Congratulations to Thea and Punky for the arrival of Ophelia Rose Gibbs - super pleased for all three of you, love from honoured Godmother.

So Iran may have taken away my access to Facebook, Twitter and now it seems even emailing home is an issue due to Hotmail being down but they haven't figured out that my blogs are on direct feeds! Haha in your face authorities.

So this is to say how pleased I am at the long awaited arival of my oldest and bestest friend/sister's daughter Ophelia Rose, who I have the immense pleasure of being Godmother to. Unfortunately I am traveling to Oz whilst she was expected but that will not stop my commitment to seeing the little one when I can.

This is not a featured update of my travels but a way to communicate to the outside world in this strange media shy land of Iran where they are also shy of women so have to cover them up. Tomorrow I am off to Pakistan via a flight, for political reasons. There I will be free from a headscarve but locked up in a hotel at night due to bombings. Hmmmmmmm. I will also be married and Irish from now on. I'm thinking this is pretty much the only time I'm gonna be wearing a ring on that finger (Post post Feminism) but luckily I'm pretty good at accents. Not that that matters as we have been informed that the only way Pakistanis and Indians understand English is if you talk in an Indian accent?! It's not wrong - it's how they've learned English apparently.

A big happy congratulations again to the Partridge and Gibbs household. I will be seeing you all at the Christening, lotsa love x x x

Ozbus11 from Budapest to Istanbul

The so called real border of Hungary went off without a hitch and it wasn't long before we arrived in Budapest. Here we had our first "walk to the hostel with your bags" which some people without the recommended backpack found a little tricky. It was also our first very basic hostel and first being ripped off by the locals experience at dinner. However if I put a downer on Budapest at first - bear with me as it only got better in the evening. Our Latvian bus driver who is with us until the Iran border said that he would take us to a little local club he knew of.


Ozbusketeers pointing East in the main square of Budapest.

After the surprisingly expensive dinner and managing to pin down our whistful bus driver to take us as a group, we seemed to trek round the city mindlessly. No one knew where we were going, what we were going to, only that it was a club. After half hour of walking we arrived at what looked like a parking lot. We entered through some battered doors being guarded by some heavies. We ascended a stairwell that I can only describe as being something out of a scene from CSI Miami. This wasn't looking good. But it was sort of intriguing. And the further we climbed, the more we could hear the familiar sound of a heavy club base. Until - we reached a level we entered. Through a more populated indoor area, passed a dance floor and up still more stairs. We were on the roof by this point with red lights, table, chairs, a bar, a lot more people and a great view.

Settling down with drinks as a group we all turned out to have a great night. One that can't be found in Lonely Planet. Before long, a few of us were on the dance floor. If we got bored of dancing (and who would with Britpop gold being dished out by the DJ with forgotten Blur tracks) you could visit next door to the Club indie shop. Here they were selling individually designed clothes, jewelery and other accessories. A friend and I invested in a souvenir badge - hers stating she 'hearted' some Hungarian shot and for me, a comic line from 'League of Gentlemen' sketch that was an incredibly random find in a Budapest club. 'You're my wife now' is pinned nicely on my handbag next to the other San Jordi Barcelona badge and Stop Stansted Expansion ones I have acquired.

The next day I headed to the river for a cruise. Lots on option here and I got a basic student deal. An hour round the island in the middle with English commentary. After lunch a few of us met from the group to head to the 'Labyrinth' underneath the castle on the Buda side of the river. Here we looked forward to navigating ancient foundations with only an oil lantern as our light. Turned out to be a sort of Art gallery with many 'humorous' or confusing 'finds' from supposed excavations underneath the castle. It was a lovely experience - not quite a labyrinth though. Bit mis-labelled that one.

