THE GREAT XMAS REUNION

I AM HOME.

It's been just under two years since I was that terrified 22 year old girl boarding a plane to Asia to start what I thought was going to be a very planned adventure. Although with the full intention on completing a 10 month teaching job in HCMC, Vietnam and then a quick UK return, my life slightly escalated into:  

23 months 

29 flights

8 countries

5 jobs

6 homes 

1 motorbike

63 blog posts

7 phones

1 tattoo

4 hair braids

164 bowls of pho

I'm now 24, with a ton of great memories, even greater friends and a much better outlook on life.

I can't thank these friends enough for being my home away from home for all this time. I am just so grateful to the ones who have shown me love over the past two years. 

Arriving back in Heathrow, where I left all those months ago, was bloody emotional. The arrivals lounge saw us accidentally remake the Love Actually introduction, as I reunited with my mum and dad. 

It was beautiful to see them after so long, and it came with a massive mix of emotions. After landing 2 weeks ago now, I've felt this overwhelming guilty feeling of being away for so long, which I can't help but take into consideration when deciding what to do in 2016. I've been living so far away for all this time and although Tony and Lou support me through whatever I decide, I can't help but feel bad about the amount of miles between them and I, and the career ladder that I've yet climbed on to. 

After visiting some friends in London this weekend, living there doesn't seem as grim as how I've been picturing it for the past few years. 

I had done a few magazine internships whilst at uni in London and hated the daily commute and general life in those few months. But on reflection this was probably because I wasn't getting paid. If I am wanting to get my career on track anytime soon, it's inevitable I will have to move to where the jobs are. And although I'm more of a country Norwich girl at heart, there are clearly considerably more opportunities in London Town.

My brother and 80% of my friends are either in London or moving there in the next few months, and being able to see them more than just once every year would be such a delight! This is something that would really sway my deciding what the shit I should do with my life.

I'm flying back to Australia in January, but am very undecided as to how long it will be before I come back to the UK. With the main 'what the fuck am I doing?' theme featured in 2014 and 2015, 2016 is probably going to be no different. However at the moment, I maybe sensing a summer return. 

I'm trying not to think about it too much at the moment - all I want to do is embrace my limited time at home!

Right now, I'm just excited about chilling with my cat, eating my body weight in quality street and catching up on 23 months worth of Coronation Street. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS x

72 hour holiday in Tassie

Being on a working holiday visa, I've sometimes found it a little hard to get the work/hol balance just right. The guilts of not working enough are constantly battling with the guilts of only having two years to explore every bit of Australia, and I'm always trying to find the middle man!

With that in mind, I had three days off from serving yoghurt last week, and decided to take a little holiday to Tasmania with my housemates.

We took a flight into Hobart, hired a car and tried to cram in as much as we could in just 72 hours! Despite the weather not being on our side, Tasmania's scenery was bloody beautiful. You could drive for hours, to only be met with miles of rolling hills and just a handful of other cars on the road. 

We drove up to Mount Wellington before heading north to see the Bay of Fires. Having seen so many unreal views over the past couple of years, seeing new scenery still makes me feel pretty lucky and something I try not to take for granted. 

Making new pals and seeing my first Tasmanian devil in Bicheno on day two was definitely the holiday highlight for me:

On the third and final day of our trip, we stayed in Hobart. We visited the MONA Gallery and chilled out in the Botanical gardens. 

After cramming so many activities in, we all felt pretty sleepy before setting off for our flight back - especially Billy, whose public napping had these Chinese tourists a wee bit confused: 

Living on a landing: Liz at 24

If I'd been asked when I was 14 what life would be like in ten years time, I'd have maybe said 'secure job, own flat, steady relationship' etc etc etc. Basically a life that a lot of my friends at home have at the moment.

Well, with one month until my 24th birthday, I'm lying here in my One Direction bed sheets, eating a dominos for one and desperately googling how to get rid of a mouse who has wrongly assumed 'mi casa es su casa'.

The only emails I get these days are either from said fast food outlet, or from LinkedIn asking if i'd like to 'endorse' uni acquaintances I can barely remember on their job skills. Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass. 

I'm neither in steady employment, or a steady relationship and I currently live on a landing. As in a hallway. Yes my bedroom does not have a door or a wall (see below). Day 1 and my housemates had already seen everything. The bathroom door broke on day 2, and this meant my morning wake up calls by day 3 onwards would now be pretty grim.

Even if I wanted friends or family to stay, this is all I could offer them:

Moaning aside, I love being back in Melbourne and really embracing city living this time. I've been going out for great food, to amazing bars and trying to tick off everything on my Melbourne bucket list. With city life before, i was constantly worried about saving money for future travels and limiting my spending. This time, I'm spending much of what I earn on finding the best poached eggs, the best coffee and the best gin and tonic.

