Tower of London innit

London calling

Arrived in London early this morning. Despite a lack of sleep, food-hangovers from mega-Irish Christmas and a complete transport disaster with striking tube drivers we managed a great day here. Toured through St Paul's cathedral and looked out over the city. I played with Tilt-Shift on my camera, while Charlotte waited patiently.

It's been great to have a few pints and time-out with the excellent array of Kiwi-Londoners we know.

Merrion Sq houses

Space shuttle update

Totally unrelated to Ireland, but this is an awesome photo (not taken by me) of the shuttle we saw at Kennedy Space centre. It's the only photo like this - usually there is only one orbiter in space, so no one to take a photo.

Photo update

Statue of revolutionary heroine Countess  Constance Markievicz in St. Stephen's Green, where she commanded Irish Citizen Army troops in the Easter Rising of 1916.

Bridge between Dublinia (Viking museum) and Christchurch Cathedral

Original Dublin City wall, from 1240AD. Graffiti added circa 2005.

Government buildings, and the office of the Taoiseach ("Tee-shock") aka the Prime Minister.

The Four Courts building, from across the Liffey.

Gateway to the museum of modern art.

Tis the season to be Jolly!

Enjoying a wonderful visit from Jolly and partaking of the treats at The Queen of Tarts.

The Dubliners

So we haven't been so good about blogging on Dublin... It's been busy. Mark's started at work, of course, and the first wee while for me was spent treading the streets of Dublin trying to find a place to live. It was a good way to get to know the city actually, where you'd want to live, where you wouldn't, where the grocery stores are etc. We eventually found a really beautiful apartment which was ready to move into on the day our short-term apartment had to be vacated. Win win.

So, now we are all set up (apart from the broadband... which may take up to 25 working days...!) in our lovely inner-city apartment. We have the entire second floor of a Georgian apartment building, with spare room. Guests welcome. Although we are booked up for the next couple of weeks.

In between the flathunting, establishment of personal infrastructure (which mostly involves endless tussles with Vodafone) and the all-important search for a Capitol in our new capital, we have managed to see a bit of Dublin. We're trying to keep some of the really good stuff for later, when we have visitors (Trinity College, Guinness Storehouse). One major touristic highlight (although it's not really a tourist attraction, more of a local Dublin kiddies' attraction) is the Natural History Museum, known in local parlance as The Dead Zoo. It's a museum of a museum, if you can imagine that. Basically, imagine what an exotic animal museum would have looked like in the 1800s - thousands of stuffed and mounted animals, complete with little plaques telling you who shot it and where. Then imagine what it would look like if it were in Harry Potter. A massive, massive room, just filled with taxidermied animals (not very PC, but these animals were victims of the last century and surely it's worse for them to have died in vain?). It's actually four levels tall - with mounted animal heads the whole way up - kind of like what the Otago Museum Animal Attic looked like when I was little, before they modernised it, except it's about fifty times bigger. It sounds awful, but it is truly one of the most incredible rooms I have ever walked into - and they have both an aye-aye and a mouse lemur. I wish that I was still four years old, because I can only imagine how much greater the effect would be if you were three feet tall and looking up at it. There was a gaggle of tiny boy scouts marching around when we were there - I looked at what one of them was writing on his work-sheet. It said 'It is really really cool.' I concurred. And even better, it's free entry and about one minute's walk from our house.

We also visited the Taioseach's (Prime Minister's) office and Cabinet room. A really great (also free) tour of the government buildings (see below), where you actually get to go into Enda Kenny's actual office. I was concerned about the stress for poor Enda Kenny having to tidy away all of his papers every Friday before public tours on a Saturday, but the Irish government is apparently an award winner for being an e-government... yup, pretty much paperless. I had some concerns about security, but was assured by our tour guide that it is all very safe. It was an excellent tour - we're very impressed by Irish tour guides. It seems to us that every tour guide must be an actual historian, they give great detailed, historical fact-packed tours (just the way we like them) and they seem to be able to respond to pretty much everything you ask them. For example, after an absolutely brilliant tour around Dublin Castle from Daragh, our very able tour guide, I cornered him to ask him about women's rights in Ireland during the War of Independence and the establishment of the Republic afterwards. He was off and away - he pretty much wrote me a thesis right there and then. You get the feeling the tour guides live for those left-field questions so they can really flex their history muscles. 

Peter, our tour guide at Kilmainham Jail, was no different. Kilmainham Jail, along with the Dead Zoo, has probably been one of our two touristic highlights so far. Kilmainhaim Jail was built in the 1860s and operated through until 1910, and then was used off and on during the 1910s and early 1920s to house, and execute, Republican activists. Pretty much all of the big names in the struggle for Irish independence have found themselves here, including Patrick Pearse, Robert Emmet and (my personal favourite) the kick-ass Countess Markiewicz. Sadly, most of them were also executed here. Many Irish people, including children as young as 5, found themselves here during the Great Famine of 1845-1850, as poverty drove people to petty crime just to try and survive. It's a pretty dreary and cold place, but the 'New Wing', added in the 1890s (I think), is strangely pretty. It has a massive glass roof (so the prisoners could look to God to put them on a path away from their criminal ways) and iron cage work everywhere - a huge open space with cells on the sides so that prisoners could be easily viewed. It's been well preserved and is pretty much exactly as most prisons of the era would have looked, and as a result has been used in many movies, including the original Italian Job as well as In The Name of The Father. 

Also worthy of an honourable mention is Dublinia - the Museum of Dublin's Viking and Medieval history. You get to try on a chainmail hat.

