Aitutaki

Our little twin propeller plane bumped as it dropped down through a thin layer of white whispy clouds, before flattening out again in the bright Pacific sunshine.

Below us the little island of Aitutaki was suddenly revealed in all its glory; a band of coral reef thrown wide around a few scattered peaks of tropical islands poking their heads from the bright waters of the turquoise lagoon. Everyone gasped as our little plane banked unexpectedly and we dropped a few hundred feet. Suddenly we seemed to be skimming across the lagoon itself, and then with a jolt we touched down on the runway. I think I left my fear of flying somewhere high above the South Pacific, because I loved every minute of that journey, and all I could think about was exploring this perfect little paradise over the next 5 days.

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Rarotonga felt like a big shift of pace for us after the smogfilled, gridlocked, skyrise madness of LA, but sleepy little Aitutaki makes Raro feel like a bustling metropolis. Everyone you pass has a smile and a wave, the top speed on the few roads across the island is equivalent to a brisk jog, and there's nothing more hazardous than falling coconuts or the occasional daredevil rooster that wants to play chicken with your scooter.

We spent our 5 nights on the island in what will almost certainly be the nicest accommodation of our entire trip; a beach hut facing the perfect lagoon. It even had a palm tree growing through its balcony! The perfect spot to live out any bizarre childhood Swiss Family Robinson fantasies that might have lingered into adulthood (with a bit more time I might have been able to train some monkey butlers...). Normally it would have been out of our price range, but we got a good internet deal months in advance and it ended up costing about £25 a night. They could have charged us three times that and I wouldn't have felt ripped off.

After a couple of days we decided to stretch the budget even further with a day trip across the lagoon. Left to ourselves we might not have spent the money, but everyone we spoke to told us we'd be missing out, and I'm really glad we took their advice.

We were picked up by softly spoken, immediately likable Captain Puna, and clambered aboard his battered yellow pickup truck. Two other couples (tourists on Aitutaki are overwhelmingly couples) were inside the truck's twincab, so we had to ride on the back. I couldn't have been happier - we had a bumpy, windswept ride to Puna's little pontoon while the others looked at us a little jealously from their more comfortable, more boring seats inside.

Once we were aboard it quickly became clear why a boat trip is the only way to fully appreciate Aitutaki. The waters stay fairly shallow throughout the lagoon, although the water is so clear that you can see the bottom even in 20 metres or so of depth. Puna picked his way effortlessly through the hidden maze of underwater coral islands that can easily tear through the hull of a carelessly piloted boat, and soon we were in about 8 metres of water above one of the protected reserve areas of the lagoon.

We could clearly make out the enormous stands of coral all around us as we peered over the deck and hurriedly got our snorkel gear on. The ripples of the waves broke up the outlines of what I first imagined to be chunky rocks dotted around the seabed, until Puna explained we were in a good area for giant clams. That was all I could take; a few seconds later I was over the side and splashing about in the stunning undersea landscape of the reef.

Giant clams! I have two vivid childhood memories of learning about these weird little beasties; seeing them in David Attenborough documentaries and reading the Willard Price novel South Sea Adventure, where a diver gets his flipper trapped in one as it slams shut. I swam down as close as I dared (well within snapping distance), but managed to survive unscathed.

The coral amongst the lagoon is like nothing I've ever seen. This is my first experience in tropical waters, and we found ourselves surrounded by huge 'forests' of coral standing tens of meters high, with dazzling clouds of colourful fish constantly weaving in and out of the multitude of sheltered nooks and crannies. It was like swimming in an enormous fish tank, but a more sublime fish tank than I ever could have imagined.

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After an hour or so of happy splashing about we climbed back aboard the boat, through a pulsing shoal of fish feeding on a tunafish tail that Puna had thrown in for them, and we jetted off for the second part of the trip.

We stopped at a few of the myriad little islands that pepper the lagoon; deserted honeymoon island, a beautiful, unnamed goldenwhite sandspit, circumnavigated the islands used on T4's Shipwrecked as Tiger and Shark islands, and then stopped for lunch on glorious little One Foot Island, where Puna cooked up an enormous spread of barbecue food that was worth the price of the trip on its own.

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Aside from the boat trip, the rest of the adventuring was left up to us. We hired a scooter and drove the circumference of the island, waving to the friendly locals and their playful kids, and scattering crowds of scuttling mudcrabs that bolted back to the safety of their burrows on the swampy, unpopulated area of island near the airstrip.

