Swimming with the fishes (piranhas and caymen that is)

3-6 May 2013

For the Amazon and Galapagos, I was going to simply post some amazing (even if I say so myself) photos I took of the animals and landscapes there, but Chris pooh-poohed the idea, so I'll add some words (and hopefully work out how to post photos, too).

Our Amazon tour, booked through the Happy Gringo tour company (lame name, I know), was very well organised. The Sacha Lodge rep met us at Quito airport, gave us personalised luggage tags and our boarding passes, and checked our luggage in before seeing us through customs. The reps in Coca met us at the airport, fed and watered us, then ushered us onto a motorised canoe, which took about 1.5 hours to deliver us to the lodge.

The canoe ride there and back was a mini-adventure in itself. We criss-crossed the Napo River, a tributary of the Amazon River that is wide but not too deep in the dry season (which we are in), avoiding the shallows. Along the way it was mostly jungle landscape - trees and bushes and vines. There was also the occasional oil refinery, noticeable because of the tall chimneys shooting flames, and the ugly rusty machinery and work trucks littering the shore. A sad sight on an otherwise picturesque landscape.

The guides gave us ponchos to wear to protect us from the boat spray and intermittent showers. But sitting towards the middle, where the spray was worst, we managed to get fairly soaked on the way there (and back). This was only made better when on the way back, despite our getting fairly wet again, a rather rude, snobby couple who had annoyed us were sitting at the front and copped the worst of the drenching. Chris called it the highlight of his trip. I called it Karma...

We spent almost four days exploring this stunning part of the Ecuadorean Amazon, based at a rather idealistic lodge. We lived in a plush private wooden hut, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, with butterflies, monkeys and all kinds of unusual wildlife playing outside. I would go back in a heartbeat, and stay longer next time without question.

Our guide was Mike, a 50-something Bavarian German who had met and fallen in love with an Ecuadorean woman with a young daughter on his travels in the region 20 years earlier. She was recently divorced at the time and within a couple of years, they married and had two more children. She lives in Quito with the girls (and a grand daughter), while he takes various tours to pay the bills. Mike was an environmental engineer long before it was the cool thing to study, and ended up as a guide in this environmentally precious area, because there wasn't much call for his profession back then. He was sometimes brash and serious (usually when it came to preserving the environment, our safety and our enjoyment of the tour); mostly good humoured; and always very knowledgeable and happy to answer any questions we had (even though he'd probably answered them for hundreds of tourists before us). We both liked him immediately, but I think the others in our group - two older Australian couples - didn't warm to him so much, based on some of their tears.

When we arrived, we were told an outline of what to expect and how things work at lodge - including, vitally, to listen out for the rather loud native-sounding horn that signals meal times. The food in the lodge was spectacular and plentiful. Breakfasts - though always early at about 6am - included different cereals, yoghurts, tropical fruits, eggs any way you liked, meats (bacon, sausages etc), pancakes, pikelets, waffles, breads, cakes, tea, coffee, juices, water, and different jams, honey and other condiments. Lunches and dinners included soups (I'll be making veggie quinoa soup when I get home!), different salads, veggies, meats, rice, and at least three different huge cakes/desserts and fruit. We (I) always over indulged, but it's hard not to when the food is so good! There will be plenty more of me to love when I get home!

Early each morning, late each afternoon and each evening after tea we had an activity, where the aim was to spot various wildlife and plants, and experience the jungle. It was steamy and hot from around 11am until about 3pm, so this was generally to be our rest and relaxation time at the lodge, with lunch in between. At this time, Chris and I read and swam (and sometimes napped). We swam in the lake at the entrance to the lodge, with a huge variety of fish who we could only feel nibbling at the skin on our feet, but not see. These fish included piranhas, who we were assured only eat rotting flesh on dead animals and are nothing like the blood-thirsty beasts featured in Hollywood blockbusters! Lucky for us, the guides seemed to be right. The caymens live in the same lake too, but only venture out from dusk til dawn, when swimming isn't allowed, so they didn't bother us either. We were also warned not to wee in the lake, for fear of being attacked by a bug that is attracted to urine and enters your open urethra and eventually finds its way to your kidneys, where it causes all kinds of strife. I don't know if this threat was real or just a way of preserving the environment, but it worked!