The next day and into our second week on the bus we left Budapest heading for Belgrade. I never thought I'd get to visit a city I'd heard so much of on the 10.00 news but when we arrived, there I was, in a recovering bombed out city. With shiny new malls placed slap bang next to remenants of bombed buildings. At the hostel in Belgrade we experienced our next piece of talk-able drama. Our group was split between two hostels and in one of them we had found a young British girl crying her eyes out because she'd had her passport stolen and her friends had gone on without her. Now if my friends had done that - they wouldn't be my friends for long when I returned home. She had been traveling for 3 months with these people but apparently that doesnt mean you stay with each other when in trouble. Also she had not one copy of her passport or photo ID on her. I'm not entirely sure why you come to a place like Belgrade not preparing for the absolute worst but call it lack of experience. Anyway because we're such a handy group of people to bump into on Ozbus, a few of us along with our leader went to the police station to help sort it out.

The next day she was sorted as she came to have breakie with us and we left for Sofia. If I haven't mentioned what we did in Belgrade it's because there's not really anything to do there along with not much to see in Sofia either. The most interesting thing there was the fact that we went to a restaurant that apologised for being so slow with orders because they were only a cafe with one chef. A very funny cafe with a full on Restaurant menu and waitresses that had lost the use of their second hand and had never heard of a tray. Even though there was a walking tour of the city the next day first thing - it wasn't really very impressive and I was starting to lose faith in the sights of Serbia.

Then we arrived in Plovdiv. What a fantastic historic old town. The actual town is quite large but stick to the Roman bits and you can't go wrong. As you'll know from my previous blogs - I can't really go on holiday without bumping into a few Roman sites. Can any of us? The evening there was spent on the outskirts of a Roman amphitheatre watching Serbian interperative dance. Then a few of us got bored with that and left to find dinner. Where we found the need for a good night out. After dinner we headed to local bar where I got ID'd for the first time (thankgoodness for bringing driving licence) and sat down as the only group there with massive beers. Turned out to be the craziest Rock bar ever and got livelier and livelier the later the night got. Many Ozbusketeers woke up with strained neck muscles the next day due to too much headbanging.

So the next day was a THE real border. We were now leaving the E.U. and entering Turkey. Where the lines between East and West begin to blur. The game was to guess how long it took to get through. I guessed way over at 2hours with the winning guess being a questionably accurate 1hr 14mins from Kate, a late guesser. The prize was to kiss Charlie, our 18 year old 'son' of Ozbus. But none of us fancied that prize and we disqualified Kate for insider information anyway. We drove on from the border until we arrived in Istanbul. Our first real cultural city, away from the tired and tested Euro-tourist trail. Or so we thought.

Ozbus11 "Down Under via All Over"

Bleary eyed and headachey from a 4am packing session, pulled up to Embankment in London to meet Ozbus crew and passengers. There was a pretty motley crew standing by Cleopatra's needle as I walked up with my 70 liter backpack plus Eastpak day sack. Trying to spot official Ozbus members for some sort of registration of arrival it was hard to make out who was family waving off relatives and who were passengers. Some were chatty, some were quiet – at 7am it was too early for me to make with the small talk. A quick hello to Phil, our leader for the mammoth 92 day bus journey to Sydney and the traditional family photo with parentals before we bunged our bags into the hold of the coach and set off.

Rolling away from Westminster, Phil made a quick introduction before letting us settle in. But whilst sitting at the back, listening to Phil what should I hear but a kerfuffel from another passenger apparently looking for 'Christine' and franticly looking out of the coach window onto the pavement. It was only Jo Thompson who was travelling with us writing about a midlife crisis Ozbus journey for The Telegraph. I could tell it was going to be an interesting ride. Whilst we let scenes of London roll past us, Phil played us a nice little tune for us. Little did we know how Billy Joel's 'We didn't start the fire' would become our signature tune for the start of the day.

We made a 10am Dover to Calais crossing having made the port in good time. Most of the bus was still pretty quiet with the only exchange between passengers going on with whoever was sitting around Jo. Our first bit of drama was had at Dover port when Jo's name was called over the loudspeaker having left her wallet at a Cafe. The crossing though, went smoothly and it was straight forward driving over the Belgium lowlands to Brugge. We arrived about 4pm and after settling into our hostel rooms, met in the bar for a cycle tour of the city with a celebratory beer after in the oldest pub. Absolutely loved Brugge. Everyone travels by bike and has the quaintest architecture. Some say it isn't somewhere you visit twice owing to it's size but I found myself saying - I'll come back here.

