The Vagabonds

As opposed to the other diary entries, this final conclusive contemplation shall be succinct and laconic.
This is a general all-encompassing thank you to those people we have met, countries we have explored and cultures we have experienced.

Travelling over the prior nine months provided an elusive escapism from the mundane monotony of routine and banal familiarity. Most ignorant, superficial preconceptions of those unbestknown to you are absent on the road. The people we have met and befriended have been amongst the most genial, affable and amiable we have ever encountered in our lives. Although many served as deus ex machinas on our travels, offering momentary glimpses of insight or mild entertainment, hopefully many more will be part of an eternal relationship in our lives.

Over the forthcoming years whilst we are studying at university or working in a job, the pensive notion that a fluctuating microcosm of travellers are still flourishing across the globe will give us strength, hope and enlightenment. Life is there to be lived and we can now sincerely assert that we have seized an auspicious opportunity that required grace, courage and audacity.

Nevertheless, we have now reached a time where we yearn for our family and friends. Likewise, there are certain misdemeanours about travelling which we will be elated to abandon; hard mattresses, unkempt dorms, bed bugs, filthy showers, dirty clothes, damp towels, a monotonous diet comprised of pasta, ketchup and bread, interminable bus journeys, inconsistent sleep and a perennial invasion of privacy.
But these are, of course, sparse and inconsequential in comparison to the pristine perks.

Our lives will continue to expediently glide along, but these memories will linger in our hearts forever.

Thanks for reading.

Pepe and Jakey

With the impending end waltzing closer and the steady cadence of time suddenly stimulated, the final portion of our trip comprised of the most prestigious, venerable and exuberant city’s in North America and therefore, the world.
Unfortunately, Toronto, which inaugurated this segment was disappointing, obfuscating and ugly.
Maybe it was because the title of the largest city in Canada bestowed an unprecedented expectation upon it. Perhaps it is a city whose rudimentary wantonness is exposed only to those who diurnally reside there as opposed to tourists who merely visit it. Nevertheless Toronto was bereft of a palatable lure that would have quenched our travellers thirst.
The ubiquitous posters which averred that to live in Toronto is to “live with culture” epitomised the city’s primary problem; it is comprised of such an abundance of eclectic cultures that it failed to have one of its own.
During one day’s meandering we visited an expansive Chinatown, a quaint Little Italy, a poor Little Portugal, the Kensington Markets which seemed to attract subterranean members of society and the regal ‘Casa Loma’ castle that was situated on the periphery of the city. Some of these epochs were so small and inconsequential that they became beguiling and destitute of character.
There were two landmarks that permeated the skyline as if they were perpetually tracing every solitary step we made. The most conspicuous was the ‘CN Tower’ which is the largest structure in the world, whereas idling by its side was the Sky Dome sports stadium. In the latter we watched a baseball game between the Toronto Blue Jays and the Chicago White Sox that was more of a tepid family event than a rigorous, a rancorous…an exhilarating game of sport beset by a loquacious crowd of fanatical zealots. Jakey at least managed to meet Oren, an aide from the Maccabiah, at the game, who is a Toronto citizen.
Primarily due to its interminable size, we also visited the viewing platform of the CN Tower. Though it overlooked the city, the sight was fairly mundane as it only unveiled a plethora of streamlines of the adjacent suburbs; there was not a single sight to actually search for as we were standing on top of the only one of any merit in Toronto.
As Ivan – a friend of Pepe’s who genially showed us around the city – adroitly explained, there is nothing to ’see’ in Toronto; one of its most famous landmarks bar the CN Tower is a bank.

