Round the World in 140 Days

Guatemalas' borders were somewhat easier to penetrate than Nicaraguas'. It took 5 minutes and only $3 each in 'official fees' to get into our penultimate country. It was then a 5 hour bus to get to the colonial town of Antigua. Kind of like Granada in Nicaragua, it boasted many impressive structures built by the Spanish since the mid-1500's. Most of them had been destroyed in Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions (the town is surrounded by 3 volcanoes, 1 of which we climbed), but had been tastefully reconstructed. This included the Subway, McDonalds, Dominos and Burger King which were all housed in colonial buildings and unlike everywhere else in the world actually blended in with their surroundings. It took us 2 days before we even found McDonalds!

I convinced Lois that we should do the volcano hike on day one and on day two we should go to on of the biggest markets in Guatemala. The volcano hike was a great experience. Not great as in good, more like great as in a big challenge. Just as the bus picked us up the rain started, and did not stop for 10 hours.

When we arrived at 'base camp' there were loads of kids trying to rent us plastic waterproofs. Due to financial constraints we did not get one. This proved to be a epic life fail. If we did get one, we would've used it to cover the bag we had which claimed to be waterproof anyway and contained both our cameras. We hiked in torrential rain up to the halfway point. During the journey, Lois said she was worried the cameras would break and I said "That'll only happen if they're sitting in a puddle of water in your bag." When we looked, there was indeed a puddle of water in the bag. Both our cameras were screwed.

The hike from this point got harder. Physically and emotionally. The thought of not being able to take photos and potentially having lost all photos we had taken was pretty depressing. We were saturated with water, the path varied between scree slope (where we'd slide down) and dangerously sharp volcanic rock (upon which I cut my hand, and still today have a piece of Pacaya volcano splintered inside me). The rain was still coming down hard and fast. The only thing I can compare it to, in all seriousness, is the journey of Frodo and Sam to the top of Mount Doom to destroy the ring. When we got to the top we were rewarded with the sight of lava flowing out from the side of the volcano and the sound of it flowing like water through cracks in the rocks beneath our feet. It was awesome, shame we couldn't take photos.

The Market the following day was very colourful and sold some very 'ethnic' stuff. We brought an optical camera to capture the moment. We took with us only £25 in an attempt to restrict the outgoings and with that I purchased: a tshirt, half a camera, a belt, several bracelets, trousers, lunch and a hammock. I haggled hard. On our return to the hostel we checked the memory cards, they were OK, and tried our cameras. Mine, crazily, turned on. Lois' was less fortunate.

We spent the whole of the following day travelling to caves in a place called Semuc Champey in the centre of the country. The drive was a pretty bum numbing 8 hours but the following day we decided it was well worth it. We went caving with nothing but a candle to show us the way. We had to crawl, swim, climb waterfalls, descend ladders and jump into pools of water, always keeping the candle upright and dry to keep it alight. We then did some tubing down a river, visited some pools and got very rained on, but we were soaked anyways so it was all good.

We headed back to Antigua for a morning which was spent eating banana bread, buying some stuff from the local market and wondering round some church ruins.

Another shuttle bus and boat took us to the town of San Pedro on Lago de Atitlan. The lake was absolutely stunning, surrounded by three volcanoes with water clean enough to wash your clothes in. Funnily enough, we're pretty sure our laundry did get washed in the lake! We spent the best part of one day kayaking across the lake to do some sunbathing, and the best part of our other day sunbathing in San Pedro. We ate at a couple of ethnic restaurants, drank a few litre bottles of Brahva beer, saw some poo floating in the lake (upsetting as our clothes had been washed in the water) and bought yet more stuff, oh and watched the hangover which was rather amusing.

After ten quick days in Guatemala it was time to move on to Mexico. We'd been warned by a few middle aged Americans to be careful because of all the drug cartels roaming around the place. We had no problems. In fact, our time in Mexico was rather un-eventful compared to the broken cameras and stolen phones we'd had to face in Central America. We spent 2 nights in San Cristobal de la Casa. We did most of the recommended walking routes, went to the recommended markets (Lois and I both brought beautiful leather bags) and saw the recommended sights. The only problems we did face was the sound of constant gunfire or explosions or something unbelievably loud. It happened in the morning,it happened in the evening, it happened at night. And kept us awake. In fact, we got a better nights sleep on the first class overnight bus from San Cristobal to Mexico City. And that was the extent of our travels in Mexico and pretty much all of Central America. A mere 2 days in LA and I'll be homeward bound.

See you soon. X

Honduras has by far been the best country in Cental America. I think
this is because we got the perfect balance of beach, culture and
adventure and saw a the best sites the country has to offer, and,
because it was mainly seen with "non-traveller" eyes. You'll see why.

Our time in Nicaragua before Honduras was short but didn't pass
uneventfully. Crossing from Costa Rica to Nicaragua was the most
painful boarder crossing ever. We chose to do it using public
transport - mistake. The public bus dropped us off by a room that
looked like a post office, there were no signs to help us but we
discovered this was where we got our Costa Rican exit stamp. We then
walked 500m down a road, through a caged alleyway which took us to
what looked like a scrap yard full of parked trucks. We had to ask
where to go (no-one spoke English so my year 9 Spanish had to suffice)
and eventually made it to the Nicaraguan immigration which looked like
the ticket offices at Alton Towers, but with much longer, slower
moving cues. We then had to pay an 'official fee' to some guy in a
tshirt and jeans for the immigration forms, another 'official fee' to
get into the country (this may actually have been official) and then
another 'official fee' to get into a township to catch the buses to
our next destination (which incidentally didn't actually take us to
Grenada where we wanted to be, but to the turn off towards it, 15km
out of the city). Watching the tourist shuttles come and go we
decided, never again on public transport.