During the days, we went on canoe rides down nearby streams, thick with jungle buzzing with various birds and insects, including beautiful bright red dragonflies that moved so quickly I couldn't get a photo of them and hundreds of multicolored butterflies lazily floating on the breeze. We also saw big awkward turkey-like birds that move so slowly they are easy targets for hunters, but are known to taste so disgusting they are generally left safely alone.

We climbed up a 30-metre-plus-high kapok treehouse, spying on sloths, toucans (my favourites!), vultures and hundreds of birds I couldn't even begin to name, but which the avid bird watchers among us religiously ticked off in their bird bibles. On another, rather scary (for Chris), excursion, we crossed the tree top walk maybe 30 metres high above the jungle between rickety metal stands. Keeping your eye on the horizon and not looking down was key to making it across. We saw more birds and happily, some howler monkeys in the distance, snoozing and cuddling in the bare tree.

On the jungle floor, we watched cutter ants gather leaves to take into their nests, up to nine meters underground, where they'd mix the leaves with saliva to make food. If these ants deviate from the set path, they are immediately killed by the soldier cutter ants. Harsh punishment. We also saw surgeon ants with big pincers that can be used to clasp cuts in human flesh together so effectively it helps to stop them bleeding and you can't remove them. We kept well away from the big ant with a bite so fierce it can kill a baby and leave adults in excrutiating pain (as another guide discovered the day we arrived).

Our native guide, Bolivar, with eyes like a hawk, spotted the tiny poison dart frog, the poison from which is used by local tribes to kill monkeys for food and enemies for protection. He picked it up and held it on display for us to photograph before releasing it. He also spotted four of the most adorable monkeys I have ever seen, sheltering high up in a hole in a palm, watching us pass below; baby turtles crossing through undergrowth next to the path we followed; and lizards the size of my little finger perching on leaves the same colour as their skin. And everywhere we went, there were masses of spider webs, great funnels of silk, spun so they connected, housing what Mike told us were 'social spiders' - spiders who purposely build their homes next to one another, reliant on one another for survival. At a guess, there were maybe 20 or more spiders living closely, symbiotically, in one complex.

Bolivar also told us about native medicines, such as the turtle plant that relieves diarrhoea. A tall plant with broad green leaves, it's called a turtle plant because as far as the natives know, turtles don't get diarrhoea! We saw native ginger and garlic plants, which the Amazonians apparently use for the same medicinal and culinary purposes as we use our ginger and garlic.

Mike and Bolivar pointed out the rather mysterious, fairytale-like 'walking palms', which fascinate me. These incredible palm trees have roots that stretch down in a cone shape from midway up their trunk. These roots enable the trees to 'walk' up to 10 metres across the jungle floor, chasing the sun to aid growth. They are straight out of the 'Lord of the rings'! There were also stunning varieties of brightly coloured, flowering bromiliads, baby kapok trees, and lush, leafy ferns growing everywhere, on the jungle floor on fallen trees and rocks, and nesting in tree trunks and the uppermost branches of the tallest kapok trees.

The lodge keeps a butterfly house, where they breed butterflies to sell to people all around the world, selling tens of thousands of dollars worth of pupae a month. We visited the tourist section, where you can see the pupae in various stages of development and grown butterflies feasting on flowers and fruit in the vast enclosure (each butterfly generally only eats one plant or fruit so they cater to all the types they breed). They had maybe 10 butterfly varieties on show, with the most incredible being a butterfly with the spitting image of an owl's face and snake's head on its folded wings. One of each on each wing! How on Earth the butterfly evolved over time to replicate these to a photographic quality image is amazing and beyond my comprehension!

