Romantic Saba

Again I woke to momentary confusion as my alarm sounded and I quickly realised, oh that's right, I slept at E's mansion and I somehow snagged her bed. Meanwhile... where was she??

I staggered out to the lounge room, a vague recollection that she'd promised me to take me home (and possibly to the marina) in time for my Saba ferry. And as much as it pained me (and her), I woke her up. "Hey........... I gotta go now........ you awake....???" I'm so mean.

And so it was we were half alive. Stopped off at my house to change clothes, grab my pre-prepared lunch and jump back in the car to the marina. Stopped at Cappuccino, the place that never closes, and got a coffee for E and a fresh juice for me. Oh, I sound healthy, but I just don't like coffee.

La was busy calling me when I was at the cafe, my phone in the car, and when I finally got back she was on her 3rd try, anxious that I wasn't coming anymore. Here I was thinking she wouldn't come! So we checked in and waited for the ferry. Had to present our passports even though it's another Netherlands territory (albeit a municipality), and my passport earnt another stamp. Keep 'em comin'!

On board, they told us we had a choice of drinks including beer so I thought, well why not keep a good thing going... and ordered a beer. So it was a little harder to finish than I thought, due to the pounding waves on the high speed ferry, and I did my best to finish it but just had to lie down and calm my head. Came so close to spewing but managed to hold myself together - wish I could say the same for La, poor girl was headfirst in a bag when I opened my eyes, trying to dab the surrounding area of any bits of vomit that sprayed out. Gross, but I do feel for her.

We landed at Saba, a formidable rock of an island with no beaches and actually an inactive volcano, although as I was to find out, incredibly sweet and romantic. A quick immigration check left another stamp on my passport and led us to a waiting taxi/minibus same as St Maarten, with a several-generations local that had a microphone set up so he could tell us about the island as we drove through.

It wasn't cheesy though, and quite a good idea, I was thankful at least he was driving us through as it was raining when we stepped off the boat and I for one had NOT anticipated wet weather gear when half-drunkenly packed my bag for the trip. It was insane, though, that the people in the taxi told me it was twice as rough getting to St Barths the day before. Are you friggin kidding?? Vomit town, population me.

The driver took us to all 4 villages of the island, as well as the airport which was basically an airstrip about 200m long, ending each side on a cliff edge. Yep, definitely one of the most dangerous airports in the world. Along with St Maarten (where I live) and St Barths (next door). At the end, near some walking trails, he dropped us off - "us" being La and I, plus a Swede and an American off the yachts in SXM staying for a few nights - quoting us the odd amount of $31. Hard to divide between 4, but we made it work. Sabans are weird.

We were meant to go hiking down to Windwardside, the most touristy village, but instead we thought to go down to The Bottom (literally the village at the bottom of the hill), so we could experience the beautiful, misty rainforest of the island without going too high and getting to muddy. I'm glad I bought my sneakers, though!

As it was, certain pains kept reminding me I was a woman, and the hike I guess turned out to be a good distraction. Then I thought food would work, so we found one of few places open on a Sunday in Saba, a cute little cafe, and ordered some lunch. Turned out to be quite sub-standard food but I ate it anyway, hungry all the same. Instead, I tried to focus on the quaint little cottages and romantic air of the island. In honesty, all I could think of was living here with A and somehow making a life for us, even just for a little while. Living amongst the trees, in a sweet little cottage...

Afterwards, we thought it best to stay downtown rather than try to climb the mega-steep hills back to Windwardside, and headed towards Well's Bay. We stopped a police car to ask for directions and upon hearing it was too far to get back by the ferry departure, we just opted for the pretty gazebo at the top of the hill. We sat and chatted for a short while, noting the lack of cars on The Road (it's so easy to walk in the middle of The Road - the name of the main road - here and forget there are cars as well), and then headed back to the ferry.

Halfway down the steep hill to the ferry a truck stopped to let us in, basically just stopping and waving us in before keeping on going. Mmm, what a lovely aroma of fish that afforded us. And yet another stain on my white top as I climbed down the big wheel. It was entertaining to see all the goats running around the island, too. I wonder if they know just how awesome their home is.

Back at Pelican Marina, I walked La to her bus stop and opted to walk home. Except that soon enuf one of the cabbies that often comes to Seaside to drop off tourists offered me a lift (had to beep a while to get my attention) and I was home before I knew it. Then it was off to Pineapple Pete's to get the internet. And stop by the tattoo artist I met the other day. Is it worth doing something? Do I have time? Moreso, do I have the money? These questions plagued me.

So I had a non-alcoholic cocktail (after the havoc that boat ride played me today), spoke to A who is getting increasingly excited about my arrival, and headed home. No St Barths tomorrow, unfortunately, as I had been called in to replace a sick workmate and now if I wanna go to the ultra-expensive island I do it solo. Great!!

Hurricane Erm hits St Maarten

I tossed n turned into the morning, such was my excitement about the oncoming change in weather. Erm, one of my best friends from high school, was due to arrive at lunchtime for 12 days of fun and frivolity, including New Years Eve and a trip to St Thomas. I was bursting at the seams.

I went to Seaside in the morning to check the plane's status (on time) and try to organise a hire car. I had asked days in advance but things working on Caribbean time, I found I was still searching on the day and to no avail... busy season was well n truly in swing n no cars were available til January. Of the cheap friend of a friend variety anyway.

Thankfully, at Seaside I saw N and she offered her car to pick up Erm from the airport. So I went, with her 10-year-old daughter in tow, to do my errands (including sending off my travel insurance for my camera and cashing my pay cheque - woot!!) then collect the tired little friend from her 38-hour journey. Took a while for her to get out of the airport, kept thinking they'd lost her luggage, but eventually she was there. I held up a sign saying "Erm" and all these people kept screwing their eyes up to read it in case it was their resort. Sorry, all rooms are full at this inn.

