This is THAILAND! Same Same, but Different!

Thailand is a backpackers mecca. It's name means: 'land of the free,' and it's nature is no different - a place where anything goes, and there is something for everyone. From the noisy, fast-paced city streets of Bangkok; to the jungle wilderness of Chiang Mai and the north; to the sun drenched, peaceful shores of Koh Phangan, that turn into world famous beach parties by night. Whatever your fancy - you'll likely find it in Thailand. Travellers can spend their days shopping in bustling and colourful markets of locally made treasures; riding elephants and playing with tigers; drinking mai tais on secluded beaches until sunset, and dancing to rhythmic beats until sunrise; touring ancient buddhist temples by tuktuk, and ending the day with a thai massage; or loosing themselves in sois drinking singha and whiling away the hours.

There isn't much the traveller really needs to bring to Thailand - but a few things are essential: an open mind, a calm disposition, and a sense of adventure! So far, Karlos and I are 10 days into our one month south-east asia adventure. And so far, we've tasted it all...

Bangkok!



Our first stop, as it is for most people - was Bangkok. Oriental City. A large, sprawling, coughing, spluttering, monstrosity of a city - full to bursting with cars, motorbikes, tuktuks, and people. So many people. All with somewhere to be in a hurry. And so much noise. The city never sleeps. It never stops. It is hot, humid, dirty, smelly, and chaotic. It can take you twenty minutes to cross a road if you don't bite the bullet and make the step. Thai's don't seem to believe in pedestrain crossings, indicating, or, in fact, road rules of any kind. 'Health and Safety' is clearly not a Thai concept - few of the cars have seatbelts, for example - but it is a friendly place, and you can't help but smile, and relax, amidst the chaos. It works.

Everyone wants to help you out, know where you're from, know where you're going, and, most importantly, take you for a ride in their tuktuk! The first time I visited Bangkok was 5 years ago, and it intimidated me. This time I was a lot more confident, fierce almost, and therefore found it a lot easier to get around. The Thai people are friendly alright, and keen for you to enjoy their country - but they also want your tourist dollar. It pays to carry a map with you, know where you want to go, and know how much you are willing to pay to get there. Bartering is expected. Part of the experience. And travelling by tuktuk is fun - exhilerating whizzing in and around and through traffic, with the wind in your hair - but the best option by far is to flag down a taxi, and insist they put the meter on. We found out, after a day of being in the city, that distances we were paying tuktuk drivers 120baht to drive us, were in actual fact only around 40baht according to the taxi meter. Live and learn! 120baht is only NZ$6 after all... ;-)



Our first night in Bangkok we wandered up the street to find a restaurant. We had only walked a few metres before we found one, decided "that'll do," and went in. A small, softly spoken Thai lady, with excellent English, gave us our menus and bought over cold drinks. The menu was vast... my method of opening the menu at random and picking the dish in the centre of the page was a winner - a delicious chicken and vegetable stirfry appeared for me. Karlos' meal came a little while after mine - clearly as mine was ready first! No silver service here! - and we ate our food, drank our beer, whilst watching the day turn into night outside. Stall holders stood on street corners, cooking delicious smelling meats, and passers-by would stop to purchse their dinner - eating it sitting at brightly coloured plastic furniture at the side of the road. Stray dogs wandered past, paused for a scratch before moving on. Pedestrians moved in a city waltz - sidestepping motorcycles that pulled out of side streets, leaping over holes in the pavements, and zigzagging across 4 laned roads in-between the traffic. We stayed in the restaurant long enough to watch the heavens open and a monsoon downpour wash the streets, lightening the air. We walked back to our hotel that night, chugging on bottles of beer, and darting from one awning to the next to avoid the rain. We fell asleep to the quiet hum of our room's fan, and the belching of the night sky as she thundered all night long.



