Getting up at 5.30am gave us time to get dressed, packed and have a quick cup of tea with my Mum before we had to say goodbye. No need for tears, Mum said, she was happy to be seeing us off on the last leg of our year long adventure.

We'd asked my brother, Ray, to drop us off at Heathrow 3 hours before departure which meant we had to leave the house by quarter past six. Ray had reluctantly agreed to go so early and it turned out to be just as well, we needed almost every minute of those three hours to get on our flight.

When we found the Delta check in desk there wasn't much of a queue so we only had to wait about half an hour to get to the desk. By then, the queue behind us was about four times as long so we were feeling pretty smug. We had changed our flights a couple of weeks earlier and it had not been an easy process, so we were relieved to see that the checking in process was going smoothly. Our boarding passes had been printed and our bags had been weighed when a look of confusion came on the face of the woman attending to us. Oh, oh! Here we go, I thought. Sure enough, after looking at her computer screen a bit longer and making a quick phone call she handed us back our passports, itinerary and bags and asked us to please go talk with someone at the Delta help-desk. This wasn't looking good.

At the help-desk a very helpful young woman tapped away at her computer and was then able to tell us that, while my itinerary had been updated and a seat allocated on the flight for me, a new ticket hadn't been issued and I would have to pay for a new one. (Conal's details were all correct.) I explained that we had changed the flight with E-bookers and they had already charged us for the new ticket. So she gave them a ring (at their call centre in India) to try and sort it out. She told them we needed to board soon and they promised to ring back in twenty minutes.

Conal and I took the chance to go and find some breakfast which turned out to be disappointing and expensive, but that's Heathrow airport for you, and when we got back to the help desk there had still been no call from India. Our Delta lady rang again and this time was given the assurance that a new ticket had been issued for me. By this time it was 8.30 and we still had to check in. Thankfully we were told we didn't have to get back into the long queue and were directed straight to the front of the counter.

We were quickly and smoothly checked in and told to hightail it to the boarding gate, and told it was quite a distance. So off we raced, through security, along the moving walkways and arrived at the gate a bit puffed out but with 10 minutes to spare.

(Incidentally, we were told that our luggage could only be checked in as far as Miami and we would have to claim it there and check it in again for the Aero Mexico flight to Mexico. This would explain why our luggage was left behind in Miami on our outward journey. We had been assured in Mexico City that it was booked all the way to heathrow,(but I guess it wasn't.)

So I guess this story illustrates why it is recommended to turn up at the airport 3 hours before boarding. If things don't go smoothly you've got more time to sort it out and if everything does go smoothly, you've plenty time to enjoy sitting and watching the poor folk who have problems with their tickets as they race around from one place to another.

The good news is that our flight to Miami was great. We had comfortable seats, a good selection of inflight entertainment and were served a fantastic lunch. We arrived in Miami an hour ahead of schedule which have us plenty time to grab our bags and check them in again.

It was only a three hour flight from Miami to Mexico and we arrived on schedule at 8.30pm local time. From there we caught a taxi to our hostel and collapsed into bed at 10pm after 22 hours of travelling.

After a good nights sleep we spent the next morning buying bus tickets to Puerto Escondido and at 6pm that evening we took a deep breath and headed down the stairs (with packs and surfboard) to catch a tube to the bus station. We could hardly believe it when our tickets for a half hour ride on the tube cost only three pesos each - that's 30 cents.

We were pretty tired by the time we boarded our bus at 8pm but the seats were really comfy and we managed to get a good sleep during the twelve hour bus ride. We woke at dawn and enjoyed a packed breakfast of chocolate bread, bananas and water as we watched the sun rise. I enjoyed gazing out the window as we raced by, countryfolk beginning their day, lighting their cooking fires in front of their homes and making their breakfasts. Some men were already out in the fields as the sky got lighter.

It was good to get back to Puerto Escondido and we turned up at Carlos's place in the hope there'd be a room for us. And there was and now we are cruising at the beach. It's warm, the surfs good and we are just fine.

