Supersize me!

Hamburgers, buffalo wings, potato skins, pizza. Do you want fries with that? Brad is managing.  Lea " I just want salad, fresh fruit and chocolate"

The Plastination of Old Blue Eyes

With the New York Pass in our hands, we wondered upon a totally bizarre exhibition in Times Square called Body Pulse.  Here a process called plastination is used to strip the human body of skin and display the anatomical structure of the body in poses that depict the movement of the body.  All displays are real cadavers,  people who have donated their body to science.  We're not a 100% sure that they had this in mind when they signed the form. 

Elvis has left the building

She makes eye contact with us as we enter the casino.  She stands swaying, pulsating to the music.   Raised above the gambling tables, dressed to entice the punters, she seems trance like trapped in her surroundings and her only escape is the ocassional look at her watch to ascertain how long she has left of her shift.  As we look around we discover 20 similar clones, dressed the same all deviod of expression.  Neon lights blaze, all sense of time is sucked dry and even pokies greet you as you step off the plane to collect your luggage.

The streets are a wash with every type of decadence imaginable.   A flash of a camera, a pose with an impersonator,  handbills advertising two girls for $100 and gentlemen clubs where the first lap dance is free are thrown at you (even an 80 year old granny in a Zimmer frame was handing them out).  Two for one drinks, a drunk vomits next to us and the homeless advertise for sugar mummies or money for alcohol.   Neon lights make you blink, (thank god, we're not epileptic) and a constant wall of sound invades our senses.  Enticement to gamble spew forth promoted by show girls with teeth so white that sunglasses are needed and on every corner Elvis awaits you.

No trip to Vegas would be complete with out booking a show to see Elvis IX.  Trent Carlin is suppose to be the best in the business.  He has been doing his Elvis show for 23 years and it certainly looked like it.  We were the youngest in a packed house of about 40 people.  Zimmer frames rocked to the hits of Elvis and incontinent pads became even wetter when Elvis IX slipped into his velcro black leather suit.  Elvis IX noticing Lea as the only female with all her teeth and without grey or blue rinsed hair got special attention and even a special kiss to remember the evening by.

Viva Las Vegas.

Observation 2 by Lea as we walked the streets of Las Vegas:  Your dress must always cover your vagina.

Old Blue Eyes (2)

New York City welcomed us by providing us with the opportunity to progress from one screening check point after screening check point.  Bags were checked, bodies probed, xrayed and this was just to go to the toilet.  So long we waited to be processed by immigration that our luggage had been removed from the conveyor belt and some homeless man had taken up residence there.  We arrived at JFK at 3pm and we finally made it out of customs at 5pm, we then made our way to our designated pick up only to wait another hour.  What followed was a Grand Theft Auto style drive to downtown NYC.  (Amazingly we tipped for the priveldge of blaring horns, expletives thrown at all and sundry and our luggage tossed like a cabre at a highlands game.)  We then entered into our accomodation, checked in and made our way to our room on the seventh floor.  Unfortunately no one told us at check in that you had to press the lift button number for the floor and wait to be told which elevator to enter.  So as you can imagine, we pushed the button, jumped in and watched as our floor zoomed by.  It was a scene for Ground Hog Day, for 15 minutes we zoomed up and down, not once stopping at our floor. Crumpled and hugging our luggage in the corner we waited. We hoped. We pictured the news headlines,  two Australians found in New York elevator dehydrated and emancipated, mumbling inconherently over and over again the number 7.  Our saviour came in the form of 2 young Australian girls who had suffered a similar fate and who shared the secret of the elevator with us.

We soon discoverd on our travels that security screening is the norm for a country who lives under the constant threat of terriorism.  Every momument, museum and church we encountered, jackets, shoes and bags went through the scanner.  At times the assistant manning the screen device was texting, talking to friend or reading a book.  We felt so safe in the knowledge that our safety from terrorist attack was in their hands.

Old Blue Eye's New York.

