Sydney

I was glad we had a good last night with Feona, although not so glad that she gave up her bed for us. You see, my side had one of Feona's more macabre nick-nacks - a skull - sitting looking at me from my bedside table, giving me all that "As I Am Now, So Shall Ye Be" vibe. Nevertheless, I slept ok through to 6am when I showered and knocked Feona awake, she growled through the wall in such a way to remind me that yes, she and Caro do Share Genes.  

The flight itself was very nice; especially after the Tauranga-Auckland flight. The only thing I can say against it was that they showed "The Legend of Bagger Vance" which was one of the bigger lots of shite I've seen recently. On arrival in Sydney I was treated with GREAT SUSPICION upon presenting my British passport.

"When were you last in England?" the customs guy asked.

"BEFORE Christmas," I emphasised in a pre-the-days-of-foot-and-mouth-honest-sort-of-way, and he immediately relaxed, but I wondered what happened to all the Poms who arrived after the outbreak?  Do they get dragged round the back, stripped down and hosed off while their clothes are incinerated?  Or do the Ozzies merely force all Poms to wade through a vat of super-strong sheep dip?  Fortunately, I didn't have to find out.

Outside the airport, we were very impressed by the organisation of the transport and we were at Eva's Backpackers where we'd booked ourselves. Eva herself was this grey-haired lady who gave us our room key and directed us upstairs.  

Never having stayed in a hostel before, I couldn't really measure the quality of this one. It seemed ok to me. Then again, at this stage anything with a bed in it seemed ok. I don't know why but I was absolutely knackered.  I'd only been awake for about 10 hours. 

Weird. 

Anyway, the result was that with the time-difference I was laying flat out and snoring at about 3 in the afternoon.  You'd think this would be a whole jet-lag problem wouldn't you? But not for a seasoned traveller like myself. You see, I got around that whole being awake in the middle of the night thing by sleeping solidly for about 20 hours in a row, not stirring until 7am Sunday morning. Poor Caro had to basically sit around most of Saturday, watching me drool into my pillow.