Of course, sightseeing isn't just about tourist spots when you're trying to set up a new life in a place you've never been before. Much of my time is spent hunting out the best supermarket for good deals (Dunnes on Henry Street), the best place to buy those little things you need for a new house, like teatowels (Penney's, also on Henry Street), finding the local movie theatre and trying to find a good coffee (that is probably a whole post all on its own).

It has started getting dark early now - on Sunday evening we were wandering home at 4:30pm. It was already dark, but the weather has been fairly mild. A warm jacket and a scarf and you're fine. The Christmas lights are up, and in the middle of town, with the wee windy streets and pretty old-fashioned frontages, it's  a really beautiful walk. We may feel differently when the temperature plummets and the, as yet, absent Irish rain starts up.

George

Around 200 years ago a chap called George really made his mark on Dublin. He must have been a builder or something, cos a bunch of the houses are "Georgian."

The most distinguishing feature of George's style is the doorways - each is quite unique. This is our one.

The View

Things you don't see at home

Taken at the bus depot next to our apartment.

I guess for when bus drivers find themselves in times of trouble.

The Magic Kingdom(s)

Up and at 'em, on the resort bus to the Magic Kingdom at 7am. This involved getting up at 6am for an energy-packed breakfast so we could attack the parks with a clear focus and military precision. Our trip to Disneyland LA last year was a great success due to our strategic approach to the day, and efficient use of fast passes and power naps. We were hoping to repeat this success this year. We'd bought a Park Hopper multiple park pass, as we wanted to get into the Magic Kingdom and Animal Kingdom (a fabulous animal-centric park, including some zoo action). The Animal Kingdom was the main attraction for us, but it was only open from 9 til 5, whereas the Magic Kingdom had 'Magic Hours' (official title, I didn't make that up) from 8am until 7pm. We hit the Magic Kingdom for an hour then left to take the Disney 'public' transport to the Animal Kingdom. 

It turned out the Animal Kingdom was kind of the place to be. For everyone. Thousands and thousands of them. Mostly small screaming children. But it was really, really awesome. The park is split into continents mostly (as well as Dinoland) and does its usual Disney-cute interpretation of Asia, Africa etc. While it is a very sanitised and commercial interpretation, like any day at Disneyland, you can't help but be charmed by it and it's so well done. We capitalised well on our fast passes and did all major rides, some twice. The best rides were probably Expedition Everest (not just because of the odd picture of Sir Edmund Hilary around the place getting me all patriotic) and the new Dinosaur ride (since we do love dinosaurs so much). 

We also loved the Safari trip, which is kind of like the Jungle ride at Disneyland, except the animals are real, and really beautiful - elephants, lions, cheetahs, rhinos, crocodiles, hippos, gazelles, giraffes, ummmm and heaps and heaps more. The zoo areas were set up to be un-zoo-like... obviously the fiction for the kids is that you really are in Asia/Africa/Dinoland. So, for example, the Tiger enclosure is rambling and massive and set up to make it look as if the tigers have taken over an old hunting lodge and you're in their space. 

The animal highlight was probably the gorillas - I've never seen gorillas live before. Their enclosure was really big, and there were two pretty much spooning right next to the glass. They weren't fully grown yet, still bigger than humans but not too much and so unbelievably human-like. They were all cuddled up and sleeping and every now and then an insect would land on one's face and it would swat it away in exactly the same way we would. We were super impressed with these two and the ones romping around them - incredible muscle and strength. Then we saw the Silverback. It was like seeing an unbelievably hairy, grey Incredible Hulk. He was HUGE. HUGE. And really really chilled out. Just wandering around the enclosure like he'd lost his glasses or something. 

The only slight downer was the Kali River Rapids ride. We were kind of chilled about it as it looked exactly like the California River Rapids we'd done at LA Disney last year. You get a bit wet, but the ride is quite long and well worth it. Well, Kali river rapids was not. The ride seemed a whole heap shorter than its mate in LA - and what was worse is that one person on the ride got drenched. Absolutely drenched. More drenched than you'd get standing in the shower. And of course that one person was me. It took me hours to dry out. I went into the bathroom and took off my skirt (a nice heavy absorbent cotton) and ringed it into the toilet and half a bucket's worth of water came out. Not happy. I wouldn't have cared if the ride had been awesome, but it was not. I felt like a small child who'd wet its pants, as mine took about five hours to dry. Unfortunately, later back at Splash Mountain the same thing happened to Mark, but of course he's got much more good grace than I do.

Anyway, after we'd bled the Animal Kingdom dry, we headed back to the Magic Kingdom to do the favourites - Pirates of the Caribbean, It's a Small World, Big Thunder Railroad, Splash Mountain, the Jungle Cruise (my favourite) as well as the American Presidents presentation ('now with President Obama!'), which I'd never done before. It was actually really lovely - kind of like an animated Madame Tussaud's of robot US Presidents - Abe Lincoln does the Gettysburg address and George Washington does a wee monologue. The nicest bit is at the end where all of them are on stage, and each has their name announced and acknowledges the crowd - they all move to look at the President being announced, some nod their heads or acknowledge others in some way. It's really well done. Then Obama speaks and everyone listens politely. 

Come 7pm, the Magic Kingdom was changing the guard - all normal pass holders had to get out for Mickey's Halloween party that was taking over the park for the night. People in fancy dress were everywhere - mostly adults, and most dressed as pirates. We got on the Big Thunder Railroad with Mr and Mrs Incredible and their Incredible kids. There was a disturbing number of really flammable looking little princesses - courtesy of the Bibbedy Bobbidy Boutique at Disneyland where, for a fee, your child (I only saw daughters do it though) can be princessified and then pose, rather like Jon-Benet Ramsey, for a photoshoot in front of the Disney Castle. The Pirates League offers piratification as an alternative. That looked much more fun. 

