Despite my Dad’s great disappointment Mark and I are not great followers of ‘the beautiful game’. It would however have felt rude to come to Buenos Aires, home of Maradonna, and not visit his first Club, Boca Juniors. Unfortunately the area of Boca makes Hillfields look like the land of the Telly-tubbies and everyone warns against coming here even in the day. Despite this however Mark, myself and our friend Dave decided we would venture there alone, with very little Spanish between us and try to buy tickets for the evening match. After being shouted at by the police that there we no tickets available we thought we’d just stand around and wait for the touts to approach us. Some of the dodgiest looking people ever tried to convince us to buy there highly inflated and probably fake tickets. We resisted and decided we’d head for a huge group of people which we assumed were the ticket queue. Unfortunately for us they were no queue, but what we now think were the crowd of the Barra Brava (Boca hardcore fans). Suddenly they started to surround us and I can honestly say that was the most edgy thing we’ve experienced on our whole trip. Grateful that we escaped with everything in tact we hot-footed it to the nearest cab and got drunk at a local expat bar that actually served beer in real pint glasses!
Mark, Not wanting to be beaten by this experience decided we would try again to buy tickets for the World Cup qualifier of Argentina v Columbia. It was far more successful this time at the River Plate stadium on the nicer side of town. Here the guards were super friendly and within 5 mins we walked away with 2 tickets for the match, paying the same as all the locals.
Mark had never seen a live a footie match before and this was certainly a great choice to ‘pop his cherry’. Although the football was pretty crappy there were loads of aggressive tackles and an amazing atmosphere both in and out of the stadium with drums, chanting and the occasional flare being let off in the Columbian colours.
We were both put slightly on edge by the enormous flags in the popular (Standing) area with images of the Malvidas with a union Jack on them and “Somos Argentina!” (”We are Argentina!”) brandished everywhere.
I was far more interested in watching the tiny dot of Maradonna (he’s the one hugging a Colombian player in a crowd of Argentina players on the pitch) than the match. He jumped about and got more irrate than anyone I have ever seen, especially when Argentina scored. It was really good fun and we’re really pleased we persevered in seeing a game. We even ventured back to Boca in the daytime with our own cabby that waited while we took some snaps of the ground and surrounding buildings.
BA is officially one of our favourite cities in the world and living here has been a real treat. We took a few free walking tours around the city to get a Porteno’s (locals) view of the history and politics of the place. Its impressive European architecture came form the days when Argentina was one of the wealthiest countries in the world and buildings from France, England, and Italy were taken apart, shipped over here and built again in some of the poshest neighbourhoods.
Since 2001 however things have gone somewhat ‘tits up’ for the Argentinians and through a series of bad political moves and poor financial investments their wealth has severely depleted. Consequently now several of the really amazing buildings have been left to decay without the funds to kick out the squatters and restore them. There are many beggars here and quite a bit of graffiti but neither of these problems come even close to the issues they face with dog poo. Everyone has a dog and no one clears up their offerings. If someone were to introduce pooper scoopers here they’d be minted. Suprisingly Mark who is normally a magnet to dog poo was beaten to the post by me, who slightly the worse for beer skidded in a fresh pile and spent most of the following day trying to remove it from the intricate sole of my trainers.
Casa Rosada (The pink house) their version of Downing street was open to the public at the weekend so we had a very informative tour all in Spanish, where we just nosed around the impressive interiors while everyone else I’m sure learned lots from the guide in his funny uniform.
The Islas Malvinas (Faulklands for us Brits) monument (red wall with guards) was interesting to visit and have the war explained from an Argentinian point-of-view. We now understand how all of those American backpackers must have felt travelling in Vietnam.
The flower sculpture was really impressive and opens and closes daily with the sun light. Mark’s Rocky moment on the steps of the law school was clearly a physical outburst from all the pent up energy he’s been storing whilst sitting and working the 9-5 for the last 4 weeks.
