Day 87-92: Carribean Coast

Having arrived late at night in Puerto Viejo without any pre-planned accommodation (which is highly unusual for us) we had popped into the first guest house that offered a decent bed and free wifi for $20 or less. This was Coconut Grove, a guesthouse run by a German lady called Heidi. The bed was lumpy and the fan did little to cool the room. It was as humid conditions as a poor Irish man has ever experienced and we didn't have a good night's sleep at all. We were wrecked tired and most of our clothes were water-logged and dirty from the rain forest adventures. It also rained all day. This was not what we had envisaged as the idyllic Caribbean retreat we had in mind. We stayed put for most of the day, venturing out only for food and sustenance in the form of pineapple juice, coconut milk and rum.

After our second day of being stuck in-doors due to the weather and waiting for our laundry we decided that a relocation to more salubrious surroundings were in order. It took a while to find something, and budget considerations had to be put aside but eventually we found ourselves swinging in hammocks, across the road from Playa Cocles, just outside of town. If we were going to be hemmed in by rain at least we'd have some nice accommodation to hang out in. The in-house restaurant, an Italian place, was decent and the music was good, reggae appropriately.

Day 3 in the not-so-sunny Caribbean and it was still raining. Can you believe it? Luckily, we had our ongoing daily battles with British Airways to occupy us. More than a month since our request to re-route our round the world itinerary and BA had still not completed the task. Every day in Lisbon and many of our days in the Caribbean were spent on the phone talking to people in the

London call centre trying to determine when they would issue our tickets and tell us how much we had to pay in fees and taxes. Everyday they gave us the run around and told us that surely it was imminent. By this stage we had one poor guy called Michael on the hook and every day we rang through to the call centre and asked for him by name. I think every agent working there knew our sorry story by the end. Every call left us wound up tighter than a coiled spring and required serious amounts of cocktails and lounging around to overcome the stress. Unfortunately, the Caribbean was not co-operating with our lounging around ambitions which meant we were mostly just drinking to the sound of rain.

Next day we were getting serious cabin fever and as soon as we had done with giving out to BA and we saw a break in the clouds we hired some bikes. The bikes were seriously laid back (mon!), single speed, basket on the front, where braking is accomplished by pedalling backwards.

We got the last two bikes in town it seems and I would guess no one else was desperate enough to take them as they were falling apart.

We cycled down South to the next village called Playa Manzanillo which is at the end of the road in this part of Costa Rica. You can't get any further South. When we originally read our trusty LP we got the impression that this would be a nice place to stay and but for missing the bus and jumping on the next nearest thing a few days earlier we would have ended up here instead of Puerto Viejo. Thank you God of Missed Bus Connections! This place is "rustic" and "quaint" and there isn't a building with a right-angle anywhere. I guess the philosophy of building design here is that if a hurricane is going to demolish your building every year it is better to keep it simple and the tin sheeting and wooden fragments can just be gathered up and nailed back together again in the aftermath.

We ate lunch at the only place in town, which was over-run with tourists Costa Rican and otherwise. It was very busy and it took most of our allotted day trip time just to get our lunch. I ordered the Ron-don, a fish soup with whole fish head and other bits floating in it. Our guide from Coast-to-Coast, Juan-Carlos, had recommended it. I ended up eating most of Jess's casado lunch as I didn't have the stomach for it.

We had a stroll around on the beach, rumoured to be the best in the area but the tide was high and it was overcast and there wasn't much to admire. On the cycle back we stopped to watch the monkeys in the trees. That night we embarked on a night hike into town to visit a restaurant we had being trying to visit all week called El Natural. It turned out to be all it promised delivering a nice Asian/Caribbean fusion. It was worth the trek through the rain to get there and back.

Day 5 and things with BA have gone from bad (no-one has looked at your booking for a month) to worse (we've asked the South African office to explain what they have done when booking your original ticket). There is a lot vagueness from Michael and he is very evasive not wanting to blame anyone for any possible problem that they can't tell us about. But we know different. If the South African office is involved there can only be incompetence and further delay. As it is, after a week of unanswered emails and voice messages left with the SA office (population 2 people) even Michael is getting exasperated. Of course this is English, stiff-upper lip, calm face to the customer exasperation and we are beginning to feel that Michael was assigned to our case for his adept skills at disarming explosive customers.

We can't wait any longer. We have to re-arrange our Hawaii plans and we need to do it now. As it is, we just about get a place on the premier reason for hikers visiting Kauai - the Na Pali coast trail (last two places left for permits were only available for our second to last day on the island). After another day surrender to the BA debacle we received a little treat, a little furry treat in the form of two sloths. They had found their way to the roadside and were climbing a tree to get safely away from predators such as cars and tourists. One was halfway up the tree but the other was still on the ground crawling slowing just as they are famed to do. It was great to see one so close up and we had plenty of time to gawk but no camera with us.

Day 6 and we'd had more rain than an Irish summer. After briefly considering a sojourn into Panama we chose La Fortuna and its mighty volcano as our next destination. It belched black smoke on our arrival into town. Our shuttle bus driver dropped us at a "tourist information center" for booking of trips before he would drop us to our hotel. We were having none of it. This was just an indication of the way this town treats visitors. We headed for our hotel/casino/pizzeria Luigi's where we were greeted by the in-house tour operator who wanted to talk to us about booking some trips...

Day 86: Class III, IV rapids

It was the last day of our trip with Coast to coast but certainly by no means boring. Today we got to experience the Class IV rapids of Pacuare river. After brekkie, we packed and bid farewell to one of our favourite spots in Costa Rica and braved the gushing river. The water levels were perfect after yesterday night's downpour and this morning's sunshine so we were in luck. We tackled each rapid under Juan Carlos instructions till our arms were numbed and chit chatted more Costa Rica when the rapids were calmer. In between rapids, we learned that the Ticos nearly lost the Pacuare river to a dam project put forth by the government. It was fiercely rejected by the locals and affected parties so the project has been put on hold. It would have been a shame to lose such a wondrous sight.

We rafted through the Class IV rapids and thankfully none of us were thrown off board. As we approached a 7m waterfall, Juan Carlos told us to ditch the raft and drift down the river. With the assistant guide making sure the raft was safe, Juan Carlos jumped out of the raft and swam towards the rocky cliff. We followed him and climbed up the cliff and watched as he propelled himself off the cliff and plunged straight back into the river. The best way to enjoy these experience was not to over think it and just jump. So we did. Woo-hoo! What an experience! We turned back and look at the waterfall which we just "conquered" and swore to ourselves that it felt a lot higher than it looked. The rapids were now mild and calm, so we drifted down and enjoyed the peace one last time before we arrived at the take-out point in time for lunch.

It was our last lunch with Juan Carlos and we were sad to say our goodbyes to the crew. It had been a fantastic journey so far and we thanked him profusely for his handiwork. Juan Carlos made the last taco lunch for us while we cleaned up in the showers. After a satisfying lunch, we were whisked off to Saquirres bus station for our bus to Puerto Viejo. We arrived just before dinner time after 2 bumpy bus rides with the locals. Puerto Viejo looked like an agreeable town with a good night life. We checked ourselves into a cheap hostel and nursed our sore muscles with a casado dinner and extra strong pina coladas.

Day 85: Jungle Trekking with Bruno

One of the best things when we camp in the wilderness is that we get a good night's rest. We woke up to sound of gushing white water outside our tent and to a tasty brekkie that Juan Carlos had whipped up for us. Today was a "rest" day to explore the nearby villages and mountain ranges on foot. It was humid and the clouds looked heavy so a possibility of a downfall is not low. We decided to head out anyway to stretch our weary muscles. The trek started off from the back of the campsite, through muddy trail which led us to a village of less than 1000 people. The village was small but clearly well run, every house had electricity and recycling facilities that would put most developed countries to shame. Villagers were friendly and waved at us as we

strolled past their homes. We met up with another local and his 4 legged companion which we nicknamed "Bruno". And there were 5.

The humidity was really getting to both of us and we decided halfway to can the mountain range hike and decided on some rock hopping along a river. The day would then end with us plunging in some waterfalls and swimming holes. To get to the river, we had to hike down a valley through some extremely muddy trails with deep hoof imprints made by cattle. It was tough going to find a small spot that you won't loose your feet in but we just managed. Bruno was a real trooper and knew the trail inside out, he would wander off into the trees and reappear where you least expect him to. By now, we were thoroughly soaked in sweat and were desperate for some shade. As we ventured further into the valley, the trail narrowed and we managed to seek partial relief from some trees. It was just about then we heard a frantic barking amongst some trees. It was Bruno and the barking was getting agitated by the second, we decided that he could be in some kind of trouble and the owner pushed through the thick vegetation in the direction of the barking. We held our breaths and hoped our fellow hiker was safe. The owner came back with a sickly armadillo in his hand and Bruno jumping up and down excitedly, almost barking "Look at what I have found!". The armadillo looked rather ill and had little mass left. It was barely able to move when the owner set him down on the floor. We reckoned it might have been a virus and decided to leave him with some peace and quiet. Bruno wasn't so happy to let his catch go without a reward but his masculinity was compromised when his owner whipped him off the floor and hiked on.

