But the thing about living in Australia – a country the size of Europe with the population of Greater London – is that it’s just impossible to have trains leaving every five minutes to every populated patch of land. You’d need more train drivers than there are people across the whole continent! And so it has finally become necessary for me to evolve from Driven to Driver and procure my own set of wheels.

If I have to transport myself around though, I want to have fun. I can’t afford a plane or helicopter, a boat is only practical for seaside destinations, jet-packs are still far too impractical and economically inefficient, so that left me deciding on a motorbike. With the words from Iron Maiden’s From Here to Eternity and Megadeth’s 502 running through my head I completed a few hours of training, and was then sent through the gates of the training centre legally allowed to make a mess of myself on the Devil’s Bend or under any of the 88 wheels of a road train. I was back on track for that big Rock n Roll crash ending I’d always half-expected!

I won’t bore you with details of any of my near-misses, minor crashes, or even the major ones, but one phenomenon I have noticed which tickles me is the exclusive club I seem to have involuntarily joined. When I first started riding, I would occasionally think that I saw another rider on the road nod his head in my direction, but the more time I spent on the road the more I realised this was definitely happening. Maybe they think they recognised me – we must all look fairly similar with helmets and leathers on – but no, that’s not it. I know they can’t be acknowledging the quality of my ride; it’s a scuffed-up 22-year-old Japanese shit-heap! But still if a fellow rider pulled up beside me at the lights, cruised by whilst overtaking, or came past in the opposite lane he would look across and dip his head.

Then I realised this was simply an acknowledgement that we were on a vehicle with the same number of wheels. We were part of a prestigious club, albeit one which has millions of members nationwide. At first I thought it was as ludicrous as waving to everyone that drives past in a car the same colour as you, and laughed and ignored people who I saw doing it, but somehow I seem to have been taken in by it! As bikers we all share something more than just a choice of transportation; it’s a choice of lifestyle and a reflection of our personalities. Excitement determines what we do day-to-day, not practicality. We are thrill-seekers. We all think we have style; maybe even that we are the elite, better than everyone that needs four wheels to get around! And it’s not just a nod, it’s more akin to doffing one’s hat as a sign of mutual respect, or maybe a secret hand-shake! We share a secret – and that secret is how f***ing cool and liberating it is to be screaming down the road, leaning in to the corners, sailing past endless lines of traffic with the wind in our… helmets.

I’ve noticed a trend that certain riders do it more than others. Anyone on a cruiser, particularly a Harley, will always do it. Maybe because they’re the most pompous of all bike riders (I can’t wait to own one myself!) and yet no one on a moped will ever do it. Maybe they’re ashamed. I like to think so. Now when I find myself nodding at riders coming the other way I get a genuine sense of pride that I’m a biker as well. And I hate myself for it! What’s worse is that I get annoyed if they don’t do it back! There seems to actually be some people out there with enough of their own cool that they don’t need other people to acknowledge them to make them feel special. Bastards. Who do they think they are? I doffed my hat at you, sir, and you do not do likewise?! You have offended me and insulted my honour! Prepare to duel!

Or maybe I’m just over-thinking this.

I love that sentiment that where you end up has a lot to do with chance, and so I sometimes like to add a random element to my travels. So when money was dwindling and I was in need of moving on I started a search for a job across all of Australia. I knew I would probably have to take work in a city where most of the web development jobs were, but in addition to the big state capitals that offer most opportunities there are a plenty of smaller cities and towns which support enough business that the occasional computer programmer is required. I had worked in Sydney before, and knew there was plenty of work there, but I was hoping for something new; something that would take me to a new place where I could experience a new flavour of Australiana, meet new people – start a new chapter of my life.

I had been looking for a couple of weeks and heard very little other than the sycophantic calls from agents who have found me the ‘perfect match’ only never to call back again. It probably didn’t help that for half that time I had been on an island with no phone signal, or at least that is what I told myself to explain the lack of interest I was receiving. But eventually I got the call I had been waiting for, and an interview had been set up. So with an array of cheat-sheets spread out in front of me, I had the telephone interview that was hopefully going to determine where I would be living for the next few months.

I heard back from the interview in a couple of days, and was offered the job working as a Web Developer on the support team of a digital agency called Sputnik. So I put aside any reservations I had about having to go back to coding Classic ASP and started planning my move to Melbourne!

A week later and I was living in The Lord’s Lodge, a hostel I had stayed in before and which was a great place to meet people. The advantage of living in a hostel is everyone is there to make friends, everyone is new to the city or even to Australia, and everyone is up for a good time!

I had a couple of days to settle in before my job, so I unpacked my stuff and hung up my clothes for the first time in a couple of months. I had my own room – apparently a ‘bungalow’, though I think ‘potting shed’ was more appropriate, for although there weren’t too many freshly sprouted seedlings and garden tools, the place had a distinct air of a cramped garden shed about it that even the fairy lights around the window couldn’t dispel. I went to meet my agent and find out a bit more about the job. Well, that is why I went to meet her but not necessarily the outcome of our conversation. It seemed the job was a bit of a mystery, but would be fun. And once that was conversation was quickly dealt with we got on to more serious matters. Music. She’s very plugged in to the local musos’ scene and her boyfriend works in a guitar shop, so off we went to meet him and an hour later, on my first day in Melbourne, I was on the bus heading back to the hostel with a shiny new guitar and amplifier. I was ready to start city life!

