So yet again we found ourselves on the highway to adventure, not able to comprehend for a second that any other city could even come close to our last adventure. We were now off to the French Riviera,  and we were ready to explode with the excitement.

Well some more than others. As the photos show, the sight you see was a familiar one, that all man and beast were to behold every time we stopped at a service station. For some reason, toilet facilities in Europe left a lot to be desired, and to top it off there were a lot more girls than men on the bus. The look of frustration on local women who had to wait at least 15 mins; as they waited in line after all the Top Deck girls, was not a pretty one

Hell hath no fury than a woman spurned… or one waiting in line to use the toilet.

Again as the photo shows, I had a nice thick double glazed window to protect me from the girls wrath, or I may not be sitting here writing this blog. Though, enough toilet humour for this blog, I digress.

Personally, I wanted to see if the French Riviera lived up to its name. I was not to be disappointed. The weather was perfect, and we found ourselves staying right in central Nice. As soon as we’d dropped off our bags at the hotel, our lovely tour guide Lia led us to dinner  at a fabulous restaurant. We would learn many things from wise Lia on our trip – Lia was the one who taught us the technical term “der-ish-ous” – A term used to describe food so delicious, that a person would almost certainly be drooling while saying delicious – therefore the word coming out as “der-ish-ous”. The French local food at dinner was indeed “der-ish-ous”, and the matching wine doubly so.

After dinner we were led to our next evening activity. We arrived at Waynes Bar, where we were served by an Australian of all people who explained to us that it was compulsory to dance on tables once the music started. Hmm…. deja-vu? Memories of Barcelona immediately started rushing back. Before anymore could be said, Brent our illustrious leader (of trouble that is) flung himself on the tables and starting doing a gig – arms flailing  everywhere – he was on fire, literally and metaphorically speaking. Well, when you see how red-faced he looked you’ll agree, that he indeed looked like he was on fire.

A few drinks later, the next Australian trouble maker took up Brents challenge, Ben “The Karate Kid” Morrow was going to show everyone how it was done. He put on his best game face, faced down Brent for a dance off and the status of Alpha-male. Now myself, never being one to turn down a chance to represent New Zealand and save our national pride, wasn’t going to have the Australians dominate the night. With a swift and cat like grace I pounced on the table, and started burning up the dance floor. In this case the dance floor was an extremely solid wooden table. Before deciding to save N.Z’s reputation, I had wisely (having learn from many injuries sustained in the past),  utilised my detailed engineering knowledge (sure I did computer engineering, but it’s the same thing mostly…) and had thoroughly inspected the structural integrity of the table, to ensure that it could indeed handle the insane physics defying moves I was about to bestow upon it.

Before we knew it the entire tour group was on the tables, with a solidarity not seen since the ANZACs in WWII, which neatly brings me to the next part. There we were, representing Oceania, bringing the house down, on two of the three tables that the main area contained. At this point, it was getting quite crowded on our two tables, when I glanced over to the last table. The last remaining stronghold was held by a belligerent group of Germans who looked less than impressed with our high jinks. This would not do I decided, and after a quick pow-wow organised between the Three Musketeers (Brent, Ben and I), it was decided that the entrenched Germans on the Third Table would have to fall.

With a shrill war cry cutting through the reverberating night air, the Australians and New Zealanders (me at the forefront, and with my trusty 2nd in command Mary – who had more than held her own against the Spaniards back in Barcelona) charged/leapt onto the last table and gave the Germans a taste of our own Blitzkrieg. The unprepared Germans males were bowled over like stunned skittles, leaving their defenceless women for the taking. Triumphant, the bloody battle was over in moments, and the German women were up on the tables dancing with the victors.

Now one would presume that was the end of the night, but you’d be wrong. Surely there couldn’t be any more excitement? You forget I was with Brent “The Trouble Maker” Smith and Ben “The Karate Kid” Morrow. After being booted out of the bar at the end of the night (which was a disappointing 2 in the morning vs. Spain where I think they go all night) we decided to head back to home base. Along the way there was much round house kicking performed by Ben and shaking of heads by Brent and myself. All the while never suspecting that Brent was planning his next greatest escapade…

As we walked into the central square of Nice, Brent suddenly broke off from the formation, pirouetted and dove into the main square water fountain. Much to the applause of the rest of us, and like a demented monkey scrambled up the first statue he saw, which happened to be a bull (see pictures below). Thereby, firmly cementing his title of lead trouble maker of the group (which would continue to be cemented during the rest of our trip).

We adventured around the next day seeing all the beautiful sights and sounds of Nice, its beautiful beaches and lively markets. Visited Monaco, which apparently is the most dense country in the world? Hmm, I took offense to this, surely India wins this one?  No, apparently now as I check it up on Wikipedia, it may have been 1st, but it is now 2nd after China. Hmm, Indians time to start making babies methinks.

For our next adventure we were to head off to beautiful Italy and beautiful Tuscany.

So we left beautiful Switzerland and headed back into France and to Avignon. This quaint French town was extremely picturesque, with one feeling like they had been transported back in time, with its cobbled roads and ancient buildings. We wandered around this beautiful town taking in all the history we could, and decided on having a proper French dinner. We settled on a small restaurant, and immediately everyone in our small group looked to me to attempt to speak to the waiter in my rusty French. Luckily for me and my reputation in the group, everyone (but the poor waiter serving us) couldn’t tell how bad my French really was, and all looked in wide eyed amazement (especially the ladies in our group). I was able to bluff my way well enough to ensure everyone got what they wanted as we sat back to an amazing meal and perfectly matching French wines. To finish it all off we had amazing French profiteroles filled with vanilla bean ice cream. These tantalising treats just exploded with flavours in your mouth and set off a thousand taste sensations when one chomped one down.

As the sun set into the French horizon we were treated to a sight I’ve never seen before, as hundreds of ghostly mayflies drifted into sight. It was a real sight to behold as they danced and pirouetted before our very eyes. For those who don’t know mayflies are almost like a cross between dragonflies and butterflies, but with a sad story behind them. For those of you who have never seen the Vodafone mayfly advertisement before, you can have a look here (Vodafone Mayfly Advertisement). The humble adult mayfly emerges with a vestigial mouthpart, and its digestive system is filled with air. So these short lived creatures, as the advertisement alludes to, makes every moment count. For the more curious among us here is some more info (Mayfly wiki information).