Auspiciously, the grey tincture of Toronto’s industrialised metropolis augmented our following experience.
The name ‘Niagara Falls’ resonates throughout the world as one of the most mystic, egregious and exquisite natural landmarks. It is celebrated as one of the seven wonders of the world, and rightfully so.
Whilst the falls lack height, the sheer width and incessantly unyielding turbulence at which the water is hurled over the crevice is an ineffable spectacle. The perennial consistency of the water falling emits a sound that is as pacifying as the cool whirling of an electric fan on a hot and humid summers day.
We were submerged in the mist generated by the tumult of the crash and clamber of the waterfall as we boarded the ‘Maid of the Mist’ vessel that glided close enough to the falls for us to realise their true vehemence.
After observing the spectacle from a viewing platform by the side of the falls, we realised how salubriously smooth the water was until it efficaciously fell and plummeted to the bottom of the lake where it then effervescently frothed and became disparate.
At night the soft and delicate colours construed to shine upon Niagara Falls did not vitiate the prodigious reverence we had of the waterfall, but instead, it romanticised our perspective of them by creating an astute juxtaposition of artificial and natural entities; of serenity and perseverance.

On the same night that we visited Niagara Falls, we commuted back to Toronto and subsequently onwards to Chicago via a stop-over at the US customs border in Detroit.
Initially we did not consider visiting Chicago due to time, monetary and practical burdens upon our trip. Aaron, the Chicago school teacher we met in Noosa (who has since set-up an IT Consultancy firm with three other partners), offered such a discerning and visual account of his hometown city via email that the temptation became too hard to resist. Furthermore, although he was away on a vacation, he offered us residency in his apartment with his room-mate and business partner Todd.
To express how gracious we feel towards Todd and Aaron would occupy a sole entry within itself. Therefore, to make this diary at least remotely succinct, we will only describe what we did in Chicago without any emotional attachment.
The downtown area of the city was immaculately pristine with the spacious streets appeasing the cumbersome burden of a densely populated area. Surprisingly a golden sanded beach sat on the Eastern side of the city, which we visited on a pungently sunny day with Aaron after he had returned from his vacation. The contemporary ‘Millennium Park’ lay nearby which, although minutely small, contained several impeccable artifices including an emollient reflective ‘jelly bean’ that contorted images of the encompassing city’s skyline.
One dusk we went to the pinnacle of the city’s highest building – The Sears Tower.
Also, although Chicago is desperately trying to eradicate its notorious mafia history, the remnants still remain and we visited the sight o the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre after a long, prolonged walk from the city centre.
What distinguished our experience in Chicago from the rest of our travels though was the affable hospitality of our hosts. For one week our travelling went on a hiatus and we saw what it was like to live in an American city. Altruistically, Aaron and Todd treated us to a ‘Chicago’ deep-pan pizza which is a capacious quiche-like concoction and a Mexican burrito that is two-fold the size of an English kebab. Even just walking around the Wicker Park suburb where they Aaron and Todd resided was a mellifluous expedient from our travels. Similarly, playing baseball in the park and visiting a local yet flourishing music festival accentuated our palpable grasp of the Chicago lifestyle.

Once our week in Chicago concluded we traveled onwards to Washington D.C. The week we spent in the capital of the most economically and militarily powerful country in the world was primarily consumed visiting museums and national monuments. Although D.C. is not as renowned as other cities in the USA, most of its landmarks are distinguishable and known for their symbolic merits. Surprisingly, The White House was more modest than we expect whereas conversely, Congress was a saliently imposing concourse. Although these institutions are so imperative for both America and the modern world to operate, it was by the Lincoln Memorial which overlooked the reflecting pool, Washington Monument and Capitol Hill that we felt a stringent poignancy of meaning. This was fundamentally because of the history which had occurred underneath our own very feet – principally Martin Luther King’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech – but also due to the solemn, tranquil setting this view provided at night.

And next was New York…
The nucleus of American capitalism, consumerism and globalisation was particularly pertinent for Jakey as, after over nine months, it was an opportunity to finally meet his sister Danielle again. Being in New York, the tourist allure was too difficult to resist so we succumbed to visiting the reputed ‘Statue of Liberty’, Times Square, Central Park (and Strawberry Fields), Wall Street, Ground Zero, Broadway (where Pepe watched an irreverent risque show entitled Avenue Q) and watching the city thrive from above in the observation deck of the Empire State Building. In the latter, New York’s working ethos became conspicuously apparent, yet, juxtaposed against this was the emollient sounds of the city’s streets, cars and teeming population.
Amidst our time in New York we made a day excursion to Boston, Massachusetts with the venerable Brian Quimby. There we visited the prestigious campus of Harvard University, which was, surprisingly, somewhat meagre. Boston was ultimately a quaint city, epitomised by ‘Quincy Market’ and its small, yet mellifluous cobbled paths, exuding a tepid atmosphere.

