TravelStream™ news feed for member teamkhan on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/teamkhan en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 13 Oct 2008 02:55:14 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1208237100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1208237100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1208237100/tpod.html Mon, 13 Oct 2008 02:55:14 -0400 Round the world as slowly as possible...

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Melbourne, Australia

With our new set of wheels - 'The Hilton', a true work of art we were ready for adventure. Our white van (great camouflage for rockin up and freedom camping rather than a motor covered in psychedelic flowers) was up and running, housing a spice rack to rival Mrs Beatons and so the only thing still confusing us, was which direction to head in. We had 3 months in Oz which is an absolute eternity in backpacker world, but with Oz bigger then the size of Europe - its a big heap of dirt to navigate. Pip - the backpacker oracle who had trudged the globe in his grungy flip flops some decades ago, told us in no uncertain terms to stop faffing about and to get our derrieres into the great Australian outback. So having picked up the wheels in Port Macquarie and decking it out courtesy of Wendy and gang, we headed south towards Melbourne hitting the winter breeze as we trundled along the coast. Of course all the other backpackers were heading the opposite way and up the east coast to warmer climes, so we spent a lonely few days freedom camping by any beach and found that the only way to bear the cold showers on the beach blocks, was by screeching 'Morning has Broken' in an attempt to belay the shock of the ice cold water hitting our warm bodies and to stop us from hyperventilating. Stan preferred croaking out an old Take That tune (who'd have known he was a closet TT fan!!). Whoever said that karaoke at 7am on a cold winters morn is unacceptable has obviously never lived...

We hit Melbourne and rocked up to David's house, a friend of a friend of a friend, whom we'd never met, but who had still left us a spare key for his house and told us to stay as long as we liked. That's how laid back the Aussie's are. Well after doing all our laundry and then doing it again just to nuke it clean, we settled into Melbourne for a week on Davids guest heated water bed. The first two nights Stan felt sea sick and I kept shouting "MAN OVERBOARD" every time I jumped on the bed and Stan was promptly flung across the room. Still it was like sleeping on a giant hot water bottle and was warmer than the van, and the novelty of it was too great an opportunity to pass up on.

Situated in West Brunswick, home to the Greeks, the Lebanese, the Syrians and anyone else for that matter and a real melting pot of a place, we decided we would take the time to get to know the area better on a marathon scoffathon. We gorged ourselves on kebabs, Baklava, biscuits, and Greek pastries and then Stan found himself in halal sausage heaven - a butchers selling every kind of middle eastern sausage variety known to man. Stan felt as though he'd hit the jackpot at Vegas - he was jubilated. It was as if all his Eids had come at once - so we bought enough sausage and mash to feed 5 thousand and thats all we ate for 3 days... Homer Simpson would've been proud! After 2 days though we were defeated - mash, gravy, even veg like broccoli couldn't help get those damn sausages down the cake hole - we were broken and destroyed and would detest even the thought of any spicy, meaty products encased in skin...

With our bellies gorged and our middle names changed to 'heart attack', we decided that we better get off our lardy backsides and do some sightseeing. Past the culinary delights of West Brunswick we found Melbourne to be a great city, with a more mellow & hip vibe then the loud and outrageous vocals of Sydney. With art galleries and museums, and a free tram to take you round the city circle we explored the city for 2 days. Harmeet not being able to contain the deranged groupie in herself, demanded that a trip to Ramsey Street on the Official Neighbours Tour was order of the day and was hoping she could have her photo taken with Paul Robinson or even the Godfather of Neighbours - Harold Bishop. Alas her hopes were scuppered as Harold had left the show to go travelling around Oz, and even though you do get to meet someone from the cast of Neighbours, they cant tell you who it will be as it all depends on filming schedules. Well we couldn't risk spending all those dollars on not getting to see Paul Robinson (and his peg leg), so we rocked up to Ramsey Street by ourselves in our white van and settled on posing for 5 million pics or so outside Paul Robinson's house instead. You can do the Official Neighbours Tour if you want to, but with not even two cents two rub together, taking those pics ourselves was just as good as being outside Number 10 Downing St, or Buckingham Palace...


2 hours later, after Stan had insulted the director by asking him if he was the local gardener and that maybe the front gardens needed attending to as they were a bit scruffy(!), we headed down towards Philip Island to see the spectacle of a thousand or so fairy penguins come in from sea back to their nests. Well we had no idea what a touristy place it would be. Having arrived at about 6pm we were eventually allowed out to the 'stadium', an area decked with rows of seating facing the beach with huge flood lights on either side. It was akin to Wembly Stadium! We were told that no one was allowed to photograph the penguins as the flashlight scares them - never mind the 5000 watt flood lights that beamed down onto the beach, like we were about to watch the premier league championship on the sand before us. Well we sat there with loads of others shivering our butts off waiting for the little bleeders and then at dusk around about 7.45pm, hundreds of tiny little fairy penguins no bigger than 41cm in height started waddling in to shore in little gangs of 40 or 50. You could see them waiting for their mates while they were probably wondering what the hell we were all doing watching them. They waited and waited and then would make a break for it and start waddling as fast as those tiny little penguin feet could take them. There was always one fat little penguin right at the back desperately trying to keep up, but who would end up falling splat on his face - it was most entertaining for me - but Harmeet, as blind as a bat couldn't see a damn thing in the dark till they got really close (advice to others who plan to go there - start munching on those carrots!). The best thing about the whole night though, was that when you head back to the centre, many of the walking tracks for the penguins to get to their burrows run parallel to the boardwalks, so you end up literally a few feet away from them with nothing more than a wire fence separating you. They're also noisy little buggers!! About 800 came in that night and it is well worth the effort to go there even despite how touristy it was.