Contradiction are everywhere when you walk the streets of New York City.  The wealth of Manhattan,  to the homeless huddled in their filth; Lady Liberty welcoming all to her shores, whilst a sense of xenophobia is palatable; the neon lights of Time Square outshine the stars above, whilst darkness descends upon the streets and avenues that surround it and the bull of Wall Street roars its capitalist spittle whilst protestors demand a living wage of $15 an hour.

New York City has provided us with many mixed messages.  We have journeyed across the many boroughs via subways, water and by foot.  We have visited Brooklyn and walked across its iconic bridge; we have stood at ground zero in silence and reverence; we have explored the streets of Manhattan and watched the darkness give birth to the city lights from the 86th floor of the Empire State Building; we have walked the streets of Harlem and worshipped in a Gospel Church and listened to voices that soared with the angels. We have cruised the Husdon River and climbed the 358 steps to the Crown of Lady Liberty  and gazed across to the city skyline and finally, the magic of Broadway rocked us as we raised our devil horns to the tunes of Rock of Ages.

We have also experienced the oppressive and claustrophobic nature of crowds, the insanity of tipping someone for doing their job, the rudeness of people in simple conversation and the madness of sitting in New York City gridlock.

To some, New York City represents the place where dreams are made, to us New York City is a world devoid of passion, but saying that, maybe we are just small town folk stuck in one of the biggest cities in the world.

Observation 2: Brad to Lea - What has your highlight been of NYC? Lea's response. What highlight!

Russia

Behind the Iron Curtain,
Let it be certain,
Secrets revealed.
The beauty of the canals,
The buildings preened and pretty.

Vodka shot!

The history of the rich and poor,
Weak and powerful,
Sly, conniving,
Trusting, hopeful.

Vodka shot!

A Disneyland of Cathedrals,
Brightly coloured onion domes,
Mosaics,  gold and paint.

Vodka shot!

From Russia with Love (5)

A spasibo goes out to our stunning guide Katye and her assistant Julia for an amazing Russian tour. Also a tour is only as good as the people you travel with, so a huge spasibo to Sally and Leigh, Sarah, Jess, Marc and Jacqui for a memorable tour.

Vodka shot

Russian cuisine consists of good, hearty food. On tour we were lucky enough to sample some traditional faire. Borscht soup served with sour cream was a favorite. Beef stroganoff, meal filled pastry pies always followed by delicious crepes for dessert. Of course we must not forget the vodka shot! Ochen vkusno!

From Russia with Love (4)

A full moon illuminates the Red Square casting a translucent glow shimmering along the cobble stone path, and shadows danced across the walls of the Kermlin.  If you had a vivid memory, or like us about five vodka shots on the bus on our night tour, you could swear that the shadows were taking on shapes. Firstly, Ivan the Terrible blinding the two architects who designed and built St. Basil Church because when asked could they ever possibly build anything as beautiful again, they answered yes. Peter the Great, banishing his wife Sofia to a convent so he could marry Catherine, Lenin, celebrating the success of the October Revolution and finally Stalin, caressing his mustache as he watches his Red Army match through the square.

The imagination can be such a powerful thing, or was it the Vodka talking to us.

From Russia with Love (3)

We were fortunately able to taste some of the culture of this vast country.   Cossacks danced with legs akimbo; the lights of Moscow painted pictures before our eyes and stories of repression and purges were retold.  It is hard to imagine that over 50 million people were displaced, imprisoned or eradicated under the Stalin era.  Families would simply disappear as if they had never existed, they became ghost like. Such stories were told to us on our tour by people who had lived through the Stalin era.  We were fortunate to have at our lunch table one day a gentleman called Yullie who shared his thoughts about the old and new Russia.  He shared the story of the imprisonment of his father for five years as a result of an story he told to his work colleagues.   The story goes like this:

A man walks into a hospital and asks to see an ear and eye doctor.  The doctor replies that they only have nose and throat doctors, there are no ear and eye doctors here.  The doctor asks the man what seems to be the problem and why does he specifically need an ear and eye doctor.  The man replies, 'Well doctor, my ears are hearing one thing, but my eyes are seeing totally different things.' 