Our departure of the immense cosmopolitan metropolis of New York saw us subsequently return to Canada.
Upon our arrival in Quebec, the bus station’s predominantly French signs gave us a pithy precedent of what to anticipate in this ‘Francophone’ (i.e. French speaking) region of Canada. Pepe’s good friends Francoise (Frank) and Mattia met us at the bus station; the former is a local resident of Quebec city who propitiously allowed us to reside at his house; the latter is an Italian whose travels of Canada auspiciously concorded with our own.
The impeccable timing of our visit to Quebec enabled us to celebrate the regions national holiday – St. Bastille Day – which annunciates French-Canadian’s independent culture and lust for full sovereignty. This event was the climax of our short stay in Quebec city however. In the intervening time we indulged in two activities whilst also being graciously hosted by Frank’s ebullient, flamboyant and fascinating parents who embraced us so wholly into their house that we truly felt like family. The first activity was whale watching in the nearby town of Charlesvoix where the lascivious black mammals furtively emerged from the water, occasionally cajoling the onlooking crowd by obsequiously flipping their long laborious tails before dipping back into the cool water again. The second was a visit to the ‘Olympic Village’ water park which had a fun and frivolous array of aquatic attractions ranging from a weltering wave pool to a sundry of generic slides.
Nothing quite prepared us for St. Bastille Day though.
Inebriation aside, the sheer fervent vigour with which the masses of Francophone’s celebrated their culture – most dressed in local insignia or draped with flags – was mesmerising. The streets were so condensed with students and patriotic people that they emerged into one large phalanx of ebbing heads. Most of the night was spent watching a free concert featuring local Quebecois bands sing about their pride, pomp and heritage.
When we left Quebec for our final stop in Montreal, Mattia joined us.

The weather in Montreal did somewhat undermine the experience; we have been following blissful, pungent sunshine for months, yet here, sullen clouds permeated the sky. Although the older buildings of Vieux Montreal juxtaposed with those of the city’s central hub, the transition was relatively subtle and beguiling to the eye. Our pitiful hostel, which was laden with bed bugs and bereft of kitchen utensils (After Mattia managed to conjure up a dinner for us one night, all three of us awoke the next morning feeling dormant and melancholy, undoubtedly due to the abysmal hygienic aesthetics) was located on the slick and chic ‘Mont royal’. There was unfortunately little to see or do in Montreal, but that, at least, enabled us to probe the city to its fullest extent. One night we watched an adroitly executed firework display that endured for 45 minutes, with a vast and fluctuating array of vivacious colours; another night we observed two free shows from the prestigious jazz festival. Ultimately, Montreal gave us time to recuperate before returning back home to England.

So: 38 weeks or 266 days 0r 5852 hours 0r 351120 minutes later, we have returned home.
The way this final diary entry has developed epitomises the final month of this trip or possibly the whole excursion in general; it gathered momentum with each passing day becoming more ineffable…more intrinsically emotional. Every moment has been implanted upon our minds, our conscience, our psyche and we now feel stronger, more complete and resolute human beings.

They think its all over…it is now.

