Are we there yet???

Our 3 days in LA can be summed up in a single activity: shopping. And you don’t take photos of shopping. So, instead of giving you an LA-related blog with a naff title such as “freeways, silicon and sunset tans”, we thought we’d give you our thoughts on what we consider to be the highlights of our 2007 world tour.

So - after 4 ½ months, 17 countries, 47 different beds, 12 different languages (spoken at us not by us!), 44 flights, 7 hire cars, 3100 metres climbed, 19 novels, 72 episodes of Desperate Housewives and a constant awe at the world God created (how much better will heaven be?!) - our backpacking (ok, ok,“flashpacking”) tour has come to an end. And here’s what was, for us, the best of the best:

(NB. we decided to include Morocco in our line-up, as it was supposed to be part of this trip only we got so tired of the London drizzle we went at Easter)

Best “Wow Factor”
1. Machu Picchu, Peru
2. Patagonian glaciers, Argentina
3. The Desert, Morocco (see below for pic!)
4. Cappadocia, Turkey

Best 2-week holiday destination
1. Argentina
2. Jamaica
3. Morocco

Best city
1. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
2. New York City, USA

Best for history
1. Jordan
2. Rome, Italy

Best for food
1. Jamaica
2. Argentina
3. Greece
4. Rosie & Don’s place, Belfast, Northern Ireland

Best for chilling
1. Negril, Jamaica
2. Hvar Island, Croatia

Most surprisingly-good
1. Dead Sea, Jordan
2. Athens, Greece
3. Iguazu Falls, Argentina

Most underwhelming :-(
1. Istanbul, Turkey
2. Lake Titicaca, Peru
3. Buenos Aires, Argentina

The End of Our Blog
Thank you for reading to the End of Our Blog. We have finished our trip and are enjoying getting settled into life in Sydney. There are no more posts. You must now turn off your computer and go do something productive. Go read a book, for pete's sake ;-)

Love Rory and Amy

Good Belfast, Goodbye (for now!)

After 2 weeks of Caribbean revelry it was time to fly back to Sydney – the long way. From Cuba across the Atlantic to Belfast (via London) and then back across the Atlantic AGAIN to LA (via London) before finally staying in one direction long enough to touch down Down Under. Yes, we know – complicated.

Fortunately, there were upsides to this plan other than just clocking up the air miles. First off, we got to spend some more time in Belfast with Rosie and Don, and enjoy cozy Northern Ireland for the last time in a little while.

Our few days included a dinner with Rory’s friends from school days (Rick and Rosie, Simon and Estelle), which involved delicious food and wine and - much later on in the evening - a mysteriously appearing jenga board and karaoke machine (fortunately we don’t have photographic evidence of the latter)…



a family bash hosted by Rosie and Don which involved a stack of food and rellies en masse…

and some early Christmas presents for us (those are oven gloves by the way)!

The Mojito Revolution

As we only had 3 days to spare before jetting to Belfast for a big farewell and a final pack-up, our visit to Cuba was far too fleeting and our observations of this enthralling and complicated country are going to be somewhat limited! Given that we had our dose of Caribbean beaches and countryside on our tour of Jamaica, we decided to stick to the capital city, Havana.
To us, visiting Havana was a bit like stepping into a time-warp. Being the communist state of the Caribbean and significantly crippled by the US trade embargo, many characteristics of Havana seem frozen in the past – the classic American cars, horse-drawn carriages, colonial Spanish and Art Deco architecture, dudes with moustaches smoking cigars and locals hanging out on their nineteenth-century doorsteps.
While it was easy to get immersed in this “oldy worldy” vibe (not to mention the Latin music, dance, art and mojitos!) the highly bureaucratic one-party state certainly gave this country an unfamiliar twist (for example, the 2-hour rigmarole of getting a certificate from the government in order to be allowed to take a souvenir painting out of the country with us!).

Still, we have to admit there was something endearing about ending the “exotic travel” part of our trip in a city where the words “hustle and bustle” are simply not part of the vocabulary.

Legend in my own lunchbox

Whilst travelling the North Coast of Jamaica, it’s easy to kid yourself into thinking that you are some sort of a celebrity.