We headed to Disney's Hollywood Studios park, which had Magic Hours until 9pm. We managed to do the Star Tours ride (Star Wars 3D runaway space shuttle trip - good fun) and then Aerosmith's Rockin' Roller Coaster - which Mark was very excited about as it is the only proper rollercoaster at the park and actually goes upside down. We queued for about fifty minutes, did the ride just before 9 and then got the bus back to our hotel room, in time to pack, sleep and wake up bright and early to face the end of our holiday and the beginning of the Dublin Chapter.

Space Monkey

By the time we left the Kennedy Space Center we had been bombarded with literally hundreds of acronyms. I managed to screw up the first one, by asking for two tickets to KFC.

The Kennedy Space Center is home to most of the important NASA stuff with the exception of Mission Control which for political reasons is located in Houston at Lyndon B Johnson (aka Kennedy's Texan Vice President) Space Center. Cape Canaveral is apparently a really sweet place to blast rockets into space because it's unpopulated, flat and right next to the ocean meaning that there's plenty of options for aborted landings.

The US ended its shuttle program earlier in the year and a bunch of NASA types are being laid off (and contracted back at higher rates of course... remember this is the public sector), but there was still plenty to see. A bus tour took us around all the important sites, starting with a view of the Cape Canaveral Air Force Base (not part of NASA, but where all the Gemini and Mercury missions departed from).

The highlight of the tour was a trip to the Vehicle Assembly Building (above) where the shuttles were prepared for launch by dangling them from the ceiling and strapping them to big cans of fuel. The building is deceptively large - currently it's the largest single story building in the world, and when it was built was the largest building by volume in the world. For perspective, the blue area on the flag is the size of a basketball court and the stripes are each the width of a road lane. Basically, it's huge. Tours have only just started going to the building this month, our visit was part of a "soft launch" (pun probably intended) of the new route. Inside we were shepherded around by security guards to see a real live space shuttle - Endeavour.

The shuttles are being prepared for their next launch, which will see them strapped to the top of a 747. Destination: museums in LA and Washington DC. In the good old days, they would have left under their  own steam from the pad below. Again, it looks little and far away, but this thing was massive. The tower on the right was filled with water which was dumped onto the pad seconds prior to take off to dampen the sound. Nearby we saw alligators, turtles, and a manatee cruising about the swamp.

The last stop on the tour was the Saturn V rocket exhibition - a spare Apollo era rocket which is huge and impressive, but we had already seen its twin in Houston last year. Back to the visitor centre and around the various memorabilia exhibits - space suits, boots, bits of moon, launch control, etc.

And finally, a personal tour of the "rocket garden" from a very enthusiastic and knowledgeable chap who told us about the various instances of reckless disregard for safety that eventually led to Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. The best story involved the red tipped rocked in the distance below, sent into space with a chimp called Ham aboard. The mission was a success with Ham pressing a couple of levers before splashing down into the ocean to be rescued by boat later that day. Unfortunately, the system used to reward and punish Ham for good or bad behaviour malfunctioned and he received numerous electric shocks to his feet for doing nothing. Our guide explained that the capsule was about to sink when it was finally picked up and happily declared that "we saved his life". Yeah... that's exactly what you did.

We finished the day with a short drive to Disneyworld near Orlando. We stayed in a Disney hotel, right  in the thick of it, and spent the evening at Disney's version of an Irish pub, preparing our game plan for the next day.

Oh the huge manatee!

We meandered our way up the Keys, starting with a search for Key Deer on the lower keys. Key Deer are tiny, greyhound-sized deer that are found only on the Florida Keys. They are cute, curious and endangered. The numbers of Key Deer left are disputed, it's somewhere between 1,000 and 2,500. Which is very low, when you consider over 100 are killed every year as a result of collisions with cars, but is a hell of a lot better than in the 1950s when the numbers sank to below 100. We spent about an hour driving (really, really) slowly around the Keys' backstreets (which is any street other than the highway) searching for Key Deer - we saw four, as well as an alligator, and lots of lizards.

We stopped for lunch at a road-side diner, staffed by grandma-aged ladies who knew how to make a burger, they called us honey and kept the root beer coming.

Continuing up the Keys, we stopped at the Theatre of the Sea, for the moment I'd been waiting for - swimming with dolphins. After a half hour black-board type session on what to do and what not to do when interacting with dolphins, they let us in the lagoon with the dolphins. Mark and I were in a group with a wee local girl, so there were two dolphins, Kona and Sherry, and three humans. We got to spend about 45 minutes with them in the water. It was fabulous - they followed us around the pool swimming, we dived, the followed us, we went around a corner they followed us gently bumping against us and squeaking at each other under the water. The highlight was probably the dorsal tow, where two of them pulled me across the pool by their dorsal fins.

We finished the night at the rustic marina bar at our hotel, looking out over the boats. The next day was a bit of unfortunate write-off. We went to the John Pennekamp State Park - one of very few parks which are located mostly underwater. There is a protected coral reef which is home for swathes of sealife, as well as the wider park which is home to many other animals including alligators and crocodiles. Unfortunately, the boat trip out to the reef provided seasickness pills. As most of you know, I get really bad motion-sickness. So I took the pill. 