Brugge was only a stopover and the next morning it was a bright and breezy 8.15am start to head to St Goar in the Rhine Valley. I'd like to say that it was at this point that we all started to get to know each other but having been on board with everyone for just a week I feel as if I've always sort of known them. Among the 26 passengers there are 2 Aussies, 2 Irish lasses, a Frenchman, a Norwegian, 2 Germans, a Scots lady, a Canadian, 16 English people and a Kiwi tour leader. A suitably varied bunch ranging in age from the youngest of 18 to two 70 year olds. There are 3 couples, those who have left families behind, those taking career breaks and the familiar young backpacker. The variation in life status only fuels my story-telling spirit but others I think were hoping for a few more youngens traveling.

Arriving in St Goar mid-afternoonish, we sauntered around town for a couple of hours taking in views of the river, the big cuckoo clock and a couple of beers in the sub groups that we attached ourselves to. Luckily this bunch traveling don't seem to be forming cliques though there is a bit of seat hogging going on in the coach. We were staying on a campsite that night but not in actual tents. With the group split into girls, boys and optional caravan upgrade for couples, we were directed to a fairly interesting camping barn set up. It was top and bottom bed platforms with two mattresses laid side by side, fairly loosely divided into cabins. The evening saw us enjoy a traditional dinner of Schnitzel (beat up meat to tenderize) cooked by the wonderfully charismatic owner of the campsite. After dinner we were treated to regional wine tasting hosted by the owner when it became clear that perhaps his charisma was due to a bit too much wine tasting of his own.

Ozbus left St Goar in early morning low valley cloud to make our way to Prague. It was only day 3 and we experienced our first border, albeit a tame one, and money change. I'd heard a lot of Prague and it being the center of true Bohemia from friends but arriving at the city late afternoon, I wasn't overly impressed. Hoping for that to change, Ozbus debarked into the biggest hostel we had stayed in yet. One with it's own currency apparently as we were told that the only way to purchase food and drink was to load our key cards with money only to find out later that they did accept cash at the bar. Most of us stayed in that evening to enjoy the traditional 'pizza' in the hostel Restaurant.

Day 4 was our first free day of non-travel. I nearly missed the optional morning coach trip into the historic center due to a sort of barrage of emails from my parents. Having made it into town, the morning was spent wandering from site to site. In the main square there is an astrological clock that strikes and puts on a sort of show for a tourist crowd. Amongst the many shops and cafes there was one recommended to us for a spectacular terrace. The U Prince was indeed lovely with suitably lovely price tags. As we drunk our valuable small glasses of fizzy drinks we watched a bride and groom pose for their wedding photos in a trellised corner overlooking the rooftops of Prague. It was beautiful and I promised myself that when I have something nice like expendable income, I will come back and stay in that hotel.

Otherwise Prague did not leave a lasting impression on me. We had a good group dinner, good value apart from my Risotto that seemed to be just undercooked rice with a lot of secret sauce. Perhaps I had too many expectations from years of looking forward to be immersed in my spiritual home of true bohemianism. Before long we were off again, this time a short ride away to Vienna. We arrived there around 4pm and after a short walk to our hostel, those of us who wanted to, met for an excursion to the oldest fairground in Europe. Apparently scenes from the The Third Man and Bond have been filmed there. The rides weren't exactly cheap but you didn't have to buy any tokens and the park was fairly quiet no queing - hurrah.

After purging myself on a few classics and one official really scary one, I was tired and went straight to bed after a free 'thanks for staying with us' beer back at the hostel. Out of all the hostels we've stayed at so far, Wombat's in Vienna has provided the best breakfast. There's nothing like a varied choice for breakfast. Our free day here involved a few of us walking round town before deciding what to do. Another girl and I spotted the Leopold Museum which had Klimt and other Art Nouveau artists on display which we headed to late on in the morning. In the Museums Quarter which was where the museum was located, we had a bite to eat and made our way round the exhibition. Towards the end however, I rushed through a few as I wanted to head back to the hostel to make myself look decent for an evening of traditional classical entertainment in a small Opera house. By decent I mean, non- "I've been wearing the same clothes for a good two years now" and slap a bit of the ol' make-up on that I carry with me for such occasions.