In no time at all we were watching the sun melt into the lagoon for one final spectacular sunset. We boarded our little plane again the next morning , and as we sat on the runway we caught a glimpse through the window of a pair of humpback whales blowing out breaths of salty spray just off the reef to our left. Our startled happy shouts weren't enough to keep the plane on the ground, and with a rush and a jolt we were launched back into that bright South Pacific sky, the stunning colours of the island shrinking away beneath us.

However long it takes, I know I'll have to go back there.

Rarotonga

Disappointingly, it was raining when we landed on the South Pacific paradise isle of Rarotonga, the capital of the Cook Islands. Yawning, we shuffled through the little arrivals lounge as an endearingly cheerful old man with flowers in his hair serenaded us with a ukelele, and soon enough we were through the tiny customs area (a world away from the US customs experience) and free at last to explore the island.

The little Raro Tours bus that ferried us from the airport was full of sleepy, happy tourists, and one wide awake, happy Cook Island driver called Willy, who gave us all an impromptu tour of the island as he dropped us off at our various hotels.

Unfortunately for us, our first 4 nights weren't going to be spent in any of the luxurious honeymooner retreats we'd just driven past; we were starting our stay on the island in a more budget-friendly guesthouse before moving upmarket later in our stay.



Rau's Guesthouse was basic, but set just back from what turned out to be our favourite beach on the island. It's other main benefit was the two resident dogs - Cheech & Chong - a pair of mainly Labrador mongrels that decided to follow us wherever we went; joining us for swims in the lagoon and then hogging our beach towels when we came back out.



There are dogs everywhere on Rarotonga, and most of them come over to say hello and follow you around for a bit. I've never experienced such universally friendly, unthreatening dogs anywhere else in the world - a nice surprise for the pair of us as we've both been missing pets back home.

We shared the guesthouse with the young Cook Island family that run it, and like all Cook Islanders they were friendly and hospitable. The two young boys, Kyle and Rafael, excitedly showed me their collection of ninja movies, mum Moka brought us fresh bread every day, and cute little baby Lillia gurgled and smiled at us at every opportunity.

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Our days were spent on white sandy beaches, or in the perfect waters of the lagoon as the rolling, white-tipped waves of the Pacific crashed like angry thunder against the reef.



The water is so clear that you can see fish swimming in the coral while you stand on the beach. When you strap on a snorkel mask and get in amongst it all it's just mindblowing; there are tropical fish everywhere - electric blue, hot pink and shocking yellow flashing bright in the warm azure waters of the lagoon. Some of them nibble your fingers or fearlessly try to scare you off their patch, while others dart off to hide, poking their heads out of the coral when they think you've gone.

There's nearly as much going on back on the beach, hermit crabs of all sizes, bums tucked securely into a variety of stolen shells, scurry about everywhere, happy to clamber over a foot or a leg until you reach down to pick them up and they realise you're a person not a palm tree.



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Tasha picked up a really nasty sore throat a few days into our stay - so bad that we had to go to Raro's nice little hospital that sits high up on a hill. Once again the people were friendly, and even though it wasn't a part of our plans we still got a great view of the sunset from the top of the hill! Poor Tasha lost her voice for a couple of days and was in a lot of pain, but the antibiotics the doctor gave her cleared everything up, and there are worse places than the South Pacific to spend a few days recuperating.

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When our time came to leave the island we did so with heavy hearts, but also with the knowledge that we'll have to come back as soon as possible.

At the airport we waited for our flight to get in from LA on its stopover before carrying on to New Zealand. There aren't many international airports in the world where you can sit in the open night air, rich with the scent of a hundred tropical flowers, and watch the sun rise over the mountains. When our boarding was announced and we walked towards the runway a mother hen scurried in front of us trailing her chicks. We'll miss this magical place.

Airlines

I had thought Air New Zealand was going to be the weak link in the trio of airlines on our around the world ticket. We've not had any of our Singapore Airlines flights yet, but the Air NZ red-eye from LA to Rarotonga was loads better than our Virgin Atlantic trip from Heathrow to San Francisco. More legroom, better food, better entertainment, better pillows; better everything. If it hadn't been for the screaming devilchild that ensured everyone's enforced insomnia it would have been a perfect flight. I was sure Virgin would win hands down... Nice one Air New Zealand!

Route 101: Our American Roadtrip

Public transport options from San Francisco to LA are basically non-existent. Back in the UK I was keen to take a train down the coast so we could pick up our flights from LAX, but there is no direct service, and the only alternatives involve changing stations and waiting for countless connections.

