Where to start. Here I am, three and a half months into the New Zealand traveling experience, sitting in an internet cafe in glorious Sydney, Australia. The girls and I are really enjoying our Aussie vacation. Sydney is wonderful and has really shown us her good side. The weather here hasn't been quite as accommodating, but I have to admit that it feels really nice to walk around in shorts and a tank top at 10 pm. If there's a place in New Zealand where you can do that, I haven't been there yet, or at least not at the right time of year. We had a wonderful time with the Hartley brothers, and were very sad to see them leave. I think we all feel pretty confident that we'll somehow manage to meet up again- we've done a spectacular job so far... Those poor boys are going to wake up one morning to our eagerly smiling faces at their doorstep.

Megan's portrayal of how out nights are going is, unfortunately, accurate... if not an understatement. It's confusing how we are continuing to function throughout the day on the small amount of sleep that we're getting. Actually, based on the disoriented call home I made a few days ago, my mother might tell you that my circuits are a little screwed.

Maybe the three of us are still going off the amazing sleep we banked while staying at the house of a family friends of mine. The Nichols, Allan and Sweet Bronnie, were absolutely incredible. Somehow they thought it was a good idea to let me talk them into inviting five of us stay with them- myself, the two girls, and our darling friends George and Jack (who somehow we managed to talk into stopping in Australia on their way home to England). We made it in time for a going away party for their son Phillip and his partner Georgia's traveling extravaganza and were able to shmoose it up with family members and friends for the night. Bronwin's parents stole the show and charmed all five of us. The next day we were off, following Allan's lead, to the reptile park where we were able to see all the reptilian, avian, and mamallian sights Australia has to offer. Somehow the poor Nichols were tricked into having all five of us stay, once again, for the next night. George was horrified that we were overstaying our welcome, I'm sure. We all had a genuinely wonderful time talking around the table at dinner that night, followed by some good old fashioned televised tennis and cricket. Turns out Melanie and I are absolutely no good at watching, or understanding any of the rules of, cricket. Megan had the good sense to fall asleep early on the couch. I've had quite a few people make comments to me about being a typical American and not knowing the rules of REAL sports, like cricket or rugby. I assure them that my ignorance of those sports has nothing to do with my nationality because even after all the Super Bowl parties, high school sporting events, and football games I've watched with my family, I still have only a slight understanding of what's happening in football... and even that is pretty limited to the knowledge that there are four quarters in a game and 7 points in a touchdown. Actually I have a confession: after typing that I looked at Megan to confirm that there were in fact, four quarters and 7 points to a touchdown. She responded that there are for sure four quarters, but shrugged her shoulders in a "your best guess is as good as mine" regarding the touchdown system. I'm not even sure if America will let us back in the gates if word gets out, that's probably grounds for removal of citizenship.

Whether they were impressed with our sports knowledge or not, the Nichols really showed us a wonderful time. We delighted in bird watching from their kitchen, being part of the traditional weekend trivia quiz, the AMAZING food we were given (they even bought gluten free bread for Mel!), and in general being accepted into their family for a few days. I think the five of us were all just a breath away from calling them Mom and Dad by the time we left. So thank you, Dear Allan and Sweet Bronnie. If nothing else, thank you for providing us the only showers (other than at the beach) the girls and I were able to take until the public pool today... yes, it's been 7 days. Probably for the best that they got to see us at the beginning of the trip rather than the end.

On that note, Meg, Mel, and I are every second slipping further into the homeless life. We thought we had hit rock bottom at the beginning of our adventure through OZ: Megan and I were struggling through the city with a backpack each and jointly carrying another cumbersome bag. Megan, in a flash of genius, commented that what we could really use was a shopping cart to help us. I marveled at her ingenuity. That was just the beginning. Later, the three of us wistfully admired an exceptionally posh homeless camp that George showed us. Today at the rugby match we watched the game from outside the black bars lining the stadium. After months of washing dishes in drinking fountains, showering wherever running water can be found (this week we delighted in a spigot we found at a local park), and camping on the side of the road (we haven't paid for camping once in Australia), you really come to adjust to things. Today were asked by a security guard to move from our lunch spot: the floor of a parking garage.