Jet-lag defies all rational forms of comprehension: We departed Fiji at 22:00 on the 20th April. After a fourteen hour flight we arrived in Vancouver at 19:00 on the same day.
As a result of the abating time difference the first five days in Canada were primarily spent moping around, tired, lethargic and wanting sleep.
Nevertheless, during this transitional period we managed to explore the venerated metropolis, visiting its eclectic array of markets, districts and suburbs. Vancouver’s street scape exuded the consummate North American aura whilst remaining distinctly Canadian. For such a pivotal and prestigious city it was relatively tranquil with both pedestrian and road traffic emanating a conspicuous presence without ever becoming excessive. There was unfortunately a pervasive drug and homeless problem with the city however. Notably (or even notoriously) when we waled through ‘East Hastings’ near Chinatown, every corner was diffused with vacuous and delirious souls either wanting another ‘hit’, providing one, or, in most cases, both. Whilst this vicinity juxtaposed with the other pristine and almost unblemished districts of Vancouver, this fact and reality lingered throughout.
In the city’s renowned urban park the aforementioned harsher facts eluded us. The first time we visited Stanley Park we simply meandered around the verduous gardens whilst absorbing the sunny milieu. On our return to the park a week later after we had visited Seattle however, we opted to Rollerblade. Jakey with his habitual ostentatious confidence was adamant that he knew how to skate and that furthermore, he was actually quite good at it. Once we fitted the Rollerblades to our and exited the rental shop though, guess who was plummeting down the street unable to brake. Guess who was flailing like a frail child. Guess who subsequently crashed into Pepe…
Elsewhere in Vancouver we visited Granville Island – an adjacent suburb – and the Lynn Canyon National Park where we trekked in the backwoods.

Now, if you try to envisage a minute city that has conglomerated every British stereotype, regardless of how trite or crass, you will inevitably be conjuring up a vividly lucid perception of Victoria, on Vancouver Island. We visited this city in a day, which in retrospect was unjustified, primarily due to the interminable entourage of public transportation services we had to utilise (three buses and one ferry each way), which consequently limited our time to a mere four hours there. Despite this, because of Victoria’s affinity with tourism, everything worthwhile seeing was condensed and dubiously overt, which allowed us to grasp the city’s conception fairly quickly. With big red buses dancing streets laden with Victorian era architecture, Victoria was more like London than the English capital itself!

Contrasting to Victoria, our journey back to base and then onwards to Seattle, USA, returned us to a cosmopolitan atmosphere. Seattle evoked a similar ambiance to Vancouver except possibly being more liberal. On the day we arrived we walked to a viewpoint on the periphery of the city centre which exposed its pre-eminent, voluptuous skyline that invoked awe and inspiration in both of us. The compact proximity of the salient skyscrapers epitomised Seattle; it is vast, prodigious and beautiful whilst still somehow managing to remain quaint and intimate.
The following day we saw the city from a different perspective at the top of the skyline’s centrepiece – The Space Needle. Again there was a distinct tranquility for a city as the cacophonous sundry of noise conventionally emitted by any city was soft and distant from the steep summit.
Before we left Seattle we also visited the ‘Pike Place Market’ which sold a plethora of immaculate and delectable goods. It also hosted the location of the original Starbucks. The urge was too overwhelming, so we succumbed in purchasing a cup of their finest coffee each from there.

Via an overnight stop-over in Vancouver we commuted upwards to the cold and snowy plains of Whistler. There, we spent five days skiing on snow blades (truncated skis). By the third day we had perfected our balance and techniques, thus allowing us to venture down the expert slopes, albeit carefully.
Every night, upon returning to the hostel, we indulged in placating our cold, frozen bodies by relaxing in a teeming hot tub. At the hostel we also met two idiosyncratic characters, both from Vancouver: ‘Jackson’ who was a member of the expansive Chinese community and was capricious but perennially jovial; and Robert, a furtive Christian Missionary whose body was as robustly built as a horses.

After Whistler and our final stop-over in Vancouver (where we saw a man grappling hold of his blood-soaked arm which had just been bludgeoned, upon checking in at our hostel), we visited two of the worlds most revered National Parks: Banff and Jasper. Without access to a vehicle it was difficult to diverge into the solemn backwoods of either park, but nevertheless, particularly in the former, we still managed to view landscapes and scenes of idyllic beauty.
In Banff we witnessed Lake Louise; the immense lake which gloriously shimmers in front of the colossal, protruding rocky mountains. When we visited, the lake was frozen and the vicinity was saturated with icy white snow. This egregious sight was not mitigated by the ice as it still remained as majestic and salubrious as we had anticipated.

