Refocusing

After landing a sweet job with a great marketing company in June, I then quit in September as the sweet job became a mind numbing call centre job for an IT company. Yep, same job, but somehow over 3 months, the job turned from Yeah! to Get me out of here!

So I did. I handed in my resignation, finished off my two weeks, and got the hell out.

Then I landed another sweet job- at Luna Park.

One week in, so far so good, well as good as carni's can be expected. I get screaming kids onto rides, spin them around fro two minutes, hope they don't vomit, then let them off again. All the while getting paid $20 an hour to do it.

But throughout all of this, I have been informed that I can graduate. I will receive a Bachelor of Arts, Media and Communication (Journalism) for three years of hardly much at all.

I just wish they could've helped us actually get a job. Somehow, just because I will have an official bit of paper, I don't think that makes me any closer to landing my dream job in journalism.

I am currently applying for a cadetship with the ABC news team, something I might label as pretty damn close to my dream job.

In the meantime, it's back to the carnival for me.

The one thing that I remember through it all, just keep saving, cos soon I'll be spending it on sangria and tapas in dive bars in Spain..

I keep visiting the airline website to book my flight to Spain and getting to the credit card details page, then chickening out. I need to know I am making a good decision, that I will be happy in Spain.

Who am I kidding, of course I will be! Book it!!

I've been bitten all over.

I've known it for a while, but now I've finally come to terms with the fact that I've been bitten all over, by the bug, the incurable travel bug.

It's in my hair, my skin, my eyes, even my blood. My blood races as the bug takes over, telling my brain I've been in one place too long, time to book another flight.

I think it was about 10 years ago I was first bitten. I was in Thailand and I was 13, my first taste of the foreign and the unknown. I guess looking back, there could have been many other bugs that bit me, but it was the travel bug that sunk it's teeth into my young naive, freckled skin.

Once spat at mothers who failed to control their wild young sons who roamed the world on a shoestring, the travel bug is now used to diagnose any situation from a retirees annual trip to Noosa, to those wanderers who have only a backpack to call home.

Out of the past four years I've spent more than half out of the country. Of that time, 98% has been spent in non-English speaking countries, and less than half in first world countries. I have taught myself two languages, rented a house, got a haircut, interviewed politicians, dealt with police, got lost, been found, been harassed and admired, all in foreign environments.

And I can't wait to get back and do it again.

I've been home just on four months. Not that long in the grand scheme of things, but to me it feels like years. After a slight hiccup once I returned home, I then found a job, rekindled friendships and regained what resembled a busy and exciting social schedule. Between social soccer, AFL games with family, gym classes, Spanish conversations, theatre nights, dinner parties and weekend escapes, I settled back into life in Australia.

On the surface anyway. Underneath I was lost, I was struggling to fit in, I no longer felt like I belonged. People were boring, the weather was shit, and work sucked. The once annoying question of "Where are you from?" became silenced, and I felt unloved. No one cared about my year away, the things I saw, the places I went or the people I met.

Except those that were there with me. When I think back to the time we camped in a Mexican woman's front lawn surrounded by roosters and a dozing grandmother, I chuckle to myself. When I remember swimming in a million year old river in the middle of the Sierra Madre desert, I smile. When I think of strolling across the Brooklyn Bridge, I reflect. When I think of sailing from Panama to Colombia for five days of hell, I shudder. And when I remember the utter destitude in Medellin, where 1 in 4 doesn't have a home, my heart leaps.

I want to live more experiences like this. I want to fill my mind with incredible memories and I want my dreams to become a reality.

But I wonder, what will happen to me? Will I ever find a cure for this bug? Will I ever become a homebody, content to visit a timeshare in Noosa every year?

Somehow I don't think so...

The exhausting job hunt

I've graduated from University with high marks, I've completed a challenging and interesting internship in Colombia and as well as a highly looked upon intership with the Sunday Herald Sun. I've got communication skills, writing skills and I'm a hard worker. I'm friendly, determined and curious to learn more....

SO GIVE ME A JOB!!

Over the past few weeks I've applied for far too many jobs, some I'm under-qualified for, some I'm over-qualified for and some I don't even really want. But I still can't get a break. I've had a job offer from Griffith (too far), and a rejection from Holbrook (where..?)

I read a similar story in the journalist's magazine Walkley's, where another young journalist found himself in a similarly dire situation trying to break into the Australian media industry. He even set up a blog about it, earning him media coverage and eventually helping him land a job at Crikey.com. Not bad. He put in nearly 2 months work and sent hundreds of resumes out. So I guess I should wait a few more weeks before I really start complaining.

But I guess it also helps sort out those who really want a journalism gig from those who just like the idea of journalism without the hard work.

Back to mycareer.com.au. Wish me luck!

Readjusting to the same old life..

After being away from home for 317 days you'd think things to change a little. But they never do.

