If the guide book was to be believed Tangiers and Morocco was going to be hell on earth with the streets full of pick pockets and husslers - this is not a country for women travelling alone!  Armed with this information and with all valuble documentation and money secreted away in various body crevices we took our tentative first steps into Morocco and were met by no one. So the reported crack down by the recently formed tourist police seemed to have done the trick - in Tangiers at least.

Our intial move was to get out of Dodge so to speak and we headed to the imperial city of Meknes. We felt like the only tourists in town the next day as we strolled through the medina until the tour bus rolled into the viewing screen of my camera. The souk was a pretty quiet affair with Marny quickly learning how to extract ones self from the clutches of a carpet salesman!

In search of something bigger and brighter we moved onto the next imperial city of Fes and a guided tour of the medina and souk. We started on one side and came out on the other - in between we walked down a series of twisted alleys past the various souks - ceramics, herbs, blacksmiths, tannery and leather shops, clothes, shoes, rugs, veges, meat, pretty much everything really, some more striking on the senses than others.

With Marny feeling a few sore muscles from her run in Granada and with a hot spot tip from Gail we made our way to the thermal resort of Moulay Yacoub. An afternoon of sauna, hot pool and massage had us emerging rejuvenated with all toxins expunged from our systems - fantastic!

The following day Marny had enough of my snoring and ego and decided to head for Rabat while I continued south to Ouarzazate and the hills. I made my way to the bus station to book my ticket and was relieved to see a large road map of Morocco on the wall. With us both standing in front of the map, me pointing at Ouarzazate on the map and saying "wa-za-zart" (actual pronounciation) and the ticket seller nodding vigorously I thought great that was easy. I was then handed a ticket for Rissani?! Searching frantically on the map I found it - about 500km's away in the desert! With the ticket salesman standing in front of the map and me pointing first at Ouarzazate then Rissani I did my best arabic "what the ...?". He put on his glasses (!!!) and began nodding vigorously again and saying "Rissani". Repeating this a few times I could see things were going no where so got out the guide book and had a read having never heard of Rissani before - not too much of a detour I decided and it was on the way to Todra Gorge. So I relented, Rissani and the desert it was.

A trip to the internet cafe in the afternoon soon revealed the drama of typing on a moroccan keyboard as noted by Jo on her trip the previous month - the buggers have moved the a, w and m keys for a start which makes touch typing a nightmare!

The overnight bus trip to Rissani was an uneventful affair and I paired up with four Poles to go and spend a night in the desert. My new Polish friends had decided to spend the night in the dunes in a berber tent, I preferred the mud and straw hut option despite the fact that a number of the surrounding Auberges had collapsed or been washed away killing seven people and 50 camels during the recent rain and resultant flood from the water converging in the wadis. We actually looked out over a lake at the sand dunes. But being the only one in the camp and with some good old Moroccan coercion I relented and decided to join the others in to the desert for the night. The camel ride over the dunes was great although a little taxing on the behind. The climb up the dune for the sunset was a lung burster but we were rewarded with a fantastic chicken tangine in our tent that night care of our berber guide. The morning brought the reality of sleeping in the desert home as we woke to find sand in every body crevice and cavity thanks to a decent breeze which had blown up overnight. I was still shaking out sand when I rolled into Tinerhir that night.

Rising early the next day I caught a taxi up to todra gorge - a narrow gorge with vertical sides rising hundreds of metres up either side of the road and two hotels they had managed to squeeze into the gap. It was also here where I met a very interesting aussie couple, Trevor and Marg, who had been travelling since 1991! They declined to join me on my walk over the top of the gorge instead sending Dan, a Canadian, to join me for the three hour stroll. In the afternoon we walked down through the palmeraies - a long strip of green oasis surrounded by rock, much talk of cold beer hastened our return to Tinerhir where we caught up with our aussie pals for a well deserved beer.

I had a rest day in Ouarzazate then it was on to Marrakesh for an assault on the senses. I stayed in the medina at the Hotel Ali which as promised had the characteristics of a bus station! Djemaa el-Fna square was a relatively quiet affair during the day with plenty of fresh orange juice sellers whilst at night it was chocker block full of drugged snakes being charmed, pick pockets, food stalls and people. My souk tour resulted in the purchase of a wooly hat, a head scarf, and a pair of hairy sandals.

On to the hills and the village of Imlil next where I meet a couple of female lawyers from Casablanca who gave me the low down on the in's and out's of Moroccan society. Also managed to get a bout of delhi belly here which put the hand brake on my hopes of summitting Jebel Toubkal. No problem though as the cool air of Imlil was a refreshing change to the desert.

