G'day Mate!

I don’t know if I have ever mentioned it before but when I was eighteen I lived in Australia for a year, working and travelling my way down the East Coast. I don’t tend to talk about it very much so you would be forgiven for not realising that I am somewhat of an institution Down Under. During the fifteen hour flight from Buenos Aires to Sydney I wondered what the Aussies would have organised for my return; I had heard rumours that Kylie and the cast of Neighbours had paid the Government to be involved in the welcome back ceremony. I was a little disappointed that Toadfish wasn’t waiting at the arrivals gate re-enacting the T-mobile ‘Welcome Home’ advert, but once we had checked in to the cheapest airport hotel for some much needed sleep and switched on the news, it was confirmed; Australia was gripped in “Beaber Fever”! Hordes of screaming girls were pictured on the news, all professing their love for Beaber, and I learnt that it had been organised for me to do a series of shows around the country, no worries mate! Happily I dozed off to sleep, content in the knowledge that Australia loved me. It wasn’t until I woke the next morning, had shaken away the Quantas red-eye cobwebs and checked on the status of “Beaber Fever” that I realised that the screaming wasn’t for me at all but for the squeaky-voiced adolescent douchebag Justin Bieber. So with no parade to be the guest of honour at, we headed back to the airport to board what was to be the first of many flights inside Australia, to Ayers Rock to see if the Aboriginals had put anything on for my return.

Ayers Rock, or Uluru as we Australians knowingly call it, had been on my Bucket List ever since Mum, Dad & Louis had been there on their mini world tour and had boasted about the wondrous sunsets, sunrises and stars they had seen there. Although we weren’t able to do it with quite the same panache that they had (the exclusive Latitude 131 was a little out of our price range) I was still super excited to see the Rock and experience its Outback magic. We checked in to our hostel and spent an hour or so pouring over the dozens of tour options available to us; should we fork out for the ‘Sounds of Silence’ dinner, a helicopter ride over Uluru at dawn or a camel ride through the desert as the sun is setting? For those of you who have ever travelled on a Gap Yah budget, you’ll appreciate that despite being in some of the best places in the world it is always a little depressing to turn down the amazing options on offer for the cheaper option of a shuttle bus to Uluru to walk around unguided before being dropped off at a car park to watch the sunset with the masses. I realise that this sounds a little spoiled, and it can be true that the best things in life are free, but the lure of the ‘Sounds of Silence’ dinner complete with Australian BBQ and ‘Star Stories’ had been difficult to turn down. I was quickly cheered up though by a trip to the shop to purchase the necessities such as Heinz Baked Beans, Tim Tams, salt and vinegar crisps and Vegemite followed by an amazing sunset over Uluru, with an ice-cold glass of Magners cider in hand!

The next day after an early start to see the sunrise and a breakfast of poached eggs and beans on toast, we packed up a little picnic for our walk around the base of Uluru and boarded the shuttle bus that would take us to the starting point of the walk. We had been in a moral and ethical dilemma over whether to climb up Uluru as the Aboriginals don’t like tourists climbing the Rock as it is considered to be extremely sacred, not to mention dangerous, but despite this it is actually allowed to climb the Rock if you want to. Forrest fancied the challenge but understood my hesitance as we were both keen to respect the wishes of the Aboriginals who are considered to be the ‘original owners’ of Uluru. Luckily the decision was made for us as the climb was closed due to strong winds at the top, so content in the knowledge that we wouldn’t have done it anyway as responsible and ethical Gap Yah’ers we headed off around the base of the incredible glowing red monolith. Until now I have neglected to mention one very serious problem that we had with Ayers Rock, as I have been wondering at how best to explain the torturously irritating additions to our time there. When I say ONE very serious problem, perhaps it would have been more reasonable to say TRILLIONS of serious problems in the form of huge great big flies that buzzed around so incessantly that it was necessary to spend our precious Australian dollars on fly nets to wear very attractively over our heads to keep the flies out of our facial orifices. Needless to say, the picnic was a disaster as I struggled to fit the sandwiches through the holes in the fly net, and proceeded to sulk when I realised that eating the salt and vinegar crisps, which I had so desperately been looking forward to after months of only Mega Queso Doritos in South America, was an impossibility. Safely protected from the swarms of flies buzzing around us, the walk around the base of Uluru took a couple of hours, and despite the difficulties we faced every time we wanted to stop and take a picture sans fly net, the scenery was absolutely stunning and Uluru itself so breath-taking that it is not hard to see why it is so sacred to the Aboriginals. After seeking refuge from the heat and the flies in the Cultural Centre for a while we boarded the bus to go and watch the sunset over Uluru from a viewing spot. I hadn’t forgotten the other tour options available, with complimentary champagne and nibbles as the sun set, but for once I was glad that we had picked the cheapest option as the thought of battling the flies as they tried to share my champagne and canapés was simply too distressing and I felt sorry for those rich people as we stood happily in our sexy fly nets in the car park watching Uluru change colour as the sun set over the desert. It wasn’t the greatest sunset we have seen on our Gap Yah, but I felt an astonishing sense of “the awesome powah of nature"!