Unfortunately one of the side-effects was drowsiness. So I didn't really see much, my eyes kept shutting. Mark tells me it was quite good. I was wiped out for most of the day (the effects are just starting to kick in, in the photo above) - we went back to the hotel in the late afternoon and I slept for two hours. Some of that was pool-side so Mark could have a swim, but I didn't really wake up until 8pm. So it took about 7 hours out of the day. So much for seeing lots of Key Largo!

We were up early the next day to start our trip towards Orlando. We had hoped to drop into Key Biscayne National Park, but unfortunately it wasn't open on Mondays. This was particularly disappointing, as we'd heard that Key Biscayne was our best chance to see a manatee in the wild. So the helpful park ranger sent us in the direction of the Miami Seaquarium, where we'd at least get to see a manatee, even if it was in captivity. So we were back to negotiating the toll roads and highways around Miami. I'm pleased to say that in spite of everything, we made it to the Seaquarium with no damage done to Dick Cheney, or our relationship. 

The Seaquarium was pretty cool. We saw a killer whale (a first for both of us) called Lolita. Her trainer has the coolest job, swimming around with a killer whale and riding about on her (although subsequent research shows Lolita has a checkered history in terms of dangerous behaviour towards trainers). We were a little bit concerned about the size of Lolita's tank, and the fact that she didn't seem to enjoy her job quite as much as the dolphins seem to. 

We saw a couple of dolphins shows, including one on the actual set of the Flipper TV show (for those of you that can remember that show, it was a hit in our household) with one of the actual Flipper dolphins. The did some awesome tricks, and there was a very cute wee baby dolphin, called Squirt, who was getting a bit of gentle training in a side pool.

The highlight though was definitely the manatees. They are the weirdest looking things I've ever seen, kind of a cross between a walrus, a whale and a really fat mermaid. There were four - all were there because the Seaquarium had taken them in after unfortunate and disabling run-ins with humans. manatees have no natural predators, the only immediate danger to them is humans. Many are hit by boats and permanently disabled or killed. One at the Seaquarium had to have 75% of its back flipper removed (they only have one, and it usually accounts for a large percentage of their entire body) after a jet boat collided with it and mangled its flipper beyond help. Another was hit by a boat and had its back broken. Another was orphaned after its mother was killed and subsequent attempts to release her into the wild have all ended badly. As a result none of these three can ever live in the wild again, so instead they have been taken in by the Seaquarium and help out with a wee baby orphaned manatee, who will hopefully be reconditioned to the wild when she is old enough to survive on her own and fend for herself.

Back on the road for the push north. We needed to put some serious road between us and Miami, to make the drive to NASA at Cape Canaveral shorter the next day.

The Florida Keys

After meeting up with Dick Cheney and negotiating our exit from Miami (a long, arduous experience that does not need spelt out as it involves too many toll roads and expletives), we headed south to the Everglades National park - specifically Shark Valley. We've always wanted to go to the Everglades - and had really hoped to make it here during our last expedition - because it's the only place in the world where crocodiles and alligators naturally co-exist. The Everglades are massive wetlands covering a large chunk of southern Florida - they used to be a lot bigger, but the growth of nearby cities, as well as a misguided drainage project started in the early 1900s substantially reduced the Everglades. These days many people are dedicated to their survival - as well as the survival of the many species of wildlife that live there - plants, birds, reptiles and animals, including herons, egrets, otters, crocodiles, alligators, snakes and panthers. We spurned the tram ride and instead rented a couple of fixie bikes and biked the 24 kms of loop road through Shark Valley. 

Within thirty seconds of hitting the road, we saw our first alligator. He was basking in the sunshine a mere three metres from us. No wall, no moat, nothing between us. Excuse the slightly blurred photo, I didn't really want to stop. 

By the end of our bike ride, we'd passed dozens of alligators, most of them were right next to us and some of them were massive. We also saw countless big turtles, a hawk hunting and ultimately eating a baby snake as well as many beautiful birds. The Everglades was awesome and a major highlight. 

We followed our bike ride with a short drive. It would have been a long drive, but the recent rain storms had washed out a number of the back roads we wanted to take, and we were uneasy putting Dick Cheney up to the task so early in our relationship, especially given the 'Danger Panthers' signs and the alligators we saw chilling out roadside. So we headed back to the main highway and turned south. Another major highlight soon followed - sunset over the Florida Keys. Just us, miles of road skipping from island to island, a rainbow coloured sky that looked just like the cocktails we were planning on drinking and the Beach Boys singing Kokomo on Dick Cheney's sound system. We dotted from Key to Key, all the way down to the bottom - Key West. Just in time for a festival, as it turned out. So we checked into our hotel and Ray, our friendly hotel attendant, sent us out to Goombay - the weekend festival that kicks of Fantasy Fest - Key West's slightly more grown up Halloween celebration, involving beer and occasional nudity and a little bit of gay pride for good measure. It was lots of fun to watch in short bursts, but the hangovers the next day would have been nasty, so we contented ourselves with some local beer, live music and a bit of seafood chowder.

The next day was a Key West special - sunny, calm and not too humid. We wandered through the local cemetery, famed for its examples of Key West local humour - the resident hypochondriac whose tombstone reads 'I told you I was sick', the cynic's 'I shall miss my so-called friends', the odd 'I'll be back' and the wife's choice 'At least I know where he's sleeping tonight'. 

