tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11594271067542744372011-12-11T06:18:15.578ZKirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.comBlogger481100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-28016165303229836742011-08-18T18:12:00.000+01:002011-08-18T18:12:33.856+01:00

Day 4: Isla Floreana Our morning excursion is to Punta Cormoran. The beach there has green, grey sand and a lagoon with one pink flamingo.  Just past the lagoon is a lovely beach and Darwin shows us how to spot (and not step on!) stingrays disguised in the sandy, shallow waters. It freaks me out but there are plenty of punters willing to wait for the stingrays to brush across their

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-53774601722886692492011-07-26T16:04:00.004+01:002011-07-26T22:18:26.396+01:00

Day 3: Isla Espanola and Punta Suarez Overnight, we sail away from Isla Santa Cruz and anchor in Gardner Bay off Isla Espanola. From the boat, I can tell we are in for a treat. Pale blue water and pure white sand littered with sea lions and pups.  It's a glorious morning to stroll along the beach and watch the mums tend to their young. They are the sweetest things ever.  A pup sits at the

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-65256988277685791162011-07-11T22:21:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:27:25.040+01:00

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28 July 2010 If there’s one thing that South America lacks, it’s wildlife. Apart from the llamas and alpacas, there isn’t much to see unless you hike for days into the jungle.  Until you get to Galapagos. 1000 kilometres off the coast of Ecuador and famous for their part in forming Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, the Galapagos Islands are barren but incredibly beautiful. The islands are

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Ecuador: 24 July 2010 Guayaquil. Definitely not my cup of tea. At the risk of sounding like a spoilt brat, I’m already missing the beach. And the shabbiness of Ecuador's largest city is just not doing it for me.  The street food is weird and bland, and the hostels are grubby, basic and expensive.  There is a festival on this weekend in Guayaquil but no one knows, or wants to tell us, about it.

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-35216749998084639522011-07-02T21:23:00.002+01:002011-07-25T12:28:50.726+01:00

Mancora, Peru: 19 July 2010 Exhausted from so many overnight bus journeys, I’ve barely closed my eyes for a catnap when an uber-excited Meg and Hunter bounce into our room. It's only been a few days since we saw them but I’ve missed them. They take us to their favourite beachfront cafe, Green Eggs and Ham, and we eat the best food we’ve had in months on the deck. I’m still chewing the last

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Peru: 13 July 2010 At this point in our travels, we’ve been land-locked for months and, being an ocean loving gal, I am craving water. We’ve also been at high altitude on and off for the better part of two months and it’s hard work. I know we’ll get there eventually but the thought of more mountains makes me on edge. We’ve also had a record number of ridiculously early starts so I cherish

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-63932879823096583222010-11-08T20:02:00.000Z2011-07-25T12:28:50.727+01:00

Day 1: The first part of every tour is always an interesting time in terms of sussing out who you will get along with and who you won’t. At first glance, we have an American couple with a son, Chris (26) and daughter, Casey (22) who are travelling with an English couple and their ten year old son, Eric. Yep a ten year old doing the Inca Trek! In our group of 16 there are eight other

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We board a bus back to Arequipa, leaving the Canyon de Conquered behind. The bus is a local one and is so stuffed with people that there are actually two people standing between Geezer who is in the aisle seat and the seat in front. One of them constantly scratches his head, flicking dandruff all over Geezer who shakes it off in disgust with a ‘ugh!’ and glares at the scratcher. The bus is also

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Kitted out with camping gear, enough food for four days and some booze to celebrate our hard slog each day, we board a six hour local bus to Cabanaconde. Once there, we quickly find ourselves a great little hostel with staff who provide us with maps for our hike and some basic drawings of landmarks to watch out for. We stuff ourselves with sensational pizza and have an early night – completely

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-21313636366811646582010-08-14T19:39:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:28:50.728+01:00

Eager to leave Puno behind, we bus it that night to Arequipa to hike through the Colca Canyon – the world’s second deepest canyon. Compared to many other South American cities, Arequipa is modern with a hint of a Middle Eastern appearance. We are only there for a day before hearing that the biggest festival in South America is on in a few days time in Cusco. So Geezer and I make a last minute