Australia seems to have been our base for such a big part of this trip that we couldn’t quite believe that this was the last time we would fly here. Cheap flights from Sydney to Buenos Aires were the reason for coming back and we thought we’d take this opportunity to come and harass Skanky for one last time. As hospitable as ever she let us crash at hers for a few days and even got me my favourite and much missed pasta and pesto for our first night’s dinner. The weather was great and we visited our old haunts and even ventured up onto the roof of Skank’s building for great views over Bondi.
The flight to BA was luxurious with extra leg room seats and telling anyone who’d listen that it was our honeymoon scored us several servings of champagne. Despite watching 5 movies and many documentaries I hadn’t exhausted the choice of in-flight entertainment and the 13 hours went far too quickly for my liking.
BA is a beautiful city with great historical architecture and a strong sense of culture. We explored the Sunday flea markets in the oldest part of town which were fantastic with local crafts, food, drink and street performers. We walked what felt like the entire city trying to suss out the neighbourhoods we fancied living in for the next month while Mark does a bit more work to earn the money for this last leg of the trip. Staying in a homestay for a few days was really useful to pick the brains of the other english guys that had been here for several months. We are now however happily installed in our lovely little 1 bed apartment in the Palermo Soho area of town.
We could have stayed on Gilli Air for longer than our 6 day stint but time was running out and there was more of Lombok to discover. We were heading to another Kuta, this time hoping it would be nothing like it’s namesake in Bali. The drive there was spectacular with lush green hills and a succession of hidden idyllic beaches with rolling surf. This was promising as our destination was supposed to be ideal for learning to become gnarly surf dudes. We shared our hotel with a lovely bunch of Aussie surfers who adopted us into their group and showed us the ropes. They also set us up with an instructor who after a 30 second demonstration put us on a boat and sent us out to a rather large reef break. It was scary and knackering but we both managed to get to our feet a couple of times, Mark rather more stylish than me. As usual my sea legs failed me and I had to stop surfing every now and again to puke…thanks for those inherited genes mum!
After surfing we chilled out in the hotel pool and wandered along the beach watching to locals collect their dinner from the rock-pools. I finally ignored my dad’s voice of caution in my head and let Mark get a motorbike and we had a great time razzing all over the place visiting some of the most stunning beaches of our trip.
In the evening we joined some of the ausssies and local surfers and sang song and drank rice wine in the village. The day we left was market day and we had a mooch around the stalls selling everything from raw tobacco to machetes. Our 5 hour ferry ride back to Bali was thankfully calm and went by quicker than expected, assisted by guessing games of what odd food combinations would be in the wrapped banana leaves we had bought prior to leaving.
A chilled out night in Padangbai was necessary to recover from the journey and then we were on our way to our final destination of Tuban. Recommended by the aussies as the less shitty neighbour to Kuta. Here we stocked up on dodgy DVDs and made good use of the flash pool in our neighbouring hotel. we found a fantastic restaurant who served excellent Nasi Campur and played great music. We bugged them so much about what the music was they presented us with a copied CD on our last night. We have loved coming back to Indonesia and can’t believe this our last stop in Asia.
Paradise again! The standard for idyllic beach destinations had been set pretty high after visiting Fiji but we are pleased to report the Gili islands, just off Lombok, didn’t disappoint. Taking the high speed boat from Bali over to Gili Trawangen we were lazing by the side of the turquoise sea in no time. Trawangen is the largest of the three islands and though it has a small local population it is the most developed for tourists. This is good when you want to use free wifi, eat western junk food and watch latest cinema releases in private beach-side cinemas, but no so good when you want to pretend you are Robinson Crusoe. Cycling around the island we found a few quiet spots to chill out in with a steady supply of Bintang beer but after a few nights we were ready to head over to Gili Air for a more relaxed pace.
