Tervets in Manhattan

When the Lonely Planet authors described New York as exhausting, they weren't kidding. Admittedly, we've hurled ourselves onto one sightseeing tour after another, but this entrancing city grabs your attention every time you pause for breath - or, at least, there's a dubious-looking salesperson in your face determined to convince you that their bus tour, comedy show, bike ride or street art is a) legitimate and b) worth opening your wallet for.

Speaking of bus tours, we've been racking them up. If there's anyone in New York who's put a 48-hour all-loops sightseeing pass to better use than us, I'd like to meet them.

Who knew, for example, there was a megastore dedicated to M&Ms, or, indeed, there are so many M&Ms in the entire world? This was the scene that greeted us when we stepped into this kingdom of chocolate and tat.

The uptown loop of the bus tour took us through Harlem and along the east side of Central Park before dropping us back in the city centre.

We swapped land for water and cruised round the southernmost tip of Manhattan...

...out to the Statue of Liberty...

...and all the way around the island before returning to our jetty a couple of hours later. It was a good way to size up Manhattan, the population of which - our tour guide said - rises from three million to five million on a work day.

Our insatiable appetite for tours had us on a night bus later that day, as the lights on the skyscrapers began to come on. I've rarely seen crowds like those in Times Square (above) - only Oxford Street in London compares, to be honest. Watching the masses from our seat on the bus was certainly preferable to tackling the scrum at first-hand, as we had on the evening of our arrival.

Lower sank the sun and on drove the bus, affording us this view of the famous Brooklyn Bridge, about which our guide waxed lyrical. The world's first suspension bridge is one of several connecting Manhattan with Brooklyn, and it's certainly the prettiest.

We alighted at Times Square - by now fully illuminated by gaudy overhead signs and filled by traffic, tourists and tradesmen. The place known as the Crossroads of the World leaves you not knowing which way to turn, or - in my case - feel. The congestion, the heat, the unrelenting pace and the inability to gather your thoughts - and bearings - even for a moment, should repel me, but I'm fixated by the place and I want more of it. Times Square; intoxicating.

New York never sleeps, and we almost haven't. A few hours later we were up again, polishing off the hotel's continental breakfast and striding out of the lobby hoping to beat the queue for the Empire State Building. We succeeded, in part, having been told the night before that we faced a three-hour wait to get to the top. In daylight, and with many of those revellers still in bed, it took only 30 minutes before we we were navigating the final barrier rope and rocketing up 86 floors in a crowded elevator to the observatory deck.

The view downtown to the financial district was stunning...

...uptown, Central Park and the Hudson River didn't look too shabby either...

...our early start had been vindicated.

Next stop was Ground Zero, where one of these huge water features stands on the site of each of the twin towers. Was it really 13 years ago that I sat on the bus home from college and overheard rumours of planes crashing into buildings on the other side of the Atlantic? The names of every person who died that day are engraved on the memorial and, of course, there were hundreds of people on site paying their respects.

The new World Trade Center is nearing completion and it dominates the New York skyline, as its predecessors did. At 1,776 feet tall, it is the tallest building in the United States and it yells defiance in the face of terrorism. What happened here on 9/11 will never be forgotten and it's only served to fortify the American spirit.

Standing between the two memorial sites and the foot of the new, glistening tower evoked a feeling that defies description, really.

I'm glad we went.

I doubt there's a building around these parts which oozes more class than the aptly-named Grand Central Station (above). It's more of a tourist attraction than a transport hub these days, although trains do still run out of there to the suburbs.

But the jewel in this particular crown is the superb array of food emporiums in the station's basement. Dishes from all over the world at cracking prices - well, the Chinese seafood and noodles certainly represented excellent value for money.

The only shame was we couldn't try the Thai as well. Good job we don't leave until tomorrow.

New York

I roll out of bed and pull the curtains. Thirteen floors below, the Star-Spangled Banner is fluttering outside Madison Square Garden and there are only two yellow taxis at the intersection of Seventh Avenue and 33rd Street. This is no normal Sunday morning.

This is New York.

Yesterday was a bit of blur, really. Another early start - this time in Berkshire, our flight out of Heathrow delayed by almost three hours, and scenes of general chaos and frustration around the terminal.

Several children were wheeling around miniature suitcases called Trunkis. These come with a strap attached so kids can sit on the Trunki and be pulled along by their parents. We side-stepped one or two and then had to stop in our tracks as a father strode angrily towards his departure gate. The Trunki he was dragging behind him was fairly flying through the crowd and the little lad on board looked terrified.

