Six friends, one Parisian apartment ...

... and a couple of bottles of Moet. Now that's what I call Christmas! We've been talking about having a 'friends' christmas for such a long time. Can't really think of a better way to celebrate than in an apartment in Paris, with copious amounts of wine, cheese and pastry.

So what if we wasted our first and only clear day in the apartment?

Christmas chaos

Right now, I am trying to be very tres chic by tapping away on our Mac on the Eurostar to Paris, but we very nearly didn’t make it. Two days before the Christmas travel onslaught a dense frosty fog descended over Stinktown bringing almost all airports to a grinding halt. Our flights were cancelled yesterday along with thousands of other domestic and short haul European flights. My first thought was that the curse of Emma and Carl had returned with a vengence. When our friends and paris travel partners, Ash and Sarah, told us of their own travel track record (two trips to Queensland thwarted by bad weather?), we knew we were screwed.

BUT WE ARE NOT PUT OFF EASILY. Our apartment in Paris awaits so we threw caution to the wind, slapped our credit cards over the counter for some ridiculously priced Eurostar tickets and joined the hoardes of edgy travellers at Waterloo station.

To say it was packed would be an understatement. We enjoyed a little argy bargy with a pompous git in a lemon (not yellow) cashmere sweater – he called Carl a kookaburra! – and made it to the train with minutes to spare. Sitting here now with the beautiful French countryside flying past, it’s all pretty amusing. Although I think the crazy screaming woman at the security check may disagree.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Sarah and Em get their skates on

Last year, Carl broke the cardinal novice ice skating rule by refusing to let go of my hand when he fell over and sent me sailing on my stomach across the ice. But ice skating has become a bit of a christmas tradition for us here in London, so I wasn't about to let that spill or Carl's "bad knee" put me off. In fact, I am sure we could all think of worse ways to start our christmas holiday this year. A couple of twirls around the Tower of London ice rink followed by dinner at Busaba Eathai (well worth the half hour wait outside in the freezing cold). And not a bruise or broken bone in sight.

The golden circle

Typical. Last night we skipped Reykjavik's notorious pub crawl, the Runter, and headed out in search of the northern lights. All the signs were there - clear skies, no wind, and the northern light tour buses had headed out for the first time in three or four days. But, alas, we drove and we drove and we drove. And we waited and we waited and we waited. And we saw nothing. Just the black night sky. No spectacular green light show. Nothing.

At breakfast this morning, we listened in on other people's conversations intently just in case their luck was better than ours. Didn't sound like it. It did sound like they had a bloody good time on the Runter though. Bugger.

Definitely worth leaving the comfort of your car to get a snap like this!

Oh well. Onwards and upwards. Not wanting to dwell on our bad luck, we hit the road again. This time, we were searching for the Golden Circle. And no, I am not talking about some kind of kinky Icelandic invention to help pass the time on those cold dark winter days. The Golden Circle refers to the three unique sites just outside of Reykjavik: Gulfoss, Geysir and Pingvellir.

We did this little tour in reverse, just because we could, so first stop was Pingvellir national park, the site of the world's first democratic Parliament - the Alping.

The Alping

You gotta give it to the Vikings. They picked a pretty spectacular spot to sit and gesticulate over the big issues. The area sits on the edge of an immense rift caused by the separating North American and Eurasian tetonic plates and was made a Unesco world heritage site in 2004. Set up in 930 AD, you can still see the remains of the booths, where the Vikings camped. Nearby is Iceland's largest lake, Pingvalavatn. Unfortunately, it was too bloody cold for us to do much exploring but I did manage to take the money shot of the weekend.

The money shot - Pingvallavatn, Iceland's largest lake

Stop number two: the three spouting hot springs at Geysir. The biggest spring, the Great Geysir, was clogged years ago by stupid tourists chucking things into it to get it to explode. But you can still get excited (?) about Strokkur, which bubbles away like crazy and explodes every ten minutes or so ... it sounds naff, but it's kinda cool ...

Carl times his shot perfectly

Emma tries to be funny

Stop three: Gulfoss, a massive double waterfall. By the time we reached Gulfoss, the temperature had plummeted to about -10. Add a serious windchill and it's fair to say that there wasn't that much enjoyment to be had here. Unless, of course, you count the monster truck, which I think was the highlight of Carl's day!

Gulfoss (golden falls)

Slightly bigger - and perhaps appropriate for driving around icy roads - than our little Fiat punto!