From Jasper we travelled to a flamboyant young town in B.C. entitled Nelson, before continuing on to Calgary three days later. Although Calgary is an internationally renowned city, its aesthetic qualities are unequivocally subservient to its inordinated reputation. The buildings there are monolithic and rustic and it generally appeared to be a decadent city with a thriving history.
During our visit there we ambled through the city and the Prince’s Island Park whilst also visiting their celebrated ‘Pengrowth Saddledome’ stadium which hosts the Calgary Flames ice hockey team.

The day we departed Calgary we watched the dismally disappointing Champions League Final before commuting over to Edmonton. That night upon arriving in the provincial capital of Alberta, ‘The Edmonton Oilers’ had just won a pivotal hockey game in the ‘Stanley Cup’ playoffs, so the city ignited with euphoria and alcohol. Propitiously, our experience was augmented as our hostel was adjacent to ‘Whyte Avenue’ where drunk masses of unruly teenagers were gathering, chanting an abundance of outlandish quips and songs in harmonical cadence. Because of this a palpable police force was nearby, prepared to extinguish any remnant of a riot, although, people were still climbing lamp posts, emitting fireworks and sometimes even brawling.
The following day we went to the largest shopping mall in the world, complete with the worlds only indoor bungee jump, the worlds only indoor ‘loop’ rollercoaster, the worlds largest indoor water park and also an ice rink, a crazy golf course and a Sea Lion show, you know, for the kids.

Edmonton was the last destination on the West Coast’ of Canada. Our next amalgamation of stop-offs – Saskatoon, Regina and Winnipeg – all deemed to be Prairie City’s in the centre of Canada, were small, introvert and secluded.
We found them to be so mundane, so tedious, that we were ineffably impressed at how unimpressive they were. In the latter, whilst waling along a river bank, both of our pairs of feet became absolutely immersed in a beguiling mud swamp. Whilst Pepe managed to adroitly manoeuvre himself out of the viscous substance, Jakey was momentarily stuck and therefore had to consequently remove one of his trainers to enable his escape. This was no substantial loss however as the aforementioned articles of footwear were so torn and ravaged by the toils of trekking and travelling that they were unsuitable for even the most deprived of homeless persons.

To escape the lethargic lands of Winnipeg, we had to endure a 32 hour bus journey to Ottawa. In Canada’s Capital City, the neo-gothic Victorian Parliament House sits comfortably by the river bank. On the same prolonged strip we also toured the Supreme Court of Canada’s building and visited their colossal war museum.

And tomorrow we leave for Toronto!!!

Melbourne may be perceived as the windy, as the cold, as the sullen, morose and turbid capital of Australia, but, despite it being our final destination in ‘the land down under’, nothing prepared us for New Zealand’s climate.

Arriving in Christchurch (what a prodigious name to write about in the Jewish Telegraph) close to midnight, we were quickly scuttled into a shuttle bus and driven to our night’s accommodation. It was only in the morning, as we exited our hostel, bound to explore the city, that the acerbic wind stifled our anxious bodies and offered a foreboding warning of the palpable New Zealand weather. Every bellow and blow of the wind’s mighty gusto conjured up vivid memories of England’s spring milieu. Nevertheless, although the may sound murky and morbid, it complemented New Zealand’s rich egregious scenery and Victorian architecture aptly.

Christchurch itself seemed moribund; the building’s were decadent, monolithic and minute – their tallest structure is a renowned and prominent cathedral, located in the centre of the city. Our youth hostel – ‘Cokers’ – which was a tired, old and forlorn converted pub, epitomised the city pertinently. We are both still disputing whether ‘Cokers’ was an eponymous name as several of our fellow inmates effusively meandered through the hostel in an aloof malaise both day and night.
Essentially there were three demographics residing in the hostel though: Two bemused British backpackers, the aforementioned ‘Cokers’ and…the Israeli’s.
Maybe it is because of the war, or, because they wanted to relax following an incessantly arduous three years of army duty, but it was beguiling to see that every Israeli who was not back at home or making a speech at The King David High School was residing at ‘Cokers’.
One of these we befriended and quickly made a strong affinity with was ‘Yuval’ from “just outside Tel Aviv”. With Yuval we embarked on a couple of capricious expeditions, most eminently on our final night in Christchurch when we drove to the adjacent Port Hills with two South Korean girls to view the delicate, flickering lights of the city below us. The ethereal clouds which permeated the hills were a just symbol of Christchurch with their hazy yet potentially ominous draconian features that moved as ubiquitously as a stalkers shadow…

Following several days of resting, adapting to New Zealand and exploring Christchurch we finally departed from the city and boarded ‘The Kiwi Experience’; a backpackers bus. We will leave our incrimination’s pertaining the aforementioned dastardly service for another musing and focus solely on what we saw and…experienced!