Our flight eventually landed in Newark, New Jersey. At the welcome desk, one assistant told us the trains to New York weren't running, before the lady on the adjacent desk insisted they absolutely were. After further conjecture, we located a bus transfer and subsequently the train station. The trains were running.

Out of Penn Station we walked and New York City hit us like a truck. The crowds, the smells, the gigantic billboards, the taxis, the lights, the men wheeling hot dog stalls through traffic, and the branches of Dunkin' Donuts which seemed to appear on every corner.

By the time we reached Times Square, the mass of bodies was so dense you could barely move. This was like Piccadilly Circus on acid, with lines of Broadway-bound theatre-goers bisecting the queues for McDonald's, and a myriad of tourists posing for pictures with Mickey Mouse and Woody from Toy Story. We'd now been awake for the best part of 24 hours and I was starting to feel delirious. Was that really a man doing chin-ups on the traffic lights? Anything goes here, I suppose.

Burger and chips - it had to be - at Schnipper's - great name - brought down the curtain on a truly frantic day. We were anticipating a double room back at the Hotel Pennsylvania, but instead we were greeted by a suite bigger than our house in Kent. Clearly it's not just food portions which are bigger here.

There are four yellow taxis at the intersection now.

New York is waking up. Let's get out there.

Christmas in Australia

It's fair to say Christmas has been a little different for us in 2012. Almost everything familiar about this time of year was whipped away and a completely new canvas set up in its place. To compare Australian and British festivities would be easy, but lazy, and what purpose do such analyses serve? Put simply, Christmas in Australia was unique and unforgettable. Here's why...

We spent Christmas Day at the home of Rob and Jan Bell, who laid on a magnificent spread. Prawns, trout and smoked salmon paved the way for kangaroo, lamb and sausages in the midst of vegetables and sauces of the mouth-watering variety.

Despite unwrapping presents 10,000 miles from London, we could scarcely have felt more at home. Rob and Jan are our Aussie parents and it seemed fitting to end the year with them - as we had started it. Ed and Helen Poulton also shared the day with us, as did Bean Bell (above, top right). You can choose your friends, not your family, although on this occasion if felt as though we had hand-picked both.

Ed and Helen are living in Port Melbourne for six months, so we followed the north-east side of Port Phillip Bay to cast an eye over the area they will call home. Joggers and cyclists were in abundance along the seafront which - to quote Lonely Planet - more closely resembles Brighton than Bondi.

At the start of a year which felt like a voyage into the unknown, one thing I did know was that I wanted to watch the Boxing Day Test at the MCG. This dream was realised on December 27 when we took our seats for Day 2 of the second Test between Australia and Sri Lanka.

The Sri Lankan bowling attack was devoid of dynamism and further wind was removed from their sails when paceman Chanaka Welegedara walked off injured. Spinner Rangana Herath (above) has taken more Test wickets than anyone else in 2012 but he toiled all day without reward. He did, however, provide the day's champagne moment when his brilliant one-handed catch in the deep dismissed Mike Hussey.

Michael Clarke was an injury doubt over Christmas but he made 106 to break Ricky Ponting's record of Test runs scored by an Australian in a calendar year. The Aussie captain now has 1,595 to his name in 2012.

As the day wore on, eyes turned from the field to the stands, where the vast consumption of alcohol was illustrated by the size of the beer snakes (above) proudly held aloft until stewards brusquely intervened.

Noise levels rose in Bay 13 (above) after the tea interval. There was a sizeable police presence in this part of the ground, almost as if they were actively looking for trouble-makers. This was in stark contrast to our experience of the AFL, although it tallied with tales of the police being viewed in a fairly dim light by many Australians.

Our packed train pulled out of Richmond station and Christmas, for another year, was over. We'd eaten prawns, walked on the beach and spent a day at the cricket. In our eyes, these things had made it a truly Australian affair.

New Zealand picture special

As if to provide a microcosm of a year packed with travel, we travelled to New Zealand for four days to celebrate a family birthday. Rather than eulogise about what we saw, I'll show you.

Close to Kaikoura, around 100 seals basked on the rocks.

Fabulous roads along which to drive a camper van.

Company, on two wheels.

Familiar faces at the birthday party (Rachel's mum, centre).

On the way to Arthur's Pass, NZ's highest-altitude settlement.