The next couple of hours we meandered through narrow trails, cutting through rainforest and keeping an eye for wildlife. We didn't spot any wild animals but we still had a great time. We hiked along the river banks and got to a waterfall with a deep enough swimming hole under it. It was a good spot to rejuvenate with a dip and we rest our weary feet in the cool water while Juan Carlos jumped off the waterfall and into the pool. It looked pretty safe so after 30 minutes of psyching ourselves up for it, we climbed up the waterfall and followed suit. It was the first time both of us had jumped off a waterfall and if you haven't done it before, you need to. It was an exhilarating experience as soon as we took that leap of faith from the rocks. We were all flushed and pumped with adrenalin after the jump and I rested with a well earned cookie while Robin practised his jumping from neighbouring boulders.

Good things always come to an end so we had to pack up and head on down the river and to check out other waterfalls before it gets dark. The clouds were looking increasingly ominous so we had to hurry. The trails after the first waterfall were overgrown and Bruno's owner was clearing the vegetation as he went. To us, we felt like real adventurers going off the beaten track. Most times, the route along the river was too overgrown or non existent, we had to take off our shoes and tread over running water. Not long after, we started to feel a light drizzle coming down and we knew that a big shower was imminent. A big shower it was. By the time we made our way back to the campsite for a late lunch, Bruno was the only hiker marginally dry as he was able to dodge under the vegetation. The rest of the crew was soaked to the bones. We had a quick lunch and retreated to our hammocks for some RnR after a shower. The accumulative effect of days of mountain biking and our hike got to us and we fell asleep to the sound of rain.

Day 84: Cycle to Pacuare River Put-In For Rafting

Juan Carlos forewarned us that today's cycle would be even tougher than the previous days so we psyched ourselves up for steeper climbs ahead. True to his words, the climbs were steeper and relentless. We cycled through valleys and whizzed downhill whenever we had a chance. It was clear that we both enjoyed uphill climbs. I reckon the best way to enjoy a downhill is to earn it. So we did.

By noon, we had one last bumpy downhill before we get to the put-in for the start of our white water rafting adventure. Juan Carlos gave us an option to take the support vehicle or fly down the rocky paths with him and needless to say, we chose the latter. The downhill was exhilarating as we dodged mud, loose rocks and flew over roots that seem to emerge from nowhere. The road was narrow and meandered down the hill and we could hear the rush of the river in the background. It was our favourite bit of the cycling adventure since we didn't get a chance to go off road as much as we would like to. We got to the end, injury free but with rather numb/sore arms and congratulated each other on a great mountain biking ride. We were all feeling peckish but there was a 6 km raft down the Pacuare River before we have lunch at the campsite.

After Juan Carlos carefully went through all the safety rules while we are out having fun, we geared up and got into our raft for the next 2 days. We had a big raft with Juan at the back steering and Robin and myself stationed in the front. There was another assistant guide who got in the river first in his one man kayak to catch us in case anyone gets tossed out of the raft. The rapids were Class III rapids this afternoon and was just a raft to our campsite so we got a chance to enjoy the view without worrying too much. While going down the river, we learned from Juan Carlos that a 100 hectare of the pristine land around us cost no more USD 40k and we pondered about the prospects of escaping to this beautiful part of the world for retirement. We were famished by the time we got to the campsite and helped in offloading the raft so Juan Carlos could cook us lunch.

The campsite had permanent tents and all with the river view and behind the tents, we found a 2 storey construction built out of wood that had a rustic kitchen, complete with a long table for dining. On the 2nd floor, there were 3 tempting hammocks with some chairs for chilling out. Juan Carlos took us around the site and proudly showed us the bathrooms "Best showers in town!" he said with a big smile on his face. Indeed it was. The open air showers had bamboos for pipes and each shower room had ample space and pebble stoned floors. Someone had made a huge effort to give the guests an authentic eco lodge experience. Despite the absence of hot water, we jumped at the chance to freshen up. Nothing beats an experience of washing your hair and looking up to admire the lush tree canopies and a peek of clear skies. As soon as lunch was ready, we attacked the fresh taco salads like a pack of hungry wolves and retired satisfied to the swinging hammocks with an ice cold beer while snoozing to the sounds of toucans' calls.

Night time came and Juan Carlos was lighting candles all around the premises. Turns out Juan Carlos was quite the chef and had prepared a feast of grilled chicken and salad for dinner. It was served with white wine under the flickering lights and we were very impressed with what he could whip up with no electricity. We chatted about our travels so far over glasses of wine and tasty morsels of food while Juan Carlos shared stories of some interesting characters he had met over the years as an adventure guide in Costa Rica. Robin and I listened as he shared his adventures with us and wondered how we would do as travel guides.

Day 83: Onward and Upward

It was meant to be a longer ride punctuated with steep climbs and we were ready for another day of exploration. After the usual water and bike checks, we were off on the road. After the long descent from yesterday afternoon, we could immediately feel the difference in temperature and the crops the locals grew changed progressively from coffee beans to tropical fruits. The landscape was undeniably green and almost seemed to shimmer under the bright morning sun. It was nice to be feeling the lungs working hard to keep up with the steep climbs. Robin caught up with Juan Carlos and flashing his usual boyish grin when he edged forward whereas I was happy to cycle to an imaginary beat in my head at a steady pace. Despite the heat, we conquered each one of them in good time and before we realised it, we had arrived at our lunch stop.

Lunch was simple but good, as it always is with casados. We devoured our food hungrily, hung out with the guide and driver watching local soccer and continued with our afternoon ride. The afternoon ride was similar to the morning and we passed through more vegetable and fruit plantations. The last haul was up a hill and into a guesthouse perched on a hill. We arrived and saw a group of Americans gearing up for an afternoon of white water rafting and learned that they were the National team representing the US. Well, if the rapids are good enough for the professionals, they are good for us. :)

The guesthouse was run by a Tico couple with the warmest smiles, welcoming us into their homes. The lady led us around the house, explaining to us that their home was ours for the night as well and to enjoy the RnR area when we have freshened up. The RnR area was a patio facing a pool with a lovely view of the mountains and valleys. In the patio, there was a pool table to the right and dining tables to the right. We felt privileged to be in their home and were already looking forward to dinner.

An hour or 2 later, we turned up for dinner and sampled some home cooked steak and Spanish wine while chatting about our day's cycle.

Day 82: Start of our Mountain Biking/Rafting Trip

We were all pumped and psyched for our CTC adventure especially after being lost in transition for some many weeks in Portugal. We desperately wanted to get back on track with our trip and wanted this mountain biking and white water rafting trip to be a success. The guide and driver arrived bright and early and we were on the Pan American highway not long after. The itinerary was to cycle uphill on a dormant volcano before flying downhill on off-road tracks for 13 km. After which we will get to cycle through some coffee plantations before climbing uphill up to Calcihus for the last climb of the day.

A couple of hours later, we were dropped off halfway up the hill and tested our mountain bikes. They were good bikes and we were ready to start. The uphill climb was a good warm-up for the downhill and we welcomed the cardio workout. The weather was comfortably warm when we started but took a turn as we headed downhill through squash plantations and villages. There was mist all around us and from afar it looked like we were cycling through clouds. It was pretty cool. the downhill race was quite a workout on the upper body and was quite the adrenalin rush each time we dodged trucks/motorbikes heading in the other direction, only visible when we were a couple of metres away. We weaved through some windy roads and stopped halfway up a hill for lunch. The restaurant was in a nice spot and was supported by stilts. We enjoyed our casados while the guide and driver chatted happily in Spanish with the 2 guys that tagged along. We guessed they were the owner’s friends.

After our simple but satisfying lunch, we pumped on ahead with the hills and admired the view. It was quite mountainous and the hills were either covered in trees or cleared away for coffee plantations. We weaved through a few small villages which consisted of no more than 5 households while chatting with Juan Carlos. We liked Juan Carlos pretty much straightaway, he was a pretty humble and down to earth kind of guy that just enjoyed the outdoors. Juan stopped us by the road for some wild guavas which were positively divine. Nothing like what we get in the supermarkets, they were small but sweet and quenched our thirst at the same time. While we were munching away on our wild catches, the household across the road opened its front gates and waved Juan over. Damn! we thought we were busted for stealing his fruits! Juan waved us over and explained that the owner wanted to give us some oranges from his front yard. We felt thankful and shy at the same time for thinking the worst. Ticos are renowned for their hospitality and this was the first time we had experienced it. We accepted the oranges graciously and continued our cycle.