Firstly, we visited Kaikoura where we saw a seal colony and walked around the coastal circumference for four hours before leaving for Nelson the next day.

Now, if anyone doubts or criticizes our commitment to frugal budgeting we will personally send you to Nelson – all expenses paid for – and force you to sleep in the dormitory we were subjected to, for three nights. ‘The Fridge’, was the consummate option for thrifty travellers; it was a twenty bed dorm, built out of wood, with dim sanguine lights, without heaters and it resembled a garden hut which used is solely used to store superfluous household items.
Pepe on the first night was shaking and trembling and shivering and quivering so impetuously, so unceasingly, that the genial girl sleeping the bunk below him, who herself obviously could not sleep either, offered her blanket to him THREE times out of sheer pity. Jakey on the other hand wore – and therefore insulated himself – with THREE layers of clothing! Furthermore there was pervasive yet silent speculation about whether death himself was sleeping amongst us, primarily because of the ninety year old tenant who was as fragile as a feather and as brittle as a glass bottle, who slept in the fridge every night, dressed in wellingtons and a trench coat!

The good news is that we persevered for the three nights and survived. Unfortunately we cannot clarify the status of the old man.

During our regressive stay in Nelson we visited the Abel Tasman National Park where we engaged on an arduous walk of a mountain whereby we were walking up a steep incline for several hours before having to quickly plummet back down to the bottom in order to catch our bus. The view from the pinnacle, of the voluptuous shimmering water crashing in a gentle cadence against the nearby islands was worth the initial travails however.

After Nelson we commuted through Westport (where was saw ‘the Pancake Rocks’ and blowholes), Greymouth and Lake Mahinapua before finally arriving in Franz Josef which situates the capacious, smooth and icy glacier of the same name. There we embarked on a day hike up the salient landscape which revealed a whole array of white, blue and azure colours. The hot showers back our hostel were undoubtedly hitherto one of the most resplendent gifts of the trip.
Then we continued to move down the South West coast of New Zealand’s south island, arriving in Queenstown via a nightly stop in Wanake where we ambled around the towns colossal lake and later toured ‘Puzzling World’.
We did not indulge in anything particularly memorable during our first visit to Queenstown bar our climb up to the top of one of the city’s contiguous mountains. But, after we travelled further south to Te Anu and Milford Sound, we returned to Queenstown, determined with a bullfighters thirst to jump off ‘The Nevis’ – a 134 metre high bungy jump.
The day finally arrived – fittingly on Pepe’s birthday – to complete our chosen task and, as our shuttle bus slowly climbed up the rocky mountain, an eerie solemn silence diffused the car.
To board the bungy platform itself (which was located in the middle of a gorge) we needed to take a short ride in a cable cart where out inhibitions awaited us.
Jakey was the first to jump. The demented look of determination remained on his face throughout the whole ordeal as his legs thrust him into the air. Due to his severe inability to enforce simply instructions he failed to pull a strap which would have propped him up perpendicularly as he was dangling at the bottom of the gorge. Subsequently he was pulled back up to the platform like a hopeless puppet, flailing his arms and looking downwards.
Then, as the penultimate jumper, it was Pepe’s turn. Rationality overwhelmed his discordant sense as he prepared to jump, resulting in him half falling off the platform before being pulled back by the operators because he was too close to the edge of the platform. Delirious following this he hurled himself headlong off the platform like a declining airplane. Pepe, of course, managed to pull the strap.
The ecstatic euphoria generated by our lingering adrenaline was perfect for a night of convival birthday celebrations. Pepe first drank at a bar permanently maintained at -5 degrees before meeting up with Jakey and several friends from Te Anu and Christchurch. As a frivolous and motley entourage we then went bar hopping.