I was born and raised in Derry/Londonderry and always resented the fact that when I told people where I was from it inferred my religious or political stance. To cut a very long story short, Catholics and republicans (those who want a united Ireland without British rule) call the city by it's original name: Derry. Protestants and loyalists (those who want Northern Ireland to remain under British rule) call the place Londonderry. So if I tell someone I'm from Derry I'm giving one impression and if I say Londonderry I'm giving another. It's always been a dilemma for me.

Nowadays, I suppose in the name of political correctness, the media refers to the city as Derry/Londonderry - a bit of a mouthful. A couple of years ago my Mum told me about a radio personality there, a bit of a wit (and a guy I used to babysit for when I was a teenager incidentally) who has taken to calling the place Stroke City. I like that, and I think it would be a good idea to officially change the name to Stroke City. Then everyone could have a laugh about it and get on with life. So that's a bit of a long-winded introduction to this blog about our visit to my Mum in my hometown, where I lived for the first 18 years of my life.

We had a great time staying with Mum, some days sticking close to home and taking it easy, other days taking off on long drives to the coast or into the hills. Ireland is a stunningly beautiful country and it's not hard to pick a destination on the map.

It was in Stroke City that I did one of the scariest things on our trip - I permed my Mums hair! I didn't tell her at the time, but I was terrified she'd end up with a head-full of frizz and my hands were literally shaking. But all ended well and she looked wonderful.

Conal and Mum bonded by forming an ice cream lovers club and most nights they indulged in their passion.

While Mum and I hung out at home, Conal took to going for long walks and taking photos of what he discovered. He managed to get some great shots of the 'dirty ol' town'.

Just across the road from Mums place is St Columb's Park and we enjoyed many strolls around the park noticing the trees shedding their autumn leaves, soaking up the warmth of the sun on the odd occasion and feeling a nip in the air on others.
The Peace Bridge was just completed in July of this year. It links the Derry side of town (predominately catholic) with the Waterside (predominantly prodestant) and not only is it a beautiful bridge but it means my Mum can have a lovely walk to town in 20 minutes instead of having to catch a bus. And let's hope it encourages more integration for the community.
The Guildhall - where I used to perform in ballet competitions when I was a girl (I even one a first prize once).
Conal, Mum and I taking an early morning walk in the park.

The Walls - the city is surrounded by a wall built centuries ago and it makes for another interesting walk.

Looking down from the walls onto the Bogside, an area that saw a lot of violence during 'the troubles' of the 70's and 80's. Many murals have been painted on the sides of buildings symbolising the struggles of the catholic minority for civil rights and also for a united Ireland.

On a day trip to Bundoran we spotted Red Sean's. Conal checked out the surf but it wasn't inviting enough to entice him to hire a board, put on his wetsuit and brave the cold Atlantic - not when he knew he'd be back in Mexico surf in a few days time.

Mum and I enjoying the view of the Strand after our picnic (in the car). I deliberately took off a couple of layers to make it look like it was warmer, but I don't think I look very convincing.

On a day trip out to the countryside, heading in no particular direction, we came across some distinstively coloured locals. Coming from New Zealand, home to a vast sheep population, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen the 'ginga' sheep with my own two eyes.

Now driving down country lanes, enjoying the grand views that is the Northern Ireland countryside, it doesn't take long to come upon some sort of ruin or another.

To say it was on the cool side with a breeze would be a understatement. It was blowing a gale and we were well wrapped up.

Surfing Northern Ireland was pretty cool, (especially after the warm waters of Mexico), a new break, friendly locals and a good feed of fish and chips to warm me up after all was said and done.

Modern technogy certainly helps when picking which day to take the one hour drive out to the coast. After doing my homework on the computer surf forecast sites I returned to Portrush to score calm and glassy 3 ft conditions on a rare sunny day.

The staff at the Troggs Surf Shop were more than helpful when it came to my renting a board. The owner had just returned from an all expenses paid surf trip to Nicaragua, courtesy of Quiksilver. He had won a best dressed window competition to promote the upcoming ASP Quiksilver Pro contest in France. Mike was still on a high from his trip where he was in the company of some surfing legends, like Jeff Hakman.

