones (please don't try that at home, folks).

    On our last day on Fiji we thought we'd kill some time with a gentle jet-ski safari over to a nearby island. The going was incredibly rough and most of the 30 miles was over 4ft swells with a stiff breeze to match. We had enough time to drive up a beautiful mangrove river, snorkel for lobsters and have lunch before we had to jet-ski back, change and get to the airport to catch our night flight to Hawaii.

    Everything was fine till we got off the plane at the other end. We were stiff as boards, sore and sunburnt but thought an afternoon nap and hot bath would sort us out. How wrong we were. The full extent of the damage wasn't realised until the next day when we tried to go shopping in Waikiki.

    Walking down the street, we must have looked like puppet characters from The Thunderbirds. We could hardly control our legs, steps were a nightmare (we had to use wheelchair ramps) and every 100 yards or so one of us would have to hold onto the other to stop them from falling over. Passers-by looked at us like we were drunk, especially when we would have to haul each other off restaurant chairs.

    We didn't get better for 3 days.

    Now who's idea was it to go jet-skiing? (Janet!)

    So, Hawaii. Just as getting to Australia, stepping off the plane was like reaching civilization. We went through a lot of ID checks and searches but who cared . . . we were in Hawaii, the most remote islands in the Pacific (3000 miles from anywhere) but the 50th state of the USA!

    We landed at Honolulu, on the island of Oahu and got a room in Waikiki. By some stroke of luck we got a room on the 36th floor and the views of Waikiki and Waikiki beach were fantastic. While learning how to walk again we got reacquainted with the basics of urban living: clean sheets, laundry, haircuts, shops, TGI Fridays.

    The next day we felt more adventurous, hired a car and drove around the island. We first went to Pearl Harbour to see the USS Arizona memorial - the ship and most of the 1100 crew that died are submerged 50ft under the water where the ship sank in 1941, during the attack on the harbour. The memorial spans the wreck so you can look down over it. Not so long after September 11th, there was a palpable atmosphere among the tourists there and it was quite moving.

    The rest of the day we drove along the North and Eastern coasts. Yet again, the surf was flat - but being unable to walk I'm not sure I could have surfed anyhow. Waimea Bay, on the North shore, is one of the most famous surfing spots in the world, renowned for massive waves. Not a sausage when we pulled up. Ah well, it was still fun to be there.

    The rest of the island is much different from Honolulu and Waikiki. No skyscrapers, just plenty of cutesy houses, surf shacks, tourist villages, palms and pineapples. On the East coast we found striking volcanic coastline with immense weathered cliffs.

    We were looking forward to seeing some of the other islands too.

• Week 36
  • When you think of Hawaii, many things spring to mind: palms, surfing, Pearl Harbour but above all, volcanoes (well at least to us). And nowhere is the geography more volcanic on Oahu than on the Southeast coast around Diamond Head where you get to drive around the base of some huge volcano cones.

    But nothing prepared us for the landscape of the Big Island, Hawaii, after which the island chain is named. As you drive out of the airport there are very few plants or trees at first, just miles of undisturbed lava flows all black and buckled. It was like traveling over the moon as the ground was so obviously sterile and desolate. As a consequence, the island of Hawaii isn't a big beach sort of place but it's still beautiful, dominated by the towering, dormant Mauna Kea, slightly covered in mist.

    There are no hostels or motels on Hawaii, just pricey resorts and privately owned condominiums (posh holiday flats to us Brits). We booked a superb condo apartment just South of Kona on the West coast and got on so well with the realtor (estate agent) with whom we booked it that she invited us to dinner with her family. Her husband was a charter boat skipper and had caught dinner that afternoon. We had a great night and heard some funny stories from her children about getting pulled over by the police.

    We wanted to explore Hawaii without going on a tour. There are no public buses and thanks to a Tupperware convention there were no hire cars available on the island . . . except one. A 4X4 monster pick-up truck with outsize 3 foot wheels. Driving doesn't get any more interesting than that.