For example, our first stop was Blue Lagoon, where fourteen-year-old nymphet Brooke Shields frolicked around in the nude in the movie of the same name and where Tom Cruise showed us his drink mixing aerial stunts in “Cocktail”. Although I wasn’t about to attempt an impersonation of either of those scenes, it was difficult not to feel like a movie star as we cruised around the set on a bamboo raft and took a dip in the lagoon itself.

After a quick stop at Boston Bay (where jerk meat originated and where you can see some surfing Rastas)…
…we headed to the outskirts of the (very touristy) resort town of Ocho Rios to big brother Roger’s place, Pearly Beach. Oh. My. Gosh. Set on its own private beach (complete with bonfire so you can spend the whole night sipping Red Stripe and watching the crashing waves if you’re up for it), and surrounded by bush, this beach “shack” is so secluded even the paparazzi would have difficulty getting a shot of it (which must be why – between you, me and the lamppost – we’ve been told that a certain very-skinny-supermodel-who-shall-remain-nameless chose to rent this place as her Jamaican hideaway, and why I’ve been seen scouring the place for a stray hair to sell on Ebay). So, please allow me to indulge in 48 hours of feeling like a movie star, before I am forced to come crashing back to the reality of working in a law firm where even my supervising partner will no doubt have difficulty remembering my name. Sigh.

And so, the time has come for us to depart Jamaica (until the pull of sun, sea and family bring us back once again), but before we go I thought I’d leave you with an excerpt from my final lesson – how to climb a waterfall. The wide and magnificent Dunn’s River Falls is 600ft high and the water cascades over the rocks so fast (especially with 2 months of rainfall behind it) the climb is both scary and exhilarating. Fortunately I had Rory, who has climbed it many time before, to show me how it’s done.


P.S. I realise that in our last few posts the colossal Jamaican potholes and Red Stripe beer have both been getting a few mentions – here’s a snapshot of each:

Jamaica Blue

Before I knew what was happening, I was dragged out of my deck chair on snoozy Treasure Beach and thrust into the sprawling metropolis of Kingston – it seems that my next lesson was that there’s more to Jamaica than sand, sea and reggae.

After negotiating a few potholes the size of swimming pools, we arrived in Kingston and were greeted by Rory’s family. But before I could even utter the words “Red Stripe”, I was being taken on a little detour to the Blue Mountains, which tower behind Kingston, can be seen from anywhere on the eastern third of the island and are responsible for some of the best coffee in the entire world…mmmmm.

We started off with a lovely lunch at the magnificent Strawberry Hill Hotel, a former plantation with panoramic views of Kingston and the mountains, a lot of Bob Marley and U2 memorabilia and a pretty "irie" (that's Jamaican for good) swimming pool.

Shortly thereafter, I found my hiking boots strapped on once again (again!?) for my next challenge - Blue Mountain Peak. At 7402ft, it’s the highest point in Jamaica and simply stunning - thick woodlands dotted with coffee plantations and crowned with a romantic mist – and, after our guide Tiger had pumped us with Blue Mountain coffee, we were ready to climb almost anything!

A minor problem, though. Apparently it’s been bucketing down in Jamaica for the last 2 months (not to mention Hurricane Dean that swept through the country in August) and as a result, the trail was pretty… how can I put this?... mashed. What we thought was going to be a stroll through tranquil woodlands ended up being a scramble over rocks, tree trunks and newly formed “waterfalls”, and in some parts the trail itself had become a rushing stream!

As for the grand finale… ummm… it turned out that that “romantic” mist I was talking about before meant that the view from the top was slightly obscured – to the point where there was no view at all (clang!)! So after the 7 mile grueling effort without even the reward of a panoramic picture, Rory and I were feeling a little… blue?!

[This is where our photo from the top of Blue Mountain Peak should have been]

But not all was lost! We headed back to Kingston and had a big family gathering to look forward to. Rory’s brothers Rog and Colin (and his lovely wife Sharon and gorgeous kids) were showing us some hospitality Jamaican-style with a BBQ of jerk pork, chicken and all the trimmings. It was a great night!

Everyting irie in Jamaica

After over 3 months of meandering around the globe, it was time for me to get serious and be taught about a big part of Rory’s heritage, the country that is his birthplace and where numerous family members still reside – Jamaica (mon!).

Rory has planned a 10-day whirlwind tour around the country, and thought he’d start my education process with something straightforward and a little familiar – beaches. White sand, turquoise sea, swaying palm trees and a persistently warm Caribbean sea… I think I can handle that.