2 days in Grenada was enough to see the sights and spend money in the
tastefully tourist cafes and restaurants. It was a very pretty town
with every door off every street leading to a hidden inner courtyard
with hammocks surrounding a landscaped garden.

We'd planned to go to Managua the capital for only an afternoon
(enough time to watch the remarkably average Harry Potter 6) and get a
bus to Honduras the following day. The capital was described as 'never
a more tourist unfriendly city' and we were told 'don't go out at
night' and that 'tourist have been attacked and robbed in broad
daylight' in the district we had to stay. We were tucked up in bed at
9.30PM all set on getting the 5AM bus to Honduras when we got a knock
at the door from a Spanish speaking bus company rep. The border is
having trouble, we deciphered, so we wouldn't be able to leave til
between 6 and 7AM but they'll come an wake us. This was fine we thought.

The reason the timing was fairly crucial is because we were going to
be meeting up with my family who'd decided to come on holiday to
Honduras.
An hour later the same man came knocking saying that the boarder will
be closed for the day (due to some joke publicity stunt by the old
president saying he'd cross from Nicaragua to Honduras on 25th, the
day we also wanted to). We were depressed but decided to get up early
and find some flights to Honduras. Mum had found some for £250.

When we got on the Internet and were in the process of booking the
flights I realized I'd entered Lois' name backwards. So I clicked the
back button and the page expired. Fatal error. When I tried to book
the same flight it came back saying all economy seats were taken, we
could however have the business class seats for £900. We had to call
the company office in Miami, pay a $30 surcharge and then get the 2
seats that had been held for Henry Marshall and Gardner Lois.

The flight to the Bay Islands in Honduras (via El Salvador - we tried
to get them to stamp our passport but no dice) was half empty. This
was rather upsetting but when I was sitting in a swimming pool with my
family drinking rum punch I soon forgot about how I'd got there and
realised this was why. Seeing the family was great, and not strange at
all, almost as if I hadn't even been off on my own for 4 months.

I felt like I was in traveller heaven with air conditioning, good food
and no worries other than making it to the beach before the morning
happy hour was over or deciding what topping to get on my ice cream.
The 5 days spent on Roatan (the biggest of the Bay Islands) had the
structure of getting up, breakfast, pool, beach for cocktail, lunch,
beach for cocktail and/or ice cream and/or sunset then shower and
dinner. It was amazing, and the beach was perfect, better than the
Cook Islands or Thailand or anywhere I've been so far.

We travelled by sick inducing catameran to another island, Utila, and
stayed for a couple of nights and explored and then travelled (by an even
more sick inducing ferry) to the mainland of Honduras, to Pico Bonito
national park. Here we stayed in the most lux accomodation of my trip
with the most lux food ever I think. We had a few adventures in the
national park, a lush, but sweaty, hike under untouched rainforest to
a waterfall and some canyoning (mum loved it) and White-water rafting.
It was an awesome place to stay with stunningly beautiful surroundings
(infact, we didn't realize until the end of our stay that the guestbook
had been signed by SARKOZY Nicholas). For me, and I'll bet everyone
else with the surname Marshall, the best part was the food. There was
too much, even for me. On two of the mornings I actually woke up full
from the night before. Full of 4 courses incuding coffee chocolate
steak and lush cheesecake. It was incredible.

The time with the family was awesome good because I got to see them
again and didn't spend anything, but bad as leaving them meant back to
travelling which, after 4 months, has become hard work. Especially in
Central America, but I embrace the challenge. 17 more days I thought
upon leaving them (now it's only 2 weeks).

Lois and I spent our final 2 days in Honduras in the town of Copan,
very quaint and the site of Mayan ruins dating back to 600AD (if not
earlier). They were impressive for sure, not as stunning as those in
Cambodia, but cool all the same. It's just crazy to think how much
occured on the exact same spot that I was standing on. Crazy.

And onwards and upwards to Guatemala. We only have a week and a half
before we fly across Mexico back to LA, shops and then home. I do feel
a little pensive. I've done so much in the last 126 days, I shouldn't
waste these final 14...

I have come a long way since my last blog, where to begin?

I guess a logical place would be at LAX airport where I said my goodbyes to about 8 people who had all been on the same flight from Rarotonga. It was a sad occasion, more damn goodbyes. Navigating my way from the airport to my hostel in Santa Monica was a tricky experience, but with the help of an (obese) bus driver, I made it onto a bus that cost merely 75c for the 45 minute trip. Aside from Vietnam that was the cheapest airport transfer into the city that I´d had. After checking in, I spent the afternoon walking the American sidewalks and on the beach. Santa Monica is, I was told, the best part of LA and it certainly seemed pretty cool on a Sunday, there were street performers and musicians like Covent Garden but under perfect sunshine and with the backdrop of American Apparel and McDonalds (I regrettably purchased something from both of these shops).

I headed back to LAX to greet my better half, Lois, who had flown out to travel with me. I surprised her and hid and was very stealth. It was good. We hit up Santa Monica pier and walked down almost as far as Venice "muscle" Beach before getting some dinner (3 chilli dogs, a hot dog and a burger - Lois was going to have 2 things but claimed not to be hungry so I had them all) at Johnny Rockets.

The following day we made the 90 minute journey on 2 buses to Hollywood Boulevard, passing Beverly Hills. It´s strange yet kind of cool being in the city which is referred to so much in popular culture. Like staying 2 blocks away from Ocean Avenue and half a block from Santa Monica Boulevard (sung about in songs by Yellowcard and System of a Down respectively). And passing near the 405 highway (sung about by Death Cab for Cutie), and Bel Air (Fresh Prince) and walking on muscle beach (Sclub7´s, LA7) and then getting on a bus to Hollywood where so much happens (including Project Hollywood). It was cool. Hollywood it´s self isn´t the most attractive area but we had a good time taking photos of the stars and making fun of the huge Scientology centre and drinking lush $5 milkshakes and eating $6 nachos. The Hollywood sign and Kodak (Oscars) theatre were definitely things to tick off and put in the scrap book.

