Ohhh the weather outside is frightful...

Whenever anybody asked about our trip, we'd only ever be able to make it to 'and then we're in New York for a month..." before the cries of "OH MY GOD New York? Its going to be freezing!" cut us off.

Everyone of course had their own little bit of traveling advice to pass on, but the warnings about New York in December were by far the most common.

Stef, a Winter hater, had been dreading it since we booked the tickets. Myself on the other hand, couldn't fathom how a little chill was going to be such a HUGE part of my fabulous New York adventure.

As we loaded on up and headed outside La Guardia airport to try and get a bus into Manhattan, we were far too hot and bothered not to mention sweaty from sporting a small house on our backs, to even notice the icy wind slapping us in the face.

By the time we arrived outside Grand Central terminal, we were far too awe struck with everything around us to notice that everyone walking by resembled eskimos.

And as we realised we has been too cocky in attempting the subway on our first night, therefore hopping off at the first station we could, we were too overwhelmed with the dude screaming "THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE AMERICA" to understand we were totally underdressed.
In fact it wasnt until after dumping our bags at Sabrina's apartment on W36th st (dont even ask me to explain how THAT all works) and deciding on a walk to Times Square that the we accepted how bloody freezing it actually was.

"Oh no way this is perfect weather...if it was this warm all the time, I'd be happy" scoffed Sab.

Shitty.

Times Square was indescribable. Every available service was covered in blinking, flashing, colour changing, neon, LED lights. Every building, every shop...everything. Nothing you see in the movies or TV shows does it justice. I took about a million photos and not ONE of them does it justice. It is so loud and so bright and so in your face and magical and exciting and overwhelming all at once. There is a photo Stef took of me staring up at something, mouth hanging open like a 5 year old.

After drinking in as much of it as possible for one night (and thanking my lucky stars I didnt have epilepsy) we walked the few blocks home and crashed out.

Sabrina's apartment is awesome. The outside looks like something you'd see in an episode of friends, with the fire stairs zigzagging up the bricks and grey metal trash cans out the front. After making it past the long and narrow corridor, you're treated to a mini kitchen (kettle, toaster, oven however no microwave and only 2 forks). The bathroom is a architectural masterpiece, a shower is squeezed in at an angle, with toilet almost impossible to get to, wedged in behind the sink and next to the towel rack.

The living room/our bedroom is the epitome of shared student living. Sabrina and her housemate also called Sabrina (thus being christened with the nickname Sabrina Squared) are both students at the New York Film Academy (NYFA), so the walls are adorned with old Audrey Hepburn movie posters and the coffee table is littered with monologue books. Our bed is on the floor in the corner, opposite the Taj Mahal of backpacks and clothing with our own window looking out onto the fire escape stairs and snow.

We also share our 'bedroom' with Batman the cats litter trey. Who needs alarm clocks when you have a cat's morning poo wafting through your nostrils!?

Sabrina and Sabrinasquared's rooms are off the living room. It's a sick apartment, always cosy and warm to come home to after trudging home in the snow and pretty much right in the the middle (or a short subway trip away) from everywhere you want to be.

Day 2 in NY was spent discovering Soho and keeping an eye out for Natalie Portman who was apartment spotted earlier in the week. The streets are far more picturesque than Times Square and there are funny little shops and cafe's all over the shop. We spent about 54 hours in Urban Outfitters (our new favourite store..its like General Pants and Borders and Crown st all combined but cooler) before catching the sub' home and spent the night getting acquainted with some of the other NYFA students. After some amusing conversations (a favourite quote of mine: "I know I'm really good, but I'm going to get even better. I'm going to be a star!") the lines became blurry and it was soon difficult to figure out if the girls were having a conversation or rehearsing for a scene.

Day three, Sab our tour guide had college so we took ourselves off to Fifth Ave for a sightseeing adventure that included the New York State Library (amazing), Empire State Building (exciting and oddly quiet up there) and the famous Rockefeller Christmas tree.

By now, we had also grown enough balls to try a hot dog from one of the street vendors (which was so amazing, we immediately ordered a 2nd) and had our first snow fall.

We hadnt even gotten dressed yet when I was putting the juice back in the fridge and noticed it was raining outside. Except the rain was obese. And cold. And white.

An excitable snow-dance and run-outside-in-our-undies-to-take-pictures later and we were walking through it; something that's not so fun.

As I have discovered, snow is cool and a novelty when it's sitting happily on the ground, covering sidewalks, trees and cars...it's also kinda cute when you have little snow flakes on your beanie...however snow is NOT cute when it's actually falling. In fact it's kinda sharp and cuts your eyes and face. It's like rain....but colder and we soon learnt that you're supposed to treat it as such as use umbrellas.

Still- I'm the one holding up the group on the way to dinner because I'm way behind, laughing to myself while I write my name in the snow on the ground, stomp my shoes in a patch of fresh, fluffy snow or gather up a snow ball to peg at someone's back.