The house is still the same, the weather cold and the prices of groceries still ridiculously high. My sister has the same boyfriend and my cat is still fat. There's a new cafe in the town, but theres still the same old fish and chip shop, IGA and movie cinema.

But there are still a lot of things I have had to get used to. Flushing toilet paper is now a novelty ( in Latin America you cannot flush toilet paper anywhere), drinking tap water thats tasty and clean is a privledge and not being exposed to Spanish in the streets, trains and shops is upsetting.

I really miss the vivid colours I got used to in Mexico and Colombia. The nylon outfits, the roadside food stalls and the local buses brought colour and vividness to Latin American cities. A stroll down the street was never boring.

I miss unhealthy snacks cooked in makeshift fryers and grills on trolleys, buckets or boxes.

I miss a one hour bus ride costing 50c and a five course meal just $3.

I miss the front pages of the newspapers showing a mass grave, a brutal murder, a government corruption scandal or a natural disaster. As shocking as these stories are, they actually deserve front page news. Here front page news is the PM might be getting married, a Dutch backpacker returns to Australia or Warnie has a new girlfriend. Dribble that we should not be reading about first thing in the morning when there is so much else going on in the world that is worth it.

I miss friends from around the world and their funny accents.

I miss ancient cultures, beautiful natural landscapes and ugly ones too.

I miss salsa, reggaeton, rumba and vallenato resonating out of car windows, shops and buses so loud that it rattles your body and gets your feet moving that bit quicker.

I miss walking everywhere.

I miss exploring, learning and understanding everything about a new city, county and culture.

While I am enjoying walking the streets at night in safety, the possibility to earn more money in a week than I could have in a month in Latin America and eating delicious lamb, I can't wait to return to the vibrant, raw land of Latin America.

Los Angeles in a day

The glamorous city of Los Angeles, better known as Hollywood, in California is a dazzling city that to most looks like a playground for Barbie and Ken. "The Angels" as it translates to in Spanish, has street and street of perfectly manicured lawns in front of 20-room mansions in light pastel colours and over-sized 4WD's parked out the front is all a bit fake. But then when the glossy couple emerges with a poodle and designer it is all too fake.

But if you can get past the fakeness and frivolity of the rich and famous, there are a few other things to do in LA.

I had only one day in the city before I flew home, but I managed to see a few interesting things. I strolled along Hollywood Blvd, took a stars homes tour where you're not really sure who's front gate or garden hedge you're looking at, and went to the obligatory photo shoot in front of the Hollywood sign. Who knew it was originally put  up by a local real estate agent to advertise the neighbourhood. I stopped at the Chinese Theatre and Kodak Theatre that hosts the Academy Awards. Walked over the stars of Adam Sandler, Elton John, Michael Jackson and Jackie Chan, among the thousands of stars who pay up to $35,000 to get their name trodden on by snap happy tourists every year.

Then I was handed free tickets to the filming of the Late Late show with Brian Ferguson (that was ironically filmed at the cheerfully day-time hour of 4pm) which gave me a sneak peak into the makings of a quite unsuccessful late night talk show and the depressingly shitty job of warmer-up-er-er, a 40 year old wannabe comedian whose job is to get the crowd ready to laugh at the real comedian, who himself is only slightly funny. The warmer-up-er-er, sadly named Chunky, embodied everything you could imagine of a failed middle-aged comedian in LA who still thinks he's awesome!

I then wandered through a Neverland themed mall, complete with dancing fountain and Frank Sinatra tunes wafting through the perfume filled al fresco walkways. Designer MILF's and wanna-be young things paraded around with Abercrombie & Fitch bags battling against GAP and ZARA bags for room in their carriers hand.

Then it was time to head back to LAX, but not before an hour long train ride out to the un-glamorous, black suburbs of Northern LA. This is like another world, where push bikes replace those 4WD's and snotty babies  are carried on the hip of underage girls in baggy pants.

A city I am happy that I saw, but I'll be happier if I never have to see it again.

Weekend in Guatape

The picturesque town of Guatape, situated two hours from Medellin, offers visitors a chance to kick back and relax while exploring its flooded playground.

The best view of this incredible landscape is from the top of La Piedra del Peñol, a monolithic presence that appears out of nowhere. The 600 steps up are enough to work off the arepas and hot chocolate you had for breakfast, and the view is good enough to make you forget the 600 steps. You can grab a cold beer at the top and breathe in the fresh air while enjoying the view.In the 1970's the government decided to flood 5600 acres of hilly landscape to create a hydroelectric dam. The strategy worked and today the dam powers around 36% of Colombia’s electricity, while in the meantime creating some of the most spectacular landscapes you will see in the country.

Densely covered islands pop out of the weaving crystal water and tiny houses perch on peninsulas and lush hilltops. Deserted islands look seductive enough to make you consider emptying out your savings to purchase one.