As soon as I saw them, I couldn’t but help hear the music from the advertisement play in the background (which is Love song by the artist Kos) and brought a sad smile to my face. It really is a pity that humans don’t follow the same approach and make the most of their lives, using our lives to do good. After a discussion on life in general one time, my mother passed on some words of wisdom to me, which have always stuck with me since she said them. I try to follow as much as possible and it goes a little something like this –

I expect to pass through this world but once;
any good thing therefore that I can do, or any
kindness that I can show to any fellow-creature,
let me do it now; let me not defer or neglect it,
for I shall not pass this way again.

The consequences of our actions ripple out like waves in a pond don’t they? Ever since then I try to say or do at least one nice or good thing a day. Be it giving up my seat on the bus for a lady, or paying someone a compliment. It’s the small things in the world that add up eventually and make a difference I believe.

The next day we stopped off on the way at one of the last standing Roman aqueducts that are over 2000 years old, and then headed off to gorgeous and potentially dangerous Barcelona. Gorgeous because of all the jaw dropping Gaudi Architecture. Dangerous, due to the threat of light fingered pickpocketers. We were made to repeatedly promise (like a protective mom would) not travel alone at night. Heck, I lost count of how many times we were reminded to be careful actually.

When we finally arrived at our destination, we were as jumpy and paranoid as mice on speed, ready to pounce on anyone who looked at us funny let alone brushed up against us. Now, the hostel was extremely well laid out with all modern amenities one could want. The most important being a bar on the terrace that served sangria. Sangria is a highly refreshing wine and fruit mix that was perfect for the scorcher of a day we arrived to in Spain.
As the bone bleaching Spain sun began to sink behind the skyline, we made our way to a traditional Spanish dinner, with the main course being paella with a lot more sangria! Unfortunately, for me I can’t stand paella, and fought hard through the waves of nausea to breathe through my mouth (I’ve already told you about not being able to recognise my food in the Paris blog). A bit tipsy after knocking back my sangria, and mostly from not having a proper meal, we headed to the nights entertainment to watch a flamenco show. The staccato of passionate Spanish heels cut through the night in time to a live band and was as spectacular as id imagined it to be. Surprisingly, caracas weren’t used as id always expected. Maybe they don’t do that anymore, or it’s a used only for certain Spanish dances?

After the brief but action packed show we made our way over to a local bar in La Ramblas (The party area in downtown), however the mood really wasn’t right, mostly due to the wrong sort of music being played. So a group of women wanted to head back to the hostel. With me also not feeling the vibe, I decided I would shepherd these helpless women to the safety of the hostel. So a splinter group of us headed off to brave the dark Barcelona streets. As we trudged up the hill to the hostel, one of the girls in our group began to lag behind. Me being one to never to leave a man/woman behind circled back around and investigated what the fuss was all about.

It seemed Natasha like most typical women had sacrificed the looks of her shoes over comfortability. Nothing with women and their fashion choices surprised me anymore. Now she was paying dearly for it, as I pictured shady characters in the shadows creeping in closer for an easy kill. As I shook my head, I knew I was going to have to take drastic measures if the entire group of women were going to survive the night.

Ever the gentleman, and swallowing my pride, two words sprung from my mouth – “Piggy-back?” Natasha protested quite loudly, but I sure as hell wasn’t leaving someone behind to picked off like a sick gazelle. So yet once more, and more commandingly I demanded that she jump on my back so we could promptly rejoin the safety of the pack. This fortunately worked (for both of us), because I wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of giving her a swift karate chop and carting her limp body up the hill. After all, it would have been quite unbecoming really, and I wouldn’t have cut a very dashing figure with a Natasha hanging off me like a limp rag doll I mused.

So there I was, with a giggling almost hysterical girl on my back, wondering how I got myself into these sorts of situations, as I double timed it up the hardest part of the trek. Locals everywhere stood stunned, wide eyed and mouths agape; not knowing, whether to take photos of the spectacle, laugh or call the local constabulary. Our sudden and unexpected manoeuvre, took even the bravest of pick pocketers by surprise. For, as they beheld this strange behaviour, even they didn’t know whether they were coming or going let alone attempt to pick pocket us.

Now I’m sure mothers everywhere immediately locked up their daughters in haste just in case the cheeky darkie were to come back for their daughters. Spanish parents would forever tell bedtime tales of a mysterious cheeky darkie who would steal away daughters into the night if they ever caught being naughty.

And that’s the story of how I saved our merry group of women from pick pocketers. However, that’s not where the night ended. One of our group Mary, wowed by my cat like reflexes, and ability to save women in distress thought it would be apt to find a better place to go clubbing. She’d heard that the clubs at the Olympic park near the beach were the place to go. Why not I said? So off we shot off into the night to paint the town red.

We ended up at what looked like the most happening place at the beach – Shoko. Though immediately I felt quite underdressed, as I bowled on up in shorts and jandals, and everyone else lined up at the bar had Gucci suits and enough bling to dazzle a blind man. Utilizing my usual charm (well mostly Marys, as my charm doesn’t seem to work on men that well), Mary and I made our way past the menacing bouncer to behold a party that was really going off. Before you knew it we were on the dance floor and, in an ever shorter time we were on the tables showing the Spaniards how people really party.

This had nothing to do with the extremely strong drinks the Spanish pour mind you – as opposed to NZ and Australia where they measure out the drinks with surgical precision, in Spain bartenders tend to follow a bucket approach. Well after what seemed like 10 minutes, I looked at my watch to see that it was almost 4 in the morning! We’d come, we’d saw, and we’d conquered, so we concurred that we should make a dignified exit before the locals were completely embarrassed by our amazing ninja like dancing skills.

Now Barcelona was home to Ragnar and Lolita, the longest standing family friends I can remember. My first memory of eating olives, pineapple and walnuts were when Ragnar gave us little scrambling monkeys those treats when we were just little tykes. Memories of being accosted by rambunctious Lolita the moment we would walk into their place, being hugged to pieces and having my cheeks pinched like there was no tomorrow all rushed back as soon as I was to see them.

After a small lie in, or morning siesta as I like to call it, I caught up with Ragnar and Lolita at midday to be taken back to the Olympic park (where only a handful of hours ago Mary and I had burned up the dance floor). It was another scorcher of a day and we made our way over to a traditional restaurant and the feast of my life and Lolita ordered meal after meal of Spanish speciality dish. We chatted about the good old days and how each family was doing. After a meal fit for a king I hugged them both good bye and waddled back to my hostel to catch up with Ryan and see how his day had gone.

