The Homestead - Think 'Deliverance' but with karaoke

The next major stop would be Fraser Island. But this was too far away to manage in one stretch of driving and so we stayed with a family on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Well, it was actually a working cattle station on the Capricorn Coast, and a night to remember.

When we arrived, tired and still severely hungover, we were treated to a hayride around the property, all 12,000 hectares of it. As the dust whirled around my head and the smell of cow dung filled my nostrils, the mother of the family told us all about how the responsibility of working the farm had been passed down for generations. Looking around, it was beautiful but barren and I wondered if their odd looking but cute children might want to rebel and leave the farm to become a dancer in Las Vegas or something.

Our rooms were simply four walls, one of which was a thick sheet of corrugated iron, two bunk beds and a thin rug. The showers and toilets were outside and every time we opened the door hundreds of mosquitoes and other winged things flew in, making us itch. But it was only for one night and I have to say, I have never ever seen stars like I saw that night. They were huge and luminous against the pitch black backdrop. It was very very romantic and another beautiful sight experienced without Nick! However, necks craned, Steph, Abby and I shared a special moment :)

All geared up for an early night, we packed ready for another 6:30am start, settled into bed, closed our eyes and opened them again abruptly as, 'BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM, I want you in my room!' screeched out through the corrugated iron. I couldn't believe it, the family were singing 'Vengaboys' tracks on the karaoke next door. It was like having a nightclub next to my head. We listened as groans from the rest of the group seeped through the breeze block walls and it was another classic travelling moment. Grin and bear it, or else you will have a total breakdown.

Long Island, Beautiful Skies and Free Wine

Choosing to sail the Whitsunday islands for one day rather than two was up there with the best decisions I made whilst travelling. Simply because we got to spend more time on the sumptuous Long Island.

I remember being in a particularly bad mood the day we boarded the ferry to Long Island, one of the 74 islands that make up the Whitsundays on Australia's east coast. There had been a lot of driving and waiting around in the heat, so I was grumpy and eager to change my clothes. But then the ferry came, and we boarded as the sun began to set. Steph and I went straight to the top deck and the salty air blew away my bad mood as the sky turned a purpley pink and the rugged mountains became silhouettes.

Even though the journey to our destination was a short 15 minutes, the sky had completely transformed by the time we reached the jetty. It was now a deep blend of orange and crimson, as if Long Island was showing off for our arrival. I was completely moved by it. Steph more so, she almost shed a tear, claiming it was the most beautiful sky she had ever seen :)

It took us longer than the rest of the group to get from the jetty to the resort because we couldn't stop taking pictures of the sky which seemed to get more impressive with every minute that passed. Finally we followed the twinkly lights through the trees to our room, and as a wallaby hopped past me, I realised I was falling in love with Australia.

That evening we sang karaoke and drank Long Island ice teas at the bar which overlooked the sea. The next two days were perfect. I had come away expecting to find untouched natural beauty, and it was here on Long Island. The small resort was quiet with only a few visitors and the time passed in a haze of swimming, kayaking and sunbathing. The island was nestled between grassy mountains and ahead there was only a massive stretch of clear sea. The majority of the group had chosen to do the two-day sail of the Whitsunday Islands, leaving about 10 of us on the island. The idea of spending two days on a boat seemed like hell to me, especially after the horrors of Wanna Taki cruise in Fiji, so I was more than happy to be marooned in paradise, with what was, essentially, the best of the group.

Following our day of relaxation, we were picked up achingly early for our sail of the Whitsundays. It was a cold and rainy morning and I feared the worst as we were plonked onto the rocky sail boat for a nine-hour jaunt.

We visited Whitehaven Beach and its pure white sand for an hour, which was pleasant, but then I lost track of the afternoon when a huge white freezer box was opened and someone uttered the words, 'all-you-can-drink wine'. Steph, Abby and I certainly took advantage, had a great laugh, sang loudly on the ferry back to Long Island whilst drawing on each other with black marker pen and proceeded to cry for no reason. It was a great day.

Australia - The Rarrier Beef

We arrived safely into Australia after a relatively painless flight and I was happy. I wouldn’t have to see another plane or another currency for eight heavenly weeks. We were in Cairns, North Queensland and had a couple of days to kill before we were due to meet our new Contiki crew, with whom we would travel down the east coast.

Cairns is a holiday spot for Australians and foreigners alike. The weather is great pretty much year-round and there are loads of restaurants, beaches and bars. We spent most of our time chilling on the esplanade and enjoying Coffee Club, watching the world go by.

One of the main reasons why Cairns attracts travellers in their droves, though, is because it is the doorway to the Great Barrier Reef.

We met the Contiki group on a Saturday afternoon and less than eight hours later I was downing sambuca shots and watching Steph win a bar dancing competition. It was a great night and the ice was officially broken with the group.

We got back to the hotel at around 3am and the last thing I remember is Steph muttering, “Fuck the Rarrier Beef” as we fell into bed. Yes, in just four hours we would be on our way to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef, a wonder of the world – possibly still drunk.

I’ll never forget the agony I felt at 7am that morning, as my alarm bleeped obnoxiously. Wearing last night’s makeup and with a thumping head I tried to dress and pack a bag for the day, all the while wondering whether I should just give up and climb back into bed. I mean, how ‘Great’ could this reef be?

Somehow I found myself on the coach to the port. The scenery was beautiful with views of black rocks jutting from the green sea, kids on rope swings and deserted beaches. But the roads were narrow and windy. I got off and promptly threw up.

Mid morning we boarded the QuickSilver for a two-hour sail to the Reef. I was feeling a little better because Steph and Abby, a fantastic 18 year-old from Derby, were making me laugh. Abby was living in Sydney on a year out and the three of us were inseparable for the next two weeks.