Luckily I landed a great paid job in a frozen yoghurt shop in the first few days of arriving back, which has kindly funded my Melbourne fun but been catastrophic on my waist line.

Having such a delightful time back in Melbourne has given me the time to reflect on what Liz at 14 thought Liz at 24 was going to be.  Although I don't have what a typical mid-20 year old has, nor an idea of when I'll get it, I'm feeling less worried about it all. I'm now finding myself accepting that this is all OK.

Although my parents are great and not in the least bit pressurising, those lingering questions always float about: 'When are you going to come home and find a proper job?', 'What are you going to do next year?' I've already been away for almost two years, surely that's enough of this whole 'seeing the world' thing?

I can honestly say I have no clue about any time frames, and with my impending 4 week trip back to the UK, I'm prepping for the inevitable life questions from both my friends and my parents friends. I know they're not being rude, they are just natural questions. But pleeeease, I just really don't know.

I may not have much of life plan or following the acceptable transition from teen to adult, but I'm also not sponging off anyone, nor am I struggling for money. I'm just happy as I am continuing on with my work/travel/work/travel pattern. 

Making ten year predictions is a little silly I feel, but as cringey as it sounds, I'm honestly hoping that I'll just be still be happy and content with whatever I'm doing. I hope I'm surrounded by people that I love and still have the desperate desire to visit different places and meet new people. 

Although, not to be overly optimistic, I'm kinda hoping at the age of 34 I'll have my own room. Fingers crossed eh. 

Nippy's Indonesian Tour

"You're not a proper Australian unless you've been to Bali"

My mate Heather once told me this and she was probably right. The Aussies love Bali, and so did i. 

This holiday back to Asia came a little unexpectedly at the end of my orange packing days. Things happened, my life plan changed for the 2,452nd time, and I decided to sack off my $90 flight to the Philippines and head to the island of Bali with my 7 orange packing girls instead. On reflection, the Filipino typhoon season at that time also made it a wiser choice! 

It's fair to say I was a little sceptical. For one, I'd heard Bali was a little like Ayia Napa. And although I had a great time there back in 2010 when I was 18, I didn't want a repeat of those teenage years. Travelling with 7 other girls (especially with such a mixed bag of personalities) when I'm used to travelling solo made me think it could be a little difficult too.

But over those 17 days, I was proved so so wrong because I had a bloody great time!

Our first stop was Sanur, Bali and to be fair our night out there was exactly like Ayia Napa. However, after 3 and a half months of the Waikerie social club juke box this was exactly what we needed.

The place we stayed was so glam, and this soon became a pro to travelling as a group. Splitting the costs and living like queens was something I could definitely get used to. We all had these first couple of days to chill out after our 13 hour factory shifts, which was so needed.

All my money was spent on massages and cocktails. This woman was well worth the money! Thanks hun.

Ubud was our next stop, and was probably my favourite place out of everywhere. The whole place was so vibrant! The rice terraces were beautiful, the markets were packed and the town had so much character.

It was full of "yogis" on retreats and full of vegan cafes, which served clean food and no booze.

We soon sorted that issue out:

Just doing our thing in Ubud looking like crystal meth addicts.

I also fell in love in Ubud. I don't want to jump to anything too soon, but I think he could be the one. Meet Jonny the orangutan:

I'm going to be honest, before I arrived in Bali I really just didn't know what it was. Was it a city? Nope. A state? Nah. Was it a country? I finally discovered Bali was actually an island, and it was time to leave this island and head to the next. 

It was a traumatic boat ride, after still feeling the effects of the home-brewed shots two days before. But it's safe to say we had arrived in Paradise! Gili Air was a very quiet island, mainly filled with people doing their dive courses. 

Some of us spent a lot of time at the H2O Yoga and Meditation Centre. I hadn't really done much yoga since Vietnam, so it was a delight to find somewhere so cheap and great to do it for the week.

Nicole, Sam and I also decided to stay on Gili Air whilst the rest of the girls climbed Mount Rinjani in Lombok. The plan was to spend these three days detoxing and doing yoga. Nicole, who shares my passion for shots made it evident this was not going to happen. Which it didn't. 

Anywayyyy we then met the rest of our pack on the next island, Gili Trawangan, where we found them absolutely broken. We were so proud of them for completing it, but by looking at Jess' post-Rinjani cripple/jesus look going on, I'm kinda glad I didn't. Love ya Jess!