We stayed in Bangkok for a couple of days - exploring the malls for cheap wares, and the temples for a feigned attempt at being cultured and interested in buddhism. First stop was the mall though - MBK, as apparantly is was the best place for a bargain - and we spent best part of a day getting lost in there. Very easy to do - literally! MBK has 7 floors and each floor is like a rabbit warren, you can turn a corner and instantly forget where you came from. We bartered with salesmen and women for the best prices on dress (for me) and shorts (for him) until we were bartering just for the fun of it I think, long after our desire to actually purchase anything had gone. Neither of us are social shoppers - we're the get in, get out QUICK kind - but the experience was certainly one to have. Even the food court was a fun experience - no McDonalds, Subway, or Dunkin Donuts - this is hardcore oriental food, only for the thick stomached. I selected something that resembled chicken, but tasted more like pork... but I won't think more of that... Actually, the most stomach turning part of our day at MBK... was Karlos' ecounter with the feeding fish. A tank of fish that, when you put your feet into their bowl, EAT your dead skin away. That's right! The Thai's actually charge you for this bizarre torture.



Day two involved a trip to the tailors before our temple visit. On the way home from MBK the previous day, in another monsoon downpour, we were succumbed into visiting a "varrry gooood" tailor by our entrepenurial tuktuk driver. Who, by the by, had a VERY distinctive bodily twitch and such a nervous disposition that we really weren't sure of his capability to actually get us home in one peice. Still, we got in anyway(!) and allowed him to take us to the tailor. What harm could it do - I knew him taking us there would mean he would get a petrol voucher, and we would get a cheaper tuktuk fare, so 'what the hell.' And, as it goes - it was actually worth the sidetrack. Karlos was really impressed with the quality of the fabric and designs, and he ended up purchasing 3 tailor made shirts, and 3 sets of trousers ("just like James Bond!") for just NZ$300. He was stoked. We also managed to get a free beer out of it - so we were both stoked. Our tuktuk driver had to honour his "if you buy suit then tuktuk free" promise - and would likely get a much larger petrol voucher because of it - so the three of us were stoked. And the tailor... you get the point!



And so, after collecting Karlos' custom-made clothes (trying them on to find them a perfect fit and me wolf-whistling) we made our way to The Grand Palace. The mother of all temples. To be honest - as far as temples go - yeah, it's great. But we were totally uninterested in this. Let me set the scene - it was 30-odd degrees, humid as a sauna in the jungle, and we had to bustle about with around 10 billion other tourists, wearing FULLY sleeved and trousered clothing. Apparantly this is a sign of respect. To who, I ask. Buddha? Because I'm sure the big B-dawg would rather his people cool and breezy when they come to hang out with him - not sweating themselves slowly to death. I don't know - maybe I'm missing the point and being catty - the heat does horrible things to me...



And so there we were. Surrounded by giant, gaudy, multi-coloured temples, glittering in the blazing midday sun - watching hoards of other visitors sprinkle water over their heads with large, bulbous, flower-type things; rubbing Buddha bellies; burning incense; taking off their shoes and entering the temples in order to press their foreheads to the ground in front of an emerald Buddha figurine... and we were like... ooooo-k! All we can do is sweat, and think "once you've seen one temple - you've seen them all"... and so we readily accepted the notion that 'this is not our thing,' and left the palace better off for having 2 visitors less, our money anyway, and off we went to de-robe somewhat - baring our naked shoulders and knees for the rest of Bangkok to see.

After a bustling couple of days we slowly allowed ourselves to sink into Thai culture, tolerating the heat, humidity, noise, and pollution with calm and grace... but before Bangkok consumed us completely - we bought train tickets to Chiang Mai, and got the hell outta there!

To Chiang Mai, and the north... !

This is saying goodbye to England, again.

*

My time in England, and Europe, with Karlos - was really special. Being able to visit my home country after so long living away was always going to be great, but bringing Karlos along with me - so he could finally see where I am from and understand my roots, and therefore me, better - was amazing. It was a wonderful two months emersing myself in time with family, friends, English history and culture. Oh yes! Believe it or not, we do have a culture that extends beyond rain, cups of tea, whinging and football hooligans! Just what made me think two months was going to be enough - god only knows! It wasn't.

*

We had a wonderful time with my family in the north, and it was really special staying at my Nana and Grandad's house - a place where I spent many, many days of my childhood - playing, laughing, and learning. To have Karlos there with me was really bonding for us. We were in a place so far from where we met, where he grew up and has lived his life - in another country, in another continent, in another hemisphere. A place where so much of 'me' belongs - and he could finally connect with that. We visited lots of my family - on their farm, at their local pubs, in their sitting rooms - and Karlos fit in like he had been a part of me for always. I am only sorry we didn't have time to visit all of my family members, and that those we did visit couldn't have been much longer. But my heart will always be there - and I will return soon.