Each night, we followed the precedent we set on the first night - sitting in the bar drinking delicious cocktails. Generally, everyone else seemed to go to bed early and sober, so we were usually the only ones there. In addition to this, our second night featured a jungle walk, using torches to spot miniature frogs, cicadas, baby birds and big, hairy tarantulas in the jungle right near our rooms. The tarantulas were especially amazing, because you hear so much about them, so to see them in nature - up close and personal - is pretty special. Mike told us they aren't that harmful - their bite feels just like a bee or wasp sting. Based on that, I can't help feeling they get a bad rap (although they do look rather intimidating).

On the third evening, our (my) usual cocktails preceded a big group BBQ, at which some of the guides made speeches and we met some more of the staff. We then went on a short canoe ride, on which we were swooped by and saw loads of bats, circling and darting through the jungle. We also saw a few caymans out swimming.

The next morning, before we left the lodge, we visited the parrot wall. The parrots go here to sober up and detox from eating too much fruit. Simply, it's an orange-coloured wall down the river Napo, where the birds eat chunks of dirt that is full of minerals and other goodness to counteract their being drunk on fruit. If only a human hangover was that simple to fix!

Our airport trials continued when on the way back to Quito, we ran into a minor hiccup at security. Chris' ginormous spray can of hairspray had concerned the guards so much they flagged his already checked-in bag and we, with help from a Sacha Lodge guide, had to explain what it was (e.g. not a bomb). They then let us board and we quietly went on our way, to prepare for the next leg of our trip - the Galapagos islands.

Breathtaking Quito

30 April-2 May

We arrived in Quito around lunchtime on Tuesday 30 April. We had no problems on this flight, and the only comment from the immigration lady when we left LA was in surprise at how burnt we were considering we are Australian and should be used to it. (We were surprised too - it didn't seem that hot and Chris wore sunscreen.)

We scored with a lovely cab driver who tried to give us a mini scenic tour in limited English and fluent Spanish, which we didn't understand, of course. It made the 1.5 hour trip from the airport to Quito old town interesting! He dropped us in a square about two blocks from our hotel, and with the help of a policeman, we eventually found the hotel.

There's no shortage of policemen and policewomen in Quito, with literally one or two on every corner. I'm not sure if this made me feel more safe or concerned about why they need so many (though I never felt unsafe there). We saw multiple traffic police, tourist police, mounted police, motorcycle police, riot police and SAS (really!). The majority we saw were traffic police, who direct cars, trucks, buses and pedestrians through the confusing one-way street system Quito has, despite there being traffic lights on most corners to do this (but when you see the way people drive in Quito, you understand they need all the help they can get). The tourist police help with traffic and keep an eye on tourists and locals alike. The SAS and riot police just seem to randomly hang out in squares and on street corners. I'm not quite sure why.

The first full day we were there was a public holiday, Labour day. There were loud but peaceful protests in every square and processions in most main streets. There was much banner waving and megaphone shouting. And, of course, an influx of even more police keeping an eye on proceedings. We couldn't understand most of what was being said, but presumed it was to do with low wages and bad working conditions, and decided it was best to avoid these gatherings when the toilet attendant at one told me to be careful with my bag. With few places open that day, we were were limited to walking around the old town and visiting a few squares, churches and religious art museums.