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-17668691550686793792010-08-14T18:23:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:28:50.728+01:00

Frankly – the less said about the floating islands, the better. Horribly touristy and, although the scenery is pretty good on one of the islands, we can’t wait to get out of there. Our tour guide, Bruno, is the most irritating, uninformed idiot and several times we bite our tongues to stop ourselves from a smart response. When he leaves us stranded on the island, our boat taking off without us,

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After bidding Meg and Hunter farewell, our next adventure is a mountain bike tour down the ‘world’s most dangerous road’. It is a narrow, rocky road with mountains on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It has earned its name because of the number of deaths from cars, buses and trucks going over the side. Not so confident on a mountain bike – let alone on a road with that kind of reputation

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-8375835697061298772010-07-17T23:21:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:29:31.541+01:00

The morning we leave Rurre, we had not only said goodbye to Rambo, but our new friends Meg and Hunter. So feeling rather depressed we get ready to go back to La Paz – dreading the mayhem, cold weather and high altitude. But as Meg and Hunter are leaving they break the news that they have decided to come to La Paz for Geezer’s birthday. We are rapt. We head to Rurre airport and get an enormous

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-59145399212885047012010-07-17T23:08:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:29:31.542+01:00

The eight days that we have spent with Rambo, we form a bond and it isn’t until we say goodbye that we realise the effect he has had on us. Over that time we learn that he is one of 29 children, his father is just about to turn 103 and has had ten wives in his lifetime. Rambo tells us that his dad smokes a pipe with home-grown tobacco but only eats food produced on his farm. He says he is a

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-31633223365116349402010-07-17T20:11:00.041+01:002011-07-25T12:29:31.542+01:00

We have a day in Rurre doing chores before marching into Madidi to say we are going on a four day jungle tour and we are taking Rambo, Rodolfo and Sandy with us. Madidi advises us that there are other guides we should use for the jungle but having spent four amazing days with this crew we don’t want anyone else. Our crew seem delighted with this and outside sits a smiling Rambo, who gives me a

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-24275546384980229282010-07-13T18:07:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:29:31.543+01:00

When we decide to give Madidi Tours another chance, we set some conditions - we insist on camping rather than staying in the lodges, which is what all the other tourists do, that Madidi doesn’t screw us again and we have the same crew. Julian is so offended by us axing the first trip that he announces he will not be coming so we will have no translator. We don’t care. And by this stage in our

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I’m not a strong believer in fate... more that shit just happens. But our latest adventure may have swayed me slightly towards the former. The few days we spend in La Paz kill us – the high altitude, the constant feeling of being ripped off and the general craziness of the city. So after a few days we leg it to Rurrenabaque, Bolivia’s jump off point to the Amazon jungle and pampas, hanging for

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-24769507460697211912010-06-11T22:16:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:29:31.543+01:00

Our tour of the salt flats leads us in to Bolivia – and as soon as you step over the border, you know you are in a different country. The ‘chulitos’ (traditional women) wear layers and layers of skirts, aprons, cardigans and shawls, giving the impression of being much larger than they are. They also wear bowler hats balanced on their heads and their long hair braided into two platts, which are

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-29278957816729505352010-05-17T01:55:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:30:12.424+01:00

Our tour into Bolivia starts off with a bang – literally. We’re not ten minutes out of San Pedro when a tyre blows on the trailer loaded with all our backpacks. We wait for a replacement tyre to be brought out and two muppets from the tour company arrive (minus the tyre) to concur with the driver that – yes the tyre has blown. We arrive at the Bolivian border where I’m given grief about my

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-27074250451364268962010-05-17T01:30:00.054+01:002011-07-25T20:08:03.670+01:00

After a quick hostel change, we arrive at Hostal del Centro which is a stone’s throw from the main square of Salta and has some of life’s little luxuries – marmite and HP sauce! We bump into English Lou, the chick I met on our girly shopping trip in Bariloche. She is meeting up with a girl she also met in Bariloche and it turns out to be, Rachel, who we met in our hostel in Ushuaia – ahhh... the