Now Ryan had spent most of his day at the beach, making the most of ozone filtered sunlight, but had unfortunately not taken the necessary precautions – like sunblock. Sure the sun doesn’t burn after 15 minutes like it does in New Zealand, but even in Spain it will after 15 hours. My first response when I first saw Ryan was – “Good God man! What happened to your face!” only to be met with Ryan signature resigned head shake. Oh well, I suppose a little bit of pain now, and when he got back to New Zealand all the women would be all over him and his Spanish tan like monkeys after a runaway banana cart.

As the sun set, we headed off to the Hard rock café for a normal western style meal as all the foreign food was beginning to pale in comparison to a simple good steak and fries. Lets say we ate pretty well as the photos show, with Janelle getting quite a surprise when her chocolate brownie turned up. The next day we were to pack up and see what all the fuss was with the French Riviera

We arrived in amazing Switzerland to be greeted by breathtaking ranges meandering out over the horizon, with natural beauty to rival New Zealand landscapes. We were also greeted by Switzerland pricings… After getting accustomed to things being reasonably priced in Paris and Germany, Switzerland prices were a real wake up call. The rumours hadn’t been exaggerated. Boy, my bank account was going to feel it that’s for sure.

Though, soon the cost of living was to take a back seat to rumblings and rumours that there was to be an opportunity to go sky diving from a helicopter over the Swiss Alps. They didn’t have to ask twice as I signed up for this death defying activity in the blink of an eye. Here was my opportunity to tick off two items from my bucket list! Go for a ride in a helicopter and perform a sky dive. Ryan my trusty sidekick as always, signed up too (or signed his death warrant, we would soon find out). This was going to be our biggest adventure yet!

We had an amazing dinner the evening we arrived, and the night before our upcoming baptism of fire. Our last meal perhaps? Maybe that’s why it tasted like heaven on earth, who knows. We were served meals made by the expert Top Deck catering team. A mouth-watering chicken in a mushroom sauce topped off with traditional diced Swiss potatoes, which really blew all our minds. I had thirds. Heck the way I saw it; if I was going to make a crater tomorrow, I might as well do so with a full tummy.

Early next morning, the Gods smiled on us as we were greeted with spectacular weather, foggyish but still clear enough that we would be able to see the ground hurtling towards us at terminal velocity. For those who don’t know, terminal velocity is the maximum speed the human body can travel through the air before air friction prevents it travelling any further. It was going to be a good day to die I contemplated.

Suited up and ready to fly, we awaited for our mighty chariot to fly us into the heavens and to destiny! The familiar buzzing sound of a helicopter coming in to land suddenly caught our attention. Steffan (the owner of Skydive XDream) wandered up to us and mentioned that their dinner was arriving. Honestly, the first thing that popped into my mind was, “hold on, these Swiss are pretty extreme to be flying in their curries for dinner” – I don’t know why, but it did, more due to the fact that we had to wake up at 5ish for the jump, and my usually razor sharp mind was as blunt and effective as a plastic butter knife on a concrete wall.

All of a sudden a flying reindeer flew into sight…  No I was not high on the aviation fumes (well I’m mostly sure I wasn’t), and I was pretty sure it wasn’t Christmas time? If it was, I was probably better off with the parachute not opening, rather than face my moms’ wrath at not coming home for Christmas. No one else seemed surprised, as the reindeer came in for a landing, still fresh with grass still hanging out of its mouth. Theres fresh, and theres Swiss fresh I deliberated. There was no more time to consider whether children around the world were going to miss out on presents this Christmas, as we were jostled to our helicopter with military efficiency and German accented words of encouragement of “GO! GO! GO!!!” One could almost hear air raid sirens screeching out in ones head as we dove into the open doors of our helicopter.

Admittedly, I hadn’t really been nervous till the second I actually jumped into the helicopter. That immediately changed as soon as the engine sprang into life like, and shrieked like a berserk banshee out for blood. I could feel the adrenalin pour into my blood stream, my heart started pounding, and it felt like it would burst out of my chest at any moment. My breathing became shallower and sharper as the pilot whipped the banshee and spurred it on, causing it lurch into the air with a howl, in search of more terrified prey.

We careened between the sheer cliff walls of the valley, darting from crevice to crevice. All the while, I expected to meet our doom against the unforgiving cold rock face of the valley instead of the warm welcoming grounds of mother earth at the end of our fall. Luckily for us, the talented pilot and his trusty banshee were too good for the crushing death embrace of the valley and we shot out from the valley and its life ending cloud cover like a cork ascending to freedom. The views to behold were utterly astounding, with the Swiss Alps at spread all around us.
However, there wasn’t much time to let it all soak in as the helicopter door swung open and air rushed in, threatening to suck us out into oblivion. Not that it needed any help as we made our own way to the railing. Before I could get my bearings; the horizon suddenly swam past my peripheral vision, the crescendo of rushing air meeting my ears and face. We were free falling, soaring and diving like splendid eagles (or so id like to think). In reality, I looked more like a Saint Bernard that had just chased a cat into a wind tunnel. Mostly due to the fact that I was grinning from ear to ear and had air rushing into my mouth like the intake of a 747s engine. Id most likely have to photoshop that out in the videos later.

After what seemed like seconds, our death defying dive suddenly came to a halt as there was a loud crack like a whip, and our parachute clawed out at the all encompassing air that was to slow our fall. Then there was silence, as the only sound was the air gently breezing past us as we floated to the tarmac. As I looked up I saw Ryan had also successfully survived the drop and was making his way to friendly territory. There ended our first of many adrenalin fuelled adventures, to top of the rest of our day we made our way up to the top of Europe, or Jungfrau, which after our recent flight didn’t really seem so high anymore.

There we were the start of our full on tour around Europe! 13 countries in 28 days and we were raring to go as we waited at the reception of the hostel. You could sense the excitement building up, and it was almost like an explosion of energy as we were given the green light to board the bus. As the bus made its way to the ferry at Dover for us to head over to wonderful gay Pari, we soon noted that Kiwis outnumber the Aussies. Excellent, it looked like the shoe would be on the other foot this time, as usually it’s the other way round. Additionally there were more women than men, 33 vs. 11. Could this mean that women tend to be travellers more than men? An interesting topic to discuss some other time perhaps.