We spent most of the afternoon on buses, from Hollywood back to Santa Monica then back to LAX to get our budget airline night flight to Costa Rica. The whole experience was fairly poor. There was a panic as we were checking in as we were told unless we had an onward ticket we would be refused entry to the country. After 30 minutes of standing around (and telling us we'd probably need to buy a return flight for $300 which we then wouldn't use) they decided our ticket from LA back home would suffice. The next error was the fact that we ended up on row 9 which didn't recline meaning the flight from midnight til 5AM would be in a pretty much straight back position. It was awful and we estimated a total of 3 hours sleep between us.

In Costa Rica (like in other 'LEDC's') the lies and scams started as soon as we left the airport. The 'tourist information' was in fact a taxi driver who told us the bus was ten times more expensive than it actually was. We made it safely to the bus station in the centre of town and took a short taxi ride to our hostel. It wasn't until we stepped out of the taxi, and the friendly taxi driver unloaded our stuff, that I noticed the gun stashed in the pocket on the drivers side door....

San Jose is what I would descibe as 'minging'. We spent a night there planning where to go and what to do, and recovering from the intense travelling we'd both done (both from wildly different time zones) over the past few days. Costa Rica was expensive, almost the same price ($4) for some cheap grub to go as the USA, but travelling was cheap. We paid $4.50, so less than £3, for a 5 hour bus ride up into the rain forests.

Our next stop was a village called Santa Elena in the Monteverde region of Costa Rica. Here we did a Canopy Tour. A Canopy Tour is where you get taken to the top of a valley and then zip wire across the valley, over and through the rain forest canopy, back to base. It was made all the more exciting by the seriously high winds and rain (although the rain made oil from the wire drip on our clothes and faces), and especially the final long zip wire measuring 750m.

We then headed to the coast where the temperature must have nearly doubled. The journey was pretty awful, bus to taxi to boat to bus to another bus then taxi, but we eventually arrived in a town called Mal Pais. We were warned by the taxi driver that there wasn't much happening there, but the Rough Guide assured us there was a nice guesthouse/hotel there. This was not the case. The room was one of the worst I'd ever stayed in. The beach was nice, but less good in the rain that arrived late afternoon. In the evening, there really was nothing. We walked for a mile and found only one restaurant (which was right next to our hostel but we neglected it for the price) and eventually headed to that restaurant, deflated.

I decided not to tell Lois about the cockroach crawling over our bags, or the 2 foot long lizard which entered our bathroom until we were safely away the following morning, to a surf town called Playa Carmen just down the road from the previous night's disaster. We stayed for 2 nights, enjoying the beach and the food. Well, actually, I didn't enjoy the food so much as I seemed to get some kind of food poisoning bug thing which is still haunting me. As Lois and I have ate similar things I can only trace it back to a plate of rice, beans, beef, some kind of salad and vegetables, served to me by a cross dressing Costa Rican man.

We then moved to a really rather expensive tourist town called Montezuma. The sea on the Pacific coast is rather rough (seeing as the waves have a few thousand kilometers to build up) which meant that we didn't even brave it into the sea, however I did have a dunk in a waterfall pool. It was a pretty town, but pretty expensive. It was however, the first place where we met British (Welsh) people in Central America.

The final stop in Costa Rica was the 'rodeo' town of Liberia. We didn't see any rodeos but there was a procession of over 150 children on horses which was rather odd. It rained which made us a little down, however, the Burger King (this was the first multinational chain we'd seen in over a week) cheered Lois up, and me a little though I could only manage a single burger.

Overall, Costa Rica was different to how I expected. A few people had bigged it up a lot before I went, however, being there I couldn't help but be a little disappointed. It was expensive (for an LEDC) and the people were really not all that friendly. It was hard work, one journey, mentioned above, took 6 different stages of transport. The people lied a lot as well, but some didn't so who were you meant to trust? It was also hot and I got ill, and I know these things you can't control however, they will unfortunately keep my overview of the country a bit negative. But go and see for yourself...

Now however, I'm in Nicaragua, and the place we're at, Granada, is excellent. Touristy, in a nice, tasteful way. Not super cheap, but cheap enough to have a good time. And so we will continue to do so.

My time on Rarotonga, the largest of the Cook Islands has been brilliant. It has pretty much been the much needed 'holiday' from travelling that I'd hoped for. This may not make for a good read as I really didn't do much.

I'm writing this from a beach. The sun isn't shining, though it's trying to break through the cloud. The turquoise sea is lapping slowly on the sand and I'm listening to Patrick Watson (I'm not sure how this album got on my iPod but it's very good). I'm wearing only a pair of blue fake Abercrombie swim shorts, I'm not hot nor cold. It's pretty much the perfect beach, the sea goes no deeper than 2m and is enclosed by a reef preventing sharks and jellyfish and horrible things getting in. There are a lot of sea cucumbers though. The beach is a 2 minute walk from my hostel.

Describing where I am only goes so far. It is lush but this is only a small part of what's made this place so great. It's the people I've met, the things I've done with them, the jokes I've made with them and the conversations I've had with them. I arrived last Thursday from Auckland and by Saturday morning I knew the names of everyone at the hostel. Not many new people came after this which was a good thing as it meant a kindof 'crew' formed from everyone staying at Backpackers International Hostel and would squash round the table which had more people than seats. I guess it's also kindof bad as I'm sure we were pretty intimidating to the few new arrivals that did come, though everyone was so very welcoming. I'm trying my best to be a (cool) friendly traveller.

