A little about me

Well there we have it. Eight years of mollycoddling, homework, lessons, inter-house competitions and the like came to an end at the Leavers' Ball last Thursday; a final farewell to those teachers and fellow students who had made our time at City so memorable and enjoyable. 

As we were escorted off the HMS President at 2am on Friday morning, it was hard not to feel an (admittedly somewhat drunken) sense of sadness at it all being over, but there rests an inevitable excitement at the thought of what is to come in the next years.

For those of you who are reading this and wondering who it is that is still clinging on to City life by writing this blog, my name is Jake Pittman and I joined the school in 2002 and am embarking on a gap year, the reason for this blog, before going on to Bristol to read French and Spanish in 2011. In the next 15 months I'm planning to Interrail around Eastern Europe (starting tomorrow!), take advantage of my family in Australia and New Zealand by working on my tan on a few Aussie and Kiwi beaches before backpacking around South American countries such as Argentina and Peru to work on my Spanish. However, as much travelling and enjoying myself as I plan to do in the coming times, I do also plan on working hard on my return from Eastern Europe to fund my more than ambitious travels, either at the New Zealand owned Sacred Café where I currently work, or the advertising agency McCann Erickson.

Anyway, that's more or less it by way of less than interesting introductions and I better sign off in order to get some last minute packing done before my flight to Budapest tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be writing weekly while I'm away so by this time next week I expect to be somewhere suitably exotic like Montenegro if everything is going to plan! Thanks heaps to anyone taking the time to have a look at this - first time I've done anything of the sort so I hope it's legible enough and I hope you enjoy reading about my adventures over the coming year!

Buenos Aires- Last Post 04 May 2011

If there’s one thing that has always become apparent to me in months of travelling it is how quick plans can change. Whilst only a minor one, I made the decision to stay longer in Córdoba, thereby skipping Rosario and heading straight to Buenos Aires.

As planned, I went to Alta Gracia on Monday which was a very nice day trip and great to see the Che Guevara museum but upon returning to Cordoba I found myself unable to push myself to book a bus ticket on to Rosario for the next morning. I absolutely loved Cordoba, something I didn’t think I would be saying when I first arrived with no place to stay, and certainly wasn’t quite ready to leave. A large factor in my desire to stay a little longer was definitely the hostel. ‘Pewman Che’ had started to feel like home with its communal atmosphere, cosy beds, great fellow travellers and ultra-friendly owners so it was hard not to keep asking Mike, the owner, to have me for one or two more nights. Even now, in Buenos Aires, I’m considering possibly going back there to work for a month maybe in order to save some money and extend my time in South America. We shall see though, I’ve got a lot of thinking and budgeting to do in order to try and work out whether it is a practical plan or not.

Buenos Aires has so far definitely lived up to my expectations and the hype is totally justified. As well as the prolific nightlife, it is a fascinating city culturally and historically, full of variety and great for strolling through all the different barrios or neighbourhoods. There is also a quite remarkable disparity in wealth in the capital, which is no more apparent than when you arrive in Buenos Aires’ brand new Retiro bus terminal which is located across the road from a very colourful yet very squalid-looking shanty town. It is a fascinating contrast as some areas of the city are extremely classy, full of fine-dining restaurants, beautiful colonial architecture, upmarket shops and wealthy porteños yet walk a few blocks in the right direction and you’ll soon find yourself in the real working class neighbourhoods of Buenos Aires, equally beautiful and fascinating in their own right, if a little less safe.

So far I’ve taken my time exploring the different parts of the city, with many still to discover (I could walk around Buenos Aires for days) and been out every night experiencing that side of things. There is a lot of history here to get your head around too. The museum of Evita Perón, arguably the most famous Argentinean woman ever and wife of Juan Perón, gave a great insight into the Argentine political happenings of the mid 20^th century, something I had only briefly come across in my reading on Che Guevara, as well as her immense influence on the working class Argentineans.

The undisputed highlight so far however was going to the La Bombonera on Sunday, the home ground of Buenos Aires-based working class football team Boca Juniors, to watch a local derby between Boca and nearby Tigre. Boca have some of the most fiercely loyal, loud and fanatical supporters in the football world and the local derby between Boca Juniors and River Plate is one of the most intense rivalries you will find. Therefore, being packed inside their home stadium alongside said fans was quite an experience. Never have I seen a stadium so full of colour, as more and more blue and yellow banners were unfurled as kick off got closer and closer, climaxing with an explosion of Boca-coloured streamers, ticker tape and strips of torn up newspaper (a South American tradition apparently) which rained down on the pitch as the players came out. Whilst the quality of football wasn’t at all spectacular, the frenzy of the Boca supporters meant there was never a dull moment and the stands shook when they eventually scored after going down 2-0 early on. The final score of 3-3 provided plenty of excitement and the supporters celebrated as if they had won which meant the atmosphere remained electric as we left the ground. It is such a brilliant time and a definite thing to do for anyone who is a fan of football in Buenos Aires.