That evening was interesting but the free glass of champagne that swayed me to sign up really did taste – free. The Vienna Orchestra that was performing a selection of favourites from Mozart and Straus were very pro with traditional Vienna dress on. We were treated to a few Opera scenes also along with a ballet duo who didn't seem that fussed about their performances. But you know, doing that twice a night maybe nearly every night, who would? And for this reason there was a part of me that wished I was sipping good champagne in a good dress, watching performers really get into the art that they were expressing. I would recommend the night for sure, but I think it was tainted a little with the aspect of tourism. Vienna as a whole though had a very fine effect on me and I can see myself wanting to explore the city in greater detail in years to come.

The next morning I barely managed to fit all my first washed clothes back into my bag before rushing down to the coach for an 8.30 departure. We were on our way to Bratislava only about an hour away and down the River Danube for morning coffee. Here was another quaint little snapshot of a historical town center that had an atmosphere about it that I found appealing. Another town to add to the list. But only an hour was had here before were all back on the bus again, heading for a 'real' border.

Sunseeds - the final chapter

Back in the real world Sunseeds seems to be an amazing distant memory. Even as I said goodbye a few final times to other Sunseeders at Almeria Bus Station it seemed as if the adventure was already a world away. After the first week and a half life became a happy routine on the project. I would flit in and out of Garden tasks one day to helping the Alternative Technology and Maintenance Staff the next. Being woken for breakfast by didgerydoos and eating porridge (everyday!) became second nature. I don't think there was an afternoon when the part-time volunteers weren't in the Canya pool or sunbathing after lunch. The reclaimed village and it's way of life did at the time seem so idyllic but it didn't occur to me just how much until I'd returned home and switched on the television.

An advert was on, something about a conditioner for L'oreal. And I just didn't understand what they were saying. I couldn't work out why they were telling me all this, that and the other about this 'super product' because I knew that there was absolutely no need for such an item. I'd been living for a month in dirt, just washing my hair when it needs it, not bothering with brushing, conditioning or straightening and I hadn't died. No one had been offended by my unkempt appearance. I had had absolutely no drawback from living without conditioner at all. So why was L'oreal telling me otherwise. Making it look all super fantastic and necessary. And that's the trick isn't it. L'oreal has the key – that beauty is the goal and to not achieve that is horrendous. But who are they to define beauty?! When we are all different and wonderful in our own rights. In this world everyone panders to that. At sunseeds no one pandered to it. No one believed in it. We were all our own beings livings to our own standards – not one the a company had created to make money from us. My hair is unkempt now, bouncing with curls I've crimped myself. My clothes are old and cheap. And I'm happy.


But back to life at Sunseeds and I'm struggling to remember how my four weeks passed. Highlights included playing football with the locals from the nearest town on one of our activity evenings. Considering our pretty isolated location on a mountainside overlooking a valley we managed, as a group, to get around a bit. One of the first outings I remember (not to the town for football) was being taken to another town to pick up horse manure for the gardens. Usually only a couple of people would help Dara the gardener out with this but the whole group was roped in for this trip for one lovely reason – we were heading onto the beach after. A great little group of us went to to the supermarket to buy food and then had a picnic on the beach. We all had the obligatory swim and then the sun set behind us whilst in away from work chat mode.


The next week we had the opportunity to visit the beach again. This time some of us were in full on party mode as we celebrated Las Fallas with the Spanish with an all night reggae/drum 'n' bass session on the beach. Now I'm not a huge drum 'n' bass fan – I've been know to actually fall asleep at clubs where its been played before. So I was a little nervous about the outing but determined to have a good time anyhow. Oh my god – I was up with the rest of them until the end of the set at 5am! What a night. And then what a great sleep next to a campfire on the sand with my poncho draped over me only being awoken by the morning sun.