Photo's below were taken a few days previously when we had all travelled out to the coast. The rather grim conditions did not really inspire me to return but I'm glad I made the effort.

It looking good in a few days time.................

Departing from Altrimcham, we swayed along the tram tracks towards our destination, The Theatre of Dreams - Old Trafford., the home of Manchester United.

My thoughts wandered back to when, at a young age, my fascination of the English game started. Why I joined Kelston West FC midgets instead of taking up Rugby League with the Glenoa Bears or Rugby with Ponsonby, out west Auckland, probably had a lot to do with my older brother Stephen playing soccer. Following in his footsteps, the game has played a big part in my life, not in the least Manchester United.

In the land of the oval ball game back in the 1960's / 70's one had to endure a bit of abuse but now New Zealand as a nation has grown to accept and even be proud of theie football. No longer the sissy game.

But it was in the late 1960's George Best, Bobby Charlton and Denis Law were names that meant more to me than Colin Meads and ..... (I'm struggling to think of anymore all Blacks from that period). While on the other side of the planet Ana was pinning up posters of George Best on her bedroom walls for completly different reasons.

We had a great day, arriving early to give us enough time to have a look around the stadium and to soak up the atmosphere. Everyone was good natured and we were not the only ones with cameras out getting those 'must be taken' photos.

George, Dennis and Bobby

As we walked around the stadium we came across the player entrance spotting Paul Scholes who is a legend in these parts. It would not be long before the game kicked off and between both sides there would be many world class players on display.

We then entered gate N45 and climbed the 170 steps up to our zone N4408. A sign at the bottom of the steps gave a warning that anyone with a medical condition or a lack of fitness were not to attempt the climb. Well, after all our trekking, climbing up and around ruins, and me surfing as much as possible we were up like a flash and enjoying a club sponsored beer before you could say 'drink'!

You could say there were a few there, and as kick off approached the crowd filtered in and took their seats. 75,454 on the day and we got seated in front of Nigel two Chins.

Nigel two Chins kept us entertained all game with his chanting, ranting and raving and his frustrations. You could say he wore his heart on his sleeve. If the ref made a contencious call out came his favourite chant:

                                        Fergies right, the referee's shite

Of course repeated over and over at the top of his voice, in his thick Manchurian accent. Ana and I loved it, the atmoshere, the chanting coming from other parts of the stadium. Then there was the action on the field, a wide open game, chances galore, many a talking point, glaring misses.

First goal coming up

Rooney's penalty miss

Final score

Over the years they've won a few trophys. GGMUFC

Our trip over to Manchester to watch United play was all the more special as we were going to visit and stay with Ana's darling cousin / friend Diane, good guy David, and their two wonderful daughters, Rachel and Rosanna.

A job transfer for David had them moving north a few years ago and they couldn't have picked a more beautiful place to live. Lymm is a small village between Liverpool and Manchester and if you imagine a characteristic English village, Lymm is that place.

A tranquil canal towpath which runs through the town had us spell bound as we explored the village and its surrounds. We ambled through woodlands and meadows with great views of the church, St Mary's, which dates back to 1850-2 and of the Lymm Dam. Strolling back through the village's unique historical building made for a magical day out.

Most of all, chatting and catching up with Diane and David was the most treasured part of our stay. They have a lovely home, which they themselves have restored, and two wonderful daughters who are growing up fast.  David and me, overjoyed with Ireland beating Australia at World Cup Rugby, Ana and Diane fighting over the restaurant bill, the girls getting ready for school, chatting with Diane over a long slow breakfast, viewing their Greece holiday slides. Simple marvellous times.

To share a few days with them, family, was great, such a transitiion from traveling and living in the America's.

Departing from John Lennon Airport, Imagine...............

It wasn't long before we were sufficiently recovered from our long journey to want to do some exploring in this gorgeous island. Despite typical Irish weather (including a not-so-typical hurricane) we went out and about to Ana's old haunts such as Downhill, Portrush and Buncrana.