From the rock you can take a local chivas bus back to town and wander through the colourful streets and peaceful squares. Guatape is known as “the town of Zocalos” due to the beautifully carved and brightly painted 3D motifs of village life that adorn the bottom of almost every building in the historic city center. Don’t miss visiting Calle del Recuerdo (Memory Street), a quaint avenue that was built as a replica of the main street in Old Guatape before it was inundated.

On weekends the waterside promenade is filled with locals selling home made goodies such as empanadas, cakes and jewellery. It is here you can take part in one of the many water sports on offer such as jet skiing, paddle boating and water skiing or climb onboard a cruise boat for a tour of the intricate coves and bays.

The Lake View hostel, a few minutes walk from town offers affordable accommodation and can organize boat tours to visit local sites such as Pablo Escobar’s country house, the local history museum and the site of the now-submerged Old Guatape town. They also offer hiking tours, horse back riding and fishing trips.

Due to the heavy rains that have hit the country over the past year, the lake is at record levels. This has created an incredible man made waterfall at the site where water is released from the dam, with water being pushed out through tunnels and shoots off the concrete slope like a canon, creating a powerful waterfall. This rare sight can only be seen by taking a boat trip across the lake to the drop site.

To get to Guatape, you can take a bus from the Medellin north bus terminal. The bus costs COP11,000 ($6) and leaves hourly.

Flying in Colombia

Ever dreamt of flying? Well, in Medellin that dream can become a reality. Paragliding is the latest extreme sport taking off in the city.

Medellin has quickly gained a reputation as “the home of paragliding” in Colombia, thanks to its sprawling hillsides, eternal spring weather and crazy “paisas” that are addicted to the unique sport.

The first paragliding company was set up in Medellin about 10 and the sport has continue to grow in popularity. Today there are more than five paragliding companies, all offering dreamers a chance to fly.

If you're one of those dreamers, find a few willing friends and head to the popular jump site of San Felix, a scenic hour-long drive from Medellin. The view from the top is breathtaking, with thin clouds sweeping across the town of Bello below.

Before you can fly, you have to wait for the clouds to burn away and the wind to pick up. And then it's time to fly.

The pilot spreads the parachute out along the hill, straps a huge backpack-chair to your back, attaches himself to you and commands you to “Corre, corre, corre!” As you fumble down the slippery hill, wondering what to do next, the wind catches and pulls you up. Now you're flying.

The deceptive thing is how fast you can go. Thermal winds catch the parachute and swing you back and forth along the contour of the mountain like a parent pushing a child on a swing. Higher and faster. The sky is filled with 10 or so other gliders, experts and beginners alike taking advantage of the perfect conditions.

Once the initial exhilaration wears off you can take in the spectacular view. Tiny hamlets, sprawling estates, farms and tin shacks dotted the landscape. Even from hundreds of meters up, you can see children waving frantically at the colourful brushstrokes painting the sky, cows grazing on a steep slope or families enjoying lunch on their patio.

The most impressive part of paragliding is the peace. Relax into the seat, put your faith in the pilot and take in the breathtaking experience of flying. There’s no noise, no smoke, no runways or engines. Simply a clever use of nature’s gifts. A paraglider leaves no trace except a set of footprints running down a hill.

The landing is meant to be a soft touchdown, however sometimes the angelic landing you hope for turns into a wrestlers throw down, if the wind changes. You could be flying along gracefully when suddenly you feel yourself lying breathlessly on a mountainside, wrapped up in a colourful parachute. When putting yourself at the mercy of nature, you have to be prepared for anything.

As Leonardo da Vinci once said, "When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."

The 20 minute flight costs COP 80,000 (about $40). For more details and bookings visit Zona de Vuelo or Vive Antioquia Extremo.

Seduction in Mexico

I recently entered a competition to win a 2 week trip through Turkey learning to be a travel writer. Sweet prize!! Here is my entry:

The car rolled slowly through one of those neighbourhoods the guide books warn you not to visit. My eyes were sweeping along the crowded roadside devouring the intriguing outfits emblazoned with silver studs, dazzling under the beam of the headlights. The options were plentiful, overwhelming. They stared through the car’s windows with pleading eyes, ‘Please pick me, I’ve had no work tonight’. A few stumbled alongside the car offering their services, “500 pesos por hora o 2000 todo el noche” was the going rate. They hung in relaxed groups of eight or ten, sipping on tequila while a lonely harmonica played a sad melody. We continued down the road and after considering the multitude of options, returned to our favourite.

All eight were dressed in finely pressed black suits, their jackets tightened across heavy bellies and strong arms. Polished boots, wide sombreros and orange neck ties completed the elegant outfit. They smelt of cheap aftershave and booze, an intoxicating combination. I handed over our address and returned to the car. We drove back to the party to await the night’s entertainment.

They arrived in a sleek Scooby-doo van, piling out, one ruggedly handsome man after another. Then the instruments: violins, cellos, guitars of various sizes, trumpets, an accordion and the lonely harmonica. Our mariachi band is here.

