The start of the 30 hour bus.

I decided to leave it there with the last post to give you a break and start a fresh with the next part of the story. This one is called the start 30 hour bus. Travelling from Madrid to Accra January 2012.  

On the train, from Tangiers to Casablanca we were offered yoghurt from a little girl, then she stared at us along with her mother, almost the whole way. And we slept. It was out of my control, my eyes were so heavy I must have slept for 3 hours. When I woke up I felt like I could run a marathon. I needed that sleep. There are so many travel guides and stories to scare travellers, don’t sleep, hide your belonging;, keep an eye out all the time. I slept like I was in a coma, I think James slept too, even if he was awake he would have been too tired to do anything anyway. Sometimes I think those stories are just there to scare you. The train we were on passed through Rabat, a marble railway station. Cream marble and very well dressed business people, such a contrast to everything else we had seen along the way.

We pulled up outside an entrance in an alleyway. The cab driver knew we were looking for a hostel, and what we got when we arrived was pretty close to it. 2 very, I don’t want to call them dodgy, 2 interesting bedfellows, 2 men who had a striking appearance that did not resonate feelings of trust. There we go. James and I, dazed from everything, decided to book one room, with twin beds for 2 nights to find our feet. We paid in advance and were taken up to our room. Now, this part I feel kind of bad about, I hold a level of guilt, but I feel like the whole situation of our time in Casablanca the guilt can be somewhat resolved. One of the greasy men from the reception took us up to the room, insisting on carry my bag. (I work in a hotel and often carry the bags of the guests up to their rooms, and have no problem carrying my own bag). But he insisted and I didn’t want to be rude. Well. He took us up to our room and it was nice enough. As he was leaving and we were thanking him, he started saying farmey farmey farmey. What? Sorry I don’t understand. He started rubbing his hands together and continued saying far-mey far-mey farrrr- meeee. Oh right, well, we had nothing. Not even euros to give him, so we apologised and thanked him for bringing up our bags. He trudded off, very unhappy with us.

The taxi ride from the station over to the hotel was less than brilliant. I don’t know what I was expecting of Morocco or Casablanca, but the amount of filth and rubbish blew me away. We needed to find our feet, but I had notions of Casablanca being like the movie, sunset romances and Humphrey Boggart, not rubbish. It was all white rubbish, like plastic bags and paper. The buildings were are very similar in style to Madrid, but nowhere near as high, only 2-3 stories, as opposed to what seemed like 6-7 stories in Madrid. I also noticed that the buildings were white as opposed to more of a cream colour in Madrid. I guess that makes sense as Casablanca is white house.

I don’t remember much else about it, apart from being taken by the taxi somewhere we weren’t expecting to go. We had no say in the matter either, he was driving and we were in his control. He parked out the back of an alley way entrance. And that was it.

When James and I came to our senses we realised we didn’t want to spend 2 nights there. We wanted to keep going, apart from the shock, it still wasn’t ‘Africa’ wild and free like we had been waiting for. We weren’t in ‘it’ yet and we wanted to be, a little too impatiently.

I had a shower, and James went downstairs to the ‘reception’ desk to ask if we could check out the next day, not 2 days later, we’d already paid, but we only wanted one night. He came back up and said well, we can check out tomorrow, but the guy said he has already taken all the cash in the til to the bank, and can’t give us any back. We are to go to the manager in the morning and he will sort it out for us. Ok, well, we don’t really have a choice then.

When we had freshened up, we ventured out. I don’t remember carrying a map, but I’d told James the best way not to get lost was to look behind you when you turn a corner, then you’ll be able to find your way back easier. It’s not very good advice, but it had been working fine for me in my 6 months of travel leading up to this trip, so why shouldn't it work now?

We walked through the streets. Avoiding the rubbish, we were heading for the bus station, as the train could take us no further. The bus station was at the end of small road, there is a small stall type shop, selling newspapers and snacks, a small waiting area with about 30 seats, a baggage delivery desk for larger items and a booking desk. We spoke to someone about traveling as far south as the bus could take us. We told her we were heading for the border to Mauritania. Before this trip I hadn’t even heard of Mauritania, or the Western Sahara, I didn’t know anything about Mali or Burkina Faso, and suddenly we were about to be there.

The lady behind the desk had very little English, but more than we expected. On a small scrap of paper she wrote down the details of the next bus. We had a look, and decided to have something to eat in a nearby restaurant and decide on our plans. She told us we should book it soon as it does tend to fill up.

We went to what seemed like a kebab shop, it was open on 3 sides except for the counter. We sat in the fast food style restaurant seating, ate our dinner while cats ran around the floor and contemplated the price of the ticket, verses our alternatives. For about AU$50 each we could get from Casablanca to Daklah and it would take 8 hours. That’s ok I guess, 8 hours on a bus, at least we’d be there by the end of the next day. Then if all went well we'd be on the Iron Ore train riding into the depths of Mauritania by the weekend. We kept eating, talking, taking it all in and deciding.