There are quite a few churches in Quito, and we saw most of them in our first few days there. They were all very similar to be honest, as I find most churches in European-style cities to be. It always astounds me how much churches or religions spend on blinging up places of worship, with so many decked out in gold leaf and jewels. I thought the whole premise was to look after each other, tend to the flock, make sure people have food and shelter. But it seems the poorer the city and its people, the flashier the church. Couldn't that money be better spent? And if god is such an upstanding bloke, surely he wouldn't expect to have such an obscenely expensive venue built just so you can talk to him and think about him. Surely he'll listen to you no matter where you are? I guess I'm more from the Joan of Arc school of thought, if there is an all-seeing being out there, of course. In saying that, the excessively golden and elaborate Company of Jesus church was pretty impressive in its decoration and you have to appreciate the craftsmanship that went into it. It certainly deserves the locals' nickname of the most beautiful church in Ecuador. I also can't get my head around all the gory Jesus statues and paintings; the saints with their eyes disturbingly rolling back in their heads; and the way all the statues are dramatically lit from below in a spooky campfire ghost story-style. Hasn't the church heard of engaging through positive reinforcement and love, rather than fear?

Quito is a large sprawling city, set high up in a valley. It's more developed in the city centres, where it somewhat resembles less fancy European cities, and it's less developed on the city outskirts, where it somewhat resembles Indian cities (a bit basic, dirty and dusty; a work in progress). Buildings are mostly concrete or rough brick structures, square and solid, some painted brightly, with various wires protruding from them. The older historical buildings, like the palaces and churches, look very Spanish and ornate (and complete).

The main square in the old town is rimmed by beautiful old Spanish-style buildings, including the President's palace and Archbishop's residence. In the square's centre are pretty gardens, fountains, statues and benches to enjoy the view - and a very persistent man who will try to sell you everything from accommodation or tour to a hat or belt. We took a tour of the President's palace, in Spanish (it's almost a game now to see how Spanish speakers pronounce my name - I'm getting used to being called Louis and Lovess, among other things). Security is tight at the palace. We had to hand over ID and wear tags, and were shadowed by men with guns. Quite ornate, the palace has loads of wood panelling (including floors and ceilings in some rooms) with hidden doors and openings; a couple of pretty courtyards with fountains (in front of which you are obliged to have a photo, which is given to you when you leave to commemorate your visit); and a big shiny mural in the stairway that celebrates Ecuador's independence. There's also an impressive display of gifts from various world leaders (interestingly a lot from Korea) in the dining hall, as well as a mini church with pews and a gold floor-to-ceiling altar with scary statues. I know what my dining room at home is missing now! I read that the President opened the palace to the public, putting the gifts on display and encouraging Ecuadoreans to visit and see them for free, believing the gifts and palace belong to the people, that the people should be proud of their country, and that government should be transparent. Nice ideas.

The Archbishop's residence is now a three-storey shopping area with restaurants, which we visited several times for snacks and dinners. It features a lovely, naturally lit, large central courtyard, which the restaurants overlook. We also became regulars at the Magic Bean in 'gringo land', the new city area where all the tour operator offices, bars and hostels are. We had our first huevos rancheros experience there, involving an indigestible amount of chilli beans and two fried eggs on a tortilla, topped with what appeared to be about 250 grams of melted cheese and two inch-long fingers of capsicum, for health value. Per rather large plate. Delicious. We made the effort to eat there, or just have granola and fruit when we upgraded our room to a suite including kitchen, for breakfast in preference to the brekky included at our hotel, which involved grey, overcooked hard scrambled eggs, stale bread rolls and gritty, pasty jam. Understandably.

We also made the trek up to a breathtaking lookout on top of a mountain near the city one morning. I mean breathtaking literally, because by the time you get the telefonico (cable car) up to the top, you are 4100 metres above sea level (Quito is already about 2850 metres above sea level) and the air is mighty thin and it's hard to breathe. It's also very cold. There is a walk you can do up there, across the back of a mountain, which takes an hour or so, but it's recommended that you don't do it unless you are acclimatised, which we definitely weren't. We walked about 10 minutes of it, very slowly, just far enough to see the church (yes, there was a church up there in the middle of nowhere) and enter the cloud drifting across the mountain top, before heading back down. Despite the effort, it was a beautiful and very peaceful place to visit, reminding me a little of the cool, green landscape near my brother's home in Engand. And it had fantastic views of Quito. It seemed like you used to be able to stay up there, with several now completely vacant hotel-style buildings on top of the mountain. However, all that's open up there now are some uninspiring cafes and a walking track.

