It doesn't rain, it bores

On Boxing Day I got up late and hung in my hammock for a bit, then I went for a short swim in the very warm sea. In the evening I went to an English pub called the Frog and Gecko to watch one of the Premier League football matches that they were broadcasting from home, Spurs v Fulham to be precise. It's a good job I had nothing better to do, because the game was rubbish and ended 0-0. I don't think I've ever seen Tottenham score a goal.

The next day I got up late again, hung about in a hammock, swam in the sea, etc. It just wouldn't do, and I wasn't even enjoying lazing about in the sun that much, if anything I found it quite tedious. Australia, for want of someone to blame, had made me a very sloppy traveller. Backpacking in that country is just so easy, I simply wasn't making an effort any more. I was probably waiting for a bus driver to arrange everything for me. So fun was Australia too, and so whirlwind had my days been before Ko Samui, that suddenly being on my own with nothing to do was like landing with a nasty bump, and frankly I just wasn't happy. I decided to put things in to perspective. Afterall, I was no more alone than I was during my time in New York, or San Francisco, or Auckland. And scanning my mind back four months, I recall that I expected to be alone on this trip far more often than I actuallly have been. So things weren't so bad, really. I then decided to do something about being so bored.

I found a tour agency, of which there are lots in Samui, and simply said "I'm bored, what can you do?" I was given a couple of leaflets on quad biking trips, and some more on boat tours of Angthong National Park, not far from Ko Samui. I signed up for both, as I'd enjoyed quad biking in Oz, and Angthong seemed like a must-do. The very act of booking these trips cheered me up immensely. I wondered why I hadn't done it sooner. I'd timed it thus: the rest of that day I would spend planning the rest of my time in Thailand, the next day I would go quad biking, the day after that I would check out Chaweng, where all the other backpackers are, and the day after that I would do Angthong. And, I was pretty sure I hadn't been ripped off. Agents for specific areas, I found, tend to have pretty similar prices to each other, for there is competition, and they know you're gonna shop around. Not like Bangkok, where Thailand newbies seem to be very much taken advantage of.

I arrived at the quad bike centre and met the other people who were going to do the trip. As it turned out, there were only two others taking part, an Australian couple on a three week holiday. They were very nice people indeed, and a good laugh to bomb around with. The ride was really a tour of the mountain areas of Ko Samui, and the track rarely departed from nice tarmac'd roads. Not that it wasn't fun. We reached the hightest point on the island and took in some fantastic views. Lunch was included, and this was at a very attractive restaurant high up among the trees. The food there I think was some of the best I've had in Thailand. After finishing with the quad bikes, I headed back to my beach. Not much going on there again. I got an early night.

Around midday the next day I caught a lift to Chaweng. Not in a taxi, but in a songthaew, a sort of pick-up truck bus thing that will just take you from the side of the road and bundle you in the back with other skint passengers. It's exciting. Chaweng is clearly where all the action is, and again I wondered why I hadn't come to these parts sooner. It's bustling with activity, shops, markets, bars, restaurants and heavy traffic. I felt more comfortable here, and it wasn't long before I stepped in to a bar. It was called Tropical Murphy's, which I thought was a great name for an Irish pub in Thailand. In here I got talking to some more Australians, and they invited me to come with them to the next place, which turned out to be Samui's most popular beach bar. Loud music, bright lights, crazy people. This was more like how I expected Thailand to be. By the end of the night though, I was grateful to go back to my little quiet spot in Bo Phut.

Waking with my worst hangover in weeks, I got ready for my tour of the Angthong national park and waited outside for the company's bus to collect me. I did this for about an hour before I decided it was a bit late, and after some phone calls was instructed to wait further down the road. The bus never turned up in the end. Instead, the boat came and picked me up from the beach directly. This should've felt like a privilege I suppose, but actually it was quite embarrassing, considering everyone else had made it without any troubles. After about an hour we rocked up to the first island in Angthong and did some snorkelling. Some very beautiful coral and marine life was to be seen, and the water was crystal clear. Too soon it seemed, we were whisked away to a beach spot, then out to sea for kayaking. Being on my own, I went out with the guide, which turned out to be the best ride, as we had to go and save people who had capsized and such, which gave us more purpose than just bopping about in a boat for a bit. Returning to the beach for lunch, I met some very cool people from England, Australia and America. The scenery, a collection of limestone islands jutting out of the sea, was breathtaking, it has to be said. Soon we were off to see the stunning Emerald Lake, a 'sinkhole lake' within a mountain. Then time to go home - they dropped me off at the beach by my accommodation again, which makes sense I guess, but I never had a chance to swap details with the friends I met, so actually I was a bit upset. Only a little bit though. Nonetheless, it was a thoroughly good day out.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, when I head to Ko Pha Ngan for what I've heard is an utterly insane party. Not only that, but I'm in the sort-of unique position of seeing in not only the year 2010, but also 2553, as that is the year in Thailand. I hope you all have a wonderful New Years, too.

Christmas is rubbish

I landed in Bangkok at about 11.30pm, exchanged my currency at the airport and with some trepidation, stepped outside to find some sort of transport to my hostel. This was rather easy and worked on a ticketing system, although I did walk the wrong way for a bit at first. I stepped in my cab, asked for it to be charged to the meter, to which the driver happily complied, and off I was. I was in Asia! I was very excited about this. A whole new angle to my journey. The driver was chatty and friendly, and although claiming not to know the whereabouts of my hostel, arrived at it straight away. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this was the exact opposite of how taxi drivers in Thailand operate. It was about 1am when I checked in, and I quietely snuck in to bed.

I awoke the next morning not really wanting to face the outside. I knew Bangkok was a busy, busy place and I could hear it through the windows. My first concern after showering was what the people here had for breakfast. Surely not Pad Thai and green curry? This small fear was put to rest when I got downstairs and found that the in-house bar would make me a 'special continental breakfast' of toast, croissant and boiled egg for the equivalent of just a couple of quid. I finished this off, and as if taking a plunge in to cold water, stepped outside to greet the city.

A habit of mine when I get to somewhere new is to simply go out and walk. No plans, no itinerary, just getting a feel of the place by wandering around it. This course of action is not wise in somewhere like Bangkok, I soon discovered. You must stride with purpose. The people can sense aimlessness like sharks sense blood. Tuk tuk and taxi drivers were persistent but easy enough to shake off with a smile and a 'no thanks', but when an old lady began speaking to me in the street I wasn't even a bit cautious. I'd heard Thais were very friendly, and she was asking about what my plans were in the country, which seemed nice. She suggested I visit a tourist information office up the street behind us. I told her I might check it out, but this wasn't enough - she wanted to show me exactly where it was. And it wasn't a short walk. We arrived and she put me in a seat in front of a suited man, then cleared off. Slightly flummoxed, I began to explain to the man, who called himself Eddy, what I needed for the next couple of weeks. He sold me accommodation, a trek to do in Chiang Mai in the north of the country, train and bus tickets. He even offered to arrange my Indian Visa for me. He offered me a price, which seemed fair at the time, and I was happy that everything had been sorted for the next couple of weeks. I could relax.