We left Uluru the next day to return to one of our favourite spots in Australia thus far – Sydney Airport to take yet another flight, this time to Melbourne where we would be staying with Matt and Jenna. We had met Matt and Jenna (Manna?! Jett?!) during the Lost City trek in Colombia and had formed a bond over the blood, sweat and tears we lost there. We’d separated with promises to write Melbourne in to our itinerary, but this can often happen in Gap Yah circles, “Yeah sure I’ll come visit you in Norway next summer!”, however we had heard such great things about Sydney’s ‘Little Sister’ that we had booked our flights in Cusco and it was confirmed. Arriving late on the Friday night meant that there was only time for a quick catch up and a tour round Jenna’s family home before we collapsed in to bed, exhausted and finally taking time to catch our breath after the long flight from Buenos Aires and a whirlwind trip to the Red Centre. Melbourne is famous for its foodie prowess, and the following morning we experienced the breakfast culture that Matt had told us about, with a trip to Porgies for a scrummy breakfast, before being dropped off on Chapel Street while Jenna went to work. Struggling with the trendy shoppers with bulging bags of lovely new clothes from the cool shops on Chapel Street we escaped in to the sanctuary of the Irish Pub for a pint while we waited for Jenna to come back and rescue us. I did note with some satisfaction that Sports Girl was selling a jumper for $90 that was very similar to the jumpers found on markets all over South America and that I had purchased for the far more reasonable sum of $4! Jenna met us when she had finished work and took us on a tour around the wealthiest neighbourhood in Melbourne’s suburbs, and we were struck again at how everything we had seen so far reminded us of the suburbs of Los Angeles, before meeting Matt and driving to St Kilda (with a quick sushi stop beforehand!) We spent a couple of hours on the beach, drinking Cleanskin wine out of plastic cups watching the buzz of St Kilda on a sunny Saturday afternoon. But the delightful afternoon came to an abrupt end when a horrible seagull did a poo on me, and we went back to Jenna’s to get ready for our BIG SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE TOWN!



Forrest and Matt started the night in style with a trip to watch Richmond vs. Lions (Aussie Rules?) at the MCG, while I did not do this despite the worry that I would miss the half-time show they had put on in my honour. I, wearing borrowed heels two sizes too small, got the train in to the City to meet Ellie, a friend from University who I had not seen for years and was living in Melbourne. To make things easier we went straight to the bar where I had arranged to meet the others later, and I quickly realised that we’d made a wise decision. The view over Melbourne’s CBD from the Rooftop Bar was stunning and we had a great few hours catching up with each other’s lives and everyone we’d ever known at University’s lives as well! Ellie quickly introduced me to her Aussie boyfriend before I went to meet the others in Cookie. Lots of drinks later we ended the night in a fancy kebab shop with actual table and chairs, not unlike Blackburn’s Darwen Street.



After a very shaky and tired start to Sunday morning we woke up just enough to pile in to the car for a day trip to Phillip Island where Jenna has a summer home. We broke up the drive with a quick stop to get donuts from a roadside cart and when we drove over the bridge to the Island we were all feeling a little less dead. Blustering winds whipped away any remaining cobwebs as Jenna took us on a tour of the Island. My guidebook had said that Phillip Island receives around 4.5 million visitors every year, which is 3 million more than Cusco, and with its beautiful sweeping coastlines, pristine beaches with turquoise waves combined with the tiny fairy penguin inhabitants it is not difficult to understand why it so popular. We ended the day at a winery where we sampled some of their wines (no spitting for me!) with a delectable cheese board and nibbly things. Somehow Jenna managed the drive back to Melbourne without falling asleep after our long day, and Matt cooked up kangaroo steaks for us before bed.