The Great Barrier Reef was magical from the moment I stepped off the boat and onto the pontoon. Over in the corner were some metal steps leading to the sea and a man in a diving suit was crouched over, the water bubbling beneath his outstretched hands. As I got closer, I saw that he was feeding fish. Hundreds of absolutely huge, rainbow coloured fish. They bobbed up and down and poked their massive heads out of the water. I’d never seen anything like it, the hangover vanished and I couldn’t wait to get my snorkel gear on and go exploring.

The reef didn’t disappoint. It was like finding a treasure chest under the sea. The coral was so beautiful and untouched that it literally took my breath away and I struggled to keep my breathing steady enough to avoid sucking in mouthfuls of sea water. I wasn’t expecting to come face-to-face with the fish either, they were huge and not timid at all. The whole experience was made even more exhilarating by how scary it could be. The current was strong and I often found myself unable to get away from the rugged coral in time to avoid brushing my legs against it, which felt like sharp knives on my skin. It was also easy to swim out quite far without even realising it and I had visions of popping my head out of the water to see the boat pulling away. That actually did happen to an unfortunate couple in the past, but luckily I made it back to the boat, weary after swimming for two hours, but content that I had just created a pretty amazing memory, and positive that travelling had been worth every single penny.

The boat ride back was hilarious because of Abby. We were sat on one side of a table, facing a young couple. Abby was feeling sea sick and rested her head on the table and stretched her legs out, wrapping them around what she thought was the table leg. She must have been snoozing for over an hour when she sat up, a little mortified and whispered to me that her legs had actually been tightly wrapped around the young man’s leg in front of her. He had been too polite to pull away and had just sat there, probably hoping his girlfriend wouldn’t notice their embrace before very slowly trying to remove his leg from Abby’s grip. We must have laughed for an hour.

Abby if you’re reading this, I miss you, you’re one of the coolest people I know and I hope you are making good use of that hairdryer I sold you for $5.

Steph - It Started with a Twin Room

I couldn’t write this travel blog without mentioning the person who started it all – Stephanie Reed.

It was a cold and dreary Monday morning when I received an email from Steph asking if I would be interested or knew anyone who might be interested in travelling for five months.

After seeing the itinerary, and with my colleague Ellie’s strong support, I knew this was something I was going to do.

Although we had been friends during our Journalism course at Sheffield Uni, the subsequent years, different friendship groups and full time jobs had caused us to naturally drift apart.

We shared a room across America and got to know each other again, drifting off to sleep sharing stories, happy and sad, shameful and funny.

But I think the first time I realised how much fun Steph would be was when I drunkenly fell backwards into a bath in Miami. We laughed until we cried and went on to giggle our way around the world.

Basically I would like to say thank you, Steph, for inviting me on the trip you had so carefully planned and researched. You dragged me out of a rut and my life has changed for the better.

You have appreciated this trip every step of the way and made me laugh even when I felt homesick and tired. When we eventually do separate it will be like losing an arm.

I will miss the way you never get bored of beautiful sunsets, and aren’t embarrassed to shed the occasional tear over a scenic photograph in a calendar!

I will miss waking up after a heavy night out and hearing how ‘tragic’ you feel. I’ll miss your loud and infectious laugh and your hilarious impressions.

I have loved dancing like an idiot in clubs across the world with you, dreaming up documentaries which we are so certain will ‘take the media by storm’, pouring over star signs in coffee shops and bursting into hostel rooms in the early hours doing that drunken ‘whispering’ that turns out to be louder than actual speaking.

We have shared so much over the past four months, not just the amazing experiences, but stories, secrets, food, money, rooms and even a bed! You’re a fiercely loyal and selfless friend, a fellow dreamer with a brilliant sense of humour and a big heart. I’ll never be able to look at another Mint Aero without thinking of you, and I’m sure the shop assistant at our local 7-eleven who ordered them in especially for you won’t either!

The perfect travel buddy, my singing partner, my wingman, my confidante and my bloody good friend, you have earned yourself bridesmaid status, missy – let’s just hope you suit the shade ‘Tangerine Queen’. Haha. Love you.

J Hey Hey x

(just livin’ ma life!)

Auckland - Brief but Eventful...

Arriving into Auckland, New Zealand after eight days in Fiji was heavenly. I was ready for western comforts. And not only was it western, Auckland city centre reminded me of Manchester. So I felt like I was home.

But it was at Base Backpacker hostel where we would be jolted from our cosy traveller bubble, and reminded that we were three girls, travelling alone.

We arrived at Base at around 3am on the Sunday morning to find that our booking was actually for the following night, meaning we were effectively homeless. Luckily, there was space for us, but it meant splitting up and going into mixed dorms. After a quick discussion, it was decided that Sarwah and I would go into one room, and Steph would go next door. We were all exhausted and so didn’t worry too much about the split.

The next morning after a restless night’s sleep I was getting ready in the shared bathroom when Steph walked in looking a little shell-shocked. She managed to say, “Something really traumatic happened last night”, before bursting into tears.

After we had gone to bed, Steph had gone to the bathroom, leaving her key in the dorm. The annoying thing about Base hostels is that doors automatically lock, so she was left stranded in the corridor. It was almost 4am so Steph knocked hoping someone might wake up and let her in. Eventually a tall, bearded German guy opened the door. She was thankful and climbed into her top bunk.

The room was dark and everyone was sleeping, but the German bloke kept talking to Steph, asking where she was from and where she had travelled to. Aware of her other room mates, Steph was polite but blunt and closed her eyes to sleep. The next thing she knew the bunk was gently shaking and she opened her eyes to find that the guy had climbed up the ladders and was hovering over her. Steph lay terrified as she watched the stranger calmly climb in to bed next to her. He kept trying to massage her feet but after a lot of hushed shouting he finally climbed back out. There were about four other guys in that room and no one did a thing to help.