(One of several family dinners and catch ups).

*

We had a wonderful time with my best friend, Vicky, in the south west - and it was really special staying with her and her lovely partner, James, and having Karlos and James hit it off like long lost friends, whilst Vix and I hung out like no time had passed at all between our last catch up. Vix and I have grown up together - we have been best friends since we were just 3 years old - starting school together, learning lessons and growing together, performing in plays together, swotting for exams together, playing sport together, going on holidays together, crying over boyfriends together, laughing over silly friends together, and singing into our hairbrushes. And when I left England in 2000, our friendship survived 11,000 miles and a 12-hour time difference, and scheduled telephone calls if ever we wanted a chat. It survived 4 years apart, a time when I moved back and we turned 20 together, but then another 4 years apart. But the moment we saw each other again, we picked up exactly where we left off - and after the initial squeals and tears and hugs, we were soon just two old, comfortable friends. Nothing had changed. Even though we have both grown up - and Vix is now a teacher and owns her own house and is very grown up indeed - we are still those two young girls making sense of the world and sharing life's happiness together. And even though I still wish I could pack her in my suitcase and bring her back to NZ with me, I am happy knowing how strong our friendship is. And we spent many hours laughing at the lads - Karlos and James - and their new bromance. Becoming almost as close as Vix and I - sharing private jokes and being as thick as thieves. Those were happy days.



*

I caught up with many more friends (although the friends I didn't have time to visit were unfortunately a much larger number).

I caught up with some of the girls I went to primary school with and the changes and the constants never cease to amaze me. We are still the same girls, still the same personalities, still getting the same enjoyment from each others' company - but now one of us is married, and two others are mums, and many own houses, and there has been university and travelling and lots of other grown up things - and we are no longer innocent. Life has swept us along in many different directions - but we have still maintained a connection and a bond with each other and that is so special. And that is something my life in NZ will always be missing.



I also caught up with the lovely Alison McCausland, someone who I've known since I was a very young girl, someone who not only encouraged my acting abilities, she wholeheartedly believed in them and provided me with so many opportunities to be on the stage. We caught up and watched some videos of our old plays... transporting me right back to another part of my life...

*

And at the end of my time in England, sitting in Heathrow airport with tears escaping from my eyes and Karlos holding onto me tightly, I realised something: whilst I wished for more time with family, and more time with long-lost friends, and enough time to make it to Greece - it wasn't meant to be, this time... And no matter how much time I spend in the UK, and Europe, it'll never, ever be enough ~ and this is what keeps me tied to the place... and forever thinking of my 'next visit.' But visit it will always be.

~ Comet xo

This is Yorkshire, duck! And I heart London!

After our car had been seized in Yorkshire, we spent a lovely few days with my aunty and uncle in Wetherby - and they managed to restore my faith in 'the best of Britain' and just how jolly and generous the people of my home country can be. It was just lovely being with them, talking about family matters (my aunty Lynn is currently working on our family history - my mum's side of the family - and we have dozens of relatives in South Africa, my great Grandad having immigrated to England when he was a young man). Lynn and Geoff are also extremely well travelled, so it was wonderful sharing stories and getting advise from them (they have previously lived in Zambia and Namibia) and I wish more than anything (as with all my family) that my time with them could have been longer. Lynn and Geoff are actually my great aunty and uncle - but they are so young in spirit that the only thing great about them is how awesome they are ♥



*

And so, after what should have been longer in Yorkshire, we caught a train to East London - Colchester - to stay once again with Zoe Bamford (who kindly put us up when we first arrived in England 2 months ago). This time we were ready to explore the big smoke: London. And of course to spend more time with Zoe, having good times.


Our time in London City istelf, was brief - but comprehensive! I of course have been to London before, so I plotted out a route that would help Karlos to see all the best touristy bits (the stuff that would be relevant and interesting to us both) in just one day - and it went something like this:

We got a train from Colchester to Liverpool St station, and we then went for a walk along the Thames, taking in the view of Westminster, to the west, as we headed east - towards The Globe, to purchase tickets for a show - any show - so long as it was on 'tonight.' On the way we had views of St Paul's Cathedral amongst other things.