The last leg of the cycle was rewarding but not easy. The hotel was perched high up on a steep hill and to get there, we had to work our legs. The road was muddy and rocky and we conquered it bit by bit. Just when we thought our lungs were about to burst, we arrived in the hotel. The view from our room was breathtaking and we collapsed in exhaustion for the afternoon.

A refreshing shower, couple of hours of vegetation and a few episodes of Big Bang Theory later, we emerged from our rooms, ready to devour a horse. Dinner was lightly grilled fish with divine Chilean wine...ahhh... we rewarded our hardwork with a relaxing meal and retired for the night preparing for another day of cycling.

Day 81: Walking Tour of San Jose

We had a day to kill before our hastily organised hiking/biking/rafting trip began so we thought we'd follow Lonely Planet's walking tour of San Jose. The city itself does not have a lot to recommend it and I guess most tourists skip it completely. The guide book author clearly struggled with selling the charms of the city and so resorted to sarcasm. Chief amongst the attractions were Central Market, "the most popular place to get robbed", and XXX Park, "the outdoor offices of the city's working girls". As it was, the market was quite interesting, a maze of tiny stalls selling all kinds of trinkets, some for tourists, some for locals and plenty of food.

The guide book's recommendation for food was a let-down though. Over-priced and cynical, it came with a waiter whose demeanour turned sour as soon as it became clear we were not interested in his 30 dollar steaks. We were only in the country 24 hours and we knew what a bad deal the food on offer here was. Not to worry, we ordered local food again and were not disappointed though we could have had it for half the price in a place that had not been endorsed by LP.

That night we experienced an earthquake. It measured 5.9 on the Richter Scale or so we heard.

Day 79 & 80: Onward to the Americas

We left Portugal with some trepidation. We still had not confirmed our new flights and itinerary with BA. We had no idea if they would throw a spanner in the works that would end up costing us more wasted time and money.

We just had to hope that things would get resolved and that the new flight from Costa Rica would link us back up with our new look itinerary. We couldn't wait any longer in Portugal, nice and all as it was. Our flight, booked at the last minute took us via Frankfurt. Connecting in Frankfurt, we had a minor heart attack as the check in agent asked for proof of an onward flight. We only had our old printed itinerary which did not include Costa Rica at all. This was no good. According to Costa Rica's official position you need an onward flight and no amount of pleading with the rule-following German was going to change that. Even though we knew that they would never ask for it in reality we had to think fast. We loaded up our computer and paid for wifi. Armed with a screen from BA's website showing our proposed itinerary we bluffed our way insisting all was booked and paid for. The agent relented and we were on our way.

When we arrived in Costa Rica we took the local bus into town, checked in to our hostel and went for breakfast of traditional fare - gallo pinto, which is beans and rice and stewed meat. It was very good and very cheap.

And then we were very tired and though we made a half-hearted attempt to walk to San Jose downtown, we kept that activity for another day and went to bed.

Day 78: Day trip to Cacilhas

The plan was to cycle to Sintra but the lazy bugs in us took over and we slept in and had a very late brekkie of omelet and Greek yogurt. We spent a few hours on the backlog of administration work and decided it was time to get out the hostel for some fresh air to clear our muggy heads.

The Lisboa map provided by our trusty hostel owner proved to good use. Amongst the top 10 things to do in Lisboa was to take a ferry across the river and explore the "other side". It was highly recommended to take a late lunch and enjoy the sunset. Bonus! we were sure that lunch after 4 qualifies as a "late lunch" so we jumped into half decent clothes and headed our for late day adventure.

After a rather pleasant ferry ride, we arrive at Cacilhas. It was a mild day with just enough sunshine to keep our spirits up but cool enough for a hoodie. We decided to stroll along the coast towards the statue. The town seems rather subdued and laid back, unlike the chaos across the river. There was plenty of graffiti on the walls but the streets were pee free and the locals were friendly. There were plenty of fishermen, amateurs and professionals, casting their bait for the evening and a fair few locals taking a walk either with their other halves or the furry best friends. It was a pleasant surprise to find such a peaceful getaway 30 minutes ferry ride away from the busy coast of Lisbon. We strolled along the coast admiring the view and chatting about our adventure so far and the plan ahead for the next few months before stumbling across a

quaint restaurant, nestled between a narrow staircase and a small sandy beach. Perfect place for that late lunch we thought to ourselves! A relaxing and satisfying lunch of freshly grilled fish, vinho verde and perfectly roasted espressos later, we continued our excursion towards Christo

Rei. There were no clear signs so we wandered around lazily through the maze of streets. It was a residential area so it gave a chance to see the "real" side of Lisboa. Though the hills were not as drastic as Lisboa, the walk certainly worked our quads. The sun was setting and we were eager to get a close up on Christo Rei. It would seem that the walk continuing along the coast was heading nowhere so we u-turned back to the elevator which would take us up to Almada Velha.

There wasn't anyone manning the lift but we pressed the "up" button in any case. 5 minutes later, an old guard emerged and collected a euro each. A short ride later, we had a panoramic view of Lisboa beneath our feet. The river shimmered and reflected the orange sun rays. What a romantic view.

A few snapshots later, we continued our walk in search of Christo Rei. As usual, my navigator led me through the narrow alleys and backstreets of a town, walking past parks, corner stores and neighbourhood schools. It was home time for the school kids so the narrow pedestrian kerbs were rather choked with cars of all shapes filled with anxious parents and grandparents. The roads were meandering around the massive Chisto Rei so we always had the statue in sight, the trick was to find the entrance! Just when we thought we were only to get a shot of the

monument's back, we saw the entrance and swiftly made our move (we were cutting it fine as the park closes at 6.30)

The statue was really quite impressive and we figured since we are missing out on the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janerio, Christo Rei would be just as good. Christo-Rei or rather Christ the King, is a Catholic monument of Jesus Chris overlooking the city of Lisbon and was inspired by Christ the Redeemer. The base of the monument stands at 75m tall and at the top is a statue of Christ the redeemer (28m tall). At the base of the statue is an observation deck that provides panoramic views. We didn't go up to the deck and were happy to admire the statue from below. An interesting fact was that the construction of Christo-Rei was approved on a Portuguese Episcopate conference as a plea to God to release Portugal from entering WW2. The original idea had however originated on a visit by the Cardinal Patriarch of Lisbon to Rio in 1934 soon after the inauguration of the statue of Christ the Redeemer. From the viewpoint, we had the best possible view of Lisbon. On our right was the beautiful red bridge Ponte 25 De joining the municipality of Alhama and Lisbon. It was quite a stark contrast between the 2 coasts.

Tejo river runs between them, Lisbon layered with old and new buildings, a sea of orange and white. Almada was green and the massive statue overseeing the island.

We lingered around a little and decided it was time to head back to the other side of the river. Retracing our steps, we talked about how much we have fallen in love with Lisbon. Sure it has its downside, the litter and the stench (especially after the rain) but it definitely has its charms.

Back to civilisation, we went in search of "the" Lisbon store that apparently sells unique T-shirts. The streets were surprisingly busy for a Monday night and we wondered if they people of Lisboa ever stopped partying?? Not long after, with the aid of Robin's navigational skills, we were in the store of t-shirts. After months of travelling with Robin, I had the art of appreciation without actually purchasing the product. So with much regret, I bid farewell to some of the softest cotton t-shirts I had ever touched.

Since neither one of us were particularly hungry, we decided to have a simple snack before hitting a cosy Jazz bar in Barrio Alto. It is so easy to fall in love with this city and its unpretentious crowd and great hideouts. Everywhere you look was another bar playing great chill-out music, we were always tempted to have another drink just to check out the quirky decor. Fortunately we were both sensible and slipped back to the hostel after we sipped the last mouthful of Portuguese red wine and said our obrigados to the friendly waitress.

Day 77: Punishment is not necessarily bitter but bittersweet

It was really a day to curl under the duvets and listen to Mogwai. So we did stay in bed (pity we didn't get to listen to Mogwai). We slept in on this dull and rainy day. Got up to a really late brunch and decided that it was a day to catch up on our blogging.

We were really starting to get into blogging. It was bittersweet to look back at our adventures and mishaps. Even moments like Brazil.

After some intense blogging, we rewarded ourselves with some hearty homemade stew. Wasn't the most eventful but it was a day of rest.

