The next week I went over to another friend of mine’s house, Kim, who’d I’d met on the horse ranch and her very hospitable family put up not only me but also 3 of the guys from the horse ranch too. We had the most awesome time ever and while I saw more of Sydney by night than I did by day I think i thoroughly ‘did’ the sunny city well!

Kings Cross became out main haunt and we spent most nights drinking our way into the wee hours of the morning. On one particularly drunken one out we ended up in a strip joint which we all found quite amusing; the girls were actually pretty awful and I, of course, keep trying to persuade the staff to let me up on stage tovshow them what a real pole dance was! I wasn’t allowed though, spoil sports. We eventually got a bit bored and we were just about to leave when I decided to march up to one of the guys with us who was getting friendly with a stripper and shout ‘oh my god – you b*sterd! What did I tell you about strippers!’ I then slapped him round the face and stomped off out the bar to the tune of all our lot falling about in hysterics! 

The highlight of the week with Kim was definitely New Years Eve. Watching the fireworks on Darling Harbour with cheap champagne in hand with my new firm friends I realised just how amazing my trip had been so far and how far I’d come. Flying out to Thailand a couple of days later was actually quite sad, especially when I had to say goodbye to another friend, also called Vicky, who had emigrated to Oz 108 months ago but on the upside my trip to Oz had been so so damn good it had far exceeded any of my expectations

So, right after the horse ranch jolly I jumped on a coach at Tamworth and headed for my next adventure which was to start in Byron Bay.  Getting there wasn’t too bad. 14 hours on a coach; the Greyhound service is pretty good although you should be warned that they drive like lunatics. I found that out the hard way when trying to sleep across two seats he jammed the brakes on and I promptly flew into the foot well.  

Having heard quite a lot about Byron I was pretty excited to get down there. I was joining a good mate of mine, Vicky, and we were hooking up with a 5 day surf school which was taking us down to Sydney. Unfortunately we only ended up in Byron for one night so I can’t really say much about it – especially as I was a bit lame and went to bed early cos the coach journey mullered me. 

Anyway, before I actually met any real ‘surfer dudes’ I have to say I had a pretty fixed image in my head of what they would be like. Lean, tanned, blonde scruffy haired boy who said things like ‘relax dude’ and ‘awesome man that surf is sweet’. I was not disappointed. 

At 10am on the  day we were met by the crew of Waves Surf School. One of the bigger schools in the area and run by a band of motley surfer dudes with names like ‘scrappy joe’ ‘dumpster’ and scuba steve’. As soon as we got on the bus I knew it was going to be a fun trip; first we had to stop off and pick up scrappy who was still asleep in a parking lot somewhere after a heavy night out and then once we had got scrappy on board he gave us a little pep talk which went something like ‘now… listen guys… it’s real hot and the sun, that’s real hot too. so remember man the sun is a criminal and it should like, be in jail. even when it’s behind the clouds it’s out to get you yeah.’ 

Don’t get me wrong by the way – this isn’t criticism – on the contrary we had an awesome time with the surf dudes and despite the fact that I was rubbish at the surfing itself I would definitely do it again.

And yes that’s right, I’m soooo bad at surfing. I did ok the first day but the more hungover I got throughout the week (which is hardly my fault given the company right?) the worse I got. I nose dived, face planted and washing machined in the waves so many times I eventually gave up and decided I was far better off using the board to lie on on the beach. Vicky, sorry babe, was even worse, after day 1 she gave up even taking a board down to the beach. To be fair they are very heavy. Best way to carry them is on your head if you ever give it a go.

What Vicky and I did both excel in however, unsurprisingly, was the drinking games. The more ridiculous the better and we more than succeeded in up-holding the pommie reputation for being alcoholics.

And erm, thugs too. Not intentionally may I add! I was in a drinking game which was basically musical chairs but they would shout out a task and you had to run and do it then come back and grab a chair. There were 3 of us left and while running a lap around the pool I was suddenly grabbed from behind by some french girl who shoved me out of her way on to the floor – well I wasn’t having any of that and as she was just about to jump in the last chair I shoulder barged her out of my way and victoriously sat down – I honestly didn’t realise quite how hard I’d shoved her until I looked round and saw her practically rolling back out the door of the bar and then tuned into a load of people shouting ‘dude! I can’t believe you just did that! that was AWESOME man!’  – i felt quite bad actually so afterwards I went to say sorry for being so rough, she accepted gracefully and it seemed the bridge was being built until someone knocked my elbow and my pint went straight down her top…. she wouldn’t even look at me after that – oh well some friendships are just not to be I guess!