Jumping on the ferry to Calais, it felt like it was our first day at primary school again. We sheepishly introduced ourselves to other people on the tour, and before you knew it people were chatting and laughing away at funny jokes and anecdotes. We met some interesting characters like Shane who was from the Australian Navy, and epitomized the typical cliché of an Australian, With his thick back country accent and stories that seemed to start with “This one time in the Navy” always had the group in fits of laughter and was quite the lively character. As per his navy training, this lively fellow had packed for almost any scenario imaginable, and was massively overweight when he flew into London to start. We remarked that all he was lacking was his own nuclear power station – which I am sure he had on back order anyway. I first noticed him as his loud aussi voice cut through all the other voices on the bus. He was busy explaining to a poor traveller (who he had cornered in the window seat of the bus) that he had been dared by his navy colleagues to get a picture taken of himself at the Eiffel Tower wearing only a mankini. Now for those who don’t know what a manikini is can look here , but I warn you may end up scratching your eyes out shortly after seeing what it is. There was Amanda, who was the most random person id ever met, and could go off on more random tangents than myself. Some of the topic she’d discuss would have even me scratching my head going “What? The sheer mechanics of that are mind boggling”. This was going to be a very eventful trip I mused, very eventful indeed.

Now due to yet another strike (we must have brought the one from Britain over with us) the ferry was delayed by more than an hour. Not that we complained, we just utilised the extra time in spacious ferry chairs to get to know everyone better. Eventually we had to move on, and we found ourselves on our way to Paris. Once there we were immediately led to our first French dinner. It was here that I was to finally get to try escargot and frog legs. To be honest eating the escargot was more straightforward than eating frog legs. Unfortunately I’m the sort of person who likes meat, but doesn’t like to recognise where his meal came from. With the frog legs, you knew exactly where the meal was coming from. Usually its worse for me when the meal has its eyes intact and it sits there staring deploringly back at you, going “whhhhhy, why are you eating me? What did I do to you?” I’m pretty sure that’s why I don’t like seafood, with fish and their damning eyes, cutting through me to my quivering soul.

In fact, to be honest the frog legs looked like a lot like minature human baby legs! It took an immense effort to get over this fact. I did eat the frog lets in the end, which tasted a bit like fishy chicken. Though, an interesting observation that almost everything that’s not red meat seems to taste like chicken. Strange that… I wonder if theres something to the scene in the Matrix where one of the villains discusses how the machines couldn’t figure out what some foods tasted like, so they made everything taste a bit like chicken. So the more important question here really being… Are we in the matrix? but lets leave that rant some other time methinks.
Now our accommodation Paris was pretty good, except for the fact that when you had a shower, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop a huge pool being created on the bathroom floor. I was the first to identify/cause this. Regardless, Brent didn’t believe a word I said about not meaning to cause the flooding. However, after his attempt at having a shower had the exact same disastrous outcome, even the unbeliever Brent had to admit defeat. He retracted his initial statements that I had been lying, and confirmed to the others that I indeed hadn’t had a shower on the bathroom floor as he had previously stated!

After showers and dinner a group of us scurried off to the Eiffel Tower, and boy was it spectacular! With the tower lighting up like a Christmas tree every hour on the hour. If I didn’t know better, Id say it was taking pictures of everyone, like a frenzied paparazzi entourage on speed. Anyway, luckily for us there weren’t very long lines at the Eiffel Tower at 10 at night. Once at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and while staring out at the beautiful Paris skyline, we spotted the Champs de Lyses. So, we bravely decided it was near enough to do a quick trek to. As with most things spotted while high up in the air, objects seem further than they actually appear, especially when navigating the back roads of Paris at night. While on our journey to our objective, the Gods decided that a good down pour was called for. Lets just say, memories of London came flooding back, literally and metaphorically speaking. However, after much backtracking and finger pointing we arrived, wet yet surprisingly upbeat at our destination. Several quick photos were taken to ensure that our cameras didn’t get too wet. Now came the conundrum of how to get home? The hotel was miles away, so it was decided to take a Parisian taxi.

For some reason, while there seemed to be hundreds (no exaggeration) of taxis, not a single one appeared free. It was as if the whole of Paris had decided to take a taxi for a trip around Paris! After much gnashing of teeth we did eventually find a taxi, which we provided for the first group. Almost immediately we started regretting having given up what was surely to be our only salvation to the first group. Just before a full blown mutiny erupted within our group a taxi came to our rescue. We promptly dove into the taxi before he could change his mind, and decline us drowned rats. Soon, we were off like a rocket careening to the stars… Literally. Our driver had one hand on his phone, another on the steering wheel, and I’m not quite sure how he was changing gears. As we shot onto the highway the worst of the rain decided to kick in. The driver must have taken this as a sign from God, for the driver decided to put his foot down. In seconds we were doing 140km/hr in an 80 km/hr zone. Initially this was all good fun, till Brent decided to mention that one of the tunnels we’d past looked like the one Diana was killed in. All of a sudden I looked for any handhold available, as there didn’t seem to be any seatbelts around. One can only conclude that, to save precious weight for speed, the driver had removed these unnecessary items. Finally, and safely we screeched to a halt outside our hotel (ahead of the 1st taxi I must add). Hands trembling, and knees wobbling we handed over the fare with a huge tip. No one could decide whether it was for the free rollercoaster ride, or the fact that we were so glad to have survived and money didn’t really matter anymore, Ill leave that up to you to decide.
Breakfast in the morning was quite good indeed – with croissants and bacon. Being the hunter gatherer that I am, I made sure to accidentally drop a couple of bacon filled croissants into my bag as a snack for later. The shocked stares of the French patrons or the fact that Ryan hid his face made no difference as I could also see several of the other girls bravely following suit.

That day we had a free day, to travel around and the only thing we had to rush back for was a bike tour around Paris at 3. So Ryan, Amanda, Amy and I decided to do a mission around the city, with Notradam at the top of our list. While wandering along the river Seine, Amanda proposed that we have a crème brulee along the way. Not being one to pass up any culinary delight, especially if it involved sweet things, I tagged along. So now for those who don’t know this, in Paris, there are different prices depending on where you sit at a restaurant. Initially we sat outside (which is meant to be more expensive). Amanda had already utilised the facilities inside so as we pulled up anchor and decided to move to the inside of the restaurant (which was cheaper), with Amanda leading the way. As we walked in, we weren’t sure if the inside was going to be cheaper as the inside was extremely plush and regal. Additionally, we knew something was amiss when another posh waiter approached us and asked us what we would like to eat. Hmm, we’d already ordered, so why was this other waiter approaching us? As I attempted to explain in my very basic French, more French reinforcements decided to turn up including the manager. Finally seeing that my French wasn’t going to cut the mustard and explain the situation we were in. We decided to take the entire noisy group outside to the other waiter who had served us. As we stepped outside and our original and extremely irate waiter stormed up to us, it suddenly dawned on us that Amanda had utilised the wrong restaurants toilet, and had led us astray. We now had a lot of grumpy French men and women on our hands. We hastily beat a retreat into the correct restaurant, before a riot broke out and they lynched us all. Only to be faced with a chilly reception from our waiter, who quite openly voiced his irritation in English under his breath, but making sure we heard. None the less the crème brulees were great, and I had a delicious champagne and raspberry drink that complimented the desert perfectly.