Day 76: One man's trash is another's treasure

It was Saturday and the perfect weather to visit the infamous Thieves Market (Fiera de Ladra) in the old Muslim quarter. We weren't expecting to buy any second hand shoes but were intrigued by its name. So we took a long hike out to Alfama. I almost felt guilty participating in the market as some stalls (I used that term loosely - a sheet with assorted used sunnies and bracelets was the usual set up) but the guilt was shamelessly washed away as soon as we saw the variety of goodies on display. From useless trinkets like a barbie doll to spare parts from an old watch to treasures like old china, second hand books and old stop watches. The market felt endless and every corner you turned was another old lady selling second hand handbags or ear-rings. After dragging Robin through the maze of stores for more than an hour, we finally realised that we had pretty much surveyed enough of this fun and funky extravaganza. Robin decided the hot weather called for a cold pint of Super Bock.

While enjoying the ice cold beer, we went through some of the photos for the past few days. We are really starting to enjoy Lisbon! After the cool treat, we strolled towards a funky record store and that's when Robin perked up! It was a treasure of good music, from Miles Davies to Animal Collective. Old and new music - most importantly GOOD music. It was refreshing to go into a record store without posters of Lady Gaga and Britney Spears. we flicked through some old vinyl records and posters, wishing we could take a piece of this heaven with us. Waving a little goodbye, we left the store.

While hiking back to the hostel (these Lisbon hills make it a real hike), we decided that we wanted more of the home cooked food that we had last night. So we went back and feasted on some simple stir-fry and old episodes of Seinfield. Simple pleasures in life.

Day 75: Cycling along the beach

We were itching to get on the bicycle again after a day of inactivity so we headed back to the bike store to rent the bicycles for the day. An excursion out to the beaches would be nice. The friendly staff members gave us some simple instructions and a ferry ride later, we were cycling towards Cais do Capirina. The air was fresh and sun was warm, we felt like 5 year old kids again.

The cycle was quite easy with well paved bicycle tracks and it was all straightforward enough. So we pedaled hard, eager to get some beach time. The afternoon went by quickly with us lying in the sun for a while and strolling along the beach. It was really windy and the water was not the most inviting. Doesn't matter though, we had a good therapeutic session of blue skies/seas and fresh air.

After returning to Lisbon, we pedaled hard, occasionally racing one another to the next lamp post or white van. On our way, we passed by an Irish pub and decided we both missed Magners cider so much that we had to have a pint. Ahh. The cool sweet taste of cider woke us up and we reminisced about some good times we had so far in Europe.

Day 72, 73, 74: Out and About in Lisbon

On our second day in the city we hired bikes and cycled out to Belem. This is a suburb, West of Lisbon, closer to the sea. The attractions here center on the heritage of Lisbon´s sea-faring days. A cycle path runs from the center of Lisbon right out to the historic monuments and we spent an enjoyable few hours cycling around the vicinity and taking photos. The weather was perfect. While I relish the challenges of cycling over rocks and roots and down steep off'-road, Jess is in her element when riding on footpaths shared with inattentive pedestrians. I´m not sure if these moving obstacle courses invigorate or infuriate her more but we both

had broad smiles on our faces when we returned the bikes at the end of a fun day.

On Day 3 we decided to use our feet to climb the many hills of Lisbon. The castle was our main destination. Starting at the lowest point of Lisbon we wound our way through narrow streets occasionally finding a sign that confirmed that we were headed in the right direction, and occasionally meeting other tourists who were lost and confirming that we were going the wrong direction. Eventually we found the place which was generally in the "up" direction. The castle is mostly just walls now but you can climb up and run around pretending that you are attacking (or defending) and that the other unwitting visitors are being impaled by your imagined arrows and boiling oil poured from the ramparts above. Great fun. There´s also nice views of the city from up here and a herd of stray cats being fed by a local custodian.
After a lunch nearby, we headed down by what seemed to be the main approach to the castle which would have been much easier to navigate had we known. The area known as Alfama is the oldest part of the city dating from when it was a Moorish settlement. Here the streets are even windier and narrower.

On day 4, we caught up on some admin work and moved hostel. The new hostel was just opened a few weeks and everything is new so we have enjoyed using their kitchen. As an added bonus we are the only guests which makes this the best value home stay ever. Having heard that movies were sub-titled instead of dubbed, we decided to go to the cinema. The tourist office suggested a shopping mall quite a way out on the metro and claimed it was the biggest mall in Europe. Since we wanted to do some shopping also we made this our destination. Our hostel host suggested somewhere different and closer to see movies and thankfully we asked because honestly the mall was the biggest disappointment in Europe. Maybe Europe doesn´t build big malls because this one was not that big at all. After ten minutes of walking around we decided to head back to the city and watched Wall Street. It was a poor movie with no compelling plot or believable characters but at least we got our cinema experience.

We walked back through the part of the city we had not yet covered on foot, stopping at a terrace bar overlooking the city for a couple of glasses of wine and some nice music. We had a nice home cooked meal to look forward to.

Day 71: Lisbon

Perhaps it was because we finally felt we were back on the road or because being glum in Madrid had lowered our expectations but when we reached Lisbon we instantly loved it. There is something different about this city compared to other European cities we have visited. Everywhere you look, you see young people, all with their own unique style. Everyone looks like they dress from vintage clothes shops. Every bar has its own niche and worships a different musical genre, be it jazz, blues, fado (traditional Portuguese), or something modern, electronic, atmospheric and chilled.

The streets are all narrow and it is easy to become disoriented. You can walk through side streets wondering why it is so quiet only to find that the party is happening one block down. The buildings are old and fallen into disrepair. Only when you come across a refurbished neighbourhood do you see the scope of untapped potential that Lisbon has in abundance.

The hostel is a perfect example. The street is ramshackle, close to the city center but with so many abandoned business premises, windows grey and dusty if not boarded up. The footpath is littered with waste from humans and dogs, building rubble and leaking water pipes. But then comes a refurbished building such as the one we are staying in tonight. The outside of the building is covered in patterned tiles, typical of Lisbon buildings but here there are no cracked or missing ones and the windows are housed behind wrought iron balconies. The hostel seems embarassed to advertise its location as there is no sign to indicate its existence on the 4th floor of this apartment block. Once inside, the owners has lavishly decorated the place to make it seem more like a home than a backpackers residence.

The people all speak English with ease and fluidity not experienced since our days in Eastern Europe. Perhaps this is because cinema and TV is sub-titled, not dubbed. "What´s it gonna be?" our waitress asks, in the restaurant that night. And the Portuguese language sounds nothing like Spanish despite some similarity in how it looks on paper. They also seem to have assimilated more culture from the overseas colonies they once held. It is very different to Spain.

It has its downsides too. First there is the afore-mentioned dirt and delapidation. After the rain, every side street smells of urine. There are quite a few homeless drunks loitering in the streets and squares and there seems to be a thriving business in dumpster diving. This is something we´ve seen all across Europe but here there is a lot of rubbish to live off. There doesn´t seem to be the same civic pride for the place you live. A lady threw an apple straight out her front door and into the street as we walked by. The Lisbon Tidy Towns comittee would have an uphill battle winning the residents´ hearts and minds.

Day 66-70: Stuck in Madrid

We awoke in our comfy bed. It wasn't a dream. We were back in Madrid. At least this time we had a very nice hostal, not hostel. Just as central and only marginally more expensive but the decor was plush. More like a hotel. To say we were down at heart is an understatement. A quick look at our options showed us that travelling back to Brazil or on to Argentina was prohibitively expensive. Besides, we had resolved while on the floor in Sao Paulo to cut short the itinerary. Instead of 3 months in South America we could do one month in the Caribbean. We had previously read that Costa Rica was a great adventure holiday destination and it had much of what South America offers but in a smaller area.

We adjourned to the book shop to do some research. First realisation was that Costa Rica is not in the Carribean in the traditional sense and it is not an island as he had imagined. Central America it is then. After a couple of days of research we had our plan - cancel all our South America flights, buy tickets to Costa Rica and then re-jig our RTW itinerary to restart from Costa Rica and on to Hawaii. Costa Rica, Hawaii, beaches of Thailand, cycling in Vietnam and Cambodia and finishing with a much anticipated snowboarding holiday in Japan - is our lot in life really that bad?

After some complicated conversations with the British Airways ticketing office we had our new itinerary planned. We awaited confirmation of the costs of these changes before booking anything else, including our tickets to Costa Rica. In retrospect this was a mistake. A month later we still had not got our confirmation from BA and when we did book our Costa Rica flights a few days later we had missed out on the cheap seats and paid a lot more for them then we could have.

Madrid visit two was much like visit one in terms of sight-seeing. When we weren't furiously researching our new Costa Rica adventure we were seeking out all the recommended eating and drinking spots on our tourist map. Eventually after 4 days in limbo, we decided to move on to Lisbon for a change of scene.