Well getting back to the warmth and comfort of David's house was a welcome relief and as all the Aussies rave about AFL - the Australian Football League, David had done us the honour of buying us a couple of tickets to see an AFL footy match. Well its about as similar to British football, as a nun to a strip joint! AFL is an amalgamation of footy, rugby, basketball and kabaddi!!!! The game is totally loco dudes!! Its like no other sport I've seen - they kick the rugby shaped ball, throw it, bounce it - hell anything goes! And the most bizarre thing about it all? Well the fans aren't separated like in football, seating is not allocated to each team, meaning that you are most likely to be sitting next to your opposition! And no-one riots or has a scrap - its all very civilised. Can you imagine a Villa fan sitting next to a Chelsea supporter? They'd both be head butting and uppercutting each other before the match even started...

Well after a great match and a great week in Melbourne we felt it was time to move on and actually start moving towards the outback. David had already gone on holiday and so we decided to up and leave town spending a day down the Great Ocean Road. The drive down the south west along the winding coast and past these great ocean views looking out to some sort of rock formation not far from the coast was spectacular. We had clear skies and sunny weather and so these big ole lumps of rock (The 12 apostles, London Bridge, The Grotto etc) looked even more amazing! And so onwards and upwards we travelled trying to hurry up a little, so we could start warming our bones and our cold tootsies in the blazing heat of the red centre...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1206229620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1206229620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1206229620/tpod.html Wed, 03 Sep 2008 02:34:30 -0400 Round the world as slowly as possible...

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Bondi, Australia

Big ole Oz. After NZ we'd be fine right? No language barriers, modern, a home from home really, so it'd be easy peasy yeah? Nope, not on your nelly. We flew into Sydney and headed straight for the rather colourful Kings Cross, on Good Friday, to be faced with every backpacker joint stuffed to the rafters and an area gracing many ladies of the night. Now normally this wouldn't faze us. But after coming from NZ which has a total population of 4 million and into Sydney which houses 4 million Aussies in the city alone, we got culture shock big time. The hostels were expensive dives and seemed to be devoid of any female travellers. Kings Cross with its neon lights and chaotic city buzz was a combination of Amsterdam and a Blade runner-esque Hong Kong. Harmeet hated it immediately and even though we met some friendly Aussies in the local Mexican joint, she wanted to get on the plane and head back to NZ.

So we headed to Bondi the next day, which was a little better, but was full of glammed up tourists and locals so we both fitted in really well - us being backpacker scum an all. Our backpacker joint in Bondi was a slighter better dive than the first joint and filled with peeps who only seemed to want to get rat faced every night of the week. This was our first experience of the beer swilling Aussie culture, to consume alcohol rather like its water. I think most Aussies could quite easily eat their cornflakes drenched in beer. In fact the Aussie's must be honorary Punjabi's, cos I have never seen so much alcohol being guzzled aside from at Punjabi Weddings. Bring out the Johnnie Walker Black Label!!

We did the usual touristy run of events, Sydney Harbor Bridge, the ferry to Manly & Sydney Opera House, which looks good from the outside but is a depressing concrete monstrosity from the inside. Keen to get on the road most of our time was spent looking for a set of wheels and boy did we see some rust heaps! Most backpackers will either look on the notice boards, go to a dealer, or go to Kings Cross Car Market. One backpacker tried to sell us his van with no reverse and tried to convince us, that as we'd only ever be going forward it was a false economy investing in a reverse gear! Another wanted AUS $ 4000 for a van which had smoke pouring out the exhaust, didn't have the right papers and which kept backfiring. So we headed to Kings Cross car market only to find more overpriced vehicles with high mileage and a whole string of repairs that the previous owners had carried out. Now if you're heading up the east coast, across the Nullabor, or up the west coast - then this is probably fine, as even if you break down you wont be very far from a mechanic. As our plans meant driving through the outback and Harmeet was filled with nightmarish visions of Wolf Creek we just didn't wanna risk buying something which would inevitably breakdown and would cost us thousands in repair in the middle of nowhere, or that we would have to ditch, running away screaming as a psychotic mad man chased after us with a machete.

So after getting in touch with Wendy an ex-pat repatriated and most definitely an honorary brummie now living in the sunshine haven of Port Macquarie, a place filled with beaches and a population made up of mainly anyone over the age of 60, we decided to take up her offer to come and play and headed up the east coast for a week of fun. And boy was it fun. Indeed Wendy came to the rescue with an African drumming class (which left us with bruised fingers!), an exhibition opening, dinner party after dinner party, where Harmeet flexed her now redundant cooking skills with a domestic flair that Delia would've been proud of! We ogled at the super human feat of the Iron Man Competition where crazy peeps run, cycle and swim over a total of 80km and went to the rather sad koala hospital where these furry creatures are in recovery, because they have either been mauled by dogs, got burnt in bush fires, or are ill due to a rather nasty koala infliction called wet bottom - which can make them infertile and cause blindness. After visiting the hospital we felt really sorry for these poor buggers who are often quite stoned due to the eucalyptus they eat and for whom life is rather hard...

