Santiago

It was hard to leave New Zealand behind. It had become to feel like home. So much so, that you had the feeling that Glasgow was only a couple of hours down the road... And in one sense it was; at our last stop the wonderful Irvine family in Auckland had fed us, washed our clothes, reminded us of our table manners, been our tour guide and allowed us to sleep soundly in a proper bed. Thank you! And sorry Max for rushing off before you finished your picture. Please send it to us!
Then it was time for Scott Bakula to jump into our skins and quantum leap back in time on our way to Santiago, Chile. It took us a few days to get over the shock but then we discovered that the national dish in Chile is an empanada - a cheese pie. And boy are they tasty. Of course, there are lots of regional varieties, so we felt obliged to try quite a few. Most of the restaurant food here is based around meat and carbohydrate - not much in the way of greens, salad or really any veg at all. This is a bit of a mystery as whenever we go to a market they are stocked high with amazing veg, pulses, fruit and enough advocadoes to drown Scotland in guacamole. So what do they do with it all? They definitely don't feed any of it to tourists. Still, it hasn't detered us from searching out the best, and cheapest, meals we can.

On our first day in Santiago, we met a couple of students who told us some good places to eat, and mentioned a few good dishes to try. Unfortunately, with our Spanish being less than basic at this time, and their English reasonable but not wide in vocabulary, we went away with the impression that Chile was famous for its chocolate mice. Strange, we thought, but we should probably try some. Luckily, before we pestered too many sweetie shops, we discovered that in fact they had been talking about a pastel de choclo, or maize: a corn pie. It is also yummy - a sort of shepherds pie filled with mince, chicken, some veg if you are lucky and then topped with corn mixed with egg and sometimes cheese.

My dad has recently made an attempt to outgrow my beard and moustachio. Well, that wouldn´t be difficult. I´m not quite sure what side of the family I´ve inherited my body hair genes from but there certainly isn´t much to go round. Fortunately, where the hair does grow on my face, it grows in the right places to look okay. The closest I ever came to sideburns was the stage makeup I needed for playing Fagin at school! Kathy has mastered the art of trimming my beard with the scissors from my Swiss army knife. She takes it all very seriously. I, in return, have been allowed to practise my best Nicky Clarke impersonations and have been licenced to tame Kathy´s mullet. Kathy got a magnificent hair cut in Vietnam but the haircut you get tends to reflect the trend in the country where you are. In Vietnam they dig sexy bobs but in Chile they wear the chico mullet. It wasn´t bad, just a little bit out of proportion around the neckline. That´s hairdresser lingo-technical, in case your wondering, for the bit at the back. Swiss army scissors and comb at hand, I wrestled, captured and tamed the mullet with gusto. By the time I had finished, I was already suggesting possible hair products to suit the client´s hair condition and a follow up appointment to have a go round the front of the head. It has to be said that the client was suitably impressed!

P...p...p...pick up a penguin

I was thinking today that Scotland´s Autumn colours will be looking their best at the moment. I bet the Perthshire hills and lochs are just ablaze with gold, bronze, amber and red. Lots of things about New Zealand kept reminding us of home. In the north island of NZ there was lots of heather planted around the hills of the 3 active volcanoes of Mount Ruapehu, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe. The plants were all imported from Scotland years ago and they are apparently very popular for wedding photo backdrops when they are resplendent in their proud purple bloom.
The scenery of the south island is really like Scotland. Everything just seems a bit bigger than normal! But some of the native species of animals are very different. In Scotland, you won´t find any penguins or sea lions outside of Edinburgh zoo. We made it our mission to see a penguin in the wild and in NZ there are lots of opportunities for catching sight of them.
On the east coast of the south island we drove to the town of Oamaru, famous for its Whitestone cheese factory and blue penguins. I hadn´t realised how shy penguins are. They have built a grandstand for enthusiasts to watch the penguins come ashore at dusk but also to keep onlookers at a safe distance. Sadly, it was a bit expensive and we didn´t fancy the idea of watching penguins from a grandstand. That wasn´t how we envisaged our first experience of encountering penguins in the wild. David Attenborough doesn´t build grandstands, now, does he? So, we spent all our money at the cheese factory instead. Undoubtedly the best cheese we tasted in the whole of NZ. They also make a delicously tangy lemon cheesecake.
In Oamaru you can also buy genuine NZ whisky. A warehouse specializes in bottling from casks of the now defunct Wilson´s Distillery of Dunedin. Pretty good it was too with a sea saltiness not unlike Old Pultney. Penguins vs. cheese and whisky was always going to be a tough one. This time the penguins lost..

