How many people does it take to eat one sandwich and a slice of cheesecake?

A sandwich too big for four people!

At Harold's Diner, it takes more than four to even come close to finishing this feast. This place is famous for it's sandwiches - they're enormous. In fact, everything is enormous at Harold's. Giant sandwiches, giant onion rings, giant drinks, giant cakes and, unsurprisingly, some giant customers. It's in Jersey, between New York and Washington DC. It's the perfect treat after two nights boozing in the big apple with our mates, Amy and Matt. Dinner at the meat packing district, drinks in the shade of the Empire State Building, tequila at Hogs Heffers (the original coyote ugly bar), buffalo wings and beer in the East Village, and now Harold's. No complaints from this side of the bar ...

Mmmmm, we are a little drunk I suspect??

More New York photos

The land of the free?

Taking a break in Central Park

We don't think so. Everything costs you money in ol' New York. Everything, that is, except Central Park. We're now staying on the upper west side, just a couple of blocks from this giant green oasis in the middle of the city. It's the perfect antidote to big city madness. After a couple of hours of 'green' time, we're ready and raring to go. Tonight we're going in search of soul food in Harlem: catfish, mac and cheese, cornbread and some sweet soul music. Oh yeah.

Death by Peanut Butter

Peanut Butter & Co: for hardcore peanut butter lovers

We've taken refuge from the rain in Peanut Butter & Co and we've destroyed ourselves by gorging on a peanut brownie with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. In our defense though, the Brownie was the most conservative choice on the menu. At Peanut Butter & Co, you can get a Death by Peanut Butter sundae made of peanut butter, peanut butter crunch ice-cream, Reeses pieces, peanut butter chips, whipped cream and peanut butter sauce. Or perhaps you'd prefer the Fluffernutter, a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, or Ants on a Log, which is celery sticks topped with peanut butter and raisins.

None of it's good for you, but we've been walking the streets of Chelsea, Soho, and downtown all day, and we're walking to Brooklyn tonight, so we're telling ourselves that we've earned it. Not sure what the parents next to us are thinking though: their kids have smeared marshmallow fluff onto peanut butter and nutella sandwiches, which they are now stuffing down their gobs and smearing all over their faces. There's no way that's not going to come back and bite them in the arse later ...

Brooklyn: how sweet it is ...

Brooklyn Bridge at dusk

The view of Manhattan from Brooklyn

The big apple

Downtown New York

We had a feeling we'd like this city ... but we don't. We love it! Perhaps we're not destined to live in Australia? Maybe a little stint in the big apple is just what we need? We've pounded the pavement here for two days and we just can't get enough of this crazy city: Manhattan, Staten Island ferry, Fifth Avenue, Wall Street, and the Statue of Liberty are already checked off the list. So much still to come, including a few little glasses of pink goodness. Mmmm, cosmopolitans!

Manhattan skyscrapers

Lady Liberty

Last drinks

London liver wars

London's South Bank in summer - in fact, at any time of the year - is one of my favourite places, and today is no exception. It's blowing a bloody gale and is only warm when you're standing in direct sunlight, but no-one here cares. Behind me, the outdoor bar at festival hall is packed with post-work winos. Every inch of park bench is occupied with people soaking up whatever sun they can, listening to a trombone player to the left and the accordion player to the right. The walkway is heaving with a steady parade of walkers, joggers, cyclists and skateboarders. Even the boats on the Thames are packed inside and out.

We've been back in Stinktown for a week now. It's been a whirl of catch-ups and last hurrahs, with the ubiquitous 'London Pub' featuring far too regularly on our itinerary to be healthy. Today I am waiting to meet Sarah-Jane. She was possibly the first friend I made in London five years ago and she has been my pub companion on too many evenings to mention. It's easy to see how tonight is going to pan out - dinner and a bottle of wine, a cheeky drink on the way to the station, then another ... next thing you know it's morning, I'm trying not to be sick on the tube and swearing that next time I'll stick to one small glass of wine (none at all is too much to hope for!).

There's no doubt I'll miss SJ and all of our London mates, but we've got to get out. Apart from the irreversible damage we're doing to our livers, we're hemorrhaging cash. We spent five days budget on our second day here and it's only gotten worse. Lucky we love this city. We love it's vibe, the buzz, the history, the buildings, and the grit and grime. We're certainly glad we came back for one final farewell, but we're also a little relieved it's for a good time not a long time.

Going out with a bang!

• A car crash
• A shoot out
• A big greasy parrilla (grill)
  

Now that's a real South American ending. Everyone who travels around this continent should tick off at least one of these things, and Lima is as good a place as any to get your fill.

We got our car crash when our cabbie cut off another cabbie just before lunch today. No major damage, but it was enough to make our cabbie get out and give the other driver a mouthful, even though he caused it. We, meanwhile, sat in the car and cheered, ecstatic to have finally been involved in a little bingle.

We got our shoot out later in the afternoon - well, not exactly a shoot out. But there were gunshot holes, lots of police and a media frenzy, so I'm going to say it was a shoot out.

Now, we're lying down in the hostel and our bellies are chock full of our last parrilla feast: half a chicken, a giant steak, a mound of soggy chips, a mountain of lettuce coated in dressing, and red wine that tastes like Ribena but must be wine because it comes out of box with 'Wine' on the side. All this goodness for less than $10 (for both of us). Now that's what I call going out on a high ...

Tomorrow we're jumping a plane back to London. That means it's adios to the death-defying bus rides, the crazy cabbies, the incomprehensible conversations, the lovable juice ladies, the 10 stores selling the same item on the one street, Shakira, the non-descript meat dishes, the cold 'hot' water showers, the hazardous electric showers, and the amazing South American people with their permanent smiles and never-ending hospitality.

To London we go.

More football, more beach time and two happy campers

Carl the beach bum

We're watching football again - this time, it's Italy v Netherlands in the Euro. We've just worked out that Carl has watched at least one game of football in almost every country we've visited over the past eight months. The only exceptions have been:

• Auckland (we were only there for one nights)
• Chile (we were only there for four nights)

It's an impressive tally even for Carl, and in three days we'll be back in London with all the pubs, pints and football he can handle. Still, I suppose everyone needs a vice. My endless quest for sunshine has been well and truly sated over the past three weeks, so I am happy. First the Galapagos, then Montanita, and now three days in Mancora, where there is little more to do than sit on the beach and wonder which seafood restaurant you're going to choose for dinner.

We've almost survived!

We have just two more bus journeys left in South America: tonight's overnight bus ride to Mancora in northern Peru and, in two days, an overnight bus to Lima. We've been reminiscing, trying to decide which bus ride has been the most dangerous over the past six months but there are too many. Too many nights spent clinging desperately to our chairs as the bus speeds around mountain roads, nothing but cliff below. Too many moments we've held our breath as the bus driver overtakes on a blind corner, unable to see what dangers lurk on the other side. Too many times we've stared into the headlights of an oncoming truck and thought 'this is it', before the driver zips back to the right side of the double yellow lines. Too many time we've wondered how someone so reckless behind the wheel can be given responsibility for the lives of 40 passengers.

In light of this, we've simply decided to rank the countries we've been to in order of risk - number one being the most dangerous country to take a bus, number six the least:

1. Columbia
2. Ecuador
3. Bolivia
4. Peru
5. Uruguay
6. Argentina