Conclusion on snow: fun to look at, beautiful definitely but not so fun to walk in.

With the snow also came the drop in temperature. Regular get up for a stroll down the street:

* Stockings under leggings or jeans.

* Two pairs of socks and Nike kicks.

* Singlet, tucked into the stockings.

* Tshirt

* Thermal long sleeved top.

* 2 hoodies or other jumpers.

* Huge overcoat made out of sleeping bag material on the inside.

* Ear muffs/beanies

* Gloves (two in Stef's case)

* Scarf

Even then, knees, fingers and faces are frozen from the blistering cold, leaving my nose bright red and my hands numb.

This all being said, it's hard to let the cold get to you when there is so much to see and do. New York is beautiful and busy and exciting. Cold, yeah okay. But its only bad when you've got a long walk ahead of you. If you're getting the subway or a cab, or if you're heading into a warm pub or restaurant or shop...then it's only unbearable for a few minutes.

Yesterday, the coldest day of the year here, Stef decided was a good day to get me standing on the streets, eating a hot dog in a I Love NY tshirt for one of our shoots for Movement magazine. A TSHIRT. You have no idea the pain I went through. The stinging, blistering cold freezing me down to my bones. I have never been so cold in my entire life. Thank god Stef is amazingly talented and got the winning shot in a couple of minutes.

Last night we also ventured out of the apartment at night time. For the past couple of nights, we had just been getting absolutely plastered and staying in. Sunkist and vodka has become a standard in our diet as has old school house music and watching weird shit on YouTube.

Last night however, we decided to spend the money we usually would on eating out, on going out and instead cooked a pasta cabonara and salad.

Everyone eats later and goes out later here in NY so we didnt leave the apartment until quarter past 12 and met one of Sab's hot hook up guys got us into a club.

Cloak checking is a standard (for obvious reasons) as is old trust fund guys buying tables with Belvedere vodka and offering 10 or so random girls to join them.

The music and vibe was awesome- mix of old stuff (X gonna give it to you..) and new stuff and everyone was letting loose and dancing, unlike the clubs in L.A

We were smashed very quickly and after a few heavy dramas- (including as Stef vomiting in the gutter outside the club, before nearly falling headfirst into the snow/her own vomit)...we made it home by limo because there were no cabs available.

Dancing out the entire Vampire Weekend album back at the apartment (sorry neighbours) we finally hit the sack at 5am.

Today was a right off. Snow still covers the ground (day old snow is like walking through slushie's) and we have only made it out of the apartment for a Maccas run. The apartment is too warm and this bed is too cosy to even consider donning the 9 layers required to leave, even if we didnt feel like a bulldozer has run over us.

New York so far has been a joy. Everything I'd ever imagined it would be and more and there are still so many things on our list of things to do- not to mention the fact that Jess arrives here in a matter of hours.

For now, however, Sab is at a theatre production (All My Sons- the one with Katie Holmes in it) and Stef is hungry so we must begin the debate over wether to order in (everywhere delivers) or adventure outside....

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful....and since there's no place to go- let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

"You girls want a bong? Everyone needs a bong!"

Where our story last left off was the beautiful beaches of Puerto Escondido....a far away cry from the snow that now falls outside our New York apartment window.
But first, lets recap....

The night of my last blog, we had our first brush with the unfriendly side of Mexico that we had been hearing so much about.
Getting back to our villa and into bed with our books, we realised there was some drunken dude speaking Spanish having a little look-see into our bedroom.
After arming ourselves with scissors, flicking the lights off and getting down on the floor with deer-in-headlights eyes, our little friend bid us "Buenas noches" about a million times before stumbling away.
Realising the only thing keeping us from possibly being attacked was a flimsy sliding door, and that our lack of sim cards rendered us stupidly cut off from the world, was enough to scare us into deciding to find other accommodation for our last two nights in Mexico.
We decided to move across the road, infact right into Chris and Keiran's old room which at least felt familar...and high up off street level.

We stuffed our last days in Mexico full of Teresa juices (orange, pineapple, guava, strawberry=heaven) chicken burritos, cocktails and sun before it was sadly time to re-pack our backpacks and hop on another 12-hour coach ride.

We left Puerto at 6.30pm...arrived in Mexico City at 7am the next day...raced to the airport for our 9.25am flight back to L.A.
The bus ride was painful...out of the 12 hours, Stef managed to sleep about 10, leaving me purposely bumping her and sighing loudly in an effort to get her to wake up and play with me.
The flight was slightly less painful because by this stage, we were over tired and laughing at everything including the dribbling 12 year old with slicked back hair sitting next to us and the 3 pieces of rockmelon that was our breakfast. Thanks Aero Mexico! You shouldnt have!