Day 64-65: Deportation from Brazil

We left Madrid with anticipation and trepidation. It was definitely time to leave as we were both starting to recognise the hookers outside our hostel. We were looking forward to start the next chapter of our travels in a new continent but after a few days of intensive research on Brazil, we felt a little wary of the general safety in Sao Paul - especially after our Barcelona incident.

The train ride to Madrid airport from the city centre was straightforward and a real bargain. Only 2 euros! We arrived in Madrid International Airport 3 hours before departure and everything happened pretty smoothly, from check in to departure. A great start we thought to ourselves.

On the airplane, we were both getting up to date on safety tips and what to do in each situation. We were all clued up and prepared on how to react if someone pretended to be a policeman, robbed us, held at gun point etc Apparently if you were held at gunpoint in a restaurant, the best way is not to move, put your hands up and only wiggle your body to retrieve your wallet from your pockets. The idea that we could possibly be held up at gunpoint was more of a worry for us.

What Rough Guide failed to give us any preparation was to get rejected at the customs. Turns out relying on some random website for visa advice was a bad idea. Singaporeans needed to apply for a visa before entering Brazil. It was one of those moments that I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as my face blew hot and cold. Is that possible that we have got this so wrong?!?! The customs officer showed us a pdf file detailing visa requirements by nationality and and asked Robin if he would like to stay in Brazil since he is an EU citizen and did not require one. Leave?! Is he mad? Thank goodness that I had a man that stood by me. The

next few hours were a nightmare. After the customs officer decided that he had enough of dealing with us, an Iberian Airway representative showed up and promptly told us that she was going to have to send me back to Madrid on the next available flight and if Robin wanted to be with me, he is going to have to buy an air ticket at his own expense. We felt dejected but realised this was the only way to reconnect back with our RTW itinerary.

Just when we were starting to feel that we got a grip on ourselves, the Iberian representative - let's call her Infuriating - sprung out of nowhere that there was a flight leaving that night and I will have to get on it. Since there was absolutely no time for Robin to purchase the flight, we will have to be separated. She quickly ushered us through security, speed walking through gates and security checks at record time, while we were pleaded with her to let us take the same flight to Madrid. Putting aside the emotional stress of separation, after months of travelling together, we had items of all sorts packed as one unit. How are we going to function if we are in different countries? We will not even have a way to communicate with one another. Where were we

going to meet if she was really going to shove me on onto a flight??? We were standing close to the departure gate when she replied curtly - making an effort to completely ignore me and address Robin - "She needs to leave Brazil tonight, Sir. Now" Robin continued to plead with her and I am not sure what clicked in her but after a few exchanges with some person over the walkie talkie, she advised us that we can take a later flight together tomorrow afternoon and in the meantime we will have to stay in a common area watched by a security guard.

I had no idea where that common area was and where exactly we were taken to but I knew that it would not be pleasant. After strolling through a maze of corridors and escalators, we arrive in a dilapidated room missing a glass door with some very sad and lost looking people, somewhere between Gates 12 and 13. The room was dimly lit with a few broken plastic chairs. There were 3 Pakistanis with no foot wear wandering around in the room. Outside the room, there were a few more plastic chairs with an old wooden table against the wall. There were 2 security guards sitting behind the table and both looked bored. One of the guards kind of minded her own business and was busying herself with a diary of some sort and the other was a perfect reason to believe God did not create man in his own image.

This second guard had his guts pushing so hard against the buttons of his shirt, it looked like a volcano on the brink of massive eruption. Greasy and shiny hair mounted his pudgy face while he snorted every time he attempted to speak. Let's call him The Slob. After the Slob had a few exchanges with Infuriating, she promptly informed us that Robin might get sent out of the airport and I will have to spend the next 18 hours alone in that hell hole. Why the hell didn't she tell us that knowing full well that we didn't want to be separated? Robin tried to assure me and asked Infuriating if there was a bed and she smugly said to us (or rather him) "No, that's it." She informed us that she was going to liaise with the customs officer and would let us know if Robin could spend the night in hell with me.

It wasn't a good feeling that my nationality caused so much trouble for us, especially Robin who could be enjoying a well shaken mojito by now if not for me. The guilt swelled as Robin, in his usual calm and assuring manner, handed me the laptop and novels he had, instructing me to keep my hoody on at all time. I could tell he was nervous about the company. Robin gave me a bear hug and we waited by the wooden table for Infuriating's news. Not long after, we received a phone call that Robin could stay for the night and someone from Iberia would come over before lunch to take him to the corporate desk for ticket payment.

We stood quiet for what seemed like a decade, just silently holding each other's hands. While pondering our next steps, we noticed the Slob fingering my passport and examining each page. They were clearly going through my passport and gossiping about us since we could hear "Singapore" peppered throughout their conversations. The Slob then proceeded to pocket my passport in his jacket (the correct procedure was to have it in the folder with the paperwork) I felt like snatching the passport and whacking his head with the chair, it was MY passport! It felt like a violation and the slime ball was taking some perverse sense of satisfaction from our demise.

We decided to ignore him and tried, without much success, to get some shut eye on the plastic chairs outside the restricted area (which is where we meant to sleep. Between the terrible music the Slob was playing on his cell phone and the Pakistanis running in and out of the restricted area to pick up collect calls from the payphone, we gave up sleeping. It wasn't until early in the morning, we retired into the restricted area. The kind Pakistani lent us his blankets and we spread the inflight blankets from various airlines against the wall, falling asleep in each other's arms.

Next morning, we awoke and freshened up with a cold face wash. The were 2 female guards on duty and they were much more pleasant. They bought us some ham and cheese sandwich, juice and coffee for breakfast. It has been more than 12 hours since we had some food and that perked us up somewhat. We played some computer games on our laptop while waiting for the Iberia representative to collect Robin.Robin was getting anxious now. With only 3 hours to take off and no ticket purchased he was worried that after waiting all morning he would run out of time to get the ticket. First he tried and failed to use a mix of mime, English and Portuguese to explain to the security guards to call the Iberian office. When that didn't work he tried wandering around the airport looking for someone who might help. He found an airport police office where they spoke English and they said they would make a call. Eventually a representative turned up, finally someone professional and somewhat sympathetic who treated us like paying customers and not criminals.

She took Robin through security and immigration and to the ticket office. The ticket lady had a look at her computer and said "This is going to be expensive." Argh! The lady from last night indicated the ticket would cost about 300 euro. Today they were saying ten times that price. A sickly feeling welled up inside Robin as the financial implications of this mistake weighed on him. Including rebooking tickets to South America, the cost would essentially double the budget for 3 months of travelling.

The ticketing lady was in extreme multi-tasking mode, dealing with walk in customers, customers on the phone and some sort of problem her colleague was having. At one stage she was doing fare searches for me, talking on the phone in one hand and a walkie talkie in the other and talking over the counter to another punter, all at the same time. Needless to say things were taking a while. Robin wondered if he had the credit card limit to make such a purchase.

The tension of waiting was getting to Robin. He went searching deep within his self for the Zen place where money means nothing and found peace. Eventually, the verdict was in - 800 euro. After self-hypnosis to accept a 3000 charge, 800 was a relief and he gladly handed over his credit card.

Now all that was left was to find our luggage. The customer rep took Robin on a tour of the airport, through secure areas the public never get to see. The left luggage rooms didn't turn up our stuff. She made a couple of calls and checked a couple of computer systems and eventually reassured Robin that our luggage was being loaded. Eventually, with boarding time approaching we hustled our way passed security and immigration.Meanwhile, all I could hope was that nothing else went wrong for Robin. 15 minutes before boarding, the guard escorted me to the departure gate and all this time I was looking over my shoulder to see if I could spot any

blond hair men from afar. Fortunately for us the flight was delayed and Robin made it just 10 minutes after boarding time with the Iberian representative. We were escorted onto the plane before everyone else and the security guard handed my passport to the air stewardess. We felt strange at that time that my passport was still not in my own pocket.

An uneasy 10 hour flight later, we landed back in Madrid International Airport. By this time, we were both looking dishevelled and exhausted. It had been more than 72 hours since we had a proper bed or meal. To add insult to injury, the Iberian steward called security and didn't allow us to step off the ramp. We were made to stand at the side while he checked my passport over the phone - not sure for what exactly. He gave me back my passport after some questioning. Feeling rather insulted that we were treated like prisoners, we walked on towards the arrival hall. However, before we walked more than 10 metres, we were stopped by another 2 security

guards, asking the same questions again. WTF??? They obviously had nothing to say, so we moved on to customs and collected our bags from the belt.