First stop - home. Shower. Change. Beach. We exchanged Christmas presents - me getting a cute horsey ring, friendship band and pretty hippy skirt, her getting a bottle of local guava berry alcohol. Got ourselves ready and took the car back to Seaside, then off to Mullet Bay, the beach with the best name in the entire world. More likely to see a pair of tits than a bad haircut there, though.

Stopped by Top Carrot for some veggie food, and said hi to L who was around the corner, then caught the bus. We were the only people on the bus there, and our driver stopped to get a drink. I asked if we could drink beer on the bus then, and he misunderstood and said he'd buy us a beer. So we got free beer, saving ours for the beach!

One thing I really noticed when E arrived was how worried she was about things I now just take it the norm. Like drinking a beer walking the streets or smoking in a restaurant... she kept asking if it was OK, where she should stand, if we'll get in trouble... reminded me how over-regulated Australia is.

Didn't have a lot of time at Mullet as the afternoon was wearing thin, and it also poured with rain for 10 minutes, enuf to clear the beach. After it stopped, we walked to Maho to see the planes come in. Got some cool photos, had some beers, met some people dog-sitting a gorgeous young Doberman, got swept along the beach by the plane engine walking to Sunset Bar, where we procured a drink from some guys and I got E to try guava berry on ice. It's an interesting taste...

Heard La Bamba was the place to be that night, as it was Tuesday Salsa, but we were dressed for the beach so we went home to change. L met us for La Bamba and then we met Le on the road, who came along too for a couple of drinks before work. Stopped at the schwarma place to give E a try.

E looked stunning in a new summer dress so of course it didn't take long to get noticed at La Bamba. I hung back and spoke with the guys while she made friends. It was a fun night but I was tired and had to work the next day so I left her to her own devices, with her new friends, and walked home with L who would have rathered stay and chase E but realised he was not going to be her first choice that night. Kinda erked me the way he was, and reminded me that he is indeed just another guy. And nowhere NEAR my guy. He da BOMB.

Enter Foz do Iguacu

The thing I hate most about traveling - and traveling alone, at that - is getting to airports. Besides the fact my backpack is ridiculously heavy, I always have the worst fears that I will miss my flight and waste all that money, as well as having to find another way to get wherever I was going. But not to fear... this time, I gave myself extra time and got there right on time. Not without waiting for a bus that never arrived and having to get a short cab ride to another airport to get a bus to my airport... don´t even ask. Bloody Rio transport.

So we are on the plane. Australian boys to my left, what I thought was a European boy on my right proved to be a tanned Englishman (quite cute, too). I got talking to them all at one point and ended up sharing a cab to town when we got in with some others... it being about 2am n all. Gotta love cheap flights. Did I mention that I was flying instead of the bus because I randomly found a ticket on sale the night before I left? Yeah. Super sweet.

So I am now in Foz do Iguacu... for those that don´t know, it is a well-known (well, to everyone besides me until 48 hours earlier) place with some amazing waterfalls - some say they pale in comparison to Niagara Falls (but that was probably a Brazilian saying that) - but I knew next to nothing about them so my expectations were not high.

The cab ride in was unsurprising... the town is not big, centred around these falls it kinda feels like east coast regional Australia in between the big towns. Or some kind of outback Casino oasis. Either way, not much to do besides the falls here methinks.

I got to my hostel, realising on the way I had booked it for the wrong night, but thankfully the lady at reception was super nice and sorted me a room anyway. Met some nice girls (Aussie and English) who were on my flight and in my room, and made loose plans with aforementioned English boy to go fall-ing the next day. I was BUGGERED but still had trouble sleeping at first... heart still beating a little irregularly from the previous night´s efforts...

My Spanish airport mission

The Airport Mission

I should expand a little on my experience at Madrid airport, because I find it quite funny and it is a perfect example of being in Spain.

So after I was interviewed in Porto airport by Timeout Porto (random) I jumped onto my (late) flight to Madrid and when I get there, I see two signs pointing opposite directions to baggage claim. I choose right. Walking almost 10 minutes with my somewhat heavy hand luggage (I had to take some weight off my backpack for it to be checked in), I come out to a cafeteria area. No baggage.

Scratching my head, I turn back and finally figure that it's downstairs. Baggage claim. Empty. Had it been windy down there I would've seen a hay bail. I try to explain to the lone staffer down there I'd just come from Porto and needed my baggage. He points to follow these other guys out and says '1' - I realise I've walked almost to Terminal 3 and it's back at Terminal 1. Where is the signage?? For fuck's sake.

I walk back to T1 and when I get there, I see everyone from my flight coming out from arrivals - the guy downstairs had sent me to collect my friend from a flight and I was stuck outside, with my luggage inside. Great. The lost & found lady says I need to knock on the door next to arrivals but I get no answer. Luckily, being useless in one area usually means you're useless in others, so I was able to walk back into arrivals undetected by security (because there was none) to get my bags from the carousel. The same guys followed me and got their bags too - phew, at least I wasn't the only one!!

THEN... just when I thought my nightmare was over... Wizz Air, the delightful cheap airline that it is, couldn't actually start the plane and got us all the disembark while they ran around flailing their arms and we walked I swear the entire length of the airport (3x) before being told to go back to the gate and re-board. I've never been told 'welcome back' on a plane before!

Anyway, long story short (well, it's still long but hey youj're still reading) I finally got to Budapest just before 3am. The poor Couchsurfer I had organised a bed with had to get up to let me in about 4 in, but after he kinda woke up, we had a not normal cigarette, he opened a bottle of champers, we tucked into that and then retired... kinda................. Needless to say, I'm still quite tired today.