Then, one of us realised she hadn’t just written the times on the sheet, she’d written the dates as well. This bus wasn’t going to take us 8 hours, it was going to take us 32 hours. Over 30 hours on a bus is a very different story. After the initial shock and fits of laughter, then more shock and the reality sunk in, we’d come this far, what’s a little more adventure. Plus what’d we’d had planned for the next 5 weeks, 30 hours on a bus through the desert wasn’t such a big deal, was it?

We walked back to the bus station, confirmed the dates and times, and bought our tickets. The next morning we found the manager of the hotel, as requested the night before. We wanted our money back. Well, what a surprise, he was in the real entrance to the hotel and what a palace it was. Covered in marble and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. We were definitely duped by the taxi driver and the 2 odd fellows at the reception in the alleyway the night before. They did a good job taking us in through the service entrance, if they’d brought us in the front door we’d have turned around and walked out. I don’t remember how much we paid for the room, but it wasn’t that nice.

We spoke to the manager and told him our conversation the night before, he apologised, there was nothing he could do, and he couldn’t refund our money. But he did give James a note on a scrap of paper that had the date and his signature, and it said that the hotel owed us one night’s stay on them to replace the money they couldn’t give us back. HA. An IOU from a swanky hotel. Almost 3 and a half years later James still has that scrap of paper in his wallet, with no intention of going back.

We packed up our bags and left the hotel for the bus. I remember spending the morning searching and searching for a place that had a printer, but I have no memory of what we needed to print. We walked everywhere, it wasn’t a confirmation for the bus, it wasn’t a hotel booking, as once again we had no hotel booked, you’d think we would have learnt.

We got on the bus, it was almost full. We had one banana each, a coke and a mars bar each. That was it, for 30 hours. We guessed the bus would stop somewhere but we had no one to ask, and no way of finding out. James was in the aisle, and I was on the window. There was a man on the other side of the aisle next to James who had spent some time in Canada and had picked up on us speaking in English, but we didn't find that out until later.

The bus pulled away from the terminal and we were on our way. Our journey was completely in their hands. I was still writing in the same diary I had bought 2 months earlier in Warsaw. There is a page with a little dot – Casablanca, and another dot a bit further down the page, Daklah. But we had no way of knowing if that was actually where we were heading. We could have been going in the other direction completely. We drew maps on the back of the seats in front of us and giggled, worried. At least we didn’t have any accommodation booked, so if we were going the wrong way, we weren’t going to waste any more money on accommodation we didn’t use.

About 3-4 hours into the journey the bus stopped in Marrakesh, the driver made an announcement and everyone started getting off the bus. We looked at each other. We were both starving, but had he said a 15minute break, or be back at quarter past? The man who had spent time in Canada told us to go get something to eat, there might not be another chance for a while.

I remember at one point James said to me, what if they take our bags off, what if they steal our things? All I could say was, well there is nothing we can do about it now.

In that short break we ventured across the street to experience our first taste (EVER) of street food. We had the most amazing bread, Turkish style flat bread, like a focaccia, and a tagine. Wow. What an experience that was in itself. We bought a post card for mum, and got back on the bus. When would it stop again? Another 4 hours? Were we going in the right direction?

Part 3 to come.

The first time I cut my own hair - a true story from January 2012

James and I were planning the trip of a lifetime. We had 2 weeks to toss the ideas around, and then 10 full days of solid planning. With that much dedication, that much research, what could go wrong? Everything it seems, everything that could go wrong. And so right at the same time. In hindsight luck was on our side.

Madrid was our location, Accra was our destination and 6 weeks was our time frame.

Overland was our passage.

Mum left Madrid on January the 7^th 2012. And I had organised to be in Accra, Ghana by early March. James, as James does had a brilliant idea. We would travel by bus and train, overland from Madrid to Accra, where he would see me off, then he would continue traveling through Africa alone, and meet me back in Accra 5 months later, where we would journey back to Europe.

Mum was in tatters when she said goodbye at the airport. No amount of persuading could stop us, no amount of mum’s advice could deter us; we were set and ready to roll. With no idea.

We checked into a small hostel in Madrid, about a 10 minute walk to Plaza del Sol and the rest of central Madrid. I really enjoyed Madrid, more so the second time around. I found the city to be an architectural delight, the food was wonderful and of course, the sun was shining.

We had a fairly decent list of to dos before our departure. The first job, to purchase a lonely planet guide, or equivalent for West Africa. What countries would we be travelling through? Where exactly is Ghana? How long will this take us? Sierra Leone? Cote d Voir? Holy shit, we’d heard about these countries from movies like Blood Diamond, were we actually serious about travelling through there? Don’t they carry machine guns? And chop people’s hands off?