I felt shock, anger, guilt and fear all in the space of a few seconds. We complained but nothing was done. I think we had become a little complacent because of our previous good luck with the other guys room mates. But Steph’s traumatic experience meant we all had our guards back up.

The drama in Auckland didn’t end there as when we were due to leave it turned out STA Travel had messed up some of our flights, meaning we were stuck in Auckland for another night because of the time differences between the UK and NZ.

After getting up at 3am only to head back to Base hostel, we didnt appreciate the bag storage guy taking a dislike to Steph and he proceeded to make our lives even more difficult for the last few hours that we were stranded there. That basically ended with Steph shouting, “I cannot believe people like you exist, dickhead!” In a very Geordie accent.

It wasn’t all bad though. During our four days there we had an amazing night out, repaired our stomachs with some good food and did a lot of relaxing, resting and reading in coffee shops.

When everything was finally sorted, we were on our way to Cairns.

Bloody Bula - A Guest Post

Imagine a world without soap, where bathroom doors come in the form of plastic sheets, dorm rooms look like gas chambers and the only way out is on a boat that never comes. Welcome to Fiji.

But that's enough from me, please do enjoy my lovely friend, Steph's account of our very own slice of 'paradise'.


http://lifeis2short-liveit.blogspot.com/

The City Of Angels...and Nut Jobs

I think sometimes a good cry really helps and after I had cried out all the pent up emotion, I ended up having a fantastic few days in LA.

We were up bright and early and wandered down the star-studded boulevard and put our hands into the celebrities’ imprints at Mann’s Chinese Theatre. I was thrilled to find that mine and Marilyn’s hands are dead on the same size and then we took a sight-seeing tour bus through Beverly Hills.

We had lunch at the Farmer’s Market and I was fascinated to see The Viper Room and Whiskey A-go-go, where Goldie Hawn had worked before she rocketed to fame.

A lot of people are generally let down by LA and I think this is because they expect pristine streets lined with gold and celebrities on every corner. I knew what to expect. Hollywood is slightly grungy, charming and edgy and not as glitzy as Beverley Hills 90210 has led us to believe. It’s a place for the young and carefree and the rich and poor alike. And Hollywood Boulevard is a fantastic place to walk down early evening to watch the weird and wonderful at their best.

That night we intended to have a relatively quiet one, but this was the most social hostel ever and we had a crazy time with the other backpackers, playing music in the dingy bar and drinking Jack Daniels until 3am. I fell into bed and was up a few hours later to head for Universal Studios.

After a jam-packed day at the park, we got dressed up intending to see LA’s nightlife. We played drinking games with some hilarious British guys from the hostel and then ventured out to find that LA does not come alive midweek, unless you know the doormen. Heading back to the hostel, we had a few drinks and got an early night.

The next day we were leaving for Fiji and we were all sad to say goodbye to Brendan, who we had grown close to over the past three weeks. After a spot of shopping on Melrose Avenue and the obligatory Caramel Frappucino in honour of Britney, our mini bus came to take us to the airport. I couldn’t believe we were leaving America after such a fantastic few weeks and it felt like months had passed since arriving into Miami.

North America – check.

The End of The Road - Cue Tears

We woke early and painfully to begin the final stretch across the Mojave Desert into Anaheim, California, where it would be time to say goodbye.

The mood on the bus was weird. It was eerily quiet and people were more withdrawn than usual. I was nervous about going back into hostels and the impending Fiji trip because America had been such a wonderful bubble.

As we drew closer to Anaheim, Jason played ‘Time of Your Life’ by Greenday and all the girls lost it.

Sunglasses covering our swollen eyes, we pulled into the Best Western hotel car park and got off the bus for the last time.

After many rounds of hugs and tears, Steph, Sarwah, Brendan and I climbed into a cab to make the 40-minute journey to our hostel on Hollywood Boulevard. Our American road trip was over.

*****

It was in LA where I had my own emotional meltdown.

I had seen it happen to a couple of people along the way, but now it was my turn. Contiki North America was over, we had checked into a cramped hostel room with two slightly odd Austrian guys (one of which had insane eyes and very quickly developed a crush on Steph), I was hung over and my clothes were dirty after a long day on the coach.

We were in a Thai restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard and Brendan had gone to the liquor store, leaving us three sat in silence at the bar. Steph suddenly said, “I feel a bit overwhelmed” and I lost it. I didn’t even attempt to hold back the tears like I had so often done in the past. I sat and cried, face in hands in full view of the staring, curious Americans.

I wanted everything I didn’t have in that moment; my own room, a real towel, my mum and a TV playing re-runs of ‘Friends’, basically just home comforts. Luckily the guys rallied around and were totally supportive, so it wasn’t long before I had calmed down.

I think I am telling you this little story because before I came travelling, nobody had mentioned that sometimes, it’s really bloody hard. And I don’t think there’s any shame in talking about the bad times as well as the good. Travelling isn’t all koala bears and beach parties, and I realised that it’s OK to feel a bit shit and a bit homesick, it doesn’t mean you aren’t appreciating how lucky you are to be seeing the world, you are just being human.

It was afterwards when I was having a beer in the hostel and talking to Brendan that I had one of those ‘how crazy is life?’ moments. I thought back to the year before and how down I had been about various things. I never would have thought that a year on, I would be on Hollywood Boulevard, close to tears and musing about life with an Australian bloke having just travelled across North America.

I suddenly remembered what my long suffering driving instructor, Malc, had said to me last year, “Julie, if you don’t like your life, then change it.”