 

I’ve met an incredible range of very interesting people so far which is another highlight- from business owners to internet programmers, builders and spa therapists, it’s been fascinating to hear so many different stories from such different people from all over the world and therefore it’s hard to believe, with all the recommendations of all sorts flying around, that skipping Rosario will be my only change of plans on this trip.  

I ended up spending the rest of the week in Buenos Aires as it continued to be everything that I had hoped it would be and more. My new hostel, Ostinatto, was the coolest hostel building I’ve ever stayed in- a self-professed “innovative” and “chic” design complete with roof terrace, bar, mini-cinema and ping pong table AND a balcony in my dorm,  and provided the perfect base to meet a heap of fellow backpackers with whom I could explore the city. It also provided my first ever Tango experience which, with my ungainly stature, could’ve gone a lot worse. It’s a very passionate and intimate dance which is quite hard to replicate well when you’re thrust into an awkward embrace with a dance partner you’d met 5 minutes earlier. Cue awkward small talk.  

 

Something that everyone who goes to Buenos Aires should experience is a meal at La Cabrera in Palermo. It is reputedly the most famous restaurant in the capital and it’s not hard to see why- they fill up two big restaurants daily with porteños and clued-up foreigners alike clamouring to try their famous steaks and have the La Cabrera experience. We arrived without a booking after the first dinner sitting at 8.30 so were put on a waiting list and we were pleasantly surprised to find that the whole experience starts in the queue, with free glasses of posh champagne and canapés on hand for the duration of our hour-long wait. Once seated our waiter Gustavo, immaculately decked out in his traditional uniform, took us through the menu, honestly informing us that a side dish each with our steaks would be way too much food. Boy was he right. Having ordered a 500g steak myself I knew I was in for a bit of a marathon meal but I still didn’t anticipate the plethora of side dishes and sauces that were served with every piece of meat. It was delicious, of course, and I was stuffed by the end but couldn’t quite bring myself to say no to dessert to round off the experience. A mix of banana flambé, chocolate lava cake and fruit salad later I had an impressive food baby going on and waddled out of the restaurant immensely satisfied with having paid between £15 and £20 for a meal that would’ve cost probably around £50 per head back in London. The whole night was incredible and my only regret would be that it is now impossible to have another steak in Argentina as I fear it will be immensely disappointing in comparison.

 

I also rubbed shoulders with aristocracy at an international polo game between Argentina and England on none other than the Queen’s birthday. Accompanied by two Australians who were equally clueless as I was as to the rules and regulations of the sport, we arrived dressed up for the occasion at the Buenos Aires polo ground and enjoyed a few quiet drinks surrounded by English voices that would sound more at home in the home counties rather than in one of the biggest and most vibrant cities in the Southern Hemisphere. The three of us were bewildered that polo should be such a popular sport in Argentina, though I suppose with the nationwide gaucho culture it would have more reason to be a big sport here than in England. Almost as if to prove the point, the Argentine team walked all over England in what was a really cool sport to watch. The skill and hand-eye coordination was outstanding and whilst we didn’t have any idea why certain fouls were called, we were more than content to cheer every time the ball sailed through the posts (though the atmosphere was extremely tranquil compared to my experience at the football game) and enjoy what was certainly a worthwhile experience, especially for £6.

 

My penultimate day in Buenos Aires led me to La Boca (the last barrio I had to cross off the list), the notorious working class suburb of Buenos Aires which is home to El Caminito, a collection of small, colourful streets which is inevitably popular with tourists but still worth a look and probably the only part of the barrio that is completely tourist-safe as I found out. Having innocently decided to walk to El Caminito in order to see some more of San Telmo and check out the market square to buy a maté gourd (I realise I haven’t spoken much about maté but it’s more or less an Argentine institution. Similar to herbal tea in taste, it’s not rare at all to see locals walking around with their gourd full of yerba or herb drinking through the bombilla [straw] with thermos in hand to refill the gourd once empty. I’d call it overrated but I’m not sure I’d be welcome in the country much longer) as a souvenir before heading to La Boca. My route seemed simple enough and I strolled along happy-as-Larry with camera in one hand and new purchase in the other until I entered La Boca at which point almost instantaneously a police car pull up beside me to tell me that these streets were nowhere near safe for a lone gringo like myself and I should essentially peg it to the tourist area. I didn’t need telling twice but it was surprising that an area that did seem like a quiet residential street could be as dangerous as said police made out.