In the evening, some hours later, yet another friendly Thai person who called himself Tom spotted me as I walked past a temple. He told me he recognised me from the tourist office, as he worked there. He offered to show me around, and seeing as I had no other plans, I accepted. He showed me some temples, then suggested we take a boat ride, which I again said yes to. Tom wanted to show me the 'real' Thailand, and actually it didn't disappoint. The boat went out of the city and in to the areas where the houses are built on the river and people live more simply. It was fascinating. "Back there" said Tom, "it's a London. It's a Tokyo. It's a New York. On this side is Thailand". I didn't like to tell him how unlike London is to Bangkok, so I just nodded. We got back to the city and we got a tuk tuk back to where we had met. He wanted me to come with him to see some sort of ping-pong show, but I'm not that interested in sport, so instead we agreed to meet the next evening.

Now I'm not so dim that I didn't realise that some of this stuff might not just be friendly hospitatility on the part of the people of Bangkok. The thing with the old lady - well it wasn't a scam I'd read about, but I was curious to know if other people had come across something similar. A quick search online revealed that it was exactly the sort of thing that that particular tour agency did regularly. I instantly felt like a mug. I worried about the legitmacy of it all. What if it were all fake? And Tom? Well I wasn't sure what to think about him. I'd paid him no money, and he even covered the cost of the tuk tuk afterall. Maybe he was just a nice guy. But maybe he was getting some commission from the boat people or something. I started the next day in a cloud of paranoia, and it was to be my last day in Bangkok before heading to Chiang Mai. That's if the train ticket was real.

I negotiated what I thought was a fair price with a Tuk Tuk driver to take me to the river, then I was to take a boat up to the Grand Palace. I almost certainly paid too much for the boat. The Grand Palace, I suppose the Thai equivalent of Buckingham Palace, was very interesting and very beautiful. I spent a few hours there before stepping out for lunch. Outside, an old woman shoved some corn in my hand then made me feed it to some pigeons. She charged me 150 baht for the pleasure. We got in to an argument and I ended up paying 90 just to get rid of her. How could I be so stupid? I was so cross with myself for letting that happen, for going to that stupid agency and for getting taken for a ride with Tom. I'd read about all the scams and I was doing nothing about it. I walked around feeling grumpy for a bit. More people tried to sell me things, but I told them to clear off. To get back to the hostel I waved down a taxi, but the driver was honest enough to refuse on account that it was too far. The next taxi refused to use the meter so I refused his services, or anybody's in fact - I decided to walk back, a distance of about five miles. It gave me time to cool down a bit and actually I saw a great deal of Bangkok in that time. On my return I treated myself to a beer, and I decided that I wouldn't meet Tom. It all seemed too dodgy.


In my dorm at the hostel was an English girl called Debbie, who was relaxing on her bed. We got talking, and although neither of us were in the mood for socialising, we both took up the offer of going out with a group from the hostel, many of them Dutch or Australian. We went to the skytower, where you can have a very classy drink and you have no idea that the streets below are so polluted and foul smelling. We then went to Khao San road, which is at the opposite end of the class spectrum. Vibrant, sleezy, with bright lights, and cocktails served in plastic buckets. Me and Debbie went and had our feet nibbled by fish, which is a must-do in Asia in my opinion. Later we went clubbing at a place called 'The Club'. Wicked name for a club.

The next morning I left for Chiang Mai on what turned out to be a valid train ticket. This gave me some hope for the other things I'd bought from Eddy at the agency. Arriving in Chiang Mai, I was briefed about the next day's trek and shown to my regal quarters at what was clearly an upmarket establishment. What more can one ask for when one's bed linen is decorated with Disney's Alice in Wonderland and the shower appears to be attached to the toilet? Yeah, Eddy appeared to have let me down a little on this one. Nevermind, I slept and was collected the next day for my three day trek in to the jungle by the guide, named Book.

In the truck towards the start of the tour I got speaking to my fellow trekkers, and it seemed I wasn't the only one led astray by an old lady and fleeced by an agency. And these people seemed pretty bright. I started to feel a bit better about myself and my experiences in Bangkok. It seemed anyone of European ancestry was bound for the same treatment. Myself and a German man called Chris agreed that it wasn't even the money that was the issue - it was that it had been cheated out of you that was the most offending thing. I decided to treat the whole situation as a learning experience and to tread more carefully for the rest of my time in the east. Above all, I wasn't going to be hung up about it any more. Such concerns would surely ruin the trip.

So the first day was spent trekking through forest, stopping for a swim at a waterfall and having a look round a temple where monks seemed to reside. Hanging up to dry by the temple were some orange robes alongside a Manchester United towel. They really love football here. In the evening we were shown our accommodation - some pretty basic but comfortable huts - and then chilled out with some beers as Book made us all dinner. As night drew in we all sat around a camp fire talking, and I somehow got involved in a game where I got attached to a Swiss girl and we had to find a way of unattaching ourselves. Hilarity ensued. We were unsuccessful but the whole thing was pretty fun and everyone got involved.

The next day our group split up, which was sad, for some of us were only taking part for two days. The hardcore among us continued in to the jungle. We stopped at a swimming spot for lunch, where the water was cool and clear. The meal - some noodles with vegetables - was packaged in a big leaf and wrapped up like a present. We visited an elephant 'farm' on the way to where we were staying for the night, which was a novelty, but personally I didn't like to see them tied up with chains, and such short chains too. One of the elephants was apparently going 'crazy' and who could blame him? Truth is, he was probably just not so well behaved, or had simply had enough.

After dinner, our group socialised with another. More beer was had, and Book was passing around some of his locally made whisky, his favourite tipple. Book was a lovely guy and we got on pretty well - he invited me to a party the next night and to stay round his house with his family, which sounded like a really exciting opportunity. The night went on, and I'd made friends with a Kiwi called Petra (and her mum), a Swede named Emelie and a Dutch man named Emille. Things were much roudier than the night before, and a few too many drinks by the other group's guide - called Rambo - caused some tension before we decided to draw the evening to a close.