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-42373597834067153102010-05-16T00:20:00.004+01:002011-07-25T16:54:13.061+01:00

After the weirdness and wonder of Easter Island, coming back to a big, polluted, noisy city like Santiago is daunting.  But we meet up with a friend of a friend who takes us to the Bohemian district, Bella Vista, for a night out.  Tomas and his girlfriend, Margarita, take us salsa dancing. I can tell by the horror on Geezer's face that he is as mortified as me. But we say nothing to our new

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-91345470643574878052010-05-04T14:33:00.000+01:002010-05-04T14:33:21.043+01:00

Last night the Geezer and I retired to our huge double room with ensuite (a luxury in backpacker terms) while the rest of the hostel partied on in to the night. It was 11:30pm. The main courtyard where everyone was drinking was right outside our door and we lay there listening to the giggling and storytelling of the other backpackers. They were having a ball. We wondered if we were old and boring

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-60679901799655818692010-04-26T22:36:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:30:36.758+01:00

I didn’t know how to start this next edition of our blog so I asked the Geezer. His response “two shit films later and we were in Easter Island”. After six weeks of cold weather, we arrive on Isla de Pascua (Easter Island) with day packs full of winter clothes. It hadn’t registered with either of us that we were heading to a tropical island so we swelter in the heat at the airport wondering if

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-75346995738595240032010-04-22T18:11:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:30:12.425+01:00

Feeling a bit sad to leave Bariloche we make our way back in to Chile for some volcano action. The view crossing the Andes is amazing. We reach immigration where we are frogmarched off the bus to line up in alphabetical order to get our passports stamped. After all the Gonzales’ have lined up, a Mr Grim is called out. “Mr Grim???” “Mr Frederick Grim??”. We absolutely kill ourselves laughing and

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-53390609412477588202010-04-22T18:00:00.003+01:002011-07-25T13:37:38.888+01:00

When you’re in a travel routine, it's surprising how far and fast you can move. But it gets tiring. Up early to sightsee. Night bus to the next stop. Sleep. Sight see. Back on the bus.   Maybe you're thinking, 'yeah right... stop moaning... half your luck’. As fabulous as travelling is, it makes you weary. What will each stop will bring? Will it be one of those places where you hang your boots up

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-54234989638369515732010-04-09T21:37:00.001+01:002011-07-25T12:31:08.699+01:00

We allow ourselves a few days to recover from the pain of Torres del Paine and head further north back in to Argentina to El Chalten – another popular hiking spot. El Chalten is nestled in a valley and is surrounded by jagged, rocky peaks, one of which is Mt Fitz Roy. We get in late to Chalten and the hostel tells us that they only have a ten bed dorm available (we’ve become dorm snobs and

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-89827831915498220132010-04-09T20:40:00.000+01:002011-07-25T12:31:08.700+01:00

Following our Antarctic adventure, Geezer and I head north to Puerto Natales, Chile via Punta Arenas. Punta Arenas turns out to be a bit of a disaster because our main reason for going there – a chairlift up to Isla Magdalena – has just closed for the winter. The other reason is to visit a naval museum to learn more about the Antarctic explorer, Ernest Shackleton, and it is ordinary. So we book

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-42949041088831964372010-03-27T01:44:00.005Z2011-07-30T16:42:30.308+01:00

Day 5: St Patricks Day – a treat for the Irish. Temp: 0 degrees Our ship sails south towards the peninsula of the Antarctic continent itself. As I step out on the deck pre-dawn, I wonder how the scenery could possibly be more beautiful than what we have already seen. But it is. Breathtakingly so.  We are slowly drifting between enormous icebergs, in some places through pack ice, through the

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-51670275142751264202010-03-21T13:29:00.252Z2011-07-30T20:19:34.490+01:00

Antarctica: Day 1: D-Day I have looked forward to today – 12 March 2010 – for so long. Ten days of cruising around Antarctica. It’s hard to believe it has finally arrived.  120 of us board buses to Ushuaia port where our GAP Adventures ship, MS Expedition, waits. We are the last to board because of our obsession with taking photos. Last night our group met and mingled, chatting anxiously