Be on your guard (4)

Do not try to impersonate a Cossack Dancer after Vodak Shots.

From Russia with Love (2)

There is nothing more interesting than sharing your overnight sleeper train with a naked Russian - what an introduction!   Vodka and overnight nudity are an interesting mix on a train journey. No, it was not Brad in a shapku ushanka. Welcome to Moscow.

Oh, it burns my precious, it burns!  The wind strips back our flesh and slowly grips us vice like; dragon breath is expelled and we layer our body ready for the assault as we step forward on to the streets of Moscow.  As we briskly walk to stimulate circulation the Sara Lee ad plays through our mind, 'layer upon layer after layer'.

The Metro is the easiest way to navigate down town Moscow; however, nothing and we do mean nothing is written in English.  The Metro is a working museum: Mosacics, chandeliers,  bronzed statutes and marble busts adorne every station and all depict the stuggle, the notion that nation comes before self-interest and the sacrifice the fore fathers made.  Six million people use the Metro each day and we reckon we met many of them on our Metro journeys.  A tin of sardines would have had more space than we did.  The rules of getting off and on the train are pretty simple, you push and shove and you hold your ground, nothing more and nothing less.

Our 5 stop journey took us to Moscow's Red Square.   It is interesting to note that Red in feudal Russian means beautiful and we can concur with this. A  cobbled  square brings you to the Church of St. Basil, the embalmed Grandfather Lenin lies waxed like in his mausoleum watching out over all that he created and the all imposing Kremlin with its red brick enbankment frames the entire square.  Golden domes, colourful onion, a bell that never rung sits adjacent to cannon that was never fired and Tsars were married, crowned and buried within the walls of the Kermlin.

The Red Square, home of emperors, tsars and revolutionaries is truly an amazing place.

Travel tip 3

When travelling in a country where limited or no English signage is present, (ie. Russia) it is a useful idea to carry your hotel business card with you whilst exploring. If using public transport take a photo of the name sign of nearest bus stop/train station to your accommodation.

Be on your guard 2

Be on your guard (1)

The following advice is taken from 'Welcome to St. Petersburg' pocket guide.

(1) Avoid attracting unwanted attention by not speaking loudly in your mother tongue.

Brad certainly has no problem with this one.  On one ocassion he asked for directions and the second time he ordered from a menu and on both times he was asked whether he spoke English because they could not understand him in his native tongue.  Brad's response was 'Obviously not very well.'

(2) Avoiding walking the streets if you have been drinking. 

This is one that Brad is having some difficulty avoiding

(3) If you are of African, Asian or Arab decent exercise caution, particularly at night.  Blue Papa Smurfs seem to be okay.

From Russia With Love (1)

The Golden Autumn carpets the streets of St. Petersburg; the canals reflect the image of the Church of the Saviour on the Spilt Blood and the domes of St Isaac and Nicholas Catherdral glisten in the early morning sun, casting a golden orb around the awakening city.  The city hums into life and one could imagine the impressionist of Monet,  Cezanne, Renior and van Gogh, that hang within the walls of the Hermitage, capturing the beauty of the city.

At each turn, spalshes of light capture the colour of the ornate facades of the buildings, wide streets frame the landscape and the canals provide a sense of tranquility.

One of the greatest pleasures of travelling is the ability to wondering amissly, and as we set out we discover an adventure awaiting for us. The drekness of the day with its biting chill and icicle rain was soon forgotten as we viewed autumn leaves covering parks providing images of artisans on hands and knees guiding gold leaf throughout, the Church of the Saviour on the Spilt Blood dominates its surrounds; its multi-coloured domes twist and spiral and its mosaics depict icons looking protectively down upon its followers.  Priests chants echo through the chapel and a lone flutist outside enhances the ambience with his music. Matryoshk dolls look out nonchalantly from shop windows, Shapku ushanka's adorn the heads of locals and tourist alike and the clink of shot glasses filled with vodka echo forth new friendships.

