Latest photies, New Zealand...

Woody - crabs... Lyttelton in the background...

You can see our wee house from there - red roof...

Mt Herbert. Views back to Lyttelton and over the hills to Christchurch

Celebratory pole dance, summit of Mt. Herbert...


After first game of football in 8 months. Unsuitable footwear.

Happier times, before Gavino fucked off with the jeep (pictured)...


Johan, taking a dump in my mouth...

Woody and Tink - anti gravity capers at the salt flats...

Deserted town, salt flats tour, Bolivia...


The Jump-Off, at the Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia with Johan and Luna.


Influenced by the Swede, they're so liberal.

I'm the one with the hat on...

Crisis talks - stranded in the desert at Laguna Colorada, Bolivia...

You've got previous for that...

Junkie house at Laguna Colorada, Salt Flats Drama...


The only tour group without a jeep. Or a driver, for that matter...



Cigars and mojitos, last night in Granada, Nicaragua...

Moments before all the bull-shit happened..Villarreal, Costa Rica.

Moments after the bull - pool party, Tamarindo, Costa Rica...

I've got the thyme if you've got the money...

Yeah, cos it's work in a deli. Continuing to balance work, rest and play - just like a Mars bar. For massive revelations and exciting travel news, the reader may just have to hold their horses until we move onto the next little leg of the trip, and pastures more exotic. At the moment it feels as if we've briefly stopped being travellers and are beginning to become part of the community. Flippin' paying tax and everything. Our days in Lyttelton are pretty cruisey - hiking into the hills behind the house or going down to the coffee shop for a wee read of the papers and so on. Hmm, hung parliament and whatnot... We're at the stage where there are already a lot of familiar friendly faces, and because Lyttelton is so small there's a lot of bumping into people in the street, then in work, then in the pub so we've been able to get to know people pretty quickly. Probably feel more a part of this community than we did in the west end of Glasgow, but it ain't home. Found a shop that sells Irn Bru though - that was a good day.

Deli duties have been upgraded to the Making of Pies. Have been able to subtly influence the decision making process; this week the deli will have to deal with trying to sell over a dozen macaroni pies - a Scottish institute. Next week we'll be aiming for a Nutella and peanut butter crunchy filling. Spent my last shift at work doing mushrooms, although it wasn't quite the spiritually significant moment I'd hoped for - just ended up with pureed mushrooms all over my T-shirt. No hallucinogenic effects whatsoever. Bummer. Woody is still a popular figure at the El Santo bar. She's holding her own as the only girl behind the bar - her perennial beaming smile can be quickly transformed into a steely ball-breaking glare whenever any of the aforementioned Ruski sailors overstep the mark. I've also started another job in the Video Ezy DVD rental shop, which basically involves watching Karate Kid and Back to the Future twice a day and then taking home as many free rentals as I can get my grubby little paws on...

It's horsing down with rain at present, which dampens spirits a little, but given the amount of free DVDs at hand, there's plenty to occupy an afternoon under the heat conditioner...

Is this a weekday? What day is this?

First bites of proper real reality in more than half a year - the search for work. You don't go out looking for a job dressed like that? On a weekday? Managed to find gainful employment in a deli. This is the same boy whose idea of culinary wizardry extends to mixy-up bowls of Cheerios and Weetabix or peanut butter chocolate spread sandwiches. Perhaps not best suited to work in a deli which the Lonely Planet calls 'ground zero for the best of Kiwi food'. Although if you ever wanted to know who mashed the potatoes for the horseradish mash - that one was me. They let me peel the carrots too.

On the opposite side of town, the young Woody has carved herself out a niche in the bar 'El Santo Porteno' as charmer of drunk Russian sailors and generally stunning barmaid. The aforementioned sailors arrive in Lyttelton harbour for the weekend, get drunk and try to get a bit of loving before they leave again. Last Friday the Russians we encountered at the bar were in particular high spirits. Apparently they'd all just been made 'captain'. Surely only one captain is required though? Surely that's the point of a 'captain', no? Obviously not familiar with the saying "too many cooks spoil the broth". Maybe they'd be more familiar with the saying "too many cocks spoil the bar" - as the night went on it was more and more irritating when they would point to Woody and ask me 'how much?' Supposedly Lyttelton has a bit of a shady past where sailors could make port and purchase a little sex of a Saturday night. It seems that this tradition still resonates in the attitudes of these salty sea dogs - and the surprise when I tell them I don't have to pay: "What? Her? For free!?" Well, not exactly. They don't wait for the full explanation, just move on to the next target and begin pricing again. Dirty sailors. I bet they've got a favourite barmaid in every port. The bastards.

So we've now been in New Zealand for over a month and have settled in pretty well to the small community here. Already making friends and it's all very nice. At this point we are about as far away from Scotland as it's possible to be before it's the way back. The similarities between the two countries are many - but these similarities sometimes serve to reinforce just how far away we are from home, and from loved ones. Funny how that works. But it's all good...