In Mexico, mariachi bands are as common a 4am taco stand. From tiny pueblos to the metropolis of Mexico City, you will find them loitering on the roadside waiting to be bought or serenading lovers in plazas that once bore the name of a Revolutionary hero but eventually became known as Plaza Mariachi.

Our party is celebrating 200 years of Mexican independence. Ironically, it was the arrival of Spanish instruments that led to the development of mariachi music, the heart and soul of Mexico. The band takes over the lounge room while couples danced effortlessly around the room, courting each other with music and dance. The musicians have dark passionate eyes, worn faces and a deep, intoxicating harmony. They are merrily drunk, the tequila bottle almost empty. A request is played and the room erupts in rowdy chorus. For Mexican’s these songs are childhood lullabies. For me, they represent an enchanting culture, a culture that seduces me more with each song.

The lyrics are drenched in emotion; the theme is always the same: love.

I saw you, so beautiful, so sensual
I imagined you with others, it made me mad
Aaay aaay love, aaay aaay the pain
Too late I realised
With you I had everything and now it’s lost

The mariachi tradition runs through the blood of Mexico. For centuries mariachi bands have been serenading young lovers, entertaining newlyweds and fifteenth birthdays, even fulfilling last wishes at funerals. Their pride and strength, emotion and beauty encapsulate this vivid country. I leave the party, my heart beating heavily to the rhythm of Mexico. 

Wish me luck!

Colombia and Mexico lumped in the same dangerous basket.

I feel like I have some sort of magnet towards drug-ridden developing countries in Latin America. Ok, well maybe only two, but two that have been severely affected by the drug wars and the ensuing violence, corruption and bad image in the media.


Before I left for Mexico I listened to hundreds of warnings about how dangerous the country was, how many people take/sell/abuse drugs and how crazy I was for wanting to go to such a dangerous country. Of course these reliable sources had never been to Mexico, most likely never ever set foot in Latin America.  
Those few that had been to Mexico raved about the vibrant culture, amazing food and amazing parties. These were the people I listened to.


Then, while I was still in Mexico, I told my family and friends back home I was going to live in Colombia, no less Medellin, no less work as a journalist, for two months. Again, the warnings came thick and fast, only now they were slightly easier to ignore by dumping them straight in my virtual trash can. 


Now I'm not blaming my informants for what they were saying, they were simply regurgitating the most violent and shocking AP stories that filter into Australian news broadcasts. I'm not even blaming those Australian news broadcasts, they know that blood sells.


But something needs to be done. I'm writing for an English-language news site www.colombiareports.com about Colombia. The editor said that every evening he looks over the days stories and asks himself, "Is this the Colombia I know? Is this the real Colombia?
If the answer is yes, we've done our job. Of course there are almost daily murders, corruption cases against everyone from the High Court Judge to the President but there are also concerts, sporting events, great travel destinations, government initiatives, natural disasters, development and growth. 


I grew to love Mexico, to understand it's darker side but to to desensitize myself from it and to semi-understand it. Now I have half the time to do the same in Colombia.


On a side note, I found two great articles recently. The first talks about the idea that Colombia's battle against drug cartels should not be copied in Mexico.
http://www.alternet.org/news/150274/colombia_is_no_model_for_mexico's_drug_war

The second is a great piece by an Australian guy in Colombia that sums up my feelings on desensitisation perfectly.
http://newmatilda.com/2011/03/10/everyday-violence

I can't wait to return to Australia and set the record straight about two of the most misrepresented, dangerous countries in the world.

Bienvenidos a Medellin

Loud, interested, high, aggressive, brutal, friendly, resilient.

My first impressions of Medellin, Colombia's most over-looked city. Medellin's infamous son Pablo Escobar ensured that it would be years before the city could escape from it's violent and tough past. But it seems like those years are now.

Recent redevelopment has improved livability, likability and security of the city, with honest money replacing drug money as the catalyst for change.
Libraries, metro cable cars and education programs have taken the barrios to violent, depressing human waste lands to thriving and vibrant suburbs where education is available for all. Children can once again play in the parks, women can walk the streets and locals can shop, study and play within their own environment.

But it's not all rosy and merry. Drug gangs still fight hard for their territories, with Medellin being a transit city for drug and arms shipment across the country and in and out of the Caribbean. Cocaine is still a huge trade, but for the locals, it is mostly left untouched, sent onwards and upwards. Marijuana is however widely used and abused.

The unemployment rate is sending proud men to the streets and to crime. The saying goes, no dar la papaya and nothing bad will happen. In toher words, if you get robbed it's your fault for owning something worth robbing, not the fault of the robber for seizing the opportunity.

But paisas (those from Medellin) have a reputation for resilience and resourcefulness. They've survived the war years and now they can begin to see changes, changes worth sicking around for.