The next day was the highlight, where we took part in some activities. These were riding on a bamboo raft downriver and an elephant ride. The bamboo rafting was very relaxing and made a welcome change from all the walking. The elephant ride was certainly an experience, but again the animals appeared to be treated badly and I was pleased to get away from the place. Soon enough, we were all being dropped back at our respective hotels in Chiang Mai, and myself and Book arranged that he would meet me later to go to the party. By the time he arrived I noticed a slight pain in my stomach and a dizzy feeling. He explained, with apologies, that he had to work the next day and couldn't attend the party, so the night was off. I pretended to be disappointed, but secretly it was a blessing. To compensate he rode me around Chiang Mai on his motorbike for a bit before stopping for some street food and whisky. He then offered to take me to the Sunday Market, but I had to decline. I returned to my hotel and was sick.

I felt in a similar state the next morning, and laid in most of the day. I mustered enough energy to go out and buy some water, and to check e-mails. There was one from Petra. She said we should deffo meet up before the 29th. I agreed with this, but I was to leave on the 22nd, which was the next day. In spite of being ill, I told her meeting up was a good idea.

I met Petra and her mum at their hotel, which was much nicer than mine. We had a meal together - Italian, which was easier for me to stomach than Thai - and then me and Petra went for a few drinks on our own. I suggested she travel down to Ko Samui with me, and stupidly, she agreed. I met her at the train station the next day, and after stopping over in Bangkok, we went together to see if Eddy could get her on the same night bus as me to Ko Samui. "Yes there is space, Mr. Bennett, 950 baht".
"Right," I said "but we've already been offered 900, could you do it for that?"
Eddy laughed as if to suggest if I were going to start haggling, I should've started much lower.
"Of course Mr. Bennett, you're my best customer!" Too right I was. In fact what he really meant was "of course Mr. Bennett, you're an enourmous mug and I love it". I'm an honest Englishman, and haggling is not something I'm well practised at. I must improve.
We caught the bus later, but sadly it was now Petra's turn to feel unwell. The bus journey was over 12 hours long, and it wasn't the most comfortable ride. Petra found solice sleeping, or trying to, on the floor of the bus, in between instances of being sick. I tried to be comforting towards her, but probably was just patronising.

Eventually the bus ride finished, we got a ferry over to Samui and we checked in to our accommodation, which was a hut right on the beach. It was good enough, but Eddy could've done better I reckon. Palm trees, blue sea, sandy beach. Pretty much heaven. In fact the sea, the gulf of Thailand, is the warmest I've swum in ever. Petra was keen to do a scuba diving course before New Years, so we shopped about for a good deal to get her over to Ko Tao, where most of the diving takes place. A man at one of the offices, who I decided was from somewhere like Bolton (although Petra thought he was Irish - I'll never apologise again for muddling Kiwi and Aussie accents), had clearly found that the best way to speak to the locals was in their version of English. "Heylo. I have client here, want to do course, can you make cheaper little bit?" It was funny at the time.

We went to a really chilled out restaurant for dinner that night. It hardly felt like Christmas Eve at all, which was good because we'd both decided we were going to pretend that it wasn't Christmas. In the morning I waited outside with her until she left for her course, then I went back inside. I won't lie, I felt lonely and miserable. I went back to sleep until I decided that it wasn't going to make me feel any better. I went out to check out the beach and relaxed in a hammock for a bit. After wishing the folks back home a Merry Christmas, I wandered in to Fisherman's Village for food then called it a night early. Bo Phut, the beach where I'm situated, doesn't exactly seem thriving with backpackers. It's lined with hotels and bars that are mostly occupied by holidaying families and couples. Making friends here is more difficult than what I've been used to so far, and as a lone traveller I feel out of place. Nevermind, in a few days it's the Full Moon Party on Ko Pha Ngnan - and that's the whole reason for me being here anyway. We'll see how things pan out until then.

The whole Australian east coast in one big long post

Thus far, as you are no doubt aware reader, my trip has been a little easy. Each country I have visited has been English-speaking, Western in culture, and a former colony of the British Empire. From tonight things get a bit more challenging as I finally make my way to Asia. So before that happens, let me tell you about my trip along the East Coast of Australia.

After a short ride on the Oz Experience bus from Rainbow Beach, I was dropped off at Hervey Bay, where I was to depart for my trip to Fraser Island. Fraser Island is one of the two major activities that most East Coast travellers take part in. You will never ever ever find a backpacker on this route who doesn't intend to go there, or who hasn't already. It is the world's largest sand island and a national park, with very little man-made development. Generally you'll spend a night or two there, and there are two ways of seeing it: a guided tour, done by professionals; or 'self-drive', where you're put with a group and you all rent a 4x4 and dart it around yourselves. I chose the latter because I thought it sounded fun.

Luckily for me, I was put with a group of very, very nice people. But I have to be honest, most people in the group were pre-acquainted university friends on a short holiday, and socially I didn't quite feel on an equal pegging. Out of 17 of us (taking up two 4x4s), only three us were outside of the social group, and I was the only one travelling alone. We all mingled fine, and I certainly felt very welcome, but as a lone backpacker, the situation wasn't ideal.

With that rant out of the way, I can now tell you what I enjoyed about Fraser Island: a couple of the lakes; driving on the beach for a bit.

So, after Fraser I returned to Hervery Bay to spend another night before getting back on the bus. Here I'd become friends with a German girl called Alice who shared an apartment with me, and in order to save money we bought some food and made dinner together, which was lovely, despite the hostel's rubbish facilities. The next day we travelled to a town called 1770, so called in order to attract tourists who might be interested that Captain Cook discovered the area in that year. Not that they'd be attracting them to much, apart from maybe the excellent hostel we stayed at called Cool Bananas. Myself, Alice and Andrea, a Hungarian via London, swam in the sea for a bit, one of the last areas going north that is safe from stingers and with any amount of surf. In the evening it rained and Alice made me watch the Big Lebowski. Not at gun-point or anything, she was very nice about it. Anyway, it's a very funny film and my life feels richer for it.

From 1770 to Kroombit, a cattle ranch in the outback. On arrival we were given the option of going for a horse ride or a quad bike ride. I'd ridden a horse before, so I opted for the quad bikes, as did Alice and Andrea. The driver of the OzExperience bus rode with us on a regular two-wheeled bike, and in an hilarious action, used one of those wheels to spray me with mud as we drove through puddles caused by the rain the night before (the first they'd had there since April). Once the ride was over we observed the horse riders returning from their experience. They looked rubbish as they plodded along, and we looked brilliant because we were dirty and had clearly had more fun. They weren't even allowed to break in to a trot or a canter. Ha!

After this we were all led up to the ranch proper, where we were encouraged to take part in herding up some goats. After some practice with a lasoo, we were split in to teams and given the task of capturing a specific goat, lying it on its side and 'branding' it (placing a not-hot iron rod on its rear). Our team won thanks to a speedy lasoo artist, although apparently I hurt the goat when I picked it up and laid it down, and later they had to take it out to be shot. This is a lie, but it did have a bit of a limp. We all drunk in the evening.