You can pretty much set your watch to the weather in Quito. We learned this the hard way when we got stuck in a church for almost an hour waiting for the storm to pass (it didn't and we ran out in the rain, trying to flag a taxi to take us back to our hotel - it stopped raining when we got there). Until about 10am, it's misty and overcast. Then it's clear skies and warm until about 1pm, when the dark clouds start gathering over the hills around the city. By 3pm the sky is grumbling and threatening to rain, and an hour later it's absolutely belting down. It rains for about an hour and by 5.30pmish it's clear again, but cool. This happens daily, give or take an hour. We noticed this pattern after two days and left the hostel well equipped each day, with umbrellas and coats, sunnies and hats. Smart, we thought. And yet the locals seem oblivious to this recurring weather, or simply don't care. Every day when the rain started, we'd shelter in a shop front or cafe, watching the locals - some in business suits and uniforms - drenched to the skin, no umbrella, jacket or poncho in sight!

Despite this apparent lack of sensibility, the people in Quito were generally really lovely to us, helping us with directions, pointing out where to get taxis and accepting our distinct lack of Spanish with good humour and patience. It made it a great central city from which to visit the Galapagos islands and Amazon jungle.

A close shave in LA

26-29 April

We opted to get a 48-hour ticket for the hop-on, hop-off bus to start our LA exploration. The weather was lovely and sunny while we were there (we even got a little burnt), so it was ideal to see the main sights around Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Downtown, and get us to Santa Monica in those first couple of days. We took the obligatory photos of the Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive signs; the Viper Room; Chateau Montmarte; the stars and foot and hand prints in concrete; and the different theatres (Egyptian, Chinese etc). We even popped into Ripley's Believe it or not museum, which was somewhat lame, interesting and gruesome all rolled into one. My favorite bit was the impromptu cheesy electronic dance room at the end, which traced your movements on the wall in hypercolour, much like an iPod ad on TV. Naturally, Chris broke out his finest moves.

Happily we found a juice bar down the road from our hotel that had veg juice. This became our regular morning breakfast stop. While in LA, we also regularly popped into a chain store called Coffee bean and tea leaf, which had good (unsweetened) tea and coffee and relatively healthy food. This was after several misadventures in other stores, which left us with sickly syrupy liquids that went straight in the bin after a couple of attempts to drink them.

Before we left home, Chris bought tickets for us to see the basketball on 26 April. We saw the semi finals between the Lakers and Spurs. Held at the Staples Center, it was just like the big basketball games in the movies - with bright lights, dramatic cheesy music, cheerleaders, personalised messages on the big screens, kiss and dance cams, oversized hands people wave around, and celebrities in the front row (in our case, Jack Nicholson, who wore black sunnies the whole time and didn't hold back abusing the ref and players, leaving before the game ended in disgust at how bad it was). While it's clear to anyone who knows me how little interest I have in sport of any sort, it was quite a fun night. The game itself was pretty boring, but the entertainment made up for it. My favorite was the kiss cam - where the camera man picks random couples sitting in the stadium and broadcasts them kissing on the big screen. It picked the wrong bloke in one instance - so the woman laughed and turned to kiss the man sitting on the other side of her. Another time it picked a couple who looked to be in their late 70s. The man looked really confused but chastely pecked his partner. It picked them again at the end of the segment. The man looked a bit more certain and gave her a big, long passionate kiss. Everyone cheered. The dance cam was also great - with kids doing crazy, enthusiastic jigs when they appeared on the big screen.