    To make a day of it we picked the truck up at 7am and shot down South, stopping to take in where Captain Cook met his final demise. It felt strange to have almost followed in his footsteps around Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific, being reminded of the famous explorer's progress by monuments and place names and this was where is all ended. Further on down the road was a beautiful black sand beach where we saw a giant turtle that had come ashore and was trying to head back into the sea again.

    Finally, we reached Volcanoes National Park on the South coast, one of our highlights. Most of the volcanoes are now dormant there - which makes driving a lot easier - but there are still plenty of steaming vents, sulphur and old (only about 20 years) lava flows to keep you interested. We took the 11-mile crater rim drive which was awesome. Though it was raining we saw some amazing views of the main crater and drove over these simply indescribable, alien-looking lava flows which were still warm to the touch. There was also an 800 yard fresh lava tube that you could walk down and explore.

    The most active part of the park has lava flowing into the sea but, as you'd expect, is inaccessible. So we drove North to Hilo, halfway up the rainy East coast and took a magical helicopter ride back to the park. We flew over the coast and saw red-hot molten lava flowing into the sea and pushing up great clouds of steam into the air. We also passed over a fresh flow that was moving across a wooded area and hovered to watch the lava set the trees on fire and slowly push them over. It was one of the most amazing sights we have seen and we will never forget it. We were like kids again in the helicopter, giving each other the thumbs-up, taking photos with big ear-to-ear grins.

    To finish off we drove up Mauna Kea in the center of the island. After about 6000ft we cleared the clouds and made our way to an observatory about two thirds of the way up the mountain (about 8000ft) to go stargazing through their telescopes. Volcanoes and astronomy - a nerd's dream!

    Before leaving Hawaii we fitted in one more first - paragliding. Again, another fantastic experience, soaring 1200ft above the water on the end of a rope in your own silent world and staring down at the boats and cruise ships with nothing but air under your feet.

    And then, Maui. Another quick flight (about 20 minutes) and we settled ourselves in Kaanapali on the West coast. The island, much like the other two, was beautiful. Smaller, but again dominated by a huge dormant volcano, Haleakala, and fringed with sandy beaches. After a long day traveling we booked into a condo overlooking a golf course and got to the beach in time to see the sun go down.

• Week 37
  • Not content with relaxing on Maui and enjoying ourselves we booked a trip to see sunrise from the top of Haleakala, 12000ft or so up. So at 2:30am, we were up and waiting for the tour bus, bright and bushy-tailed (or maybe not).

    As it happened it was well worth the effort. The pitch dark, framed with stars, slowly turned to blue and crept through to orange, lighting the clouds below us in colours all the way from purple to intense gold. It was quite magical to watch the moon rise and disappear as the sun took over the horizon. Even if we did share it with another 300 or so freezing tourists. (I notice now in writing this that since about Fiji we have stopped being "travelers" or "backpackers" and become "tourists". I'm sure there's a fascinating socio-political discussion to be drawn from this, but that would be just plain dull.) Unlike 90% of the others there, though, we were the smarter ones who had gone for the less arduous, less dangerous and less expensive method of going back down the mountain - in the bus we arrived in.
    You see, these crazy folk were cycling down and Sophie and I had sworn this 9-month trip would be work, diet and exercise free.

    We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the old whaling town of Lahaina, with its manicured roads, cutesy chocolate box shops and a whacking great big Banyan tree. Back in the condo we slowly lost the power of speech and fell unconscious through lack of sleep.

    Next morning we thought we'd have a lie-in and got up at 6:30am for a day trip along the Hana highway. This stretch of road along the Eastern part of Maui gave us an idea of what most of Hawaii used to look like: remote, undeveloped and beautiful. Most of Maui's rain falls here and the scenery was gorgeous, all lush vegetation, trees and wild flowers hugging the rugged coastline.

    We had an excellent guide who explained everything and had a great sense of humour, pointing out all the "lolo" (Hawaiian for stupid) things that went on in Maui as well as the plants, sights and history. There was the tiny isolated town of Hana, Charles Lindbergh's grave (first guy to fly the Atlantic), a pineapple wine vineyard and all sorts of other eclectic and curious stops.