As the sun begins to set and the chill descends we decide to embark upon a cruise to see St. Petersburg at night and from water level.  Rugged up and impersonating Inuits we braved the -1C and watched the city slide pass.  A harvest moon hung over the Hermitage causing its reflection to dance across the river Neva and the fortress of Paul and Peter stands as a sentry guarding the city as the darkness creeps in.

As we snuggle together for warmth one must admit that St. Petersburg revivals Venice for its romance and sense of wonderment.

Travel tip 2

The most important meal of any travel day is breakfast. If your accommodation offers it, we recommend that you indulge. It can take hours of siteseeing before you get  a chance to refuel. Always good to carry a piece of fruit, museli bar and a bottle of water in your day bag. You can always save a hard boiled egg from breakie for ron.

LONDON

The city alive,
The buzz,
The splash of red.

Brown, murky water,
Riverboats,
Bridges zig zag,
The Thames.

Dome of St Paul's Cathedral,
Westminster Abbey's spires,
Magestic Big Ben,
Surreal.

Posh Nosh.

Have to admit that we weren't very excited at the thought of stodgy, English nosh but we were pleasantly surprised at the menu options that greeted us. Sizzling steak cooked to our perfection on a hot sizzle brick . The steak was accompanied by a delish mustard seed dressing, salad and fries. Last supper at the tower of hot chocolate with fresh scones, jam and clotted cream really warmed the cockles of the heart. Fish, chips and peas were fresh and light. (no grease to be seen) and of course a beer or three with a side of pork scratching at our local Ship and Shovell.

London Calling (4)

Its dome dominates the skyline; lightning the dull sky with its magnificence.  It stands as the first Cathedral constructed under the Anglican banner.  Sir Christopher Wren's masterpiece provided us with an opportunity to explore the knave and marvel at the Dome, so richly decorated; to explore the crypt and witness the resting place of Nelson and Chaucer.

637 steps is all it takes to journey upwards with the saints to the dome of Wren's Cathedral.  259 steps take you up the whispering gallery, suspended 30 meters above the Cathedral floor.  Rumour has it that you can whisper secrets that only the saints can hear all the way across the the other side of the room.  A further 378 steps takes you to the Golden Gallery; here you are jettison outside to the outer dome and sweeping views of London and biting winds await.

London is much more than monuments, galleries and musems.  A vibrant nightlife awaits.  Comedy clubs chuckle on every corner, the neon lights of  of the casinos beckon, the red carpet is draped across Leicester Square awaiting the rich and famous or the wannabees like us to dance across and the theatre scene jives to the beat of laughter.

Using our charm and a willingness to fork out $138 per ticket, we were able to obtain tickets to the hottest show in West End, Matilda.  Based upon the novel by Roald Dahl and with the music by Tim Minchin this musical had it all.  Great acting, dancing, singing and sets and it is 

one show that we would recommend to anyone.

Finally, what would a trip to London be  without a visit to Harold's food court.   Spectacular and vivid displays attacked the senses and cusine from across the world with and accompaning glitzy price tag stun the optic nerve.

London is certainly calling us.

London Calling (2)

Brown and uninviting, the river Thames cuts through the heart of London.  This major trade way is flanked by a metropolis buzzing with activity and a landscape that is the epicenter of a living history.  As we cruise down the Thames,  our sense are rubbed raw and our index finger swells from RSI from picture taking.  The Tower of London looms before us and traitors gate comes into view, the Tower Bridge rises above, Sir Christopher Wren's masterpiece, St. Paul's Cathedral pierces the skyline,  along with the Monument and finally, standing phallic like above the House of Parliament providing an orgasmic dong below is Big Ben.

London Calling (3) I'll have half.

Having viewed nearly every monument, museums and gallery we decided an afternoon mingling with the locals at the 'Ship and Shovel' was in order.  Pints were consumed, some dodgy pork scratchings with pig hairs still attached were delivered to our table and a man resembling a walking corpse shat himself at the bar, he seemed to have  a TIA (a minor stroke); however, this was not going to stop him drinking his pint, even when the paramedics arrived.  He rebuffed the paramedics, telling them it was nothing and all the time he dribbled and faecal liquid fell first on one chair and then another.  The notion of a Responsible Service of Alcohol was scoffed by all as unbritish.