A long drive to Airlie Beach the next day, stopping off half way through for the exciting and very Australian practice of playing lawn bowls. I was rubbish at that. The climate was becoming markedly hotter. The air conditioning on the bus was having trouble doing its job sufficiently. It was about 39c outside. Fortunately, when we arrived in Airlie, OzExperience had arranged a table for us with some free beer and some free nibbles, and this helped relieve some of the stress of the day. Especially after the lawn bowls, I couldn't believe how bad I was at that. It was also in this evening that I met a new group of brilliant people. More about them later.

Most people stop at Airlie Beach so they can hop on a boat and go sailing around the Whitsunday Islands for a couple of days, and everyone knows how good it is to conform,especially me. The Whistsundays, so called because Captain Cook discovered them on Whit Sunday. Apart from he didn't take in to consideration the time zones, and it was actually Whit Monday. For the islands, again, there are choices. You can have a boat that specialises in partying, or one that's just for chilling out, but I chose one that specialised in getting in the water and doing activities, in particular scuba diving and snorkelling along the Great Barrier Reef. This proved to be something of a crap idea, as it turns out I hate scuba diving. Out of the all the things I've done on this journey that I've never tried before - the rafting, the sky diving, the surfing - scuba diving is the only one that I truly did not enjoy and felt very uncomfortable with. I'm not sure quite what it was. Perhaps that it felt so claustrophobic, or that I lacked control, being not-so-strong a swimmer. I didn't complete the full lesson, and I felt guilty that I'd let myself down. I've tried so hard on this journey to try new things, or push myself in to things that scare me, and I bailed so easily on this one. I decided that the time just wasn't right and I'd give it another go in the future.

Still, the trip had much more to offer. The snorkelling I did enjoy, and I did see the Great Barrier Reef, and it was beautiful. We also stopped off at Whitehaven Beach for a few hours, possibly the world's second best beach after Camber Sands. The sand is very white, very, very fine and gets in to everything, like cameras and ears. It's a gorgeous place indeed. Back on the boat, it was fantastic just to chill out and soak up the sun on deck. I made some good friends, and the chilled out atmosphere on board the vessel suited me to a tee. Again, on return to Airlie, a table with free beer and nibbles was booked for us, this time just because it was a nice idea.

Onward then, to Magnetic Island, apparently named after Captain Cook's compass went a bit wobbly when he sailed by it. I stayed at a Base Hostel, which are usually a bit grim, but this one was lovely - right next to the beach, with relaxed live music every evening, setting a very 'pacific' mood. The brilliant people I mentioned that I met in Airlie? Well they were in Magnetic Island, too, and we became very good friends while we were there. A total of eight of us - myself, Pete, Helen, Dee, Lou, Millie, Liv and Lindsay - all decided to hire out two small cars and to explore the island ourselves. Small is the right word. Really tiny, topless, Daihatsus that are great for zipping around with in the heat. We stopped for the odd hike to see wild koalas and rock wallabies, and while the others soaked up the sun on the beach, myself Pete and Dee took it in turns to have a drive round the island. It was a good day.

Where to next? Well stupidly, the lady who booked my trip had me down to stop in Tully, which has nothing but a river for amusement, and it was too late for me to change it. Fortunately I was able to stay with the bus for one stop further up at Mission Beach, where there is at least a nice hostel, but the rest of the crew would be going to Cairns. Most people stop at Mission to do a sky dive or white water rafting. Having done these things in New Zealand, I was more in to saving my money, so wasted a couple of days by the pool and watching DVDs before heading to Cairns myself.

Cairns is the last stop on the east coast trip, and is a large town that acts as a gateway to many other activities and further parts of Australia. Alice was up there looking for work, so I met up with her again, and I'd booked in to the same hostel as the Magnetic Island crew, so we all went for a big drunken night out. The next day I helped Alice write her resume, which isn't a good cure for a hangover. The day after I took a day trip to Cape Tribulation, so called because it was that time of the month for Captain Cook. A small group of us were driven up to the Daintree River, where we took a cruise and saw a wild crocodile! Exciting! We took a hike through the rainforest, where the guide relayed his endless array of knowledge. We fed some kangaroos and a BBQ was made for us with some delicious steak. After, we took a swim in a creek and sampled some tropical fruits, some of which you've probably never heard of. It was a day well spent. That night was to be my last night before flying back down to Sydney, and to my delight I bumped in to a couple of the people whom I started my trip with - they'd finally caught up with me. It was a great way to wrap things up.

So I flew back down to Sydney, armed only with a gin and tonic (although the flying is getting easier) and prepared to head to Thailand. The weather in Sydney was cold, the sky was grey, and there was a slight drizzle in the air. It was time to go and experience something a lot less like home.

The Opera House here is much better than the one in Tunbridge Wells

The last few nights in New Zealand where both emotional and joyous, for contrary to what I'd predicted, I was with - more or less - the same group of people for the majority of the Kiwi Experience journey, and we'd all become rather close. I went ahead of the group to Christchurch, but not before a couple of very drunken nights out in Queenstown. Particular highlights included drinking cheap wine at the harbour by the lake, where hilarious German Mo would play a mean air guitar, and Colin and Matt would mime ecstatically to the best music from Top Gun. The latter would lead us to the decision of performing a topless reenactment of the volleyball scene using a pretend ball in front of people dining outside a restaurant. Whether it was a good one or not is up to them. Us four, plus Fred, Jason and Vicky, joined the rest of the crew later for dancing and good times.

Christchurch, in the region of Canterbury, is, so they say, the most English city outside of England. Which exactly isn't what you want when you've travelled as far away from England as is possible. I found it a little dull, with few sights to see. I decided to go to the cinema one evening to pass the time, and opted to watch a film called Moon (clearly I'm obsessed). I was in the city on my own for a couple of days, until the rest of the crew from the Kiwi bus caught up with me and things got fun again. Some pre-drinking of wine in one of the dorms warmed us up before heading to the adjoining bar of the hostel, for one last night together as one big group. Matisse got so upset about it all he began scrawling desperate messages on people's arms such as 'I will never forget Matisse' and 'I can't live without Matisse in my life'. Poor guy.

In the morning I checked out and travelled to the airport with Charlotte and Kim, two girls from the Kiwi bus, who were coincidentally on the same flight. Sadly I lost them after touching down in Sydney, but they were the most excellent company and helped put my mind at ease before we boarded the plane. After collecting my luggage I stepped outside to find a shuttle to my hostel and was a tad surprised to find it was raining rather heavily. Not that I minded. As soon as I arrived at my destination, way past my bedtime at 7.30pm, I decided to hit the hay.