The tour around Notradam was amazing; especially with a sudden cloud burst allowing us to see the gargoyles in action firsthand. I was extremely soaked, but ecstatic. Luckily the rain was reasonably warm and didn’t chill one to the bone, so I didn’t mind too much. The downside to the rain was now we were running late for the tour. We ran to the first Metro we could find, Amanda efficiently shot through the ticketing process, so did I, but Ryan had to be different. Nothing Ryan tried would work. He had no coins on him, and the only ticket machine in the station seemed to have taken a dislike to his credit card. The precious minutes slowly ticket away, and it looked more and more certain that we were not going to make it to the tour on time. Powerless to help him from behind the barrier I had already crossed, several well flung credit cards of mine were to no avail (every time Ryan would walk to me for some proposed solution he would lose his place in the line – so throwing him my solutions were the only option left to me). Finally, an American group (you can hear them coming a block away) came trundling down, and we yelled out to them for change for a fiver. Luckily they did have change, though they took Ryans five Euro note, handed over 2 Euro and began walking away. I don’t know about you but that math didn’t stack up with us. So, yet again Ryan lost his place in the line, as he bolted after the Americans demanding the rest of his change.

Triumphant, Ryan finally paid for his ticket and he made it through the turnstile without another moment to spare. We ended up having to sprint the distance from the train stop to the start point of the bike tour, but we made it even though we were 10 minutes late. Out of breath, we successfully joined the ranks.
So there I was, zigzagging all over the place, attempting not to kill fellow cyclists, pedestrians or motorists since I haven’t cycled in over a decade, and I’m sure the setup of my cycle didn’t help either. I fondly starting calling my new cycling technique the “sidewinder”, Brent nodded approvingly of this nickname, while dodging yet another swift and deadly swerve from my end. Overall, the bike trip around Paris was a very different and interesting way of seeing Paris, so much so even the rain couldn’t ruin it.

A great way to finish up Paris as the sun set over the horizon and lit up the Eiffel Tower in hues of red and orange. The next day we were to head off to my biggest adventure yet. Switzerland.

So before leaving for London I checked the weather forecast, which confirmed that it was going to be nice and sunny. Hmm, I thought, maybe all the rumours of the lack of sunlight were all lies, and maybe I was bringing in the great weather from Germany with me. I was to find out the rumours were true.

Unfortunately the plane had been delayed, and had to circle around London till a place could be found in the long line of aircraft jostling for a spot. After (what I am sure is to be true) the pilot finally agreed to sell his soul to save his passengers, we finally landed at the airport to be greeted by grey overcast skies. Hmm, strange I thought, just a couple of hours earlier the weather report said sunny?

We were soon to meet Dan, who was Ryans friend. His mission as point man would be train up us greenhorns as quickly as possibly for the bloody battles to come. Ryan and I wide eyed and skittish were led by this seasoned veterans into the belly of the beast that is Londons public transport.

I stared at and attempted to decipher the underground map, which at first glance looked like someone had tried to connect the dots with a shotgun blast of multicoloured spaghetti. As my engineering logic started making sense of the labyrinth, Dan explained to us newbies that in London the weather forecast classified 5 mins of sunlight as being a sunny day. Fair enough I responded, the rest of our days in London were to be sunny as per this classification.

We finally made it through the hour long gauntlet between Heathrow and our Hostel at Kings Cross. Smelling of cordite and wearing our battle scars like medals, we strutted to the nearest pub to be served warm beer? Apparently, the brits drink beer at room temperature! After refuelling we made our way to Madam Tussards, where we got up to all sorts of high jinks and had our photos taken with the likes of Sean Connery and Jim Carrey. Even asked directions from ol Adolph.

After Madame Tussards, we caught up with a number of old friends, a couple of friends of Ryans and my good friend Carnie, or Amanda if you’re being formal. It was decided to go to Brick lane for dinner. Now for those who aren’t aware (as we were previously) Brick lane is a small street with a number Indian restaurants. These restaurants get customers by literally lynching passing clientele. We were repeatedly approached by restaurant sales people who would attempt to lure us with the best deal, be it a free bottle of wine and 20% off everything on the menu, to 3 courses for 10 pounds. While quite intriguing initially, this got quite frustrating as Carnie and I were dying for food, literally wasting away and I could see her wasting away to nothingness and me shortly behind her. Finally Dans pokerface and bargaining skill got us 2 free beers or glasses of wine, and 3 courses for 10 pounds. At this point I didn’t care, I would eaten a stray cat if there was one walking by. Come to think of it there weren’t many cats around and the chicken didn’t really taste quite right… Ill try not to dwell on it too much. However, it was still a great night, and this group of self proclaimed “Australians” left quite happy with themselves.

Over the next day we did the typical tourist things and visited Buckingham palace, the tower of London and London eye. By this time Dans training had paid off as we were able to successfully able to navigate the trenches of London combining travel by bus and train even with a train strike on. We were now travel ninjas without compare. Dan would have been proud of us. Now onto our accommodation arrangements, which were quite interesting. We were packed into a room of 8 bunk beds, which was also fine, however for some reason there seemed to be a problem with the showers, where the lights kept failing and meant that one ended up having a shower and needing to get changed in the dark. Additionally the shower required you to press a button every 10 seconds to keep the water going, and was angled so that it sprayed over your clothes that were hung up on the door. The overall effect this had was that on one occasion I walked around the whole of London with my shirt inside out and pant legs soaked. To add insult to injury, Ryan didn’t pick up that I had my shirt on inside out and it was only in the late afternoon as I looked at my jersey that noticed it looked different somehow. However being the resourceful scavenger that I am, and getting quite frustrated with the shower facilities, I did a shufi and tracked down a lone shower hidden away, with working lighting which didn’t require you to press a button and didn’t wash your clean clothes for you. For some reason I spread the word about this shower as everyone else in our room was frustrated with the same issues, but no one seemed to be able to find it. I think its more to do with my bad directional skills than it being made up in my head.