Anyways – the whole trip was AWESOME dude so I would definitely recommend it. Got to see some beautiful beaches away from the crowds and got to drink, a lot. What more could you want??

So, it’s been about a month since my last post and what an eventful month it’s been… I’m actually in Bangkok now but I should probably update a little on my ozzie adventures first. (I’m also very hungover so please excuse the sloppy writing style and anything that doesn’t make sense…).

Anyway – Just after I last blogged I headed down to work on a horse ranch for ten days. Leconfield, which is about 40km outside of Tamworth (the back of beyond basically), is owned by an 86 year old guy called Brian Skerritt. Brian set the place up decades ago to teach young jillarroo and jackaroo (that’s cowgirl/boy to you and me) wannabees the tricks of the trade and to help them find work in the industry. Needless to say I wasn’t looking for work but it was an awesome experience.

I learnt how to muster cattle, tag calves, crack a whip (almost), milk cows, fix fences and lasso stuff (mostly the ground to be fair….). We also got to assist in the castrating of the bulls, well we watched anyway, and we were given the opportunity to choose which bull’s balls we wanted for dinner that night. I politely declined but most of the men got heavily involved in selecting the biggest bulls and had them fried that night with their stew ( I reckon Freud would have a field day with that).A few people did ask why I didn’t want to try them – I said that normally I’m the first to try anything new but I’ve had enough bollocks in my life without having to eat a bull’s. The other students in my school were awesome by the way and we had a grand old-time working hard during the day and getting drunk round the campfire at night. I think it’s safe to say I’ve made some life long friends there and can’t wait for our Leconfield reunions in the future!

On a slightly negative note I did find the horse riding style a little odd – a hybrid of English and American I suppose. English saddles (which seems for strange for mustering no?) with the American bridged method of holding the reins (which we had to hold on to with 2 hands for safety reasons…). It was also a bit annoying that the alpha female (who was an ex student who had got it together with the lead farm manager) had only been riding for about ten months as having been riding for near on 22 myself I did expect an instructor with more genuine experience. She was by all accounts an excellent horse rider don’t get me wrong – but it did  a bit when she barked at me to get both hands on the reins ‘because you’re student and you’re learning so it’s safer’. As you can imagine I had to bite my tongue quite a lot….

Anyway aside from that the whole experience was fantastic and I would definitely recommend it to anyone that wants to get an alternative taste of oz rather than just the coast. Book through them directly if you can as it’s cheaper (http://www.leconfieldjackaroo.com/). If you can’t commit to 10 days they do a 5 day school too.

Right got to go get me Pad Thai – will follow this up tomorrow and not leave it so long this time!

Bounced into Brisbane on Wednesday with the worst jetlag imaginable – to say I was zombie-fied would be an understatment. In the first 24 hours I managed to lock myself out of my room twice and when I was told we were having meat pie for dinner I went around saying ’oooo meat pie Monday my favourite!’ and didn’t realise for hours that it was actually Wednesday…

Anyhow – my first port of call was a great little hostel called the Kookuburra Inn. I would definitely recommend it to anyone as although it’s not the liveliest place in Brisbane the couple that run it are so so sweet and did everything they could to help my intro to Oz go smoothly.

One of things they did help me do was organise a trip to Fraser Island – If you visit this end of Oz you simple have to get over there. I headed out with a tour group of 9 and we bounced around the island in a four wheel drive for two days visiting lakes and beaches and rainforests which looked like they’d stepped right out of the setting for lord of the rings or something.

That said, Brisbane itself is really a beautiful city – I can already see why so many people want to emigrate here!

Yesterday, having a day to kill before heading down south I took myself up to Lone Pine – a koala sanctuary about a 30 bus ride out of Brisbane. It was the cutest place imaginable – I go to cuddle koala’s, feed kangeroos and avoid emus (I just think they look evil – no way I’m petting one of those….).

My time in Brisbane unfortunately went all too quickly though and so last night I jumped on a greyhound bus down to Tamworth where I’m about to go and play cowgirl.

Tomorrow morning I’m being picked up and taken out to a ranch in the outback – I’ll be shearing sheep, mustering cattle and cracking whips in no time (hopefully!). With no internet connection or phone signal it’ll be more than a little strange though, I’ve never been that cut off from the world and I think I’m already getting withdrawal symptoms!