Arriving in L.A felt strangely like coming home. Perhaps it was the urbanization, or the fact that we could communicate with the people around us....or maybe it was the smell of pollution in the air...regardless, we headed straight for McDonalds before heading back to David's in Encino.

First night back in L.A and of course, despite our lack of sleep during the past 328474 hours of being in transit, we decide to head out. Cocktails at David's followed by cocktails at Whiskey followed by warm sake at Nobu lead to our first celebrity sightings. A blonde gave Stef a funny look on her way to the bathroom- "Hey I know that chickohmygoditsKateHudson!"
Of course, I nearly wet my pants and we spent the next 15 mins waiting for her to come back through the doors, before realising she probably took some sneaky back exit to avoid the paparazzi out the front.
Not ten minutes later and a bored looking Nicky Hilton struts past me. I brace myself against the wall to stop myself from fainting while the others laugh and take pictures of me.
I HAD to chase her into the bathroom, which was awkward because she wasnt in a cubicle, but fixing herself at the sink and we were the ONLY ones in there. I panicked, went to go into a cubicle and then realised I didnt want Nicky Hilton hearing me pee so I backed out, washed my hands and then ran out.
Smooth Tully.
David had decided I had embarrassed him enough so we headed to Crown which is apparently the best place on a Wednesday night. The crowd of paparazzi out the front was a testimate to this, however they were disappointed when they realised we were no one.
Crown was dark, with lots of booths in dark corners to hide in and by now, we were seeing seven of everything so (thankfully) I was a little more aloof when Jack Osbourne and Matthew Perry strolled past me ever so casually.
Few more cocktails later and Stef lost her camera so we sensed it was time to go home....via. Mels Drive In for food.

Day 2 back in L.A and Stef and I decided to do some exploring of our own. We figured out the buses and managed to maneuver our way over to Venice Beach.
It was the nicest day it had been in L.A and we were excited be back so close to the ocean so we hired out two beach cruisers which are like bikes with huge mustache handlebars and white baskets on the front.
We rode along the beach front all the way to Santa Monica Pier which had a ferris wheel and a view out to the ocean.....not to mention a Bubba Gump Shrimp Resturant and a million souvenir stores.
We decided to ride back on the street side, past the hundreds of little market stores and stoners trying to make a living. There was everything from tiedye tshirts to bongs up for grabs...and the owners of the stalls were ten times more interesting than any of the fabulous people we had been hanging out with in Hollywood.
After returning our bikes we took our time going back down the strip of stalls and checking everything, and everybody, out- catching the most amazing sunset over the beach.
Stopped by 'Bondi BBQ' for a burger on the way home- the menu was hilarious. "The Shark Bite", "The Taronga Zoo"....we even had trouble ordering beetroot on our burger, apparently its just 'beet' over here.
The whole day had been so much fun and it felt good that we had found our own way there, independently and not with help from David and his Merc.
Stayed in that night as we were exhausted from all our bike riding and exploring.

The next day we were determined to continue finding our own way around so after catching a lift into downtown L.A with David on his way to work (including a photo by the infamous Beverly Hills sign) we figured out our way down to Melrose Ave. for possibly the BEST shopping we had yet to come across on our trip.
What started out as a couple of hours set aside for perusing, ended up as an entire day. Some of our favourites were the Teenage Millionaire store that was having a HUGE sale on some sick Obama is my Homeboy tee's and Aardvarks Odd which was the best stocked vintage/2nd hand shop I'd ever seen. We walked out of there with 1x tie dye tshirt, 1x Madison High cheerleading uniform (me) 1x UCLA basketball singlet and 1x perfect condition Adidas jacket (Stef). I literally had to drag myself out of there or I would have just kept finding treasures.

Waiting outside a shoe store while Stef tried on shoes, I was exhausted. Arms, heavy with shopping bags and feet sore from walking up and down Melrose, I slumped down against the outside of the store.
It was then I noticed the two VERY familar looking guys (and one huge black dude) walking up towards me. They were walking really slowly, like almost shuffling and had alot of jewelry on and it took me a while to figure out they were Joel and Benji Madden.
I think i might have pooed my pants a little.
I scrambled up, grabbing my shopping backs and tried to look as alluring as possible as they walked past me, one of them gave me a smile.
SHIT I thought, what if Nicole is waiting back in the car or something?
I resisted following them but I did run in and hyperventilate the story to Stef about 9 times.

Not wanting to have to inconvenience David by getting him to pick us up again, we decided to get a hostel room on Melrose ave for the night. It was far easier to do than we thought, and the room (we got a private room) was all futuristic and The Jetsons-styled. Plus we had a cool view out onto the the street and free breakie in the morning.
Despite me acquiring a raging fever sometime in the arvo, we decided to make a return visit to the Arclight movie theatre to see Australia. By the end of the movie, I was on fire and pretty much too sick to walk without Stef holding me.
We made our way back to the hostel and I went straight to bed- rambling ludacris fever talk until the hostel lady brought us up some Nurofen.