For our last day we were to catch up with long lost relatives that my mother had got in touch with after our recent Indian genealogy mission. We met up with the lovely Miss Pirkko, who gave me a quick run down of her side of the family and went though some old photos of a deceased relative. Amazingly enough I was able to pick our my mom and dad in several photos who Miss Pirkko was unable to identify in previous attempts. All this was quite exciting as she reminisced and I listened in awe about the old stories, much like I used to when my Granddad would when I was a child. Then we were off to visit more relatives who were 4th cousins I believe (I found it all quite confusing to be honest and a huge information overload, but wonderful none the less). On the way we drove through some of Surbitons wonderful parks which were filled with deer in the hundreds! While New Zealand does have many beautiful parks, we don’t tend to have deer just wandering along while happily.

Finally we met the energetic Miss Elise and her lovely family, where we were treated to wonderful hospitality and more amazing tales of relatives. Also I got lured into accepting Miss Elise as a facebook friend, later on that night after arriving back at our hostel, was treated to over 30 friend recommendations of all the relatives!! Lets just say I didn’t have the time to sort through them all. Something for when I get back to New Zealand perhaps?

Apologies peoples for not updating the blog more frequently. The down side to packing as much as possible into our days means that sleep is second priority and blog the third priority. So while I sit at the foot of the amazing Swiss Alps, drinking a beer, looking at a waterfall plunging over one of the sheer cliffs of the town of Lauterbrunnen while updating my blog. (Yes I seem to be able to multitask!). That and a text message from my mom hinting at when my next blog would be out is an incentive. One mom is enough, I dont need Ryans mom hinting next too!

Well to start off our latest (belated) tale, back in Beijing, my suave and cheeky debonair-ish behaviour had obviously gotten us upgraded to business class from Beijing to Frankfurt. There might have been mention of the flight being overbooked, but im sure that was just a cover for the swooning lady at the counter. Ryan nodded knowingly, as he usually does when I make such obviously accurate statements.

So, there we were, snuggled into our huge business class seats, all the while trying not to show our obvious excitement and playing with an many buttons as possible as the seats were an engineers heaven. Suddenly, our monkey like attempts at getting the massager on the chair working were interrupted as a hostess floated into our view with a big smile on her face to ask us if we wanted champagne or juice. Already brimming over with confidence after my last success at the counter, I thought I would practice my German, so the words “Champagne Bitte” and Danke rolled off my tongue much to Ryans amazement. Unfortunately she called my bluff as she broke out into a cascade of German while serving our drinks. My hands shot up in immediate surrender, and I sheepishly responded with “um, my German isn’t THAT good” to which the hostess responded with a cheeky smile and jostled on down the aisle to serve other more wise travellers. All the while Ryan was trying his best to hold back the waves of laughter that were threatening to overtake him. Oh well, one cant win them all can you?

Now, as we flew in to Frankfurt it was surprising to see scattered little towns everywhere. Ah yes, Germany, it’s a beautiful country with a lot of green and trees and forests, however as Kathrin informed us its mostly planted forest similar to the forests outside Taupo or Rotorua which are grown only to be cut down when mature enough, still they did look quite beautiful indeed. After landing and picking up our baggage, we made our way to the train station which handily enough was just in the basement of the airport. With 10 seconds to spare we just made it onto the train to Munich as the doors swished shut. As expected Germans are very precise, like a finely tuned German timepiece, the train left on the dot – not a second later, not a second earlier.

We settled into our plush seats as the train rocketed to measly 280 km/hr. Feeling quite chuffed at making the train just in the nick of time, we ordered our first German beers of the trip, which the lady promptly (German efficiency at its finest) brought. We gazed out the windows as we shot past slower Ferraris and Porches on the autobahn. Our day dreaming suddenly interrupted by the nice lady who had served us our beer to check tickets. After I handed over our ticket, her polite smile quickly evaporated, her curt response being that we had inappropriately placed ourselves in the 1^st class section, and she in no uncertain terms wanted us out of there. Now honestly, this incident was more due to the fact that we were in such a hurry to jump on the train, rather than business class having gone to our heads. We quickly exited stage right, while ensuring as much as possible to not make any eye contact with the other people who had paid extra for their 1^st class tickets. We arrived in Munich without any more “incidents” and further damage to international relations, checked into our hostel and prepared for our tour of the castles for the next day.

Now the castles were visited were amazing, the most splendid being the Neuschwanstein Castle with breathtaking views, and mind-boggling workmanship. While it stands uncompleted as the king who ordered it built was bankrupted and passed away well before it was ever finished, it is the most visited and most photographed castle in the world. Apparently Walt Disney imitated the design for the magic kingdom. I can see why, and the photos don’t do it justice.

The next day we were booked to do Munich and its beers, unfortunately there had been a change in the times, which would have thrown our careful travel plans into disarray. So while consoling a dejected and very chillaxed Ryan, we boarded a train to Frankfurt. A definition of chillaxed by the way – It’s a term Ryan has coined to consolidate and describe himself when he is chilling and relaxing. To put the record straight, all this is lies, and the real definition for this term is “Chellaxed” which is actually him being cranky as hell and ready to axe someone… This someone I fear being me, as after all I am the closest person around him at anyone time. This is evidenced as shown in the picture below.

Once in Frankfurt we caught up with the lovely Kathrin, who treated us to amazing German hospitality, second to none, except for Sebastian who visited us and brought us a typical German breakfast (of amazing rolls and meats), which meant he had to drive 2 hours each way just to see us. Again amazing hospitality second to none! Not to mention Sebastian showed me his 6 series BMW, which had to be the most plush and fancy car I’ve ever been in. I can see why Elfride was so hesitant to give it up, and Sebastian so determined to get it back.

After Sebastians departure, Kathrin and her flatmate Eva showed us the sights around Frankfurt, with us even bumping into an African foreign dignitary with a full compliment of undercover police and escort went we visited Frankfurts tallest building. After an action packed day, seeing all the sights we rushed home to do get ready for the second main even. Dinner at a proper German restaurant, it was here that I was to meet the German equivalent of myself – Miss Sandra.