We ditched Disneyland (and forcing Chris onto a ferris wheel) to visit Santa Monica and Venice Beach for a second time, because we liked it so much. It had such a great vibe. The first time we went, on the Saturday, it was jammed with people, but the second time, the Monday we left, it was quieter and easier to move around. We walked along Santa Monica pier, where they filmed some of Forest Gump and have a shop dedicated to him. It's a huge pier with a fun park, arcade, restaurants and cafes, plus people selling souvenirs, sketching people and offering you the chance to have photos with parrots. We then made our way to Venice Beach, where the beach-side boulevard is lined with shops selling t-shirts, souvenirs, tattoos and snacks, and there are market stalls where people offer artwork and jewellery of varying quality, clairvoyant readings (so many psychics in LA!), personalised poetry and 'crap advice for a dollar'. There are also men who let you pat their dog or cat for a dollar (and that's no euphemism - they had their pets there on leads). If you were feeling under the weather, there was even a 'doctor in the house' - where you could go to legally smoke a joint. Fortunately, Chris and I were feeling fine, so didn't stop in.

Santa Monica and Venice Beach is a little rough, a little hippy, a little funky, a little posh and a little touristy. There was an unusual mix of people wearing leather pants, happy pants, hot pants, chinos or bikinis; and an excess of tattoos, piercings and children. You had to dodge skateboards, roller skates, bikes, prams and people playing hoola hoop. Buskers competed with radios from cafes and ghetto blasters on the beach and people selling their wares. It made for an interesting and entertaining stroll.

For even more contrast, we headed inland a few streets, where canals remain from when Venice Beach was first built (the guy who built the suburb built the canals, most of which were later filled in). It seemed quite a well-to-do neighbourhood, with big old-fashioned houses and beautiful gardens of palms, bougainvillea and roses that faced out onto the waterways. Most homes had a dock where a little boat was tied up. It was very peaceful compared with the chaos of the beach. Amusingly, it was also the setting for girls and guys having what we presumed were modelling photos taken on the bridges.

We ate loads of delicious hippy food in Santa Monica - I could happily live there for the tasty (and healthy) food alone! I even convinced Chris to eat in a raw vegan cafe - Euphoria loves rawvolution - where he was pleasantly surprised at how amazing the food and drinks were. I may have converted him - and will be on the lookout for similar places in Melbourne and adapting some of the cafes' recipes at home, especially the warm drinks (almond milk chai latte for starters). After a Wholefoods shopping splurge and feast, I'm also on the case for opening a store in Melbourne. I can't help but believe a Wholefoods store in St Kilda or Fitzroy would be an exceptional success. Yes?!

The extremes and excitement of Santa Monica must have affected Chris, because on our first visit there, he finally went through with shaving his hair to a number three, after more than six months' of painful (for me) debate with himself about it. This was a close shave indeed, as I had to step in and direct the hairdresser (a nice, though seemingly misguided lady) and Chris to shave the whole lot off to the same length, rather than leave a rather effeminate and David Beckham-esque floppy longer bit on top. The final result was a roaring success and has saved hours of grooming. Every day. I'm trying to convince him to keep this hairstyle.

Despite the fun of Santa Monica and Venice Beach, LA in general, and Hollywood in particular, was rather underwhelming. It seemingly tries to have the glitz of what I imagine Las Vegas does and the top end style that New York does (well, it has H&M and Mac shops, which suits me). I'm sure that in her hey day, Hollywood (and LA) would have been inspiring and breathtaking and special, but now the buildings are run down and tired-looking, and the roads and footpaths are cracked and holey. It really isn't the oasis of style and glamour and beauty I was expecting. It's hard to imagine that such famous movies and stories originated in this town. She feels a little forgotten, neglected and sad. Maybe it was just where we were staying and visiting though. We didn't venture to Hollywood Hills or go through Beverly Hills except for on a bus (but what we saw was a lot less glamorous and flashy than I was expecting).

However, what LA lacks in beauty and style, it makes up for in quirk and its people. The people were absolutely lovely - really friendly and chatty and helpful. People on the street and buses offer help with directions or just ask where you are from. Shop assistants are also usually up for a chat, and one (who put my age down as 32 when I was buying booze from the supermarket, bless him) talked to me about how the Australians he sketches in his day job as a Disney artist teach him words like 'ranga' - then called me and Julia Gillard one!