This was our final Indonesian stop, and it's fair to say we were all fucked. If one of the group wasn't crippled from the volcano trek, then they'd been caught out by the Bali Belly. No guesses to what this coeliac gal had. 

We were determined to have a nice few days as it was quickly coming to an end. The days were spent by the pool and having delicious dinners in the evening.

However, the final night Kristina and I were the only ones that could power through for one last Asian night out.

Although we actually lost each other within the first 10 minutes of the night, we then reunited back at the house at 5am when I found Kristina making some kind of dying cat sounds downstairs in the reception. I asked her where she had been, to which she didn't really know. 

A couple of weeks later, a friend I had made in the Gilis told me that he'd actually bumped into her that night. He was able to fill in a few blanks:

(I think he meant massaging, but who knows)

The final night came around way too quick! With 4 English, 1 Aussie, 1 Welsh, 1 Irish and a Norwegian it was inevitable that we'd have to go our separate ways.

I think I can say this on behalf of all of us, we were a complete mixed bag of girls. But I wouldn't have wanted to spend those 17 days with anyone else! I miss you all so much but am happy in knowing that we will all reunite one day.

Class of 2015 - WE MADE IT

For the past few months I thought this day would never come,

But now it has arrived I'm feeling a tiny bit glum.

This weird little town has become a home to me,

But it's now time to leave for da big city.

The friends here I've made I will miss you a lot, 

But to pack one more orange I could lose the plot.

We've done it, we've made it and we're all so happy!

Class of 2015 at Nippys factory.

A special thank you goes to these delightful BWS employees. Your services gave us the strength to make the 88th day, and although we became borderline alcoholics, we are forever grateful.

Current Occupation: Orange Packer

Apologies in advance for probably the most depressing blog post to date.

I'm now working in a factory. And living here too. In the arse end of nowhere. With absolutely nothing to do.

My brain has been temporarily out of order since I arrived in Waikerie, South Australia in mid May - hence the lack of blog posts, and the increase in Facebook updates about how shite life is.

My current occupation: Orange packer. Well sometimes lemons, and occasionally 'mandys' (questionable nickname for a mandarin). But basically I'm packing fruit Monday to Friday for sometimes thirteen hours a day. Life.

And why am I here? I keep questioning that on a minute by minute basis. Packing excessive amounts of oranges in the outback of Australia was something I'd never pictured myself doing two years ago when I graduated, or even one year ago when i was teaching those delightful Vietnamese six year olds. Life plans change, and I am the prime example of that. 

Typical daily jobs at the factory include:

- Sorting shit fruit from good fruit

- Stabbing mouldy fruit with a nail attached to the end of a stick (actually quite satisfying)

- Pushing down box lids, as the machine that does this is broken. Sometimes these lids are down already, so you just have to give it a 'confirmation stroke'. Jesus.

- Sticking stickers on boxes.

- Packing oranges in boxes. Although on Friday I got threatened that there was no job for me if I didn't pack quicker, so we'll see how that goes. 

- Finding really weird shaped fruit 

I need to keep remembering that there is a point to this prison sentence. In order to get a second year visa in Australia, I have to complete 88 days regional work -  basically anything that contributes to the country's agriculture. Definitely embracing those Norfolk roots. 

This work has obviously been made better by the fact that they're soon scrapping this evil necessity, and those applying for a working visa in the near future can enjoy two years straight up. Fucking fantastic.

I am moaning a lot. I moan even though I should consider myself pretty lucky. I'm earning a shit ton of money, and after arriving only 7 weeks ago, my bank balance is the healthiest it's ever looked. What I got working as an ESL teacher for a month, I could earn in just a few days as an orange packer.

You also hear some pretty horrific stories where plenty of backpackers are taken advantage of just get those 88 days out of the way. People are falsely promised work, and told they can get signed off as long as they pay their rent. So I probably do need to be a little more grateful.

It was a spur of the moment decision to do my farmwork. Originally Australia was only meant to be for a year (actually it wasn't ever reeeeally suppose to happen at all) but a friend of mine who was already here said there was a spare space and asked if I fancied it. I said I'd give it a few weeks to see how it was. It is pretty bad, but I'm doing it and I'm persevering.

Waikerie itself reminds me of a really rubbish version of Swaffham. There's a Woolworths, a chemist and a library and that's about it. Going on a run here sometimes feels like being back in Go Vap, Vietnam. Getting stared at because you aren't local happens regularly. But whereas in Saigon it was a friendly curiosity on who I was and why I seemed to be the only white girl in the district, here it's probably because they're in a crystal meth coma.