Wonder why they called this place Downhill.

Old boarding homes in Portrush. Vegie soup, bread and Guinness for lunch.

The new Peace Bridge in Derry, joining communities and promoting peace.

Somewhere over the rainbow lies a dirty ol' town, dirty ol' town. Ana and Mum take a rest, halfway across the bridge. Sometimes it rains upwards in Ireland! Mum is lucky enough to live just across the road from St Columb's Park - a gorgeous woodland park graced with huge trees, little burns, a couple of children's playgrounds, football fields and squirrels. One of the joys of a stay in Ireland is to look at the map, pick some little spot in the middle of nowhere and then try to find it. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't but what you can be sure off is that you'll find so many other places of interest or beauty before you make your way home again. On our way back to Antrim to return our rental car, we stopped off at an old church in Banagher

The Bogside, so called for as the foundations of this proud catholic area was laid in marshland after part of the Foyle river was diverted away from the lowland area.

I remember my first visit to Londonderry, back in the day, when travelling with Remy and Jonathon, the days when the 'troubles' were still a daily occurance. We decided to visit the Bogside and as we strolled about the outer edges of the infamous area we approached three likely lads leaning up against a wall. Here we go, we all thought collectively, what have we got ourselves into now. As we got closer one pulled the cigarette from his lips and called out " are you hippies". I guess three kiwis lads after a few months on the road stuck out like sore thumbs to locals caught up in their struggle for both recognition and independence. They had a laugh at our appearence, we were pleased nothing more came from our site seeing tour.

That evening we went for a pint of Guinness and on enquiring why the pub was so busy, on a mid week night, we were told the sobering story of how the owners other drinking establishment was blown up the previous night so drinks were half price. I can't quite remember but I think we only stayed for the one pint (that night).

Thankfully these days are more peacfully and hopefully they may long continue, but 'the real IRA' have planted three bombs while we have been here leaving me to think I might be safer back in Mexico.

The murals

Flying up out of  Mexico City we saw first hand a blanket of smog covering the city. It was not a nice thought that we had just spent a few days breathing in the city's pollution problems. Maybe we won't spent much time there on our return after all.

Our stopover was in Miami, a city surrounded by ocean, with houses built on artifical islands.

........ My thoughts wandered to the American television series, Miami Vice from the 80's. A series starring Don Johnson and ................ (who was that other guy?) working undercover. It was different from the other TV series of its time as it integrated al ot of music and visual effects to tell the story. I could almost pick out Crockett and Tubbs speeding around in their power boat to synthesized instrumental music.........

Upon landing we had just enough time to get processed, into the USA, and walk to our next boarding gate to depart.

Most of our time was spent in a queue placing items, including our shoes ,into trays to be x-rayed, then reclaiming all our bits and pieces on the other side. We were ourselves x-rayed before being let on through.

Flying into London is always cool, saw the sun come up and spyed some London landmarks out the window.

On touch down at Heathrow I was in luck. As I was married to Ana (British passport) I could give the mile long queue (for non British citizens) a miss and get processed through customs with Ana. All the time saved though was spent waiting for our luggage to appear.

After half an hour or so we started to look at each other uneasily, as the information screen indicated all the baggage had been unloaded but there was no sign of our packs on the conveyor belt. While Conal kept watch for the packs, Ana went in search of help and was soon told that our luggage hadn't even left Mexico yet and it would turn out to be another two days before we were reunited with our backpacks in Londonderry. Credit to Delta Airways: they were most helpful. We kept receipts for 'essential items' that we had to buy in the first few days so hopefully they come good with their promise to reimburse us.

One more flight and we had touched down in Northern Ireland. Ana was in her homeland again.

We must be getting the hang of this travelling lark. In a city with a population of over 19 million we made our way to our accommodation with ease. We were soon settled and sitting down for an evening meal at Cafe Popular. As its names suggest, it sure is popular, with people queing at the door for a seat.

Waitresses worked overtime to keep the flow of customers turning over, competitive pricing, a simple menu but the ace up their sleeve was the coffee and pastry delights on offer.