As we made our way from the Ship and Shovel we donned our many layers and said our goodnight to all and sundry.

Lea's observation of a lady's dress sense at the bar: 'if it does not look good before breakfast, don't wear it, love.'

Playing monopoly!

Travel tip 1

Always learn a few words in the native language of the country you are visiting. For example in Africa, Jambo means hello and asante is thank you. In London, hallo Gov ( hiya), awright?, cheers will get you places.

To London Town!

Out of Africa!

Out of Africa.
The big, brown, dusty plains,
Dry, hot winds a blowing.
Smiling faces with big brown eyes,
Jambo, Mambo, poa.
Happy people!

An exotic menagerie of beasts,
Zebra, Giraffe and elephant or two.
The roar of the lion, hyena cackle
And the rumble of a stampede.
Yes, a big , brown land.

The mountain,
Dense, green rainforest,
Open moors,
Rain, snow, cold
And the wintery sun.
Clear crisp nights,
Stars shining bright.
Trudging slowly; pole pole.
To the roof top!

London Calling

There is excitment all around; buskers trumpet for our attention, vendors hawk their wares; Opera bellows forth from the pit of Convent Garden; Nelson stands guard over a Lion and a Blue Chicken at Trafalgar Square (where are all the pigeons?); iconic red telephone boxes stand trapped in a time warp and the sounds of Hiya and innit puntuate the airways.

History seeps out of every cobblestone we tread upon and our path takes us to where the ravens beckon us to the Tower, Yeoman tell us of beheadings, torture and undying love; the Crown Jewels evoke us into conversation about their ostentatious and gaudy nature ,  whilst Henry the VIII's armour designed to protect his two most important organs, his head and his dick cause us to begin a giggle loop.

Kings and Queens reign and stories of skullduggery are whispered through our headsets as we tour the majesty of Westminster Abbey.  Peasant, Noble, Royalty and even Bogans all have the commonality of death; however, even in death wealth and privilege jettison forward. Westminster Abbey, a sanctuary for many, is the burial ground for many Kings and Queens of England  . On entry a sense of great revenerence descends upon us and we feel suffocated by the immense history that surrounds us.

The African bite.

Food is a big part of travel. The taste sensations that are so diverse to our own Aussie cuisine help to make the travel experience a great one. Well, we certainly did not go hungry on our African adventure. The main faire consisted of hearty stews; very tasty and the use of ginger in most dishes went down a treat. Lunch was usually smoked chicken which was also a fav. We were advised not to eat off the street vendors , which is something we usually like to do. We have had many scrumpious surprises by eating what the locals devour. But we must not forget  Cambodian hospital adventure nor the pot of chicken feet and heads in China. Pays to be a little cautious sometimes.

The Serengeti Thirst

'When friends come together the fun always begins with the first cool sip of Serengeti Premimum Larger. '  Well three friends decided to pop in as we sat at our tent awaiting the sunset.  Three Giraffes wondered in to the campsite, with not a care in the world and together, Lea and I offered salutations to these amazing creatures.

Up Close and Personal

We can drive for hours, through dust; across tracks that jar every bone in our body, and a landscape that is brown and uncompromising for no return and then suddenly within a ten minute period we will witness a herd of elephants washing in a river.  This same herd will suddenly cross within touching distance of our location and continue their silent migration across the Serengeti savannah.  A pride of lions, 12 in total lie sleeping in the shadows of sausage trees; they stir, stretch, look at us and then collapse once again, spooning each other for comfort.  Zebras span the horizon,  searching for a safe watering hole and a lone giraffe strolls aimlessly through the stripped horde.   Hyenas fight for the remains of a Lion's kill, whilst rabbit eared foxes and vultures await the small pickings that remain.  A pod of Hippos wallow in their foul stench and pound their 1600kg frames with home made mud packs.  Finally, 2 lone Cheetahs stand guard on a fallen tree scanning for pray and a Leopard lays prostate in an acacia tree shading itself from the morning haze.