A few days later following compulsory stop-offs in Christchurch and Kaikoura again, we boarded the ferry at Picton and soon arrived in the country’s capital, Wellington, on the north island.
Wellington’s industrial buildings resembled Christchurch’s except without the latters archaic charm. Even the city centre looked more like an illicit and debauched favella than a bustling vivacious capital. Auspiciously however, when we were dropped off on the wrong side of the city by the Kiwi Experience bus (we told you that we will leave our discrepancies for another rant), the woman who gave us directions was coincidentally Jewish and she subsequently invited us to join her synagogue for a shabbat meal on the following night. In the ensuing day and hours before our engagement we visited ‘Te Papa’ – New Zealand’s primary museum -, the New Parliament House and ambled through the city.
Friday night dinner was a welcome digression from our habitual pasta & noodles and the community was welcoming, affable and humble. After the service ended we were invited back to a girls house to drink, chat and eat chalah! Melanie was a gracious host and when both finally left at 3:00 am we had to walk through the aforementioned glum and degenerated streets. Fortunately we returned to the hostel an hour later without an altercations.

So, first there was the glacier hike, then the 134 metre bungy jump, and finally, to complete our triathlon of extreme activities, at our next destination, Taupo, we went skydiving. The sensation differed from bungy jumping because, when you are 15,000 feet in the air, fear eludes you due to a conglomeration of the planes deep rumbling engine, the vociferous wind and friction perennially blowing against your face and, finally, the immense scenery surrounding you. The glide down to earth was almost romantic as we drifted through the sky like a despondent raindrop. Our dive-site had all the natural elements of a scenic panorama; fertile fields, protruding mountains and the glistening effervescent lake Taupo.

The end of our voyage around New Zealand was by now dawning upon us. Soon we arrived in Auckland – our final departure point for Fiji – after we briefly visited Rotorua, Waitomo and the Bay of Islands. There is little to say about Auckland: It houses over half of New Zealands 4 million population, it is the country’s commercial capital, the southern hemispheres tallest building is located in the city centre and it is known as the “city of sails” even though we only saw a few scores of boats.

Our flight to Fiji was just over two hours long. Upon arrival we were greeted with what was the first of many ‘Bula songs’.
Primarily, in Fiji, we relaxed. Pepe spent most of his days reading whereas Jakey basked himself under the sun. During our short stay there we visited six islands (Nadi, Nanuya Lailai, Tavewa, Naviti, Kuata and Bounty), but only three are worth mentioning:
In Nanuya Lailai we resided at ‘Kims Place’ which was a small and compact ‘resort’ which we shared with four other people. To call it a resort is somewhat spurious however as it was comprised solely of a few huts, three of four tables and a dozen of intermittently dispersed chairs. The appeal alluding ‘Kims Place’ was the proprietor himself, who, in his colossal and overbearing frame, resembled Bolton Wanderers ‘Jaidi’.
In Kuata we did not do much. Contrasting to what would be perceived as the quintessential Fijian Experience, shortly after we arrived on the island, a morbid, surly grey cloud floated over us and unleashed a fearsomely ferocious storm. The rain did not recede all night.
That was inconvenient.
The fact that the rain leaked into our abode and on to our bed was a travesty however, and, complete with the sporadic roars of thunder that sounded as if God was ready to flood the world again AND the mosquitoes that were perpetually biting at our rancid feet, it was nothing short of a nightmare.
There was a consolation however: On our final night/day in Fiji we resided at the ‘Bounty Island Resort’ which was where ‘Celebrity Love Island’ was filmed (yippee!).
Do not allow this to deceive you though – the island was quaint and beautiful. Moreover the clouds had propitiously dispersed and the sun emerged, thus augmenting the pervasive beauty.

Now, we have been travelling for seven months. Leaving Fiji at 22:00 on the 20th April, we arrived in LA for our connecting flight to Vancouver at 13:00…on the same day. Consequently we are severely jet-lagged.

We have finally reached that distant yet palpable milestone of Canada and it is quite perturbing pondering how this is the beginning of the end…