The job turned out to be just as fun as I had hoped, and although there was a fair amount of Classic ASP support the job was so varied, working for dozens of clients throughout the week, I got to play with lots of websites, applications, and technologies. A few oldies required a bit of attention as I tried to remember concepts like XSLT coding from eight years ago, but I was pleased to be able to play with some more recent languages and new one ones too. But aside from the work, the place had a great energy to it. An open plan office with lots of areas to relax in – a nice coffee machine in the kitchen, bean bags and cushions spread over an area known as ‘the grassy knoll’, a fridge full of beer, even a room periodically reserved for massages! And the people I now work with are a good bunch too; some real boffins! One guy is using Arduino chips to help the office tomato plant send text messages and post instructions on Twitter when it needs watering or more sunlight; another person worth knowing is the guy who orders in our weekly hoard of beer and then promptly delivers the first one to your desk at 5pm every day! I can see myself getting used to this place.

Although at times I miss the mountain air or the solitude of island life, living in a city again has its advantages. It had been a while, and although I had spent a fair amount of time in my previous year pottering in London, Melbourne has a very different feel. I don’t live or work right in the CBD, so maybe that contributes a bit to the more laid back vibe, but I think it is something typical of most of the city; less rushing, less traffic, more smiling. And typically my first few nights out were spent getting to know the people who work in a few decent bars and restaurants! I quickly found out where to get the best coffees, beers, and cocktails. Which place serves the tastiest souvlaki and which to go to for some decent pasta; and where the best conversation and music can be heard.

Melbourne is as much a bohemian city as it is a metropolitan one. Street art is huge here, with tours operating to show the visitors to the city some of the finest examples. Every street corner or alleyway proclaims some mural of interest so it hardly seems necessary to join a group! There are plenty of buskers keeping the spirit of live music and celebration of freedom alive, such as Brendan who plays home-made ‘Dag Pipes’ made from an empty goon bag and an air-bed pump! Living practically on Chapel Street also meant I was close to both the fancy and the affordable – expensive restaurants and wine bars at one end and great local pubs at the other. The shops too cover all grounds, whether I want to buy a posh new frock or wander around the ‘op-shops’ looking for second hand treasures.

After a little over a week in The Lord’s Lodge I had drank too much, slept too little, and met lots of people. It was time to find a place of my own now I felt more at home and settled in, and it was with a professional skater amongst others that I decided to stay. It seemed a logical middle ground between a hostel and a quiet place of my own; with lots of visitors, friendly laid back people, and a kitchen and bathroom only shared with three other people!

And that’s where I am now living, gradually accruing more unnecessary baubles to adorn the room with – it started with pillows, posters and plants but slowly more is being added to make my room feel more like a home; a box or two of wine, a pile of books and an ever-growing collection of unsolved Rubik’s puzzles!

I’ve found Melbourne a difficult place to photograph; it would appear I’m much more at home with photographing lizards and trees – but I’ve tried to grab a few snaps, so take a look!

So when I saw a big cactus one day, covered with these delicious fruits which taste somewhere between watermelon and bubble gum, I was pleased at the chance to grab a few and strike back at this delicious weed, and do a bit for the native ecology. But I wasn’t the only one who had plans to striking out.

My first problem was the height of the cactus. The fruits were well out of reach, so I had to jump and grab. There are a few things I didn’t know about the prickly pear cactus which would have come in handy at this point. The first is that the pads are quite delicately attached to the bulk of the cactus, so if you try and pull a fruit that is still well attached you are liable to pull a branch covered with the things down on top of you. And the second thing I wasn’t aware of is that the little bastards have two types of spines on them. Each fruit might have a dozen visible spines like needles which are easily avoided, but they also have hundreds of hair-like spines which are so small they will cause hours of irritation over any part of exposed skin they come in to contact with. It was shortly after gathering a handful of them and sucking the sweet juice from my fingers that this last fact came into painful focus.

Imagine if you like, coming across a piece of wood covered in splinters and honey – and being too preoccupied with nature’s delicious natural sugars to stop and think before licking up the honey, splinters and all. At first it was a vaguely irritating sensation in my hands which I tried to remedy by finding all the little bastards and either plucking them out or more often snapping them off. Trying to dislodge those in the roof of my mouth with fingers still covered in the pesky needles seemed to be very counterproductive, and so eventually I resorted to donuts to flush the things through my system. Lots and lots of donuts.

So it was a couple of days before I felt an urge for sugary goodness which justified the inconvenience of the prickly fruits. But this time I was prepared! Using tongs (genius!) I held them over the gas burner on the hob and burnt all the little needles off. I imagined them screaming, in a fleeting moment of vindictive vengeance. And it was good. Cutting the skins off, and not being prickled once, I felt ready to enjoy the bright pink bounty staining the work top in front of me. So after a few quick samples, I threw the rest in a pot and cooked them up! I strained the juice after twenty minutes, added a heap of sugar, and cooked until it was too hot to continue stirring. When it gets hot enough, the sugar molecules change and then when the syrup cools it solidifies. So after a few minutes in the fridge, I had my first ever batch of prickly pear candy.

Vaguely pleasant to the taste, criminally dangerous to the teeth, and damaging to anything it came into contact with during the cooking process which wasn’t already pink. Probably easier to stick with chocolate.