We managed a spot of rather bad surfing on the excellent breaks on all the golden sandy beaches and visited the Billabong reserve to tickle some rather cute wallabies and kangaroos and see some much healthier Koalas then their ill counterparts. Even with this week of fun we were still brain dead and exhausted. Sydney had been a huge culture shock and deciding what was the best form of transport for our budget - bus, train, car, van, (to buy or not to buy that was the question!) was more taxing than Einsteins theory of relativity. We didn't want to hire some wheels as 3 months on the road and petrol consumption would kill us. We couldn't find anything decent to buy and as we were in NSW at the beginning of winter every lift offer was heading north up the east coast and not south.

Then on the day before we decided to leave Stan saw it - the one - a Toyota Townace 1994 in pristine condition - she was a real beauty! Owned by Ros and complete with pink seat covers she was being sold as the elderly couple were downsizing and needed to get rid of a vehicle. Stan sealed the deal at AU $2800 a real bargain and she purred like a kitten. Wendy's friends helped Stan pimp our ride and kit it out with a raised bed, kitchen & curtains and even cleansed the van of any bad karma, (incense, good energy and a dog called Buddha required for the task at hand). Ready to go we spent a night on the beach in Port Macquarie as a test run, playing Uno with a group of 10 highly competitive french backpackers - who knew Uno could get so serious!! And after one last hot shower and a big goodbye to Wendy we hit the road back to Sydney stopping at the stunning blue mountains and then south along the coast for a road trip of a lifetime...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1206056580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1206056580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1206056580/tpod.html Sat, 16 Aug 2008 07:50:01 -0400 Round the world as slowly as possible...

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Sumner, New Zealand

So we got to Queenstown, a rather touristy hub filled with endorphin raging backpackers eager to jump, dive, white water raft - in fact any adrenaline pumping activity thats fit to make your eyeballs explode. There was the question of course, as to whether we would do a bungee jump so we headed to Kawarau Bridge - the birthplace of the modern bungee. Even if you would rather chew your own toenails than do a bungee, this a great place to visit and watch foolish people throwing themselves off a platform in a rather foolhardy fashion, attached to a giant elastic cord over a bridge, with the added extra of having your head submerged in the river below if you're hard, or not, if you don't do the wet look. There is a great video as you enter showing how AJ Hackett the inventor of the bungee discovered it decades ago amongst a tribe of people in Vanuatu, who would throw themselves head first off a 50ft platform using just a jungle vine to support them - and many of whom crash land into the ground head butting the terra firma with an almighty heave ho. After watching that any bungee looks very very safe...

Anyhoo we spent about 20 mins watching these crazy peeps and then Stan feeling rather gung ho decides that his life will be far more enriched if he walks the gangplank and throws himself off the edge of the bridge. Never one to back down I agree that yes we should do this as who needs eyeballs, clean thunderpants, or stuff like that. We head to the counter to pay our fee both hoping the other one will break first, neither one of us flinching or breaking into a sweat. The thought of bungee-ing makes me want to chunder but I mustn't reveal this to the enemy (that would be Stan at that pt in time). Thankfully the last 2 tickets for the day have been sold and we breathe a huge sigh of relief! Bungee crisis over we drive off and out of Queenstown knowing we will never grace this activity again and thank fate along the way.

As we head to Dunedin the uni capitol of NZ we wonder if our South American homees will wanna link up and catch up on the goss. So we text the Dent School Crew of whom we partied hard with in Bolivia's south over the salt lakes and through Chile. As any backpacker will know - you end up exchanging emails with the whole world and its dog - never to know if you'll ever really keep in touch or see that person again. So we waited with anticipation to see if the gang would reunite, or if we'd be cast off like an old holiday romance. Well we had nothing to worry about. It turns out that burping, farting, snoring, eating, being sick and playing cards with them really did endear us to being friends forever. (altogether now - Awwww!!!). The lovely Kate (AKA K-dog) hosted us in her rather posh student digs and we were taken round the uni, given free meals and felt like we really had gone through a time warp and were back at uni once again. Oh to be young again!!

After 3 days of great company, telly, food & hot showers we waved them goodbye and onto Christchurch stopping only at the Moeraki Boulders - a fascinating site on the beach at Koekahe, where these giant sized rocks which look like alien eggs from the film Cocoon, slowly plopped on to the beach over many years, as the wind and elements eroded the cliffs leaving them bare and exposed. No one really knows how they were formed, and keen to see if they really did posses alien powers we touched them, hugged them, sat on them, stood on them, hopped skipped and jumped along them and even licked them (not that tasty) but alas the shopping bags were still under my eyes and Stan's hair was still grayer than a bunnies bottom.