After we had scored tickets for Shakespeare's 'Merry Wives of Windsor' (not the £5 standing seats, unfortunately - as even though there are 750 per every show, they were all sold out! So we had to splurge for the £29 'gods seats') - we then went to Pizza Express for a yummy, cheap lunch.

Next - we got the tube to Westminster - and here we were the mother of all tourists - taking snaps of Big Ben (which is actually the bell, inside the clock tower - and YAY we did get to here is ding dong), and the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey, and any statue of any national icon, or monarch at any point between all three. We battled with rude tourists (usually the French variety who don't know how to say "excuse me") and watched protesters who were anti-Irag war, who had set camp. Often I think this is the centre of it all - here in London - but always I seek to move on after an hour or so. Fortunately, Karlos had no interest in seeing the tombs of long-dead monarchs, or modern-day politicians... so we moved on before too long.




Continuing westward, we walked through St James' park on the way to Buckingham Palace. Here, we spent some time watching an old cockney man feed the squirrels - with nuts from his top pocket. It was adorable! The squirrels were a slightly timid of us passers-by, but not afraid of this old man at all - as soon as they had their nut they would scurry up a nearby tree to break into it and eat it, and then as soon as they were done they ran straight back to him to get another. I imagined he had done this, on the same bench, for quite some time. I do love squirrels - there are worse ways to waste time I suppose.




Eventually, we managed to tear ourselves away from the squirrels (ok - Karlos managed to tear me away!) and then we reached Buckingham Palace. Again, I was grateful to learn that Karlos had no desire to view "another bloody old house." I resisted the urge to make him understand the importance of Buckingham Palace (purely out of my inbred patriotism), as I didn't want to convinvce him to change his mind - I was on a tight budget after all, and the admission fee for B.P is not cheap! So we spent some time watching the guard's outside - do absolutely nothing - and had the usual tourist moment of taking pictures of each other outside the palace gates, me making him retake mine, again and again, until I was almost in tears at how I couldn't take a single good photo due to "bad hair," and him scolding me telling me I look lovely. And then we moved on.



We got the tube, still westbound, and got off at Hyde Park corner... Harrods. Whether you like shopping or not, whether you have money to spend or not - Harrods is a 'must see' in London. We wandered the various floors for a little while - I found myself a toilet complete with perfumes and creams free to use - and eventually we found an exit (veeery easy to get lost in there) shortly followed by a bakery (where Karlos told off a little boy for sticking his podgy finger into a chocolate cake on display and licking it - I thought the kid was gonna cry!), before we finally found a healthy joint selling sandwiches etc.



We could have sat in the sandwich bar aaaaall day - it was late afternoon now, and we had covered so much ground our feet were aching more than our growling stomachs. But no rest for the wicked - I had big plans - which involved a walk from Kensington Gardens into Hyde Park.... a long way - so we decided to get the tube even further west, and then walk back towards Hyde Park corner. A little optimistic a plan - halfway through Kensington Gardens my feet really started to hurt - and we had to stop for a rest. Karlos was fine with this... grateful probably... Hyde Park is around 400 acres in size! No amount of it being pretty would make up for a day's worth of walking already - so we flagged it.



We had enough time to get a tube to Trafalger square, as we headed back eastward (towards The Globe) before our play at 7pm. So we stopped there for a little while, and then found a (my favourite) 'Pret a Manger' cafe for a nice healthy tea.



Our day in London was slowly coming to an end... we got another tube, closer towards the Globe, and walked towards it over Millenium Bridge. And I couldn't think of any better way for us to finish our day in London - than a performance at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. Bravo!




We spent a few more days, out east with Zoe - chilling out and having a laugh. It was so easy to feel at home with Zoe - she's a good friend of Karlos' and I really enjoyed getting to know her. Karlos cooked us both tea one night; I managed to get my hair done at a hairdresser's round the corner (first time in 4 months - heaven!); we met her gossipy next door neighbours(!), and their dog - a staffy - who was afraid of a feather, hahaha; and we finished up with a wicked night out on the town with Zoe and some of her mates. All in all - bloody tops.