    Back at Kaanapali we declared a rest day for my birthday and spent the day on the beach body surfing. And, oh yes, Saucy, thanks for the birthday present!

    With a lot of effort we flew back to Honolulu. By that I mean we went through 3 searches and ID checks and waited 2 hours to board a 20-minute flight. Very "lolo" if you ask us but, then again, we weren't complaining about the extra security. Nobody was. And then, with a day in Waikiki to buy those last minute Hawaiian novelty items we caught a 6-hour flight to Los Angeles and touched down is mainland USA, our last destination.

    It was supposed to be a short drive to Sophie's friend Laurie's house but somehow we got a bit lost. Now, outside Heathrow or Cardiff International that wouldn't be too much of a problem, but at 10pm in Downtown LA all Highway Code was forgotten and we executed a U-turn and getaway squeal of the tyres the A-Team would have been proud of.

    Finally, at 10:30pm, we got to Laurie's and kissed the ground (or rather the peach cobbler she had made). It was good to be in a proper house with friends again.

    More next week,

    Starsky and Hutch

• Week 38
  • So there we were. In LA with the whole city to explore. And like the true culture hounds we are we pitched our itinerary to work our way up to the pinnacle of intellectual sights that LA has to offer.

    Monday: Universal Studios
    The Mummy Returns Experience
    Back lot Tour
    Jurassic Park III water ride (twice)
    ET ride
    Back to the Future ride
    

    Tuesday: Disneyland's California Adventure
    California Screamin' (0-60 in 4 seconds, twice)
    another 5 rides we've forgotten the names of

    Wednesday: Magic Mountain, 6 Flags
    About 15 rides in all (there were no queues) including:
    fastest switchback drop in the world
    longest drop in the world
    fastest and tallest standup roller coaster
    fastest and tallest wooden roller coaster
    fastest and tallest ride (Superman: The Escape, 0-80 in 5 seconds)
    

    You get the picture. Sophie and I regressed. Last time I was in California I was 5. Seemed to be the same mental age the second time around. We had the best time, though, and loved every second of queuing, being spun upside down or soaked and grazing on burgers and ice cream.

    Driving around LA was fun too, just getting to the theme parks. We saw all the street names from half-remembered TV shows and pulp detective novels: Sunset Boulevard, Cienega, Mulholland Drive, Santa Monica Highway, Wilshire Boulevard, Rodeo Drive. As much as cities can be annoying and claustrophobic it was great to be in the thick of it, cruising around and getting the feel of the place.

    As well as the usual haunts of tourists, the well-trod corners of Graumann's Chinese theatre and the walk of the stars we experienced a more traditional, unexplored slice of Americana - Thanksgiving. We were invited to join Laurie's parents for Thanksgiving. But before we got there Laurie wanted to show us how typical Los Angelinos prepare for all that food. When she said she would show us "The Steps", we thought that this would be some sort of health club where everyone worked out. Well, no. These were actually real steps. About 100 or so, running 600 yards down and then up a near vertical hillside. It seemed that all who were buff, tanned, lithe and extremely fit and single were clad in figure-hugging Lycra, sweating profusely and checking each other (and themselves) out. Some were holding rocks, some listening to Walkmans, some doing bizarre leg stretches but all were unified in the singular performance of killing themselves while looking good. It was as though the cast of Fame had been transported to the Krypton Factor assault course. Typical LA.

    Thanksgiving was wonderful. Laurie's parents made us feel very welcome, as did the rest of the family. It was great to be having a Christmas Day type meal with all these people around the table, in a proper home. It's made us really look forward to coming home. The food was fantastic. We ate too much (as usual) and Sophie had to roll me into the car (as usual).

    It was soon time to explore California, but before leaving we met up with some friends we met on the boat in Fiji. They took us down to check out Venice Beach and it was cool to see all the scenes you typically see on TV, the odd weirdo hanging about and all the tacky shops selling the usual tacky beach accessories or offering Tarot readings. Like Glastonbury on sea.