That can’t be everyone, there’s gotta be some nice people around. I mean, look at those beaches! Look at the scenery. We can’t not go for the sake of a couple of stories we’d heard.

So after the initial shock, we decided to have a look at stories from other travellers, where had they gone, what had they done, what had they experienced?

We found a few blogs and websites by some travellers in recent years. 2 guys from Denmark, I think travelled overland across Europe and down through West Africa down to South Africa for the 2010 Would Cup. They seemed to have an amazing time, their journey, their stories and their advice was really quite helpful.

We found a few more stories, tips and advice. We read through it in the evenings sitting in the little café come bar below our hostel. The more we read the more confident we got, why couldn’t we spend 8 hours crossing one border in the Sahara? And the ideas grew, the more we learnt about the possibilities, suddenly we were going to take the Iron Ore train 12 hours right into the thick of Mauritania, across to Timbuctoo. Then trudge our way through the dessert into Mali and onto Burkina Faso, then south into Ghana and over to Accra. What happened to the beaches?

By the request of mum, we checked government travel advice websites. The Australian Government website had West Africa as a NO GO ZONE, completely in red. We checked why and they listed a kidnapping somewhere in the middle. The British Government website had specific areas not to visit, don’t visit Timbuctoo, 2 Brits were kidnapped and murdered in this area.

Ok so Timbuctoo is off the list. Thanks mum.

Through our extensive research, it seemed all visas could be gained at either the borders or at the capital cities on our way through. From what we read, it all seemed a piece of cake. We would get the Ghana visa in Madrid, as that was the most important one, the one I needed for the longest time, and James needed to use his to re-enter.

We found the Ghanaian embassy after a monstrous trek. The Madrid train line, changing trains and navigating through what can be best described as the international business district. I remember, we asked the concierge outside quite a swanky hotel if he could direct us, he just waved us off up the street; another a little further up took us inside to their information desk and showed us on the map where to go. The building, as I remember, was almost completely unmarked.

I have walked into many unmarked buildings on my travels looking for something; a hostel, a doctor, a person, a café. My memory, which could be off as it is more than 3 years ago that I am writing about, we walked into this building which only had the street number outside, no indication it hosted the Ghanaian Embassy. We walked into this building and I think it had a large sign indicating its occupants, the levels on one side and who was there on the other, level 3 or maybe 5 was the Ghanaian Embassy. My memory shows the scene from Men In Black, the headquarters, a man sitting in the corridor and a large exhaust fan at the end of the hall. My memory makes me feel that sense of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, intruding on someone else’s life and happenings.

When we found ourselves in the little room on the right floor we were struck by how much it really wasn’t anything like any embassy we had ever seen before. Not that either of us had frequented many embassies, thank god, but this one seemed more like a makeshift shelter, a halfway house of sorts.

We were under the impression we would fill out a form, get a stamp in our passports, a lollipop and be on our way. How wrong we were.

From memory, as this whole story is so I will stop saying that. The form required passport photos and proof of the yellow fever vaccination. We were sent off with our tails between our legs to complete our duties and return with the required documents. We were told that once we had submitted the documents it could take 5 working days to be completed and returned to us. 5 days! We wanted to leave tomorrow, get on the road already.

Maybe it was mum, maybe it was a requirement from some other source, but for some reason we trudged ourselves over to the Australian Embassy, or was it the Commonwealth Embassy, with Australia hosted on one of the top floors? Now, that is what I call an embassy, woah, an enormous shiny high rise building, adorned with flags and car parking, even a sign out the front, not just a street number. We walked into the foyer, had our bags checked through gun airport style security and spoke to the receptionist, who directed us to a machine which printed out a number and we were escorted to the elevator by a security guard. Up, up, up to the top. We were suddenly looking out over all of Madrid, I could recommend it as a tourist destination for a great view. But it is exclusive to Commonwealth Passport holders.

We waited our turn, and asked our questions, I don’t remember what. They gave us their leaflets and we were on our way. I have a feeling we were asking about recommended doctors in Madrid who could vaccinate us against Yellow Fever. We should have been asking about travel advice.

We found the doctor surgery, spoke with the doctor and were inoculated all in one session. I think I got meningitis then too. James got a few more than me, we both got our forms confirming our vaccine. They gave us advice about malaria. Yes, you should take the tablets, how long are you going for? Yes, well one a day. She was a nice lady, with little English. The street that house the surgery reminds me so much of Acland Street, or even Sydney Road in Melbourne. The colour of the shops, it’s hard to describe but I see those streets in place of what my memory sees. She sent us to another surgery, closer to the centre of Madrid, a small alleyway, a little surgery. Apparently the only place in Madrid to sell malaria tablets. I remember trying to ask for as many as we needed, we walked away with piles, bags full of boxes of tablets. We were set right? No yellow fever, no malaria, no problem.