I ♥ London!

~ Comet xo

This is a seize and an arrest!...

It is moments like these when you remember why you left a cuntry. (Not a spelling mistake).

As much as I love England, and boast of it's many qualities - there is something fundamentally retarded about being able to purchase a car, but not being able to insure it.

I will explain...

Karlos and I purchased a car in the UK, primarily because it was a quarter of the price to rent a car, and we would have the option of selling it again before we left. We gave the address of my best friend, and the car dealer happily, and easily, drew up the ownership papers for us.

The next day we tried to insure the car, but - despite me being an engish citizen, and us both having international driving permits - no one would insure us because we are not residents, i.e. do not have a permenant address in the UK, and do not have a british drivers licence. But I have grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, etc etc, all who live here and I can use as an abode. I am a british citizen, with a New Zealand driver's licence, and an international driving permit that is recognised in the UK. I am also an AA member in New Zealand (talking to AA in the UK). But none of that was good enough.

So - because car insurance is the law in the with no exceptions - we were in a catch 22. We own a car that we cannot drive, legally. So what did we do? We stuck a proverbial middle finger up to the authorities and drove anyway. We would drive with extreme caution to avoid any potential accidents, and, well - we'd take the chance.

So we drove for one and a half months with no troubles. We drove to France, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, all over England, Ireland, and Scotland... before trouble eventuaslly caught up with us in Yorkshire, northeast England...

*

The police car pulled in front of our car, after following us for several miles. He turned on his "follow me" sign. "Shit," we both agreed.

"Hello sir," the lovely policeman said to Karlos. "Nothing wrong with your driving there, but one of our roadside cameras has scanned your licence plate, and it doesn't show you having insurance in our database."

"Ummm... we don't." Karlos replied honestly.

"Oh, I see," the policeman continued, "you do know it's the law to have car insurance?"

"We're from New Zealand," Karlos replied, with the usual, desperate plea of 'please let us off we're ignorant tourists.'

"Yes, but it is the law here, and you shouldn't have been driving without it. You're breaking the law."

We knew we were, we couldn't argue. Karlos explained how we had tried to get insurance, but no one would cover us - and the policeman asked him to come sit in the back of his car whilst he looked into the matter further. Meanwhile, I sat on the side of the motorway in our car - wondering what on earth was going on... for about half an hour.

Eventually, Karlos and the policeman came back to me, to explain that - despite the officer doing everything he could to help us, even calling insurance companies on our behalf, and getting the same "no chance" response that we did - the car was being seized and Karlos was under arrest. I burst into tears at being so utterly p*ssed off with "stupid bloody english rules that make no sense."

The policemen explained that Karlos would likely only get a caution, but he was still obliged to take him into the station. Another policeman arrived shortly afterwards, to drop off a third policeman - who then drove me to my aunty's house nearby, before taking our car off to the compound. To get the car back - we would need to pay a 150 quid fine, and prove we now have the car insured. Impossible, given that was the reason why we were in this predicament in the first place. The car was basically being taken away from us - british residents in a similar situation would have recieved a 500 quid fine. We could not be treated in the same way, as we could easily leave the country without paying our fine (which of course we would have). So it was bye bye car.

The policeman was just doing his job. He was a nice man, who helped us all he could and sympathised for us. It wasn't his fault.

Karlos spent an hour or two at the police station, inside a little cell and even had to give DNA samples! Eventually though, he was dropped off at my aunty's - with a caution and no further fines, as promised. And we spent a bit of time trying once again to insure the car, even my uncle tried to insure it for us - but to no avail.

In the end we decided - sod it. The car cost us 600 quid. What we saved on insurance in the first place, we lost buy loosing the car - so technically we broke even. And at least we now didn't have to spend the last week of our trip cleaning the car, listing the car and trying to sell it. We were free birds - thankfully not jail birds - and the cost to get to London by train was cheaper than the cost petrol would have been, anyway. So we were happy to conclude it was the best thing all round.

Perhaps it was devine intervention... if Karlos had been involved in a car accident, without insurance - he would certainly have faced jail-time.