Geothermal bliss!

The Sun-Craft sculpture with Mt Esja in the background

We took this photo at noon. The sun only came up half an hour earlier, which made it damn hard to wake up this morning. We were meant to have set out much earlier - this was our first stop - but who really gives a damn when you are on holidays!

We rented a car today and drove and drove and drove. At points, we were the only car for miles. We took a detour, seduced by a large blob of steam in the distance which didn't seem to be moving at all, and ended up in the carpark of one of the many geothermal plants that power this city. Most of Reyjavik's energy is piped from volcanic areas in the form of super-heated geothermal water, so there is barely any pollution. It's a far cry from the smog filled skies of stink town. Our lungs almost couldn't cope, so we sought comfort at the Blue Lagoon, one of Iceland's most famous attractions.

Steam from a geothermal plant

The Blue Lagoon is a spa about 50km out of Reyjavik in the middle of a vast black lava plain. We timed our visit perfectly - no tour groups in sight. In fact, it was nearly empty and, at times, we felt like the only people there. According to the guidebook, the Blue Lagoon has its critics but "most people have to be dragged out, sobbing and swearing to return" ... it' safe to say that we were no different to "most people".

It was 38 degrees in the water and about -5 out. After three blissful hours, we finally worked up the willpower to hit the showers. We left relaxed, happy, and looking just a little odd with red faces and solid hair.

Relaxing in the blue lagoon!

It's icy in Iceland

Not surprising, I know. But even the runway at Keflavik airport was a big long block of ice this morning.

Touching down in Iceland - thank god we had a female pilot!

We enjoyed the most spectacular views along the southern coast as we flew in - glaciers, volcanic rock and ice all tinged pink from the sun which sits just on the horizon.

Iceland from above

It's very cool (pardon the pun) to be somewhere that is so completely different from other places we have been. The city feels very christmassy and it already wins a double-thumbs up for serving us our first good strong flat white in a long long time. Thank you, Kaffatir! And the ol' Viking juice ain't too bad either ...

Viking beer - now that's a tough beer

Georgy porgy!

As far as political statements go, this one is pretty explicit. Thankfully, for most of his concert, George Michael stuck to what he knows best ... belting out some amazing tunes which took us right back to Wham. SJ took a great clip during Careless whispers but the chick standing next to her was given it all she had, so all you can hear is some squeaky pom ... and no, I am not talking about George Michael. He really was Amazing!

George Bush - lets go outside in the sunshine

No rest for the wicked ...

Blarney Castle, Cork

Less than 24 hours after arriving home from Turkey, we were back at the airport and gearing up for a bit of Irish craic. This time, the destination was Cork, chosen for no other reason except that we fancied some Guinness, we'd already been to Dublin and Belfast and we thought we might like a bit of blarney stone action, if you know what I mean.

Emma kissing the blarney

Clearly, I enjoyed my time with the blarney. Although god knows I am not in need of the gift of the gab. But it is actually not as easy as it looks to hang upside down, and smack your lips on a bit of stone ...

Carlos couldn't tear himself away from the Blarney

A trip to the moon

Cappadocia from above

Well, not quite. But from the hot air balloon this morning that's what Cappadocia looked like. A vast moonscape.

Goreme

We've headed 10 hours inland from Antalya to Goreme, which is a magical little place in central Cappadocia set amid towering tuff cones (or fairy chimneys), cliffs and vineyards. The weather has turned a little nasty but when you're cocooned in a cosy cave bar with a roaring fire and a couple of bottles of red, like we were last night, the weather is irrelevant.

Enjoying a wine in Goreme's only wine bar. The owner used to play football in the Turkish league and loved the culture of NZ (he'd never been there ... but he had worked out that kiwi Katherine was the only single girl among us)

We're here to explore the cave houses, underground cities and centuries old-churches, chapels and monasteries carved into the cliffs by the Byzantines. We're staying in a converted old cave church, owned by Hassan, who was born and bred in Goreme which makes him a modern day caveman. Very cool. Our rooms are caves, decorated in beautiful Cappadocian rugs, pottery and other handicrafts. From our spot on the top of a hill, we have views across Goreme, which really comes into its own at night when the lights twinkle in the fairy chimneys. I'm gushing, I know. Sorry ...