At the local French bakery we had a chat with a very cool, shaggy haired middle-aged English bloke who spends three months a year living in Key West, and he looked really, really familiar. We have a sneaking suspicion he was an aging rock star, but can't figure out which one (he's definitely not a Rolling Stone). Then to Ernest Hemingway's Key West house. He lived there with his second of four wives - the house was really hers more than his, as she inherited it - he had a habit of leaving one wife for the next. The house is beautiful - situated right next to the lighthouse, so Hemingway could easily find it on his way back from the pub, features the Keys' first swimming pool, a toilet right next to a window so Hemingway could wave to his friends as they passed, as well as 44 cats, all descended from Hemingway's favourite - Snowball, the six-toed cat, and around half of which have six toes themselves. As a keen sports fisherman, Hemingway subscribed to the sailors' superstitious love of six-toed cats. It was at this house that Hemingway wrote around 70% of his works, including A Farewell to Arms (but not The Old Man and the Sea, written in Havana).

Then a walk along the Waterfront, through Mallory Square and back to our hotel - we'd planned on doing a bit of laundry but a series of unfortunate events lead to nearly two hours lost in the launderette. Tempers flared (mostly mine. Mark was his usual calm self). Short swim, quick shower and off for a romantic dinner on a wide veranda of an old villa on Duval Street, surrounded by fairy lights, with a good view of the shenanigans going on by the barely clad festival goers, but no too close either. We jumped aboard the Ghost Train at 9pm, for a ghoul-filled history of Key West. Its past as a godless, yellow-fever infested pirate haven made for some great stories. The best two were definitely the story of the guy who fell in love with a tuberculosis sufferer on her last legs as he was giving her radiation treatment, who then stole her dead body and hid it all over Key West until the chase was up seven years later (her current burial plot is unknown, leading many to believe he stole her body again before his own death), as well as the story of Robert The Doll - a three and a half foot sailor doll - he's roughly the size of a four year old - whose creepy history inspired Chucky, and the Child's Play films. We met Robert at a creepy dark museum that night - he's a beautiful, eerily calm looking doll, with a wall of testimonials and apologies form people who didn't follow his rules when they met him, who then had a series of mostly harmless if somewhat creepy events befall them.

We were really sad to leave Key West the next day. We both agree that  given the opportunity (and the cash), we'd happily live in one of its picturesque wooden villas and beautiful climate.

Introducing... Dick Cheney

Our new travel buddy, and Winston's successor, Dick Cheney, so named because he is a Dodge Charger, robust, grunty, an older model and looks like he wouldn't shy away from gunfire.

Miami

We were a bit sorry to say goodbye to Mexico - mostly because we'd just started coming to terms with the fact everyone speaks Spanish. So it was a relief to find out that 60% of Miami's residents have Spanish as their mother tongue. And it really was awesome to find ourselves back in the States - even if the rain washed down our taxi windows the whole way to our hotel in the north end of the art deco district of South Beach. It was after 8pm by the time we got there - so we grabbed a quick bite at Jerry's Famous Deli on the corner (I was overjoyed to be reunited with my long lost friend, root beer, I'm hoping it's available in Dublin) and then wandered a wee way along Lincoln Road.

Next day was still raining, so we decided to forgo the walking tour of the art deco district that I'd planned out and booked a bus and boat tour of Miami. It was touristy, but good choice - kept us out of the rain and showed us the entire city, including Little Havana, where Elian Gonzales lived for the period he stayed in the USA and where we watched cigars being hand-made Cuban styles (unfortunately the cigar factory in Havana was shut when we were there). We also jumped on a boat and saw Miami from the water - including the numerous celebrity homes that pepper Miami's islands: P Diddy, Elizabeth Taylor, Gloria and Emilio Estefan, Rosie O'Donnell - the biggest house was owned by the head of a pharmaceuticals company, and some German businessman had an air conditioned backyard. We spent the evening drifting along art deco Ocean Drive - an incredible combination of art deco glamour and neon styling. After a beautiful sea food dinner, we grabbed pina coladas at Clevelanders a massive bar, with outdoor counters lit up in neon pint electric tiles, fairy lights climbing every tree, a dance floor over a swimming pool and eighties fabulous music. The other patrons were almost as good as the decor - a bunch of local gals who came running up when they heard their (pretty obscure) favourite song and did a massive choreographed dance, as well as a pretty drunk Dad-aged guy, beautifully dressed in his Ralph Lauren polo and chinos, who started cutting some serious shapes and getting low on the dance floor.

Waking up the next day, we were relieved to see the sun had finally come to the party. So we finally did my art deco walking tour (and also saw Dash /Miami and Miami ink, for those who share my secret shame, and Gianni Versace's former home - he was killed on the steps above), and ended up sitting on South Beach watching the waves roll in. It looked so enticing that we raced home, suited up and came back for a swim. We could have spent hours just watching people on the beach, watching various tourists, the cold water spruikers getting chased away by the 'official' refreshment sellers, the over-inflated local women (For me, Miami will always mean fake eyelashes and massive boob jobs - even the mannequins in the stores have them). We were keen to be rested for the next day - our introduction to our new travelling companion - so after a last wander around our neighbourhood and a slice of pizza for dinner, we were early to bed.

Cancun

Cancun was supposed to be the sun-sand-sea part of our trip. But just after we arrived, a tropical storm hit that lasted for most of the time we were there. After catching up on the sleep we lost as a result of our early exit from Havana, we went into Cancun town to get some genuine Mexican for late lunch. The burritos and tacos were definitely worth the walk in the rain.

The next day we were picked up by the tour bus at 7am for the trip to Chizen Itza. We were the first to be picked up - not much fun when the other people ARE NOT WAITING at the lobbies of their hotels as they are meant to be, and you end up waiting for them to be chased to the bus, which takes, oh, I don't know, forever. As a result we'd been in the bus for nearly two hours before we drove back past our hotel on the way out of Cancun. I was nearly homicidal, even Mark departed from character and was mildly irritated.