We don't know what has become of the car. After a fortnight it would have been sold, or scrapped. I hope it was sold - the frost plug was about to burst any day... so I hope it gave the system some grief, by selling a faulty car to someone who demands recompense!

We really had the last laugh. ;-)

And my aunty and uncle restored my love for england - reminding me that her people, beyond all the illegal immigrants, football hooligans, and chavs... really are a wonderful lot.





Peace and love,

~ Comet xo

This is Bonnie Wee Scotland!

I have always been in love with Scotland. Something about the rugged countryside; the cool nip of the air; and those warm, rolling accents. There is also the whisky, and the toffee. When you're in Scotland - everyone wants to be Scottish. The Scots have a deep sense of pride - they are lovers and fighters, and know how to have a good time. I've been to Scotland often enough, and read enough scottish literature - to be excited every time I return. Every other word becomes 'wee,' and 'bonnie' is inserted at every given opportunity. Let me provide an example: on arrival into Edinburgh, after finding a camping ground surrounded by tall oak trees, and heading into the city centre, wrapped in as many layers as I could manage (as it's only 15 degrees, despite it being summer), glancing up at Edinburgh Castle, flanking the city streets - I couldn't help but exclaim: "Aaaaah - she's a bonnie wee place, is Scotland." And off we went in search of haggis...


Haggis, whilst slightly unpleasant sounding (a sheep's stomach stuffed with ground sheep's heart, liver, lungs, oatmeal, onion, and seasoning) - is actually really yummy, and not to be missed when visiting Scotland. Often served with 'neeps' and 'tatties' (mashed swede and potatoes) - you can also find it on most cafe menus - on top of toast or a jacket potato, or with salad. Our haggis came without the sheep stomach, thankfully! - and was more like a delicious mince stew, with a healthy dollop of mashed spuds on the top. Full of the stuff that would put hairs on your chest! (Probably a good thing in Scotland). I surprised myself at going back for second spoonfuls...


We spent a few days in Edinburgh - but as always, it was never enough. Wandering around Edinburgh's cobbled streets, in and out of shops, and pubs, and taking in all of the street performers along the Royal Mile - it's magical. You can feel yourself slipping back in time with all of the other Scots and visitors who have walked these streets, and supped in these pubs before you. We were of course in Edinburgh for the festival - a month long of performances of every description, from every country, at every venue available - so at every turn there were bagpipe players, marching bands, and an array of actors and dancers and singers trying to entice you to their performance(s) over the coming days.


We escaped from the performers (and the onset of rain) in a local pub, on the Royal Mile, and watched the world continue outside. We spent several hours inside this pub, drinking Jameson (soooooo sorry, Scotland - I do so prefer the Irish tipple) and chatting with an old Scotsman, telling tales of his country through the last half dozen decades. A lot of the time we couldn't understand his thick accent - but it mattered none.


That same night, after we left our old friend in the pub, we darted up the wet streets of the Royal Mile, bought some delicious hot and salty chips, and made our way to a festival play - an amazing performance of the new age play 'Art.' I have one thing to say. If ever you see 'Art' advertised as playing - beg, borrow and steal to get yourself some tickets! It is a short play, quite simply about 3 friends - one of whom pays a lot of money for a white painting, on white canvas, and the plotline is basically the reaction of his two friends towards this. It sounds lame. I thought so too. But it isn't. It is extremely clever and engaging; it questions - what is "art," friendship and can deeply formed opinions and prejudices be changed; and is incredibly funny, emotive and thought-provoking. A wonderful play for 3 talented male actors to perform, if ever you get the change. A bit more info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/)


And so! After a wonderful couple of days in Edinburgh - we travelled further north, to the shores of Loch Ness, and found a camping ground in a place called Drumnadrochit ~ on the western side of Loch Ness, and not far from the ruins of Urquhart Castle. I have been before - and was fully aware that the opening hours of Urquhart Castle were the usual 9am-5pm, charging an extortionate price (currently £7.00) - so we went after closing, climbed the fence, and walked down to the castle ruins to explore - at dusk! Much more fun. And also giving you the same sense of going back in time... wandering around imagining the people that would have once been walking here before you. It was really special - feeling the wind whip around your face, the cool evening air touch your cheeks, and the sounds of Loch Ness, eerily lapping the shoreline. We only left when it became almost too dark to see clearly.