 

El Caminito itself was extraordinarily different, extremely colourful and sadly, completely overrun with tourists. Having encountered almost no one on my walk in to La Boca I then found out that most tourists were brought in to the ‘safe zone’, as it was put to me later, by the coach load to have a look around the massively over priced shops, eat at an expensive restaurant and pose for photos as a tango dancer. I don’t mean to sound so disappointed- it is a very pretty and different part of the city- but it was a lot more tourist-orientated than I had hoped it would be and I naively thought it would look the same as in the postcards, with people dancing full on tango in the quiet, colourful streets. Ah well, I did manage to buy an “authentic” Boca Juniors shirt for a mere 80 pesos which equates to about £13- not bad at all!

 

My last night in Buenos Aires was a great way to round off what was a quite incredible week, starting in the hostel bar, moving on to a favourite bar of ours around the corner (best music, nachos and chips in the world) which lay behind an inconspicuous red door, then to one of Buenos Aires’ best techno clubs and an after-hours pool bar, arriving back at the hostel at 9.30 the next morning in time to check out. I figured I’d sleep on my 16 hour, rather luxurious bus journey to Puerto Iguazú that evening and that I did, after fare-welling my Buenos Aires amigos.

The long bus journey passed quickly as a result, only waking for dinner and breakfast before waking up for good in Puerto Iguazú, home to the stunning Iguazú falls. There’s not much at all in the town itself but it was nice to spend an afternoon relaxing, writing, reading and sunbathing after the relentlessness of Buenos Aires. I was immensely excited when I booked the hostel to see that they had a pool but all my hopes of a cooling swim in the tropical climate were shattered as I was confronted with a filthy, tiny pool in the back yard, without anything that I could use to even attempt to clean it.

The following day was an early start however, as I headed to the Iguazú falls national park in the company of a Catalonian who had had her camera battery (that’s right, not the whole camera, they just took the battery and left the casing) robbed in Buenos Aires and had been unable to find a replacement and therefore required my services as a photographer. As if to rub the dire swimming pool situation in, the colectivo from Puerto Iguazú to the falls passed right by the most amazing, glistening, large swimming pool surrounded by deck chairs, reminiscent of a 5 star hotel so you can imagine my frustration when I found it belonged to a hostel. I tried not to think of fellow backpackers who had presumably been sunning themselves by this amazing pool as we arrived at the national park, eagerly anticipating the first sight of the world’s grandest waterfalls.

We elected to do the two main walking trails first before heading to the much talked about garganta del Diablo which proved to be the most impressive part of the falls. The two trails gave a brilliant overview of the falls, one path taking you around the top whilst the other took you lower where you could really feel the immense power of the water. All this really paled in comparison to the garganta del Diablo (literally translating as ‘the Devil’s throat’), which is reached by walking along an unassuming 1km walkway until you reach the single most powerful movement of water I’ve ever experienced. Torrents of water surge over the falls, it is undeniably beautiful and almost resembles something out of ‘Avatar’ in the sense that it is almost like you’re on another planet. The noise, the spray and the rainbows all combine to create an absolutely incredible experience that really isn’t done justice by the photos I’ve taken. Well worth a visit then.

I had to spend an extra day in Puerto Iguazú due to the bus to my next destination, Salta, being fully booked though it gave me the opportunity to do some much needed laundry, catch up on journal-writing and plan a little of the next part of my trip. Eventually, I got on the bus to Salta at 10.15am on Wednesday morning the company of the same Catalonian who was now distraught to be missing El Clásico between her Barcelona and the old enemy, Real Madrid. Almost 24 hours later we had traversed the country and arrived in the city of Salta, capital of the province bearing the same name. It was a peaceful and pretty city to spend a day, the highlight being the city-wide view from the top of Cerro San Bernadino which really was spectacular with the distant mountains in the backdrop. However, my desire to keep moving and head up north to firstly, the Quebrada de Humahuaca and then Bolivia meant that I only stayed the one night and am now in the city of San Salvador de Jujuy for the same amount of time before I head to the small town of Tilcara, which I shall use as my base to explore the Quebrada (valley). I really am looking forward to moving further north as, despite the likelihood of it being much colder than I’ve been accustomed to, the scenery is meant to be stunning with ample hiking opportunities and some ruins to check out. Pretty exciting. I’m hoping to be in Bolivia by next weekend (7^th/8^th May) which gives me roughly a week to explore the valley and check out what already seems like a very different part of Argentina.

Onwards to South America - 11 April 2011

The end of my time in New Zealand flew by, as predicted, with a very successful fishing trip being the only notable event of the final four days along with the many goodbyes that go along with leaving so many family members behind and having no idea when you’ll see them again.

The quiet month meant that I boarded my LAN flight to Santiago feeling well-rested and raring to go, though I hadn’t quite realised how much an 11 hour flight with not much sleep coupled with a 17 hour time switch (I flew out of Auckland at 17.40 on the 1st April and arrived in Santiago at 12.15 on the 1st April) can take out of you.