Not wanting Jenna to be crowned Tour Guide of the Melbourne Trip, Matt took us on his own tour around the city, showing us everything that Melbourne has to offer. He managed to include everything that Melbourne is famous for and our whirlwind tour took us all over to explore Parliament Square, Southbank and all the other sights around the city before a yummy lunch of dumplings in Chinatown. We then had a coffee and a cupcake in one of Melbourne’s famous Laneways, which reminded me of Diagon Alley in Harry Potter with its hidden nooks and crannies and exciting treasures to discover. We continued exploring the city, stopping to admire the State Library of Victoria and to see where Matt planned to set up a coffee cart on one of the University campuses. Thoroughly satisfied that Matt had shown us the majority of Melbourne’s offerings we headed back to Jenna’s for a roast lamb dinner, something that we had been sorely missing on our Gap Yah, and a very quick visit to Swartz’s CrossFit Melbourne. We said goodbye to Matt that evening as he was up and away early the next morning for a job trial, reminding us that it doesn’t take long for the real world to come creeping back as soon as you abandon Gap Yah and return home. I met up with another friend the next morning, Nicola, who had been a close friend when I was in Trinity Beach. It was unfortunate that it was such a rushed meeting, but we managed to catch up on all the essentials, like who is dating who, as we reunited over poached eggs and pancakes. Jenna drove us to the airport a few hours after I got back from my breakfast with Nicola and we again made promises that we would see each other again, next time in London so we could return their wonderful hospitality. We were a little sad to be leaving the comforts of a family home where we had been treated so nicely, but we didn’t remain down for long as we were going back to SYDNEY AIRPORT, where this time we would actually be leaving the airport in search of P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.



We checked in to our hostel which was located in Kings Cross, infamous for prostitutes and debauchery (the area not the hostel) and were happy to learn that the Harbour Bridge and Opera House were visible from the window in our dorm. Already feeling the purse strings loosen after almost a week in Australia it was time to tighten them again, which can only mean one thing… GOON! Goon is to Gap Yah what steak is to Argentina, or what cocaine is to Colombia , and basically refers to any “wine” that comes in a box that doesn’t list the grape (e.g. Shiraz, Chardonnay), instead calling it ‘Dry White’ or ‘Fruity Red’. You can imagine Forrest’s despair when I explained that this was the way forward while we were in Australia, and he unhappily and unsuccessfully tried to find wine in a bottle that wasn’t ridiculously expensive, even the wines made in Australia were almost double the cost of back home. Unwilling to succumb to ‘Fruitylexia’ adored by Gap Yah’ers Australia-wide, he eventually decided that if he had to buy wine in a box or a bag it would have to be one of the more upmarket ones and we ended up with a wine that had chosen to package their wine like that for environmental reasons rather than for cost so Eco Forrest was happy on all counts. Accompanying our Goon was the first of many poverty-stricken meals in Australia. Having been so used to eating whatever we wanted whenever we wanted in South America, food shopping with a budget again caused some slight disagreements in the supermarket but we eventually settled on pasta and sauce, a Gap Yah staple; cheap, simple and bland.

We woke reasonable early due to the extremely creaky bunk beds in the hostel, and set off to find Nemo. We had decided that the best way to see the city in the little time we had would be with a hop-on-hop-off city bus, which also provided us with transport to Bondi the next day. Our first stop was the Opera House, and we disembarked here and explored the whole area around the Opera House, Circular Quay, The Rocks and Harbour Bridge as I provided a running commentary about the history from my guide book. I’d like to reiterate what I said 5 years ago when I went to Sydney; seeing the iconic structures up close makes you very much aware of just how far away from home you really are, and I had slight pangs of homesickness as we did our own mini harbour tour. We ate our picnic lunch (ham, cream cheese, tomato and vegemite sandwiches, salt and vinegar crisps and Goon) in glorious sunshine in the Botanical Gardens with a view over the harbour before walking around to Mrs MacQuarrie’s chair for that perfect postcard picture of the Opera House and Bridge. Jumping back on the bus where we had left off we continued with our city tour, getting off occasionally at points of interest (normally for a food top-up) and dodging the wind and branches as we drove around the city. Forrest got a bit excited when he saw the KPMG building in the CBD, but Sydney didn’t particularly give me the vibe that I could live there because everything seems to be so ridiculously revolved around tourism unlike Melbourne where I could quite easily see myself living if it wasn’t quite so far away from home. We headed back to the hostel on the last bus of the day just as darkness fell for another meal of pasta and Goon, we had settled in to the Australian stereotype of Gap Yah in no time.