A must on any new country's to do list is to go to the beach, so I did. I arrived in Essaouira the day after their music festival to find the place still packed with people. Thankfully they were all making their way out of town and the place returned to its normal touristy sleepy hollow. I teamed up with a dutch couple, Paul and Rolina, and took in a few of the local sites including indulging in a hammam. Paul and I duely presented ourselves with some idea of what was in store for us with Rolina being the guinea pig earlier in the day during the women's session. The basic sequence of events during a hammam is to have warm water thrown over you in buckets then an olive oil based soap applied to soften the skin, more buckets of warm water then a little skinny guy proceeds to scrub all the dead and in some areas not so dead skin off your body. This is then followed by more buckets of water, soap, more water, then (just for the guys we discovered) buckets of cold water. The end result is silky smooth skin and some areas of "carpet burn" where they got a bit too enthusiastic!

With my cultural immersion complete I spent the remaining time in Essaouira sunning myself and enjoying a couple of cold beers.

Last stop on this part of the tour is Casablanca where I plan on resting up in anticipation for South America!

My departure from France was a round about affair on an overnight train from Antibes to Toulouse, a train back to Nabonne then the final leg to Varlencia arriving mid afternoon. The final leg passed relatively quickly as I chatted in my shocking spanish to the lady sitting next to me who spent a lot of time laughing.

Valencia is home to the Mercado Central - a huge market with fish, meat, hams, veges, nuts, vino, fruit, you name it they've got it. I took a look at the America's cup village which seems to be the usual big sheds with high tech yachts being lifted in and out of the water with skirts on.

The water front would be fantastic on a fine day - horizontal drizzle put a bit of a dampener on my visit. The weather did improve before I left - some of the locals were so happy they dressed up in white, formed a circle and took turns doing a dance/karate type act in the middle. Not too sure what that is all about?!

My immediate reaction on seeing Malaga as my overnight bus pulled in was to get on the next bus to Tarifa - the wind and kite surfing capital of Spain. A pretty quiet and laid back place with bars and cafes tucked in little narrow streets and walkways.

Next on the itinerary was Cadiz, formerly a great trading port of Spain back in the days of conquest and pillage. Whilst in town I took the opportunity to see the Camera obscura - something for all those binocular enthusiasts out there - it's basically a peroscope in a tower which you can zoom in and out onto a horzontal dish about 2 metres in diameter. If that makes sense. The next bizarre thing I saw was a huge cross mounted on a box being marched through the streets by four guys with a band in tow. Not sure what that was about but I imagine the 30 guys under the box (you could only see their feet) were thinking about all the other things they could be doing on a Saturday night!

On to Seville next - you can feel the relaxed confident attitude of the city as soon as you arrive - so within half an hour of arriving i had decided to flag Lisbon and stay here for a few days. I spent the Sunday afternoon cruising the Tapa's bars and partaking in some people watching with the locals. In the evening I took in a Flamenco show - two hours of full on dancing with attitude - super stuff!

Heading north I stopped at Trujillo and found the place pretty much deserted - it's not often you find you have a whole fortress to yourself. Needless to say it was a quiet night in town.

Madrid was a massive assault on the senses after Trujillo with people everywhere. Marny and I managed to meet up in an internet cafe whilst I was sending her an email to find out what had happened - flight delayed.

We took in the big three art museums - in one afternoon - which left us both in a semi vegetative state which may explain the large night out that followed. Our day trip to Toledo the following day was a late start whilst feeling a bit below average. Our day was a bit subdued due to our conditon but improved dramatically after devouring a plate of BBQ ribs.

Last stop on the tour of spain was Granada to see the Alhambra. A pretty impressive site with its fortress and many palaces not to mention the acres and acres of manicured gardens. Loved the free nibbles with the beers at the tapas bars too.

So ends Spain, on to Morocco next.

Having mulled over my Italy options I decided to do a big travel day which started at 7:30am in Chania/Hania in Crete, included two bus rides, two flights and two train rides which resulted in a 9:30pm arrival in Naples.

The couple of Italians I had met whilst on tour had recommended Ercolano over Pompei so I took their advice and made a visit the following day. Ercolano is apparently better preserved than Pompei and also a lot smaller due to the fact that there is a town built on top of most of it.

The next day I headed back to Rome via Cassino, the town famous for the battle of Monte Cassino with its monastry which got pulverised during said battle. Armed with a solid breakfast of cafe con leche and chocolate crossiant I headed for the hill and was thankfully able to dump my pack at a friendly hotel on route where the concierge strongly suggested I should take a bottle of water if I intended to walk up the hill. The guys at the tourist office gave me all the information, maps etc including where to catch the bus. I explained I was from New Zealand and would walk up - after all Leek did. So with bottle of water in hand I set off at route march pace up the 9k´s of switch backs. About and hour and a half later, having been passed by a number of buses and now bathed in sweat I reached the summit where the guy at the top explained that the monastry was closed for lunch. "No problem" I explained, "I actually came for the view" and not a bad view it was. Once again I was able to put map to ground from the books I had read on the battle.

With the view taken in I made my way back down and did the only sensible thing upon reaching the bottom which was to consume a large bottle of beer.