Now that we were a little more prepared for our travels, we headed back to the Ghanaian Embassy. Back to the unmarked building, back to insecurity. We handed in our documents and were told to return the following Monday. Monday! That’s almost a week away. Plus they had our British Passports.

James wanted to keep planning, I wanted to think about something else, but there was nothing on our minds. We continued to frequent our little café come bar in the evenings. We’d eat our plain poor man’s pasta for dinner than go for a pint. We’d take my diary and our lonely Planet Guide. We’d read stories of other travellers and dream.

James wanted to be as prepared as possible, I didn’t know what to prepare for. We went to an adventure shop and got water purifying tablets, mugs we could clip on to our packs, mosquito nets, you name it. One night, about 3 or 4 days before our departure, I straightened my hair for the last time, had a few drinks, put my hair up in a ponytail on top of my head and chopped all my hair off. Ulrike had taught me this about 2 months earlier, it works perfectly she said, perfect layers, you can’t go wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that extra beer, maybe I should have had one more. Chop, chop, chop with blunt scissors. I didn’t want to have to maintain long hair in Ghana or on the way to Ghana, so cutting it off I would have less to worry about, less to deal with. Well woops.

Above: Christmas with Mum and James 2011, in Gibraltar 

Above: Me, less than a month later with a new 'do' January 2012, Western Sahara 

Monday came around and we were back at the embassy. We were called into the room to have an interview regarding the visa. Why did we want to go to Ghana? How were we planning to get there? How long were we going to be there for? You’re not a Spanish citizen, why are you here applying for the visa and not in London or Australia? You know you can’t get a visa here. You have to go to London. Why did I think I should be volunteering there, when Ghanaian people don’t go to volunteer in Australia? What kind of volunteering will you be doing? You know they don’t speak English there right? How do you plan on communicating with them?  OMG my head exploded at this point WHAT! Yes they do, I read they speak English, that’s why I chose Ghana and not one of the French speaking countries that neighbour Ghana. I sat still, looked at James and said something about learning the language. Will you marry me, maybe just a kiss, I will give you the visa if you give me a kiss. I didn’t know it was possible for my head to explode twice everywhere all over the walls, but it did, what is this guy on? Ok maybe just a date then, will you let me take you on a date? I don’t remember what my response was, but he gave us the visa, and I didn’t have to kiss him, date him or marry him. Thankfully.

The time between the weirdest most inappropriate interview I had ever had and getting on the bus out of Madrid is a blur. The bus pulled out of the station around 10pm and we’d sat at the terminal at least 6 hours chatting, playing cards; waiting. The bus to Malaga took 8 hours. We chose that bus to replace a night’s accommodation. It would have been wiser to have a full nights rest before entering another continent, but we wanted to save a few bob.

We arrived in Malaga at 6am, just in time for a 7:30am ferry ride across to Tangiers. I should have known then, at the ferry terminal the toilets were a little different. It was just a whole in the floor with grip pads on either side for your feet. Weird. (Little did I know, the style of toilets I was in for over the next 5months, it was only going to get weirder). The ferry was an experience in itself. We sat there, out of our heads with sleep deprivation trying to take everything in. I went to the toilets on the ferry,  but there was no toilet paper, I realised before it was too late, and walked back to get a tissue from my bag, as I was leaving the cubicle, I told the lady who was on her way in, she looked at me funny, and went in anyway. Strange for me, normal for her.

At the other end of the ferry in Tangiers we jumped on the bus into town and worked out our next stop. I had written down a few hostels in Casablanca that we could stay in, but I hadn’t booked anything as we were unsure how far we would make it on the first day. We did make it from Tangiers to Casablanca that day. At the train station in Tangies we bought our tickets, a banana each and some local pastry treats, one was sort of like a samosa and the other was like a Baklava. They were both amazing. And wow the banana, talk about organic, real, fresh, amazing. None of this Woolworths, Tesco, freeze dried, nitrogen crap (or whatever they do to it).  We still talk about those bananas like they were they highlight of the trip.

Coming out of the train, into the station in Casablanca we were really aware of hagglers and ‘being taken for a ride.’ Not having a clue about Casablanca or anything beyond the fact that the main language in Morocco is Arabic or French, or scammer, we were quite at a loss. We were BOMBARDED by taxi drivers, carrying two BIG packs, very white, red hair like the evening sunset, eyes hanging out of our heads. We stood out. I remember essentially ‘picking’ a driver to take us. He asked out destination and we handed him my diary with the address scribbled in. Now the next part is our biggest mistake. He asked if we had booked and we said no. Oh, he said, oh, well then, you don’t want to go there, oh that is not a very nice part of town, oh, no, I know a much nicer area, oh you will like it so much more. Wow, we thought, this guy knows the deal, why not trust him?