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-91945715877160621232010-03-10T22:56:00.000Z2011-07-25T12:31:55.234+01:00

If it is possible to be more excited than I am right now, I can't imagine it. Yesterday we arrved in Ushuaia, Argentina where our Antarctic trip leaves from. Our hostel overlooks the channel where the boats sail out to the Antarctic. On one side is Chile and the other side is Argentina. It is beautiful. It's 10 degrees here. 4 degrees on Friday predicted. It's a nice change to be out of the

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-54667485684714330422010-03-08T18:57:00.001Z2011-07-25T12:32:32.787+01:00

Many travellers skip Uruguay on their South American travels. But given it's only a two and half hour ferry ride from Buenos Aires, I'm not sure why. We hadn't heard anything about Uruguay and a bit of research before we left probably would have been a good idea. We hopped off the ferry in Colonia with just our day packs after leaving our luggage in BA, no expectations and no mosquito repellant

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-34382848016138663892010-03-04T00:21:00.005Z2011-07-25T12:33:06.856+01:00

One of the things I love most about backpacking is that it makes me live in the moment and it brings me back to basics - getting myself from A to B, finding food and shelter.  It doesn't take much to make a backpacker happy... a decent shower (if it's hot even better), comfy bed and an edible breakfast usually does the trick. WIFI and a friendly front desk are a welcome bonus. The sad thing

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-39771027361727708302010-02-26T16:13:00.001Z2011-07-25T12:41:54.801+01:00

It would be remiss of me to blog about our travels and not mention some of the people we have met along the way... not just the locals but other travellers. I'll start with the Brazilians..  1. The smiling assassin: Tall, skinny Brazilian guy working at the check-in counter for Gol (Brazilian airline) with the biggest, friendliest smile and big horse-like teeth who smiled the entire time while

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-21071960004940090792010-02-23T01:26:00.003Z2011-07-25T12:34:25.946+01:00

22 February – Day five on the boat - get me off! By now the music and food on the boat is just about driving us to despair. Breakfast has got progressively more stale and if I smell or see another toasted ham and cheese sandwich I’m likely to heave. We can’t wait to get off. I’ve seen enough jungle, enough river and had enough of the strange people on the boat. Yesterday the boat docked and we

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-61482967285836310942010-02-10T01:09:00.002Z2011-07-25T12:34:25.947+01:00

One thing Brazilians know how to do is party. They work hard, play hard and party even harder. And if they are sleep deprived, you would never know it. Salvador is Brazil’s second largest Carnaval city. It is different to Rio in that there is more of a street party atmosphere than the official sambadrome parade that everyone associates with Rio’s Carnaval. But here in Salvador they also take

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-30748435036987135432010-02-09T23:03:00.001Z2011-07-25T12:34:25.947+01:00

6 February: One of our missions while in Olinda has been to find Carnaval masks as a Brazilian souvenir - and there are plenty around. They range from simple hand painted papier-mâché masks to ornate masks decorated with feathers, gems and globs of glitter. We found some pretty cool ones but figured that Australian customs wouldn’t like the feathers – and that was before we found out the price.

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-42185124717525951042010-02-05T21:18:00.002Z2011-07-25T12:34:25.948+01:00

Everything seems hidden away in Olinda. Not many visible places to eat so we have relied on our Lonely Planet. On its recommendation, last night we went in search of a pizzeria. We looked everywhere – even asking the police and tourist guides who all sent us in a different direction - and still couldn’t find it. So we bought some beers and plonked ourselves on a door step to contemplate our next

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-27688883573666263622010-02-05T21:17:00.001Z2011-07-25T12:36:19.980+01:00

Part One: It’s the small things At takeoff from Auckland airport we timed how long it would take to reach our final destination - Olinda, Brazil. A 12 hour flight to Santiago, a five hour stopover and a six hour flight to Rio de Janeiro via Sao Paolo. We arrived in Rio at 1am and, with an 8am flight to Recife, we didn’t have time to go to a hotel. So we set up camp in the departures area (I

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-31704647679545990222010-02-05T21:15:00.002Z2011-07-25T12:36:19.980+01:00