I didn’t, so I did.

Welcome to the Fabulous LAS VEGAS Nevada

The atmosphere on the bus was electric as we drove to Las Vegas. After a stretch of National Parks and quaint western towns, we were desperate for a good night out and where better to have a night out than Vegas?

We stopped at Zion National Park, near Springdale, Utah on the way and then a brief break at Wal-Mart was the final hold up before we hit the highway, heading for Sin City.

I had always wanted to drive through the desert into Vegas and now I was doing it, surrounded by new friends with so much to look forward to. The only thing that would have made our entrance into Vegas better would have been to do it in an open-top Cadillac, but you can’t have everything.

We drove past majestic, glittering hotels like The Mandalay Bay and The Luxor before we reached our home for the next two nights – America’s Best Value Inn. It looked like somewhere that Cletus and Brandine might book themselves into before an appearance on The Jerry Springer Show, but we had a bed and a shower, so I was happy.

That evening, after a gorgeous Italian dinner, we drank yard-long cocktails in downtown Vegas and then headed to a little Wedding Chapel to see the fake marriage of Christian and Caroline, two lovebirds from the tour. We drank wine on a balcony at the top of the Mandalay Bay with views of the glittering strip beneath us. And then headed to The Cathouse in the adjoining Luxor, where the beautiful waitresses strutted around in corsets and fishnets, occasionally putting on risqué shows for us dumbstruck mere mortals.

Without intending to I got very drunk and tottered home singing Kelly Clarkson songs with Steph.

The hangover the following morning was not appreciated, especially considering we had planned to spend the day on the rides at The Stratosphere with Brendan, Carly and Aaron.

We took the monorail to The Stratosphere which is right at the other end of the Strip and had a ball going on all the rides twice, despite our hangovers and the blazing sun beating down on us.

After lunch we all split up, apart from Steph and I who decided to stay together and explore Vegas.

As we wandered down the strip we could faintly hear music coming from The Bellagio and so we crossed the road to watch the fountains. As we came closer I began to recognise the song. It was Time to Say Goodbye by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli. Not only was it a beautiful song, it was the song that had played at my Grandad’s funeral, just weeks before.

Overcome by sadness, I thought about Gramps, who had been such an integral part of my childhood and teen years. He was funny and quick-witted, loving and so clever and I adored him. Every week when we visited for Sunday dinner, he and Nan would always stay on their drive waving us off right until they could no longer see the car. They would never go back indoors early.

Watching the fountains move in sync with the music was incredibly beautiful and emotional. I was transported straight back to the church on that grey day, surrounded by everyone I loved, minus one. We stood in silence for a few moments and then moved on.

One thing I wasn’t prepared for in Las Vegas was the debilitating heat. Heat that I have never experienced before. It takes your breath away and Steph and I had to keep darting into casino doorways to be soothed by the air-conditioning. By the time we met the others for dinner, I was completely exhausted.

That evening was designed to be a big one, and Jason had arranged for a bar called Sugarcane to provide us with free vodka and mixer for a couple of hours. The bar had been newly refurbished and everyone in it was beautiful and rich. Scantily clad dancers donned the platforms around the bar and waitresses provided us with what seemed like endless vodka and pineapple.

Then we moved on to the most impressive club I ever did and probably ever will see.

Tao was located within the Venetian Hotel and as we were a huge group, we had the privilege of queue jump and cheaper entry.

We walked through a darkened corridor before reaching the main entrance to the club and the first thing that greeted us was two beautiful Japanese girls in a bath of rose petals. The walls were a sexy burgundy colour and the dark lighting added to the ambiance. The club was huge and absolutely packed but we managed to push our way to the raised bar which glistened like it was made of crystal. Drinks were expensive and glitter seemed to drop from the ceiling as R & B music pumped out. Steph and I managed to lose most of the group pretty quickly but were soon directed towards a rooftop bar. Making our way up flights of stairs it seemed no one was in front or behind us, but then we pushed open a door to reveal a massive playground of bars, swimming pools, cushioned loungers and leggy model-types. We joined the group and danced and laughed on what was our last night together.

A Grand Canyon and a Football Match

Our arrival into Kanab, Utah was significant for two reasons. Firstly, we would travel from here to explore yet another wonder of the world, a jaw-dropping, tear-jerking masterpiece, also known as the Grand Canyon.

Secondly, and perhaps even more importantly, Kanab was the place where our two tour buses would go head-to-head in the Contiki football match, and losing was not an option!

After leaving Yellowstone we had stopped briefly at the very beautiful and western-styled town of Jackson Hole before an overnight stay in Salt Lake City. Unfortunately we didn’t see much of Utah’s capital city as we arrived late and left just as the sun came up, heading for Bryce Canyon.

We had a couple of hours at Bryce Canyon National Park, located in south-western Utah. Visually, I thought this park was stunning. The red, orange and white rocks looked beautiful against their blue sky backdrop and the dusty footpaths and occasional tree stump made me feel like I was a million miles away from home. A few of us hiked a little along the canyon before we saw one of the guy’s from our bus bounding downhill towards us, slightly sweaty and sporting a newly bandaged forearm. He had lost his footing on the rocks and inhaled sharply as he pulled back the bandage to reveal his bloody wound. We feigned worry, but this was the same guy who had twice thrown himself out of a slow moving raft in Cody, ‘just for the experience.’ When I heard he would be riding a horse around Grand Canyon, I feared for his life.

The first night in Kanab we had a few drinks in Kate’s room but got a relatively early one. It was a short drive to the Grand Canyon the following day and as the sun was getting hotter and hotter, our tour manager, Jason gave us some vital dos and don’ts about the Canyon. After hearing a few horror stories, I was even more excited to get there.