The worlds most beautiful border crossing

The well-trodden backpackers route from Guatemala border hopping through Central America and looping around South America is usually travelled entirely overland by bus, train or car. However the notorious border between Panama and Colombia known as the Darien Gap is one exception. Deemed too dangerous due to Colombian narco-trafickers using it as their playground, it is a no-go zone. Rare stories of brave idiots making it out the other side alive circulate hostel common rooms and severe warnings fill guide book pages to sufficiently scare most off.


So travellers continuing on from Central to South America have been forced off land and onto the sea. A strong market has been established by private sailboat owners who offer to charter travellers for about $400-$450 with food and immigration charges included. Many do it for the extra cash, however others simply want to share their love of sailing with those willing to learn. The passage takes about five days, from Portobelo in panama to Cartagena, Colombia. While it seems quite expensiveand for most people, works out to be better deal than the $300 flight from Panama City to Cartagena.

The types of boats, their size, captains and liveability all vary, but one thing doesn’t, they all pass through the tranquil San Blas archipelago. With enough islands to visit a new one each day of the year, the San Blas islands are a sailors paradise. The majority of the islands are only inhabited by dancing palm trees, fallen coconuts and sandy shores, however some are densely populated by the indigenous Kuna people. The Kuna are an autonomous group who successfully govern themselves with minimum interference from the national government. They are proud and passionate about their traditions, believing ‘the people who lose their culture lose their soul’. The Kuna women wear traditional woven skirts and embroided blouses and a mulititude of beaded bands around their arms and legs to guard off bad spirits. They are picturesque and naturally shy, begging to be captured however those that accept photos will then ask for one dollar compensation.

Most boats leave from the quiet fisherman’s village Portobelo, a three hour bus trip from Panama City, and five days later pull into the colonial town of Cartagena, Colombia. The first three days are spent exploring San Blas islands, where you can snorkel, swim and explore. The last two days are spent crossing the open sea, with a great record for turning sun-baked backpackers into bored and barfing sailors.

Just for the record, our boat made it five days without any vomitting incidents. Our captain was proud.

The captain takes your passport in Panama and returns it in Colombia, turning this border crossing into the slowest but most beautiful you will ever experience. You could sail on a million dollar catamaran or a five-person charming sailboat, your captain could be a nomadic German sailor or a family homeschooling around the world for years.

The easiest way to get details about boats leaving is from hostels in Panama City, but be aware of a $25 commission. A new site has just started http://sanblascartagena.com/ that promises to have all the details in one easy place with a no-commission for the traveller deal. However it's not quite up and running yet. Many boats also do the return journey, but the demand is a lot less. Summer is meant to be a smoother sail, but in winter you can get lucky with the weather. Just remember to stock up on seasickness tablets before you leave.

The Panama Canal

I left Costa Rica via Ticabus, an overnight bus trip for about $50. Highly unsatisfied with the service, we left at 11pm, arrived at the frontera at 4:45. But the problem was that the immigration office didn't open until 6 theoretically, but 6:15am in reality.
We then spent over 4 hours at the border, waiting in line, waiting in more lines, and waiting for officials to do whatever they do. To cross the border you have to show evidence of a return ticket, which you can buy from the Tica agent for $35, but he promises you can get a refund at the office. Of course you can't, they just want your money! Many people I was travelling with managed to talk their way out of buying a ticket, maybe I was just the naive one..

Eventually we got to Panama City at almost 5pm, hot, sweaty and tired.

Panama City is a hidden gem of a city within the rest of a decaying, underdeveloped line of Central America capitals. The hype over Panama carnaval was slighty over-the-top in my eyes, sure there were parades, and there was music concerts and gospel music, but there was none of that Rio pazzazz, the boobs, bums and sequins you expect.

The more people I talk to about Panama, the more dissapointment I hear. 'Panamaniens are not lively, they give no love, they are hostile almost'. Not a great rep. And when I think about it myself, I can say that all the people I've met in Panama have not been Panamaniens. The Panamaniens aren't super friendly like their Central American counterparts, nor are they wild like their South American neighbours. Who knows why, possible due to their privedged past gaining continuous wealth from the Canal, or their recent American connection, but whatever the reason, Panama is lacking something.

The Canal was definitely the highlight. An incredible and mindblowing feat of human engineering, it is truly impressive. I was lucky to witness a giant freighter pass through when I was there, a surreal sight. The boat is lifted and dropped up to 26m above sea level by gravity, water and amazing engineering skills. These boats pay about $300,000 to pass through, and smaller yahcts around $1000. The least ever paid was 36c by Richard Haliburton in 1936 when he swam through the canal. And the best part- they have tp pay in cash 48 hours before. Bankrobbers, here's your treasure chest!

The canal will celebrate it's 100th birthday in 2014, when the new extension is set to be completed. It will be a huge celebration, bigger than Carnaval I imagine. Maybe then we'll see some real Panamenian wildness!