Back at the 'ranch' my final week was punctuated by a cob oven building course run by the maintenance staff. Sunseeds runs many an informative course on aspects of Sustainable living and if you visit www.sunseeds.org.uk you can find what they offer along with more information on what they do and how to get involved. On this course I learned how to lay bricks and use mortar. I learned that mortar is mostly alkali. I did some hard ass sawing for the pizza paddle, some stomping of straw into clay for the cob mix. Expert layering of cob mix round a sand dome mold were acquired along with the creative side of all on the course allowed to show as we decorated to outside surfaces with reclaimed broken tiles.

It was a rush to finish the oven in a week as some of us on the course were rather distracted by the fires that were breaking out in the local area. The first was a few miles to the north of us, the next a little bit closer to the west, the next a bit closer still to the south until the village residents worst fears were realised; one broke out the other side of the valley from us. We were aware of the fire as we noticed the helicopters flying with their buckets and as we watched, the fire crept down the mountainside ebbing closer to the canya covering that if lit, would race up our side of the valley and destroy the village. I found it all rather exciting but other villagers were not so amused. The encroaching fire caused a great amount fear in those who'd put their lifesavings into the restoration of their holiday homes and panic in project members who didn't know quite what to make of the situation. What is not clear until you reach the Sunseeds project is that it is very much part of an existing village community. And it was with this fire that the community came together with great haste. We all worked together to fill water and sand buckets, just in case. And were on alert for a call from the police to evacuate. Thankfully the fire was brought under control by what I have to say is an amazing Spanish fire fighting service in the region. However a couple of weeks after I had left, the village was evacuated though I heard that even then the fire was very much under control aswell.


My time at Sunseeds has been one of the most enjoyable and eyeopening experiences of my life. I will always remember the funky solar showers, that “squatting is the way forward”, nighttime poker sessions, making bread, ipod rights in the kitchen, mamouth bike rides up mountain and down valley into town, workshops in the yurt inc. acrobalance, bikes and free-dance. The fires, the village raves, the canya pool, the canya bridge, the canya in general, picking blueberries, beach raves, blue paint, jam sessions with makeshift bongos, homemade didgerydoos and broken guitars, running out of eletricity, loos with a view, Pedro the dog, wild boar and so many other memories that will be stored in the recesses of my mind for years to come.

Sunseeds was my final adventure in Spain and what a fabulous way to end my time there. If you look back at some of my earlier blogs you'll see that after Spain I was hoping to travel Africa overland and onto Australia from South Africa. Unfortunately this wasn't possible and I had to find something else to get me Down Under. Thankfully I did. Its called Ozbus and I'm on it right now.

Sunseeds Part 2 - Compost Loos and Didgerydoos

The compost loos are not half bad actually. Getting to know them has been symbiotic part of getting to know myself. N o – I'm being just slightly facetious here but still from white tiled plumbed in bathroom in the city to a canya/bamboo jungle shack took a bit of getting used to. But that's all it was – getting used to something different. Getting used to squatting over a hole and 'flushing' with sawdust. Getting used to going at certain times in the day when you know there will be least flies around. Optimum times I have found are first thing in morning just before breakie and just as it gets dark. But not as it gets dark as finding way there, even guided by torch is a tad tricky, what with the terracing of this mountainside Sunseed clings to.

But the first week was all about acclimatising myself to the Sunseed routines, not just the compost loos. Officially 'wake up' was at 6.45am but rarely did this happen and we were more or less called out from our slumber at 7am. The staff members would do wake up and take charge of each day's duties. There are 8 members of staff on the project at the moment but the number of staff and volunteers varies greatly. The 8 include
• Project Manager,
• Sustainable Living co-coordinator,
• Appropriate Technology co-ord.
• two co-ords. of Eco/Construction and Maintenance,
• Organic Gardens co-ord.
• Drylands co-ord.
• Education/Publicity/Fundraising co-ord.
Take from these titles what you can – it's not until you take part in life at Sunseeds that you understand and appreciate the different responsibilities these members take on. As this is a job but it is not well paid and more of a lifestyle choice and belief in what you are doing that keeps you on the project.