It helped that the setting I had in mind was a tropical island in North Queensland. There’s something about remoteness that I think consolidates a community, brings people out of their shell and encourages friendships to become very strong very quickly. Maybe I’m just being overly-sentimental, but the friendships I made in six weeks living on Magnetic Island made such a huge difference to my time in Australia. The send-off party we had when we left was the most surprising event of all – with all sorts of people coming out to wish us bon voyage, and I was eager to get back and see them all.

I arrived at Townsville airport not long before Matt arrived back from his latest stint in the mines. When I moved out of my room on the Island Matt moved in, and I was looking forward to spending some time catching up whilst I stayed with him and Anthony, and Matt’s better half Jenna. I say ‘better half’ because I very quickly found out that Jenna was not only outside the airport waiting to take us to the Island in her ute, but she was also going to be stopping off at the bottle-shop to fill the back with lovely cold beers and as many boxes of wine as we could carry out of the shop!

The next few days were spent wandering between bars along the bay front; starting the days with bloody Mary’s and following them with jug after jug of margaritas in Noodies On The Beach, then after a plate of nachos maybe we’d head down to The Marlin Bar for a couple of jugs of beer and a steak, then back to Noodies. There’s not a lot of choice on that corner of the island, but when you have plenty of sun, good company and the bar owner insists on putting a sombrero on your head to commemorate your commitment to cocktails, you can’t really find fault with life. It’s just a great place to while away the days. There were lots of people I wanted to catch up with, and you could guarantee most of them would wander by at some point. So it was mainly outside these bars that I was able to catch up with old friends and make a few new ones as well.

After a week I went to stay with two other wonderful friends, Ally and Danielle, who came over from England a couple of years ago and have been living on the island ever since. Their house is in an amazing setting. Practically opening out into a currently completely parched lagoon, you can sit on the veranda on one side of the house and see lush rainforest trees and plants in any direction, see a dozen different coloured dragon flies around the pond, the sunbird nesting next to the porch door, hear the koalas grumbling in the trees, and the wallabies bounding across the neighbouring gardens.

A new addition to their family is Juno, a little Jack Russell / Papillon with as much character as he has energy and boldness! I learnt very quickly that if you throw him a ball or a bottle-top you will have a friend for life. And he was incessant! I don’t think there was a single occasion where he tired before my arm and my patience! And next door is Natalie who we partied with plenty of times when we lived together a year ago, and who now lives with, amongst others, Juno’s sister Phoebe. Lots of fun was to be had with the two dogs, especially when splashing them from Natalie’s pool and watching the pair of them try everything possible to get the balls out of the pool short of going in themselves. Strange creatures.

The island is full of other strange animals too, and I suppose I couldn’t leave them out of any discussion about the personalities that draw me to the island. There is my favourite spider on the island: the golden orb weaver. A huge and elegant looking arachnid with bright golden bands around its knees, not particularly venomous, but you would certainly notice its fangs sinking into your skin! There are also a couple of species of bat on the island, the large fruit bats which can be heard swooping over head or screeching in the trees where they roost, and a smaller bat which likes to hide in the eaves of old abandoned buildings such as an old gun entrenchments or powder store up on the hill. Also up there are the always fascinating koalas. It’s not uncommon to see them on the island as it houses the largest wild colony of the animals of an estimated 300. The ones that stand out from this visit where a pair I found sitting half way up a tree, and managed to get very close to. I climbed up the cliff face and sat on a rock so I was head height with the mother and four or five-month old Joey, and spent the best part of an hour just sitting and watching. The baby was fascinated by me, but the mother wasn’t so sure. She would steer him away with a firm hand on his shoulders until he was round the other side of the tree branch, but the cheeky little one would clamber and wriggle and sneak round until he could sit and watch me again. Eventually the mother gave up trying to stop him, and they both sat there nibbling on leaves whilst I watched and enjoyed their sedentary company.

I spent some time with other animals as well, which I hadn’t really considered when I was there before: the island’s horses. Danielle was working on a ranch, so one day I joined her and the other workers on a ride out across the island. I hadn’t been on a horse for many years, and think I was probably less than graceful as I struggled to make the beast move, or stop, or just try and hold on without getting too injured in the process. It was certainly a couple of days before I could sit down comfortably afterwards! I’m sure there must be a better design for a saddle, one which takes the male anatomy into consideration; or maybe I just need to learn how to sit in it properly.

It was a great way to see the island, going down a few tracks I hadn’t seen before and then arriving at the end of the long Horseshoe bay beach and pelting down it clinging on to my horse and desperately trying to steer him away from the trees with low branches he seemed intent on trying to brain me with. After the run, we cooled off in the sea, riding our swimming horses bare-back, listening to them snorting and playing in the surf and dodging the occasionally floating accident.

A couple of nights later we were all back down that end of the beach, sitting round a huge fire – drinking, dancing, fire spinning and celebrating. Day or night, the beach is a great place to relax and so it was with a modicum of inebriation I spent another great night on the island with my friends.

I hope you like the photos I took on this visit to Magnetic Island

I’ve been asked many times why I like Australia so much and why I want to live here, and I struggle to put it in to words every time. The country holds so many attractions to me, the mystery of the vast expanse that I have yet to explore, the friendliness of the people I have met at every town I have visited, the honest and forthright attitude of the society, the fact that it isn’t Britain – there are truly too many reasons to possibly mention.