Oddly, I was 100% the next day as we made our way from Downtown L.A back up to Hollywood. Today was our last day in L.A and I had made Stef promise me long ago that we could do a Hollywood homes tour.
Luckily for us, it had been a slow day on the tour front so some dude offered us 2 tickets for $50 which was a really good deal considering the prices of some of the other tours.
An hour later and we were in our limo with 4 other Australians getting our photo taken infront of the Hollywood sign.
Other tour highlights included:
* The shop where Julia Roberts is told to leave in Pretty Woman.
* The church where they filmed Sister Act.
* LC and Lo's house from The Hills.
* The bush where Linds Lohan crashed her car and was caught with coke in her pants.
* Paris Hilton's house.
* The Playboy Mansion.
* Leonardo DiCaprio's house.
* The Beckham's house.

There were of course lots of others but some were more impressive than others...and apparently some werent impressive at all- Stef fell asleep in the limo.

After the tour we got burgers at Johnny Rockets before making our way back to David's in Encino. The plan WAS to have a big boozy dinner to celebrate our last night in L.A but David had eaten and we were exhausted, so instead we spent our last night in L.A re-packing our backpacks (near impossible) and doing some loads of washing.

5.30am the next morning and our cab had arrived. We both had different flights to N.Y (however left and arrived within half an hour of each other) so I worriedly said goodbye to Stef at terminal 6 at L.A.X (I'm always expecting a phone call saying she missed her flight) and made my way to terminal 4.
A stop over in St Louis and Ghost Town the movie, later and Stef and I were reunited once again.
We did the backpack dance and strapped ourselves in as we braced ourselves for the New York cold- suddenly, Puerto and our burritos felt very far away.

¿Dónde está el cuarto de baño?

Hola!

Apparently I sound like a sleaze whenever I say hola, probably because its most fun to say it in the same tone as Joeys (from Friends) "how you doin?"

Regardless, my Spanish vocab has improved somewhat and I can now say things such as "one water please" and "how much is it for 2 nights?"

I think the three "Please contact me!" emails from my worrywart father is enough of an indication that since arriving in Puerto Escondido, Mexico- we havent had (or wanted) a spare second to sit down in a smelly, out of date internet cafe. Have you SEEN pictures of this place?

The 12 hour bus trip from Mexico City was, and wasnt, everything we had been warned about;

YES it was freezing cold and air conditioned, kudos for the heads up Chris and thanks Kate for the sleeping bag suggestion.

NO we did not get stopped and robbed by a machette laden group of Mexicans.

Some suprises however were;

• The lack of a food stop (lucky we had 2 packets of chips and a packet of MnMs to share for 12 hours)
• The fact that they disabled the reading lights so that we were in complete darkness from 8pm, I assume so that you cant disturb people trying to sleep, however they blasted three Spanish movies through all the overhead speakers.
• The family of 5 sharing the two seats behind us. Nothing like a quick hair tug at 2am in the morning when you have JUST dozed off.
• The smell of the toilets being recirculated via the aircon.
• The pimped out leg rests and reclining seats- way better than any coach Ive been on in Aus.
• Despite this, again I was unable to get much sleep. First I was freezing and then my ears were on fire. Comfortable, then stiff.
• Being woken up at around 5am because our driver was doing 200 round the bends and I had been literally thrown off my seat onto the floor.
• Watching the sunrise over the Mexican desert and catching glimpses of random Mexican towns in the morning= breathtaking.
• Pulling up to one of these shanty looking towns and having our bus driver yell "PUERTO!"

Not too sure what I was expecting but the bus depot left a bit to be desired. Starting to get the familiar feeling of "fuck-I-think-we-have-bitten-off-more-than-we-can-chew" we once again negotiate a price and hop in a cab sans seatbelts.

I shouldnt have worried. Pulling up to our accomodation (pictured, Villa Casalet) and it was clear this was the heart of Puerto. Everything you have ever associated with Mexico was right in front of me. The cacti, the brightly painted concrete walls, the pink, orange and yellow boganvillia, the arch shaped windows and walkways...all of a sudden the bus trip seemed entirely worth it.

Eager to meet up with birthday boy, Chris, we went nextdoor to his accomodation only to find a very brown and very skinny blonde walking up the street. After some quick hellos and happy birthdays and ohmygodweareallinmexicos, Chris went to do what most people come to Puerto to do-surf the Mexican Pipeline.

Smelling like bus and dirty t-shirts, Stef and I were more than happy to get back to our villa for a shower (cold) and change of clothes. Our place looked out onto the cacti garden and further than that, the beach. The atmosphere is so relaxed, even I am starting to slow down.