I should probably confess that being a cowgirl has been a lifelong dream… ever see Thelma and Louise? You remember that scene with Brad Pitt? Well let’s just say it’s a good job I’m not single because that was easily the catalyst for my entire sexual awakening… think I might just have to bring back one of those cowboy hates for the boyfriend….

Ups, downs… it’s all been absolutely amazing and I honestly don’t think I would change a thing because every experience both good and bad has made this trip the most memorable of my life. (so far – I still have Oz and South East Asia ahead of me of course!).

I guess given this is the end of the African adventure I should make some kind of summary or something. Well, my last few days were fantastic. I had a little farewell party at the orphanage on my last evening complete with games for the kids and their favorite dinner; pilau. (a rice dish with tomatoes beef and onions – possibly my favorite Kenyan dish too).

A couple of the other volunteers chipped in as well so we really pushed the boat out and even had little fairy cakes with candles for afters. The kids kept singing ’happy birthday to Sara’ despite my protests which I found really cute. Trying to get them to get the gist of the game ’musical statues’ was even cuter; I think they thought I had lost the plot when I kept freezing in odd positions when the music stopped. Eventually they got the idea though. One of the youngest, Ndungu, decided after a few unsuccessful rounds the best way to win would be to adopt a poker straight soldier stance while staring up with huge bug eyes trying not to blink; absolutely adorable!

Unsurprisingly it was pretty heart wrenching saying good bye. I’ve come so attached to each and everyone of the children it seems very hard to think I won’t be seeing them for a long long time now. Leaving school was also awful. The teachers made me a full Kenyan outfit with linen trousers, a kaftan, head wrap and kanga – it was awesome but made me want to cry like a baby!

Still, my time has been amazing and I do feel ready to move onto the next adventure. Mombasa, particularly Likoni where I was working, is a very intense place and the mix of emotions really does take it out of you.

I love that I had to opportunity to live with the locals and work alongside some of the most inspirational people I have ever met and I still hold the view that it is a place of extremes; it is both beautiful and obscene, inspiring and heart wrenching, rich but so so poor. That’s what makes it Mombasa though and that’s probably what will keep me coming back here for many many years to come.

In conclusion then; poley poley – TIA.

Anyway, as I was saying, it has been such a manic week and, the longer I am here, the more I begin to realise I have entered a real love/hate relationship with Mombasa.

On the one hand it is full of sights and sounds and experiences I could really do without. Last week I was thrown off a bus because I am a ‘muzongu’ and I refused to pay the quadruple price they try to charge unsuspecting tourists. It’s happened a few times now; I’ve relented to getting a different bus instead.

We also had another mugging incident. This time it was significantly worse however; three of us were waiting for the matatu and out of nowhere a man grabbed at one of the girls and pulled her phone from her pocket. There was a bit of a struggle, I tried to jump in to help as did the third girl and he did run off but two seconds later a second man rushed in and snatched the phone from the floor where the girl had managed to secure it with her foot.

It all happened very quickly and it was to be honest quite traumatic as it was much more violent than previous times. The volunteer whose phone it was had bashed her lip so there was a little blood too and she was by all accounts practically hysterical from the shock. It was not a nice afternoon and perhaps the worse thing of all was that no one had tried to help. They just stood and watched.

The whole event left me absolutely fuming to be honest – I come here to help but get treated like this. That said, once I had calmed down I had to acknowledge that people desperate enough to do that must be living in shocking conditions and in tight knit villages is it really any wonder no one helped when it means there could be food on the table that night? Needless to say I am now even more careful and the teachers at school have taken to escorting us when possible.

So, that’s explains one part of my love/hate relationship and for people at home it must seem odd as to why I would want to be here. Well, here’s a small example – today I decided to sponsor one of the children in my school. He’s 9, while the rest of my kids are about 6, but has only just come to school because his mother is too poor to send him.

Today during class my lad managed for the first time to shout out the right words when I asked the class what words begin with ‘B’, and then, afterwards he had finally begun to be able to read the four and five letter words – when I arrived he was struggling with words of two letters. I felt like a mother hen and it was all I could do not to give him a huge hug! I settled for a high five instead :0)

I’ve just ordered his school uniform – until now he’s the only one not wearing it because his mother couldn’t afford it. I can’t wait to see him in it tomorrow; not even being thrown off the bus again will outweigh that one!