By this point 6 weeks of camping in the car had taking its toll. Homocide was on the cards and to avoid a deadly clash of the Titans we decided to break our budget and stay in a backpackers joint in Sumner. I can only describe sleeping in a bed as heavenly. No car seat digging into your back, no having to get up in the middle of the night fumbling for the door and going to water the bushes, no waking up with your face stuck to the wet condensation soaked window dribbling like a rabid dog while innocent passers by stare and point at you. Just a comfy mattress and an air raid siren waking us at 4am - it was bliss!

Well in order to afford this splurge in Sumner we spent the next 2 days doing odd jobs for the hostel to get free board and fish & chip money. As we slogged away for the 1st time in 5 months it felt great to be doing something as banal as stacking wooden logs and moving furniture. Ah the joys of work - eh?

New Zealand over we were surprised at how quickly our 6 weeks had passed. We had enjoyed every minute of it and no matter what anyone says we preferred the North Island to the South. The Maori's & Kiwi's are truly friendly people - random strangers will invite you to stay in their house and they don't treat you with suspicion or fear as we often tend to do in the West. We were awed by the beauty of the landscape and could see why its important to the people of NZ. Our trip as always defined by our love affair with food was marked by the huge jam sandwich & chocolate ice cream milkshake consumption (thanks Debi!!) and road tripping had taken its toll on our ever increasing fat guts. Indeed all that road munchie-ing had left our money belts and thus passports with a curvature greater than that of the earths.

We thought we were ready to move on, we thought we were ready for anything, we thought we could handle Oz, we thought wrong...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1205451420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1205451420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1205451420/tpod.html Sat, 09 Aug 2008 08:49:40 -0400 Round the world as slowly as possible...

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Dunedin, New Zealand

just testing
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Wanaka, New Zealand

Having left Taupo on a real low, our spirits were bolstered meeting the fabulous Nic & Charly (fellow Poms) who were sort of heading in the same direction as us. We set up camp by a small stream and chatted the night away under the glory of the milky way, while swatting all those pesky sand flies that appear at dusk to suck the blood out of you. Having talked til the wee hours of 11.30pm (!) we retired after watering the bushes to our cosy condensation and damp filled Hilton. After surviving another hypothermic night in the wheels, we parted company and headed for the incredibly boring art deco city of Napier. Now I'm sure that this city is a fun filled hotbed of excitement but the post non skydiving blues had got to us big time, and had left us as happy as a pair of lemmings on electro shock therapy...

So we jumped ship and headed to Wellington with enough time to visit the excellent Te Papa Museum. This museum rocks! And you don't have to be a braniac to appreciate it. Its marvelous because...
a) Its full of all sorts of interactive whizz bobbles designed to keep you entertained not comatose,

b) Its full of Maori history, Kiwi history and earthy history (Harmeet particularly liked the globe that showed how mankind has been migrating for centuries and fully appreciated this fact by spinning the globe repeatedly like a contestant on the Wheel of Fortune)

c)Its FREE!! Yippee!! That golden word that makes all backpackers do the running man & whoop for joy.

Now forget what all the guidebooks say about 2 hrs. Rock up to Te Papa early in the morn with yer packed lunch and stay all day - its that good!

Anyhoo - after an entertaining 3hrs we had to leave to catch our ferry over to the South Island. As we settled in to lounging for 2hrs, we couldn't believe how quickly 3 weeks had passed especially living in our Lilliputian sized car. We had become experts at freedom camping - sniffing out good sites to sleep, away from hoodlums and nasty council workers who might've been looking to fine us for freedom camping illegally (boo!). We had made great friends along the way, missed the deserted golden beaches of the northland, the almighty presence of the 2000 year old Kauri trees and the X files type night walks through the forest, with only the red glow of our headlights and the glowworms lighting the way. Most people say that you should hop, skip and jump straight over to the South Island but we loved the North Island and had big expectations for the Babylonian shores of the promised South Land.

We were met with rain. It rained so solidly in Nelson that Harmeet convinced herself it was dry. The famous Abel Tasman Park was never to meet our eyes as the rain drove us away and all the way to Cape Foulwind. It wasn't so foul after all and we swam in the cold sea, which we were in desperate need of, especially as Harmeets hair had dreaded itself into 1 big fat dreadlock and we were now producing a rather toxic scent akin to teargas, that the government could've bottled and used as biological warfare. After a rather refreshing paddle we walked to the sea-lion colony to point and go 'ooh' at these aquatic beauties, most of which were inactive apart from the playful pups frolicking in the sea...

Over the next few days we continued south down the west coast battling the rain and the cold, stopping at Punakaiki to see the fabulous Pancake Rocks, which were formed aeon's ago in different layers and have been eroded by the wind and sea into all sorts or groovy formations. Harmeet's overactive imagination could see all sorts or goblins, ogres and monsters frozen solid in the rocks, which I thought was normal for her, until she has a complete panic attack while walking to some caves in the pitch black that following night. It turns out the sounds of the pounding waves and the crashing of the sea against the rocks, gave her the colly wobbles big time and it was time for me to crush a Valium into her cup of tea that night...

Major wibbles over, the cave was rather disappointing, after walking into the deep, dark cavern filled with strange shadows and that felt like an 80's horror movie, where you're about to get death gripped and eaten alive by a giant half man, half kebab type monster, we came across 3, yes just 3 bloody glow worms...