It was around this time that tensions were at their peak between people from our bus and people from the other. I don’t think anybody really knew where this rivalry had come from, but some things were said, especially about some of my friends and winning that night’s football match was growing ever more important.

The Grand Canyon is, quite simply, breath-taking. After stopping to stare at the miles upon miles of expansive rock, Brendan, Christina, Steph, Carly, Aaron and I began our first trail of the Canyon. I loved the Grand Canyon because it didn’t feel too touristy and you could walk around for a while without seeing another soul. I also loved it because knowing that one wrongly placed step could see you plummeting to your death really added to the excitement. I particularly enjoyed our hike through the more wooded areas. We climbed the rocky paths and came through a clearing in the trees, rested on some logs and talked, taking in the outstanding views and basking in the heat. It was a perfect day.

When we got back to the motel, we had a couple of hours to rest and then it was time to jump on the coach and head to the park for the match. The girls and I were taking our roles as the team’s cheerleaders very seriously and though we hadn’t had chance to practice, our fierce loyalty to our tour mates would help us wing it.

The game started and I realised we didn’t have it in the bag as each team was of a similar ability. There were a few near misses but we cheerleaders kept up the energy, literally screaming for our team and chanting their names, “Gimme a ‘C’!”

As with most things, the ‘cheerleaders’ from the other bus were the first to make the chants personal, but we retaliated with the classic, “U.G.L.Y, you ain't got no alibi, you UGLY!” And their childishness made it all the more satisfying when our team thrashed theirs with a 5-2 win. Of course, the girls and I missed the final winning goal because we were engrossed in one of our many ‘huddles’, thinking up slurs, but we were ecstatic none the less.

The match was followed by a huge barbecue and the two buses came together properly for the first time to bury the hatchet and enjoy a good meal. We got back to the motel after the sun had gone down and we all dragged chairs from our rooms into the car park to drink beer underneath the stars. After the adrenaline rush of winning the match, I felt quite sad because I realised the first chapter of travelling was almost over and I would soon have to say goodbye to my friends.

Next stop – Vegas…

From Cody to Yellowstone

En route to Cody, Wyoming we were dropped off at the famous monument, Devil’s Tower for two hours. I read somewhere that this is one of the ‘Things to see before you die’. We were all terribly hung over and the sun was hot, making this drop off an unpopular one. It looked like a huge tree trunk. Don’t worry too much about seeing it before you die. I was more excited by the prairie dogs, which in fact look nothing like dogs, more like rats. Cute though.

That evening we stayed at Buffalo Bill’s Antler Inn and I experienced my first Rodeo. Some of the group really got into the spirit and sported cowboy hats and checked shirts and we all piled onto the bleachers, me with the obligatory hotdog in hand. The real-life cowboys were lined up on a wall at the front, legs swinging over the edge and eager for their turn on the bucking horses. Some kids close by were causing trouble and simulating the action using a large, rusty barrel.

I enjoyed some aspects of the rodeo, such as the horse riding challenges and the cute games arranged for the kids in the audience, but it was around the ‘calf roping’ point that my mild amusement turned to horror. The idea of the ‘game’ was to let a calf loose in the ring and with the crowds screaming a cowboy would ride out on a horse and lasso the calf, dragging it sharply to the floor by its neck with such force that it looked like it should break. Once the calf was down, the cowboy would quickly tie up the it’s legs rendering it lifeless on the floor.

I didn’t want to look pathetic so I gulped back the tears as the excited screams from the crowd made the ordeal even more menacing.

It turned out the Rodeo was not my cup of tea, but I’m glad I went. After all, the whole point of travelling is to see how other people live, to find out what makes them tick and to discover their interests and their ‘normal’. As our tour manager, Jason drilled into us, ‘It’s not wrong, it’s just different.’

Following the best breakfast I have ever had at a little diner called Grannies, we were off to Yellowstone National Park, where we would be spending two nights. The temperature dropped and the scenery became more and more magnificent as we drew closer to the park, which was established in 1872 and is located in Wyoming, Montana and Idaho.



A few people complained about the weather, but being a sucker for a cold but sunny climate, I absolutely loved it.

We spent two days hiking through the forests, gazing at beautiful fountains and seeing one to many smoky geysers. We saw elk and deer and even a herd of buffalo stampeding towards some terrified tourists. When we realised they would be OK, that was really quite funny.


Although I felt two days in Yellowstone was enough, I really enjoyed my time there because it was so different to the city tours. It had immense natural beauty, the air was clear and I felt de-toxed. The actual town was charming with a strong emphasis on local trade and a close-knit vibe.
That evening, after watching Old Faithful erupt, we had dinner at a cosy lodge and drove back to the hotel in the dark. We stayed at the aptly named Brandin’ Iron Inn which was a slightly upmarket motel, but it still had that cool slasher movie feel to it. Our second night in Yellowstone was spent at the local bar celebrating Caroline’s birthday. We met the local trout fishermen, drank large measures of whisky and coke, played pool and stumbled home in the biting wind.

Deadwood - "More like Alivewood!"

We were staying in Deadwood for two nights at the Historic Franklin Hotel. If you ever imagined what a haunted, Old Western hotel might look like, this was it.

Built in the early 1900’s, the hotel’s white-columned entrance led to a historic lobby filled with antiques, huge chandeliers and original features. Thick crimson carpets spiralled up the grand staircase and the walls were covered in eerie paintings. The guest rooms were named after famous people who had stayed there, like Theodore Roosevelt and Babe Ruth and some had grand pianos and ornate bathroom features. The hotel had a casino and the female bar staff sauntered around wearing skimpy outfits and too much makeup. It honestly felt like we had stepped back in time, and I loved it.