I looked into catching a Greyhound bus, but that seemed like a worse option than the train, with the journey taking about 12 hours before finally dropping you off at a dodgy terminal in Skid Row. The reports written by other travellers on sites like TripAdvisor made it sound like a fate worse than death.

That only left two options: yet another flight on top of our already monster total of 14 this trip, or renting a car and driving the 400 miles or so ourselves. Clearly, only one option afterall.

We picked up our trusty steed (a big, comfy, floaty-steering Hyundai Sonata) from the rental car centre at the airport, plugged in a wisely chosen optional sat-nav, and hit the freeway.

Route 101 started off as plain old 8 lane freeway as we left the outskirts of San Francisco, but the driving was smooth and easy, and before too long we found ourselves in the wide open spaces of California farm country. Every now and then your eye would chance upon a little group of migrant workers, or the occaisional tractor rumbling along a dirt track that veered off the freeway, but generally we found ourselves looking at a whole lot of nothing.

Eclectic radio stations set a strange soundtrack; Christian rock always swiftly replaced by whatever else we could find. For a few happy minutes I even found some guns and roses, but every station seemed to blur into static after few miles so we just kept on retuning.

Soon enough the terrain got a little more interesting, and it felt like we were driving onto the set of a Western; rugged hills, dry gulches, ranches everywhere and amazing made-up sounding place names like Crazy Horse Canyon Road and Coyote Lake.

I settled back and got into a comfortable rythmn with the driving; very nearly too comfortable... I came around a bend in the road about 10 mph over the speed limit, just as Tasha pointed out a Highway Patrol car sneakily hiding in the shade of some trees. Immediately he pulled out behind us, and I started getting all sweaty palmed and trying to put on my most innocent face. Luckily (for us at least) he pulled over the car that was just behind ours. I'm guessing that guy didn't have a trusty cop-spotter sat in his passenger seat. I eased off the gas a little as they shrank away in my rearview mirror, and we just kept on driving.

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When the Pacific suddenly appeared alongside us the rich blue of the ocean felt quite shocking after all those miles of dusty scrubland.

We made a pitstop at the fresh, salty seaside town of Pismo Beach, then pushed on again to beautiful Santa Barbara, where we had an impressive (but budget-straining) dinner, served by the best waiter either of us have ever seen.

Night fell as we made our way into the gridlocked madness of LA. The rental car return centre was in Inglewood, a place I only know from Tupac and NWA tracks, and we got there long after dark. We managed to make it out of there without anyone popping a cap in our asses though, so all's well that ends well...

5 Top Meals in California

As far as I'm concerned, one of the best parts of travelling is the excuse it gives you to try new and unusual foods. Most of the destinations on our trip are going to leave us walking a thin line between politely sampling local delicacies and ending up a couple of massive fatties.

The USA - with its supersized portions and endless choice of foods - was always going to fall squarely in the latter category; I've visibly expanded in the last 10 days.

These are my favourite snacks so far:

5. Burrito mojado - a gigantic 'wet' burrito, slathered in enchilada sauce, guacamole, salsa and sour cream. It nearly finished me off, but in the end I triumphed. Shortly afterwards I passed out, but that was completely unrelated and almost certainly down to the jetlag and not me being whoopassed by Mexican foodstuff...



4. Fresh tuna steak sandwich from the Ferry Building, San Francisco. Soooooo fresh, and cooked to perfection while we waited, tossed n soy sauce and ginger. Lush.

3. Vietnamese sandwich - Tasha's cousin Addy recommended a classic Vietnamese takeaway lunch, which consisted of fishcakes, salad and tasty dressing all served in a fresh bit of baguette. We ate it at Baker Beach with a stunning view of the Golden Gate bridge and the wild Pacific Ocean. Best lunch ever.

2. . Bubble tea. Neither of us had ever tried this before, and now I wonder what we were doing with our lives for all those wasted years. Basically a blended drink that doesn't have to contain tea and which can be hot or iced, but which in my opinion HAS to contain tapioca pearls, which sit at the bottom like sweet little pieces of treasure waiting for you to suck them satisfyingly up your straw in every gulpful of drink. This might well become my favourite drink of all time. I love boba!



1. Sushi. Hands down, the sushi here has been the freshest, tastiest, and cheapest that I've ever had. It's probably my favourite food in the world, and we've pretty much eaten it at least once a day.
The best of the best came from Nagayiro in Berkeley; so good we had it for lunch and dinner! It'll be interesting to see how it compares to the stuff we'll be having in Japan.

San Francisco - first impressions

I've never visited the States before, so San Francisco was my first opportunity to see what life is really like in the USA.