The following day we got to Franz Josef exhausted and cold and splashed out on paying for a hot shower in one of the hostels in town. The $8 we spent got us a shower and free use of the hostel, so we indulged in making tuna pasta (an impossibility in the car on a 1 stove burner and with a pan that could only hold a thimble full of water) and we spent the evening in the cosy surroundings of the TV room watching The Italian Job. Oh how we missed walls and buildings!

Now the Franz Josef and Fox glaciers are amazing. They are! But we were so disappointed when we saw them. Why? Were we not impressed with natures ability to create giant rivers of ice that move only a few inches per day? Did we not realise that the creation of these 7000 year old glaciers was a bit more complicated than making a tray of ice cubes? Apparently not. The complacency of long term travel had struck. We had been wowed by the Perito Mereno glacier in Argentina. It was the mother of all things icy. We had watched it for hours as big chunks of it fell in a melodramatic thunder into the icy blue lake around it. It was magnetising. Franz and Fox were on the other hand, well, a little bit grubby, stubby and less Hollywood - if you know what we mean. Well we ended up giving ourselves a few slaps around the chops to get out of the 'been there, seen that' mentality and still appreciate the glaciers heaving mass...

And then where? The glorious Milford Sound? Nope. On our backpacker budget of zilch, we realised that we couldn't really afford to take a cruise around the Sounds without having to sell a kidney or 3 (and we worked out that we both needed to keep at least one each), so we bypassed the South Islands Holy Grail and headed to the warm and sunny climes of Wanaka. With the damp in our bones finally drying out, we set upon completing a foolish crusade we had started upon weeks earlier. Yes. Our mission should we choose to accept it, was to fling ourselves out of an airplane kamikaze sty-lee.

We booked ourselves in with Skydive Wanaka and was greeted by the stony faced mare at reception whose icy glance could give you a myocardial infarction. Our nerves proceeded to twist themselves into a huge knot which could not be relieved by the pre jump golf, or clay pigeon shooting we tried at the rifle range opposite. Well the time had come. Were we men or mice? Harmeet was all mouse and had a last minute attack of hysteria and couldn't stop crying like a big girls blouse. Loads of people kept coming in from their jumps and rabbiting on about how amazing it all was, which did nothing to calm our nerves and all 10 of us sat there in silence. I however - Stanley the second, puffed out my chest like a heroic gladiator and was ready to meet my destiny with gravity. What did I have to be scared of anyway? Gravity is the weakest force in the universe...

So we met our instructors - guys who had jumped anywhere between 10 - 15 thousand times & who are truly incredible people. Suited and booted and with Sandra, a resident Kiwi who was also jumping with us, we climbed into the plane to meet our fate at 15 000ft, with our DVD filmaking skydivers recording every quivering lip and nervous flatulent movement. The flight up was a surprising calm one. I was to jump first, Sandra 2nd and Harmeet last. From the air we could see Mount Cook in the distance and the lake beneath us. The vista and the instructors calm voice turned into a hazy distant blurb, as I listened to the beating of my heart and the gas in my belly.

As Harmeet sat at the back with a vacant grin the hatch opened and the rushing cold air hit my face. The instructor had given us all instructions, head back, shoulders back, pelvis forward, feet together and as he shuffled forward and we sat on the edge of oblivion all I could think was ' What do I do again?...'

Then all of a sudden we jumped and I suddenly realized the insanity of what I was doing. The cold air pushes against your body and your face, giving you a funky g force wobbly look. You spin around and the diver filming you tries to shake your hand and pinch your nose - well they try and do anything to make you engage and 'give it large' to the camera. You don't somersault on a tandem cos they have to use a static line, a small tiny shute to stabilise 2 falling bodies and slow your speed down, from an otherwise deadly 500mph to a more sensible 300mph (!). The free fall only lasted a minute, but felt like forever and it is true what the instructors tell you - you really don't feel like you're falling, cos your brain cannot comprehend the distance at 15 000 ft. The next thing I remember is the shute being pulled and thinking 'Damn, its nearly over...'

As I landed I saw Harmeet above me coming down and within 7 minutes it was all over. After doing a few endorphin induced running mans for the camera, we had hit a huge comedown - literally. We were both exhausted and drained and couldn't even string a sentence together. The adrenaline keeping us together had evaporated and we had been reduced to a pair of gibbering fools. Harmeet's teeth were incredibly painful, but thats what you get for grinning like a psychotic monkey for a minute of free-fall at 300mph. Within 10 minutes our DVD's and pics were ready and as we walked out the door, we told all the ghostly pale backpackers waiting for their dives that it was totally incredible and they would love every minute of it...

Would we do it again? Absolutely. Would we so it solo? Most definitely. Would we do a bungee? Well we were heading to Queenstown, the mother of all adventure sports, so we would have to wait and see...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1204237920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1204237920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamkhan/rtw2007/1204237920/tpod.html Tue, 08 Jul 2008 04:38:31 -0400 Round the world as slowly as possible...