Deadwood was a fascinating little place in itself. Notorious for the murder of Wild Bill Hickok and the resting place of Calamity Jane, throughout the 1800’s Deadwood was a lawless town with high levels of crime, prostitution and gambling. The main high street looked as though nothing had changed, with wooden-fronted saloons, casinos and drug stores crammed in side by side. Not a single McDonald’s in sight

After an early night, we were off to see Mount Rushmore. This required driving up a steep hill and I’ll never forget the trees parting briefly to reveal the four famous faces from a distance. It was strange to see something with my own eyes that I had seen so often in films.

The sculpture represents the first 150 years of the history of the USA and features George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln.

I was impressed by Mount Rushmore, obviously, but I was much more intrigued by the story behind the Crazy Horse Monument, just a few minutes drive away.

Sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski and Lakota Chief Henry Standing Bear officially started the Crazy Horse mountain monument in the Black Hills of South Dakota in 1948. Crazy Horse, an Oglala Lakota warrior, is riding a horse and pointing into the distance. The monument’s purpose is to honour the culture, tradition and living heritage of North American Indians.

Ziolkowski's sons grew up helping him on the mountain while the girls assisted their mother, Ruth in establishing the visitor centre. Since 1947, the construction has never stopped.
Ziolkowski died in 1982 but his children, wife and granchildren remain involved in the project.
To give you an idea of the memorial’s size, when it is finally finished, the whole of Mount Rushmore could fit inside of Crazy Horse’s head. And the family haven’t taken one penny from the Government in order to fund it.

It’s sad to think I probably wont live to see the sculpture completed.


“Crazy Horse is to be carved not so much as a lineal likeness, but more as a memorial to the spirit of Crazy Horse - to his people. With his left hand thrown out pointing in answer to the derisive question asked by a white man, "Where are your lands now?" he replied, "My lands are where my dead lie buried."

Korczak Ziolkowski, 1949

After soaking in all that culture, a good night out was definitely called for. I have to admit, I had my reservations about Deadwood. Although it was a Friday night, the town was quiet and the main street was dominated by casinos. After I dabbled at Black Jack and promptly lost $20, a big group of us headed out and proceeded to take over a small karaoke bar halfway along the strip. It was a brilliant night. There was absolutely no shyness about getting up on the microphone, everyone was buying rounds of drinks and conversation flowed easily. On the way back from the bathroom I felt a rush of emotion when I looked up to the stage and everyone was singing our tour song, ‘The Anthem’ by Good Charlotte. Then something that only ever happens in the movies happened...

Steph and I were stood at the bar and I ordered two glasses of wine. The barman poured the drinks and as I went to hand over the cash he shook his head and smiled before saying, “The guy at the end of the bar would like to pay for those.”

Our gaze was directed towards the sleazy looking, podgy bloke propping up the bar, who gave us a cheeky wink as we caught his eye. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the next thing I knew somebody was slinging a shot of whisky down the bar for me to catch as the barman wiped tops with a checked cloth.

It was cool and very Wild West but we avoided the ‘generous’ man like the plague for the rest of the night.

As the bar started to fill up a little with hairy cowboys wearing vests, the girls and I dazzled the audience with our rendition of Britney’s, ‘Im not a girl, not yet a woman’, danced to hip hop classics and fell into bed just after midnight in preparation for another long driving day.

Sioux Falls - Another place, another embarrassing episode

Following an overnight stay in Madison, Wisconsin, where they don’t serve alcohol after 9pm and the dusty roads and rickety gas stations look like they could feature in Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’, we were headed for Sioux Falls.

We had seen some of the world’s major cities like Boston, Toronto and Chicago, but we were leaving the cosmopolitan and getting back to nature.

Sioux Falls was just a one-night stop over and after visiting Falls Park, which lies on the Big Sioux River, we headed for the coolest hotel ever.

The Ramada Inn was home to the Buccaneer Water Park which had hot tubs, waterslides, huge pools and even a pirate ship. After a hurried dinner we all piled into the hot tubs, vodka and lemonade in hand and relaxed the evening away.

I stayed in the hot tub a little too long, not realising just how hot it actually was. When Steph suggested we go on the water slide I hurriedly jumped from the tub and started making my way up the spiral staircase. I was probably about half way up when a very strange, dizzy feeling came over me. My vision blurred and I couldn’t hear. I thought, ‘Shit, I’m going to faint. How frigging embarrassing.’ I had visions of lifeguards attempting to carry my lifeless body down the cramped staircase. Luckily I managed to get back down the stairs with Steph’s help, consciousness intact. The worst thing was, everyone thought I had wimped out at the top and was too scared to go on the slide, as if!

An hour later we were tucked up in bed and looking forward to seeing the iconic Mount Rushmore the following day.

Chicago - All That Jazz

Chicago was a very impressive city to drive into. The sky was clear and although it had been a long driving day, I was totally alert and glancing from window to window, trying to take it all in. To my right was Lake Michigan, glistening beneath the sail boats and flanked by pristine beaches. On the left it was a stark contrast of majestic office buildings and residential apartments, separated by lush parks and fountains. I couldn’t wait to explore the city.

We rarely stopped throughout the tour and after quickly settling into the hotel, we were heading out for dinner. We ate at a gorgeous little Italian place and later that evening took the bus into town to see the nightlife.

The bar we went to was everything I wanted to expect from a bar in Chicago. The exposed brick walls were draped with fairy lights and the deep mahogany floor and bar areas gave it a dingy and cosy ambience. A raised area held a pool table and juke boxes and the busty barmaids were free pouring to disastrous effect. The girls and I chatted to tourists from New York, Canada and Ireland, everyone was in high spirits and the evening passed in a haze of dancing, laughing and too much Jack Daniels.