I therefore arrived at Santiago airport completely knackered and more than a bit jet lagged after my trip back in time and was immediately overwhelmed by a multitude of Chilean taxi drivers offering me a lift into the city. Taken completely aback, I hurried to an ATM to get some Chilean pesos with the intention of taking the cheaper bus option into town but before I knew it I had succumbed to the masses and found myself in the back of a more expensive taxi which, admittedly quite conveniently, took me to the door of my hostel.

I had no idea that this particular weekend Santiago was hosting the Lollapalooza festival and almost all hostel accommodation was completely booked up as a result. Having only seen the lack of hostel beds while at Auckland airport before flying out, I had hastily booked any place I could find with a cheapish bed and was rewarded by the worst hostel I’ve ever stayed in. I was determined not to let this sour my first day in South America so decided to stroll through the Santiago streets only to find that there really is not much to see and do in Santiago (as I had been told) apart from dodge the terrifying traffic and avoid the many stray dogs who for some reason singled me out and followed me around.

Thoroughly disillusioned and with my eyes hanging out of my head due to jetlag I made a beeline for the bus station to book a cheap (my 8 hour bus to Mendoza was almost half the price of my half hour taxi from the airport) bus over the Argentinean border to the much-more chilled out city of Mendoza. After a jetlag-marred night’s sleep and mix up at the hostel which meant I had to leave without breakfast, I sluggishly undertook the 45 minute walk to the bus station to get my bus at 8am. Despite all the awesome things I’d heard about South American bus travel I was still pleasantly surprised to get a seat that reclined to a 45 degree angle, tea and biscuits, lunch and even a screening of ‘127 hours’ (albeit in Spanish) as we drove through the stunning Andean landscape after passing through the intense Argentine border control. Definitely more like it.

I hadn’t booked accommodation in advance in Mendoza but soon found a nice enough hostel for a few nights and ventured out in to the town with a few fellow travellers. It immediately seemed more chilled out and we relaxed at various bars in town where a litre of beer costs about the equivalent of £2-3 and food is equally inexpensive. The city itself is quite modest, though the Parque San Martin is great for people watching and views over the Andes whilst Mendoza’s five different plazas are all cool to have a walk around. However the surrounding area is full of all sorts of different activities. The hostel offered trekking, paragliding, sky diving and horse riding experiences, not to mention the infamous Mendoza wine tours - the real selling point of the region.

A town called Maipu 25 minutes from Mendoza is the starting point for the tour, which you more or less do yourself by hiring a bike and cycling around any number of the 15 or so vineyards until they all close. You pay a small fee of about £2-3 in most places (some are free!) to get a rundown of the history of the vineyard and try as many wines as they want to give you, generally in pretty big portions too. There was also a liquor factory where we each had the brilliant idea of sampling their finest absinthe, a truly tear-jerking (literally!) experience and not something you’d drink for the enjoyment of it. However it was a really great day out, we made it to about 6 vineyards over the course of the afternoon and tasted some great wine. Definitely a highlight of Mendoza and a must-see for anyone going there.

Wednesday night was the night of my first overnight bus journey from Mendoza to Cordoba, Argentina’s second biggest city and a hub for students as I was told there are about seven universities in the city. I booked an executive class ticket for about £35 and received a fully reclining chair with pillow and blanket, a hot dinner, wine and Inception on the TV screen, this time in English too. A pretty luxurious journey and one of the best night’s sleep so far as it was very comfortable on there. I was meant to have my first couch surfing experience with a young Argentine in Cordoba who had promised to pick me up from the bus station when my bus arrived but he was nowhere to be seen. Two hours of wandering around the bus station without a trace of him and I was starting to get worried so ventured across town to a hostel instead, deciding that it was better to definitely have a place to stay for the night and most of all, somewhere to put my pack.

My mantra of ‘everything happens for a reason’ rang true though as I really struck gold with the hostel. It has one of the best, most helpful owners ever, a really nice homely feel, a hammock, the best beds I’ve had so far and best of all, a puppy! I’m in the middle of five nights here and loving it as I’ve made some good friends and had a few great nights out around the town. One club we ventured to was inside an old converted theatre so definitely one of the more spectacular venues I’ve been to and another bar revolved around an Alice in Wonderland theme. We also tried a ‘Car Bomb’ (ironically served in an old Irish pub) which consisted of downing a half pint of Guiness with a shot of Baileys and Irish whiskey inside. Very grim.

So all in all, Argentina has been fantastic so far. The majority of people are very welcoming and curious and also bemused as to why you’re in their country. The cities are nice and relaxing, the drivers are all budding Formula 1 drivers, the food is good (the asado is incredible), the countryside is nice and scenic and the nights out are brilliant all-night affairs starting late and ending some time the next morning. And I’ve still got Rosario and Buenos Aires, reputedly two of best Argentine cities for nightlife, to come!