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Whakapapa Village, New Zealand

At last we found some sun in Taupo - a town built around a beautiful humongous lake, which you could swim in if hypothermia takes ya fancy and where you could dabble in a bit of golf or do a skydive. Now for years I had been saying to Stanley that I would do a skydive a million times over any day of the week. Suddenly we arrived in Taupo and the skydive 'will we wont we' question hung over us like a fog of uncertainty. Stan decided to take the matter into his own hands and drove us to the airport on our 2nd day in Taupo - he was hoping to psyche me out, but he forgot how competitive I am! So we got to the skydive place just in time to see about 15 bodies falling out of the sky in free fall and then gracefully floating back to earth once the parachutes were opened. Stanley of latin incarnate wanted to do it there and then in a rather 'carpe diem' moment - which was no bad thing as the adrenaline was already pumping through our bodies and making the veins on our foreheads throbby. But they were full so we booked ourselves in for 1st thing in the morning...

Fight or flight? The time had come. Everyone copes with stress differently. Stan had spent the night tossing and turning dreaming of every worst case scenario possible and he awoke in the morning to tell me that he had just dreamt of jumping out the airplane only to find that the tandem instructor wasn't strapped to him. Oops!! Meanwhile I had slept like the dead. We got to the airport at 10am and my nerves kicked in. I was hysterical - a jibbering mess. But the weather was ominous with big dark clouds hanging in the sky and the dive instructors couldn't give the clearance to go up. 10am turned to 11am and we were finally allowed to get suited and booted. Just as we started walking to the plane the skies turned grey and the tiny little raindrops pelting down meant there was no chance in hell we were gonna jump any higher then 2ft off the ground. "Call us at 12noon" they said. And we did, and it was still a no-no. So we carried on in this yo-yo-ing fashion calling them every hour, until they finally cancelled the dive at 4pm. We were totally gutted. We kept looking at the sky thinking - we nearly did it. It was only then that we realised how desperate we were to throw ourselves out of a plane - when fate had snatched it out of our hands. Depressed and gutted we went to consume our sorrows with junk food.

Now anyone visiting NZ will realise that this is the place to do alot of walking, or tramping as they called it. Specially so if you're a bit of a Tolkien nut and want to do a Lord of the Rings pilgrimage. Well about 30mins away from Taupo is the Tongarairo National Park. This is the place where Mount Doom was shot and where most of the scenes in Mordor took place. In an attempt to lose that fat gut that had slowly been appearing from road tripping and jam sandwich consumption, we decided to do one said tramp through the park, and this was an excellent moment to attempt to outdo Peter Jacksons efforts on the trilogy. You can see our stunning directorial debut on this blog!! Be honest - we think it could be up for an Oscar nomination!

Having exercised those legs a little and determined to try and sky dive somewhere else in NZ we packed up and headed to the rather boring art deco city of Napier...
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Rotorua, New Zealand

So we got to Roturua - the centre of the North Island. A literal melting pot of steaming geysers, fumoroles, bubbling boiling mud holes and sulphorous activity and you could smell its bad egginess from miles away. It has been described as 'hell on earth' cos of the obvious imagery it evokes, but it is a magnificant place to see all sorts of boiling sulphur mud glooping and see steam spurting out of the ground. In the thermal parks the ground is hot to touch and warms your tootsies, which was a good thing as it had been raining solidly for 3 days and we refused to be parted from our jandels (thats flip flops to you guys) which had by now been welded onto our backpacker feet. Now if we dont sound too enthusiastic about all this geo-thermal activity its not cos it wasn't impressive - it is. But we had seen it all before in Bolivia's harsh southern landscape when Jess had decided to throw herself into a boiling mud hole like a WWF wrestler. And in true South American style, nothing was fenced off, there were no boardwalks anywhere, no warning signs about, it was just you and the tantalisingly angry landscape.

But it rained and rained and then rained some more. This made sleeping in our car a real joy - as much joy as an ingrowing toenail or an itchy verrucca. Yes, we would go to sleep with the rat-a-tat of the rain pelting down on the roof and wake up to a soggy mess of condensation and damp clothes - oh the joys of road tripping! Well as you can imagine cooking was out of the question in these gale force conditions, so Stan made it his raison d'être to try and blag as many free meals as was humanly possible. We went to all the big cholestorol laden fast food joints and Stanley sweet talked meal after super sized meal for a week and a half. Sounds great doesn't it? The first 2 times it was great but by the end of our calorie laden week we both felt really really ill - iller than a pair of foie gras force fed chooks!

But aside from the weather our time in Rotorua wasn't so bad - we got used to the sulphuric pong in the air and even splashed out on a Maori Cultural performance. Run by a pair of Harley loving Maori brothers this company takes you out to the village (or should we say set) where you get to see how maori people live and work with the land. It was ok - but to be fair it was very Hollywood and was a performance rather than a working village. It was good - but didn't feel authentic. The Hangi though (maori food which is buried and steam cooked over hot coals) was awesome. We didn't talk to anyone that night - we just scoffed in silence - heads down military style, getting as much food down the cakehole as possible.

With our bellies full of real food, we went home to our luxury set of soggy wheels and made plans to hit the road the following day in the hope of hitting some sunshine...
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Dargaville, New Zealand

Now everyone will try and tell you that there is nothing on the North Island and that you should head straight for the South Island, cos its far more beautiful and thats where all the action is. Never ones to listen to the advice of others, we decided not to head south straight away and instead headed up the Northland hitting all the beaches on the west coast first. So with our brand spankin set of wheels we headed for the black sand beach of Muriwai where the waves relentlessly pound the shores and as none of the beaches are patrolled if you dont use your noggin, then you could end up being swept out to sea or drowning (oo er missus!).