And now I was back in the country I had been missing I had to decide where to spend those first few weeks. It wasn’t really a decision I had much of a part in – my heart led me straight back to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains where I had spent so many happy weeks throughout my previous year here. It was easy to settle back into life at The Flying Fox Backpackers, chopping wood for the evening fires, chatting to the people visiting from all sorts of places, and exploring the surrounding countryside. There is no other time I feel more content than when walking through the bush, and the Blue Mountains has some exquisite national parks in which to seek out Australian nature.

The area around Katoomba is a great place to get a taste the New South Wales bushland, as the walks are accessible, and the wildlife easy to spot. Around Echo Point there are sulphur crested and black cockatoos, rosellas, and the hugely vocal lyre birds, beautiful rock formations, there were waterfalls after the recent rain, and plenty of skinks, bearded dragons and other lizards basking on the hot rocks.

One day I was exploring a national park further down the mountain at Springwood. I had been walking down a path for a while when I saw a sign indicating the location of a pool someway off over the rocks – so away I scrambled. It may not have been entirely the correct route I was taking, or if it was this certainly wasn’t the path for the unadventurous. I made my way under, round, and through the trees covering the track; hopped from rock to rock, and edged closer to a rock wall I presumed must have held the pool. I was close before too long, and saw a huge lizard on a rock in front of me, so slowly squatting down I levelled the camera and made to take the photo. Then I saw something bright moving in the branches to me left – a snake!

I had seen snakes in Australia before, but never an unidentified one quite so close to my face. It was definitely within striking distance if it was so inclined to have a nip at me. Not so big that it would try and have me for dinner, but in a nation where a spider the size of a pea will still try and have a go at bringing you down – and potentially succeed – I didn’t want to take any chances.

So I froze.

There was not a lot more I could do! But he didn’t seem to be bothered by me, so as I felt more comfortable I started to enjoy his company. I took some photos, I must admit I even chatted to it for a while, and then when he began to slide off into the leaves I also made my decision to move on and resume my search for the pool.

I felt good that the snake was behind me, however pleased I was that I had actually seen it, and quickly put a few more meters between us and climbed over the rock wall. My heart still pumping from the adrenaline, I bounded across a few big boulders and was soon at the pool’s edge looking for yabbies and other small critters. I got close to the surface of the water and started peering in, trying to get glimpses under the rocks at the edge where the pretty little creatures like to hide, and in seconds realised I had moved my face within inches of another snake half hidden in the water! It was the same as the last one, but now I knew they were not only fond of lurking at head-height in trees but also were semi-aquatic hunters as well. His head was high out of the water and his gaze was locked with mine. I slowly backed away and sat atop the boulder I had clambered over, knowing that there was at least one snake behind me and one in front.

I gradually relaxed again, and took the time to take some photos of my new friend and enjoyed the sun and the serenity of the pool for a while. I had been sitting still for so long the wildlife was starting to come out all around me. The crimson rosellas and currawongs were close by in the trees around the pool, there were several skinks sunning themselves on the rocks, and I saw a water dragon scuttle over a boulder next to me and perch across the top. But I wasn’t the only one to spot him. At once I saw a flicker of yellow and green and a third snake dropped out of the tree above me, practically on top of me and sprung for the little water dragon. My heart was in my mouth! I hadn’t seen or heard this one approach, and suddenly it was in my lap and on the hunt! I felt claustrophobic despite the vastness of the area I was sitting in, convinced that every rock concealed a potentially dangerous critter, and knowing I was alone and far from the track. That it when I decided to leave, and ever so cautiously, inspecting every branch several times to ensure it wasn’t an animal before moving underneath them or pushing them aside I made my way back to the trail.

With renewed vigour and a rediscovered feeling of security I continued along the track for a few more hours, chasing yellow-tailed black cockatoos, huge lizards, dragon flies, and all sorts of birds – but at least partly to my relief I didn’t see any more snakes that day.

When I returned to the hostel I spoke to my herpetologist friend who helped me identify the snakes I had spent the majority of the afternoon with; A harmless tree snake that probably couldn’t even puncture my skin if it tried. I can’t wait to see them again, and next time I hope I won’t wet myself!

Pictures from those first few weeks, including plenty of the snakes are in my Blue Mountains gallery

I remember the stifling humidity when we stepped off the coach and began our short walk to the hostel down the road, but this was easily ignored as the senses were overloaded with new sights, sounds, and smells. Everywhere I looked as we walked through the streets of Bangkok I could see the different temples with their brightly coloured roofs and gables down nearly every street and was keen to get a closer look.

We spent our first day visiting several of the main temples in Bangkok, a name which westerners use in preference for the rather longer full Thai name of Krung-dēvamahānagara amararatanakosindra mahindrayudhyā mahātilakabhava navaratanarājadhānī purīramya utamarājanivēsana mahāsthāna amaravimāna avatārasthitya shakrasdattiya vishnukarmaprasiddhi (which translates to “The city of angels, the great city, the eternal jewel city, the impregnable city of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated god, a city given by Indra and built by Vishnukarm”.) The first visit was to the Grand Palace and the temples and monuments within. The colour and boldness of the architecture was breathtaking, with gold, red, green and blue rooftops of tiny tiles and many different statues of demons, mythological creatures, and soldiers. Inside the palace is Wat Phra Kaew or The Temple of the Emerald Buddha – the most sacred Buddhist temple in Thailand wherein the ‘emerald’ (jade) Buddha sits atop a large highly decorated plinth and the whole temple grounds are decorated by statues pagodas and other holy buildings. The next temple we visited was Wat Pho, The Temple of the Reclining Buddha, surprisingly containing a massive (46m) reclining Buddha. The day progressed with more visits to monasteries and temples, markets and shops, and restaurants and street vendors’ carts.