Aotearoa - 30 March 2011

New Zealand is beautiful. That much, so far, is certain. It’s been a much more relaxed couple of weeks than the time I spent in Australia which worked in my favour after arriving from Sydney knackered and ill with a gastro bug that had afflicted the city.

The weather so far has been absolutely astoundingly good considering summer has officially ended and therefore many a day has been spent kicking back on the picturesque beach adjacent to the aforementioned Mount Maunganui. Since the month is essentially a stopover to spend some time with the family I won’t be doing much travelling at all around the country and sadly won’t be making a trip down to the very popular South Island, a hub for all sorts of adventure sports as well as home of the stunning Milford Sound and Fiordlands for those who are interested in going.

There is enough to keep you occupied around Mount Maunganui though and due to its situation in the Bay of Plenty one of its main attractions is the bay’s abundance of wildlife as I found out when swimming with dolphins out by the continental shelf which lies someway offshore. It’s an incredible experience just watching and marvelling at the immense intelligence and playfulness of the dolphins in the bay, let alone swimming with them in the bluest water you could imagine. The trip was very informative and among the points of interest was the fact that dolphins can mate up to 70 times in one day- a pretty impressive figure!

I have managed to explore one or two parts of the North Island, however- my weekend home of Ngatea offers a considerably slower pace of life than that of the Square Mile with a population of only a few thousand but it was a great base from which to explore the stunning Coromandel Peninsula. This extraordinary stretch of coastline stretches for many miles all around the peninsula, and is lined by several seaside towns, some of which are distinctly ordinary whilst others are more unassuming and quietly beautiful. My personal favourite was the quaint town of Hahei on the eastern side of the peninsula as it is a bit more off-the-beaten-track and less commercial/touristy than nearby Whitianga and Whangamata. The town’s main attraction, Hahei beach, is nice enough and nearby Hot Water beach, where digging into the sand at low-tide produces natural hot water pools, is quite novel but it is nearby Cathedral Cove which really makes a short stay in the town worthwhile.

The cove is reached via a 40 minute walk and even the awesome views from the car park cannot quite ready you for the reward at the end of the hike down to the beach. It is as close as I have come to paradise on Earth and the scorching weather did in no way ease that impression. Firstly, as the area is protected there is not a high rise or holiday resort in sight, just a small untouched stretch of perfectly white sand set in a stunning cove with waves that were seemingly made for bodysurfing. I’d go so far as to say it’s possibly the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to and believe me, with my Australian and New Zealand roots, beaches are one thing I’ve seen plenty of.

Asides from the Coromandel Peninsula, I have also spent weekends in Rotorua and Auckland. Rotorua is well known as a bit of a tourist hub on the North Island and is built on the banks of Lake Rotorua as well as on top of an area of great geothermal activity. This means that many areas of the town are home to huge geysers which erupt at the same time every day, as well as pools of boiling hot sulphuric mud and water which therefore means it’s probably up there with the smelliest towns in the world... Rotorua is also home to quite a large indigenous Maori population who mainly thrive on making money off tourists who pay extortionate amounts of money to enter their villages and have a look around. Don’t get me wrong, the Maori have quite an interesting culture (films such as Whale Rider, Boy and Once Were Warriors are all must sees), are generally really cool people and produce some of the most amazing and unique artwork and carvings in the world but paying a large amount of money to walk around certain parts of the town is a bitter pill to swallow when you’re on a backpacker budget but still keen to learn about their way of life. Right, rant over.

Having travelled to Rotorua with my family who, having used the town as a holiday destination for many-a-year, were more interested in taking advantage of the many adventure activities on offer instead of anything of cultural significance, I soon found myself whizzing down the giant Luge, ten-pin bowling, drift-karting, power boating (easily the pick of the aforementioned activities) and finally, for the first time in my life, bungee-jumping! Having been slightly peer-pressured into taking a 43 metre leap of faith, I was harnessed, psyched up and having pushed my slight fear of heights to the back of my head, gingerly fell out of the bungee tower. The staff shouting “Wait! Wait!” from back in the tower as I jumped did nothing to ease the undeniable sense of terror I felt during the free fall, though after the bungee cord reassuringly catches you it soon turns to joy and one of the coolest rushes I’ve ever felt. I reckon I would do it again, though the world’s highest bungee- the 143m Nevis in Queenstown, South Island with a 8.5s freefall- might be pushing it a bit.

I decided to stay in Rotorua an extra night in order to explore some of the town solo and was able to visit a jade stone carving workshop where various different tiki are produced. Pounamu, as jade is known to the Maori, is extremely sacred and it is believed each individual stone has its own unique qualities. It is therefore down to the carver to find their stone’s ‘strengths’ which are then exploited to create a highly unique tiki carving. Tiki have been given and worn by the Maori for centuries and each one has its own story and meaning; they are also believed to hold great power and are highly treasured gifts to friends, family and lovers alike. Common meanings include respect for the ocean (a popular choice for travellers), unity, new life and strength in the face of adversity. I found all this fascinating and perused the shop for much longer than I should have before choosing a tiki, or as the patroness put it, it chose me. Touché. 