The drive out to Chichen Itza was over two hours long - broken up by a visit to a 'genuine' Mayan market, where La Bamba was (finally) playing on the loud speakers. Then finally to Chichen Itza, one of the seven wonders of the modern world. It's a former Mayan city, but its crowning glory is the pyramid, whose ridges and steps and stones tell the time in five different ways - by hours, days, months, years and the 144,000 years or so it takes for all the planets to line up. There is another pyramid built inside the big outer pyramid, and when the sun hits the pyramid at the equinox and solstice, it's built so that strong rays of light appear to stream from the pyramids. 

It's also a bit of an acoustic feat - the top of the pyramid is a very early loudhailer, which allowed the chief to address the whole city. Also, if you stand directly in front of the staircases and clap, a sound effect is created so that your clapping sounds like the call of the colourful bird that lives in the area and that the Mayans held sacred. There's also a temple where (human) sacrifices were made, as well as a beautiful cenote (a sinkhole/watersource). Off the main courtyard of the town, there are less visited ruins which you can touch and walk among. After five minutes of looking around the day was disrupted by a massive rainstorm - and there's nowhere to shelter. Mark bartered a spruiker down to 30 peso (from 50) for a flimsy emergency poncho, which was reduced to tatters before it was out of its packet. It was pretty miserable, but still worth going.

Back in the bus and off for a typical tourist buffet, where you take a bit of everything and so it all tastes like nothing - only this one had Mexicans dancing with beer bottles on their heads. Pretty cool. Then to my favourite part of the day - a massive underground cavern/cenote. We decided not to swim in it, because we were still freezing cold from the rain and had only just dried off. But we really regretted this decision when we got down to the cenote, one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. The photos don't do it justice at all. 

The next day started with rain, ended with rain, and rained the whole way in between. The wind was unbelievably gusty - and it all looked very beautiful from our hotel room window until it started leaking. We spent the day down in tourist Cancun - at a mall, unsuccessfully trying to use the free wifi, grabbing some lunch and checking out the local aquarium, where we got to pat a stingray (slimy) and watched people take part in a dolphin programme where they kind of rode them like waterskis. We grabbed dinner at a family Mexican joint, which was right next door to Hooters and shared outdoor seating. Considering I only have about four words of Spanish, I was very proud when my 'gracias' was so convincing the waiter told me I "could be a Spanish". Unfortunately, he told me my 'adios' could use some practice.

Another early start the next day - the only dry day of our time in Cancun - when we took a trip to the Isla Mujeres (off the coast of Cancun) on board a catamaran. We were dumped in the ocean after about an hour and snorkelled to the catamaran, about forty minutes away. There were plenty of tropical fish, despite the tropical storm which had churned up the water a bit, although the human life was pretty amusing too - especially the older American lady who hadn't figured out that flippers don't work on their own and you actually need to kick. It wasn't so funny for the wee Mexican dude who got the unfortunate job of dragging her back to the catamaran though. After the usual buffet, we sailed into Isla Mujeres. We had a bit over and hour to enjoy there, so we skipped the run of the mill looking market and rented a golf cart. We drove most of the way across the island (slight wrong turn meant we didn't see the 'main sights', but we did see a lot of genuine Mexican dogs on the alternative scenic route). Back on the boat, we cemented our friendship with Dave and Steve, a couple of Bostonian school chums who decided against their usual annual camping catch up and took off for Cancun, leaving the wives and kids at home. All three of the guys parasailed off the back of the catamaran in the late afternoon sun (I decided against... a very convincing excuse involving my contact lenses). 

We all caught the bus back together - but Steve left his towel on the bus. It was hotel issued - comes with a $25 charge if you don't return it - so we tracked him down and arranged to meet up for a beer in town later and return his towel. Tourist Cancun at night is pretty synge - lots of drunk dudes, lots of little kids selling Mexican bracelets on the footpaths, but the real kicker was the dude who had a massive boa constrictor for photo opportunities. Totally put me off my pina colada.

We didn't stay out too long - we didn't want to intrude too much on Steve and Dave's manly catch up., and we had a plane to Miami to catch the next day.

Havana

Our first glimpse of Havana city was at 2am, from the back seat of a taxi at 110ks, no seat-belts, singing along to the driver's Phil Collins CD. We'd spent a fair amount of the night at the first stop on our cuban cultural experience - Jose Marti airport. With a stern "one by one!" from the robotic young female immigration officer, our visas were sternly stamped before we were sternly told "welcome", a buzz sounded and she sternly gestured towards a door next to the booth. For both of us, tired and disoriented, the door was an effort to open, though the robot provided stern midwifesque encouragement... "push!!!"

The second cultural experience was the baggage claim. Weighed down by all the products Cuban people are not allowed to buy (or are rationed), the conveyer belt inched around with bags of toilet paper, toothpaste, clothes, LCD screens, printers. Almost everything had been cut open by customs officials behind the scenes.

Waking up in next day we looked out the window to see Havana at its best. Spanish colonial buildings, set against soviet-looking apartment blocks, locals slouching about along the streets, big 1950's Chevs, Fords and Cadillacs along with dozens of more recent Ladas (the classic lego-car design).