Vegetarian burritos and a famous Puerto fruit juice later and we had met the rest of the Aussie (and one Swiss) crew, Kiz (friend of Chris), Ryan (Adelaide), Jacko (Perth), Brendan (Avalon) and the woman of a million languages, Swiss and only other girl, Sara. Chris had met the guys in other Mexican cities and they had all ended up here together.

Having been here for a while, the others had decided to get a bus up to some town in the mountans and above the clouds, however Stef and I were keen to get as far away from transport as possble, so we opted for a cheeky 4 hour nap and beach walk at sunset instead.

Day two was spent lounging around our pool which is ridiculously beautiful. We also successfully attempted a trip into town to use the closest ATM, after trying to sign "money machine" to at least 3 poor Mexican resturant owners.

The mountain go-ers got back just in time for dinner and some cocktails. Everything here is a quarter of the price in Sydney. Cocktails are $4 AUS dollars, burritos are $2, Absolut Vodka is $20, Coronas $2...it makes it easy to feel like you are getting ripped off if you are asked to pay 50 pesos for something.

There are stray and sickly looking dogs EVERYWHERE that hang around the resturants staring at you with pleading eyes, live wires strewn across the road, 15kg coconut cocktails that involves a hollowed out coconut filled with rum, vodka, coconut juice and tequila, jolly Mexican bar staff that remind me of characters from Lilo and Stitch, a million bronzed/high surfers using words like "frothin", smiley little kids shoving bracelets in your face, chili salsa and cornchips served with every meal, police riding on top of trucks with rifles and narrowed eyes, white beaches, turqoise waters, palm trees.....did I mention the beauty of this place is breathtaking?

Day three consisted of a day trip to the beach about ten minutes up the bay, Playa Carrizalillo. Down (and back up) a flight of 182 stairs was my idea of heaven. Crystal clear waters, hardly any people and luke warm FLAT surf. Suddenly the margarita hangover from the night before was a distant memory. We swam, ate fresh prawns and lay in hammocks until we realised what a hard day we had just endured and made our way back to Zicatela where we decided on beach cocktails by sunset, dinner and more cocktails. The night ended with a rampage down the main strip on a hunt for more vodka before we all realised it was 4am and we had all probably had enough.

Day four was spent vomittng. For me at least. Apparently my three years of drinking at Bathurst hadnt given me the tolerance i had thought...either that or the "Coco Loco" was a bad idea. By 2pm and after a wake up dip in the pool I was keeping down water and things were looking up...until I realised it was goodbye time for Chris and Kiz; we will always have burritos and Puerto boys.

More pool lounging, some pasta and ZERO cocktails later and here i am- some dogey internet cafe wth flickering fluro lights, computers as old as me and a sign that says "Por Favor Pague En Reception."We are here till the 8th before we make our grand journey back to Mexico City and then to L.A for the last three days of our Californian adventure.

Ill add pics as soon as I get to a computer that has a working space bar.

Buenos tardes!

HOLA!...thats all i got

Our stunning view outside our window.

10.30am and I wake Stef up with a friendly reminder that we have to be at the airport in an hour and a half.
If you know me, you know Stef...and if you know Stef, you know she
A) HATES to be hurried and
B) Rarely actually quickens her pace.
She therefore decided to leisurely get up, pack her bag and then by the time I was ready to leave…hopped in the shower.
**this is stef. In my defence.. tully made me butcher my legs in the shower . I was hurrying so fast that they bled and I had to attend to them hours later after they were even further injured by my bag rubbing. Chafe.
(EDITORS NOTE- I just pushed Stef away from the keyboard and she fell back and crushed a chair that belongs to this poor senoritas internet café. We will probably have to pay $5,000 pesos for that.)
As I was saying…Stef then proceeded to take her sweet time in the shower and as such, poor David who was feeling sick had to drive us to the airport instead of us getting a cab because we would have missed our flight.

A confusing check in later and it becomes very very clear that we are not prepared for the language barrier that is going to smack us in the face the moment we arrive in Mexico.
The plane ride was only 3 hours and not as bad as we had expected- however getting out of the airport was another story.
After making it through customs (after only a small panic attack that some crazy Mexican gang had stolen our backpacks) we left the airport, only to be absoultly bombarded and harassed by a million Mexicans trying to convince us to hop in their sorry excuse for a cab.
Stef had done some dectective work on the plane so we knew which company to trust, however first we would need to convert out USD into Pesos.
By this time it is 7.45pm at night, we have lost most of the day to time zones and traveling, I am scared, Stef is hungry and we have nothing of the local currency.
A trip to the ATM results in me realizing I hadn’t transferred any of my savings into my streamline and Stef realizing her special travel cash card doesn’t work in Mexico.
This is going to be fun.