We headed straight for a free wi-fi spot. Guess where? The MacDonald's on Gran Via next to Hooker Street. Morning was breaking and the office-goers were just starting to fill the metro so the ride was not too bad. We plonked ourselves down in a corner, found a hostel not too far away, but enough to escape the hookers. We spent the rest of the day nursing our bruised egos after a thorough shower. In my case, 2 showers. Who ever said travelling was easy?

Day 62, 63: Madrid

Today was taken up with administration work. First, our growing laundary pile needed tackling. Then there was some intensive research required to come up with a plan for Brazil. By the evening we were getting cabin fever and looked to hit the town.

We picked up a very handy tourist map that recommended places to eat and drink. We tried many of their recommendations during our time in Madrid and they all turned out to be good spots. Tonight, there was a great cocktail bar. We sat in the back where it was dimly lit, cushions on the floor and low tables. Then we had tapas with a twist. These were tapas with flavours and ingredients not traditionally found in Spanish food. Many had an Asian flavour and though the menu was all Spanish we muddled through and found some good stuff.

After coming and going from our hostel many times over the days we stayed here we came to the realisation that there was a very obvious prostitution scene on the square just outside our hostel. We were starting to recognise the faces of the girls. Madrid is a city to come to for it's night life. We didn't take any photos while we were here and there were no major historical monuments to visit. There are some good are museums but by this stage we were all museumed out. We couldn't wait to leave Madrid to be honest.

Day 61: Getting to Madrid

We were finally approaching the end of our European overland trip. Madrid was the end of the line before flying to South America. We bid farewell to Paco and we made our way North by bus. This entailed a lot of hanging around - on the side of the street in Alhama, in the bus station and surroundings in Granada and on the long 6 hour bus journey to Madrid itself.

When we arrived it was getting late. Our hostel was smack bang in the middle of Madrid city. We came out of the Gran Via metro stop and found it right across the way. The first room we were given had a leaky pipe in the bathroom and the floor was soaking wet. Someone had strategically placed the waste bin under the leak to catch the worst of it but this was now over-flowing with water. We got another room, an emergency room held over for emergencies. It was quite out of the way, quiet and a bit cooler than the other but it was crammed with beds. We decided to make do.

After two weeks of Spanish food, Jess was craving rice and other Asian flavours so we found a nice Thai restaurant and settled in for the night.

Day 60: Rained off

We woke up next morning to the sound of rain but decided to brave the wet weather in our rain gear. After brekkie, we prepared our bikes for the the day's ride. By the time we put on our gear, the drizzle had transformed into heavy rain. Stubborn as we are, we persisted. It was only when we pushed our bikes that we realised Robin's tyre had a puncture and the wheel was completely flat.

Ok - looks like it was not meant to be so we relaxed in our comfy room for the morning. We took a couple of hours in the afternoon to explore Alhama town and had a home cooked dinner at Paco's.

Day 59: Back to Alhama

Next day, we were back on the horse (or bikes) again. The ride was rather boring and was eventually linked up with the route of the first day's cycle. Halfway, the rain came pouring down and as you would, 2 sweaty cyclists welcomed the cooling shower. We were glad to be back in Alhama, especially since we knew we would have 2 days in Paco's lovely pension.

The owner, Paco, was a former famous Flamenco star. He was typically Spainish and gave us the warmest welcome into his hotel. It was that small establishment which we had our first 2 breakfasts in. Rather inconspicuous establishment in a quiet side street, with the restaurant in the front. There was a small terrace with comfy cushions and the most amazing view of Alhama. The walls were white washed and the decor tasteful. We felt fortunate to be welcomed into his little boutique hotel.

Paco showed us to our room and insisted we enjoy some drinks in the terrace with him. He generously opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. We salute to each other and enjoyed the crisp white wine while chatting with another English couple that started the cycle a couple of days before us. After a couple of hours of chit chat, we retired into our room for our usual scheduled date with sitcoms.

Unfortunately Paco must have had a hot date that night as there was no dinner service in the hotel. We wandered the town again looking for somewhere to eat. The results were less than impressive that night but we made up for it with good conversations and wine.

Day 58: Granada

Finally! A rest day! Needless to say, we took advantage of our rest day by indulging in some snoozing. It wasn't till after lunchtime that we started the day's activity. Alhambra Castle was the major highlight so we decided to spend the rest of our afternoon exploring the site. Instead of taking the tourist bus to get the castle, we took our time to check out the city and strolled to the castle. The walk leading into the castle grounds was really pleasant as we were constantly surrounded by tall leafy trees. The gentle slopes of al-Sabika slowed my monkey fiance down a little so I was able to enjoy this romantic stroll at my pace. :)

When we got to the top of the hill, we discovered that the tickets to the main palace were sold out but we were still able to explore the grounds. Fortunately for us, the other attractions were just as good. The castle that they built in 9th century, a military fortress with a view over the whole city, became a royal residence in the 13th century. It was well preserved and we spent hours wandering the beautiful rose gardens and admired the sun setting over Granada from the fortress walls.

Day 57: Cycle to Granada

Bright and early after a good night's rest, we packed up quickly and headed downstairs for our breakfast. The breakfast was disappointing but we ended up having a nice conversation with the receptionist. The young man nervously stopped us before we were heading upstairs to brush our teeth and enquired about our backpacking adventures. He felt inspired to take on a similar adventure after hearing about us from Terry. It felt good that we had some kind of positive impact on this young man's life. He wished us well for our travels ahead and just before we hopped on our bikes, we encouraged him to follow his heart if he really wanted to take a few months off work.

The sky was clear blue and air was still. Despite our tired muscles, it felt good to be pedaling again. We cycled through the town centre and the scenic ascent started as soon as we left Montefrio. We warmed up quickly and not long after our start, we were covered in sweat. The view was worth the climb. We took a breather when we got to the top for a sip of water and waved goodbye to Montefrio.

The next hour was rather pleasant as we conquer the undulating slopes of Andalusia. Although we were cycling on paved roads, it was surprisingly free of traffic. The advantage of cycling uphill is that you get the chance to enjoy the passing views as if you were trekking (not that we didn't enjoy the adrenalin rush of flying downhill at 60 km/h). The notes for the cycle today mentioned a short climb that would mark the halfway point in our day's cycle. The ascent turned out to be very steep and rather long, we cursed Terry's notes under our breath as we pumped hard on the pedals. The previous days of cycling had added much needed miles to our legs but it was definitely hard work. As we were just starting to see light at the end of the tunnel, we spotted a familiar figure next to a van on the shoulder of the road holding a camera. Terry spotted us climbing uphill, en route to Granada with our bags, and took some lovely pictures. We had a quick chat and powered on.

The next hour was mostly downhill with some short ascents and we stopped in a small town for our usual beer and (free) tapas break. I am not usually a fan of beer but I must say it was really inviting and cooling after a hard morning's cycle. We cooled down and enjoyed our little plates of fried fish and calamari.

Rejuvenated with our hour long break, we pushed on to our final destination, Granada. The cycle was meant to be a 13 km cycle off-road along a river bed, which we were really looking forward to after hours of cycling on paved roads. After a minor debate about directions, we set off on a bumpy road. It didn't take us long to the end of the bumpy road before Granada came into view. Due to the summer heat, the water level in the river was really low. We knew we were very close to the city when we started seeing rubbish carelessly dumped along the road. As we came into the outskirts of Granada city, we followed the cycling tracks and finished off the last section in good time.

The last 500 metres took longer than anticipated due to roadworks in the inner city and we were glad to be out of our sweaty clothes as soon as we checked into our designated hotel. We spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the AC after our refreshing shower watching American sitcoms.

Night came and we rewarded ourselves with an extremely satisfying dinner of codfish caparccio and Spanish wine before topping it off with 2 strong Pina Coladas.

Day 56: Cycle to Montefrio

Today we left Alhama bound for Montefrio, a small town 55km North of Alhama. The route took us through many olive tree plantations. Each tree is spaced about 5 metres apart and planted in straight lines over the undulating hill-sides. They don't seem to need much water as the land is parched dry. Most of the ride was easy enough and we stopped for a beer a tapa and later had a picnic lunch under the only shade we found in quite some time.

Another couple of cyclists passed us and they gave us a friendly wave as they saw us chilling under our tree. They had just begun the long, slow climb before Montefrio, a 13 kilometre stretch that featured only days earlier in the Vuelta de Espana, Spain's premier bike race. They looked like they were suffering under the heat of the day and soon we would be too. We downed the last of our lunch and spent the next while counting off the kilometre markers along the roadside. As we climbed we passed the names of Spanish cyclists painted on the road. Robin's positive mental approach was being stretched to its limit as he constantly reassured himself and Jess that the top of the hill was marked by this next white house. "Maybe not this white house but look! there is another white house up ahead and I think that is the top." Twenty white houses later and we were free-wheeling down to Montefrio and soon the hill was forgotten.