The next morning I walked for over an hour from the hotel into the centre of Chicago to meet the girls. It was good to see more of the residential areas, the leafy suburbs and streets lined with quirky little cafes and shops. A lot of the houses had stoops, or 'small staircases leading to the entrance of an apartment or building' and the whole place reminded me of that Nickelodeon cartoon, ‘Hey Arnold!’

I had no map, but in the distance I could see the 100-storey John Hancock Center, so I walked towards it and hoped for the best. I met the girls and they decided to go to the top of the building, but feeling a little fragile, I opted to stay within the grounds. I thought I might wander around the coffee shops and boutiques. However, I had made the unfortunate decision to wear a dress that day. They don’t call Chicago ‘the windy city’ for nothing and I found myself trapped in some kind of wind tunnel desperately trying to uphold my dignity amongst the smirking, trouser-clad locals. All I could do was sit on some freezing cold steps with the pigeons and wait 40 minutes for the girls to get back to act as my shield. Not the best start but I had a great day none-the-less.

We laughed a lot that day, Christina, Steph, Lisa and I. Everything from Steph’s snapped flip flop to our plans to form the next world famous girl group cracked us up.

After a brief sunbathe in the park, we headed to Buckingham Fountain, a public icon of Chicago. The wrought bronze sculpture was beautiful and every hour there is a light and water display with the centre jet being able to shoot water up to 150 feet in the air. We had ice cream and real lemonade and chilled in the sun. We didn’t stay too long though as some strange, smiley tourist was taking pictures of us with his long lens camera.

Chicago was a little different to the other cities we had visited, because although it had the tall, impressive buildings, it seemed to have much more open space, more light and really individual little quirks. Such as ‘Cloud Gate’, nicknamed ‘the bean’ and the centrepiece of Millennium Park. The sculpture reflects Chicago’s skyline, giving us great photo opportunities and I think we enjoyed looking at our morphed reflections as much as the kids did. Chicago’s recreational areas had a much more digital and futuristic theme compared to anywhere else I have seen and it seemed like a city that had something for everyone.

As the sun was going down we were in Macy’s being sold expensive beauty products by the most over enthusiastic, typically American sales woman I have ever met. She looked and spoke like a Stepford Wife and before we knew it we were ‘throwing our negative energy out of the door and onto the street’, comparing the softness of each other’s hands and trying to contain the urge to laugh in her face and run out of the shop. We were being given the hard sell, but luckily it wasn’t long before we were skipping out of the shop laden with free samples, exhausted but happy. My main regret about Chicago was not being persistent enough to make it to Oprah's studios. They were a short commute away but I decided to stay in the city. And I call myself her No1 Fan...

Happy Times on the Bus

We spent 23 days travelling across North America and I would say that on average we spent maybe 30 hours a week on the Contiki coach. Naturally, it became our second home.

Coach trips were a chance to do a lot of thinking and I am still unsure as to whether that was a good thing or not. I spent a lot of time going over past experiences, lost loves, old friends and future prospects. I gained a new perspective on situations that I thought were dead and buried and I realised I know a couple of people who deserve my apologies.

Coach trips were also a chance to get to know people, have a laugh and take in the beautiful scenery. They were an opportunity to catch up on sleep, recover from a hangover, read and learn to love new songs. My crew and I would often grab the back seats which had more leg room and settle in for eight-hour stints. It wouldn’t be long before the daily iPod wars started.

Some people at the front were partial to none stop Bon Jovi, our tour manager liked obscure rock music and we just wanted to some easy listening R&B or Motown. It’s amazing how much emotion music choice can stir up in people and we would often just resort to shouting things towards the front or swapping the iPods when no one was looking. Childish but so much fun.

Some driving stints were just spent taking it in turns with Brendan to choose songs from his iPod, playing each other on phone scrabble or talking about our lives back home. I found it fascinating hearing where other people had grown up and how their childhoods had differed from mine.

Another part of the coach journeys were the rest stops. We would generally be let loose on a range of fast food restaurants. I swear if I never see another Wendy’s, Arby’s or Denny’s again it will be too soon. I could easily live without Walmart too. I once spent nearly the whole lunch hour searching for a sandwich, that place is unnecessarily huge. But anyway, the stops were spent sunbathing and chatting - and sharing a whole roast chicken in a car park has never felt more natural.

Cleveland - Rockin' and Rollin'

We waited a long time at Niagara to cross the border back into the States and I was nervous. I had visions of customs making me stay in Canada, having to wave off the coach before flying straight to Fiji alone. I was made to get off the coach and fill out my new Green Card form, have my photograph and fingerprints taken and pay a small fee. Nobody cracked a smile and I decided then and there that customs staff are the most stern people you will ever meet.

We were headed for Cleveland, Ohio, home to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The museum sits on the shores of Lake Erie and is dedicated to recording the history of artists and producers who have influenced the music industry, particularly in the area of rock and roll. I was just sat here wondering why Cleveland was chosen as the place to host the museum, but then my friend Google told me it’s because Cleveland is where disc jockey Alan Freed first used the term, ‘Rock and Roll’. Just in case you were interested. That might come in handy at a pub quiz or something, never know.

We had a couple of hours to wander around the impressive building and I particularly liked looking at the famous outfits of the stars. Elegantly preserved were Madonna’s infamous cone chested corset, Michael Jackson’s silver glove and Elvis Presley’s leather, rhinestone encrusted jumpsuit. One glass cabinet held handwritten Sex Pistol’s lyrics with parts scribbled out and I loved looking at John Lennon’s school reports and handmade Easter and Christmas cards to his parents. He seemed like a very funny and loving child, and it was obvious he was gifted with words even from a young age. It was sad to see his blood stained circular glasses in the next cabinet along.