We started off on Jamaica’s western tip, on the seven miles of pristine sand at Negril – a chilled out resort town with remarkable sunsets, watersports, reggae, and restaurants.


Negril is also the home of Ricks Café – an establishment located right on the cliffs complete with a diving board from which the locals enjoy showing off their stunts and where Rory’s Jamaican boldness came through as he performed a few dives (show off!).

Once my insight into Negril was completed, we took a pot-holey car trip around the coast south to Treasure Beach. It’s got that rustic, off-the-beaten-track feel, and we owe a massive thanks to Rory’s big bro Roger for setting us up at the renowned Jake’s resort, where the waves were virtually splashing on our villa door…

Another challenge to which I have had to rise has been the sampling of Jamaican culinary delights, and I have been diligently working my way through a list of local cuisine with each meal.

The breakfast specialty is ackee and saltfish – ackee is actually a fruit but it looks and tastes a bit like slimy scrambled eggs, and saltfish is a fish that tastes salty. Then there’s jerked chicken and pork – the ultimate gourmet barbecue seasoned to perfection with Jamaican jerk sauce (which knocks the socks off any attempts of this dish that I’ve tasted in London) and accompanied by none other than an ice-cold Red Stripe. Conch soup, brown stew, lobster, tropical fruits and Jamaican rum cocktails have also been flowing freely (all in the name of my education, of course), yet there is still so much for me to try. Curried goat, for example. I’m nervous.


So, as our tour around the island continues, I’ll share with you a few more of my observations. But for now, as the waves are lapping at the feet of my deck-chair and the laid-back ethos exuded by the locals is starting to rub off on me, class dismissed.

Rio Rocks

Rio de Janeiro is known for many things – the statue of Christ on the hunchbacked peak of Corcovado, curving Copacabana beach, sunsets, Carnival, football and dangerous encounters resulting in the potential loss of a wallet – but, for us, the most distinct memory will be dangling on a rope and clinging for dear life onto a rock surface known as Pão de Açucar (Sugar Loaf mountain).


Perhaps our increased enjoyment of climbing things (eg. Wayna Picchu and the odd Patagonian glacier), and the fact that in her comment on our previous post Laura called us "outdoorsy", led to a moment of overconfidence. Which may explain what possessed us to declare boldly “cable cars are for wooses!” and sign ourselves up for a 400m rock climb to the summit. Before we had time to talk some sense into ourselves - weh-hey! - we were strapped to a rock face and wishing we’d paid more attention to those arm muscles during our gym-going years…

Well, as we’re not writing this blog while still dangling from that rope, it appears we made it to the top. Although maybe next time we’ll take the cable car like sensible people do (although where would the adrenalin be in that?).

Wet 'n' Wild Argentina

This week we’ve been from the far north of the country to the far south; from 30 degree heat to below freezing; from a rainforest packed with wildlife to a plateau of ice devoid of living creatures; from being pummeled by water from heights of 80 metres above to walking on water extending to depths of 120 metres below. To be a bit more specific, we’ve been from the waterfalls of Iguazu to the glaciers of Patagonia. Argentina certainly is a country with variety of landscapes.

Iguazu Falls are pretty mighty – they are 4 times wider than Niagara (it’s been said that Iguazu makes Niagara look like a trickling toilet, but we don’t think that’s quite fair…), and the tumbling water is set amongst orchids, palms, parrots, butterflies and a high cloud of mist which creates blazing rainbows. Just to make sure we got the picture, we decided to take a speed boat ride through the rivers below, which included a shocking soak when the boat went into the edge of the falls themselves!



After taking a flight to the far south of the country, we found ourselves in Patagonia, and the contrast couldn’t have been greater. We spent our time at the Perito Moreno Glacier, which rises above the water by about 60 metres and extends to about 120 metres underneath. It is also one of the fastest moving glaciers in the world, and we witnessed some pretty sizeable chunks of ice breaking off the side of the glacier and crashing into the water below.

Our appreciation of the glacier took place from beside it (there are wooden walkways set up around the edge)...

on top of it (when we participated in a challenging ice-trek on the surface)..... and within it (when we descended into some of the ice caves)!
Thankfully, the glacier decided not to re-live the spectacular rupture of March 2006 (when the pressure of the water broke through the ice and reopened the entire thing), and so we were spared the experience of becoming ice sculptures.