We spent the next few days exploring Loch Ness, and the area between Drumnadrochit on the north west side, through to Inverness on the north right. Firstly, of course, we took a boat tour across Loch Ness - well, some of it - it's far too large to tour in one go. Loch Ness is incredibly eerie - even on a bright summer's day, there is still a hanging mist and greyness to the air - and it's also incredibly deep. Even when we were 2-3 metres from the edge of the lake, our captain's depth measuring devise told us we were at a 12m depth. The Loch is shaped like a giant 'U' - very deep, and very sheer. You can't help but imagine prehistoric beasties lurking below...



After Nessie hunting, we went to the Culldon Battlefields - a place where the final battle of the Jacobite Rising took place, in 1746 (the Jacobites, led by Charles Edward Stuart, sought to overthrow the reigning House of Hanover and return the House of Stuart to the throne. They were unsuccessful). My main reason for wanting to visit - even though I do have a strong interest in British history, particularly in the 16th-18th centuries - is because I am a HUGE fan of Diana Gabaldon's 'Outlander' book series. For those of you who know what I am talking about... this is where the fictional 'Jamie Fraser' battled at the end of Gabaldon's second book 'Dragonfly in Amber.' And I even found:



Hahaha - you can imagine how excited I was! Yes, Jamie Fraser is of course a fictional character - but I studied Revolutionary Europe at University, and have always found Gabaldon's stories fairly accurate in their historical context, and certainly an interesting way of viewing, and imagining 18th century Scotland. If any of you women out there have a penchant for Scots Warriers - reeeeead the 'Outlander' series! Anyway - the Culldon Battlefield really is a breathtaking place to visit - the sense of battle and of loss remains, stagnant in the air - if you know enough about the battle. To those that don't, admittedly, it probably seems little more than a large, overgrown field.



We continued our historical journey into Scotland - next stop was a bronze age cemetery. A sense of Stonehenge, and that time, swept over me - and to be honest, it's really hard to get your head around the idea that almost 3000years ago a settlement of people were burying and honouring their dead. 1000s of years before our current world, as we know it, existed. And that we were walking amongst the remains... mind blowing. Also! For those that are still interested in the Gabaldon saga - look what else I found:



Hahaha! I had googled 'Craigh Na Dunh' (the ancient stone circle, outside of Inverness, where Claire Randall stepped through a cracked stone and was transported back 200 years to 1745 - the basis of the 'Outlander' series) - but it was a work of fiction. So this is as close as I could get. It's too small for someone to easily step through - but boy was I excited to find this! (Ok, no more talk of Outlander now, I promise! - read it though!)

Our historical journey really became more of a journey of 'historical literature' - as Shakespeare was the motive behind our next stop. Cawder Castle... (you with me?) fictional castle of the Thane of Cawdor... (there yet?) - none other than: MacBeth. This one is for you, John Wilson!:



We loved our time in the Scottish highlands - we slept in our car, as the rest of our European Adventures, and we ate sausages from disposable coal BBQs. One night we went for a jog along the road towards Urquhart Castle - and I thought how I could spend many more happy days in Bonnie Wee Scotland...




But our journey had to continue.

Before getting back to England, we travelled south once again, and stopped at Stirling - slightly north west of Edinburgh - to visit the William Wallace Tower. And here we spent a wonderful day climbing the tower, learning about Wallace and other Scottish patriots during the battles of Scottish Independence (late 13th - early 14th centuries). Braveheart - is a good (albeit theatrical) starter to this history - but there is much more to it than that. Wallace's part in Scottish freedom (not quiiite like it is depicted in 'Braveheart' by the way) is remembered all throughout Scotland, with even a plaque to honour him, opposite one for Robert the Bruce, outside the entrance of Edinburgh Castle. No trip to Scotland would be complete without emersing yourself in this part of the Scottish past... we finished our time here watching the sun lap the fields of Stirling, from the top of the Wallace Tower, before climbing down to the bottom and listening to the stories of an euld Scotsmen, renacting times gone by, whilst we sat in the grass under the summer sun.