Utilising our city bus tour tickets we caught the bus out to Bondi, and although it was a nice day it wasn’t sunbathing weather due to the gale-force winds which meant that we were able to view the beach in all its glory without the millions of people that flock there and cover the sand. We’d heard mixed things about the beach itself, but I thought it was beautiful, bordered with interesting graffiti and clear waves it was easy to see why it was so famous. I was especially impressed with the swimming pools carved in to the rocks at Bondi, and also later in Bronte, where the sea waves crash over the swimmers who have to be very dedicated (or mad) to swim in the icey water! We attempted the coastal walk to Coogee however the winds were so strong by this point that it was slightly difficult so we only got so far as Bronte where we found protection from the winds and had our picnic (see above) on the grass behind the beautiful little beach and read our books. After a couple of hours we headed back to Bondi to sneak back on to the bus back to the city despite our 24-hour tickets expiring. We were successful and spent the evening planning out the rest of our time in Australia, chatting to a lovely girl from our dorm and eating pie, mash and peas from Pie Face! On our last day in Sydney we once again escaped the hustle and bustle of the city and boarded a ferry to Manly, where we sunbathed on the beach with our clothes on, ate fish and chips and thoroughly relaxed watching the surfers, which is what you’re supposed to do in Manly, before heading back in to the city to pick up our bags and getting on something that we had not been missing at all…A NIGHT BUS!



Having been slightly spoiled with the ‘luxurious’ night buses in South America, with practically fully-reclining seats and waitress service, we were back down to earth with a bump as we boarded the Greyhound that would take us up the East Coast to Byron Bay. Poor Forrest had no room at all for his legs (I was fine obviously) and we were shocked to find that neither food, nor coca tea were going to be served at any point in the journey. We made it through the night though, albeit a little groggy, and arrived in Byron Bay to bright sunshine. Dumping our bags at the hostel unable to check in until a later hour, we went straight to the beach where we cheered on the masses of people taking part in the Byron triathlon and narrowly avoided a seagull attack when we treated ourselves to a cheap picnic lunch of sushi handrolls. The hostel we were staying at was pretty cool, and on our first night there after a pasta dinner we got chatting to a girl who we happily shared our Goon with (“no please, we insist that you help us drink it!”). We were picked up the next day by the Happy Bus which was to take us to Nimbin, an old hippie community where Gap Yah’ers tend to go for one reason only, and it isn’t to visit the Marijuana Museum on the highstreet. After a rather pointless stop at a random waterfall, our next stop was at a very colourful and happy Sunday market where we treated our hangovers to a rustic sausage sandwich and an ice cream as we watched the weird and wonderful world go by, before heading in to Nimbin itself. Too poor to purchase any of the offerings, we amused ourselves by reading the funny shop signs such as “Bring-a-bong” and laughed at people that looked like they’d spent far too much time in Nimbin. We even visited the museum. We met up with the rest of the group for a pathetic excuse for a BBQ, and it quickly became clear that a few other people on the bus obviously had more money than sense and had experimented with the hash cookies that were sold in every shop and were now suffering as a consequence. It was going to be a very long bus ride back to Byron for them! A rainy start to the next day meant that we felt no urge to get out and do anything and spent the morning catching up with things and reading. The rain eventually cleared by around 4pm so we quickly rushed out to do the walk to the lighthouse in search of dolphins. The walk up to the lighthouse was beautiful and although we didn’t get to see any dolphins we were treated to a stunning sunset as we walked back along the beautiful beach to the hostel. To celebrate a lovely time in Byron Bay we treated ourselves to a drink of something other than Goon in an actual bar and then dinner of something other than pasta in the form of jacket potatoes, beans and cheese.



We had planned our trip to Australia down to the letter due to the limited time we had there and the amount of amazing excursions the East Coast offered, which was something new to us after our lackadaisical attitude towards getting around South America, and we had only been able to pick a few of the highlights Australia had to offer. So Ayres Rock, Melbourne, Sydney and Byron Bay had all been ticked off, and it was now time to mingle with our fellow Gap Yah’ers in close quarters with the obligatory tours on Fraser Island and Whitsundays before spending a week of relaxation in Trinity Beach with friends. Advance Gap Yah Fair!

Forrest’s Financial Forecast…

With the exception of Brazil, South America turned out to be mostly inexpensive. Booze, especially beer, was cheap, eating out was cheap, hostels were cheap and activities, tours etc were, wait for it… cheap! This made for a happy budget-conscious Gap Yah’er.

How things change.