I'm now in Portobelo, a little fishing village near Colon on the Caribeean side. I've got a sailboat lined up to take me 5 days across the ocean to Cartagena, Colombia. Due to the fact that the overland passage between the two countries, Darien Gap, is said to be one of the most dangerous in the world, sailboat captains have tapped into this money making scheme to offer backpackers a trip of a lifetime throught the magestic San Blas Islands. The cost is about $400-$450, for 5 days sailing including food and immigration charges.

I am excited!

Pura Vida

Some countries get it right. Oh so right. Latest example is Costa Rica.

The daily mantra is PURA VIDA. -PURE LIFE.

But it's not just some gimmicky tourism board catch phrase to appeal to mid-life-crisis tourists, it is how Tico's live their life.

They love the sun, the sea, nature and animals. They appreciate the little bit of paradise they happen to call home and want to approvechar.

Any Costa Rican town has only 4 essentials: a school, a soccer pitch, a church, and a bar. ANythiing else is a bonus.

The wealth of beauty here impels you to be happy, to go out there and see it, feel it, breathe it, live it. Tico's want to talk to you, want to make you feel welcome here. Not in a sleazy 'hey sexy girl' Cuban style, but in their 'Hola chica, pura vida' kinda way. It's infectious. After one week here, I'm hooked. I feel the warmth of the sand and the sea run through my sunkissed skin and into my personality.

In one short week we've been woken by monkeys playing in the hotel, saw a toucan fly across a volcanic landscape, rafted class IV- V rapids, loosened our muscles in natural hot springs, surfed, hiked, swam, ate, drank, and loved every minute.

Life is pure, live it purely!

Volcano hiking in Guatemala

The plan was to hike Santa Maria volcano in Xela at midnight under a full moon to get a glimpse down onto it's neighbour, the explosive Santiaguito volcano which is highly active. Sound too good to be true!?

It was. The night of our supposed hike, we found out it had been cancelled. Santiaguito was getting a bit too active making it too dangerous for even las chicas aventureras among us.

So we settled on the well-trodden path of Pacaya in Antigua. Less dangerous, less adventurous and less unique, but actually still a great experience.

The climb was meant to take 90 minutes, we powered up in 45. The higher you go, the thicker the fog encapsulting you in the forest, making it impossible to predict your position on the mountain. We only knew we´d made it to the top when we arrived at a flat peak, completely fogged over. 

We then crossed a thick, rocky path downwards to get to the ´Sauna´. The landscape its covered in lava produced in last eruption in May 2010, which saw ash float 5km high. It is a black apocalyptical setting, completely surreal and foreign, nothing living, nothing even dead. Just us crazy hikers, daring to walk through this hot crater. We felt like we´d laned on mars, or some black, cloudy version of it. The sauna is a cave like formation, heated by natural heat expelled from the volcano. It´s steamy, two minutes leaves you breathless. It was so hot in some parts we could even cook marshmallows off the rocks.

Xela, Guatemala

Sitting on the dusty steps outside an inconspicuous immigration office in no-mans land between Mexico and Guatemala for 6 hours is not how I imagined my first foray into Guatemala. If I'm honest I imagined something much more sinister, armed holdups, gang warfare or illegal immigrants smuggling themselves across the lengthy border.

But our hold up can be thanked to a simple economic problem of maize prices. Guatemalan farmers wanted the prices of imported Mexican maize to be lowered, so the most effective way to make the government listen is, in their opinion, by blocking the roads. The trucks stops, transport stops and bad press begins.

So we waited patiently until 6pm until the roads were opened, and made our way onward to Xela.

Quetzaltenango (or more simply Xela) has recently jumped on the relatively successful bandwagon of Spanish schools and now hosts over 20. I chose to study at El Nahual which runs the schools to help fund its volunteer project educating young children and adults who may not have access to public education.

So two weeks of 4 hour a day one-on-one Spanish lessons are now up. As are two weeks of living with a Guatemalan family and having breakfast, lunch and dinner ready and waiting for you each day and crazy afternoon with numerous under 10's who crave attention and lots of it.

I enjoyed my time here, but not sure if I would do it again. The teachers weren't the best, my first made me read a four-page article about the history of baby jesus figurines, while my second teacher taught me preterito, imperfect, futuro and condicional tenses in two days and expected me to remember them all!

I loved getting to know the kids, helping those who really wanted to learn, and sympathising with those who really struggle. In Guatemala if a child wasn't registered with the government when it was born (a surprisingly high occurance) then its a lengthy and costly process to get it into school later. A process most families can't/won't/don't do. So volunteer programs like El Nahual help to give these kids some level of education.

Our host family was comparably wealthy, the 11 year-old grandson had a laptop and plasma TV in his room, and they were in the process of adding a second story to their modest home. The food was homely and tasty. The grandmother ran the roost, along with her young Mayan maid. We ate porridge for breakfast, beans, meat and vegtables for lunch, and beans, tortillas and rice for dinner.