If I'm perfectly honest, I awoke the next morning not entirely looking forward to my time in Sydney. The thought of having to travel alone again and make new friends seemed tiring, and I had much planning to do if I wanted to see Australia's east coast. The previous night's storm having passed, I went outside, bought some sun screen, and followed a map towards the harbour. If I could go and see the Opera House, I thought, it was sure to put me in a more positive mood. As I strolled through the streets of Sydney I was impressed by the vibrancy of the city, by the people who scurried about their lives and of the mixture of modern and Victorian architecture. Much more a proper city like New York or London, so far from the relatively poor efforts of New Zealand's urban areas. The walk to the harbour from my place in Kent St took a little over 15 minutes, and I felt true, genuine excitement as the Harbour Bridge and the peaks of the Opera House's sails came in to view. Two years ago, maybe less, I never would have imagined ever making it to this part of the world, the distance too vast and too scary to contemplate. Geographically, New Zealand is further than Australia from the UK, but the Opera House served as a strong symbol of other-side-of-the-worldness. Later that evening I met up with Angela, a friend from Sydney that I met on the American tour, and we went to the Opera House again where they have a very nice bar with the beautiful backdrop of those two great landmarks.

The next day I met with some more familiar faces when I arranged to meet Ben and Rachael who have just moved to Sydney from Tunbridge Wells, and are two of my sister's closest friends. We had an excellent day starting with a tasty lunch on a rooftop pub overlooking the Opera House, then on to Darling Harbour where we soaked up the sun over a few beers. Christmas decorations are up already, and I found it a bit surreal to see them in such beautiful, hot weather. We went for dinner together, the bouncers of a bar reluctanctly letting us in despite our inappropriate attire, then we parted ways.

I stayed in Sydney for just over a week, not once feeling tired or bored of the place. I went for a couple of nights out in Kings Cross and at The Gaff with my room mates at the hostel, and met with more of the guys from the American tour as our own plans had brought us to Sydney at the same time. I met up with Ben again for a day at the Sydney Aquarium and Wildlife World, which involved a lot of 'cor look at that!' responded to with 'I know!'. All the while I was working out the most satisfying and cheapest way of seeing the east coast within my five weeks in Australia. I fixed up an itineray with a backpackers agency, and booked myself to leave the following Saturday with OzExperience, the Australian equivalent of the Kiwi Experience. After one last night with Ben and Rach, I packed my bags and headed for the bus stop in the morning.

Coincidentally and to my delight, I found that Fred, from the Kiwi bus and a comrade from the Queenstown harbour moments, was also leaving on the same trip as me! Things couldn't have been better - I was on the road again, with a friendly face and with loads of new people to become friends with too. Our first stop was Spot X, a surfer's spot so called because apparently it's a bit of a secret. We were all to have a surfing lesson in the morning, which I wasn't really interested in, but for now we were fed dinner and given the opportunity to do some night time kayaking downriver, which I took. When us kayakers returned, we joined everyone else in drinking beer and goon (cheap wine) in the warm night until we were too exhausted.

We all awoke with terrible headaches, but attended the 9am briefing for the surf lesson all the same. We were kitted up in 'spring' wetsuits (short arms and legs), provided with nice big learner's boards, and then we headed on down to the beach. Here we were given an overview of the overall technique, and then it was time to hit the water. I dawdled about a bit, then finally decided it was time to get on the board and give it a go. An instructor right next to me shouting some instructions told me the exact right time to get up on the board and stand and to my surprise I did stand, I did balance, and I did surf on a wave for a short while. I did it first time. 'This is easy!', I thought, 'I'm a bloody natural!'. And for the next two hours I proved that this wasn't the case at all as I failed repeatedly to repeat my first attempt. Still, I had a great deal of fun, and found it strangely addictive. Another one of those activities that I was reluctant to take part in at first, but after doing it completely changed my mind. Oh, and it's a good cure for a hangover.

In the afternoon we headed for Byron Bay and for a night on the town. I was to leave again for Rainbow Beach the next day, unlike everyone else who had a few nights to spare. I was sad about this - we'd become a pretty cool group of people in just a couple of days. Still, by the time I was back on the bus I shook off the negative feelings and instead felt glad about travelling alone. I've really met some excellent people, and it seems there's always more round the corner.

Still in New Zealand and it's very nice

Since my last post I did something both reckless and grand. It began by the driver of the Kiwi Experience bus drunkenly telling me that above all else, the purpose of the tour was to try and push yourself beyond your normal limits (he wasn't driving at the time, by the way). I took stock of this. It continued by two new friends, Matt and Matisse, aggressively attacking my decision making abilities by calculated and strategic use of peer pressure. And so it came that I signed my name on a piece of paper that declared that I would love nothing more than to be pushed out of an aircraft between 12,000 and 15,000 feet up in the air.

The next day, quite unexpectedly in fact (we thought it would be the day after), the three of us, plus two other friends named Sam and Marian, were collected and driven to an airport in Taupo so that we could all take part in a skydive. When we arrived we were shown a DVD of what to expect. None of us were mentally prepared due to the short notice, but I couldn't help but detect that the others seemed actually excited about it all and not the correct way of feeling, which is to be scared.

Only three people could jump at a time, so we split between boys and girls. Myself, Matt and Matisse would go together. We had the option of diving at 12,000 or 15,000 feet. Matisse chose 15,000. I hesitated, then also, dunno why, chose 15,000 too. Matt hesitated further for economic reasons, then through calculated and strategic use of peer pressure, I made him sign up for the 15,000 feet jump. The big difference between the two is the amount of time you having free falling, which is the exciting bit. And also the cost.

Anyway, blabbering a bit. So we got kitted up in overalls. We looked a bit like the Beastie Boys. Then we met the men who would be attached to us when we jumped out. For those who don't know, if you're an unprofessional skydiver you'll most likely take part in a 'tandem' dive - you're strapped to a person who has the parachute and will control your dive and your return to the ground. My person was called Mike. I was surprised when Mike led me straight towards our plane. Apparently any training I needed could be done in conversation during that short stroll.

The plane was pink and small. A tube probably about a metre and a half in diameter, with wings stuck on it. Yet it took off, and stayed in the air. After about 20 minutes we'd reached our desired altitude and the exit door slid open. I asked Mike if he ever gets nervous doing his job. 'No.' was the short response. 'Are you nervous?' he asked. I didn't lie. He gave me no sympathy. I have a strong recollection of Matt disappearing out of the door. I was then pushed to the edge, my feet dangling out of the plane. Just clouds below, so no perception of my distance from the ground. A small push. And then falling. Not a bit of falling, like when you jump off a wall or something, but a lot of falling that doesn't stop, and you've never felt anything like it. Once my mind had got round the idea of what was happening I had an impulse to scream, which I did for pretty much the entire 60 seconds that I was rushing through the sky.