The extra night also gave me the opportunity to meet up with fellow City 2010 leavers Josh Hirschowitz and Simon Moses for a few hours of catching up and story swapping as we had all been travelling through Australia and New Zealand for the previous few months. It was quite bizarre seeing faces I was used to seeing in a school environment in an obscure town in New Zealand but awesome nonetheless.

A week's worth of adventure in Tasmania - 21 March 2011

As speculated in my previous entry, soon after my return to Sydney from Alice Springs I decided that my next destination within Australia would be the little-spoken about, often ridiculed and off the beaten track island state of Tasmania.

Whilst ignoring the cries of my Sydney-sider friends that Tassie is a land of “inbreds” with crap weather, the history of Tasmania as a penal colony and a plethora of seemingly stunning photographs on Google images persuaded me far more than any mainland prejudices that the island would be a worthwhile place for a week’s worth of adventure and exploration.

My first stop was the state’s capital, Hobart, which became Australia’s second oldest city after Sydney when it was founded in 1803 as part of what was then Van Diemen’s Land, a penal colony used by the British for their most dangerous criminals. Hobart nowadays is a lively city of only 200,000, though this is easily the largest populace on the island, and boasts a beautiful harbour much bigger than that of its more publicised Sydney counterpart.

After an afternoon of exploring Hobart in deceptively beautiful weather I joined my tour group and ventured up the coast to the Freycinet National Park, home of stunning Wineglass Bay. It didn’t take long for Tasmania’s beauty to become apparent and the misconceptions of my mainland friends were soon forgotten as we drove through rolling countryside and farmland which soon led to the dramatic coastline of the national park. Upon arrival a series of options were given regarding hiking options and being ten years the junior of any other member of the tour group, I was the only one to raise their hand when offered the prospect of the toughest and most rewarding hike to the peak of nearby Mount Amos.

Armed with plenty of sun cream (Tasmania has some of the thinnest ozone layer on the planet, despite ironically being by far the greenest of Australia’s six states with 80% of its energy coming from hydroelectric power, and therefore a forecast of 22 degrees can easily feel like 30+ in direct sunlight) and my youthful enthusiasm, I scaled the peak in just over an hour and was rewarded with easily one of the most unique and beautiful views I’ve experienced on my travels over Wineglass Bay. Reputedly one of the top 10 beaches in the world, the bay easily lived up to its reputation in my opinion and unfortunately the photographs just do not do justice to the majesty of the setting and the distance you can see for on a clear day such as the one I was lucky enough to have.

We spent the night in the quaint little seaside town of Bicheno, well worth a visit, where I met a couple of fellow students from Hobart in the hostel where we stayed who offered to show me around the capital when I returned for the weekend. This after we had shared the surreal experience of going for a midnight swim with a really quite drunk 50-year-old French lady from my tour who informed us she was a naturist and had no qualms about chasing us around in the nude.

The second day of the tour began with a trip to the Bay of Fires, which Lonely Planet named their number 1 global destination in 2009. Sadly, the Tasmanian weather refused to hold out any longer and we were treated to a huge downpour which unfortunately meant that the Bay of Fires didn’t quite look as photogenic as those sunny pics from Google images. However it didn’t stop me from having a little adventure around the bay, scrambling across boulders covered in orange lichen (which is meant to prove that Tasmania has some of the cleanest air in the world) and marvelling at the incredible turquoise colour of the sea. For any potential visitors, go there in sunny weather, take the option of camping by the beach and spend a couple of days exploring as there is plenty to see and it is remarkably untouched.

Other highlights of the tour included climbing to the summit of the dramatic 5000ft Cradle Mountain, albeit in rather heavy cloud which made the climb both more challenging and dare I say, a little more scary as it became very hard to follow the recommended route which was only marked by several ski poles impaled in the odd boulder. The heavy cloud lingered as I reached the peak but as soon as it cleared I was treated to the most incredible views of Dove Lake below and other surrounding peaks. I had been all alone on my climb but I was eventually joined at the top by a young Japanese traveller who, upon asking me to take a photo of him on the summit, stripped off his shirt, his trousers, his thermal underwear and finally, his boxers so that all of a sudden I was taking a photo of a stark naked Japanese guy I’d never seen before on top of a remote mountain in Tasmania. Apparently it’s a Japanese tradition so there you go. Suffice to say that I politely refused his offer of returning the favour and taking a similar picture of me and swiftly headed back down the mountain instead.

The remainder of the tour was spent exploring the west coast of Tasmania, an area extremely different to the lush coastline of the east, where seaside holiday parks are for the most part replaced by less inspiring, often gloomy mining towns and rainforests take the place of rolling countryside. Nevertheless, there is still plenty to see and a wealth of interesting treks, the pick of the bunch being the 80km Overland Trail between Cradle Mountain and Lake St. Clair- definitely one for future adventures.