Having grown up eating pretty much any food that was put in front of me, Thai cuisine was something I was quite used to. The strong and diverse flavours and aromas make it a distinctive and highly enjoyable style, and the propensity for explosive additions of chilli only add to the excitement of eating an indistinguishable pile of food bought from the back of a trolley on a random street corner. Sometimes this would mean enjoying the most amazing curry which would make my eyes stream with tears of happiness as much as tears of pain as the blend of flavours assaulted every taste bud in my mouth; and other times I would choke on the last bits of leg and wing of a cricket before reaching straight for a nice squishy meal worm to take the taste away. Sticks of barbecued chicken or pork (I am guessing) were sold on every street in the centre of town and were often quite different in flavour – so at just a few pence each, it was worth trying them everywhere they were found. And if the walk to the restaurant at the end of the day seemed a little bit too long it was worth grabbing a delicious bag of dried fish or soft-shelled crabs to munch on during the journey. The Thai food has always been one of the main reasons I have wanted to visit the country, one of the main reasons I will go back, and the only reason I needed to buy some larger trousers during the five days I was there.

A couple of days in Bangkok was all we could really afford with our flight to Australia in just a few days and so much of the country yet to experience, so our remaining time there was split between cruises and dinners on the Chao Phraya River, a trip out to the Island and city of Pattaya, and a visit to the ancient capital of Ayutthaya.

The journey to Pattaya was a long one and the scenery which passed by was intriguing and varied. Paddy fields, marshland, farms, temples, and all manner of wildlife. As we approached Pattaya the roads were flooded after heavy rains throughout the morning and the residents were struggling to keep the water from entering their homes and shops. a quick change into swimming shorts was required before we paddled out to the boat in the bay and set off for a nearby island. The speedboat was incredibly fast, and the sea was somewhat choppy which left most of us passengers with bruises, newfound adrenaline addictions and stomachs lost several feet up in the air above us. Halfway out we stopped off at a jetty and I couldn’t resist a quick paraglide, and so locked in and suspended by a very inconveniently located strap between the legs I leapt from a jetty platform and soared through the air like a very inelegant and somewhat uncomfortable bird. After all that excitement it was with a certain amount of relief that the rest of the day was to involve lazing on a beach, swimming in the clear waters, and eating piles and piles of freshly caught seafood.

Ayutthaya the next day was a markedly different experience. Travelling all over the area we saw countless temples from the bell-shaped chedi to the tall prang temples. The place is teeming with history, as it was once the most important city of the old kingdom, and as we travelled back to Bangkok along the river we saw and learnt plenty more about this fascinating country.

Thailand is a huge place, and to try and see it in under a week was never going to happen, but I like to think that I managed to cram a lot in, both into my brain and my stomach, and still managed to have an afternoon lazing in the sun on a remote island beach. Next time I hope I will be there for a lot longer.

If you’d like to see some of the pictures I took please visit my Thailand gallery page.

Florence is such a stunning and grand place with palaces, museums, statues and beautiful buildings all around. I found the most impressive of these to be the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore which took over 140 years to construct during the 13^th, 14^th and 15^th centuries. The facade is uniquely decorated to a neo-gothic design of green, white and red marble which makes the building stand out from all other cathedrals I have been to, but the most prominent and distinguishing feature of this cathedral is the staggering huge dome. It is the largest brick dome ever built and as well as being immense and awe-inspiring on the outside, the fresco on the inside of the cupola is decorated with a 3,600 square meter (38,750 square feet) rendition of The Last Judgement with fantastic, provocative and terrifying images of The 24 Elders of Apoc, Choirs of Angels; Christ, Mary and Saints; Virtues, Gifts of the Holy Spirit and Beatitudes; and at the bottom of the cupola: Capital Sins and Hell. Standing in the Piazza del Duomo outside this great building it is still incredibly intimidating and dominating, but I can’t help wonder how it would have appeared to people that hadn’t grown up in a world where words like ‘skyscraper’ were in common use. Another highlight of my few days in Florence was seeing Michelangelo’s awesome David. It stands at the end of a hall of his unfinished sculptures and dominates the room. He is positioned in such a way that he seems to grow more than he should as you approach, and I easily spent twenty minutes in his presence!

We then went to spend a day and a night in Rome. There was obviously a lot that we wanted to fit into a relatively short period, so we had a packed itinerary. The first evening we checked into a great little hotel and the guy on the door was only too pleased to organise our site seeing for us. He had sent us on an evening excursion past the Piazza del Popolo, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain and a few other nice spots – stopping in between for drinks and food of course; and the following day we visited the Vatican City and the monuments and gardens around the Colosseum.

I had visited the Vatican City before, but I was still in awe of the size of St Peter’s Square as we waiting in line to enter the cathedral. Once inside and up the tower the view out over the square continued to emphasise the size and grandeur that the papal city inspires in all visiting devotees and tourists alike. Imagining giving a public address out over a sea of tiny people gathered in this encircling auditorium conjured up images of power and conquest that many zealots must have experienced time and again. The place was designed to create a feeling of majesty and wonder towards the chosen few that reside within, and that is exactly what it does. Indeed, it not only influences people, but even the weather systems which are marginally different in the Vatican City because of the anomalous bulk of St Peter’s Basilica, the elevation, the fountains and the size of the large paved square.