This is the part where either I continue rambling on for another 2,500 words or leave it and start a new post so you can have a break from reading about our adventures. 

Yeah, you’ll need to stay tuned for the next post if you want to find out more. 

5 months and 8 days

Last December when Adam and I were in Czech visiting his family and friends, we were invited to join 2 of his high school friends in Thailand this coming October/ November. We were over at their house in Příbram for some drinks and catch up, we knew they liked to travel but we didn't know they were planning such an adventure. Adam and I looked at each other, smiled and simultaneously said yes, of course! We'd love to come.

That night we discussed plans they had in mind, places they'd like to visit, and although Adam and I hadn't really talked about it, the 4 of us were agreeing on most places to visit. By the end of the night, Cambodia was added to the list. 

That was just before Christmas. 

In early January, when Adam and I were back in England, we met up with my darling heart Erin and her bf in Manchester for a couple of days. By this time Adam and I were expecting the visa to have already come through, or to be only a few days/ weeks away. After one of our nights out on the town, Adam and I went to get breakfast just around the corner from where we were staying. We sat there, in the booth of the restaurant bleary eyed and an epiphany overcame us both. 

Why just 2 weeks? Why don't we go for longer, and explore the whole region? 

For years now, we've both been talking about getting the Trans-Siberian across Russia and down to Beijing, or the other way, through Mongolia. We've talked about going to Nepal and Tibet. And I've always wanted to see Vietnam. We sat there and discussed all our options. 

Ok, so we want to go for more than 2 weeks, how long do we go for? 

How much money can we save in the next 10 months?

Do we head to Australia as soon as we get the visa and work for a few months, quit, then go?

Do we stay in the UK despite the visa, and enter Australia after our Asia trip?

We had a lot to sort out, at the time, thinking the visa was less than a month away, we decided to stay in the UK, that way we could spend a bit more time saving, and a bit more time with Adam's family before immigrating to Aus, or heading home in my case. 

We decided to make the commitment and stay in the UK, do our best with saving and head to Australia in a year or so. It's a long way away, and part of me wishes we would be back in Melbourne tomorrow, but we have so many more adventures planned for this year, before Asia, and we're both very excited. Besides - when we settle in Australia it will be for a while, so this is sort of our last horrah to traveling for a while. 

The visa is still undecided, and in the far off distance.

We have completely transformed the walls in our bedroom, we live in staff accomodation in a tiny town in the Yorkshire Dales, our walls are host to beautifully hand drawn map of the world, courtesy of the talented Mr Adam Holy, and we have A4 pieces of white paper with lists of what to do in each country when we get there. We have cut photos and inspiration out of various travel magazines and stuck them all over the walls. 

Adam had a teacher in high school who told him if you want something or have a dream stick it on your walls so you see it every morning when you open your eyes. It helps you to work towards your dreams. 

We haven't managed to save as much as we would like to, 4 months in, but we're getting there. 

At the moment, as well as saving, we're slowly building up on the different bits and pieces that we need. We've agreed we don't want to carry a bag more than 30 liters. My rucksack that I have been carrying with me for 4 years is 65 liters. There is no way I am carrying that much through Asia. So, now that we have agreed on the limit, we have to agree on what to take, what is necessary, what we really don't need and what we should post to Australia for our life there.

30 liters is restricting, no hair dryer or straightener (dah), eyeliner and mascara are a definite yes- but I still have convince Adam on this one. Other than that it'll be a few pairs of pants/ tops and toiletries. And our pack of UNO of course! It'll be a very different experience for both of us. I think he will be fine with such limited belongings, he's a boy. But me, I like to wear something different, I like the variety. When I was a kid, and I guess I still do sometimes, get changed 5 times in one day. So 30 liters will be a test. Not the biggest test though, still deciding what the biggest test will be. 

At the moment we are looking at where we would like to go, what we'd like to see. We have 3-4 weeks planned for China from the beginning of October. Adam's mum is joining us for the first 3 weeks, and hopefully so will my mum, come on mum, book your ticket already :). Then we're heading to Vietnam by train, across to Cambodia, meeting up with Jana and Peter, shimmying over to Thailand, then down to Singapore. And if we have any money left we'll make it over to the islands. We can't apply for our visa to China until 3 months before we leave, but we can organise insurance now. 

 I hope we'll be back in Melbourne before Christmas 2015. 

Paleo Orange, Ginger and Chia Seed Cake.

This cake is amazing, easy and Paleo. Watch out, it won't last long.