In my first week I mostly spent time helping the Organic Gardens co-ord. Volunteers chose which staff members they would like to help at 'job allotment', being most commonly called out from the dinner table “job ally ally ally” after lunch. Here, whoever was on wake up that day states what they have been doing in their field of work since their last wake up. Then they state what they plan to do the following morning and so do all other staff members.

The last volunteers to arrive are then invited to say what activity they would like to help with. Morning work starts at 7.30am (ehum closer to 8am on somedays though I arrived just as early starts were imperative to be sheltered in the hottest part of the day). I helped out in the gardens doing many a fulfilling earthly thing until break was called at 10am and then back to finish before lunch at 1pm. Though with the heat we generally stopped at 12am.

My first day on the job I was compost turning which involved one simple technique of layering. Layer 1- old compost from a neat square box next door. Layer 2- Horse manure. Layer 3- a watering can of human piss collected from the compost loos and urinal 'house' on site. Hurah. Next day I plant saplings which meant preparing raised beds (ie weeding – lots), aerating soil which baked in sun ain't that easy, digging neat holes equidistant apart, filling with manure, watering, planting saplings in then watering again. Lovely.

The next day I was told to basically make mud cakes. Well my exact task was to rebuild the wall of the irrigation line amongst the raised beds. This involved water in a bucket, gathering soil, mixing to make a great paste and spreading onto a bank in a particular fashion. I forgot how fabulous mud could be.

One of the first things I had to get used to at Sunseeds was the simple nature of taking part in nature and coming out of it and reflecting. This may sound slightly abstract but somehow being thrust into this environment that was just teaming with life brought about in me that a year living in Madrid just hadn't produced. I mean sure a lot has happened if I compare now to setting off from Weymouth in Feb 2008 but somehow, this part of the journey all seems to be culminating in Sunseeds.
I am lucky in the fact that I have been surrounded by the most individual and generous people I've ever met. To say they are all kind would be sugar coating them as persons that I think insults what they bring to the project. To say they are all so loving would I think do more of the same. But they are all of these positive attributes of personality mixed with their various personal vices – what else makes people who they are.

I was first thrust into the group on an outing to the local town to play Volleyball. We got there to find the net had been taken down on the court and an improvised game of handball was devised before moving onto the traditional game of footie. Each night of the week seems to be mostly punctuated with some sort of group activity which is great for us all working together and getting to know each other.

The eve after volleyball we had an acro-balance session lead by one of the full-time volunteers from the UK who had previous experience on the mean streets of Bristol. This workshop was one of those lovely life surprises where you venture into a place hoping to find one thing and find something closely related but you never truly realized how much you liked discovering about. Friday night is Film night at Sunseeds and everyone ventures up to the Yurt owned by one of the villagers where a projection screen is installed. With the aid of a Sunseeder's mini projector and laptop plus the comforts of floor cushions, popcorn and wine, my first Friday we enjoyed Orson Welles in The Third Man.

HELL YEAH – my movie knowledge I know is sadly lacking of all that it could be for I am an avid fan of the moving image. For a long time I was black and white phobic – but this was as a child and colour is an important stimulus. I always remember being so disappointed watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time to find it opened in Black and White. Judge me if you like for that but after my first Yurtish movie night – god – Orson Welles is immense!


My first weekend here was punctuated with a little morning work on Sat and then an impromptu picnic on the other side of the valley overlooking the village. Just for good measure a few Sunseeders were getting in on some Ddgerydoo action at another house in the village in their free time having signed up for a course on making them, run by a Dutch village settler. The evenings on weekends generally see Sunseeders relaxing and taking in all that their beautiful surroundings offer. A walk to an abandoned village here, a siesta in the meditation garden there. You know, simple things that make this part of the world a little piece of paradise. One I'm learning to cherish and take responsibilities for.