I was also keen to see the Sistine Chapel which I had missed on my previous trip, and so went to the Vatican Museum. I only wanted to pop in to the chapel, but in order to get to it I had to walk around the rest of the museum, being herded from one room to the next – down insanely long corridors, up and down flights of steps. In fact, you’re so disoriented by the end of the trek you’re actually pleased to get to the more open space of the souvenir shops! There are actually some really interesting things to see in the Vatican Museum though. Most of the rooms are decorated with massive frescoes or tapestries. One of the halls is lined with maps of European countries, states, and kingdoms as they were hundreds of years ago, with intricate patterned ceilings and gilded chandeliers and coving – but it all culminates in the Sistine Chapel; the one place that you aren’t allowed to photograph! And it really is stunning. The ceiling is majestic and as complex as you might expect, and The Last Judgement on the wall above the altar is truly magnificent. I don’t care whether Michelangelo liked it or not; I thought it was great! After the Sistine Chapel we headed to the Colosseum, and then out into the gardens and ruins opposite and wandered through the remains of the ancient houses of great Roman leaders, and the remaining pillars and mighty temples, arches and basilicas that made up parts of the old Roman Forum.

The next stop was further south in Naples. There were three reasons that this place was next on the list: it was somewhere I hadn’t been to, it was close to Pompeii, and if we wanted to make our flight out of Italy we needed to be at Naples’ airport!

I didn’t really know much about Naples, except that it was going to be a city with strong traditionally Italian roots, plenty of good food, and ties to the Mafia! I must confess that travelling on the graffiti-ridden subway, I couldn’t help imagine where all of the tough-looking, sour-faced, beefed up locals had acquired their scars, and was a little relieved when we arrived at our stop having not been mugged.

I had chosen a hostel close to one of the stations out of the centre of the city and close to the waterfront. After carrying our big bags around for several weeks, I was getting tired of it and thought the closest hostel would probably be the best choice at this stage in our trip. Unfortunately, although the hostel appeared very close on the map it didn’t account for the relative mountain that we had to climb before we got to the entrance! The hostel wasn’t exactly very pleasant either, especially after such a nice hotel in Rome or staying with our friends in Florence. We pulled the paper-thin mattresses off the bunk beds and tried to make something more closely resembling a real bed on the floor, and then showered and went out to find some decent Italian food.

As soon as we reached the first strip where food was being sold we were accosted by a variety of waiters and restaurateurs competing for our custom and also in some personal competition to see who could be the most bombastic and enthusiastic to see another hungry tourist. It was a struggle to fight past the first few, but eventually we had done a short circuit of the restaurants and decided where to get some dinner. It was a little family-run place with four generations of the family running around serving, cooking, hosting, or kicking a football about. The food was delicious and when we had finished we went exploring a little further. Being on the waterfront there were lots of cafes and cocktail bars by the sea, with tacky swing chairs and neon lights to lure in the would-be drunken passersby.

Naples seemed to be a place of variety and contradiction. There were beautiful little lanes filled with hanging baskets, families and neighbours socialising with one another, little trattorias, and stray dogs; and there was also the side of the city which was loud, dirty, and at times obnoxious. Fresh fish was being sold on the shores, straight from the small fishing trawlers, and the locals chattered and haggled over the prices of octopus, squids, lobsters and all manner of little fish. I loved the white-stone that was used on some of the buildings or around the ports, and a great almost glowing yellow/white castle built on a headland. Vesuvius could be seen in the distance, especially from the castle keep – and that was where we were heading next.

Pompeii is now split into two towns. The new town is quite large, but it is dwarfed in scale by the old now uncovered ruined city preserved from nearly 2000 years ago. It has slowly been excavated and uncovered since it’s rediscovery in 1748 and the amount of history and insight that can be absorbed just by setting foot in the streets is not something I know I will not be able to accurately convey with my completely inadequate words. What I will say though is that the place is like a giant museum; and not a hotchpotch collection of relocated relics like most galleries or museums are, but this was a look at how something was in its ancient environment on a scale that must surely be unmatched throughout the world. There are of course displayed collections of preserved pots, bowls, tools, cadavers, and everything you would expect to find in a once lively town, but the real pleasure was to simply walk through the houses, shops, and streets.

As you stroll from one of the town’s focal points to another, such as between temples, theatres, or villas, it is easy to get lost in the imagined bustle of an ancient roman city. The people wandering around beside you may be wearing modern clothes, carrying cameras and guide books, and talking in all manner of dialects – but it’s easy to forget that: You are in an ancient Italian city, with the bustle of dozens of people going about their daily business.

Even when you are in an unremarkable street you can stumble across real archaeological treasures in any hidden corner. Every single inhabitant of ancient Pompeii had a house with a garden, and even when these buildings were small you could imagine the feeling of status and worth that this gesture would give the populous. In the grander houses the gardens would have pools and pillared courtyards, and in the smaller ones there may be stone benches, patios, or maybe places where they would grow some vegetables and fruit. The walls in even the most humble house still often had glorious frescoes of landscapes, people, or fantastical scenes from a long-forgotten story. In the brothels the pictures on the walls and in the small stone chambers were just as detailed and artistic – though followed a theme very much of their own! Several of the streets were also adorned with crude graffiti, Roman slang, and political propaganda relating to the upcoming election that would have happened if the city hadn’t been buried under tonnes of ash.