Our hotel room - yep, it's a cave

Today was jampacked:

• a balloon flight, with 15 japanese and a Belguim pilot named Gert who took more photos than the japanese
  
• a walk through Ihara valley, a massive gorge with ancient churches carved into its sides and local villagers harvesting potatoes in its gully
• a visit to Derinkuyu underground city, which has seven levels and is one of an estimated 36 underground cities of Cappadocia, possibly dating back 4000 years to Hittite times
• a short stop at a caravansari (camel market) along the Silk Road

And finally, a drink in the Flinstones Bar. Priceless.

A taste of the good life

Antalya harbour

We arrived in Antalya last night and managed to score a couple of bargain rooms in an 18th century konak (mansion) which had been turned into a super posh hotel complete with bath robes, slippers, free shampoo and concierges with little ear pieces (significantly more upmarket than the crumbling hostels we've become accustomed to).

So, we thought we'd continue to treat ourselves today before we boarded an overnight bus to head inland to Cappadocia. Think private boat cruise on the mediterranean ...

Lunch on the deck with a beautiful waterfall as backdrop ...

Diving from the boat into crystal clear water ...


And a few hours kip in the sun ...

Nope, we hadn't won the lotto. But there are substantial benefits to travelling at the end of the high season when the coastal towns are desperate for a bit of business before winter hits. The girls also thought they would treat themselves to a hamman (turkish bath). Two hours, five layers of skin , and some uncomfortable intimate moments with a couple of wrinkly turkish women later ...

The pools of Pammukale

Carl at the top of the travertine pools of Pammukale

The pools at Pammukale were formed when warm mineral water cascaded over the cliff edge, cooling and depositing its calcium. These pools were almost sucked dry when hotels were built at the top of the cliff in the 1980s. Thankfully, the hotels are long gone and the pools of water are slowing filling up again.

Emma wading through the pools on the way back to the bus

Remembering the Anzacs at Gallipoli

Gallipoli is definitely a place everyone should visit once. Thousands of Aussies and Kiwis make the pilgrimage here for Anzac day each year to remember those who lost their lives during the first world war. But, at this time of year, things are definitely much quieter, giving you the chance to really get to grips with what took place here in 1915.

Anzac Cove, where the ill-fated Allied landing was made on 25 April 1915

There is so much to tell about this place ... more casualties on the Turkish side than all of the allied forces put together, German ships disguised as Turkish ships, botched landings, fateful tea breaks by the British and, of course, amazing stories of camaraderie between the Turks and the Anzacs fighting eight metres apart in the trenches. They were so close that a grenade could pass back and forth between them a number of times before it exploded. They could swap newspapers and cigarettes across the trenches, and sing to each other. In fact, when they were building one of the Turkish monuments, they found the bodies of two soldiers, still clinging to each other - one was Turkish, the other was British.

Australian forces captured the Turkish positions at Lone Pine on 6 August. The memorial remembers the 4000 soldiers who lost their lives in just a few days in this assault.

We stayed at Anzac House, which was cheap. But, if you've got a little more cash to splash, head to Maydos Hotel, owned by same company. It's right on the waterfront in Canukkale, and is a good spot to watch the Turkish families promenade each evening!

Forget the horse, head to the ancient ruins

Forget the horse at Troy. It sucks. Get a good local guide and head for the ruins hidden behind it. Over the years, nine ancient cities have been discovered at this site, built one on top of the other and dating back to 3000BC. Four of the cities were discovered by a German/Californian archeologist but unfortunaely he destroyed another three cities in the process. Still worth a look though. Just remember, you need a good guide to bring it to life.

Getting reacquainted ...

with the joys of squat toilets. Not something I was looking forward to at all based on my experiences in Egypt and Jordan but I knew it would have to happen at some point. Faced with a six hour bus journey from Istanbul to Cannakale with a full bladder or a couple of minutes in a filthy squattie, I knew what I had to do. On this particular day, luck was on my side - I was wearıng a skirt which makes the old squatty much easier to manouver. Others were not so lucky. Boys, let me just say, you will never understand the things us girls have to go through until you've been forced to take one leg out of your jeans, sling it over your shoulder (the leg of your jeans, not your leg of course), hold a packet of tissues under your chin and try to balance without touching any part of the filthy grimy walls. I'll leave it there, shall I?