The long days wore me out so most nights I was sleeping before 10pm. We took a mother-daughter break with another mother and dughter duo from Belgium the middle weekend to the mesmerizing Lago de Atitlan. We stayed in the touristy Panajachel, and relaxed by the volcanous lakeside. The water was cool and refreshing. The sun was delciously soothing after the coolness of Xela. We ate well, drank well and laughed a lot.

Tomorrow I'm embarking on what I hope will be an incredible experience. I'll be hiking a live volcano, Santiaguito, at midnight, under a full moon. Can you get more magical than that.

Family holiday

Tomorrow my sister and my mum will arrive in Mexico City. I am very excited to see them, to teach them what I know and to explore with them. My sister is an experienced traveller, my mother not so. So I can expect some difficulties, stress and squabbles but most of all I expect it to bring us closer.

It's not until I realised they will be here soon that I allowed myself to realise how much I miss my family. We are close, but in a distant way. My sister and I are constantly travelling, and we haven't lived at home since we were both 18, so we are used to being apart. But at the same time we come from a kind and loving family that have always supported us. So it will be great to spend some quality time together in a new and unique environment.

We haven't been on a family holiday, the three of us, since...... I honestly can't remember. We've had weekends away with family, holidays individually or in pairs but never the three of us. So it will be great to experience a new country together.

We will all have a few days in Mexico City together before my sister goes to Cancun and will work her way through the Yucatan Peninsula by bus, while my mum and I will head to Quetznaltengo in Guatemala to volunteer in a school and learn some Spanish. Then we will all meet in Guatemala and head to Costa Rica for a relaxing week in the rainforest and the beach.

A perfect girls trip! I can't wait!

The underwater world

After Cuba I had some time to fill to await the arrival of my mum and sister so I decided to spent it underwater. That is, scuba diving.

I'd never dived before, but I'd heard only good things from friends so I decided to get my PADI open water dive certificate. I found a great company Scuba 10 in Playa del Carmen and signed up.

The most daunting thing about it is the gear. The more gear you put on, the more alien you look and feel. Big tanks on your back, hoses coming out everywhere and your whole body covered in a black wetsuit, it certainly isn't the most fashionable sport.

But once you're underwater everything changes. The first descent is incredible. as you reach the bottom and look up, it's like you really are in another world. The surface looks like the sky into another universe, and the bubbles that float from your tank slowly climb to the surface and pop away.

Over the course I did five dives, each one gaining more confidence, and spotting more things. (The first few dives you don't notice much of the amazing marine life because you are concentrating too hard on breathing, inflating, deflating, not drifting, following your instuctor and not hitting any precious coral. But after all thats ok, then you can enjoy it!)

We saw an octopus, a rare sight in the day time, and the way it changes from white to grey when it breathes. I spotted a giant lobster, a manta ray, a graceful turtle swimming all the way to the surface and back down, and a shark! It was only a nurse shark, but at the time I didn't know so I was certainly freaked when I saw it staring beadily out from a dark cave.

Being underwater is as unnatural for humans as trying to fly, so I felt priveledged to be able to interact and appreciate the diversity and beauty of the underwater world.

At least now I know once I've explored enough of the globe by land, there's a whole other world down there.

CUBA

CUBA

Too many clichés to describe this fascinating country. But the one I like the best, "You will fall in love with Cuba, wihtout understanding why".

It's confusing, outdated, interesting, closed, anti-capitalist, socialist, cheap, tourist-economy, loud, tasteless, daggy, sleazy and rhythmic.

My naivity before I arrived led me to believe the people would be depressed clones working a picket-line like slaves. Of course that was not like it was, nor should it be. I realised that although it is under a communist goverment, the majority of citizens still have some freedom to do as they please, especially those with money (the majority of their disposible income comes from family abroad or illegal dealings with tourists such as taxis or selling cigars).

I was travelling with a a group of 8 Australians, and with a the majority being blonde we attracted a lot of unwanted attention. Men whistled, blew kisses, called names, complemented us, followed us and continually asked us 'where are you from sexy girl?'...

We visited the towns of Havana, Trinidad, Camaguey, Santa Clara and Viñales.

La Havana is basically broken into three sections, the renovated, tourist-friendly Havana Vieja with the museums, restaurants and art galleries. Centro is the hustle and bustle of Havana, it's loud, busy and confronting. And Vedado is the rich area, full of beautiful old colonial houses, giant hotels that were used by the mafia and tree-lined boulevards.

Viñales is the tobacco-heart of Cuba, This is where the large cigar factories get their tobacco leaves from. In fact, the farmers are forced to give up 80-90% of their tobacco production to these government run factories, left with only a small amount to make their own organic cigars. We visited one farmer who showed us the natural process the use, then we tasted it. The honey, rum and cinnamon flavours combined with the strong tobacco and sent us all into a happy state.