As a keen reader of newspapers, always devoting some time to the financial pages, I knew Australia was not going to be cheap before we landed on her soil. With one of the fastest growing economies in the developed world today, Australia shook off the GFC (Global Financial Crisis) as it’s known here as if it were a minor tremor. China’s insatiable appetite for Australia’s raw materials has resulted in a commodity boom and consequently, the Aussie dollar has got stronger and stronger. For those of you who are currently thinking “what the f**k is he talking about?!” I’ll spell it out for you…

strong Aussie dollar + weak British pound = EXPENSIVE!!!!!

Let’s start with the fundamentals, essentials you could say. A Dairy Milk bar back home costs around 60p these days, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Over here it sells for the princely sum of £1.70! ONE POUND SEVENTY! Although, the other day I do confess seeing an offer for two chocolate bars for the tiny sum of £3, which I suppose makes everything okay. And now to booze - although rare, it so happens that every now and again Tesco or Asda will offer three crates of beer, that’s 48 bottles for £20. That’s 42p per bottle and a true gain of the bar variety. Let’s compare the “offer” on at our local bottle shop, a crate (albeit with 20 bottle not 16) for $45, that’s £30. A quick sum reveals that’s £1.50 a bottle; more than three times as much as the UK price. This expensiveness extends to everywhere and everything in Australia; suffice to say the dining-out-every-night days of South America have well and truly come to an end. Whereas in Buenos Aires one could sample the very finest steak for around £8-10, the cost here would be at least double, probably triple. In Melbourne we walked past a restaurant which Matt described as “pretty decent” and steak there cost a cool $120, that’s £80.

Although I have loved every second of this country thus far – there are so many amazing things to see and do, it been tough from a financial perspective. And therefore as we look forward to next part of our Gap Yah adventure in South East Asia, my financial forecast is sweet and simple… things can only get better!!!

Hakuna Matata!

We had finally arrived in the promised land, and immediately after checking in to our hostel (the aptly named Tango Backpackers) Forrest practically pushed me out of the door and in the direction of our first parilla for his long awaited steak and Malbec. With gazillions of steakhouses to choose from in Buenos Aires we went with a recommendation from both my RG and the helpful girl on reception, Don Julio’s. With a name like that there was absolutely no way it would be able to disappoint, and disappoint it didn’t. Conscious that Forrest was probably able to blow our entire Gap Yah fund on steak in the eight days we were in Argentina, we decided against entrées of empanadas and offal and went straight for the good stuff. The menu was slightly confusing, with over ten different cuts of meat all under the steak subheading, but with a little help from our waiter Forrest eventually chose the 600g T-Bone (rare) and I went for the slightly less gluttonous 300g tenderloin (medium-rare), accompanied with chips and salad and washed down with a bottle of Argentinian Malbec. The meal was delicious, everything we had been hoping for, however Forrest was slightly disappointed with his steak, although cooked perfectly around the outside it was more raw than rare towards the centre. He wasn’t deterred though and still managed to find it in himself to finish it all. Exhausted from our red meat and red wine overdose, we dragged ourselves back to the hostel and collapsed into bed, our bodies desperately digesting our meal ready to do it all again for breakfast.



Breakfast brought us another Argentinian delicacy in the form of the divine Dulce de Leche, a little piece of gooey caramel heaven spread on toast (also great eaten with ice cream, in Alfajores, on media-luna croissants and with a tablespoon), we couldn’t help but think that Buenos Aires was going to be tight on our waistlines as much as our budget. We spent the morning catching up with the blog and friends and family back home, and waiting (and waiting) for Kyle and Veronica to come and show us the city. The vigilant Gap Yah followers of you out there may remember Kyle from the Ciudad Perdida entry as the Australian who shamed Forrest by walking the entire trek barefoot without a single glitch. He was now living in Buenos Aires with his Peruvian girlfriend Veronica as she studied at the University there, and they came to meet us at our hostel and took us for lunch in Palermo, the trendy neighbourhood of Buenos Aires where we were staying. Walking to the restaurant I had to draw my eyes away from the alluring shop windows displaying all manner of delightful looking clothes and shoes, which after three and a half months in fashions no-man’s land was pretty difficult to do. Forrest made good on his promise to have steak at least once a day, and we forced down another delicious meal while we reminisced about the good ol’ Lost City days before heading further in to Palermo for happy hour cocktails and made plans for the coming week.