The hotel (Parque Centrale) is right next to Havana's central park, in the old part of the city. Subsequent research reveals that it is probably owned by the Cuban military. Cuba began to open up to tourism in 1992, after the fall of the Soviet Empire meant it lost billions in aid and trade. About 5% of Havana's population works in tourism - because the ability to earn tips over and above the (very low) fixed wages mean it's the most lucrative industry to work in. This means that, as a tourist in Cuba,  you get a lot of attention from spruikers ('Hey amigos, you wanna go to Salsa festival?', 'Happy holidays amigos you wanna buy cigar?'). So our first experience in Havana was getting bullied by a horse and cart driver into taking a trip with him and his horse Marlboro. I do not use the term bullying lightly. He stalked us to the ATM and was waiting outside our hotel when we got back. We wanted to run upstairs and put some money in our safe, so took a different entrance - and he spotted us and ran after us yelling. So, beaten into submission, we took his tour. It was about an hour long and involved him pointing at buildings and saying 'Church!', 'Square!'. Not a lot of information, but it did give us a nice orientation tour of Old Havana, and the cart's hood kept the worst of Havana's scorching rays from exacerbating Mark's sunburn. 

After a short nap and a dip in the roof-top pool, we set off for an evening walk. We headed down La Rambla, modeled on the one in Barcelona - sadly, you get the feeling that if the buildings were well-maintained, this one would be much prettier. Half way along we were accosted by a young man who told us that Cuba was the best country on Earth. Then, after trying to get us to go to a salsa bar, asked us if we could buy milk for his baby in a shop he isn't allowed to use. Cuba has two currencies, the convertible peso (CUC), for tourists, which can be converted into other currencies, and the national peso (CUP) for locals, which can't - and which is also worth about one fourteenth of a convertible peso. So, if you give a local one convertible peso, it's like you've given them fourteen pesos - the gratitude for tips in Havana was a bit heartbreaking. It also means that some shops only use one or other of the currencies, resulting in an effective tourist/Cuban apartheid system in places. Anyway, so this dude wanted us to buy some milk for his baby. I strongly suspected he had no baby, so declined (later we found out that every Cuban kid gets a litre of milk per day in rations). We also found out that you go in, buy the milk for 2CUC (about $2US) and then give it to the dude. He takes the milk back, gets a partial refund from the shop owner and they're both about $1US richer - which is pretty good when you consider that most Cubans have about $20US a month in disposable income (everything they 'need' is rationed [see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rationing_in_Cuba]). 

We wandered along the waterfront - which like most of Havana was filthy but beautiful. Old men fishing off the stone walls that surround the port, others floating in inner tubes on the water trying their luck with their fishing rods. Then back up the plaza in front of the stunning Spanish Embassy and the Museum of the Revolution - the former Presidential Palace in the Batista days and before. Kids were playing soccer, old men were hanging about looking Cuban. 

Past the Granma invasion monument - complete with aircraft and vehicles used in the invasion, and protected by young Cuban soldiers with an incredible ability to remain completely stationary. Then on to Central Park, where the elderly had perfected the art of sitting on park benches looking Cuban and smoking cigars, past the massive Capitolio building (very similar to its estranged cousin in Washington D.C., only as every Cuban will tell you, it's over a metre taller). The Capitolio has a huge garden in front of it, with statues of heroes of the American continent - including Abraham Lincoln, who is much revered in Cuba, although not as much as Che, Camillo Cienfuegos, and nowhere near as much as Cuba's greatest hero Jose Marti who accounts for almost every statue, bust and painting in Havana... or so it seems.  We sat down for what we hoped was a quiet beer under the massive veranda of the Hotel Inglaterra opposite Central Park, however we were soon interrupted by the strains of Guantamera played live from further down the veranda. This was to become a constant theme in our time in Latin America (although, interestingly, we were away for more than a week before we heard La Bamba). Back to the Hotel before midnight, to find a wee note from the lady who cleaned our hotel room saying hello. Over our three days in Havana, we struck up a pleasant correspondence with her. Mark also spent a fair while watching the garbage collector men, who parked in the back alley behind our hotel and went through the rubbish they'd collected, carefully placing the valuable things (partially finished toilet rolls, for example) to one side.

Next day we went to the lobby for our guided tour of Havana. It was the best tour we've ever been on. You're given your own guide, who answers all your questions (to a certain extent) and takes you to the main places and wherever else you want to go. We started by driving to Revolution Square - the largest public square in the world, where the iconic pictures of Che and Camillo gaze down on you from the Military buildings which surround it. 

It is here that the locals celebrate the Triumph of the Revolution, and where Fidel has made most of his celebrated (and lengthy) speeches. Off to the public park in Havana, where the Santeria practice their faith (we saw them playing with beads near where a chicken had recently been sacrificed) and then around the waterfront, past the Hilton which was taken over by the Revolutionary government pretty much just as it was finished - meaning the Hiltons never got to make any money out of it, the Swiss Embassy, which also deals with US immigration issues and which was the scene of protests during the Elian Gonzales days. We then started a walking tour of Old Havana, most of which dates back to the Spanish colonial period. It is ornate, filthy and absolutely beautiful, with large squares surrounded by old hotels with wide, shady verandas, churches, and museums.

Many of these buildings were previously wealthy families' homes and apartments, but were reclaimed by Castro's government in the days following the revolution. Some people are able to continue to occupy these buildings for as long as the family member who owned it prior to the Revolution survives, and then it is taken over by the government, either to use as offices, or to house other Cubans (people who have served the country well are rewarded by being housed in prime real estate). We enjoyed beers and pina coladas with our guide on the rooftop of the Hotel Nacional - Havana's oldest glamour hotel (the Pope stayed here during his visit, and so did Jimmy Carter) with incredible views of the port and the old city. The Hotel Nacional is not far from the Hotel where Ernest Hemingway wrote The Old Man and the Sea, which is set in a village outside of Havana. Apparently the 'Old Man', discussions with whom formed the basis of Hemingway's novel, only died in 2002 at the age of 104, and sat and enjoyed a drink at the same bar, where he met with Hemingway, regularly until he died. You can see why people want to get in tourism - the tip we gave our guide was half the average Cuban monthly wage, but Americans would probably have felt slighted by the tip. We'd been given strict instructions as to what a maximum tip could be - after our guide's stellar effort, we thought he deserved the maximum.