There were lots of interesting buildings which gave an insight into the everyday life of the people that lived there; thermopoliums – pubs with marble-topped bars; bakeries with old stone mills, ovens and shelves for the recently baked goods; there are elegant villas, including one with controversial frescoes depicting a rite from the outlawed Special Cult of Dionysus; communal baths; an amphitheatre and forum. All with their own stories of mystery and history, and all overlooked by the monstrous hulk of Vesuvius.

I have pictures from Italy of course, so take a look!

We had arranged to meet up and stay with Iva for our first night in Zagreb, and after a few days in Prague to say goodbye to my family we were arriving in Croatia. It is a great feeling when you meet up with someone who you’ve only spent a few days with before but can tell they are as excited to see you as you are to see them. Iva took us to her home, and after a quick beer and a shower we were out and sightseeing with one of her friends. We saw the parks, and some of the lovely architecture. We went to a pub for lunch with some more friends, and then to a gallery with a very curious light exhibition, then on to do some more sightseeing. Some of the architecture and decorations were unlike any I had seen, like a kind of bric-a-brac roof tiling on the Church of St Mark, and a great carving on an inside wall of a church in an ancient European script, Glagolitic.

That night a group of us went up to a fort called Medvedgrad which was originally constructed in the 13^th Century and offers views over the city which were captivating even by night. We partied on until late in the night, and after a couple of hours sleep we were back on the road, and heading for Plitvice Lakes National Park.

We had a night staying in very small B&B in the area of the national park, and after a rather confusing and time consuming check-in process which involved several of the locals and a dog, we had our bags inside and were on our way to the lakes.

I have never seen so many waterfalls in my life as I did that day. We took an old shuttle bus to the top of the river system and then slowly meandered downhill following the rivers and waterfalls. The water was a beautiful blue from the calcium-rich limestone it had passed through, and clear enough to see many large carp and other fish swimming around most of the time. The leaves were turning to their autumnal tones of yellows and reds, and as they collected on the already brightly coloured blue or green lakes they added another dimension to the bright and bold scenery.

After seeing what must have been over 100 waterfalls, and not a single bear or boar, we made our way out of the national park and returned tired to our B&B with only a brief stop on the way back for a bottle of wine, something to eat, and a rest for our legs.

The next day was another early start though we still had to run to make our bus. We were heading to Zadar, on the Eastern side of Croatia and just across the water from Italy. The contrast with the other places we had visited in Croatia was striking. This seemed very much like a Mediterranean town rather than the Eastern European feel of Zagreb. The buildings were white-washed, the gardens were filled with citrus-fruit trees and olives, and the sun was hot. We enjoyed our first afternoon there, walking around the city, taking in the sights and sounds and of course the food – and planned our following day which was a trip out to the Kornati Islands.

The trip out to the islands was quite a long one, but luckily we had plenty of good company – and started the day with sljivovica and coffee. Before long we were swaying with the boat and the schnapps and enjoying the warm sunshine on the deck. There were a few very interesting people to talk to on the trip, including a travel writer and photographer for transitionsabroad.com, a website devoted to cultural immersion and living in obscure or remote locations. The scenery on the journey was stunning Mediterranean seas dotted with rugged-looking islands, most of which were completely unpopulated save for a few sea birds, lizards, and the occasional fisherman. We passed several other sail boats and yachts (including one with very excited topless dancing girls on the roof deck) but when we arrived at the island we were spending the afternoon on there were very few people there.

I immediately distanced myself from the crowd of other holiday makers and went walking around the big salt lake in the middle of the island, and soon felt like a lone explorer on this island paradise with just the company of the lizards, crickets, and wild donkeys. Halfway round the lake I encountered the far shore of the island which was strewn with thousands of stones and boulders piled in precarious cairns of tribute to the travellers that had passed throughout the years. It looked like a Petrified Forest stretching off into the distance. I added my own stone to one of the piles and continued round the lake. I hadn’t passed anyone else for some time and I couldn’t see anyone around so I decided it would be an appropriate time to strip off and give the water a try. Because of the high salt content I was more buoyant than usual, and bobbed around for a bit feeling refreshingly cool after the heat of the sun and the walk, before carrying on around the lake and arriving where I began an hour or so later.

The journey back was uneventful. I was tired after so many early mornings, my long walk, and too much wine and schnapps so after our dinner I dozed on the boat until we approached the port of Zadar again. The sunset here was amazing, silhouetting the boats, and reflecting light from the terracotta coloured buildings on to the water, and after we landed we made our way to a waterside bar to enjoy the last of the light on our last night in Croatia.

Have a look at my Croatian pictures!

I packed for Welsh weather. Most of you will realise that this meant that my bag was filled almost entirely with jumpers and jackets, scarves and umbrellas. But we were lucky enough to see unprecedented warm weather whilst we were there. In fact I even got sunburnt one day! The first place we stayed in was quite central with stunning views over Swansea Bay, and from here we explored the surrounding area – walking through the barks down to the bay, and along into town for some Gower cockles, Laverbread or Joe’s Ice cream.

The first few days were spent visiting Sian’s family, going to parties and nights at the pub, and seeing a little more of Swansea. After a couple of days we decided to go for a trip along the Gower Peninsula to see some of the small towns and countryside that was on offer. The Gower was the first area within the UK to be designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in 1956. We had only a vague plan, which involved getting to Oxwich and exploring that area, and then moving on to Rhossili before it got too dark.