Montefrio is a town on the tourist trail mostly for its picturesque approach view which has a church perched up high on a rocky outcrop overlooking the town and a domed mosque built when this part of Spain was in the hands of the Moors, a Muslim people from North Africa. We were the only guests in our hotel which was a nice old building but very comfortably furnished. We had a well deserved drink and headed into town for something to eat. Despite it being after 8pm, restaurants were not open so we walked the narrow streets and waited until our recommended diner opened. Food was no disappointment, though we were beginning to realise that the Spaniards sense of dinner time was not conducive to hungry cyclists fresh off their bikes. I bet the pros didn't have to wait for their spaghetti.

Day 55: Cycle around the lake

The next morning we were up bright and early and got our bikes. By the time we had finished setting ourselves up and chatting to the talkative Terry most of the morning was gone and the sun was well and truly bearing down on us. Another delay came when we realised we had forgotten the camera and upon backtracking to get it, we realised we had taken the wrong road out of town. A narrow escape.

The ride climbed out of Alhama up a steep hill overlooking the valley so we had to warm up pretty quickly. The descent that followed wound through evergreen forest and then we found ourselves cycling through farm-land.

Eventually we proceeded around a lake and stopped for lunch at a nice campsite restaurant. The rest of the route took us over a dam and up a veeeery long, gradual climb. All in all it was a great introduction to the Andalusian country-side and we returned to Alhama tired but ready for the days to come.

Day 54: Onward to Alhama for our cycling trip

While in Chamonix we had booked a 5 day cycling holiday in the South of Spain around Andalucia. This entailed us getting up at 4am and catching a 6 o'clock flight from Barcelona to Granada and then a bus to Alhama, a small town where we would start and end our mini Tour of Spain.

After a long day of sitting around at stations and on buses we arrived in the evening and were met by Lisa, the wife of Terry, who was to be our ground support staff and general problem solver. As we learned later, Terry and Lisa are an English couple who were looking for a new life. They received a tip-off that Alhama was a nice town, travelled out one cold October weekend and had bought a house by Tuesday. Now they run a couple of businesses here including a bike and hiking tour operation.

We settled into our accommodation. Figuring out the digital TV controls to replace the Spanish soundtrack with its original English one allowed us to enjoy some American sitcoms. A habit that was to become our post-cycle relaxation regime.

We explored the town. It was quite small and finding eating options that were more than tapas was problematic. Luckily, we found a Spanish/Italian restaurant that was a highlight. We chose their tapas sampler menu which turned out to be dish after dish of tasty food. We were stuffed by the end and couldn't finish the desert tapas but we made sure their amazing tiramisu did not escape our attention.

Day 53: Gaudi's Barcelona

We only had one day to see the sights of Barcelona so we got up early and we were straight on to the metro, destination - Sagrada Familia. This famous cathedral is a work in progress and has been since the mid 1800s. The queue to get in stretched right around one side of the block but we figured it would be worth it. I had been here about 7 or 8 years ago and in that time it has progressed some. The interior now cleared of most scaffolding is starting to resemble a large church and the vaulted ceilings and "forest"-style columns can be appreciated in their grandeur. We listened to audio guides to get a better understanding of the work that we were seeing. We queued for even longer than the queue for the admission tickets in order to take a lift up one of the towers and walked down the spiral staircases which allows you to get a closer look at some of the rooftop details. Apparently it is due to be completed in the 2020s but judging by the scale model of the finished plan they have quite some way to go.

Next on our tour was Park Guell, another Gaudi stop. This park has some nice buildings that look like they were made of gingerbread. The main seating terrace was crammed with tourists so we didn't hang around much here. My favourite part of this park is the columns supporting some of the footpaths. These are done in the same style as columns in the church with clever vaulting techniques but built roughly with unhewn sandstone rocks that make it seem as if they spontaneously appeared from nature.

Finally, we walked from the park towards the city center via the final stop on our Gaudi tour, La Pedrera. This apartment block has an example apartment to explore as well as the roof top with its unique chimneys to look at.

After all our walking we ended up in La Rambla, at the heart of the city. We were hungry and went looking for food. We were not very fortunate. There are a ton of places to eat and it is hard to know which is good and which is bad. We tried the guidebook for advice. It lead us through some back streets to a location which while I'm sure it would have provided the promised good food, seemed a bit stuffy for our liking. We wanted something a bit more casual with tapas and beer and so we wandered a bit further. The place we settled on was alright but not great. The seafood tapas were not particularly fresh and it all seemed like we could have done better.

Not to worry, we headed for a bar. We found a nice one. The music was relaxed, not so loud that we couldn't hear ourselves talk. There was cartoon-inspired artwork on the walls. We drank a few glasses of wine and had a good time talking about Barcelona and our impressions of what it would be like to live here.

As we were about to leave I headed to the toilet while Jess waited at our table. I came back and was waiting to pay at the bar when I noticed some guy was talking to Jess and showing her his phone. Then he left and we exchanged puzzled glances across the room. It only took ten seconds of distraction in a busy bar for his accomplice to snatch our day pack from the floor where I had been sitting!

I ran outside to see if they were hanging around. That was unlikely and to be honest a good thing. I guess I wasn't thinking clearly, I was just angry. After wandering around the corner and down a side street I spotted the bag, tossed under a parked van. I picked it up and gathered the few items they had tossed as useless to them. They had taken our sun-glasses (expensive polarised lens, sports models) and our hats which was very annoying as they can't have been worth anything to them.

Returning to the bar we realised how it could have been worse. I had my wallet in my hand at the time and the camera which ordinarily would have been in the bag was in my pocket as we had been photographing the bar's artwork.

The incident dampened our enthusiasm for Barcelona and we were glad to be leaving the next morning.

Day 52: To Barcelona

We packed up our tent and took an 8 hour bus ride to Barcelona. We mostly slept on the bus so we were keen to get out of the hostel once we checked in in Barcelona. Our hostel was out in the suburbs, not too bad given the good metro system but we decided to eat locally.

The staff at the hostel recommended a small place in a side street on the map they gave us and so we headed there. By the time we arrived it was pretty quiet. Although it was late, we had been assured that Spaniards eat late and that this would be no problem. It didn't look like that when we walked in. There were no other customers, a lady was folding up the table cloths and there was a distinct feeling from the staff who were standing around at the bar that they were finishing up after a less than stellar business day. None-the-less the owner ushered us in and soon warmed up to the idea of serving us. The staff went back to the kitchen and only the old lady gave her presumed husband a dirty look of disapproval.

The menu was a set price 3 course meal, decidedly slim on options but we were just happy to be served and we chose rock-roasted chicken and grilled pork. The ingredients were simple but the cooking was great. After the meal, we were lead out through another door to their locals bar where we were given a shot of something rather strong but tasty. There were smiles all round and we left happy.

Day 51: Saint Remy market, Hell´s Valley, Cathedral D´Images, Les Baux de Provence

We slept like babies for the night due to another even bigger downpour than the previous night. We could actually feel the stream of rain water under our tent and cuddled closer when we saw lightening... what an experience! The cooler night temperature was really soothing when we have a travelling tent that does not usually give us much wiggle room. The only downer was that both our backpacks were dampened. After finding some clean (and dry) clothes to wear, we headed back to the city for our day trip.

It was off to a good start with only 8 participants, including the guide and us. So it was a nice cosy group. We were fearing the worse that it might be a group of 20 and a guide with a loud speaker and a flag. The guide spoke excellent English and gave us a good introduction to Provence. The first stop was Saint Remy and we drove through tree tunnels and past lavender fields and olive trees. I sadly discovered that we have missed the lavender harvest and the rolling fields of purple beauty was only available once a year in July. Nevertheless it was still beautiful and we felt fortunate to be enjoying the view. Our guide informed us that Provence was home to famous artists like Cezanne and Van Gogh and we could see why. The peaceful surroundings and perfect weather. We were only there for 2 nights and we could appreciate the appeal.