In the day time was divided between beach and table mainly. At night, we went to Avarua a couple of times on the 'bar crawl', went out to dinner a couple of times, made a couple of fires on the beach; had good fun in the evenings that's for sure. I walked accross the island one day, went to the Market twice, watched a plane take off right over my head in an activity called 'Jetblasting' because of the blast you get from the jets.

As you can see I'm struggling to fill this. The trouble is so much of what went on were stories where "you had to be there" so are pretty hard to write on this. However, I hope in this short blog (and maybe some pictures that will be on Facebook in due course) you get the idea - it was sweet.

Hen x

PS. I'm actually in Costa Rica right now, but that's another story for another time.

Queenstown is the 'thrill seekers' capital of not only New Zealand but probably the world. Is there another town (which incidentally, has a population of only twice as many people as Woburn Sands) in the world where you can ski, bungy jump, jet boat, sky dive, paraglide, canyon swing and/or white water raft? I can't think of anywhere. Of this list I did only two of them. Why? Time and money mainly, and plus most of the other things I've done before, either on this trip or back in 2002.

On the bus in I met a girl, Kirsty, who had the exact same plans as me and was staying at the same hostel. There is a phrase, 'you can't choose your family' but when you're travelling, the phrase 'you can't choose your friends' also applies. Lucky for me, in so many months I can think of maybe a couple of people (who I'm not friends with on facebook) I wasn't so keen on, all the rest have been way cool, and Kirsty and Sisi (who also had the same hostel and same plans) were no exception.

When I arrived in Queenstown I dumped my stuff and headed straight to catch up with Amy and have a Fergburger, infamous throughout New Zealand. Amy had nearly finished her Kiwi Experience bus trip and would be home in 3 days (she is now in fact). Home seems so distant, about ten thousand miles in fact. But not just that, the whole way of life; not living out a rucksack; having a selection of more than 5 tshirt, 4 pairs of socks, 3 hoodies and 1 pair of shoes and jeans to wear; not sharing a room with 7 strangers; not making friends for a few days then leaving them, never to be seen again. It's just totally different to the reality back in Woburn Sands.

The fergburger was incredible. Definitely the biggest burger I've ever eaten and pretty damn tasty too. I booked my Milford Sound trip then we had a few drinks at a couple of places, got involved in a pub quiz but lost spectacularly, discussed how we've been keeping and what we've been up to for the last 3.5 weeks and then said our goodbyes ('See you at home' this time).

was waiting for the bus at 7.05 to go to Milford Sound. The bus driver was informative, pointing out the 'Misty Mointains' from Lord of the Rings and talking none stop for 2 hours. Bus drivers think they're comedians and love to talk, and make jokes. I love to put my iPod in and not listen. Well, half listen and pay full attention when Lord of the Rings is mentioned. The ride was pretty spectacular itself, at it's least stunning most of NZ is on a par with the Lake District, but it's often much more than this. When we got there I was in awe. Milford Sound is a fjord with a huge peak bigger than any mountain in the UK. It was a pretty cool day trip that's for sure.

I got my 2nd fergburger and we all got measured up for skis and clothes for our day of skiing tomorrow. We got an early night and were raring to go on the first bus up to the Remarkables ski resort the following day. The skiing was, um, different to other places I've been. The resort was smaller, with only 3 lifts, but the runs were piste bashed and in good order. It was a little icy once you scratched below the surface, but this was only the 2nd day of the season so it can be forgiven. I was just happy to be skiing. We went to some hot pools in the evening and stargazed. I saw 2 shooting stars so made 2 wishes.

My third day in Queenstown has two clear things etched in my memory. The first is: the Nevis bungy jump. Kirsty and I were in one of the first groups of the morning. It was very cold and the cloud was just above us and it was very lightly snowing. This would be the 2nd time I'd be throwing myself out of this particular cable car suspended 134m above a valley. With the harness on I was 68.6kg, 15kg more than last time, and dangerously close to what Dad weighed after his 5 and a half hour triathalon (hopefully Dad's weight will increase - well done Chris Marshall btw. Oh and if we're congratulating people for physical achievements, I guess there should be a shout out to my Aunty and Uncle, Stuart and Cherry who cycled from Lands End to John O'Groats on a tandem).

Bungying is a great deal more scary than a skydiving. Actually having to physically throw yourself off a ledge down to near certain death were it not for the elastic chord round your feet which you cannot see or feel. It's scary for the few minutes before you do it and the few seconds before the elastic starts to stretch and hey! You're alive! And then you bounce and go back up and down. It was sweet doing it again, now I remember it all very clearly because 7 years had left my memory of last time pretty sketchy.

The second memorable event in Queenstown was the ice cream I ate at 2.44PM on 22nd June 2009. My oh my. It was heaven. Eating it I felt like I was doing cocaine or heroin for the first time (not that I know what this is like). I will forever be searching for the high I got from that delightful ice cream. It was 1 scoop of banoffee flavour, and 1 of chocolate. I'm happy I ate it, but sad no other ice cream will ever live up to that one from the waterfront in Queenstown.

Had a fair few drinks in the evening to celebrate surviving Queenstown. These drinks meant I had a horrific journey to Dunedin (the 'Edinburgh of the South') the following day, departing at 8AM. It was a nice place but there wasn't much to do except run up the worlds steepest street. It was ridiculously steep, I'll never complain about walking up Church Road again. The next day we were at Lake Tekapo via some perfectly round rocks on the beach (I've definitely been ticking off places on the Magic Bus!). In Lake Tekapo again, nothing to do, but me and a couple of lads went for a run and I can honestly say it was the most beautiful run I've ever been on. The sun was setting leaving a crimson sky with snow capped mountains and a perfect blue lake.