Item number one on the agenda was THE BEST ZOO IN THE ENTIRE WORLD©! I had spent a good few hours poring over Kyle’s photos from Matt and Jenna’s visit, which showed them up close and personal with the cutest lion cubs in the world, and had been excited to meet Simba ever since. We arrived at the zoo to be greeted by a cage with two sleeping lion cubs in it, and Forrest and I eagerly had our picture taken with them, barely able to contain our excitement. Kyle dragged us away, explaining that the best was yet to come, and lead us towards the entrance of the zoo to buy our tickets and a bag of animal feed. The animal feed turned out to be a mistake for as soon as Forrest rustled the brown paper bag he was immediately swarmed by geese of all sizes, ducks, chickens and pigeons all desperate for a tasty piece of corn. Unable to say boo to a goose, I maintained my distance and laughed as Forrest was harassed by his new feathered friends while trying to feed the less offensive farm animals. The next lion cage we went in to had two six-month old lion cubs and one tiger cub, and we all happily stroked them as their keeper explained, translated by Veronica, that the cubs are taken away from their mothers at birth and reared by dogs who teach them how to coexist with humans and how to play safely. If one of the cubs got a little too rough, as is their nature, their “mother” dog would gently nip them to remind them to play more gently. Although the cubs were happy to pose for photos with us, they didn’t particularly like having a huge moonface shoved in their snouts as I quickly found out when trying to give the cutest one a kiss and got a little shock when he tried to bite my nose off.



As we wandered around the zoo, chased by the gaggle of geese that refused to leave us alone, it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t going to be winning any awards for ethics or animal welfare. The farm animals seemed happy enough, but it wasn’t easy to see the two huge bears in a cage barely big enough for a hamster, and the sea lions swimming round and round in a tiny paddling pool. The big cats seemed content enough laying in the sun, despite their smallish cages and kidnapped babies, but when you think about the huge areas they typically inhabit you can’t help but feel that it’s not at all right to keep them cooped up entirely for our viewing pleasure. Not wanting to lament the loss of the animal’s freedom for too long, we cheered ourselves up with a visit to the teeny tiny lion cub enclosure (a much nicer word than cage!) and as we cuddled the sleepy one-month old babies thoughts of animal rights quickly left our heads. Sure it might not have the vast open areas of the Serengeti, or even the conservation facilities of San Diego Zoo, but when were we ever going to get the opportunity to get so close to the king of the jungle again?

After feeding a fully-grown tiger milk out of our hands (y’know, just an everyday occurrence in the life of a Gap Yah’er) it was time to pay a visit to the Lion King. It was a pretty scary experience being so close to such a huge lion and one glance at his humongous paws and massive teeth was enough to remind us that he could tear us to a shred in an instant if we so much as dared to upstage him in the photos. That was not to be a problem as he posed like a pro as we trembled behind him. A camel ride, a baby lama and a sewer rat later and we were all ready to head back to the city to satisfy Forrest’s steak cravings. On our way out we couldn’t help but pay one last visit to the cage in the entrance, luring visitors in with its cute lion inhabitants, now holding four three-month old lion cubs all eager to play with us. As their mother dogs slept, exhausted after a day of lion-rearing, the cubs took the opportunity to go a little wild and while I stroked the more placid of the lions, Forrest made the mistake of lowering himself down to the cubs level, thus providing them with all the encouragement they needed to launch themselves towards him and “attack”. Luckily his years of fending off Sooty’s attacks held him in good stead and he held his own as two of the cubs pawed his face and chewed on his arms and hands. I looked up at one stage to see him practically lying down with one lion licking his head and the other gnawing on his arm as they rolled around the cage! A wonderful end to a roaringly successful day in the lion’s den.