Traversing the South Island from west to east. Great scenes.

State Highway 73 wriggles towards Christchurch.

A sombre bus tour around Christchurch city centre showed us many of the 900 buildings to be ripped down as a result of damaged sustained during the recent earthquakes.

This display of 185 empty chairs commemorates those who died.

Here stood the Canterbury Television Building, which collapsed and caught fire, killing 115 people.

Pubs remain hauntingly deserted and untouched, with demolition notices plastered to the front doors.

Shipping containers support fragile walls. The CBD is a building site and our tour was the only one operating inside the 'red zone'.

The beautiful ChristChurch Cathedral has been decimated almost beyond the point of restoration. Its future hangs in the balance.

Farewell, Albury North

It is 9.10am. The school bell echoes around an empty playground. Sunlight glints off unbroken puddles. A flock of galahs makes its way, unhurried, across the deserted playing field. Where rubber balls bounced, where shoes scuffed, where rucksacks were flung, silence reigns. Yesterday was the last day of term. And I feel sad.

For, in this year of so many adventures, Albury North Public School has provided my happiest moments. I had the privilege of working as a teacher's aide in kindergarten before moving on to work with the kids in Year 6 (below). These young people made me smile every day. They welcomed me instantly into the classroom, as did their teacher, Michael Fayle.

Working in the school gave me a feeling of belonging - something which had been lacking during my first six months in Australia. Yes, we'd visited some amazing places, but it was only when I 'joined the staff' at ANPS that I ceased being a tourist and truly became an Albury resident. I loved the challenge of helping young people learn. They taught me plenty in return. And my involvement wasn't confined to the classroom, either.

I was a guest judge at the school talent show.


I watched the Year 6 students practice, and perform, their graduation dance.

I made friends. Every one of these young people had a different story to tell and I wanted to listen.

Walking across that empty playground, I knew how much I was going to miss Albury North Public School. To spend two terms (with separate classes), to build relationships, to learn, to joke, to play, to share, to laugh, and then to walk away, will be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

Rachel's exchange brought us to Australia. Alongside vice-principal Adrian Fury, principal Paul Smith (above) and so many others, she has shone. Quel surprise. I can't begin to write her story - she will tell that herself. But it has been in the most unlikely place - the classroom next to Rachel's - where my year in Australia really came alive.

I will always be grateful to Paul for taking a punt on me and inviting me into his school. I couldn't have asked for a better teacher to work alongside than Michael Fayle (above). And I will remember the wonderfully indefatigable Albury North students even when we're on the other side of the world, and they've moved on to high school.

Our time here is almost up. Of course, it will be a thrill to renew acquantainces back home and to catch up on the year we missed in England. But there will always be a special place in my heart for Albury North Public School and the people - young and older - who helped me create such fond memories.
Oh, that our paths should cross again.

Thank you - and goodbye.

Mitta Mitta: so good they named it twice

Advent calendars are open and December is slipping away, but there are still adventures to be had in Australia. Our latest escape from the hustle and bustle of work was through the Victorian High Country, with Peter and Leanne Chalmers (below), in a four-wheel-drive. Leanne works in the office at Albury North Public School - Rachel's exchange workplace.

Our base for the weekend was the small town of Mitta Mitta but we spent most of our time on the move.

Peter expertly guided us down into Lightning Creek (above) and up the other side on numerous occasions as we followed the dirt track through the forest.

Heading up a convoy of three vehicles gave us a chance to view the water crossings from an alternative perspective. We learnt that no descent is truly 'steep' unless "you're hanging in your seat belt" - and we never got close to that on the day.

The places at which we stopped along the way were unsurpisingly deserted and totally peaceful. A picnic lunch was eaten to the accompaniment of birdsong and chinking cutlery. Certainly, this was an Australian experience we'd never have stumbled across of our own accord. For most of the others in our group, this was familiar territory and we felt privileged to be shown outposts which held such significance for them.

This deer was waiting for us around a bend in the track. It sauntered along in front of us before leaping into the undergrowth.

Our home for two nights was Magorra Caravan Park in Mitta Mitta. With the third Test Match between Australia and South Africa on TV and a full roast dinner cooked over heat beads for the whole group on Saturday evening, we were richly entertained.

Peter even gave us a fishing lesson before we left. Another chapter had been written in our 2012 story, completely different to all that had gone before, thanks to a gang of fair dinkum country Aussies.