Then the wind stops and silence. Partly because the parachute has opened and you're no longer moving so fast, but also because your ears have popped due to all the air pressure. Hurt a little bit actually. The rest of the journey down is calm and serene, as you float gently towards the Earth. I literally hit the ground running, then fell over, then got up again and pulled a ridiculous pose for the cameraman who'd been recording the whole thing for the DVD which shows each of our dives. I'd never felt so satisfied about doing anything in my whole life. Matt had a massive great grin on his face for the rest of the day. Matisse, Marian and Sam were also in jovial spirits. We celebrated that night by drinking and dancing until the early hours. That's a lie, I was knackered and went to bed at about 9.30. I'm pretty sure the others did the same or similar.

The next day was an incredibly boring time spent in Taupo, so I won't write about that. But the day after we went to a place called River Valley, a secluded area with beautiful surroundings, including a magnificent river called the Rangitikei River. I decided I would like to do some white water rafting down that river, seeing as the option was there. Rangitikei is a river with Grade V rapids, which are really dangerous apparently. I was with Matisse again, and also two girls from Sweden. It was very fun, and nobody fell out. At one point we were encouraged to leap off a 15 metre high rock in to the river, which only myself and Matisse were willing to do. See, I told you I wasn't a wimp. Actually I hesitated quite a lot, so I am a bit of a wimp, but at least I did it.

The next stop was Wellington, the capital, and after a couple of nights out partying, on to a ferry towards the South Island. We spent halloween doing nothing halloweeny in Nelson, on to Westport, then stopping in Mahinapua for the famous 'Poo Party' fancy dress evening. Franz Josef was next, home to a large glacier that we hiked up for the day. Pick axes and boots with spikes on and everything. Then on to Wanaka near the Alps and eventually here, to Queenstown, a wonderfully vibrant place with enthusiastic night life and a backdrop of snow capped mountains and a clear blue lake. Yesterday we even met some genuine native New Zealanders. A rare sight, seeing as almost everyone here is British or German, or sometimes Swedish. I've less than a week left in New Zealand, and I'm really going to miss it. Australia will have to work hard to match it.

All the attractive people in this picture are the New Zealanders.

Land of the Long White Cloud

Just a quick post to let you all know where I am and how things are going etc. Auckland wasn't, literally, anything to write home about, apart from maybe a trip to Wieheke Island where I found a lovely beach and lazed in the sun for a couple of hours. It's also known for its vineyards, but I didn't have the time to venture that way. Sorry.

Since leaving Auckland I've been on the Kiwi Experience bus, a touring company which I soon found has a reputation for boisterous and loutish behaviour. I was expecting to step on to the bus and be violently greeted by a group of pissed up 18 year olds. Thankfully this hasn't been the case, everyone is a good laugh and I'm having a whale of a time. It's much more casual than my American tour, and less intimate. It's a hop-on / hop-off service, so the group changes and shifts quite regularly - chances are I won't be with the same people for the whole two weeks that I'm taking part.

Last night we visited a Maori village, where they greeted us traditionally, played us songs, made us a delicious dinner and even performed the Haka. It was a great experience, but felt much less personal than the equivalent with the Navajo in Monument Valley, as many other groups from other tours had joined our own.

Today I took part in an activity in Ruakuri Cave, following a river through the caves on both foot and on a tube - a sort-of rubber tyre that you sit in as you float with the current. Ruakuri is well known for its glow worms, and we all switched our headlamps off as we bobbed downstream, revealing the bright green spots that dangled above our heads. It was an awesome sight, and I'm much more pleased that I took part in that and not the alternative, which was to abseil in to the caves and then dangle on a zip wire in to the caverns. It's definitely not because I'm a wimp.

Kia Ora, Reader

I spent my last day in the United States in a similar fashion to how I spent my first: having a conversation with a mentally suspect individual about the relationship between the US and Britain, and the overwhelming sense of hope in the younger generation to rectify all the bad things done by their parents and granparents. This individual I met as I sipped a coffee in San Fran's Union Square. She was actually far sweeter and more interesting than I've made her out to be. She moved to Frisco from Boston in 1969, and got caught up in the beat and hippy movement when she began writing poetry as a student. She went to Woodstock. She's probably seen some amazing things, in the city that influenced Counter Culture more than anywhere else. This woman from the most dynamic generation in history told me that it's my generation that is the interesting one. That's something. My eyes did glaze over a little though, when she started explaining her thoughts on the development of telepathy as an extension of the communicative power of the internet.

The days previously were spent casually strolling San Francisco without any real plans or goals. I went to China Town and Little Italy. I also went to the Golden Gate Bridge again, this time on a clear day when the fog was thick beneath it. If I'm honest, I never thought I'd ever get so far away from home that I would reach this landmark, and I felt it only right to walk across the whole thing and back. I caught the wrong bus back to town, and thanks to an upset stomach caused by some dodgy Chinese food, I realised this when I decided to get off and use a convenience. I was at this point located somewhere that wasn't on the map provided by the hostel. I was lost but, sadly, in terms of storytelling anyway, not in a very dramatic way. Some help from a local put me back on the right path.

In the evening I popped in to a nice looking bar called Cafe Royale, and instantly felt I was crashing a party. After a few moments I realised everyone was Russian, and the man on stage playing guitar was singing in  Russian, and that his chords had a very Russian feel to them. If there is such a feeling as 'Russian'. Eventually though, I did feel comfortable there, even transported a little in fact, to Russia. I felt the same in China Town too. This struck me as something unique to San Francisco. In multicultural London, you have your little spots of other nations, but you always feel like you're in London. In Frisco's international districts you feel somewhat more emersed.

On the way back a homeless man managed to stop me, a man called Robert from Jamaica. I decided to buy him a KFC. He was lucky, as I'd become quite skilled at ignoring tramps and such. If you don't know anything about San Francisco, you should know that as well as being beautiful, it is also abundant with the homeless and the mentally ill. In my opinion it's a big problem that needs sorting out. Anyway, Robert was a good guy, and I wish him all the best in getting back to Jamaica like he said he wants to.

The next evening I went to a gig with the two remaining members of the Intrepid tour, Patrick and Alison. We saw three bands: the first I can't remember the name of and were rubbish anyway; The Melvins, who were a massive influence on Nirvana in the '80s; and Butthole Surfers, who enjoy looping clips from horror films on big screens as they play. Five years ago I probably would've been really in to it, but today it's not really my cup of tea. Still, I'm glad I went. The constant smell of weed in the venue gave it all a very San Franciscan feel.

