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.