Before I knew it my 2 and a half week bus tour was up. Already?! The South Island had passed so quickly, but I was there for longer than I was in the whole of Australia. Back to Christchurch/Bedford. I bumped into Kirsty again (who gave me my bungy DVD that I'd accidentally left in a computer in Queenstown), spent a few hours walking round the city (again, I do quite like the place), spent £1 on two small chocolates and spent a few hours in the museum. I went for a few beers with some lads I'd met initially in Wanaka in the evening but we seemed to end up in a bar that was a total cattle market and depressed me more than the Litter Tray so I made my excuses and walked back (via a few prostitutes - interestingly, Japan has been the only country where I haven't seen prostitutes).

Flew to Auckland the following day and met up with my baking buddies from Kaikoura. This time it was triple chocolate cookies with cookies and cream ice cream. The hit from the ice cream wasn't anything compared to the hit I got in Queenstown, but the dessert as a whole was pretty damn good. It was on this evening that the rain started. The rain and cloud have continued up to today.

I came to Paihia yesterday, in the Bay of Islands in the far north of the north island. It's pretty, or would be if the sun was shining. I guess I maybe feel a bit 'low' compared to the highs I've been having recently. I put this down to four, maybe five, temporary things, most of which will not matter in a while.
1) I've decided to cut back on the spending as I've 'done everything on my list for NZ' and when the money runs out in NZ so does the fun.
2) The weather is 10 degrees cooler than England and raining. However this time next week I'll be in the Cook Islands. The following Monday I'll be in Costa Rica.
3) I've said goodbye to a lot of cool people since leaving Queenstown. It's never easy saying goodbye.
4) Ice cream withdrawal symptoms.
(5) Micheal Jackson, music legend and inspiration to us all, has passed away.)

I'll get over it though, I'll survive.
Hope everyone is enjoying the sun in the Northern Hemisphere!

I realize of late my blogs have become a reflection of my physical form - a bit fat. Ok well I'm not fat, just a few kilos heavier than I was went I left, and a bit bigger than I'd like to be. The blogs, they're a bit bigger than they need to be too.

I was in Kaikoura one week ago. It's a stunning place, even in winter, it has turquoise blue sea overlooked by snow topped mountains. And there is a lot of wildlife. I'd signed up to do a dolphin swim on the Magic bus (which is one of a handful of bus companies that ferry tourists between the top spots in NZ). What the driver failed to tell us was that the dolphin swim hadn't happened for a week because of the weather and lack of dolphins. This led to me and a few other Magic bus riders hanging around in Kaikoura for a couple of days waiting for dolphins to show. They didn't.

I hadn't spent much in NZ so far so I decided to blow $120 (about £48) on flying a plane for 20 minutes. It was so awesome I did the take off and some stunts in the air and we landed it together. He said I was really good and usually he doesn't let us land it all the way. I didn't want to admit that I'd had some flying training on Grand Theft Auto - San Andreas. It pretty much exactly like this in real life.

In Kaikoura there isn't that much to do, it's a really nice looking place, but other than going to the seal colony and doing this half day walk (both of which I did) there wasn't enough for 3 days. Lucky then that I met some people who liked/wanted to bake. I'd been craving to make something for ages so we made scones and chocolate brownie. We burnt them both though because the oven was crap.

I had to say goodbye to my fellow bakers as they were getting the ferry to the North Island but I was staying on the bus headed for Nelson. It's a pretty nice town, but all there really is to do is visit the 'Centre of New Zealand'. I met a couple called Scott and Maz and we walked to the middle of middle earth. It started to rain though, and we got really wet.

The Magic Bus is a neat way to get around as the drivers are also like tour guides giving to snippits of information, and plus the drivers will book accommodations and activities for you. It was like I was back in NZ with mum and dad. It did feel like a bit of a step backwards in travelling compared to having to be self sufficient (and getting pretty good at it) for the last 10 weeks.
I realized also that this week would be the crossing over between the 'first half' of my trip to the 'second half' or 'final half' or 'last half'. It's all home from here. This thought upsets me.

From Nelson, we drove round the back of Abel Tasmin National Park and made a few stops including at the impressive pancake rocks at Punakaiki. We arrived in Greymouth just in time for the free bakery left overs at our hostel. In the evening we did a brewery tour of Monteiths brewery. It is quite a lengthy process to get just one pint. After the tour we were able to pour unlimited free drinks for 30 minutes. I became quite the expert and did enjoy drinking the 'Radler' style beer which tasted like Corona and Lime with extra lime. We were then driven to a nearby pub where we enjoyed an all you can eat buffet and a couple more complimentary drinks.

Getting out of bed was quite a challenge the following morning. The journey was stunning down to Franz Josef glacier. Stopped off to pan some gold en route and was there for midday. I'd signed up to do the full day glacier hike the following day and the skydive the day after. I'm spending a lot of money. But in New Zealand money is the route to thrills and fun so I can't not.

I visited the hot pools in the afternoon/evening and made the most of the free Internet at the hostel in my other time. It was another early start for the glacier walk - up before 7 and then walking up to the glacier to reach the mouth by 9AM. As it's tucked in a valley the sun didn't actually rise onto it until about midday which meant that, even in my 4 layers and hat and gloves, it was pretty cold. It was so cool though climbing through tunnels and through crevices and just being on this continually moving and changing lump of ice that Mr. Jones had made us use as a case study in Geography 18 months ago.