We christened our cooking stove that night by making a superbly healthy meal of fried bread and eggs - which we greedily ate ignoring the impending heart attack that awaited after such a monstrously greasy fry up. Our super duper motor home which was basically a nissan estate equipped with mattress, cooking stove, cutlery and curtains wasn't so bad to sleep in - it was the question of trying to find a good safe spot to camp. Rich folks may have been inclined to camp in proper campsites but not us - hell no. A mixture of budget-itis and hardcore backpacker thriftiness meant that we would spend the next 6 weeks 'freedom camping', that is parking up, cooking, eating and camping where we felt like. This is perfectly legal in NZ and apart from a few places (National parks and popular tourist towns like Taupo & Wanaka etc) you can do this anywhere. Of course you need to have your common sense radar on and beach carparks are not often the best places to freedom camp as we realised that first night and had to move due to lots of dodgy nocturnal goings on, which left me a bit nervous wheras Stanley was oblivious and was Z-ing away in the land of the fairies...

Now all you brits will know that beaches tend to be a soggy affair back home, apart from when the sun comes out for 5 mins and then every man, woman and child, with dog, cat and pet stick insect in tow flock to the beach simultaneously. So we didn't get the whole big deal with beaches - and then we got to NZ. We fell in love with the empty golden stretches of sand, the pounding waves on the west coast (great for surfing and being knocked off your feet) and the gentle come hither waves on the east coast (great for swimming and then getting sunburnt!). This was never more epitomised then at Baylys Beach near Dargaville, where we met the lovely Brian - a cheeky chappie who felt sorry for us poor sods and took us home so we could park and sleep in the safety of their front garden. Well Brian invited us in for a cuppa and before you know it his lovely missus Debi was making us chocolate ice cream milkshakes and we were chatting away to their fab children. We ended up staying for 3 days having fun in their fabulous company and they forced us (yes forced I tell you!) to take their quad bikes out on to the beach with a huge picnic filled with all sorts of unsaintly foodstuffs.

Then disaster struck. Stan's camera went kaputski after a meer 3 months of trigger happiness. He was mortified. Distraught. Heartbroken. Inconsolable. He had become like the Borg and gotton used to seeing the world through the eye of a lens and now cameraless and naked he started having panic attacks. In fact he was so worried that the index finger on his right hand would atrophy, that he resorted to picking those vacuos black hole nostrils of his, just in order to prevent muscle wastage on his prescious trigger finger - genius! We sent the camera back to Blighty to be fixed, only to have it impounded by the muppets at customs!!

Having been pampered, fattened up and with all the nits washed out of our hair and with only our naff camera on our camcorda, we continued up the west coast promising our new adoptive family that we would return on our way back down. After much beach bumming we eventually got to Cape Reinga - the most Northernly point in NZ and after a few snaps, promptly headed to the Te Paki Stream at the end of the North Islands infamous 90 mile beach, where cars often get stuck in quick sand and get washed out to sea at high tide (hence we took the road!). We were confronted with mile upon mile of sky high sand dunes that crazy peeps throw themselves down on sand boards. After climbing these huge dunes we went for it - beginners go down sitting on the board, the nutcases go lying face forward & this is when you realise that screaming your lungs out is not a good move as sand is not so tasty...

Coming back down the East Coast after spending a night at a Maori campsite in Shipwreck Bay complete with wild horses and pigs, we skimmed quickly past the touristy Bay of Islands, only stopping long enough to brain up on the Waitangi Treaty from the info in our guide books, after we realised that we couldn't afford to go to the museum. Well the Waitangi Treaty is a bit of a point of contention and basically was a document signed by the head of all the Maori tribes in return for Queen Vic's protection. The contention arises in the fact that the english version reads slightly differently to the Maori version and implies quite clearly that the Maori people were relinquishing their sovereignty to their land in return for this protection from the Queen. The Maori version doesn't point this out quite so clearly...

It was fascinating to read about and very interesting - from the few Maori's we spoke to it isn't a point of conflict, more something to reflect upon, which they do on Waitangi Day (an official Bank Holiday on the 6th Feb). We paid a return visit to Brian, Debi & Co. back at Baylys Beach where Brian showed us around his incredible kumara (sweet potato) farm and having annoyed them for a few days more, we finally headed down through the middle and in the direction of the eggy centre of the North Island, realising that we had fallen in love with the Northland and the amazing people we had met along the way...
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Port Macquarie, Australia

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Auckland, New Zealand

After leaving Puerto Iguazu and having a respite stop and de ja vu in Rosario (because of the turd landmines on every inch of footpath - it brought back memories of B.A!), we quickly passed through Mendoza finding that apart from the great street theatre, there was nothing in Mendoza to write home about. So we booked our coach to Santiago in Chile and all was going well til we hit the border crossing on that Saturday afternoon.

We sat around for 3 hours while nothing happened and then finally we were ushered off our coach to go though immigrations and customs.

Harmeet (who we all know is easily pleased) got very excited when the customs police officer called out our seat numbers. For some bizarre reason her sausage brain thought we had won a prize. She was still grinning from ear to ear like a hyena until they took us out the back and up some stairs...