On Gili Air we checked into a smart new Italian owned placed right on the sea front and spent the next five days chilling in our own luxury beach hut and taking on their all-you-can-eat breakfasts. With so few tourists and a cystal clear sea we decided to put our recent scuba diving training into action; I signed up for an advanced dive course and Helen a fun dive. Despite having a very ropey time in Thailand, Helen now dives like a mermaid. The flat sea, wonderful visibility and giant turtles must have helped with the transformation. Since I was taking a course it was back to the books for an hour or so each day to learn about navigation, buoyancy, deep and night dives. Each skill was then put into practice under the guidance of my private instructor and diver-extraordinare Tony. Our time spent hanging out with the Blue Marlin guys was great and the diving was amazing, especially the night dive into the pitch black sea!
Temporarily leaving Australia behind we set off back to Indonesia for some serious relaxation in Bali and Lombok. Arriving late in the hustle of Kuta we quickly settled into our old Asian routine of hotels, cheap beer and eating out three times a day. So long to camping and self catering!
Kuta isn’t particularly great unless mountains of counterfeit goods and a dirty beach are your idea of a good time. The only part of town not drowning in tack is the sobering memorial to victims of the 2002 terrorist attacks here. This is why all the smart kids head straight to the unfortunately titled Waterbom waterpark; Kuta’s saving grace. With loads of rides, no queues and endless sunshine we were in our element. After six weeks of driving around all day we got some much needed exercise climbing steps up to the rides, again and again and again.
Unfortunately all good things must end as we bade farewell to Waterbom and headed north to Ubud, the cultural centre of Bali. With temples, artists and musicians galore we spent a couple of days nosing around town and took a long and sweaty walk into the surrounding countryside. As Bali is a predominately Hindu island the many familiar deities and puja offerings bought memories of our trip to India flooding back.
Our next stop was a relatively short drive to the Aboriginal owned Kakadu National Park. It was here that we met the ‘Prostrate Posse’, a bunch of bikers that were part of a huge group riding in convoy up through the Northern Territory fund-raising and promoting awareness of prostrate cancer. The guys sort of adopted us and forced us to drink beer with them, swear a lot and sleep in their spare Air Conditioned room. The tent was already pitched but the offer was too good to refuse so we had our best nights sleep since Coober Pedy. God knows we needed it as we were up at the crack of dawn for a sunrise Yellow River Crocodile cruise. It was jam-packed with wildlife especially in the form of crocs and birds. We apologise to any twitchers reading but we can’t remember any of the names. All I know is that my favourite was the tiny bird with the huge feet, look closely on the lily pad.
From one National park to another this time Litchfield. Here we trekked to amazing aboriginal rock art sites and swam in some beautiful swimming holes beneath waterfalls . We drove past several areas of bush that were being burnt in line with aboriginal traditions of regeneration for the land. We also came across a great deal of wildlife; the fury wallabies were most welcome, the spiders, particularly the yellowish one on our tent, were not.
It felt quite monumentous to finally arrive in Darwin - our final destination on this epic drive. As a treat for slumming it in the tent we got a cheapy deal at a posh hotel and lived it up for a few nights. The Australia version of Travelodge was quite different to the one hidden behind the petrol station on the A444. Here we had a swanky room, cable and two different swimming pools to chose between. Our camping gear had served us well, however would not be needed in Indonesia; our next destination and the land of dirt-cheap accommodation. Fear not though the gear went to a good home, as we donated it to charity mate, for the next larrikins that plan to tackle the explorer’s way!
From Alice Springs we had another massive drive to Katherine so decided to break things up with an overnight stop in Wycliffe Well, UFO sighting capital of Australia. We didn’t see any flying saucers, but we got a glimpse of the Devil’s Marbles. Arriving at sunset these giant balls of rock glowed orange and felt like a prop from the Flintstones. At night we kept an eye open for E.T but he was probably scared away by the near-riot between rival Aboriginal groups outside the camp site.
Further on at Mataranka we took a dip in Bitter Springs, so call because of the water’s taste. Floating downstream along with the strong current we couldn’t stop thinking that a huge crocodile was about to slide into the water with us despite being advised it was perfectly safe. Every time we heard some reeds twitch we’d speed up a bit and you can imagine our relief to reach the end and climb out.