The following day I spent a lot of money again. But it was well worth it again. I skydived. In the morning, I was milling around and pacing, trying to fill the time before pickup at midday. I wondered down to the shop and was greeted by the familiar faces of three girls who had been in my year at Cedars and Fulbrook. I arranged to meet them later.

When Michelle (who I'd been hanging out with on the Magic bus since Christchurch) and I got to the skydive centre (which was little more than a few caravans, a big shed and a tiny plane, the same size as the one I'd flown a few days earlier) the guy was pissed off because we were late and he needed to fly his plane to the other side of the island by the end of the day. So everything was pretty rushed, getting the harness on and our 'training'. This didn't instill a lot of confidence, but least I had insurance. When we got in the air, I got strapped to my German instructor and could just enjoy the views of Mt. Cook and Fox Glacier. It was absolutely stunning, really awesome. These views were worth the money alone. I wasn't scared or nervous until we leveled off at 12000ft. And the door opened. Michelle fell out and the it was my turn. I had to shimmy to the edge, hang my feet out, smile for the camera, cross my arms and we fell. We tumbled and I could see the plane falling away.

I remember the falling bit all pretty clearly. We turned a few times, looking out over the sea and the mountains. It was such an awesome place to skydive. I know I spent like £130 on 30 minutes of action, but I have always wanted to skydive and in the UK it would be double this price and you'd be falling over the fields of Bedfordshire, not the tallest peak of the Australasia continent, or a glacier. They say (the mysterious "they") that it is the 2nd best skydive in the world second only to Mt. Everest.

When he pulled the chute, I felt I was just hanging like a rag doll attached to the front of him. I was allowed to remove my camera and take pictures which was pretty cool. When I landed I concluded that it was one of the best things I've ever done. It's such an unnatural feeling that it's really hard to describe it clearly, but it is awesome and if you get the chance to do one, do it. In the evening, I reminisced with the old Cedarians and Fulbrookians about teachers and school and England and what had led us to getting to this point in our lives. And what had led us to bumping into each other in a tiny village near a glacier in New Zealand. Small world...

The next stop on the magic tour was Wanaka. It was good for a night, really nice lake, a few good walk, a cool cinema (like the one at the Arts Factory in Byron Bay or in Sihanoukville, Cambodia - it had sofa's and all, and a half time break in the film for food/drink/spending money/toilet), where we saw "Last Chance Harvey" which I felt, at parts, I could relate to a little. Wanaka also contains the Puzzle Museum which I did visit on my last tour of NZ, and decided to go to again. Interestingly, it hasn't changed at all in 7 years. Same exhibitions, same maze (I completed it really fast this time), same toilets, even the same puzzles for sale in the gift shop. The puzzle museum is about 3km out of town, and I didn't fancy this walk on a cold winter morning so to get to the museum, I walked along the road, and stuck out my thumb. About 7 cars past me, but the 8th guy pulled over, cleared his front seat and told me to hop in. I was a hitch-hiker! He drove me the whole 2km to the museum and I thanked him and we both went on our way. It's that easy. I might try that again some time.

My next stop, and where I am now is Queenstown. I've been here before, but it bears little resemblance to the Queenstown of 2002. There are so many travellers here, all seeking their thrill. Be that skiing, boarding, bungying, jet boating, flying, swinging, rafting, skydiving, parascending. There is so much to do, or rather spend money on, it's not even funny. I've been busy, spending money, of course.

I've bungeed and skied, but I'll fill you in on these next time round. It's just above freezing here - it did snow a little this morning at the bungy site. I hope it's warmer with you, wherever that may be.

So Byron Bay was a cool place. When I was there I formed my own little 'crew' consisting of Marc, a Swiss guy straight out his military service, and Ewan who'd spent the last couple of months hitch hiking round New Zealand. I was pretty jealous that he did this as I like the idea in the back of my mind but at the end of the day just booked my way onto one of the bus tours.

The first two (of three) days in Byron weren't great. On day one, Marc and I just strolled around the town. I booked up a surf lesson for the following day and Marc and I discovered 'goon' which is cheap, Australian boxed wine. We got 4.4 litres for $10, or £5, so £2.50 each. This lasted all three days in Byron as Marc wasn't really a big drinker. On the first night, Marc and I visited nearly every bar or club in town and were greeted with empty seats and empty dance floors. The following day I had my surf lesson. There was a group of 4 newcomers, with one instructor who was all "Far out!" and "Right On!" and "Hang Ten". His hair was like rats tails. The surfing though, was pretty cool; I managed to ride a few waves and got standing on a fair few occasions. I'd always choose the biggest waves. I wish I could do it again like regularly, maybe I'll give it a try in Cornwall if I'm ever in that part of the world.

That night Marc, Ewan and myself went to the cinema at the hostel (which was sweet. It was called the 'Arts Factory' and had a reputation for drawing in travellers who plan to stay for a couple of days but end up there for a few months. They have tents and tepees and buses and stuff to stay in, and a pool and loads of stuff going down. Anyway, we went) to see Fast and Furious. It wasn't bad, but hopefully that'll be it for those films. We then were planning on going into Byron, but were told the party was 'happenin' down at the campsite at the Arts Factory. We checked it out and I felt like we had walked back to the 70's. I'd say they were 'hippies' but Marc thinks that word died on New Years Eve 1979. Cool clothes, goon, guitars, bongs, vodka, an accordion, cigarettes, orange juice, joints. I sat down immediately. I embraced the culture, drinking my goon conversing with all the free thinking, open minded, friendly, drug smoking workers of the Arts Factory. They were pretty much all just passing through, but ended up working at the Arts Factory, some for as long as three years. As I drunk more goon, I enjoyed it more and more. I was offered a joint, I held my hand up and declined though. I know I failed my 'never refuse an invitation' rule, but I was too drunk to remind myself. It was a good night, it was almost like one of those cultural evenings where you get to hang around with local aboriginal people, or local Maoris, I was just chilling with the local hippies.