    We also went to see Harry Potter, the movie, and to indulge in one of my favourite American food obsessions - the 24-hour deli, second only to waffles and pancakes. There's just something very American about sitting in a booth ordering bagels from a yard-long menu late at night.

    So, we packed up again and headed out of LA for a theme park on a truly adult scale - Las Vegas. The trip was across yet another landscape we'd not experienced before, driving over the Mojave Desert. The land is a dark beige all around, punctuated by craggy hills and jagged ranges pushed up at the horizon, dotted here and there with low brush and cacti. Like driving across the vast stretches of Western Australia it was great to be out in open nothingness again.

    And then we saw Las Vegas. Bang smack in the middle of nowhere, this vast place is the fastest growing city in America. The Southern end of Las Vegas Boulevard, also known as "The Strip", is where the new, super casinos/hotels have been built, most of them huge 40-storey mammoths. The Northern end of the Strip is still dominated by the old haunts of the Rat Pack: The Stardust, The Frontier, Circus Circus. Most of the city is flat, low buildings but then the Strip is this neon eruption of flashing lights, 40-storey hotels and 400ft electronic billboards advertising magic shows and 98% payoff slots.

    It's just the bizarrest thing we've ever seen. Totally artificial and you hear the old cliché in the back of your head "None of it was built by winners". But we were caught like rabbits in the headlights and checked into the Monte Carlo. We got a room on the 31st floor with a magnificent view looking North up the Strip that we couldn't keep our eyes off at night.

    Our first night we got off to a gentle start looking around our own casino and two others, the Bellagio and the Aladdin.

    Ours was quite a simple affair; while well-decorated and clean there were no real gimmicks, just the same 5 acres of tinkling slot machines and hushed card tables as all the others. The Bellagio is the most expensive hotel in the world. It cost $1.4 Billion to complete, is built in a very Italian style and has its own $20 Million fountains that perform a different choreographed floodlit routine to music every 15 minutes at night.

    The Aladdin is built to resemble an Arabian palace and the market shops inside look like a daytime souk, with realistic birdcalls, a tromp l'oeil ceiling and thunderstorm 3 times an hour.

    That was enough for one evening.

    Viva Las Vegas.

     

• Week 39
  • The next 3 days we spent seeing as much as we had time for.  There was a lot
    to get through, so in summary:

    
    The Rio
    Reknowned all-you-can-eat buffet with dishes from nearly
    every country in the world for $10.  Casino has full-size carnival floats suspended from the ceiling that put on a show every 90 minutes.
    
    
    Harrahs
    Your average multi-million dollar casino
    
    
    Caesar's Palace
    Huge, roman style.  World's only 3D Imax ride,
    "The Race for Atlantis".  They're building a coliseum.
    
    
    Excalibur
    Built to look like an Arthurian castle.
    
    
    New York, New York
    Built to look like the NY skyline.  Has it's own indoors/outdoors rollercoaster.
    
    
    Luxor
    Built in the shape of a pyramid.  Has an Egyptian musem, a
    20-storey Sphinx and Cleopatra's needle.
    
    
    Mandaly Bay
    Luxury hotel, all rooms are suites, best (and most
    expensive) restaurants on the Strip.
    
    
    MGM Grand
    Largest hotel in the world with 5000 rooms.  Building
    another 5000 next year.
    
    
    Paris
    French themed.  Has it's own Eiffel Tower and a good
    creperie.
    
    
    Mirage
    Ageing casino with white tigers, lions, ridiculous
    narcissistic magic show (Siegfried and Roy) and a volcano that erupts outside the hotel every 15 minutes at night.
    
    
    Treasure Island
    Has a sea battle out the front four times a night where a pirate ship sinks another.
    
    
    The Venetian
    Built to look like Venice.  Beautiful hotel.  Has opera singing Gondoliers in a working canal punting through a replica of St. Marks's Square.
    
    
    Las Vegas Hilton
    Star Trek Experience.  Fantastic realistic Star Trek ride and restaurant where you can eat "the meat of the Borg".
    