I have finally reached a level of skill with Paleo baking where I throw a few things in a bowl, get it to the right texture/ consistency, pop it in the oven and wolah! And that's how easy this cake is. 

Ingredients:

• 200g Ground Almonds
• 1 Tbs Coconut Flour
• 1 Tsp Baking powder
• 1/4 Cup Coconut Oil, melted (add more if the mix is a little thick)
• 2 Oranges (grate the rind off both, and juice both)
• 1 inch Ginger - freshly grated
• 3 eggs
• half a cup of Honey (add more if the mix seems a little thick) 
• 2 Tsp ground ginger
• Himalayan Rock Salt (can be any salt, but aparently Himalayan is Paleo)
• 1 Tbs Chia seeds 
• Omega seed mix (optional) for sprinkling over the top

Method

Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius 

Combine all dry ingredients in a blender. 

(I use a very basic smoothie blender which does the trick, however it is quite small, so I usually have to make it in 2 batches then combine it in a bowl- so depending on the size of your blender, you can do this too- it still works). 

Add eggs and melted coconut oil and blend. 

In a separate bowl, combine grated ginger, orange juice and grated orange rind. 

Add orange mix to blender.

The mix should be thicker than a regular cake mix, but not too thick, and not too runny, I don't like adding extra eggs to make it more moist, I prefer to add extra honey or coconut oil. Alternatively if the mix is a little wet, add a little extra ground almonds, coconut flour is so dense it could turn your mix into concrete. 

For this recipe I used a loaf tin, and I used butter to make sure the mix wouldn't stick to the bottom, some people say organic, grass-fed butter is ok for Paleo, some people say not, so it's up to you. 

Poor mix into prepared tin, sprinkle Omega mix over, and bake for 20 minutes or until golden and knife inserted into the center comes out clean. 

I am sad (but actually truely glad) to say that I got about a slice and a half of this cake, silly me for leaving it out for Adam to munch on. (Maybe I should start putting sugar in the cakes, so I get some :) ) - No way, never again, no more sugar. 

...........

Note: If you add a little more ground almond, and a little more coconut flour, and mix the omega mix into the batch, you can make delicious cookies, spoon the batter on to a tray and bake for about 15 minutes or until golden. They were so good, we ate them before I could take a photo.  

Paleo Baking and Desserts - Poached Pears with Dark Chocolate Sauce

Recently I confessed my love of food, and my obsession with cooking.  I've always loved baking too, but I have a problem with baking, it's yummy, so yummy that Adam and I would eat an entire cake in 2 days, which being full of chocolate and sugar didn't help my thighs much. 

A moment on your lips a lifetime on your hips.

Paleo Poached Pears with Dark Chocolate Sauce

It was ok for Adam, he runs about 50kms a week, and when he's training he cycles twice that. However, even though he was burning it off, he would still refuse it. It makes me feel sick. He'd say, fair enough, it makes me feel sick too, but god does it taste good! So I got out of the habit of baking, I couldn't work out a way to bake, and eat and not feel sick, or gain weight. When I put on weight I am a pear shape, so that phrase up there sang true to me every time I indulged in cake, it stuck to my hips. 

It wasn't until we found Paleo that I can finally bake and eat and still lose weight. In the past few weeks I have been experimenting with coconut flour, ground almonds, coconut oil and stewed fruit to make the most amazing cakes and cookies that don't have any gluten, sugar or dairy in them. 

"Wins" for me are few and far between. I am proud of the life Adam and I have made for ourselves, proud of our achievements and proud of our experiences but in my day to day life, I don't have much to shout out about. Until recently, I can't believe how easy Paleo baking really is. If you have a blender, you're set. Not even a Thermomix, I use a very simple smoothie blender, the one that you screw the lid on, flip it over and push down. Granted sometimes I dream about a Kitchen Aid but who has £700? I spent £30, and I use it every day.

The first thing to learn in Paleo baking, is what foods go well together, what flavours and what textures.  Below are a list of delicious flavour combinations that might seem like common sense, but when you're not adding any sugar, the sweetness needs to be well matched. 

FLAVOURS I LOVE

• Chocolate and Banana
• Orange and Ginger 
• Apple, Raspberry and Coconut
• Coconut and Chocolate
• Almond and Apple
• Pear and Almond
• Orange/ Lemon and Almond
• Apple, Ginger and Cinnamon
• Sweet Potato and Chocolate
• Pear and Chocolate
• Peach and Coconut

To get the most flavour out of the fruits, I stew apples with cinnamon and lemon and a splash of water. NO SUGAR. I grate the orange rind, then juice the oranges and blend it with freshly grated ginger, before adding to the mix. 

There are little tricks like this that make the flavours so much stronger, and make it so much easier to enjoy sugar free baking. 