The following day Marc and I sunbathed in the morning and went to the most easterly point of mainland Oz. Least the weather was good. In the evening, the three of us went to see 'The Boat that Rocked' which was very good, the me and Ewan kept drinking and went to some club in town (where I saw the girls from Milton Keynes who I'd met in Cambodia!) but nothing could beat last night so I went back to bed at 3.

I arrived in Brisbane to room 410 in Bunk hostel the following day, where John and George from Koh Pha Ngan were staying. It was good to see them again. We strolled around Brisbane in the afternoon, it's a pretty nice city. In the evening, 5 more Bathonians (including Greg from Nha Trang) arrived, and with them came the 'lads holiday' vibe. We had a few drinks in the evening, and wasted the following day (our big achievement was cooking sausage and mash). That night we bought 13.2 litres of goon between the eight of us. We weren't allowed to drink in the hostel or in public, so we ended up drinking up a tree. It may sound strange and it was strange. But kind of funny. But kind of shameful that I'd become a bit of a 'lad'. The night that followed was a blur. I may have just gone to bed (as I seem to be doing more and more).

The following morning I was up early and the sun was shining so John and I walked across Brisbane to the inner city beach on the bank of the river. It was really nice, really clean and all modern and stuff and had a free little water park for kids. On the way we stopped off at the school of hairdressing where I got a wash, cut and dry for a fiver. And the guy who did it was so nervous and so precise I think it's one of the best cuts I've had of late.

That evening we made it on the guest list for a club called 'The Family' which was said to be one of the best in Australia. It was. I think in terms of layout it was the best club I've ever been in, the top floor had an ice bar that you could just come and go in. It was so cool, and we got in for free! (Rather than $20). We'd only had 9 litres of goon between the 8 of us, and as drinks were unbelievably expensive, we returned to the bar at the hostel for a jug of beer. We then had to que again for the club and for some reason or another, they deemed me (me!) of everyone 'too intoxicated' to go back in. The bouncer, from Glasgow, told me to go have some food and wait and hour. It was rubbish, I just ended up trying to talk to the bouncer (about utter crap) to prove I wasn't very drunk and try to flatter him. I complimented him on his tattoos. I think, ironically, this may have worked against me, and after about 45 minutes I tried to get in again. 'Still too intoxicated.' he said. 'Seriously, go for a walk around the block.' This I tried, but the block seemed pretty big so I tried to do a lap of the club. I got to the other side of the building and saw a set of stairs leading to some fire escape doors. I managed to get my nails in the division, and pull the doors open. I then just waltzed into the club. I felt so stealth, I was like Jason Bourne.

Managed to find the lads and dance the night away. I wish when we left I could've photographed the bouncers face when he saw me emerge from the front door. Henry - 1, bouncer - 0.

I felt like death the next morning, it was the 2nd time in my trip that I'd drunk 6 nights in a row. No more. In Australia at least. I went to the beach in the morning and in the afternoon flew to Melbourne. It was cold and raining in Melbourne. It is however, a very nice place and the family I stayed with were very nice people. Basically, mum has a friend in Melbourne who mum told me to visit, however, she is currently in England visiting mum! Strange. Anyhow, I was set to stay with the Parker family (Wendy, Neil and Chris (16)) who had a really nice house in the beachy suburbs of Melbourne. These days were pretty action packed.

When I arrived I looked at myself in the mirror, I did not look well. I had an early one, and got up an went to the gym in the morning. Exercise was good, really good. I should do more to try to prevent my weight exceeding 68kg. That's a bit too heavy for my liking. Chris and I then hit up Melbourne, did a little shopping, a little sight seeing. It's a really nice city. In fact, all Australian cities are really nice. In the evening Wendy and Neil gave me a tour of even more of the city including the developed 'docklands' area and then we went and had this sweet Chinese meal in Chinatown. Where the English would go for a curry, Australians go for a Chinese.

A long Coastal bike ride the following morning was another good bit of exercise. Shame the final place we stopped at had 4 cake shops in a row. I went for the caramel slice again. It was divine. In the afternoon Chris and I were booked on the Official Neighbours tour. I was on Ramsey Street! It was weird, it's just your standard Cul de Sac in the suburbs of Melbourne. Oh and it was raining, it's not always sunny and warm in the real Ramsey Street. Our tour guide said that if it get really cold for outdoor shots, the actors have to chew on ice. Gutted. We also met Stingray, who I recall dying many years ago on the street. I had a picture with him on the spot where he died. Since leaving the show it seems the career of the guy who played him has also died. He's done a fair bit of theatre in England. When I say theatre, I mean panto.

My time in Australia had come to an end. It had flown by. I'll have to go back, when it's a bit sunnier and warmer. I think I didn't have enough time to cover enough ground to assess the country properly. It's a damn huge place, so to cover all the ground you need huge amounts of time, and I just hadn't allowed enough. There's not enough time in any race though, right?

After 12 hours of bus, 3 hours of waiting, 3 hours of flying, a 1 hour swine flu quarantine (someone on the flight had symptoms), a forgotten umbrella and another hour bus, I arrived in Christchurch, New Zealand where it was very cold. Maybe because I've been there before or maybe because it reminds me of home (bit like Bedford) it felt like a sanctuary. I walked a similar route to one I'd taken with my family 7 years and 2 months ago. Tried to locate the cafe near to where I'd taken a photo next to my mum taking the piss out of how she wore her shorts. I did locate the sweet shop where we bought our 'easter eggs' back in 2002. It was all rather comforting.

