couldn't think of an interesting title. sorry

and so the story continues in Cairns... (sorry for the delay)

Martin as usual was being a skank and refusing to spend any money, so it was left to me - along with Frankie our Cornish beauty, Jordan Croft 'son of Lara', and Andreas the Viking - to brave rafting on the Tully river. The barbecue lunch alone would have been worth the 200-odd bucks it cost us, but the rafting had us both laughing and fearing for our lives for 5 extreme hours. I was the only one of us to get thrown out of the raft, but funnily enough nobody noticed me desperately clawing myself back on-board as they struggled to get a German girl out of the water on the other side of the boat.

Our evenings in Cairns were mostly spent in a club called Woolshed, or, in my case, outside of it. It seems Tony the bouncer who looked a bit like Malfoy from Harry Potter didn't take a liking to me or Andreas, especially when we refused to pay for 4 extortionate tequila shots at the bar. Aside from winding him up to the point of having the police called, and trying to sneak back in dressed as a pirate, we managed to walk away with a free camper van hire for a week thanks to my talents in the 'wet jock' competition. God knows how i won. I didn't even know i had or what the prize was until Frankie brought the voucher outside. We had a week in the van and had to drop it in Brisbane, which was perfect given how that's where our flight to Fiji departed from anyway.

Despite having a slightly disturbing image of a kangaroo touching itself indecently on one side, we warmed to our van quickly. Percy would be its name.

After emotional goodbyes to our 3-week-long travelling buddies (Harry, Tom, Frankie, Beau, Jordan and Andreas), myself, Martin and Rosie - who we'd met back in Hervey Bay - set off down the Bruce Highway. The next three days were spent driving down deserted highways, pulling up for lunch in the sugar cane fields, clearing the roads of cows on the way to remote waterfalls, and cooking noodles out the back of the van on the dimly lit street corners of quiet coastal towns. Not showering and wearing the same clothes for half a week wasn't a problem at all. Being in the camper van was our first chance to see the real Australia; the in-between out-of-town places where we swore we hadn't driven past another set of headlights for hours at a time.

Rosie was dropped off at Rainbow Beach, and later that day we rolled into Brisbane for the last leg of our Australian chapter. There we were re-united with three girls from our Asian tour: Laura, Emma and Lauren. And hot showers. And real beds. And alcohol...
Enough alcohol that Emma managed to cripple her ankle/foot whilst drunkenly imitating her already crippled friend in front of half the club. Oh, and i will never eat oats and yoghurt again. Scottish people must be mental.

...Martin will never see a disabled toilet in the same way. Sorry, private joke.

So we bummed around in Brisbane for 2 or 3 days taking Percy for the odd spin, hoping not to pick up a parking ticket. Of course we did though, literally hours before we dropped the van back at the depot. Ah well we thought, we'll be out of the country in a few hours. No follow-up e-mails or phone calls as yet...

What would travelling be without a little disorganisation? That was our optimistic outlook on missing our flight to Fiji by approximately 12 hours and having to spend a night in the airport. If it wasn't for 'Stavros' - don't think that was his real name, but he looked Greek - the cleaner throwing a strop as we hit 50 yard football passes to each other across the departure lounge, it could have been a really fun night. As it was, we passed the time making a small fleet of paper aeroplanes and throwing them into the abyss, somewhere over Subway and Noodlebox.

Luckily we were moved onto a flight the next day for free, and boarded our flight to Nadi after a 20 hour stay in the airport. We looked at it as a free nights accommodation.

And so within a few hours the Gold Coast was behind us and we were checking in to our hostel in the capital on the Fijian mainland. 'BULA!' was the welcoming shout of pretty much every resident, each who also wanted a touch of our football and to know which teams we played for. The people of Fiji are definitely the most hospitable and welcoming we have come across, and the next 5 days we spent touring the islands we always felt a close bond with the locals.

The islands were as you would imagine; picturesque beaches and dramatic forest landscapes, the sea was crystal clear and the heat was intense. We spent days lazing in hammocks or cooling off in the sea or playing guitar with the staff, and in the evenings they never failed to put on a show, be it playing with fire or dressing up as woman and getting everyone to take part in the 'Bula' dance. We sat by a bonfire under the stars and would share stories with other travellers as the invisible tide rolled in and hissed against the sparks of the firewood.

Apologies for rambling on like a poet on mushrooms, i think the third helping of aeroplane food we asked for today might have messed up my head a little. So anyway, we pretty must just chilled in Fiji - the one and a half days of rain were slightly disappointing but we made up for it by finding 15 like-minded guys and starting an epic game of football. Martin sampled the traditional 'Carva' stimulant and tried to find enlightenment, but he later described it as 'drinking five cups of mud water and feeling tired.' So i didn't bother.

And so our story catches up with us here in Auckland, 4 hours after landing at the airport. All i can really say about New Zealand so far is that it's about 3 times as cold as anywhere else we've been, but the Subways are cheaper, and so is the alcohol. So i guess it bodes well. The day after tomorrow we start our Kiwi Experience bus tour, which we've heard from pretty much everyone we've met is amazing. And we can't wait to get going.

Maybe we won't be so lazy and will update this a bit sooner next time, i promise we'll try for those of you who read this.

I'll leave you with the tragic news that Martin - yes, he IS solely to blame - lost our precious football in arrivals at Auckland airport; we believe it's still riding the baggage reclaim conveyor belt as we speak. Muppet.

Right, goodbye for now.. we'll put some more nice words up here soon and you can translate them through your eyes and in your brain until you can make sense of what we've been doing. Seriously, plane food.

BYE BYE, stay safe
peace and love from Alex and the idiot who lost the ball.
xxx