The evening started off as usual as one would expect, sitting around introducing ourselves to each other. We’d ordered traditional German schnitzel with an amazing sauce the Germans called a green sauce. With this I picked a nice German reisling at the advice of Sandra. The meal was delicious, but Ryan maintains that his moms schnitzel is even better, not being one to argue, im determined to try this world-renowned schnitzel of Ryans moms. Well, in no time at all, Sandra and I were gibbering away like demented monkeys, or as Ryan called it “got along like two houses on fire”. By the end of the evening I had Sandra in tears. However, luckily for me the tears were from us laughing so hard, and the pain at the back of my head was from smiling so much, instead of from smacks to the back of the head. Overall a lovely evening overall and a great way to end our last night in Frankfurt.

Click to view slideshow.

In response to Ryans constant nagging (yes he nags) to update the blog – as apparently it’s the only communications his parent will get from him, and he says I don’t really want to upset his mum. Far be it for me to upset Ryans mom so here we go:

The flight to China was uneventful to say the least, the only bit of excitement coming from when the pilot decided to veer towards Shanghai, at one point almost back peddling on northerly progress we had made. This action got Ryan and I gibbering away like crazed monkeys, as we tried to figure out what was going on. Our conspiracy theories swung from somehow we might have gotten on the wrong plane, to my favourite – that the pilot had had one too many drinks and had totally lost all sense of direction. Our fears were unfounded as partway through our 20^th theory the pilot did a swift 90 degree turn to the right and a made a bee line towards Beijing again. We finally settled on one of Ryans theories that we were avoiding Korean airspace. Fair enough I said..

As the plane came in to land, I was quite taken aback by the smog, I had heard it was bad, but one cannot really quantify how bad it is until one actually sees it. Visibility was almost non existent, and I didn’t envy the pilot trying to land in the pea soup we had just entered.

After landing and making it through immigration with no more mishaps like “Sepulchre Saturday” or as I now call it “the wine incident”, we were keen on not getting scammed while making our egress from the airport. So we settled on taking a taxi. Though, mostly it was the fact that we weren’t brave enough to deal with the public transport in a new country. Luckily the cost of the 45 min trip on the highway ended up only costing us 80 Yuan, or about $20. Heck I pay that to travel 6 kms from home to work in Auckland! So with our bloated egos and already feeling like seasoned travellers, we crystallised our plan of attack.

Then we were off! Like grey hounds at a race track, the Forbidden City in our sights (on the map anyway and which appeared to be around the corner from us), that’s where my infallible directional skills came into play – As we immediately found ourselves well and truly lost. Amazingly, my trusty companion Ryan, patient as always nodded reassuringly as yet again I assured him I knew we were and that the forbidden place was surely just around the corner. Admittedly I have a sneaking suspicion he was way more terrified than me, and was just glad that I had taken the lead, and therefore I couldn’t blame him for our predicament. Not to worry, I blamed him anyway, as I have on countless occasions over the years I have known him – against all logic and like the finale of many an episode of Laurel and Hardy.

Lets just say we finally found the Forbidden Palace, in the scorching 25+ degrees it must have been, and boy was it packed – It was like every Chinaman was at the Palace that afternoon. The compound was none the less amazing, and just when you thought “wow that’s the the biggest palace building so far”, you walked into the next compound to behold an even bigger one! All things must come to an end, and before we knew it we were at the end of the palace compound and in the historically significant Tiananmen Square. After this we decided to call it quits and head back to the hostel after getting some authentic lunch.

Ok the beer was cheap, the equivalent of $1.50 for a 600 ml bottle of beer. However methinks standing out like a gyrating Barry White in a KKK meeting, meant that we got the locals “Special” rates. On the way to the hostel, we walked into a local restaurant, asked for a menu and got a menu in English, only to find the costs of everything at exorbitant rates. Having just picked up a bottle of coke for 5 Yuan from one of the many hawkers in the Forbidden City, suddenly being asked for 25 Yuan for a bottle of Sprite at a local back alley restaurant was one trick we weren’t falling for. We promptly left the restaurant, and decided to play it safe and eat at the hostels restaurant.

But it was not meant to be, as we were soon to find out, the restaurant stopped lunch at bang on 2 p.m, not a second later, dejected, we stocked up on all the chips packets we could get our hands on from the lobby counter. Our bad luck with Chinese food continued onto the evening when after returning from a Chinese acrobatic show in the evening we were turned out by the same hostel restaurant and told that Chinese dinner closed at 9, however western dinner closed at 12 and we were welcome to that. Hungry, tired, and cranky we made our way to the nearest atm down the road (low on cash after the acrobatic show) and decided that we should just give in and eat at KFC which was situated right next to the atm. As we wolfed down our first proper meal since breakfast, we made a vow that no one would hear of this and by no one, I mean my mom, who would have strangled me if she found out I was eating western food in China. Things really were looking like we would never get to eat any Chinese food, but our luck was about to change… mainly due to a seasoned Austrian who would come to our rescue the next day.

Early the next morning we were to have our first proper introduction to Herbert the plucky Austrian; who was shortly about to become my hero. As we scrambled onto the bus to the great wall of china, Herbert had somehow wangled a McDonalds breakfast meal, hand delivered to him by the tour guide. As the sprightly and chirpy lass handed over vital life giving sustenance to Herbert, it took all my remaining energy not stare wide eyed at the bag full of food, and slowly wiped away the torrent of saliva running down my quivering chin. Now, either Herbert took pity on this crazy eyed salivating monkey, or he really didn’t like egg mcmuffins (I don’t either, but was too hungry to care), but for whatever reason, he passed me the marvellous mcmuffin meal. Thereby saving me from a fate worse than death itself. At this point I would have given him my first born, that’s how ecstatically delirious with happiness I was as I bulldozed the mcmuffin down my gullet.

This was enough to seal the deal, and Herbert had just become my new best friend. So there we were at the Great Wall of China as it snaked its way into the distance. Trudging along quiet happily when out of nowhere two talkative old ladies popped up, and decided that they would join us for the walk. Too excited to really think about what was going on we let them tag along. As time wore on and Ryan gibbered away to the little old ladies, I suddenly noticed that these two ladies were carrying two big bags, immediately it dawned on me, that they were out to fleece us and demand we buy their wares. I quickly whispered out of the side of my mouth that we needed to double time it and get out of dodge. Taking a deep breath, we both put the pedal to the metal, attempted to scamper away from our new companions only to notice out of the corner of my eye that they were more than able to keep up with us. These old ladies put us young chaps to shame as they hopped from one crumbling ledge to another like goats on speed barely out of breath, while Ryan and I wheezed like asthmatics in a dust storm.