The following morning I was up at 7.20 and ready to start my Magic Bus Pass. It wasn't all that magic, but it did bring me to Kaikoura, where I am now. I don't think I've been here before.

Hope all is well with you. X

Another 13 hour coach journey begins so as does another blog. This trip takes me from Sydney up north and a little bit East to the most easterly point on mainland Australia called Byron Bay. It's meant to be a cool little surfer town so I reckon I'll fit right in. At least hopefully I will escape this rain and 16 degree temperature, don't tell me England is warmer and not raining no doubt? My average temperature for the last 2 months has been like 30, so I don't mind. Not quite two months actually, I think my first day in Sydney marked one third of my 20 week trip complete. Very upsetting.

It was strange, in a good way, to see a friend. Probably better even than meeting Zac Efron. The 25th May was coincidental Amy's birthday and I'd got her some 'lucky' chopsticks from Japan (and a mask to protect from swine flu). We met in front of Sydney Aquairium. It still seems so funny that when I arrived I was meeting someone from home not at the Market Cross or in front of the Litter Tray or at Leighton Station but at Sydney Aquarium. In Australia. Australia!

The aquarium had some pretty good fish, and a crocodile, and ducks, and eels and dugongs and sharks. I was keeping my eyes out for anything (eg. Morey eels) that I'd seen in the ocean while scuba diving.

Sydney is a fairly compact city, you can walk around the majority of the central area. I was staying in an area called Kings Cross (the red light district apparently, nothing like the one in London!) and walked to Darling Harbour where the aquarium was. We then walked to Circular Quay from where all the ferries depart, and where the Opera House is. It's a lot bigger than I thought. I really like that feeling of being and seeing the place that you've only seen on TV or in pictures. The Opera House and the Habour Bridge. Angkor Wat. Khao San Road. Tokyo. Zac Efron. That initial few seconds when I am speechless.

From Circular Quay we went to The Rocks which is really cool, quaint old part of town. We went to a restaurant called Pancakes on the Rocks. It was very good. From here we cut back to the CBD and strolled through Hyde Park (I know some of the names sound familiar) back to my hostel. It had been a good tour round Sydney. I'd seen an awful lot of the city. Maybe even too much for one day, but it had been excellent.

The following day I got the ferry from Circular Quay to meet Amy in Manly, a suburb on the coast in the North East of the city. It was sunny! Necessary, definitely, as we were going to Manly beach. Manly - apparently a tourist trap but I thought it was lush - reminded me a bit of Great Yarmouth with the key difference that Manly was actually nice. We got ice creams and walked from Manly beach to Shelly beach, then back to Manly beach via McDonalds to get frozen coke (it was worth the detour) and back to the beach via 'the best fish and chips in Manly'. We ate them in the sun looking out on the Pacific Ocean.

We headed back to where Amy was living via a few shops in Manly and Waringah Mall (my best buy was a packet of Tim tams). For dinner we had a genuine Australian BBQ which was actually awesome (rivalling my one South African braai experience). We ended up being forced to sing the National Anthem. In a room full of Australians (some of whom helped us with the words to our national anthem) we felt pretty embarrassed at our lack of patriotism.

Said goodbye, or rather 'See you in New Zealand' to Amy and got the bus back to town. On the way home I realised that's what you miss travelling. A home cooked dinner and the ability to chill in the living room, stuffed, but still forcing down chocolates after dinner (I'm sure this isn't just a Marshall trait). Homely comforts, or domestication or something.

In the four days that followed this I think I became a bit of a bad traveller. I went off on my own for the following two days in Sydney. The weather wasn't great so I didn't tick off anything in the guide book really. I went up the sky tower and up one of the bridge pylons. I sat reading in front of the Opera House (don't get to do that everyday), I went back to explore The Rocks more, I went to see the World Press Photography Exhibition, strolled down Oxford Street. All on my own. Well actually no, I don't think I was a bad traveller, I think I was a good traveller in a bad hostel on reflexion. I just spent a lot of time alone, and I did lie to a couple of people to get out of doing things and going places with them. I think what made me think I was a bad traveller was a couple of nights ago when I joined some people from my hostel for some pre-drinks at a bar before moving onto a club. When we were in the que for the club the woman at the door told me 'Mate you won't get in with thongs on'. 'Thongs' are 'flip-flops' by the way. Crazy, innit. Anyway, I said I'd go change them then come back. So I started walking back and past a cake shop. In the window they had some beautiful chocolate caramel shortcake with a huge caramel layer. I stopped. No. 'You're going to a club.' I told myself. I was a bit tipsy though so...I bought the cake. Then got back to the hostel, ate the cake, decided that was enough calories for the night and so went to bed.

The following day I made my way to the Blue Mountains. They really were blue in the distance. It was so unbelievably cold, about 7degrees, I had to wear every hoody I had to keep warm. After arriving and checking in I went out on a walk. It was a couple of hours, down a really steep descent to the bottom, across a little way then back up. Pretty simple. I did go past the Three Sisters (wiki them) which are features sticking out from a cliff formed by erosion. Travelling and learning. It was the same idea for the walk I did the following day although this time I walked along 'Darwins Trail' where he had looked out almost 200 years before over some waterfalls. It was very...peaceful. A little lonely maybe, but gave me some time to think about stuff at home, the future, the band, the next six years. I actually quite enjoyed it. I unfortunately did not make it to see the Wollomi Pine trees that were only discovered in 1994. I hope mum isn't too disappointed.

Back at the hostel I spoke to the owner who informed me that 'Asylum Sydney' where I had stayed had almost been shutdown by police. I wasn't surprised, and this only reconfirmed my belief that I was a good traveller in a bad hostel. I'm nearly at Byron Bay so I will now have the chance to be a 'good traveller' again. I'll let you know how I get on...