Next stop was the Commonwealth war cemetary which like all the others I have visited was immaculately kept and contained a lot of headstones. Very humbling.

Onto Rome where I arrived late in the day and found the place overflowing with gringos hence I was only able to get accommodation for one night. So with one day in Rome I started early the next day with a 7:15am arrival at the Vatican to beat the crowds. I turned down the offer to attend the confessional due to time constraints and took in the view of Rome from the dome - spotting all the places of interest as listed in the Da Vinci Code. A brisk walk around to the Vatican museum and St Pauls Basillica proved to be just that - a brisk walk as I discovered that the place was closed - only religious zealots would be able to dream up a rolling 6th day closure system! Then it was a walk through the streets taking in the sights like the Pathenon, Trevi fountain and Roman Palontine ending at the Colusseum where I came upon que´s which would put a smile on any englishman´s face. By what could only be called luck I had been to the Palontine prior and purchased my ticket which happened to include entry to the Colusseum which meant I could take the vastly shorter "ticket already purchased" que and strolled past the literally hundreds of people waiting to buy a ticket.

With my whirlwind tour of Rome complete I made my way north to Cinque Terre where I settled into the village of Riomaggiore and commenced my pre-"coastal stroll" preparation with pizza and beer. The following morning I commenced the 12k stroll along the coast after a hearty breakfast of chocolate crossiant and caffe con leche. I mean how hard can it be the girl on the TV travel show did it? The stroll went very well up to the approach of the third village of Corniglia which involved ascending steps which tallied well into the hundreds. A rest and rehydration stop was called for and a large bottle of beer consumed. The track to the next village was flat and level for about the first 150 metres then the climb commenced. Nothing too drastic but it still required some effort and explained the slightly longer time for distance given. I arrived in Vernazza feeling pretty good aided some what by the fact that I had been descending rather than climbing for the previous half hour - in good spirits I downed a slice of pizza and bottle of water before making the final push to Monterosso. I should actually note that the scenery is quite magnificent along this little area of coast line and well worth the walk. Back on the trail I discovered that the final section was not fully completed - or at least that´s what it seemed like with some areas more like sheep tracks. Fortunately New Zealands DOC are not responsible for the Cinque terre otherwise they would have excavators digging a minimum 3 metre wide super highway around the side of the hill. I´m also guessing that the girl on the TV travel show didn´t walk this section as the trail now became a series of climbs and descents in the baking sun through the bush which prevents the cooling breeze reaching you. The relatively enormous village of Monterosso was a welcome site as I walked right through it to the train station which some sadistic bastard put on the northern most point of the town - the only train station along the route where I could book a train to Nice.

With train ticket booked, a gelato and bottle of beer consumed I made my way back south when commonsense prevailed and I stopped at a cafe. Having decided that it was still too hot to start off again I consumed a bottle of water, and another couple of beers. Feeling a bit guilty about the number of beers consumed I figured I´d better walk them off rather than take the train back to Riomaggiore. The going on the trail was a bit better in the afternoon with less people out. On route into the village of Manorola I came across a Melbourne couple, Graham and Ella, with friendly banter ensuing. The end result was a couple of refreshing drinks at a nice wee bar, coincidently the first one, over looking the bay in Riomaggiore. By the time Graham realised that they hadn't seen the final plaza they had to catch the train back to Levanto to see if their car was where they left it and not towed or wheel clamped. Guess you guys will have to come back.

I continued rehydrating into the small hours safe in the knowledge I could sleep on the train the next day.

By the way still having drama's downloading photos so check for these in due course.

Right, second go at writing this - computer crashed when downloading the photos - bugger!

Being a flashpacker and all I made my way to crete by plane, landing in Heraklion/Iraklio, not sure which really as the Cretans seem to have two names for things. Decided to stay the night and view the reportedly best minotaurian site in the world - Knossos. Being my first and only minotaurian site I would concur with this.

I moved onto Chania/Hania the next day (note two names again) where I discovered gringos everywhere. Very cool old venetian town with lots of little narrow streets and alleys which I explored and found some good mousaka and house red.

I joined the bus loads of gringos and headed to the Samaria gorge the next day which is apparently a very nice little walk. After passing the masses and negotiating the flailling leki poles which threatened to spear you or take out an eye at any time I managed to get a bit of space and enjoy the 16.7k stroll which was all the more enjoyable by being downhill.

The walk ended at Agia Roumeli, will a couple of hours to wait for the ferry and after a refreshing swim I proceeded to a nice bar/restaurant overlooking the water and rehydrated.

The ferry dropped us at Sfakia, the beach where the allies were evacuated during WW2, with the return bus trip taking us along the road which they had to walk up on the retreat.

On Sunday I headed off to visit the battlefields at Maleme and Galatos and bumped into a few old kiwi soldiers who were on a tour and got to hear a few stories at the place where it happened which was amazing. Having read up on the battle of crete before arrival and the few stories that Pop told me it was great to put map to ground so to speak.

Next stop Italy.