We enjoyed a few beers and a frank discussion with locals at a bar in Central Havana. The arrival of tourism and limited, slow internet in Cuba has opened people's eyes to the comparative luxuries the rest of the world enjoys. There seems to be some desire for change, but also a large amount of apathy. The main desire seems to be the ability to visit other countries - which is near on impossible for Cubans. Mark showed one guy pictures of himself snowboarding on his iPhone - the combination of snow and an iPhone nearly set the guy off. Not to mention their amazement when we told them how Mark sold his car on TradeMe before we left - the internet, the ability to own a car, and then sell it yourself with zero government intervention was incredible to them.

We thought we'd try some genuine Cuban food that night, so headed to a place recommended to us by our guide. It was very meat-centric... and unfortunately the meat was almost unchewable. But the seasoning was good. I was a bit distracted by a waif of a dog with a badly broken leg, who hung around the outside tables. It was a really cute wee thing, but its entire lower leg was bent under and its foot was splayed sideways. As a result its walk was a weird, painful looking lumber. It was heart-wrenching. Our waiter (typical young Cuban man - very tidily dressed with an army-style hair cut)

saw how worried I was about the puppy and gave me a wink - later we noticed as he was clearing our plates he surreptitiously knocked a few pieces of uneaten meat on the ground for it (it was quite chubby, I suspect this happens a bit). Unfortunately, the cleaning lady swept them up not long after - luckily we had saved some in a napkin and left it for the puppy next to a pot-plant. The waiter also got a near rule-breaking tip for being a top bloke.

Next day was hot - again. We got up early to go for a walk before the heat of the day kicked in. We headed for the Museum of the Revolution. Neither of us is hugely clued up about the why and wherefores of the Cuban Revolution and its subsequent relationship with the USA. The Revolution Museum was an interesting (if somewhat text-heavy/exhibit light) way to be shown the official Cuban line on it. Lots of "Triumphs of the Revolution", "Imperialist tyrants" etc etc. There were a few highlights - Che Guevara's beret, Fidel Castro's fabulous wayfarer sunglasses, Raul Castro's jackboots. It's quite hard to know the fact from the propaganda, from any perspective. There was a literacy drive in Cuba in the 60s (I think it was the 60s), which apparently reduced illiteracy to nil... while it is apparently true that Cuba has one of the highest literacy rates in the world, a nil illiteracy rate seems a big call. The Museum was followed by a turn in the rooftop pool, complete with Cuban cocktails. The view overlooking Havana is really curious - many of the old Spanish colonial buildings in Old Havana are unoccupied, and appear to have been hollowed out. It's not clear whether they've just been cleared of any dangers, or whether they're being prepped for something. Apparently Raul Castro is more open to tourism and international interests than his brother, it may be that they're planned for hotels or more museums. Big blue plastic water containers sit on top of most buildings, amid washing lines and kids beating up their little brothers.

After a short siesta we headed off to the Spanish fort overlooking Havana - right as a thunderstorm hit. Big time. While trying to find shelter from the relentless rain, we stumbled across a) a weapons museum which contained both a battering ram and a catapult and b) Che Guevara's post Revolution office, and an interesting exhibition in his honour. There's no denying the man was photogenic. 

Our flight to Cancun left at 7 - so our pick up from the hotel was (dun dun!) 3am... so after a pizza, a beer and the big fat Cuban cigar Mark bought earlier that day from the Cigar factory, we tried to get to sleep in spite of the raucous Havana night that erupted outside our window. Cuba was fabulous - I wouldn't want to live there, but I definitely want to go back and see the whole island next time.

Playa del Carmen

There's not a lot to write about the first couple of days in PlayaCar, without losing our faithful readers (thanks Mums!) through boredom or jealously. Suffice to say, our time at the "all inclusive" resort involved lying on the beach or by the pool, following overweight Americans around the buffet loop, getting a bit sun burnt, a few margaritas, mojitos (made by bartenders Jesus and Angel), cervezas (beers), etc. While working at the numerous resorts is a thankless task for low-paid Mexicans, tourism is basically the only industry here on the Yucatan Peninsula. Around 70% of the numerous hotels are owned by the Spanish, and there are a huge number of them enjoying the fruits of their "second conquest" as the locals call it.

We had one day away from the largesse of the resort, where we took a tour of the Tulum Mayan village, about an hour along the coast. The Mayans were there more for the kai moana than the view, but as you can see from the photos it is beautiful. The Mayans never ventured over the horizon or discovered that wind could power their boats, but they did manage to devise a series of fire-powered light houses to guide their canoes through the gap in the reef and safely to shore.

Just outside the wall of the city was a flea market - inevitable in these sort of places. Aside from all the cheap pseudo-mexican tat, there was an iguana breeder, who also happened to be a talented photograph salesman. With one hand he flung the iguana (now named Iggy Pop as we can't remember its actual name) over my shoulder and the other extracted 50 mexican pesos from my hand. It was surprisingly heavy, soft, and docile.

Internet access in these parts isn't great, so we've been a bit out of the loop on various things. Following the RWC has been particularly difficult though we did manage to catch the AB/Argentina game with a couple of Welsh people in a quiet resort bar.