We've been Paleo for more than a month know, and we don't miss anything. Sometimes we talk about the good old days - what we used to enjoy, but couldn't imagine eating now. I have lost more that 10 pounds in the past month, with not really any exercise. I started running earlier this year, and I walk at least half an hour most days. Plus I work in hospitality, so I am constantly moving. 

Poached Pears with Dark Chocolate Sauce

Serves 2 

This was so good, Adam licked his plate clean. 

Ingredients:

• 2 Conference Pears - (not sure what we call them in Australia, the browner ones, not the soft yellow ones)  
• A Cinnamon Stick
• 100 g of super dooper dark chocolate - I like the 90% (when I eat it with something sweet, like pears). 
• A Heaped Teaspoon of Solid Coconut Oil 

Method: 

Boil about 3-4 inches of water in a medium saucepan, when boiling, turn to simmer and add the 2 pealed pears, leave whole with the stalk in. Add the cinnamon stick. It will take about 10 minutes for them to cook through, use a sharp knife to test, they should be soft all the way through when ready. 

Remove from pan and place in separate bowls. 

In a clean saucepan, add chocolate and oil, melt over low heat until almost melted. Remove from heat, stirring consistently. 

Pour over prepared pears and enjoy.  

The day we climbed Ingleborough. and Paleo Niçoise Salad Recipe

Two and a half years ago Adam and I were in the Grampians National Park in north western Victoria. We'd gone for a weekend of sightseeing and exploring, and so Adam could experience more of Australia. We stayed in a lovely little log cabin, and right outside our back door there were hundreds (it seemed) of kangaroos, emu's and deer. Adam spent hours outside on our first night in amazement at the beautiful animals. The second day we went to MacKenzie Falls and couldn't even make the whole walk, we walked some of the way and decided that we could hear it and that was enough. I think it was a combination of laziness and lack of energy. I wouldn't say we were unhealthy, but we were far from healthy back then. Later that day as we drove through the Grampians we came upon a short 45 minute walk, we even drove up to the second car park to make the walk shorter, it was just to the top of the hill, not far at all. But for us, it was too far and we didn't make it half way. 

This is the memory we use to base our fitness and energy levels against, remember the Grampians? no way could we have done this back then. 

About a week ago Adam said to me, next weekend, lets climb Whernside. 

Two days ago we climbed Ingleborough. 

We spent an hour or so working out what food we would take with us, naturally that is my first thought. We decided on fruit (of course) a Paleo Niçoise Salad - see recipe below. And water. A day before we were due to set off I had a look on google maps, it said the walk would take four and a half hours, NO! For a second there I though Adam was having me on, oh yeah yeah it's about 5 hours return, including a break for lunch is what he said! He was fast asleep next to me when I was doing my research, the plan to begin with was to walk from Austwick, where we live - but there was no way I was going to walk 10 hours return. 

I had a think about it, and decided to see how far Pen-y-ghent was, and Ingleborough. We live in the Yorkshire Dales National Park and one of the great attractions of this area is the 3 peak walk its about a 10 hour walk and covers the 3 peaks, Ingleborough, Whenside and Pen-y-ghent. Pen-y-ghent suggested about 2 and a half hours one way from Austwick, as did Ingleborough. We decided on Ingleborough, because we could get their easily from Clapham, and it was the one Adam had meant originally when he called it Whernside. 

We packed our lunch, drove over to Clapham, which is about 5 minutes by car or an hour walk. We decided to drive this little bit, because we knew the last little bit would kill us on the way home. That morning Adam had found a pretty basic map online and printed if off, just in case. The map was basically a circle drawing with a few landmarks Clapham, Gaping Gill, Ingleborough summit. There were no contour lines signifying the gradient in the landscape or which fences to climb, or which paths to follow. 

The weather was fabulous, after 6 months of absolute darkness, freezing cold winter, the sun shone down on our walk. It took just over 2 hours to reach the summit, from the top we could see both Pen-y-ghent and Wernside in either direction. The sky was so clear we could see all the way over to Morecombe by the coast and over to the Lake District in the north. We were blessed with beautiful views and rewarded with a delicious lunch. 

The way down is always quicker, but by this stage we both had jelly legs. At the bottom of the hill, just by the entrance to the Ingleborogh Caves, there is a little information centre who sell Ice Creams. usually nothing would have stopped us from buying a yummy Cornetto, but we just don't feel like ice creams anymore. 

We made it back to the car within 4 hours of setting off, ready for a big glass of wine sitting outside in the sunshine. Something we hadn't been able to do since arriving in our little town in the Yorkshire Dales 8 months ago. The perfect end to a very satisfying day. 