I spent my final weekend back in Hobart where I was lucky enough to have the company of the aforementioned Tassie girls I’d met whilst on tour and who were kind enough to show me the rather subdued Hobart nightlife on Saturday night as well as an Australian film festival the following night. Overall, it was a brilliant week full of great experiences and stunning sights, though incomparable to my Alice Springs trip as both places are different in so many ways- the Tasmanian weather was a great deal colder than Alice Springs or even London in peak summer for that matter, not sure I’d want to deal with a winter in Hobart!

My final days in Sydney were pretty action packed; a few good nights out with new and old friends, my first swim on famous Bondi beach after the stunning Bronte-Bondi coastal walk, a few days in beautiful Newcastle, dinner in The Rocks (the well-preserved site of the first settlement on Sydney Harbour), my third Gaslight Anthem gig (surely one of the best live bands around?) and a farewell dinner with my Australian family. It brought an end to a fantastic three months in an equally fantastic country and I left with the feeling I could’ve easily spent the whole 7 months worth of my travels in Australia alone, taking in all of the country’s incredible sights and history.

There is still much of the nation that I am yet to explore though I leave knowing I will definitely be back at some point in the next few years. For those interested in visiting Australia, I would wholeheartedly recommend visits to any of Sydney, Melbourne, Alice Springs and the surrounding area, Tasmania, Newcastle and the south coast of New South Wales as they are all awesome but I’d advise waiting until the Australian dollar weakens as it is a very expensive country to visit at the moment.

After saying my goodbyes, it was only a short flight across the Tasman Strait to neighbouring New Zealand for a month’s stay with my mother’s side of my family whom I hadn’t seen in almost five years. My base for the month is Tauranga, a coastal city on the North Island (plenty far enough away from Christchurch for those who were worried) where I’m staying with my grandparents. It’s a great place, marked by impressive Mount Maunganui (or Mauao as it is called by the Maori, to whom it is sacred) on the beachfront which attracts over 1 million visitors every year (quite a significant number for New Zealand) and provides some of the finest views I’ve seen on my trip so far from its summit. I’m also passing my weekends in the tiny country farming town of Ngatea, an hour and a half from Auckland, home of my cousins, Uncle and Aunt which will be my base to explore the apparently stunning Coromandel Peninsula.

In the coming weeks I’m planning on spending plenty of time on the beach, as I have done already in my first week, exploring the surrounding area, swimming with dolphins in the aptly named Bay of Plenty, visiting the famous geysers of Rotorua and possibly undertaking my first bungee jump as well as speeding around the world’s only purpose-built Blokarting track. All this before I set off on the grand voyage to South America on the 1^st April so I will be sure to keep you updated on another action-packed month in another very beautiful, yet very different country.

Melbourne, Ayer's Rock and more - 25 February 2011

Again I have done a wonderful job of neglecting my writing duties so apologies to all those who have read and are reading this blog: I suppose if anything it shows that I’m certainly keeping myself busy at the moment and that there is more than enough to do here in Australia!

 

I hope everyone had a very merry festive season and enjoyed the new year’s celebrations; hope it wasn’t too cold, though I hear the temperatures are now reaching the lofty heights of 7 degrees! I had the surreal experience of spending Christmas with all the Australian side of my family, something I haven’t done in living memory, opening presents in 30 degree heat (bit of a change) and having a cold seafood Christmas lunch which doubtless made me miss good old English roast turkey with all the trimmings. However it was great to be able to spend that time with family who I’d only been able to see once or twice in the past five years.

Next stop was Melbourne on Boxing Day to stay with a colleague whom I’d worked with back in London. Fortunately for me, she is a member at the Melbourne Cricket Ground so it was with great excitement and anticipation that I arrived at the monumental ground on the 27^th December for the second day of the Boxing Day test match. Those who appreciate cricket and realise what a sacred occasion the Ashes is to a cricket lover will understand my excitement and how amazing an experience it was to watch a full day of good cricket with a crowd of 65000 in one of the world’s best cricket venues. Those who find cricket tedious and a waste of time (namely those who don’t understand the intricacies of the game) will think I’m a nutter.

          

After satisfying both my British and Australian nationalities with a few early English wickets followed by a plethora of English runs, I rounded off the day with a stroll through the Melbourne city centre and a taste of the local nightlife. It is an astoundingly laid back city, much more so than Sydney which can appear very hectic and convoluted in the centre (a combination of tourists and commuters will do that as we Londoners know), with a beautiful and peaceful waterfront setting and is also gifted with a great café and bar culture. Whilst it doesn’t possess beaches of the same majesty as the coast of Sydney and the rest of New South Wales, the well-known stretch of coast south-west of Melbourne known as the Great Ocean Road is arguably even more spectacular.