We caught the bus back in to the city, and after changing hostels and washing away the hay and fleas (probably) it was time for more steak and red wine. Kyle and Veronica met us at our hostel and took us to Puerto Madero, the richest neighbourhood in Buenos Aires, for a surprisingly cheap buffet filled with delicious sushi, salads, pastas and of course the ubiquitous Argentinian churrasco. Between them Forrest and Kyle must have devoured at least a whole cow and a whole pig before admitting defeat, but somehow still managed to find a little extra room for some tiramisu! The boys suggested a little recline at a nearby bar to let our food digest before we headed off, but to all of our dismay the Hooters next door was closed so instead we jumped in a taxi to La Catedral, a tango club in a decidedly less well-to-do neighbourhood than Puerto Madero. La Catedral had been highly recommended by Doug so we were confident of its credentials, but as we pulled up outside a rather seedy looking joint I was slightly worried that we had brought our friends along to a crack den rather than a popular tango club. We nervously climbed the stairs to the club, not knowing whether we were going to dance or die, but to our delight we were greeted with mood lighting, a live band and couples gracefully tangoing across the crowded dance floor rather than knives, needles and nightmares. The professional couples illuminating the dance floor with their tango prowess wouldn’t have been out of place in a glittering ballroom in the world’s finest dance halls, but the atmosphere and design at La Catedral couldn’t have been less akin to Blackpool’s Empire if it tried. Situated in a dilapidated warehouse, the crumbling walls were hidden behind crazy modern art mixed with old Argentinian eclecticism. We watched from the side-lines, too shy to join in with the ridiculously professional seeming dancers, as we were seduced by the charm and character of La Catedral. The night came to a magical conclusion when the dance floor cleared and the tangoers were replaced with a band and a singer who serenaded their audience with lilting Argentinian melodies. Happily satiated with excellent food, red wine, company and tango we headed back to our new hostel for bed.



The next day was spent relaxing in the hostel, doing the obligatory “chores” of blogging, photo uploading and skyping. We left only to get some empanadas to mollify our grumbling hungover stomachs, but they were not particularly happy with our accidental offerings; tuna empanadas with icing on top. Even less delicious than they sound. The day after, happily rested, we set off to explore the city. Our first stop was the astounding Recoletta cemetery, whose ornate mausoleums towered over us as we wandered around awestruck, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The highlight however was Eva ‘Evita’ Peron’s grave, which is somewhat of a shrine to her and understandably crowded with tourists wanting to take photos. I did a little rendition of the Madonna classic ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’ to the adoring onlookers, but was slightly disappointed not to have a balcony present for everyone to fully appreciate my vocal prowess. We quickly got bored of wandering around the cemetery and although it was interesting to see the elaborate crypts, at the end of the day it is still just a graveyard and that can only amuse one for so long. We very quickly made our way through the touristic nightmare on Florida Avenue, and had a delicious cheap lunch of burritos before heading to the slightly more upmarket Café Tortoni, an old tango café that is somewhat of an institution now after 150 years, for coffee and cake. We had to queue a little before we were allowed in, but once inside it was easy to see why people flock there. Aside from the mouthwateringly amazing cakes, the atmosphere inside transports you back to 1858 but one can only imagine the elegance and style of the customers back then sipping cocktails as they tangoed their way around the mirrored rooms, sidestepping the writers and artists that made Café Tortoni their home. We were brought back to reality with a pretty harsh bump when we stopped by to see Les Madres de Plaza Mayo. Les Madres are a group of women whose children went “missing” during the dirty war in Argentina, and ever since then they have marched in Plaza Mayo every Thursday from 3:30-4:00 for thirty years in protest of this and to draw attention to their plight. The determination and heartbreak still so present on these women’s faces is clear to see as they chant their way around the square holding up photographs of their children, who they have never given up the hope of finding, or at least finding out what happened to them. It is sometimes easy to forget as a Gap Yah’er visiting these countries that the difficulties of their pasts are still ever present and it is important to take a moment from beaches, drinking and buses to appreciate the true spirit of the people who live in these countries and are still fighting for freedom in one way or another. Although a slightly subdued ending to a lovely day sightseeing in Buenos Aires, we ended on a high note with more steak and red wine, this time with Jackie and Simon a couple we had met right back at the beginning in Rio de Janeiro.

Good Friday brought us something completely different to the repetition of sightseeing in the form of a theme park in Tigre with Kyle. Our expectations weren’t particularly high, but we were excited to experience something new in South America and I had thoroughly checked out the park’s health and safety credentials beforehand. We keenly rushed on to the two main attractions, upside down and spinny rollercoasters which were of a pretty good standard but nowhere near Alton Towers amazingness. Once they were done we tried out the other rides but our childlike enthusiasm quickly waned as we realised that they were probably kid’s rides and Forrest and Kyle struggled to even get their legs under the safety bars. The boys got some amusement out of the fairground style stalls, with Forrest winning me a tiny little prize on the basketball game, but after going on the big rides for a second time it seemed as though our day out at the theme park had come to an end. Not the greatest day out ever, but it was still good to get out of the city and do something different. Forrest met up with Kyle again the next night to go and watch a River Plate football match, something he had been looking forward to since the disappointment of the Maracana being closed in Brazil, and he tells me that it was a good match, they kicked the ball and ran up and down the pitch, but in the end River Plate lost which was a little bit rubbish.