The city to beat all cities

As far as first impressions go, Istanbul is hard to beat. Breakfast on the roof terrace of your hotel with views of the mighty Bosphorous strait, which divides Europe and Asia. A turkish coffee in the Grand Bazaar, a stroll through the busy market area of Tahtakale and the banter of the vendors in the chaotic Spice Bazaar. The permanent line of fisherman on the Galata Bridge. The unmistakable minarets and domes of the Blue Mosque and Ayasofya. The labrinyth of bars, restaurants and shops in Beyoglu. The kebaps, the turkish delight and the fish sandwiches cooked fresh by the harbour. The call to pray resounding from the mosques dotted throughout the city.

This city really has it all ... including an Irish pub which shows premiership football games with commentary in English. And Liverpool just happened to be playing. Yep, Carl wins again.

Ayasofya from the steps of the Blue Mosque

The enormous interior of Ayasofya

No shortage of shopping opportunities. If you can't find what you want, believe me, you aren't looking hard enough

The view from our roof terrace

We stayed at the Hanedan Hotel in Sultanahmet.

Surviving the Turkish scrum

The blue mosque at dusk

Arrived in istanbul late this afternoon. This place is absolutely buzzing because Ramadan (known as Ramazan in Turkey) finishes tomorrow. Should be a nice little party when its over and everyone gorges themselves after a month of fasting. Have just been out for a kepab and a few beers. Tomorrow, we will be kicking in doing some sightseeıng ... provided the kepab doesn't make a return appearance. Ate at a street stall, which is usually cardinal sin number one in countries like Turkey, but it looked so tasty!

So many people here and, let me tell you, if you think London tubes are rough, they have nothing on the metro in Istanbul. It's like a scrum. They don't even let you get off before they are hurlıng themselves aboard and running for the nearest chair. Its a dog eat dog world here. The English and their polite queuiıng rule be damned.

We stayed at Bahaus Guesthouse.

Top ten tips for surviving a trip with the olds

My top five

1. Stick your brother on tourist duties
2. Keep them slightly tipsy with homemade mid-afternoon mojitos
3. Introduce them to the traditional English pub quiz - that way you don't have to make small talk at the pub
4. Take them to all of your favourite restaurants and let them insist on paying
5. Agree with everything they say because they are always right

Mum's top five

1. Agree with everything they say because they are always right
2. Stay slightly tipsy with mid-afternoon mojitos
3. Don't offer to pay because they'll accept
4. Don't believe them when they tell you something is oly five minutes away. That's code for half an hour
5. Get in some quality time while you can

Waz, mum and I at Waxy O'Connors

Greenwich, Cambridge and other expeditions into the English pysche

You've got visitors and you can't leave stinktown? Don't fret, time to dust off the Britain Lonely Planet and do all those things you love doing in old Blightly, like eat and be merry, as well as those things you've always wanted to do but have been to hung over or lazy.

Mum and Gus arrived for a whirlwind tour about a week and a half ago, but I've got no visa. So we made the most of the good weather and treated them (and us) to some fun and games here. Including ...

Punting on the river Cam in Cambridge

V-fest, V-fest, V-fest: take two

I know, I know, it looks suspect. But Wazza isn't pregnant. He is, however, a man who will go to great lengths for his beer. At last year's V-Festival, we didn’t realize you weren’t able to take your own booze into the arena and were left completely broke by the cost of a pint at the bars. This year, though, Waz had come prepared. He had his own secret weapon and was determined to beat Virgin, the corporate monster, at its own game. The beer belly – not a real one – was filled with 6 pints of beer. And it worked … on the second try. Hehe. Love your work, Waz.

The other valuable lesson we learned from last year's V-fest was that you need to be prepared for all kinds of weather. As usual, the skies opened up while we were putting up our tents, turning the grounds into a muddy mess. Then five minutes later the sun came out. That means you should never EVER attempt to spend four days at a summer music festival without a pair of wellies (that's gumboots for us Aussies) ... and a hat. Hence the farmer joe attire.

None of that really matters though. Cause when you get down to it, the only thing that mattered at the V-festival this year was the music. Two days of awesome music. For Carl, the highlight was definitely Radiohead. Right up there was Beck, Gomez and the Glimmer Twins.

For me, it was Groove Armada and Paolo Nuitini (okay, and secretly the sugar babes but Donna liked them more).

We had a wicked weekend, clearly. But don't worry. I've found a way for you all to hear and see some of the tunes from the weekend. Click on the links below to view our videos:

Superstyling
The Beck puppet movie