Luckily we were able to lose them after about 30 minutes of vigorous scrambling, but their calls of “come back and buy some souvenirs on your way back” flung at us as we flew over the next stony ridge in the wall. Having successful shaken our tails, AND having made sure we were reasonably far away from any other tourists, I promptly threw up over the wall, while Ryan attempted to stifle his laugher. The belly full of water and smell of urine wafting through the hot arid breeze had proven too much for my finely tuned body to handle, and I immediately evacuated my stomach of any excess baggage.

Having successfully returned to the bus and not evacuated any more excess baggage, one of our party was missing. After waiting for over half an hour past our deadline, we had to leave minus one. Several kilometres down the road the hapless passenger who dared to overstay her welcome decided incorrectly that the best course of action was to call the tour group guide. Lets just say the smaller and more smiley they are the more vicious they can be when provoked. As everyone in the bus cowered in fear, a torrent of Chinese verbal abuse shot from her mouth and down the receiver. You could have heard a pin drop in the bus in between paragraphs of abuse, as she took a quick breath only to dive right back into another torrent. All the while a Chinese American lady gave us a running commentary of what was being said. From now on, the words “Get Out” will always hold a very dear and fond and terrifying part in all three of our hearts.

Still being indebted to Herbert for rescuing me from a food fate worse than death, we convinced him to have dinner with us as long as it was Chinese. He knew of a good place down the road, and our little party we took off with him leading us to what we hoped would be a culinary experience to make up for all the junk we had eaten in the past couple of days. We were not to be disappointed as we ate donkey (which was amazing to be honest), and all sorts of things I can even name. Ryan was foolishly brave enough to order something that “looked” nice without knowing what it was… It turned up, and I couldn’t pick what it was, let alone what animal it was from! My only guess was that it was intestine at best guess, worst case I don’t even want to know. Not that it stopped Herbert as he finished Ryans dish off with a big smile on his face.

So that’s how we spent our last night in China, with an Austrian showing us the most amazing place to eat proper Chinese food, thereby saving myself for the severe beating my mother would have inflicted on me for not having done so.

Hope to see you peeps then!

Gladwin

We're Oscar Mike in 22 days and counting!

So here we go…

The boys are let loose on the world and escape New Zealand, leaving behind good ol moms cooking and daring to survive on strange and exotic delicacies.

First stop – Amazing Beijing, also known as Peking, and home to the 2008 Olympics. The weather should be a nice toasty 20ish degrees max, so my plan to escape the worst of N.Zs winter has worked. We’re here a couple of days, with one of our little excursions off to the timeless Great Wall of China. Tick another great wonder of the world crossed off my bucket list!

Ridiculous amounts of flying... Click for closer view

After surviving the most populous country in the world, we’re next off to our first of many European countries….

Germany. Famous hunting grounds of Kathrin, Sebastian and Jochen… We tour around Munich (31 August -2nd September) and Frankfurt (3rd September) and hopefully spot the terrible threesome in our travels.

Then its off to the UK, where who knows we might catch up with those Antipodean group consisting of the Carnie and her troupe. A few days here before off to our main tour – 13 countries in 28 days!!!

Day 1 – 2 London to Paris, France
Across the English Channel en-route to Paris. Tonight a “city lights” tour. Next day perhaps a bicycle tour then our Gourmet Paris Picnic beside the Eiffel Tower.

Day 3 – 4 Paris to Swiss Alps, Switzerland
To Lauterbrunnen, a tiny village set amidst the Swiss Alps. An optional adventure to the summit of the Jungfrau gives amazing views.

Day 5 Swiss Alps to Avignon, France
Through the wine region of the Rhone Valley to the walled city of Avignon.

Day 6 – 7 Avignon to Barcelona, Spain
To cosmopolitan Barcelona where our central accommodation is in the heart of the city. A city tour then free time to explore the next day.

Day 8 – 9 Barcelona to French Riviera, France
Onwards, to the home of the rich and famous. Time for some celebrity spotting, or a swim in the Mediterranean and a visit to a Monte Carlo casino.

Day 10 – 11 French Riviera to Florence, Italy
A short drive to the Leaning Tower of Pisa then to Florence with its Tuscan cuisine. Known as an outdoor museum, we take a guided tour with a local guide to see its treasures.

Day 12 – 13 Florence to Rome, Italy/Vatican City
First stop is the interesting hilltop city Orvieto. Rome awaits with a walking tour on arrival. The free time to explore all the sights and sounds of Rome the next day!

Day 14 – 15 Rome to Venice
A visit to the Vatican this morning and the chance to see the amazing Sistine Chapel and then it’s on to Venice. A walking tour takes in the major sights and a vaporetto and optional gondola ride are a great way to see Venice from the water.

Day 16 – 18 Venice to Pag Island
First stop is Slovenia, where we visit the famous Postojna Caves. Then to the island of Pag for 2 great days of relaxation, swimming, food and night life. Take an optional excursion to Zadar.

Day 19 Pag Island to Ljubljana, Slovenia
An eclectic mix of ancient and new makes Ljubljana one of our most popular stops.

Day 20 – 21 Ljublijana to Tyrol, Austria
Lake Bled is a spectacular en route to the Tyrol region. Activities abound – try tandem skydiving, paragliding, or mountain bike riding.

Day 22 – 23 Tyrol to Prague, Czech Republic
Time to reflect on a visit to the Nazi concentration camp at Mauthausen. Then to Prague where we take a walking tour to get acquained with the sights. The next day is free.

Day 24 – 25 Prague to Berlin, Germany
Our first stop is in Dresden before Berlin, the vibrant capital of Germany. The nightlife in this city is legendary.

Day 26 – 27 Berlin to Amsterdam, Netherlands
On to Amsterdam, famous for its canals, bicycles and liberal lifestyle. In the morning, a bicycle tour is a great introduction to Amsterdam which is followed by a walking tour. Tonight a farewell dinner followed by an optional canal cruise.

Day 28 Amsterdam to London
Belgium is great for beer and chocolate which can be sampled in Brugge on the way back to London.

After surviving Europe, its off to welcoming and glorious Singapore for night safaris and trips down the river in junks. Few days of that, and then its back off home to good old New Zealand and SLEEP.

Phew… So thats the run down. Hopefully I get to see a lot of old friends along the way, and get back in one piece (more or less). Theres no doubt however that it will be a trip of a life time, and ill be posting regular updates as, and when they happen.