Finally arriving at Katherine we were a bit disappointed/alarmed to find out that all kayaking along the gorge was suspended due to a ‘croc survey’. Since the wet season was approaching its end, it’s possible for crocodiles to get trapped there as the water recedes, leaving them to dine exclusively on tourists 
. Our disappointment was short lived however upon hearing that we’d arrived in time to catch a horse-hustlin’, bronko-bashing, rootin-tootin rodeo! We can assure you that despite appearances the cowboys were full-size and not midgets.
As we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn we were pleased to find the swarms of moisture hungry flies were starting to ease off. Unfortunately, we now had the plague of 24 hour oppressive heat to endure. At Uluru we were sleeping in thermals, silk liners and sleeping bags, now we were butt-naked and still sweating buckets. With some inspired thinking from the Mataranka camp’s groundsman we purchased a big pedestal fan and created the ‘Air-con tent’ envy of all other campers across the Northern Territory!
Although we were driving far too close to the camper van in the last photo, it was necessary to capture the motto that we thought our parents especially would appreciate.
Leaving Uluru behind us we continued on the road north to Alice Springs, passing endless desert and the occasional roadhouse for pit stops. After spending a few days camping in the outback, Alice Springs seemed like the height of sophisticated civilisation, the perfect place to restock our dwindling supplies. With fast-food joints and typical Aussie brand shops it felt like any other Australian town, just thousands of kilometres from anything like it in every direction.
Surrounded by cattle farms and isolated communities, Alice Springs pioneered some now famous public services to help people living in remote areas. We paid visits to both the ‘School of the Air’ and the ‘Flying Doctors’. The school used to broadcast lessons by radio to students who’d communicate back using their own pedal-powered radios. P.E and Maths at the same time! But in the 21st century they only use live video streams over the internet. Check out the Rolf-a-roo on the wall, classic Harris.
We saw a lot more Aborigines in Alice Springs, probably half of the population. Quite a contrast to virtually every other place we’d visited in Australia so far and a refreshing sight.
We celebrated our first wedding anniversary in style at Coober Pedy; living inside an old opal mine shaft. No, we haven’t resorted to squatting just yet, this is how the residents here survived the intense heat by living underground where it remains relatively cool. This place is famous for producing 70% of the world’s opals and is a free for all, so anyone can come and have a go at mining. The result is a very multicultural society with over 30 nationalities, but the downside is that as far as the eye can see there are mounds of dirt where everyone has tried their luck. We visited a great Serbian underground church, but nothing was a patch on our lovely little pad that we splashed out on for our anniversary treat. We had a great time fossicking in the day, braving the biblical plagues of flies that have covered most of the outback we’d seen so far. At night we cooked our steaks on a roaring log fire under an amazing blanket of stars and toasted surviving our first year in tact!
The drive to Uluru was a killer and we felt quite insignificant arriving at the camp site being the only little car in a mass of 4×4 trucks. We were anticipating great things from the “resort” we’d seen advertised but it was basic beyond belief, we couldn’t even boil water for our emergency pot noodles. Uluru at sunset was beautiful despite some clouds and the following day, along with our entourage of flies we explored its different faces. Unlike some ignorant prats we did not climb the rock in respect of Aboriginal culture. Leaving Uluru we made a brief stop at the Olgas, but after Mark had to spit out several flies we headed back to the car for the drive to Kings Canyon. He was thankful he didn’t swallow the fly as swallowing a massive Aussie spider to go after it wasn’t a very inviting prospect.
We got up at the crack of dawn, when the flies and temperature we more bearable, to take a walk through King’s Canyon. The scenery was spectacular with deep gorges, pancake rocks, sheer cliff edges and amazing views of the surrounding desert. Knackered and very sweaty we arrived back at the car and continued on through to outback heading for Alice Springs.