By the time it was time to leave America I felt I'd had enough. My journey to New Zealand would require two flights, to LA then to Auckland. At the airport I drank three double Morgan's and coke to cushion myself for the first flight and then somehow found myself having dinner with a Canadian girl called Sarah while waiting for the second. I suspect she found me an irritating drunkard. I took some sleeping pills for the 13 hour trip, but they didn't work, so my time in the air was spent bored, uncomfortable and slightly hungover. I wasn't, however, scared at any point. This is good.

We took off on Saturday night and arrived Monday morning. Once arriving at the lovely Freeman's Lodge at 11am, I had some sleep, as they'd considerately prepared my bed already. Waking at 5pm, I washed with the intention of exploring Auckland, but then realised I was dizzy and had an ache in my stomach. I slept again, not emerging until 7am the next day, meaning I'd lost not only Sunday but Monday too. This is also good, because everyone knows those are the two most rubbish days in the week.

I felt better today and explored Auckland. My first impressions are that it is a fine, clean city, especially compared to San Francisco. However, it is unsettlingly like home, with indecisive weather and everything. They even include the 'u' in 'colour' and Axe deodrant is called Lynx. More high brow insights like that later.

End of 'The Road'

It's been a while since being able to blog, so excuse me if this post is so long that you can't be bothered to finish reading it. Just skip to the bottom if this is the case.

So where was I? I was in New Orleans, that's where. We spent our last day mooching around, taking it all in, soaking up the atmosphere, of which there was lots. In the evening we had a go at finding some jazz bars, but this was harder than you might imagine. What we did see was a band called Washboard Chaz, who were more swing than jazz. I thoroughly enjoyed them, as did the mental dancing girl who kept us all amused with her inebriated jigging. Some of the group took off after this, and myself, Matt (Australia) and Roger (New Zealand) found another bar. I decided to get myself a drink:

'A whisky and coke, please.'
'Sure thing honey. Would you like some Baileys in a shoe?'
'Sorry?'
'Would you like some Baileys in a shoe?'
'Erm no thank you, I'm fine.'
'I'm Old Greg'
'What?'
'Have you seen the Mighty Boosh?'
At this point I realised that the barmaid was quoting from a British comedy show called the Mighty Boosh. I'm hoping that she detected my accent, associated it with British humour, and thought she'd try and connect with me on a cultural level. I hope not that she just offers every customer a Mighty Boosh related beverage alongside their standard order.

So New Orleans was a fun time had by all, and each person on the trip fell in love with it. Not even having a couple of items pinched from our trailer the night before our departure could dampen our spirits about it. However, it was time to go and we waved goodbye to a true highlight of the tour.

Next stop was Houston, Texas, and a quick look around the NASA Space Center. A grave error was made in my choice of t-shirt that morning. Apparently Houston played quite a significant role in getting men to go to the Moon.

The Space Center was really quite disappointing, with a short tour of the control center and a look at an unlaunched rocket being the only worthwhile things in our time there. We drove off, to have a wonderful night camped out on a beach on the Gulf of Mexico. Apart from it was a crappy, horrible night. It was hot, humid, and mosquitos drank our blood like vampires. Previous to this night I'd faired pretty well with the mozzies - I'd decided that I had the sort of blood type that they just weren't interested in. The reality was that they were leading me in to a false sense of security and saving me up for later. The next morning I was going to count the bites on my face and neck, but counted 32 on my hands alone and decided it was pointless.

San Antonio next, which is a very pretty city and very significant in the history of Texas. We ate Mexican food at a restaurant by the river, and spoke to a very friendly but drunk man as we waited for a bus. He told us that he'd always wanted to go travelling, but things hadn't worked out so well for him. I felt sorry for him, and it made me feel very lucky indeed that I've been able to do this trip. Very sobering.

A long drive to Carlsbad Caverns was next, exploring the huge caves 750 feet underground, with vast stalagmites and stalactites and 'popcorn' rock formations. At sunset we waited at the entrance of the caves and watched as millions of bats flew out to feed on insects. Quite a sight.

We stopped in Roswell on the way to Santa Fe. I didn't wear my Moon t-shirt. But then every space geek knows that Martians don't come from the Moon, or Mars, or anywhere in fact, because it's all a load of old tripe. Although the utterly not-rubbish Roswell UFO Museum would have you believe otherwise for five well-spent dollars. Santa Fe is nice, beautiful in fact, with adobe architecture and interesting heritage. It was also cold due to its altitude, especially at night time when temperatures reached below freezing. It was also a little cold at the next stop, Mesa Verde, 7,000 feet up in the mountains. The surroundings definitely made up for the climate. In the evening, in an attempt to see the sunset from a vantage point, myself, Becs (England), Angela (Australia) and Claudia (Germany) 'hiked' up a hill, only to get completely bloody lost on the way back down in the darkness of night. Joined by fellow lostees Claire and Steph (Australia), we eventually didn't die and got back to camp safely.

The next day, in to the lunar landscape of the Colorado desert and on to Monument Valley. The rock formations, sandstone coloured red by iron oxide, are just incredibly beautiful and surreal. The area is part of the Navajo (or Dineh to give them their non-colonial name) Reservation, and Jamie, a Native American from the tribe, was our host for the night, driving us in an open Jeep to the most magical spots in the Valley. He showed us how in one spot you can get the perfect echo by bouncing your voice off certain monuments. He introduced us to Suzie, a 97 year old woman still dextrous enough to hand make yarns of wool. At a campsite they gave us traditional food, told us stories, played us music and encouraged us to dance with them. The way their flutes and drums echoed off the rocks gave their music an authenticity that simply would not be able to be replicated elsewhere. They woke us early in the morning to see the sunrise over the landscape.

Grand Canyon next. It's a big place. On average roughly 10 miles between the north and south rims. That's roughly the distance between Ticehurst and Tunbridge Wells, or about half the length of Manhattan. I certainly made the most of my time there. In the morning I took a 45 minute helicopter ride over and in to the Canyon. This was a new experience for me, and anyone who knows me well should be impressed I reckon, due to my fear of heights and flying. It was definitely worth it. To begin with you fly over vast woodland on the south of the Canyon. You can see the North Rim in the distance. Suddenly though, the vehicle speeds up, the land drops from beneath your feet, and all around you is one of nature's most impressive and enigmatic pieces of work. As Ron, the pilot, put it: it's quite a sensation.

After we landed myself and Matt hiked down in to the Canyon, which was easy until we had to go back up. You can't go all the way to the bottom of the Canyon and back up in one day. It's dangerous, even if you're a fit young man. We met the others on the way down, and hiked with them on the way back to the top. I have no idea why anyone would put themselves through it, but we all felt very proud of ourselves when we finally finished. I was extremely tired and lethargic for the rest of the evening. We had a barbeque over the campfire before turning in. Claudia returned, having climbed all the way to the bottom of the Canyon and back up. Each one of us tipped our hats in her direction.