    
    Now I've tried to avoid writing clichés, especially one that would upset our American friends but it HAS to be said now . . . "Only in America!"
    
    Vegas was a lot of fun and we had a great time walking about seeing all the mind-boggling sights.  Sophie even got to fulfill her dream of feeding a bucket of change into a slot machine while one cocktail waitress after another brought us complimentary drinks - cheapest beer in months.
    
    After 4 days, like I'm sure Samuel Pepys would have, we got tired of Vegas and moved on to pastures new.  An overnight stop in Bakersfield and we made San Francisco by mid afternoon the next day.
    
    San Francisco reminded us of Adelaide but on a bigger and more hilly scale. It has a lot of old, Victorian charm and restored cable cars and old electric trams to match.  As far as driving went, it reminded us of Sydney,
    as there are no left turns to be made in the city centre and it took us a teeth-gnashing hour to navigate our way around to our hotel.  The guidebook map had lied once more.
    

    Braving the rain we got a lot done over the next few days, riding the cable cars, exploring Chinatown, quaint Fisherman's Wharf and catching the ferry over to Alcatraz.  Alcatraz was a lot smaller than I remembered it, but then again I was 5 years old at the time.  It was cool to walk around and imagine
    infamous gangsters like Machine Gun Kelly and Al Capone cooped up in the tiny cells.
    
    On our last day the rain let up and we caught the bus down to Japan Centre. I remembered from being little how different it was to Chinatown and having a fabulous meal.  Cooking right on your table easily impresses kids and it easily impressed Sophie too.  We went to a Teppanyaki restaurant where the
    centre of the table was a huge hotplate.  Your meal is delivered raw to the table and the chef stands behind the hot plate, right next to you chopping, cutting and frying with a Samurai-like agility.  It's almost a show in itself to watch the flicking of the knife and spatula as he cuts and cooks the food, sending prawn tails, etc into the air.  He even built a volcano out of onion rings - a trick I'll try out at Christmas.
    
    So, probably more food-related tales next week for, I promise you, the last time.
    
    Jamie and Sophie
    

• Week 40
  • Yet another early start and we were off, over the rollercoaster roads of San Francisco, out of the rain and South down the Pacific Coastal Highway (PCH). The PCH is such a stunning route and has many imitators. The Great Ocean Road in Australia and the Western Coastal Road in New Zealand have tried to match the PCH for sheer, cliff-hanging rugged coastal beauty. We'd driven on these other two earlier in the year but there's something about the original you just can't beat.

    The scenery is totally entrancing and we felt as though we had been transported to the film "Play Misty For Me". The dark, hooded cliffs are sheer and jagged, repeating in headland after headland that are pounded by huge foaming whiteheads.

    We took our time and cruised the whole way, stopping at Monterey for lunch. There was a beautiful bucolic cannery development there that had been converted into shore-side shops and restaurants. We had some delicious clam chowder in a pontoon restaurant with the sea all around us. You could feel the waves hitting the supports underneath your feet as you watched the surf rolling in.

    Next was cutesy Carmel. Very chocolate box in appearance. Clint Eastwood was the mayor here for a while, but the town is more well known for its swathe of strict byelaws (e.g. ice cream can't be eaten in the street) and million-dollar homes. It's very clean, very neat and very exclusive. Sophie demanded to be driven around twice before we could get back on the highway.

    Further South the landscape changed again, becoming more desolate and wild. Just before we stopped for the night we pulled over to a nature viewing area where massive elephant seals were grouping to share body heat to go to sleep. They were the most humungous beasts and rather than making barking calls they seemed to gurgle like drains at each other - very odd.

    After a night at a motel in San Simeon we pushed on towards LA. We stopped for brunch in the Danish settler town of Solvang. Again, another oddity; one minute you're on Highway 1 in the heart of the California coastal lands and the next you're surrounded by windmills, Danish tea houses and hotels called "The Denmark" or "Hamlet Inn". It was a pretty place and after a quick waffle recharge and a must-buy American quilt (Sophie!) we were off again.