I’m not one for farewells – but the night before we left for Auckland, our fabulous hosts for the week - Marg, Matt, Naricca, April and Connor - cooked us a farewell roast dinner and toasted us with champagne. They presented us with a ‘warm’ Maori greenstone pendant each (greenstone is only ever given as a gift and is worn before giving so that it is warm). We were so touched. It was a really

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-31108000700836878462010-01-31T06:14:00.011Z2011-07-25T12:36:19.981+01:00

THUNDER... AHHHHHH... THUNDER... AHHHH...  Am not an Acca Dacca fan by any stretch of the imagination but a 60-something year old Angus Young was amazing and they seriously rocked. 35,000 people at Wellington stadium on Thursday night, most pumping their fists in the air to the music, had a pretty good time. The night started with an interesting train ride. The Mongrel Mob boarded the train

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-4744905297468761502010-01-26T07:39:00.001Z2011-07-25T12:36:19.981+01:00

To say that leaving Australia was stressful would be an understatement. I actually thought that I was quite organised but the number of things to do before I left the country was ridiculous. I arrived in NZ at 2:30pm and was ready for bed. Big Day Out the night before and some last minute packing meant that I had about two hours sleep. I arrived at Nicole's exhausted. Slept a massive 13 hours.

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-32833992585356373472010-01-21T01:11:00.002Z2010-01-21T01:13:11.120Z

3 days till departure. Am seriously sleep deprived. Went to see Kasabian at the Enmore last night with Miss Pressa and am off to Lilly Allen tonight with lovely Liz. Big Day out on Saturday. Probably wasn't smart booking a gig the day before departure but who cares. It will be the gig that kicks off my trip! The car still hasn't sold, camera still hasn't arrived, All Black patch is still not

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-53453232812575862462010-01-12T00:15:00.006Z2010-01-12T23:19:01.662Z

Somewhere, amidst all the chaos, a little voice is reciting a mantra over and over in my head... 'just keep swimming'.... 'just keep swimming'. Am still busy sorting and packing my possessions (which I am STILL trying to fit into three boxes).. 1 of those, 2 of those, 3 of them... nope you don't need another pair of shoes... put that back. I know when people say 'you must be excited', that I

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-74750166793886751722010-01-08T00:01:00.003Z2010-01-12T23:24:00.153Z

1. That my real estate agent would treat me fairly: Shame on you Sydney Links Real Estate of Potts Point for officially becoming the worst real estate agency in the world. I am glad to be finally rid of you! 2. That saying goodbye would be easier: Have opted for pretending that I will see people again next week rather than say farewell.  3. That leaving Sydney would be easy: I was having a

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-22218875190159399052010-01-05T05:38:00.001Z2010-01-05T06:06:57.671Z

Somehow the notion that I was only going to take 3 boxes and a backpack to my brothers following my house move now seems like a bit of a joke. I've managed to fill up his spare room. I'll be spending the next few weeks on an air mattress that I've managed to blow up higher on one side. I keep waking up thinking I'm about to roll down a hill. I'm adding more things on my to do list than removing.

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-55440554917043807132009-12-31T00:55:00.004Z2009-12-31T01:00:30.514Z

New Years Eve in a drizzly Sydney: Have almost finished work for the year and am heading home to pack a few more things before the move on Saturday.  Task list seems to grow larger each day... swine flu vaccination, make some enquiries about travel writing, register with Smart Traveller, photocopy passport and a shopping list as long as my arm. My bag is packed to the brim already and I fear I'm

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1159427106754274437.post-71635836186125049422009-12-30T00:01:00.003Z2009-12-31T01:01:16.507Z

25 Days till I leave Australia. First stop NZ. Move out of the apartment this weekend, car is up for sale (no bites... not ONE!.. anyone want to buy a Holden Barina?), old dresses are up on ebay, old clothes taken to Vinnies and flights are booked. To say I'm anxious about travelling is a slight understatement. I'm not sure if it's excitement or the fear of being robbed, ripped off or uprooting

Kirsten Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09574844683893141444noreply@blogger.com0