The standard that has been set for a "good night's sleep" is ridiculous. Our rented Ford Falcon (dubbed FalConnie by George and Jack, but endearingly referred to as Steve by the three of us) has the same layout as Connie. Every night we fold the seats down and voila: bedroom in the backseat. I sleep every night on my orange backpacking Thermarest that was only long enough for me when I started using it at the age of 6. The nights that I have spent in previous years' backpacking trips lying awake cursing that thing are now long gone. Even crunched in the back of a station wagon sleeping like vampires, (all three of us with our arms crossed over our chests because there isn't enough shoulder room for three people) I awake feeling as satisfied as I would in my wonderful bed at home. It's amazing what you can adapt to.

So we're off to Melbourne now. The girls' birthdays, Feb 10th for Mel and 11th for Megan, will be celebrated at a Jens Lekman concert were attending. We'll see the opening ceremonies for the Olympics from somewhere in Australia, then Mel and I will head back to New Zealand for another leg of our trip. I have a very exciting visitor coming on the 18th of February, and near mid March Mel and I are thinking about heading up to the North Island where Danielle. We plan to get jobs (kiwi packaging plant?) to save money for a potential trip to SE Asia the month before we return home. It will be very sad to be doing all of these things without Megan and Lauren. I guess we'll just have to wait until our next grand adventure to all be reunited. Maybe a road trip around America this fall? I'm halfway convinced to pay whatever is necessary to ship Connie back to the States when I go. We all adore that little car.

Oz

We arrived in Byron Bay last night after an 8 hour drive up the coast, which included multiple kangaroo sightings and some awesome hitch hikers we became friends with. They are from Sydney (which we've fallen in love with), so when we go back in a week they have us all set up to stay at their house and go to their favorite restuarants, cafes, and bookshops. They also have a friend living in Seattle right now, so I'm excited to meet up with her when I get home. For those who don't know, this is coming much sooner than I'd thought, and I'll be back in your parts on the 15th of this month.

We dropped the boys (George and Jack) off at a train station yesterday, and they are heading home to England today. We spent a glorious five days with them here and are so glad we got this many chances to travel with them. A highlight was going to the Reptile Park, where we hugged kangaroos and pet koalas and anacondas. We even payed the 15 bucks to get our picture taken with a koala. Totally worth it. We also spent an entire afternoon at the beach, swimming in the warm water and burning our little butts to a crisp. By some miracle the two gingers barely burned at all, and us bronzed Americans got scorched.

As we got into Byron Bay last night, we drove up to the parking lot on the beach to a mystical sight of gentle waves lit up by the dropping sun, loads of surfers lined up for perfectly peeling waves, and drum beats drifting up from the rocks. Not to mention the abundance of babes lounging and wandering about. The air was warm and muggy, not much like New Zealand at all, and we sat watching the scene, quickly allowing ourselves to be sucked into it. We decided after a few minutes that we could stay here at least a week...we might have to rearrange our plans.

It still feels good to be on the road, believe it or not, letting the wind or the weather or an odd looking coin determine our direction. Our path is unkown, and this gives us joy. To think that my life on the road is coming to an end - my five month camping jaunt is about to become nostalgia instead of reality - is a complex thing to process. At times like this, I really feel like I could travel forever. Not to say that I'm not excited about getting home.. it actually feels like exactly the right place for me to be, and I have no hesitations about heading back. It will be nice to have a bed and a bit of stability. This was especially clear after our horrible nights sleep last night...

The heat and the humidity really got to us sleeping in the car. If we rolled down the windows, the mosquitos would sneak in, or an unexpected downpour would rain down out of nowhere. So we were stuck with each others' smelly, sweaty bodies, not appreciating the body heat of spooning in the slightest. At some point in the night, our unwanted company did sneak in, and it turned out that we only got a couple hours of sleep at most. Instead, we talked sporadically, knowing our companions were wide awake at any given point, and thrashed our hands around in the air every couple minutes to get the mosquitos away from our faces. It was the sort of thing where I'd just be drifting off to sleep, when I'd hear Christy's sleeping bag rustling around and her hands frantically slapping at the open air, out for death, or blood, or revenge, or all of the above.

The mosquitos are huge here - easily the size of my thumbnail - and filled with a frightening amount of blood. It was a satisfying moment, after I'd been chasing one of em around the car with my headlamp, to slap it against the back window and get instant silence from that incessant high pitched buzzing. I held my hand out to the girls, so they could see the nasty bugger and the thieved blood across my hand. If anyone has seen the youtube video of the kid yelling blood, it went a little like that. SLAP ... BLOOOOOD.

We are feeling quite ambitious at the moment, and are trying to make it up to the Great Barrier Reef AND down to Melbourne. Nobody thinks we can do it, but we are determined.