Finally, we got some cash and arranged with the cab company to take us to a cheap hotel near the bus stop for $200 pesos which, thanks to our ignorance, could be a lot or could be a good deal. Despite our ideal plans being to hop on a bus straight from the airport, thus not having to spend a night in Mexico city- our language problems, bad organizing and time getting out of the airport has meant that we had missed all the night buses.
All part of the experience right?

The cab ride through Mexico City is dangerous and scary. There are no lanes and no seatbelts. The car stereo blares foreign music and the car doors are locked the instant some shady characters in hoodies walk up trying to sell roses.
Still, the lights, smells and colours are enough to keep Stef and I grinning from ear to ear.
While L.A was crazy, it could have been any big city. This is probably the first time I have felt truly far from home.

The hotel was something out of a late night SBS porno. Creeper vines, fake marble flooring and mirrors on the roof almost have a feel of a grand hotel from the 60s that was abandoned, and then re-inhabited by our current Mexican friends.
Again, our lack of Spanish causes confusion as we try to request ONE room with a double bed for the two of us.
The price ($685 pesos) seems like a lot, and when we get up stairs there are two double beds, further cementing our original thought that no one had any idea what the other was saying downstairs in the lobby.

Stef and I crack up at our surroundings. The walls are covered in green stucco, there are mirrors covering one wall and a beautiful painting between the two beds. The basin is in the main room and the toilet and shower remind me of my primary schools locker room.
The lock on our door also reminds me of my primary school, as it is about as advance as your everyday cubicle lock.

Stef and I, entertaining ourselves in our pimpin hotel room.

Starving, we secretly attached our money belts and head downstairs to the restaurant. The friendly bell boy from before is also the maitre de AND our waiter for this evening waiter.
There is a tv playing Spanish cartoons for our entertainment and we are brought out our complimentary entrée of bread rolls, pure chili salsa, a plate of limes and 4 crackers in a packet.
I try and ask if the salsa is spicey, he shakes his head and says no.
I try some.
And again, curse the language barrier as I try and cool down my molten hot mouth with the limes. Is that what they are for?
We order from the single English menu (spag bol and the club sandwich plus two cokes) and our waiter seems sad we didn’t order a beer.
The cokes arrive and we realize we should have asked for no ice…this constant feeling of fucking up weighs on me, and again I curse not being more prepared…a Loneley Planet guide on Mexico at the very least.

Food is good and we pay, before asking if we will get raped walking down the road to the 7-11. He laughs.
Regardless, Stef demands I put my big black hood on and try and hide my obvious blonde locks.
I almost break into a run and demand that Stef not leave my side as we stock up on foreign versions of our favourites.

Making it back to the hotel safely, we lock our door and Stef shoves a table up against the handle just for extra precaution.
We are relieved to find some English channels on the tv, one with especially good reception. Just my luck, however, that the movie screening on this one fantastic channel is Anaconda.
We instead attempt to watch The Pursuit of Happiness that has English picture, but some cross contamination of a Spanish station, making it almost impossible to concentrate on the movie.

A couple of Law and Order episodes later and we are out like a light.

The resturant.

The next day my alarm goes off bright and early at 7am, as per our plan to try and get the first available bus to Puerto Escondido so that we are there tonight.
Its unexpectedly chilly as we re pack and head down to the restaurant for our complimentary breakfast of what looks like, a curry, some rice, wedges, grey looking scrambled eyes, orange DRINK, not juice but drink…and of course, bread.

Stef enjoying some grey eggs on bread and orange drink.

We begrudgingly put on our backpacks again performing again the *backpack dance* where you pick up one shoulder strap and throw it over your back, alternatively hopping from side to side, sticking your bum out trying to get the back to sit on your back properly all the while making appropriate grunting noises before clipping the heavy load to our already bruised hips.

The hotel organizes us a cab to Tasquena Station for another $200 pesos and this time we KNOW we are being ripped off, however our options are limited so we choose to indulge them.
This cab driver speaks a bit of English and goes through Mexico by states, listing all the attractions we should visit.

Arriving at the bus station and it becomes obvious this isn’t a line-up-and-hop-on-the-next-bus-in-ten-minutes affair. There are lots of people, almost all of them Mexican and lots of different bus companies, not all of them going to Puerto Escondido.
We find four that are, however the earliest bus is at 7pm and it slowly hits us that this station will be our home for roughly the next ten hours.
We opt for the 7.45 bus because apparently its slightly more modern, buy our tickets and pray to god there is a internet café.

One section of the bus station we will call home.

As you can see, there is one. A great, modern, heated one. We have been in here on booths 38 and 37 since we bought our tickets this morning and it is now 3.33pm.
We did venture out once, to get food and ended up with some horrible nachos with fluro orange liquid dipping cheese so we have since withdrawn back to the safe haven of Facebook and Hotmail.

We picked the safest option for our bus station lunch.

With a 15 hour bus trip, reunion with birthday boy Chris Peck and lots of hot Mexican sunshine…there is bound to be plenty more to write very soon.