On Hollywood Boulevard, the people touting tours will talk to you for half an hour if given the chance (obviously trying for a sale but sometimes seemingly genuinely interested in a chat). We had one who thought Australia was near Russia... And they say the Australian education system has problems!

Being in Hollywood, we were also lucky enough to see several Michael Jacksons of varying colour and talent; two Jack Sparrows who vaguely resembled Johnny Depp; Wonder Woman and the Good Fairy hanging out; two good red Spidermen and one bad black one, who had all let themselves go based on their pot bellies (lycra is most unforgiving); and two transformers clearly not in disguise.

Homeless people in Hollywood were also very polite and always said hello and wished us a good day, not usually asking for money. We chatted with one homeless guy late one night near our hotel. His cat, Satvia, was in a harness attached to his backpack. She was a typical tortoiseshell who was very pretty and a little temperamental, but happy enough sitting there as he wandered along the street. I patted her briefly before she took a warning swipe. He told us she was in heat (apparently cats get PMS too). We actually saw a few people wandering around with cats on their shoulders and on harnesses. One guy even had a squirrel in a homemade rope harness on his shoulder as he walked down Hollywood Boulevard in midday traffic, both seemingly as happy as Larry. These aren't things you see everyday (well, they're not common in Briar Hill at least).

We left LA on the Monday night, flying to Quito via Panama City. While LA wasn't particularly special and I wouldn't go out of my way to visit again, we had fun and it was a nice way to start what is proving to be an exceptional honeymoon.

And so it begins...

25-25 April (gotta love the extra day)

Our nine-week honeymoon adventure started with a wildlife adventure a little closer to home. In our toilet on the second floor of our home, at 5am the morning we left.

I like to think our house is a little bit special, that our garden is a little magical. We have a thriving herb and veggie garden, which we share with all sorts of beautiful animals and insects. Cockies eat wattle seeds from the tree overhanging our deck while hiding from minah birds. King parrots eat the lettuce in the pots on our deck and chat to us about how tasty it is. Magpies eat our cheese and crackers and anything else left on the table on our deck when we're not paying attention. Lorikeets eat seed and drink water from containers we hold, perched on our hands below the plum tree. Geckos skit from rock to rock, hiding from our cats. And from our neighbours' cats, who come to play with Indi and get high on cat mint, cat thyme and cat nip in the sunshine, lying on the sun-baked pavers. Praying mantis are well hidden in the lemon balm. Bees get drunk in our lavender hedge, kindly not stinging me when I brush past them when weeding. Butterflies flit among the sage (and cabbages!). Garden spiders build intricate webs between rosemary bushes and lemon grass, and somehow aren't washed away when we turn the sprinkler system on. Huntsmen the size of dinner plates take up residence in our front lounge, where they entertain the cats for days - always just out of their reach. And hundreds of snails feast on anything green and juicy, from horseradish and kale to sorrel and silver beet. We tend to let nature run her course and give each life room to live, as much as possible.

The morning we left, as I flushed the toilet, I looked down and noticed something odd on the rim of the bowl. Something brown. I'm a bit of a clean freak and had made sure the house was in tip top condition for our house sitters, so took a second look. Then a third. Clinging to the rim, partly hidden under the seat, was a large adult snail (no sh*t!). What we presume was a night time wander up two storeys, through the open window, down the wall and into the toilet bowl had left our poor friend in a rather precarious position (who knew snails could travel so far in five hours?). Slightly perplexed, but not too surprised, I picked him/her up and popped him/her outside where conditions were a little more favourable.

The surprises that morning continued, with our taxi driver arriving early, his cab not smelling of vomit (unusual considering it was the early morning of an Australian public holiday) and him knowing the way to the airport, not playing offensive talk back on the radio and not making inane conversation. On the other hand, Chris wouldn't stop talking. I don't feel much like talking first thing in the morning, let alone about breakfast at 6am.