I was lucky enough to see it all from the passenger seat of my friend’s car, not through a coach window as so many people I’ve met have done, and it was simply incredible. Miles and miles of unadulterated, natural beauty that has been weathered by the winds over many years to form what is surely one of the most picturesque drives in the world? The Twelve Apostles were predictably one of the highlights of the drive, despite being the only place where you had to battle against hordes of tourists to get a picture- anyone visiting Australia should make the visit and if possible do it in a rental car or campervan, it’d be so much cooler than in a coach.

I spent January rather uneventfully working in my beautiful beach side café in Cronulla, Sydney. For those that are interested, my skills as a barista have immeasurably improved and it is somewhat worrying that I enjoy making coffee so much- especially with a university place beckoning in October. I’ve tasted the best coffee from countries such as Bolivia, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Ethiopia and my personal favourite, El Salvador, as well as improving my latte art, something the average Starbucks/Costa/Caffe Nero employee wouldn’t understand.

             

Right, I digressed. Sydney in January was rounded off by the Big Day Out music festival- essentially a day packed with some of the world’s best bands playing in Sydney’s Olympic Park. I bore witness to the magic of Gypsy and the Cat (great new Aussie act, check them out), Lupe Fiasco, Plan B, Angus & Julia Stone (another amazing new Aussie act), Crystal Castles, Iggy Pop, Rammstein, Pnau and several others. I was also treated to a day of meeting distant family members whom I had not seen since I was about 3 or 4 years of age in the beautiful Broken Bay area of NSW, where I also tried my hand at my new favourite hobby: lawn bowls. A fantastic game I might add and a lot harder than it looks.

A whole month of working had left me with plentiful supplies of spare Australian dollars which allowed me to pay for a week-long trip to Alice Springs in the centre of Australia in order to do a 3 day, 2 night tour to Uluru (Ayer’s Rock), Kata Tjuta (The Olgas) and King’s Canyon. Without sounding like a broken record it was an incredible experience. The whole 3 days were a lot of fun; I’ve always been dubious of going on tours but it felt like I was on a road trip with several really good mates, 300 tinnies (cans of beer for those not schooled in Aussie lingo) in the back and an awesome Kiwi guide/DJ/cook/driver.

Uluru is staggeringly large and beautiful and of course, highly sacred to the indigenous Australians whose culture and history we learnt a lot about during the course of the tour: a fascinating history steeped in brutality and hypocrisy on the part of the occupying British as they essentially tried to deprive the Aboriginals of their culture. Walking around the base gives you a good sense of the enormity of it, as well as its power and significance to the Aboriginal community. For this reason, as well as the fact that the Aboriginals themselves are against it,  I wouldn’t consider climbing Uluru (you are still allowed to) and would implore any of you that do visit it to not to the climb and instead respect their wishes- there are several other reasons not to but I shan’t bore you, you’ll have to go and find out for yourselves!

We were lucky enough to witness a glorious sunset and sunrise at Uluru before hiking through the slightly spooky Kata Tjuta, another deeply sacred Aboriginal site where secret male rituals take place and unfortunately for us, the temperature hits 40 degrees plus at about 9 in the morning! King’s Canyon, an old Aboriginal hunting ground also made for a great hike and stunning scenery so again, I would recommend a visit to all three places and if you can sleep out under the stars then go for it as it is by far the most spectacular night sky you will ever see. The whole trip is very interesting and also deeply spiritual once you learn of the Aboriginal way of life and their creation stories so if you’re up for it then book on the Rock Tour and ask for Sam- you won’t regret it!

Alice Springs itself is a nice town and contrary to my own misconception, is actually about 550km from Uluru, not next door as I previously believed, but regardless there is a huge amount to do there in terms of hiking and exploring the surrounding area, as well as visiting the numerous Aboriginal art galleries in town. I can’t say much of the nightlife though.

Since my return a couple of days ago I have been back at work for a few days but I am soon to finish and am hoping to spend my hard earned cash on flying to a part of Australia that a lot of people don’t even consider visiting- the lovely island state of Tasmania. Watch this space for my new year’s resolution was to write more often on this blog! Promise!

Australia for Christmas - 15 December 2010

It’s hard to believe all this time has passed so quickly and the second, longer and more adventurous stage of this gap year is underway.

I apologise for neglecting this blog so badly, though my reasons for this are that I felt reading about me making coffee at my Westfield café every week would not be the most riveting way to pass time. I was, however, given a pay rise and made an assistant manager upon my return to the café so that helped with all the saving I needed to do before I went travelling again. The café also left with me with some great contacts in the part of the world I was heading to; at the time of leaving I had a ticket to the Boxing Day ashes test in Melbourne and places to stay in Auckland and Wellington.

Berlin, Paris and back home to London - 16 August 2010