Oxwich had a huge flat beach by the water and hills leading away over unspoilt countryside speckled with sheep, pheasants, and churches. The countryside was lovely, and ranged from marshland to rocky outcrops. Blackberries were growing by the side of the paths and were delicious, and we wandered for several hours past huge fields, woods, a huge stately home and its immense grounds and a castle at the top of the hill. We got lost, as is obligatory when wandering around the country, and arrived back where we started after several very pleasant hours of wandering.

The next place we were heading to was Rhossili. I had hoped to get there for the sunset which was supposedly spectacular over the tidal island of Worm’s Head, so called because of its resemblance to a sleeping dragon as described by invaders approaching from the sea. But owing to our bus driving getting lost, crashing, getting stuck on a narrow road – and of course our own topographagnosia – we arrived in Rhossili to admire the sunset from a distance. There was no way we were getting to Worm’s Head in time. So after we settled in to our shepherd’s hut we were staying in round the back of a farm, we wandered in to town for a drink.

Like most of the towns on The Gower there’s not much to Rhossili. We walked for about half an hour down the small main road in to town, went to the pub for a couple of drinks, and then headed home. The shepherd’s hut was a lovely little wooden caravan with a fold-down sofa/bed and a little fold-up table, and a small log burner in one corner to keep it warm on the cold nights. I made sure I was awake for sunrise at 5:30 and lit the stove to get the place above freezing again! It was beautiful weather during the day, but overnight it was freezing! We spent a day walking along the cliff top from our farm to the town, stopping for a picnic overlooking a rock-strewn valley for breakfast, and continuing on to explore the beaches and views for the rest of the day. We eventually arrived back in the town after a long day of hiking and settled down to a big meal and a lovely beer!

After another night in the shepherd’s hut we headed off a little later in the morning having feasted on fresh fruit, cereals, sandwiches, and yogurts delivered by the famer. We decided to walk over the tallest point on The Gower, The Beacon on Rhossili Downs. It took a couple of hours to make it up and through the various obstacles, around the wild horses and sheep, and up the side of the hill – and the view from the top, along with the fierce wind – was breathtaking. We stopped for a small snack half way down the other side, and then continued on to the town for another beer.

The few days we had in The Gower were a great chance to spend a little bit of time in British countryside before we left the country again, but I was very thankful we hadn’t had a last taste of British weather. The days had been lovely and warm, and although the nights were cold – the log burner and beer blanket had kept the worst of it at bay.

And now it was time to head overseas….

Have a look at my pictures from Wales

It was a busy first weekend. Moving in to a new house in a new city and living with new people. I probably should have spent more time studying but instead spent most of my time exploring the new pubs that were on offer! And what pubs! Edinburgh is one of the nicest places I have ever lived. It is a stunning city of history and culture. The castle sits reverently overlooking the city, with the ancient cobbled lanes leading away down through the Royal Mile to the 900-year old Holyrood Palace and out from the Old Town to the newer parts of Edinburgh of equal character and comparable history. I initially live in Morningside, a famously genteel area of Edinburgh a little way outside the busier city centre, but after a few months moved closer to the action. It was after moving to this new place that I found my favourite haunts. I was close to the Royal Botanical Gardens, many fantastic old pubs, and some amazing restaurants including Dionika – where I found great food, wine, and friendship with the owner and his other faithful regulars.

There are a few particularly worthwhile times to be in Edinburgh throughout the year. Christmas and the weeks leading up to it are a time when it is great to be up there, and at times even someone as jaded as myself can get into the Christmas spirit. Princes Street is lined with sparkling trees of fairy lights, the smells of mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, and cinnamon can be smelt wafting from the markets on the street. There are bright flashing fairground rides on the banks of the park, frequently a dusting of snow or frost on the lawns and bushes, and everyone rushing around in brightly coloured scarves, hats, and puffy war jackets. New Year can be a lot of fun as well. The party starts three or four days before New Year’s Eve and typically involves bands in the street, music in the bars, and lots of food and drink that culminates in a spectacular firework display set off from the castle (if there isn’t too much wind, rain, or snow.) The aftermath is generally considered to warrant a considerable period for recovery, and so Scotland has two public holidays after New Year’s Eve. One is rarely enough to get over a proper hangover!

My favourite time to be in Edinburgh however is over the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. The festival lasts just over four weeks these days, and has thousands of acts performing each year. I generally go for the comedy and some of the music, but the theatre, dance, and more unusual shows offer a bit of relief from the continuous laughter.

In August 2009 I went up to see my good friends Fatts and Amy who live just down the road from my old place there. It was a few weeks before I was going to be leaving the UK, and I wanted a last chance to catch up with my friends in Scotland and to go to the Festival. We saw so many performers in just over a week that my head was spinning. A few favourites put on excellent shows as always: Sean Hughes did a show largely about being old, and Richard Herring did one about his troubles with being taken seriously when he had decided to wear a ‘toothbrush’ moustache for three months and reclaim it, from Hitler, for comedy. I enjoyed Laura Solon’s character-based monologue Rabbit Faced Story Soup, and the Pajama Men’s character-based physical comedy. And the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre Goes to Hollywood was a great summary of the greatest moments in movies as performed by socks in kilts.

If you’ve not been to the Edinburgh Festival before – go now. Even if you don’t like socks you’ll find something to laugh at, I guarantee it.

Have a look at my Edinburgh photos.