That evening a few of us chilled in one of the guy's rooms and got to know each other some more. I also remember it as one of the first times we socialised with people from the other Contiki bus. This particular North America tour had been so popular that two buses were hired to do the trip side by side. The other bus had their own tour manager and we often saw them at the hotels and various rest stops. One thing that does stick in my mind is Lisa, Carl, Brendan and I being given dating advice by a bloke from the other bus who's t-shirt read, ‘I'm not a gynaecologist, but I'll take a look.’ A catch, no doubt.

Niagara Falls - A Rather Negative Post

I recall having a hangover on the morning we drove to Niagara Falls, but I don’t think that had anything to do with how incredibly underwhelmed I felt towards this iconic landmark. We pulled up in the coach and Niagara Falls was like a big hole in the ground surrounded by casinos and chain restaurants. It reminded me of Blackpool. We queued up wearing blue ponchos and waited to be ushered onto the ferry to get a closer look. It was too organised to feel magical, too touristy. I don’t know what I had imagined, but it wasn’t this. I don’t mean to sound unappreciative because after all, I was seeing the one and only Niagara Falls and part of me wishes I could be gushing about how my life changed that day, but it didn’t. It was pretty and I was interested to hear that a six year-old boy fell down it and survived, but I was keen to get off the boat and get a Diet Coke.

It was incredibly hot that day and we were left stranded for a couple of hours following the trip to the waterfalls. A few of us, including the lovely Christina, a fellow Brit, chilled on the grass eating frozen yoghurt, chatting and listening to music on Brendan’s mobile phone. It was cool, and our little group was forming.

Toronto Party Time

The first thing I remember about Toronto is almost being run over – the roads are crazy! The Green Man flashes but cars still go. After a brief argument with a driver I eventually got to the other side and cried. But anyway...

Toronto is the largest city in Canada and for all you movie buffs out there, Toronto is often used as a set double for New York City because of its close resemblance, creating a much cheaper alternative for producers. So that gives you an idea of what Toronto looks like.

It was another early start and we all set off into the city at around 8am. Nearly everyone else was going up the CN Tower. I wasn’t. I know it ‘dominates the Toronto skyline’ and ‘it’s really bloody good’ but I don’t do views and I was feeling particularly stingy that day, so I wandered off into the city alone.

While searching for an internet café, a young man directed me towards the other end of the street where he said there were lots. We got chatting and he introduced himself as Dana, a gay puppet artist, originally from Vancouver. He was very small with piercing blue eyes, a shaved head and crooked teeth. He wore a burgundy cord jacket with ripped jeans and the huge backpack and guitar he was carrying dwarfed him. I soon learned that Dana had been travelling for 15 years and everything he owned, he was holding. Dana had sold all of his belongings a few years back and had given the money to a poor family in Tanzania. He lived day-to-day, sleeping in squats, hostels and on friends’ sofas. And he seemed really happy.

Now I don’t think I could ever live the same kind of life as Dana, I do at some point want to get my career back on track and have a cute family, but he got me thinking about all the ‘stuff’ in my life. Packed up in boxes in England I have so many useless pairs of shoes, necklaces in every colour, hair products, trinket boxes and old workbooks. I even have a collection of tiny (and very pretty) notepads that are too small to even write anything in! I realised that the only things I actually cared about were my diary and my camera, everything else could be replaced.

It’s actually quite liberating to live out of a backpack. No more, which-shoes-for-this-dress dilemmas because I only have one pair to choose from - and, when it comes down to it, does anyone really care? I’m definitely going to have a clear out when I get back and I will certainly think twice before reaching for that Limited Edition lipgloss in the future.

Anyway, back to Toronto. I met up with the rest of the guys and we spent the day testing out the various parks, wandering around the shops and just soaking in as much of Toronto as possible in the space of one day. It’s kind of like New York, just minus the high blood pressure and the slow-moving tourists on every corner. Personally I appreciated the independent and whacky shops and street art that I found after saying my goodbyes to Dana.

Toronto did not disappoint on the nightlife either. That evening we all piled onto the big yellow ‘Party Bus’ for a pub crawl of Toronto’s hottest night spots. We started the night in a cool little Irish bar where Glenn, one of the Aussies on the tour, did a delightful rendition of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ and then we sampled a dingy Rock Bar and a more mainstream club. We had an insane leader who kept screaming, “I LOVE MY LIFE!” and we all chanted along with him while driving home in a drunken stupor. Unfortunately, in the early hours of the next morning we would be losing some of the group, who were off to explore more of Canada. We said our goodbyes in the hotel lobby and went off to bed. It was one of the best nights out I've ever had.

Montreal drowning

Jet boating on Montreal’s Lachine Rapids was both exhilarating and painful. We all got kitted out in thick jumpers, plastic jumpsuits, life jackets and ponchos and piled into the jet boats.

I thought the outfits were a little excessive at first, but I was thankful for my four layers after the first wave smacked me in the face.

Apparently the best (or worst) place to sit is at the front, so naturally I got as close to the front as possible, managing to scramble onto the second row next to my friend Carl from Liverpool. We chatted and laughed as the boat sped towards the rapids and I vaguely remember the guide saying something about making sure you put your head down and hold on as the boat crashes against a wave. I wish I would have listened more carefully, because the rapid known as the Hawaii 5 'O' nearly took me out. The wave hit me in the face so hard that my head was thrown back and my throat and ears were completely filled with water. There wasn’t much time to recover from this near neck breaking experience before we hit the next set of rapids. We were literally thrown from our seats and left up to our knees in freezing water.

The whole thing lasted for about one hour and it was amazing. I was quite ill that evening, maybe partially drowned, but it was worth it and nothing that a little Ear-Ex couldn’t fix.