This is Ireland! To be sure!

Going to Ireland with Karlos was awesome. Not long after we very first met, at the beginning of 2007, I went to a St Patrick's Day BBQ at his place and he spent most of the early evening making me laugh with his Irish accented 'potato joke.' Our close friends in NZ will know the 'potato joke' well, mostly for the fact that I am the only one that ever found it funny. And I really did - mostly because Karlos and his feigned Irish accent was just so darned endearing.

(Insert Irish accent here:)

"What's oval, dirty, and only has one toe?"

"A po-ta-toe!"

And so - my little Irish descendant and I (his mother's family are O'Hanlan's), arrived together in Ireland - planning several days of walking through the emerald green countryside, and pub-hopping.

Dublin was our first stop - we came by car on the ferry from Liverpool - and found ourselves a youth hostel in the city centre so we didn't have to faff around with taxis to and from camping grounds. Karlos deserved to drink, not drive. This was Ireland! So we went to a pub right next door to our hostel, filled ourselves to bursting with Irish stew, and then wandered along The Temple Bar district and hopped in and out of many a pub. The Irish know how to have a good time, to be sure (to be sure).

We headed south on day two and stopped in a town called - Kilkenny.




We found a camping ground there - and wandered streets of buildings painted pink, yellow, green, blue, and met locals in pubs over pints of beer. The Irish accent filled our ears and was a treat to hear. Often we couldn't understand a bloody word they were saying - but it didn't often matter. We found a pub with an Irish band playing traditional favourites - we were about the only people in the bar who didn't know the words to sing along - but we jigged out with the best of them, none-the-less. Some lady got chatting to Karlos and I and told him he was lovely, and I was lovely and that he needs to look after me as ladys like me don't come around often. I was pretty happy about that. We both were. We got back to our camping ground rather late, and had another hilarious time trying to get the bed pumped and ready whilst half smashed.

We moved on again on day three - continuing south to Cork, as Karlos has family history in Co Cork, and stopped for lunch in a bagel cafe. Cork was a gorgeous town and, even though I don't often enjoy shopping, looked like a place I would love to come with a full wallet. We stopped in a furtniture store and we (mostly I) admired types of dining room table sets I would like us to buy when we get back to NZ and settle together.

As we sat in the sunshine eating our bagels, we were approached by an Irish man named... wait for it... Patrick! Who wanted to chat with us. We humoured him for some time, until our bagels had long been eaten, and watched him rush off and tell us 'give me two minutes,' before he came back with printed information on Charle Upham, a celebrated Kiwi who he had an interest in. It was very sweet, if a little - odd.

We arrived in Kilarney later that day and spent the next couple of days there. I just love Kilarney, and Karlos also has history in County Kerry, where Kilarney lies, so it was perfect. We spent an entire day walking through the Kilarney national park, through green fields, and past crystal clear lakes, and in between native trees - and lots of ferns! The countryside reminded us very much of NZ, in parts. After 4 hours walking, Karlos had "had enough," and so we retreated to the pub next to our camping ground, before spending the evening BBQing and watching the sun and misty night air descend on the mounatins flanking Kilarney. A wonderful place.


Car issues have been plaguing us. It appears our bargain 600 quid car has a leak - in the radiator, or cooling fluid tank, or something or other - Karlos has it all under control, and my job is to remain positive that 'keep topping it up with coolant' should do it. I'm sure it will be fine - the car still runs, and the temperature is stable - so we should still be able to drive it up to Scotland and back south again, before flogging it on to some unsuspecting car dealer.

And so, after another fun night spent back in Dublin, including a tour of the Jameson Distillery, and another evening spent in a youth hostel which taught me that I really have outgrown youth hostels these days - we boarded to carferry back to England, en route to Scotland, the next stop.


As each day goes by I am finding myself becoming a lot calmer and a lot happier. Days spent on the road, to come and go as we please, is having a wonderful affect on me, generally. I think about coming home to NZ a lot, what I plan to do in the future, and how I see myself settling down and so on. And I find myself excited, and full of passion life, more than ever. Shit really does happen - but life is what we make it.



Peace and love and fiddle-dee-dee from Ireland.

~ Comet xo