    By late afternoon we made it to eclectic Santa Barbara and settled in our motel for a much-needed session of diary writing, sneaking out only for the odd coffee. It felt like taking GCSEs again and we finished around eleven at night, winding down with an hour of "World's Best Police Videos".

    It took all of the next day to drive to Newport Beach at the South-Eastern end of LA. We kept to the PCH and drove through Malibu, with more mind-bogglingly huge mansions and a Porsche outside every door.

    Newport Beach is a beautiful area on a long spit of land that runs parallel to the main shore. We stayed with Roland and Mari, who we met in Fiji and were very well looked after. They took us to a bar-cum-restaurant with the world's largest selection of beers on tap (about 120). There were a lot of British beers on the menu and it reminded us of home, where we were headed in 2 days' time.

    The next day we drove to West Hills in North-West LA to meet our other friends we met in Fiji, Janet and Oded. We had a great time getting last minute nick-naks and manicures / pedicures with their daughter Nicole (and, no, I didn't get a manicure . . . but the pedicure was rather good). This backpacking lark doesn't get any more arduous.

    So, nine months and eight days after we started this little undertaking by landing at Bangkok we were boarding NZ2 from LAX, bound for London, Heathrow. It was a comfortable enough flight but we got absolutely zilch sleep. We were just too wound up about coming home, what it would be like, how we'd feel and reflecting on what we'd done, where we'd gone and who'd we met.

    Homecoming was fantastic. We breezed through passport control (a pleasant novelty), waited an eternity for our bags and slipped through customs without even a suspicious eyebrow. It was nice to see the UK was just as grim, cold and flaming miserable as it was when we left.

    In the arrival lounge we didn't even have time for butterflies as an MGM cast of family and friends was waiting for us brandishing banners and flags. We made it through without crying but it was very emotionally charged and perfect all at the same time. It was wonderful to be back home and in the bosom of our family.

    So, as Boys II Men once said, "We've come to the end of the road." It's been the most fantastic 9 months and well worth risking bankruptcy for. We shall never forget the awesome things we've seen and done, nor how lucky we are to live in the UK. Having seen a fair chunk of the world and how other peoples work, eat, sleep, travel, etc. I will never knock the UK again. The weather can be a bit grim at times but without over-dramatising, we are extremely lucky to live here.

    In the style to which we've all become accustomed at the end of eras (millennium and all that), Sophie and I have come up with some trivia facts and Top 7s associated with the trip:

    Number of hospitals visited: 5
    Number of surgeries visited: 3
    Number of ambulances ridden: 1 (thankfully)
    Number of pies eaten: many
    Number of times heard "too easy" and "you buy from me!": untold
    Miles covered: 34,000 by plane, 15,000 by car / caravan
    Best beaches: Cable beach and Coral Bay, Australia; Tanu's Beach, Samoa
    Number of times we said "I'm never coming back here again": many
    Most hated mode of transport: on the back of a Vietnamese motorbike
    

    Top 7 Best Moments:
    Bungy jumping in New Zealand
    Climbing Uluru
    Sunset over Kalbarri
    Trekking in Vietnam
    Cruising down Doubtful Sound, New Zealand
    Swimming with Manta Rays on the Ningaloo Reef, Western Australia
    Driving Western Australia
    

    Top 7 Worst Moments:
    Bungy jumping in New Zealand
    First afternoon in Saigon
    A very hot and stuffy night on Ko Tao
    Staying on the Sukumvit Road, Bangkok
    No right turns in Sydney
    Conversing with an idiot about terrorism in Aitutaki
    Larium-induced temporary psychosis in Bali
    

    At last my work is done, and I bring this web diary to a close. Thank you all for reading, waiting too many days between published weeks and putting up with some atrocious spelling and grammar.

    We're looking forward to catching up with you all in the New Year - a pie 'n' ale get-together of some kind is definitely on the cards.

    Have a Great Christmas and a Happy New Year!

    For the last time,
    Jamie and Sophie
    

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