I had used the time wisely while Forrest had been at the football and created an easter egg hunt around the hostel for Forrest for the next day, which was exhausting trying to think of witty rhyming clues (in one I rhymed ‘pillow’ with ‘fellow’!), but when I eventually managed to drag him out of bed on Easter Sunday he was thoroughly appreciative (not just of the unexpected early morning chocolate) and a few of my clues even managed to bamboozle him for at least five seconds. His favourite clues were “The Easter Bunny is such a cool geezer, he’s hidden an egg inside the …”, and “The Easter Bunny has fallen over, what a clumsy tit. Perhaps there’s an egg inside the first …?” – can you figure out where the eggs were hidden?! After the excitement of the egg hunt, we headed in to La Boca to see the colourful houses on the little touristy street filled with tango shows and photo opportunities with Maradona. We settled down with a jug of sangria as we watched the dancers perform and spent an hour or so people watching on the busy street, the highlight of this being a dog wearing a little pink hat! We then quickly rushed to San Telmo where we dodged the market laden streets to meet Kyle and Veronica for one last steak before we left for Australia. After we had satisfied our steak needs (it was becoming an addiction) we set off to go for a drink in Puerto Madero as Forrest and Kyle were determined to have at least one drink in Hooters! I am not going to dwell on what happened next but what followed was a very annoying pickpocket scam on the subway carried out with very little skill but nevertheless the thief was successful in securing one All Saints wallet, 500 pesos, one immediately cancelled Nationwide credit card and a UK driving license with the stern glare of Forrest to constantly remind him of his sins. To make things worse we were then subjected to another attempted mugging whilst we tried to board a subway to report the first incident, however Kyle’s diligence and alertness thwarted it. Luckily we had Kyle and Veronica with us to help us out both with Spanish and cash so the situation wasn’t desperate but just a little dire, and although it was unfortunate that it had to happen on our last night in South America it couldn’t put a dampener on our incredible time over the last three and a half months. We were treated to breakfast at Veronica’s the next morning, as saying goodbye a little depressed on the subway the night before hadn’t been very appealing, before heading to the airport to board a very long flight around the world to the next leg of our Gap Yah adventure… Australia!



South America was everything that we had thought it was going to be and more. I would be hard pressed to find something that I hadn’t enjoyed about it, and even the bit rubbish things like tummy upsets, the poverty in some places and the pickpockets all add to the adventure and turn the trip in to something that would otherwise be just a holiday. After all, as David Brent quite rightly said “to see the rainbow you have to put up with the rain” and what a rainbow we had seen in South America. Bueno.

Forrest’s South American Final Final Thought…

After a wondrous three and a half months in South America, I leave with only splendiferous memories. South America has everything a Gap Yah’er could possibly want; from the pristine sandy white beaches and turquoise waters of Colombia’s Caribbean coast, to the spectacular sunsets over the Amazonian jungle and the awe-inspiring snow-capped peaks of the Andean mountains. And let’s not forget the delectable cuisine of Buenos Aires. However, as with everywhere and everything on this planet, there’s always room for improvement, and therefore I would like to conclude with Forrest’s Top Ten Tips for Improving South America.

1. Make the Brazilian bikini bottoms smaller.
2. Either i, tarmac the lost city trek in Colombia or ii, provide emergency foot wear stops along the way.
3. Lower the altitude of the continent; such an easy and simple step to take yet it will save thousands from the dreaded altitude sickness.
4. Improve the provision of, access to and quality of red wine throughout the continent (with the exception of Argentina and Chile of course!) - it is inhumane to subject people to the likes of Brazilian suave on an eight day trip up the amazon.
5. When it comes to surfing lessons, surf boards must be fit for purpose. Inappropriate and unsuitable equipment can give the unfair impression of clumsiness.
6. Compulsory English lessons for all – without them the continent will never shake off its label of linguistic ignorance and arrogance.
7. The security on the Argentina subte (subway) has to be improved; pick pockets should be lifers.
8. Take whatever steps possible to end Brazil’s economic boom thus putting an end to the extortionate prices paid by Gap Yah’ers.
9. Animals from zoos and conservation centres around the world should be repatriated to the jungle. It is the right and proper thing to do – Gap Yah’ers shouldn’t have to wander around the rainforest aimlessly.
10.DO NOT close the Maracana in Rio de Janeiro whilst footballer lovers, including yours truly, are in the city. Excuses such as “renovations for the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics are currently taking place” are, quite frankly, pathetic.