Watching the sunset over the African landscape has been stunning.  The colours burn deeply into the indigo sky and the mountains are silhouetted in the deepening ochre skyline.  The stars pulsate and illuminate the world above and as we sit on deck chairs, a Serengetti Larger in hand we watch the wonder unfold.  Shooting stars criss-cross the horizon,  the Serengetti echoes with the sound of wildlife and we share stories with fellow travellers across the flames of the camp fire.

What a wonderful life!

Buying a Vowel (2)

Our childhood memories were dashed by Joseph our guide when we were reminiscing about a cartoon show we use to watch called Kimba the White Lion who lived in the deepest darkest Africa.  Kimba use to have amazing adventures stopping poachers.   Well it turns out that Kimba in Swahili means a huge lump of shit -so Kimba was the Shit White LIon; come to think of it, it really does sum up the show.

Wanderlust

The Big Four.

You can get it climbing a mountain, you can get it on a safari, you can get it chasing Giraffes,  you can get it bouncing for hours on end in a truck, you can get it watching the sunset on the Serengetti a matter of fact we've got them now.  A big cold thirst needs the big four beers.

Star of Wonder

She stands at 5895m; a monster of the African continent,  blown from the bowels of the earth she watches our awaiting ascent.  As we prepare ,a claustrophobic mist wraps it's fingers across the mountain, reducing visibility and increasing the tension within our dorm.  We layered our clothing to combat the -25C on the summit,  much resembling the michelin man. A lone star is visible as the mist clears and our 'star of wonder' became our guide.

Words alone can not do justice to the ascent to the summit.   Only those who have experienced the ascent actually know of the torment, the self doubt,  the pain, the delirium, the willpower, the belief, the euphoria,  the celebration and the emotional rollercoaster that the mountain throws at you.

And so at midnight,  with our star of wonder burning brightly in the night sky, we made our first tentative steps up the mountain. Zigzagging, pole, pole upwards. The cold bites deeply, dragon breath escapes from our lungs and the altitude collapses upon us.  Each step sends shock waves rocketing through our body, our lungs try to suck in the frozen air and our heart responds by jumping into tachycardia.  As nausea attempts to take control, we suck down hard on our water tubes to discover that they have frozen by the artic temperature and a realisation hits home that for the majority of the ascent no water is available to nourish us.

After about two hours a decision was made by our head guide, Joseph to separate us as he believed it is our best chance of reaching Gilman's Point and then the summit.  The reason for the separation was that the altitude was hitting Lea hard.  Shortness of breath,  nausea and disorientation were taking their toll.  So for three hours we were separated; a silhouette of a Giraffe like Lea could be seen traversing the mountain and an exchange of torch beams between the guides signalled how we were progressing.  These torch beams disappeared and for a further 30 minutes Brad progressed with the assitant guide reaching Gilman's Peak, elated, tired but concerned for Lea's wellbeing.  For 5 mintues Brad waited at Gilaman's hoping that he would see Lea reach the point of rendezvous;however, with the temperature hitting -25C the guide ordered Brad forward to the summit.  As Brad began the reluctant march to the summit he heard a noise  coming from the last corner to Gilman's Peak and on turning he saw Lea sobbing and hugging every one in the vincinty of GIlman's. He quickly made his way back to Gilman's, took his delusional wife in his arms and held her tightly and celebrated with her.

Somehow, with the support of Joseph her guide and with sheer guts and determination Lea made it to Gilman's.  There was nothing that was going to stop Lea from reaching the summit and as the sun rose over the African landscape we joined hands and kissed on the roof top of Africa and we walked together to the summit and the completion of our journey.

The decent saw Brad thinking he was an acrobat in a circus as he somersaulted down the mountain no more than three times, arms and legs flying every where and hiking sticks becoming javelins as he fell.  Bruised and battered from our 9 hour journey we slumped into our sleeping  bags to be awoken 1 hour later for a 4 hour hike back to Hombaro Huts.