The next day we were up real early (7.45am) so we could view the Mexican flag being raised in the zocalo, the third largest square in the world. Now in Mexico we have learnt that you cannot expect the expected, so we were left being entertained by seeing the city come alive rather than viewing government guards marching out in formation to raise their national flag. (We kept watch on the flagpole every time we passed it during the day and the flag never appeared.)

We arrived back to our hostel in time for our breakfast of fruit, eggs and Bimbo toast. I'm not sure we will turn blonde eating the bimbo bread but have had a few laughs when seeing the name plastered on the side of bread delivery vans, billboards, and as major football sponsors, on the front of football shirts.

We were distracted while in Mexico City, with a flight to Northern Ireland in a couple of days. We took in the nearby city sights, got caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life but as we are returning this way in a few weeks time we did not venture to any of the major tourist attractions. Time for that later. We were content to just soak up the atmoshere of the city, enjoying a meal at a vegeatrian restaurant, overlooking a wide walkway, checking out some shops, visiting an old crumbling church.

Surfing in dirty rivermouth breaks = ear trouble. While the surf was great I had ignored a warning from an Israeli surfer I'd met on my travels, "beware of the dirty water". He had previously suffered the same fate I was now facing and he wore ear plugs to avoid a repeat infection.

Being the rainy season, with anything and everything getting flushed down the rivers towards unsuspecting surfers, I guess it was no surprise I was suffering from ear infections, blocked ears plus a loss of hearing in one ear. By the time the infection made itself known, we were in a town at 2000m altitude that did not help matters. The added pressure on my ears made for an uncomfortable time. With flights to Northern Ireland looming and the prescribed antibiotics and ear drops seemingly not working (not to mention 3 doctors visits and ear syringing) we made the decision to return to sea level to help relieve the pressure on my ears and hopefully speed up my recovery.

Our next destination, to catch our flights to Northern Ireland, was going to be Mexico City (which also sits at altitude), so we decided to take a detour to Zihuatanejo on the coast and spend a few days recovering before heading back to Mexico City. Not wanting to put our mate's uncle and aunt, David and Lois, to any trouble, whom we had stayed with before when passing through that part of the coastline, we booked into a comfortable hostel right in the market area of the township.

We did make contact with David and Lois, as we had enjoyed their company on our last visit, and we were invited along to a Mexican fiesta the following evening, which turned out to be a pleasent evening with fine food and wine. We felt abit out of place (in typical kiwi bbq attire: jeans, tee shirts and jandals) but had a great time chatting to both American and Canadian couples who had sold up and made the decision to live permantly in Mexico. The party was held further up the hillside from David and Lois's place and had commanding views across the bay and we even got to witness a firework display from a wedding party being held down at one of the beachside restaurants.

The highlight of our second stay in Zihuatanejo was a titanic scrabble battle. Ana, after spying the scrabble set in our hostel, was dead keen for a game, which took place on the balcony of our hostel.

With liquid refreshments at hand I won a close fought match which had Ana wanting, straight away, a rematch. I held her off for a day but relented and let her win the 2nd match, just to keep the peace. Was it that I didn't want to ruin our trip away, or was it her vast superior word power that won through. ummmmm.....

David and Lois were so helpful with organising a Sunday morning appointment with their doctor, who actually spoke good English, for a fourth opinion on the state of my ears. He got on top of the problem with the end result, me getting a neddle stuck in my bumba. Strange that he was treating my ears I thought, (anti imfammatories)

Sadistically Ana took photographic evidence, so sorry if there was no smile for the camera but I was in a bit of pain!!!

Once again David and Lois were more than helpful, great people and good company. Anyone travelling through Mexico and visiting Zihuatanejo, a stay at Zanzibar Vacation Rental Home will make the perfect place to put your feet up.

www.zihuatanejo.net/zanzibar/                          vzanzibar@hotmail.com

We had time to take in some sites around the township, it was great to get a bigger perpective of the township and surrounds.

A beautiful stretch of the coastline.