I'm just over half way and that feels bloody great. My savings are looking good and I've got plenty planned to spend it on! I'm off to Sydney for a long weekend in a few weeks, and I'm also going back to The Philippines for a month in September. There is a light at the end of this very tragic, orange tunnel and I need to keep remembering that this isn't forever.

More importantly, my flight back to the UK has been booked after postponing my visit home for over a year. I keep picturing the emotional reunion at Heathrow arrivals and how Tony and Lou are going to think that I'm some sort of weird mirage. I'll be back for two months and after that I haven't quite yet decided.

No word of a lie, when that bell rings on the 88th day, it will be the happiest day of my life. Better than graduation, better than passing my driving test and better than the day Dominos started doing gluten free pizzas.

So this is me. Day 45/88, officially half way through and officially now dressing like a teenage boy. 

I'll see you on the other side.

East Coast Road-tripping

Soooooo, at the end of March I sold my car, said goodbye to Melbourne for a second time and set off on my travels. Again. 

I met Billy, Conor and six other friends in Byron Bay. I flew up there to join them in their van which they had been travelling down in from Cairns. It was so great to see everyone, as the previous month of working full time on top of being semi homeless wasn't the most ideal of months.

Ready and prepped for a few days of tanning in Byron Bay, it seemed I had actually arrived in a climate similar to that of Swaffham, though with a few more bare footed hippies wondering around.

Luckily the weather picked up and I was able to get the tan back and embrace what I had always pictured Australia to be. It was quick to see how much more breathtaking the beaches up the coast were compared to the crystal meth-esque sands of St Kilda.

We spent our time in Byron on the beaches, heading up to the lighthouse and passing the most eastern part of Australia! We stayed in the arts factory in our tents, and soon learnt how one dreadlocked guy had been living in his tent there for the last seven years. Fair. 

Whilst in Byron, we drove over to Nimbin, a little hippy town which hosts those that didn't want to leave the Aquarius festival back in the 1970s. A few characters were definitely stuck in some weird time warp, but it was a funny day out.

After leaving Byron after four days, we headed south to Coffs Harbour to set up camp. Travelling with seven other people is something I'm definitely not used to after travelling mostly on my own. It was a good experience, however when it came down to decision making was a bit of a nightmare. Though, everything did work out in the end.

It was good to stop in this little town as there is a big chance I'll be cucumber picking here for three months! Bit of a curveball life change, however Sophie did hers here and she's coming back out in May for her second year visa. If I didn't do my farm-work, I wouldn't be able to travel Australia with her after September. And plus, in one year I haven't seen half as much as I wanted to. I don't think I realised how big Australia was. 

Travelling in a van down the coast rather than on a greyhound bus, meant we stumbled across a lot of little beaches which were absolutely stunning! The photos really can't do these views justice.

After Coffs Harbour, we then set off to Seals Rock where we nearly all died of hypothermia. Not even an exaggeration. Our camping equipment between 8 of us consisted of 3 x $5 tents, a tie dye scarf and a Brazilian flag. Conor and I slept in the van this night and it wasn't much better. Well... until we turned the engine on for some heating (we weren't too popular the following morning. Whatever)

This quickly confirmed we weren't going to be camping at our next destination, the Blue Mountains. We would have genuinely died. We checked into a cute little hostel which seemed to transport us to some south of France ski chalet. It was delightful. The Blue Mountains were stunning.

Our next and final stop was Sydney. We spent a week there in a wonderful little house thanks to an Air B and B find. We stayed in some professional skateboarders house, who was friends with snoop dog apparently? This didn't come without drama though, when we locked ourselves out of the house and had to break in. Oh also I fell asleep in an uber and got charged $120, but that's another story. It was such a treat to unpack and stay in a room where you weren't woken up by the guy on the bunk above you making weird noises.

My time in Sydney before was pretty short, so it was good to spend longer than 24 hours wondering around the city. We did all the typical tourist things, Manley, Bondi and Coogee beaches and also the walks around Circular Quay. Oh, and a drag queen night too. We did all consider maybe living in Sydney wouldn't be so out of the question, but then realised how much we bloody love Melbourne.

Now we're back, living in a hostel and realising how much we miss that Air B and B. Luckily we quickly found a beautiful house in South Yarra, a great area which I'd never even considered living in before. The move in day on Wednesday cannot come quick enough! 

I know I'll be back in Melbourne for a month at least, but I'm having serious farm work dilemmas. Do I do it or not?  Doing it would mean I could stay in Australia past September, so I could travel with Sophie. Going home to start real life again doesn't fill me with happiness either. But 3 months. 88 DAYS OF PICKING CUCUMBERS. Really? I have no idea. Fingers crossed the next blog post I write, I'll have made my mind up.