Oh and watch out for the beggers!

The view out my window as we come into L.A

Despite the seven different farewell celebrations, I’m not sure it actually hit me until I unpacked my little Qantas goodie bag, complete with stylish grey eye mask, bed socks, lanyard and earphones.

What the fuck was I about to do?

I looked around the cabin, smiling hugely at anyone who would make eye contact- desperate for someone else to understand my growing excitement and nervousness. Sadly, everyone seemed to be totally bored with the whole process and far more interested in getting some shut eye.
As I read through the menu I realised to my horror I would only be getting two meals the entire 15 hour trip…a lunch in about and hour and a dinner three hours before landing. As a constant snacker, a wave of panic rushed over me until I remembered the giant bag of MnMs and Werthers Originals I had safely tucked in my carry on luggage.
Despite being, (of course) totally over prepared with activities to keep me occupied for the remainder of the flight, I can honestly say I did not pick up a book or even pop in my Ipod. Each seat had their own tv screen and remote, as well as what seemed like endless channels to choose from. My flight could have been three or four times as long and I still wouldn’t have made a dent on the programming. Over the 15 hours I watched the following-
• Step Brothers
• Wanted
• A third of Mama Mia before I turned it off in disgust.
• Brideshead Revisited
• Sex and the City Movie
• Family Guy
• Summer Heights High
• Kath and Kim
• Christina Aguilera in her Back to Basics tour
• A documentary on love and adultery in the online world of Second Life.
• A travel program on L.A
• And the flight path simulation about a hundred times, getting a kick out of seeing the little animated plane move slowwwwly further away from AUS and closer to L.A

The first meal came and I woofed the creamy chicken pesto dish with a side of greek salad and my two cokes down before remembering it was another 10 hours or so before I would get to eat again.
As I wriggled around trying in vain to get comfortable enough to sleep, I cursed my overexcited self all those months ago who, when asked by the Qantas lady which seat Id prefer I screamed WINDOWWWWWW!
Im not sure what was more painful, trying to cozy up against a ice cold window or keeping a full bladder so that I didn’t disturb my two unfriendly seat buddies.

As the sun rose up over the world and my plane came to its descent, a new wave of nervousness hit as I remembered my first task in the US was to tackle LAX, alone..until Stefs plane landed 3 hours after mine.
Smiling my way through customs and immigration, I asked the loud LAX helper in the funny hat which way Maccas was. Oops I meant McDonalds.
After pointing me in the right direction and warning me about the beggars outside, she looked at me funny. Was I meant to tip her for that?
Despite hearing all the stories, nothing prepared me for the Americans. Loud, pushy and overweight, they weren’t very helpful when it came to sorting out quarters and pennies. I also seemed to be the only blonde in about an 8mile radius, which I wasn’t prepared for either.
I was told by an American boy in the McDonalds line that I looked exotic and after telling him where I was from he nodded to himself and said Yeah see exotic!
Not yet brave enough to tackle some of the US Maccas menu options (such as the pictured Cinnamon melts that looked like someone had jizzed all over your breakfast) I opted for a hashbrown and small coke. The small, is the same as a large in the AUS. This was only my first taste of the USAs love of super sizing their food.

Cinnamon Melts from McDonalds. Yummo.

A quick internet café stop later and it was time to go collect Stef. David, the guy we are staying with in L.A rocked up a bit before Stef arrived and he told me his grand plans for our stay in the States.
Apparently he didn’t feel we would get the true Hollywood experience JUST by staying with him in Encino, so he had booked us in for two nights at the famous Roosevelt Hotel. All. Expenses. Paid.
I didn’t have time to pick my jaw up off the ground because I spotted my favourite mop walking through the doors and ran to tackle her with my excitement.
3 hours alone in LAX had been a bit of an anti climax for the start of my adventure.

Stef and I loaded our ginormous backpacks into Davids Mercedes and overwhelmed the poor man with questions and photos. He seemed amused that we found the slightest thing fascinating…fire hydrants, LAPD cars, highway signs…I felt kind of bad. Here he was, trying to impress these two Aussie chicks by putting them up in an old school Hollywood hotel and we were just as excited for the blue mailboxes.

Stef, excited about the cop cars.

First L.A observation, L.A drivers are fucking crazy. Indicators apparently aren’t necessary, and you drive full ball right up the other cars asses until you do a swift lane change. I was fearing for my life and nearly kissed the ground once we got to Davids.

Pulling up to Davids in Encino.

His house was amazzzzing. Art hanging from each wall, brand spanking new stainless steel kitchen, pool, steam room and best of all…A BED.

Davids kitchen.