Went to Las Vegas. Played some roulette, lost about $30 due to not really knowing what I was doing, rode in a limo for about two hours, got drunk, went to a club, lost more money. Fantastic night. Death Valley the day after, which is the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, 282 feet below sea level. However, the highlight of that day was a night time soak in some hot natural springs in California. The sky was so incredibly clear. You could see shooting stars, satellites, and err planes. Probably Venus too, I dunno. Anyway it was all frickin' magic.

Still reading? Yosemite (yo-sem-it-ee) National Park next. Stunning views of snowcapped mountains, enormous sequior trees and wildlife including bears and deer. A few of us rode bikes in the afternoon before our last night of camping. Myself and Claudia made dinner before most of the group took advantage of the nearby swimming pool and jacuzzi in the motel complex next door.

I've been in San Francisco since. So far I'm having a great time. It's a very cool town, with an artsy feel to it that makes me feel right at home. We visited Alcatraz and watched an impressive air show, and hung out on Haight Street. Had a couple of nights being drunk. Most of the rest of the group headed off to Los Angeles today, leaving me to explore the city on my own for a few days.

To sum up then. Highlights: New Orleans; Navajo tour in the Monument Valley; helicopter ride and hike in the Grand Canyon; Limo ride in Vegas; soaking in natural hot spings in California. This is the end, more or less, of part one.

Where y'all from? What language y'all speak to give you an accent like that?

I'll have to make this post brief and then add to it later, as I'm in an internet cafe in New Orleans that costs quite a lot of money. Hopefully when I get to San Francisco I can write in more detail.

So my last days in New York were spent with a couple of new friends. A Frenchman named Arnaud from Tolouse, and a German girl called Giuili. I partook in such activities as checking out the new Kandinsky exhibition at the Guggenheim, clubbing at Pacha with their $22 drinks and cycling around Central Park.

On Sunday morning I met up with my fellow Intrepid trekkers for our overland trip across the USA. They include a British couple from Birmingham, a bunch of Aussies and an older lady from Germany. They are all very lovely people. We arrived that same day in Philedelphia, America's first capital city and where the decleration of independence was written. The Liberty Bell is also there, which is probably really important for Americans, but for us it was just a broken bell. The whole history of the United States was shouted at us by a man with a voice not dissimilar to Dr Evil's. We stayed that night in the woods just outside the city, which wasn't scary very much.

The next two days were spent in Washington DC, which is an interesting if not particularly vibrant place. We saw the White House, the Capitol, all that stuff. From Washington we headed to the southern states and suddenly everybody sounds more funny, but strangely they seem to be able to understand me better than they do in New York. We stayed in the Appalachian mountains before moving on to Tennessee for a night in Nashville and Memphis. Both cities have rich musical heritage, and I particularly liked sampling the honky tonks round Nashville. In Memphis we stayed in a camp site behind the Heartbreak Hotel.

Yesterday we arrived in New Orleans, this time in a rather plush hostel, which makes a welcome change to camping, particularly in the heat and humidity. We all went out last night in famous Bourbon Street. I don't think I've ever been to a place that openly encourages such drunkeness and debauchery. It was bloody brilliant. The daytime, however, shows New Orleans in a far more interesting light. Such beautiful buildings, so very French, with an atmosphere of easy going attitudes and bohemia.

We stay here for another night, where we intend to check out some of the more traditional jazzy areas of the town. I have much more to say on all parts of my trip, particularly the music found in Nashville, but for now I must sign off. Cheerio!

Starting off

Right, it's taken a while to do any blogging because apparently internet cafes are quite a rare thing in New York. Not surprising I suppose, it's not like it's a huge magnet for foreign tourists or anything.

Anyway, after a typically petrifying flight from Heathrow (the valium prescribed to calm my nerves had no effect) I arrived in New York early enough to dump my stuff at the hostel and venture out in to the city. By the evening I found myself in Battery Park at the south of the island, and here I had a conversation with a man who was deluded enough to not only believe that he was the King of the Jews, but that I should join the military for the purpose of influencing Great Britain's great movers and shakers, like Prince Charles. I've made him sound completely mental, but he was nice enough really and I found the whole thing amusing for my first night. After we parted ways I found a nearby outside bar with a jazz band playing, got myself a pint and watched the sunset over Jersey City and the Atlantic.

On day two, after a short stroll through Central Park I got the subway down to Coney Island in Brooklyn, which has a beach and is apparently where the hotdog was invented. Coney Island is sort of comparable to Brighton in that it's eccentric and quirky. However, despite the heat (about 26c), summer is officially over in America, and the area was out of season. Still, I had a good look round and it was great to break away from the typical spots in Manhattan. In the evening I sat just below Manhattan Bridge on the Brooklyn side, joining some other tourists as we watched the skyline light up as night drew in.

Yesterday I went to the American Museum of Natural History, which took up a few hours, including the impressive planetarium. After I left I realised I was wearing a t-shirt with the Moon on it, and suddenly became aware that I must've looked like some massive space-loving geek. I tried to pretend not to care. Later on, I grabbed some food in Greenwich Village, which has great heritage with the beat movement of the 40s and 50s and is a student hotspot due to it's location near the University. However, I was after a flavour of something more bohemium, so I headed to the East Village, where I stumbled across a bar that sold good European beers (including Old Speckled Hen!). I got chatting to a couple of guys at the bar, and we finished the night at a place called The Box, and what was apparently Charlize Theron's private party for the launch of her new  film or something. Bill Murray was sitting in the booth next to us. I felt a little out of place - still wearing my Moon t-shirt while in the company of young professionals and with Dr. Venkman just feet away from me - but it was free to get in, it was an open bar and everyone really felt pretty welcoming. So yeah, pretty good night.

I spent most of today trying to find an internet cafe. Done it! But I'm sorry if it's a bit rushed. It's expensive. Oh and I'll post pictures later.

Hello

My trip begins on September 14th 2009, when I land in New York and where I stay for about a week. From here I travel on an Intrepid tour through America, taking in the likes of Philadelphia, Washington DC, New Orleans, Houston, The Grand Canyon, and Las Vegas. We terminate at San Francisco, where I'll stay for a while before a flight over the Pacific to Auckland, New Zealand. I then bus down to Christchurch on the south island and take a flight over to Sydney. From Australia I head to Thailand and travel south through Malaysia to Singapore and then fly over to Mumbai. After railing through India to Dheli, I catch a flight back to London in March 2010. Got it? I'll let you know how it goes.