It seemed that our prize was interrogation for the drugs they had found under our chair...

At this point Harmeet thought that the louder she said 'No, no no, Senor!' would somehow exonerate her from any narcotic substances and she immeadiately broke out into a guilty sweat and a mild panic! When the customs officer took out our rather colourful pack of playing cards covered in illustrations of bongs and spliffs that we had aquired years ago in Amsterdam, we groaned and made a mental note to self to give them away before the next border crossing.

After going through our bags with a fine tooth comb for 30 minutes, even sniffing Harmeet's moisturiser and checking our money belts, they finally let us go. Then Harmeet ever one to encapsulate a moment with her savvy tongue said 'ciao ciao, Vive la Argentina!'

''Noooooo!!'' they replied with some spanish expletives - it turned out we were now in Chile!! Ooops!! Thankfully they didn't mind this blinding faux pas too much and we got back on the bus, to find out they had also questioned an American guy with his Brazilian wife. He could speak Spanish really well and it turned out that they hadn't found any drugs at all, but that the sniffer dogs had gone beserk around our seats. We were relieved. We didn't think they would have let us back on the bus had they found any drugs, of any sort, so as the bus finally continued forth to Santiago, we said a few thanks to the man upstairs...

As we boarded the plane the day after, having succombed to one final curry in Santiago, (mmm!) we sat back in cattle class and reminisced about the comfy 20hr bus journeys we were so fond of. Yes, our bus trips around South America were way kinda on the knees and our backsides then any plane journey we had ever taken. The TV screens on the jumbo were a small consolation and made up for the fact that we would've found more comfort in a skoda, but we were too exhausted to take full advantage and fell asleep (without the aid of sleeping pills for once!).

South America had been an incredible start to our trip and we were kinda reluctant to leave. We had got used to speaking bad spanish and crossing borders and amidst all the unfamiliarity we had got to enjoy the latin american vibe. The South Americans are sooooo laid back. Everything is 'manyana, manyana' (thats tomorrow, tomorrow for you gringos) which suited our lazy style of travelling. We were gonna miss it but we had to move on...

Now for all you peeps planning a trip to SA here's a bit of indispensible travel advice.

1. Always carry a Swiss Army Knife at all times for those extreme survival scenarios, like slicing open your stale rock hard bun and cutting your 2 day old rubbery cheese.

2. A cheap poncho is a must as the term 'horizontal rain' was coined for SA. Wherever you are, in whatever season you hit, the rain will get you. (Fear not you sun bunnies as it lasts the best part of 20mins and then the sun comes out).

3. Always take your sleeping bag on board any overnight buses otherwise you'll get hyperthermia from the air conditioning (they dont always give you blankets).

4. Buy a travel pillow to stop your head lolling around from side to side and breaking those precious Z's. Plus if you're travelling alone you're less likely to wake up dribbling on some poor strangers shoulder.

5. A head light is a great investment for all situations. Reading in your bunk without annoying other peeps and especially handy for those pitch black loos where you just cant balance a torch on your head.

There are countless other pearls of wisdom we could pass on - but then that would make it far too easy and that goes against the spirit of backpacking!

So finally 13hrs later we arrived at the ungodly hour of 3am in Auckland, New Zealand, to find that the lovely Chris & Jane were ready to pick us up. The kindness of strangers really does exist and it helps when you have a big sis and bro-in-law with ace mates around the globe (thanks Pip!!).

Chris and Jane promptly gave us all the love, indulgence and luxuries that all backpackers believe is an urban myth while travelling; hot showers with water coming out as a spray and not a scalding trickle or even a freezing cold solid block of water that has the power to give you concussion - showers without having to wear flips flops - a warm comfy bed with clean linen, muffins on tap and fabulous company from Chris, Jane and Joan and their 3 fluffy llamas and the 2 lovely cats.

We were so shocked at their incredible hospitality that we suggested we sleep in their garage as thats what we'd got used to - real basic digs. But they wouldn't let us sleep in there cos the Harleys took up all the room! So we spent 3 days recuperating in their company, Stan observing the finer details of their superb view of Auckland from the hot tub!

They were incredible hosts taking us to the lovely Mission Bay for some beach time, up to Mount Eden for free panoramic views of Auckland unlike the admission price for the Sky Tower which involves selling a kidney. Next to Bastion Pt were the 1st Labour Prime Minister of NZ is commemorated, then a fabulous barbie with their friends and Chris even took us out for a ride on those incredible Harleys with Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers playing in the background while the wind rushed through our hair! (No wind actually thats a lie - we were wearing helmets, but you know what we mean!)

3 days later we left - bewildered at being back in the world of the backpacker after feeling like we were at home. We were rundown and completely burnt out from SA - our immune systems had taken a severe battering and were about as useful as a pair of rubber chickens. It was self inflicted of course - thats what you get travelling around 4 big ole countries in 3 months, so we avoided the backpacker circuit and booked into a cheap hotel to hibernate and get well.

2 days later after guzzling a tanker full of OJ and complete with a spanking set of wheels (a hired station wagon that would be our home for the next 6 weeks, but more about that another time), we left Auckland and headed for the Northland...
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