One part of growing up in the UK that must be the same for kids all over the world is that I've had a steady diet American culture through movies and tv for as long as I can remember. The majority of this, due to the nature of the entertainment industry, has more specifically been Californian culture, which makes this place seem like some kind of strange home from home.

As we made the short drive from the airport to Addy's house everything around us seemed familiar and alien at the same time. Big yellow school buses, over-sized cars, 6 wheel pickup trucks and shiny big-rigs, drive-throughs, freeways, brands and business names familiar from a thousand films and now suddenly here in real life. The overwhelming feeling is that you've somehow walked on the set of a movie.

One surprise was on the streets all around us, where people were the opposite of the obese, shuffling fast food fetishists that lazy stereotyping had lead me to expect. But then again, this is California - America's heartland for health freaks, organic eating and clean living.

San Francisco itself is beautiful. As soon as we arrived I started daydreaming about moving here sometime in the future. It's one of those cities where every sidestreet seems to have something new and interesting going on, and the different neighbourhoods all seem so different, but at the same they all have an undefinable San Francisconess to them. Or San Franciscocity. Or something.

The diversity of the city's population is reflected in the awesome selection of food choices available to you here. Food is really important to both of us, and we've been really spoilt by the quality of everything here - sushi, Vietnamese, Californian Cuisine; it's all amazing! Tasha's managed to keep me on the straight and narrow in terms of avoiding unnecessary fast food, but I did manage to sneak in a truly mammoth burrito. I fell asleep almost immediately afterwards though - think my body went into shutdown in an attempt to avoid any further calorie intake.

London to San Francisco - part 2

We had a night in London before our flight the next morning, and spent it catching up with a couple of Tasha's friends over drinks and some outrageously good Vietnamese food. We'd very sensibly planned to get an early night, but somehow didn't get to sleep until a bit after 2am, which made waking up at 7am a bit of an ordeal.

And so began a long day of travelling...
We caught a couple of trains across the city to Heathrow, checked into our Virgin Atlantic flight - where the lady on the check-in desk was satisfyingly impressed as the details of our travel itinerary flashed up on her screen - and eventually boarded our plane, which turned out to be one of the swanky double-decker ones with a funky bar in it and everything. I was so impressed that I was pretty much able to ignore my usual fear of flying for about 98% of the flight, which bodes well for the rest of the trip as we've got about 14 flights to take in total.

11 hours, 3 movies, a gin and tonic, and about a gallon of mineral water later, we touched down in the USA.

US customs took ages to pass through, but we managed to avoid any cavity searches, and before we knew it we were through the arrivals lounge getting picked up by Tasha's cousin Addy.

We were sweaty and exhausted, but still more than ready for some great Japanese food with Addy, her flatmate Ryuta and their friend Jessica, followed up by a truly spectacular view of the city, the Golden Gate and Bay bridges, Alcatraz, Oakland and the most of the Bay Area from the top of Twin Peaks, high above town.

The moon was full, the sky was clear, and there wasn't a trace of 'Frisco's famous fog. It was breathtaking, and a little surreal for our frazzled brains to take in, but an incredible introduction to a city I've always wanted to visit.

London to San Francisco - part 1

We had 5 minutes to catch our train to London, and the fact that we were 6 minutes from the station and stuck behind a tractor hadn't gone entirely unnoticed in the car. There was what you could describe as a bit of an atmosphere; a subtle whiff of tension in the air...

"Aaaargh! Mum - we're not gonna make it! This sucks! I HATE stupid tractors! Gah... What's the point?" I whimpered manfully.

"It's not like it's the end of the world honey - we can just catch the next train to London. They run every half an hour; it's not a big deal..."

My quiet sobbing drowned out Tasha's reassurances.

Mum stayed silent, a steely glint in her eye. The tractor turned off. Mum floored it.

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We drew up at the station at the same time as the train and put our hastily devised plan into action. Tasha dived out of the car and started sprinting towards the self-service ticket machine, whilst Mum raced the car to the London-bound platform and the train let out a whistle to announce its arrival. I leapt out, grabbing all of our bags, and ran to an open carriage door.

Meanwhile, on the opposite platform, Tasha was stuck behind a slow old lady who couldn't figure out the ticket machine. I pleaded with the guard to hold the train for us, my mum shrieked across the tracks for Tasha to hurry up, and a train full of people trying to get to London quietly gave all three of us evil looks out of the windows.

And so it was that our six month, once in a lifetime around the world trip got underway. Exhausted, sweaty and stressed before we even left Totnes, we blew kisses to my mum out the window and collapsed into our seats.

We were finally off.