Paleo Niçoise Salad 

SERVES 2 

2 Sweet potatoes cut into cubes, steamed and left to cool

2 Boiled eggs (approx 8 minutes)

1/2 cup green olives, pitted (we like the ones that are stuffed and marinated)

Mixed lettuce with baby spinach

3 stalks steamed asparagus left to cool

1/2 avocado chopped

1 vine ripe tomato quartered

100g smoked salmon

Combine all ingredients in a bowl, toss, I like to use a bit of the juice from the marinated olives as a dressing, it doesn't need much. And enjoy. 

**I'm not sure if I've mentioned this already, but Adam and use the term Paleo as it is so much easier than saying - gluten free, dairy free, sugar free, no legumes and processed food free. Maybe there are some areas in our diets or lifestyles that don't completely comply with the Paleo ethos, but for us it's used as an umbrella term, if you will. We are also 80/20 - so we drink coffee and maybe a little too much wine or gin. But we stay away from the gluten, the dairy and the processed foods at all costs. And it is working wonders for us. 

a little bit about Paleo and BLT Salad Recipe

When Adam and I first heard about the paleo lifestyle, we read a few articles saying how hard it was to find recipes - or come up with inspiration for meals. Yes, sometimes thinking of what to make for dinner is hard, especially when we do the shopping once a week in a town 45 minute drive away, but that has nothing to do with being paleo. In fact, we always used try to eat healthy, with the occasional pizza or scone with jam and cream, now is the same just minus the pizza and scone or cake. 

We haven't found the transition too difficult, well it wasn't even a transition. We had a week 'trial' to see how we felt. In that week we both lost about 2-3 kilos, just like that. Then we went away for about 10 days, to Wales, Rome and Barcelona. We decided there was no point even trying to eat paleo while we were on holidays, as we were still newbies to the lifestyle and one of the reasons we decided to go to to Italy and Spain was for the pizza, peroni, pasta, tapas, sangria - I wasn't kidding in an earlier post when I said that I love food, and food dictates my travel plans and makes my experiences. There was no way we would walk into a pizza joint in Rome and ask for a gluten free crust, or if the bakery had any sugar free cakes- we're not mad. It was actually quite amazing, being away and looking forward to coming home to restart the paleo lifestyle.

So after our week trial, then our 10 day binge, we woke up on March the 12th and got straight back into it. Now, I think I should mention how we interpret paleo, because there seems to be quite a few ideas, theories and so many rules that we just find confusing. 

We are simply no gluten, no dairy, no sugar, no processed foods and no legumes. This is our mantra. Some add no caffine and no soy to their paleo list, we barely drink coffee, if we do its made on the stove with ground coffee beans, and its about once a week. If we were to have a coffee in a cafe, we would have it with soy, because hey, where else in Yorkshire will we find a cafe that has anything we can eat, and we still like the atmosphere, maybe in future we will just have a herbal tea. The more research we do, the more apparent it is the paleo is a bit of the word of the month, a bit of a fad. For me, it is just easier to say paleo than the list at the beginning of the paragraph. We don't like to refer to it as a diet either, for us the word diet denotes a short term fix, lose the weight then go back to the old way, it's only been 3 weeks and I don't think I will ever go back.  

It's been 3 weeks, and my body has changed shape, I never really had much of a belly, but that is flat now, and my bum is shrinking, I was referred to as having a 'J LO' bum by a relief chef about 3 months ago, well at this rate, never again. I'll always we curvy, that's what the hourglass figure is, but at least I will be more in proportion. 

The point is, for us, paleo is worth it, it works, we feel great, the energy we feel now is indescribable. I went for a 10km bike ride this afternoon with Adam, because hey, why not? I never would have done that before. 

Now, onto the ease and speed of paleo cooking. I don't like long winded complicated recipes, I tried melting chocolate and butter in a glass bowl over a saucepan about 2 years ago, for a (non paleo) brownie recipe and the bowl cracked in half and all the chocolate melted into the water. FAIL. So all my recipes are easy, generally pretty quick, healthy with no faffing about. 

BLT SALAD

Ingredients

2 rashes of bacon - we are lucky enough here to get local bacon which is just incredible, you can totally taste the difference between it and ASDA bacon which just ooozes water when we try to cook it. 

2 ripe tomatoes 

1/2 head of iceberg lettuce chopped

5 basil leaves chopped - I put the basil leaves on top of each other on the chopping board and fold the stack in half and chop it really finely with a sharp knife

1/2 an avocado chopped

1/2 a carrot grated

1/4 head of red cabbage finely shredded

1/4 head of fennel finely sliced

add cold roast chicken shredded for an extra boost

Method

Cook bacon in a non stick pan, I don't use any oil as the fat from the bacon should create enough to prevent the bacon from sticking. Stand aside to cool - and chop into strips.

Place all other ingredients into a bowl and toss, then and the bacon strips and WOLLAH! All done. Enjoy.