When I came here last month I originally wanted to get involved with the street kids like I did before but my time has been taken up at Twaayf and so now, half way through, it seems unlikely I’ll be able to give that a real shot. Having found a boy in the school that really needs my help though has shown me that sometime you don’t have to go out looking for someone to help; they are right there in front of you to start off with. A valuable lesson I think and another reason why I can’t help but love this place; valuable lessons seems to hit me in the face practically everyday.

If anyone reading this is interested in sponsoring one of the kids by the way; it would cost you about 50 pounds a year to guarantee a year’s education… I used to spend that in a night out. Oh – and while I’m on the subject ; we really need new mattresses in the orphanage – if you fancy doing a good deed plleeaasseeee don’t hesitate to get in touch!!

Until next blog – Kwe Heri!

There are as you may or may not be aware a lot of for and against arguments over young westerners heading out to developing parts of the world to do short term volunteer work. Are the volunteers taking a local person’s job for example? or are they really skilled enough to take the role of teacher/builder/carer? is the role they are filling a sustainable role or will the project be left short/worse off once the volunteer leaves again?

I, obviously, think volunteering is a good thing. I won’t go into the whole debate now but essentially I think we westerners do have something to offer and it is part of a big two way process – we benefit from our experiences – they, hopefully, benefit from whatever skills it is we can offer.

But, and here’s the problem, there are a few volunteers that give the rest of us a bad name.

When you volunteer you have to have a few things: patience, tolerance and, most of all, a real desire to help the people you are meeting and understand they can enrich your life as much as you can theirs, just in a different way.

I have met two volunteers this week who have really got my goat. They seem to think this is some kind of holiday camp and when they discovered they were expected to teach a class of kids they complained that that was ‘not what they had paid for’. Well excuse me but I thought what you paid for was to come and help in a community and surely if that means getting stuck into some teaching then that’s what you do?

Volunteering does not mean strolling in and expecting to play with children all day. Children go to school all day in the UK/USA- so why would you think otherwise here?

A couple of others refused to do office work. But office work is where the project needs the help. They apparently are not too fussed about that – they want to do the fun stuff like singing and dancing with the kids – so who cares what the project needs right?

Wrong. Volunteering is about helping a project or community in the areas THEY need you to. It’s about being flexible and adapting and sometimes just sucking it up and giving things a shot even if they scare you (teaching can be scary let’s be fair!).

No one expects you to clean toilets all day – but if you choose volunteering as part of your gap year/life experience then put your heart and soul into and do it properly. Remember – it’s a two way thing.

I also got pickpocketed – although the pickpocketer obviously hadn’t done his homework on potential victims because I clocked him straight away, grabbed him by the arm, had a little tussle and got the phone back!

I’ve had to get used to being called a MUZONGU (white person!) every two seconds again- even children shout it at you on the street! It’s not meant in a threatening or nasty way but it does get very tiring.

I have, again as expected, seen some pretty dire sights too. The worst being a man who had had his leg amputated left lying unconscious on the pavement with blood oozing from the bandages, a catheter bag full of urine at the side of him and a begging sign in front on him. I reallt didn’t know what to do. I’m too new here to start rushing in and trying to play the hero but it’s very very difficult to do nothing. It’s also sickens me that there are human beings with a mentality capable of using another person in that way.

It hasn’t all been bad here though. Far far from it. I have had a fantastic week with my kids. There are really getting to know me and I have some great lessons planned for then in the coming weeks! teaching them bodyparts was great fun on Friday – apparently the difference between hands and fingers can be tricky though!

I’ve started teaching the older kids at Twaayf some dance routines in preparation for a concert they are holding over Christmas which has also been a LOT of fun - I think I definitely having some budding Beyonces and Timberlakes in my group!

Home life is great too – the girls I’m living with are just fantastic and we are bonding very quickly (amazing what a game of ‘I have never’ can do for a group of friends!’.

This weekend was particularly fun, we spent some much needed relaxing time on the beach and headed to a club on Saturday night. The best place to drink here is Bella Vista which is very central to Mombasa but it is really only a pub so after around 11 we headed to Tembo nightclub.

Tembo is a little touristy but that’s not really a bad thing as it means you get left alone and get much less hassle than in some of the other places. Great music too and it’s outside so although it’s still hot it’s much better than a lot of others. 

The week ahead is looking to be pretty busy too so I think next weekend is definitely going to take a similar pattern!

Kwe Heri for now. Saz x

I have already been picking up lots of Swahili too – possibly the most important being ‘Nataka Pombay’ which at the end of the very very hot and hard working day is almost critical to survival. Loosly translated it means: Give me a beer.