The final day saw a 20klm hike out and us collapsing on to the bus for our journey back to our home based ready to celebrate with a cold Kilimanjaro Premium Larger.

Something for all seasons

Day 2 started off with a lovely steady hike upwards. Beautiful scenery invaded the senses as we journeyed through sub tropic landscapes.  Friendly banter with decending victors puntuated the air along with trumpeting Jambas courtesy of Brad (see previous post).  The sun etched itself across the track and pole, pole we progressed.  Our mood was buoyant but as the temperature plummeted to -5C things quickly changed. Within a matter of minutes the heavens opened up: First the rain lashed us like a cat of nine tales, then the hail morphed into instruments of pain and finally as to mock us a torrent of water swept down the track forming a swiftly flowing creek.  For three hours we were battered and we didn't even know that we had fingers as our hands felt like defrosting lumps of meat and our faces shone like beacons.

Wet and tired we finally made our way to camp Horombo 3720m above sea level and tried to devised a plan to somehow dry our clothing.  The only drawback to the plan is that at -5C nothing dries and the realisation hits that you will be walking for four hour the next day in the same  wet clothes.

We awoke the next day to clear skies and a happier frame of mind and the weather looked promising for our 8.8klms walk up to Zebra rocks which stand at  4100m.  The walk was invigorating and it renewed our faith that we could conquer Kili.  One advantage of walking in altitude is that the body warms up pretty quickly and the damp clothes soon dried off with our body heat.   The walk was spectacular and the Rock's resemblance to the hide of a Zebra is uncanny.

The porters seemed to know who is boss in the Greene household. They conferred with " Mumma" about every detail ;when would you like dinner, would you like a cup of tea now ect. They ignored Brad. One porter even kept asking for photos to be taken on his phone of Mumma and him.

Life on the mountain is really back to basics. The toilets are either squat or if you are in luck; smelly old western type. There is no paper provided, so tissues and serviette became gold. No running water meant everyone was on the nose. Every morn and night the waiter would bring a bowl of luke warm water for a top and tail wash. When we were sharing a hut or it was just too damn cold , only our hands and face had a splash. You can actually hire a porter to carry a private porta loo up the mountain for you. If you need your own private loo, you should not be climbing Kilimanjaro!

Buying a Vowel (1)

Be careful how you use your vowels in Tanzania as an A or an O can make all of the difference.  We all know how great Brad is with names and pronunciations don't we!  Well as we sojourned towards the mountain and greeted guides and porters coming from the mountain Lea would offer up the greetings of Jambo and would be greeted with huge smiles, Brad would reply with Jamba and would get in return Zulu warrior death stares.  As we found out Jambo means hello and Jamba means smelly fart. Apt!

On the road to Kili

At 2720m we sit at Mandara Hut, popcorn in hand, a steaming brew giving our bones warmth and his and hers sponge baths ticked of the to do list.  There is a great sense of comradeship of those who walk to the roof top of Africa.  Virgin walkers, like ourselves are welcomed into an exclusive club where secret nods of acknowledgement, salutation and even yoga like mantras are exchanged by those that we pass.

Two evacuations were witnessed on our walk today, both succumbing to altitude sickness.  One lay rigid, stuffed into a sleeping bag, surrounded by black garbage bags, duck tapped together.  The other, thrown on a wooden flatbed strapped to a device  looking like an extended tricycle.  We looked at each other and a realisation hit home that we weren't out on a picnic stroll, but a walk where people succumb to altitude sickness and where some even give their life to the mountain.

The hike on day one, itself was not demanding;however, it was the altitude that drained you.  The walk traversed through rainforest flora,which reminded us both of Cradle Mountain  in Tasmania and the Blue Arrow of home.  A short aclimatisation walk to Maundi Crater provided us an opportunity to wonder into a mystical forest, where Proteas bloomed, big bearded old men trees swayed in the wind and Panda monkeys swung from the canopy.   The only thing missing was Bilbo and his crew.