After an hour´s drive, we found ourselves in Saint Remy´s market and were informed we had 90 minutes of free and easy time. Wednesday is a major market day in Saint Rémy-de-Provence and the crowds certainly proved it. The market spreads across parking areas and squares around the northern and western parts of the Boulevards ringing the old town of St Rémy. The stalls sell everything from handmade jewellery to fresh fruits bursting with summer goodness. I could easily be lost in here for days! We went straight for the fresh produce and bought ourselves a punnet of farm fresh strawberries and white peaches as a treat for later. There were a fair few fashion designers to show case their handmade clothes of all styles, scarves of all conceivable colour and design. We decided to be utterly and completely lost for the next hour. After wandering around for some hidden gems, we stumbled across a small studio with some beautiful and disturbing photographs. We greeted the artist while he was having a smoke outside and was instantly captured by his photographs. His work left us speechless and if you are interested to see why we both fell in love with his pictures, please have a look at his website

www.flyingblindpictures.com

Moving on from the studio, we decided to stop for a little snack by the fountain. One downside to backpacking for a long period of time was that you are not able to buy anything. Not necessarily that you couldn´t afford it but more so that you would not be able to afford the space. The delicious white peach was a great starter and lunch time was close, so we hunted around for some yummy street food and had our impromptu picnic under a leafy tree.

After our lunch break, we met up with the crew at the bus station and headed off to our next stop Valley of Hell and Cathedral D´Images. Below Les Baux is the irregular and jagged gorge whose caves used to be inhabited by people. Apparently people believed that witches, fairies and spirits live in these caves. We took a few snapshots and paused to admire the tranquility. Next stop was the Cathedral D´Images - a quarry that has been converted from a dark space of squared limestone columns into a 3D experience of the artists`photographs. The exhibition on display was directed by Jean Charbonneau and he took us on a journey for 60 minutes from the very beginning of Australia. It was really impressive.

We left the Cathedral feeling rather breathless and thanked our guide for recommending the Cathedral to us. The final stop was Les Baux. It was a village that stood still in time after the quarries were abandoned and was later preserved by the French government. The guide took us to an olive oil shop and we woke our taste buds while sampling some of France´s best olive oil. Pity - we couldn´t bring any of this back home with us. The guide informed us that we had some free time to ourselves before we headed back to Aix so we used the rest of our time to wander around the alleys and streets of Les Baux. It is not boldly magnificent like some of the architecture that you will see in big Italian cities but it was quietly confident. The sun was setting against the sand stone buildings and took a rest on a bench to soak in the beauty.

We snoozed on our way back to Aix on a rather long bus ride and it was dinner time by the time we arrived. The day ended with an even better night with an excellent Provencal dinner on a small street in old town.

Day 49 & 50: Onward to Aix En Provence

After a long day on the train, we arrived in Aix En Provence 30 minutes later than scheduled. A connecting train from Lyon to Aix en Provence TGV departed late and we ended up missing the last connecting bus from TGV to city centre. The 2 choices were to either walk 16 km or catch a cab to the campsite. Seeing that it was close to midnight and we were knackered, we made an executive decision to splurge on a taxi.

30 minutes and 45 euros later, we arrived at the campsite. We were eager to check out this 4 star rated campsite. Apparently there were excellent facilities and plenty of privacy for each plot. We got out of the cab and were dismayed to see that the reception was closed. It would be a very expensive night if we had to catch another cab back into the city. While I was contemplating the worst and Robin contemplated camping regardless, we heard the swish of a golf buggy and a youngish guy jumped out of it. He was typically French - lanky, oversized clothes and black rimmed glasses. He welcomed us and took our booking for 3 nights. Hearing Robin's Irish accent, he immediately launched into his work experience in Ireland a few years back.

After a brief friendly exchange, we were told to choose an available plot that we preferred and register with him later. The campsite was really quite tranquil and peaceful. The layout ensured that all campers had their own privacy from each other and most importantly from the camper vans. There were tall oak trees all around and it was rather pleasant to hear the rustling of the leaves on this windy night. 20 Euros a night, we definitely made the right decision here.

We found a quiet corner and Robin headed off to register our home for the next 3 nights while I attempted to set up camp. Fortunately Robin didn't take too long with the check in and came back to help me with set up. This was definitely a stroke of luck because as soon as we nailed the last pin into the dry ground, we felt the heavy rain drops on our heads. It didn't take long before the drizzle developed into a downpour. We rushed to the campsite's bar/restaurant to seek some shelter. What the hell? Best thing to do after being caught in the rain while seeking shelter in the bar? Have a beer. So we did.

Next morning, we woke up bright and early. The night's sleep was really nice since the summer heat cooled considerably with the rain. It felt like we had a mini air conditioner in our very own tent. After a brekkie of left over bread, wild boar salami and boiled egg, we took a bus to the city centre. It was a lovely day after the rain, still slightly cloudy but just enough sun to warm your skin in the early hours of the morning. We breathed in the fresh air and strolled to the tourist office for some information. I have been wanting to do a wine tour and see the lavender fields of Provence for a long time so it was exciting to finally get a chance to do it. Unfortunately for me, the wine tour day trips were all sold out for the next day and we were only in town for one full day. The kind staff suggested that we do a scenic tour of Provence to see the real colours so we booked ourselves in for the next day.

Day 48: Hike to Lacs Noir

We decided to devote our last full day in Chamonix to a hike. On the other side of the valley we could hike (from the gondola) to the top of the ridge, a climb of over a 1000 metres, with great views of Mount Blanc across the way. This hike was very good with lots of rocks to clamber over and amazing scenery as well as the Lacs Noir at the end which are lakes with peat-covered bottoms making them appear black. It was a great, fun hike. There were plenty of photo opportunities, we discovered a mini-glacier and we had a picnic at the top looking upon the lakes and Mount Blanc. We were much happier with our view of Mount Blanc today, having earned it with a trek.

We finished the day with a repeat visit to Munchies to round off a great week in Chamonix.

Day 47: (Biking) Over the Edge

The next day we were finally on bikes. We discussed with the bike shop assistant and determined that we could cycle on paths from Chamonix, up the valley past the next two villages. The route would take us through woodland along the river bank up one side and down the other and ascending for the first half and descending for the second half of the ride. It was 36km of off-road in total depending how far we went.

We cycled through town and soon we were whizzing by tree trunks and riding over roots on the soft forest floor. The sounds when biking in the woods are strangely quieter and muffled and the ground seems springy under the wheels. It is my favourite terrain for cycling.

The route was not particularly well-marked. At times we found ourselves back-tracking when we discovered we'd missed a turn and ended up on the wrong side of a stream. On one occasion we chose some single track and were alarmed to find a couple barrelling down in the opposite direction, only our alertness averting an accident as we quickly jumped off the trail. Usually, single track is sign-posted as one way to avoid such scenarios but not here. We figured it was easier to stick to the wider trails, less exciting though they were.

The route soon got tough with some lung-busting climbs but we were enjoying it just the same. A cheeky Frenchman gave some words of encouragement to us as he overtook us up a particularly hard climb. After an hour we made it to the first village. There were some sketchy routing decisions through here and we got told off by an angry local for taking a route through a lane by his back yard. Fair enough, we didn't want to knock down any elderly pedestrians and we were going slowly for that reason but the signs for the route were never clear.

The next stretch after the village got tricky. Steep uphill with a trail that was all networks of gnarly tree roots. It would have vexed the most skilled of bikers but for us it was too much and we were off and walking. Not what we would have expected for a moderately-graded trail.

After stopping to admire some find looking dogs being taken for their strolls we were back on our bikes and cycling along on what was described in the map as a "shelf". By this they meant steep slopes down to our left and up to our right and a narrow path between, the entire hill covered in trees. The path was like a shelf etched into the hillside. The riding now was easier as it was mostly level and contoured along the hillside. It was then that Jess took an unfortunate detour off the "shelf" with a yelp and plummeted down through the trees. A frantic Robin ran back to the scene of the cry and after some anxious moments of seeing neither Jess nor the bike, the scene unfolded before him. Jess had come to a stop where her bike and legs hooked onto a tree trunk about 10 meters down the slope. He scrambled down to untangle the mess. Jess was calm considering her plight, lucky to have hit a tree, considering the fall awaiting if she had not.

Back up on the path, we surveyed the injuries. A deep gash on the back of Jess's leg left a neat imprint of gear cogs and blood mixed with oil. It looked bad but it wasn't bleeding too much considering the number of puncture wounds in her here-to-fore unblemished calf. We made an improvised bandage with Robin's buff and after calming ourselves from the shock, we cycled on.

We were more subdued until we decided to stop for lunch and that lifted our spirits right up. We sat on some rocks in the river bed, with a view down the valley to snow-capped mountains. We broke out the Reblochon cheese we had bought and enjoyed it with some fresh French baguette and wild boar pepperoni we'd been saving since the Dolomites. Topped off with a peach and the tastiest vanilla yoghurt we've ever had, it was just what was needed.

The second half of the day was mostly downhill thankfully, some of it very fast indeed and great fun and soon the memories of the crash were put to the back of our minds. After nurse Robin cleaned the patient's wounds, we relaxed with a DVD night and plenty of wine to soothe the pain.