Journeying south down the east coast, the good weather and beautiful scenery trapped us in the Otago Peninsula. Once again I was reminded of home. The high cliffs, rolling green fields and golden sands transported me back to the north east coastline of Scotland.
At Sandiford Beach we went in search of the shy yellow penguins that can be spotted there. Instead, we found a colony of not-at-all shy sea lions and a fully naked batch of young lads running in and out of the cold waves. And the sea lions were by far the scariest of the two. As we walked along the beach, we got too close to one sea lion, who sneezed at us with contempt, reared up on its hind and then charged towards us with ungainly but frightening speed. I´m sure there is a whole list of sensible things that you should do when this happens but we just panicked and ran as fast as we could. Picture an angry Sumo wrestler plunging across a beach on their belly at what seems a physically impossible velocity and you have a fairly accurate idea. Scary. As hell. Maybe the naked men had some method to their madness? The group of girls situated on the hillside overlooking the beach, who made good use of our binoculaurs, certainly thought so! The penguins stayed well clear. With all that going on, who can blame them?

Our luck finally changed after a wee walk to the islolated Munro Beach on the west of the south island. A boulder marked the point where it was best to stop so as not to disturb the Fjordland penguins who were currently breeding. A few sets of footprints in the sand beyond this point was evidence of some foolish human visitors who obviously felt they knew better. Void of grandstands, the temptations of cheese or whisky, naked men or sea lions; we waited patiently with the binoculaurs. 15 mins past and I spotted a black shape bobbing and weaving in and out of the waves. Was it just a piece of drift wood? It seemed to be letting the tide do all the hard work of bringing it to shore. When the shape reached the sand, stood up on its feet and flapped its wings, I nearly screamed with excitement. No, not another naked man, a real live penguin. Our very own. It stopped to look our way for a few seconds and then waddled off to the safety of the rocks. Eat your heart out David Attenborough!

Abel Tasman: perfect water in NZ

One of the best days we have enjoyed in all whole time away was sea kayaking in the Abel Tasman National Park in the north-east peninsula of the south island.
The charm of New Zealand is that it is full of crazy outdoor adventures. I kept telling myself I was working up to the bungy. Kathy was having none of it. The closest we had come so far was the luge in Queenstown. It was actually my belated birthday present. The cable car takes you to the top of the hill and then you charge down on a 3 wheeled pastic engineless cart. It was tremendous fun, the five times that we each raced down the steep track just wasn´t enough.
But Abel Tasman was a different kind of adrenalin rush. The slow, thoughtful kind. It was beautiful day for starters. The sky was blue, the water still and the 3 kayaks in our group were the only people out there. One of the pleasures about being somewhere off-season is that when the weather is right it feels like you are the only tourists in the world and you don´t need to share your experience with anyone else. In China, that had been almost impossible but on that day it was just perfect.

Our kayak was a tandem version with myself at the front and Kathy steering from behind... as always! After we got in the water and started to paddle, there isn´t much to tell. It just felt amazing to gently work our way round the coastline. We spotted oyster catchers, shags and seals and our guide, Josh, told us tales of the early Maori settlers in the area.
Lunch was had in an idyllic little coved beach. Kathy and myself wasted no time to strip down to oor dookers and charge into the sea. ´JESUS!!!´ It was c c c c frEEZING! I lasted about a whole ten minutes but Kathy, never one to shy from a contest, endured the baltic waters for at least another 10mins. One of the English lads with us, was inspired by our fine example and raced into the chill in his pants. The 2 young Swiss lads didn´t seem impressed. They stayed marooned and bored on their rock. It was obvious that they had still to reach the overgrown kid stage yet!
After lunch we left our party behind and followed a short trek around the rest of the peninsula. Later we were picked up by the sea taxi and taken back to base. I spent the time on the journey back calculating how I could afford to buy a kayak. It is really very similar to a campervan. You store all your provisions in the body of the kayak and are free to roam wherever you like. Weather permitting, Scotland is perfect for it.

You´re probably wondering why I´ve not yet mentioned anything to do with food yet. Well don´t worry, here it comes. After another heavy day of exercise we were more than ready to eat. A take away was on the cards. In town there was all the usual suspects: fish n´chips, curry, Chinese. No, not tonight. Our take away tea was from somewhere that specialised in roast lamb and all the trimmings. It was New Zealand after all and it tasted just like mum´s home cooking. Roast lamb, roast tatties, carrots, peas, pumpkin, kumara (sweet potato), cauliflower cheese and a massive ladleful of gravy on top. We forced it down with a bottle of L&P, which is NZ´s answer to Irn Bru. We´re thinking of opening a chain when we return home.

A gentle paddle followed by a roast tea; now that´s my kind of day. The bungy doesn´t even get a look in...