I don't have the greatest track record with airport customs and immigration and security checks. I think it's karma for giving cheek to what was probably a very nice customs official in LA when I was about 10. In the midst of what was likely a 30-hour trip home from England, with several plane changes in those days, he apologetically asked to search my bag, saying he had to at least look like he was doing his job. I retorted that if he did, he'd have to pack it back up himself because it was too hard and I wasn't going to do it again. It probably wasn't the first (or last) time mum wished she'd stopped at three kids. Since then, I usually get stopped for random drug searches, fruit and veg searches, explosives scans and pat downs. And it seems this trend is continuing for our honeymoon. It was about 7.30am and just as I finished my first G&T sample and was eagerly eyeing off the whiskey stands, my name was called over the PA. "Excellent!", we thought. "Chris' brother's contacts at Qantas have come through with the goods and upgraded us - we just have to pick up our new boarding cards!" Sadly, we received no special treatment. They were just double-checking my paperwork and visa status for the States, despite having covered this online when I booked and when we dropped off our bags.

Chris managed to sleep for most of the flight, but although I tried, I failed, and ended up watching far too many movies, leaving me slightly delirious and sobbing at the end of Les Mis.

In LA, it became clear that the visa information had got lost in translation. The nice customs and immigration man politely told me I hadn't been on the flight - despite my boarding card, jet lag and having waited with fellow passengers for 90 minutes in the queue. It seems Qantas had somehow given me a boarding pass and boarded me, but failed to put me on their passenger list. I spent some time with this official and his manager, who manually entered my details into their system, assuring them I had no criminal records and hadn't been stopped at any other US airports for carrying fruit or veg (he asked! I was stopped once in Perth, when a beagle picked up the waft of a long gone banana I'd taken for a work snack the week before, but didn't think this was pertinent to add), and proffering multiple forms of ID upon request. Just as they let me through and we left to collect our bags, he called me back to go through all the fingerprinting and eye scanning and photo checks again, so he could put something on my (permanent) record to stop me being held up again. Fingers crossed for our return trip through LA!

We found our airport shuttle, which eventually dropped us at our hotel. It was still early - midday - but despite my best efforts, I promptly passed out on top of the bed, drooling into my pillow, while Chris watched Judge Judy on TV. Thus began our romantic honeymoon abroad!

After a few hours' rest, we ventured outside for a stroll up and down Hollywood Boulevard, to check out the stars on the pavement - and there were hundreds. I thought they were just for movie stars, but it seems TV stars, musicians, producers, directors - almost anyone - can have one. It was the first day of a classic movie festival, so half of the road was cordoned off and lined with a red carpet and security. We stopped for a while and watched who we believed to be famous people walking up it and being interviewed. The only person we recognised was one of the anchors from NBC Today, Katie Couric, who posed awkwardly for her team and tourists alike.

In need of sustenance and with a lack of anything better to do, we ended up in Hooters. It's an interesting place, where attractive young ladies, all dolled up and with cleavage (top and bottom) on show, take your orders and stop for a chat. We couldn't quite work out why they had to climb a ladder to clip your order onto a flying-fox style wire linked to the kitchen, flinging it to the chef and yelling out "Hooter girl!". But after two long island iced teas (to celebrate my brother's birthday) and some onion rings, and having had only about five hours' sleep in two days, it seemed logical to buy myself a Hooters t-shirt. I guess I can always wear it to bed.

I clearly needed another drink, so at one of the many Mexican restaurants near our hotel, I ordered a chilli margarita. It took about an hour and plenty of water for me to drink it. It's fair to say it was hotter than my meal - or any meal I've had - and I can be quite generous with the chilli.

Proud of ourselves for having made it to 10pm, we went back to our hotel, where Chris resumed the snoring he'd begun on the plane.