On the suggestion of David, we had a quick 2 hour nap so that we had enough energy for his plans later on.
2 hours later and I was preying for 2 more hours. Anxious to keep the jet lag at bay, I pulled out a crumpled dress, splashed on some make up and packed an overnight bag for the hotel.
Driving down Hollywood Blvd. was something I had only imagined of doing. The palm trees, lights, landmarks were all straight out of the movies. I jumped in excitement at the movie star impersonators littering the street outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre, fumbling to get out my camera until David informed us most of them were junkies or homeless people who make money by getting tourists to take their picture with them.
Crap. Everything looks better in the movies.

The Roosevelt.

The Roosevelt (http://www.hollywoodroosevelt.com) was amazing. Stef and I couldn’t believe this guy, who we had only met once or twice briefly when he was visiting a friend in Sydney, was paying for us to stay at such a Hollywood icon. Marilyn Monroe used to have a regular suite overlooking the pool, and LC from The Hills swims at the pool every Sunday.

David & I by the Roosevelt pool.

We dumped our bags in the room and headed out to our first stop for the night, Cabo Cantina for monster nachos and sangria.
Our next stop had a bucking bull for patrons to try their luck with, as well as mountains and mountains of fake snow and Christmas decorations. David wanted us to get a feel for the tacky side of L.A before we hit up the swanky places later on.

Sangria at Cabo.

Stef amazedslashconfused with the American dollars.

Stop number three was prestigious Sky Bar (http://www.mondrianhotel.com/mondrian_hotel_skybar.asp) where it was quite obvious this had been the inspiration behind Sydneys, The Ivy. The pool, the cabanas and even the pot plants on the wall all looked very familiar. What wasn’t familiar however, was the sprawling view of L.A at night. Despite the layer of smog, it was definitely breathtaking.
Two champagnes later and we were off again to some secret bar underneath a hotel where one of Davids friends made us a cocktail that was frothy, creamy and potent all at the same time.

Drunken and loving it.

By the time we got to the main event (Koi)- Stef and I were hammered. We collapsed down on the cream lounges and got straight into the $500 bottle of Sake while I celebrity stalked to see if any of my Who magazine favourites were around. David ordered a selection from the menu including the shrimp tempura (shrimp=prawns) which just melted in your mouth.
Third and final bar of the night was the Roosevelts own bar, Teddys, where we danced up a storm with some L.A male models until evil jet lag finally took over.

Sunset Blvd at....sunset?

Day two was a struggle. David had a triathlon to train for so we would be on our own for the next 48 hours. After finally dragging our amazingly hangover and jetlagged bodies out of the most comfortable sheets ever, we decided to do some of our own exploring of Hollywood Blvd.

Me touching Marilyn Monroe and about 1000000 peoples dirty feet.

Flashing lights flashing lights!

Some of our observations included-
• One meal is enough and then some, for the both of us.
• Japanese and sushi especially is amazing everywhere you try it in L.A
• Star Tours will shove a pamphlet in your hands even if you say no thanks.
• Beggers can get cocky and like to approach you when you are in the middle of lunch, sitting down with no where to go.
• American Apparel is more expensive over here, go figure.
• Tipping is vital but easily forgotten.
• Burgers are everywhere but try finding a salad, fruit or anything healthy and you are at a lost.
• Redbull cans come in super size.
• Condoms and razors are kept in glass cages in supermarkets.
• If a cab has its light on, it means its taken, which is the opposite of Sydney cabs and thus very very confusing.
• If you want to sit down at a table in a club, you have to BUY it. For example you buy a $300 bottle of vodka and get the table, your own bar tender, security guard and free chasers all night. We realised David must have been buying tables all night last night and we had no idea. Fuck.
We decide to chill out for the night and decide to see Twilight because its already out over here and that’s a novelty for us haha.

Arclight tickets to Twilight!

After trecking up and down Sunset Blvd, we finally find the Arclight and catch the 7.25pm session. We get a small popcorn and are offered butter….what? You mean EXTRA butter? No thanks!
A cab ride home, some American tv and raid of the bar fridge later and we are exhausted.

Relaxing in our hotel room with a bit of HBO.

Day three in L.A got off to a slower start as jet lag finally consumed our bodies, rendering us catatonic until 12pm. We met David down by the hotel pool before checking out and heading to L.As version of Oxford st. Lots of attractive men with little dogs, however a sad lack of The L Word cast members which I was disappointed about.

Japanese lunch on the gay street of L.A

After some more exploring of places such as celebrity favourite, Roberston Blvd and main shopping centre, The Beverly Centre, we hit up Barneys Beans for some beer and football. The place looked like a cross between a sports bar, Hogsbreath and Hard Rock Cafe and there were people and tv screens EVERYWHERE.

Barneys Beans for grid iron...although apparently no one calls it that anymore.

It was so loud and overwhelming I nearly cried but it was defiantly an American experience.
By now it was dark, so we headed back to David’s and all decided to have another quiet night. David was exhausted from his triathlon and we were buggered from all our exploring.
Besides, we had a plane to catch tomorrow.