Everyone knows that Cuban food is shit. I won't deny it. The 1 peso cheese pizzas, the dry and overcooked meat and the tinned spaghetti that seem to crop up on most menus certainly didn't stimulate the tastebuds, (especially after the wide variety of flavoursome Mexican dishes). However, we did discover two gems in Havana. A little authentic Chinese resturant called Tian Tan in China town served up delcious soups and noodle dishes. And Los Nardos opposite the Capitolio building was always packed thanks to its extensive menu, big servings and flavoursome Cuban fare. The pushy waiters were the only turn-off. Even the decor was rich and sensitive, as opposed to the usual plastic decor and bright lighting in the majority of government-run restaurants.

During the trip, my friends and I had the constant debate about Cubans, 'do they know what they're missing out on, or are they happy to live like this?' Of course while the government tries to limit outside influence, it is impossible to limit it all. With many Cubans living overseas, they bring foreign products, money and ideas with them when they return. Hollywood movies are shown regulary in Cuban cinemas. The internet is now available for some University students and more and more to those Cubans who have the resources to pay for it. Also the constant stream of interested tourists with comparatively full wallets must make the Cubans think twice about their rationed way-of-life. But on the other hand, they receive virtually free housing, health care and good education, some of the biggest worries and most sought after things in the capitalist economy. They have their own currency, worth a fraction of that of the toursist dollar, however the government subsidises everything from the baseball to phone lines.

One Cuban friend I spoke to wanted to know about travelling. The sensation of flying, exploring an unknown place, however his biggest worry was packing, 'How would I know what to take on holiday?'

He studies economy by day- learning about the capitalist system compared to his own socialism, and by night he tries to meet many tourists as he can (something illegal in itself without a licence) to find out about places he never thinks he will never see. A interesting contradiction.

That's how it is in Cuba.

Everyone says things are changing, slowly but surely. As more private business and foreign capital is welcomed into the economy, Cuba is slowly opening itself up to change. I left knowing I'll be back, but when, who knows.

Southern Mexico roadtrippin PT3

I woke up on Christmas Eve morning with a whopping hangover and a scattered memory. My friends dragged me out of bed to the ferry (not the best idea) to head across to Isla Mujeres. It wasn't till the afternoon I realised it was still in my dress from last night with terribly smudged makeup. All class!

My group of European friends celebrate Christmas Eve so we dined at a delicious courtyard restaurant on tuna steak, hors d'oeuvre, cheeses and Spanish wine. It was certainly different to the normal family BBQ but it was lovely all the same. After dinner, we handed out presents then went into the street and smashed a piñata! So much fun.

Christmas day was my turn for an Aussie chrissy, I taught everyone the apparently compex rules of beach cricket and a picnic on the beach.

We left in the afternoon to Valladolid where we sung karaoke, swam in caves and explored the cute town centre.

The next day we stopped at the disneyland of ruins, Chitzen Itza. It could have been nice if we could've seen past all the gringos swarming the place.

That night we made it to Merida and found a great hostel with a campsite and pool and breakfast and internet called Nomadas. We did salsa lessons, I explored the great central market and we ate at the famous local fare, pork, pork and more pork. I also stupidly, or bravely, depending on which way you look at it, ate a habanero chile. The hottest in Mexico! It put a dramatic end to my night as I retreated to the tent with a stomach ache, burning mouth and general lethargy. And I only took a nibble. I don't know how the Mexicans do it. They smother it over everything. I've even seen some eat it like an apple to wash down some tacos.

After the relaxing Merida, we took a long drive along th Ruta Puuc, visited some of the Mayan ruins along the way and made it back to Tulum by nightfall. We visited our favourtite campsite on the beach and pitched the tent in a great spot. Maybe not so great as all night we wondered when the howling wind would blow our tent over. Luckily it didn't, but safe to say we didn't choose the best campsite.

We spend the days lounging on the beach, playing a bit of beach cricket and eating delicious fresh seafood. We swam around a headland and visited the ruins of Tulum. Very impressive, except for the monton of tours buzzing about.

On the 30th of December we headed up to Playa del Carmen to get prepared for our big NYE celebrations. We met up with a group of three friends from France and two girls from Germany and their Colombian friend in the campsite Las Ruinas and caught up on each others latest travels.

The stage was set for a prefect NYE. A group of 15 friends. A beautiful beach. A party town. Plenty of alcohol. Great weather.

And it was, we partied all night long in Calle 12, dancing to live music overflowing from the crowded bars and eventually moved onto the beach for some skinnydipping to welcome in the new year.

A few more relaxing days at the beach, with the sun and sea nursing our hangovers and then that was it. The road trip was over. The equipo was separated. We said our goodbyes at Cancun airport on my way to Cuba. There were tears, hugs and laughs. I didn't realise how much I loved these guys, and how much I would miss their company.

Our roadtrip had been full of adventure, fun and misadventure. I will cherish these memories forver.