Sunday, June 27, 2010

The Soundtrack to my Trip

It's no secret I'm a bit of a music snob, but it's justified in the fact I'm definitely not a food snob. As long a you're not a snob in every facet of life then it's ok to get on you're high horse when it comes to your passion.

Europe is the mecca for so many wonderful things, unfortunately music is not one of them. They really need to sort their shit out because we have bee stalked by the same, horrendous songs from start to finish. I swear if I hear We No Speak Americano one more time I will punch someone. So here is our European mix-tape, these songs have literally played on a continuous loop:

- Memories, David Guetta and Kid Cudi: On average, this song comes on at least 3 times per night. To manage the pain we've taken to singing the chorus in a creepy Cyrpiatic accent. The voice derives from a hilarious chap, who was from Cyrpus. We met him in Mykonos and he sung the chorus in his broken english and with a lisp. It's a shit song, but it's given us the 'besssssht memorrriesssh.'

- Sexy Bitch, Akon and David Guetta: Damn who's a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch? These creative lyrics have punctuated our many adventures.

- Winner, David Guetta and Kelly Rowland: Mr Guetta, you really have a monopoly going on the Eurotrash scene right now! You seriously can't escape hearing your drivel.

And the other tunes we've learned to just laugh and dance along to, even though it's against everything we believe in are: Riverside, Bad Romance and Miami. Oh the shame. They may not be our cup of tea, but they'll always be our special Europe songs.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

The Disaster Diaries

WARNING: If harsh language offends, don't read this. I drop way too many f-bombs but no other word conveys my emotions as well. Sincere apologies for this potty mouth post. 

I thought bad luck was only suppose to come in threes. But apparently it can come in tens. As a disclaimer, I want you to know this is by no means a whingey poo post. In fact, I would have giggled myself a six pack in the last week if it wasn't for all the treats I've been gorging on. 


Europe so far has been loads of fun. Lots of beaches, tapas and sangria. I am loving being a backpacker again and having two of my best friends by my side. Our first Saturday night out in Barcelona was amazing. We rampaged up the main drag of La
Rambla, bar hopped, danced with cute boys to Euro Trash music and stayed out till 4.30am despite being in transit from 5am that previous morning.

But we have had an endless string of disasters that it's actually just become a bit of a joke. The myriad of fuck-ups are definitely worth documenting. To say my friend Penny is super organised wouldn't be doing her justice. Penny is amazing. She also does a mean arse spreadsheet, which is always a tell tale sign of a travelling genius. Without her, I would be screwed. She's done a brilliant job of organising this trip and is very clever. But it just goes to show it doesn't matter how organised you are - sometimes the Karma Chameleon has other plans up her sleeve. 



Welcome to the Disaster Diaries!

Plane ride:
As Penny is peacefully dozing, she is rudely awoken by chunks of vomit raining down on her arm and head. Some twat has ran in the opposite direction of the loo and projectile vomited down the aisle. There is a reason they give you spew bags, fool. Like most people, Penny's not too fond of getting spewed on and is quite repulsed. The poor thing has to wait several more hours before the plane lands and can change her clothes. 


First night:

Arrive at Heathrow airport, go to pick up bags. Nell, Penny and I all retrieve our bags. Inga's is a no show. Reassure Inga that of course her bag is coming. Still no bag. We promise it will come. We think. Baggage carousel stops spinning. No more bags. Fuck. Go to baggage reclaim counter and fill out lost form. Freaking out bag may be stuck in Dubai. Notice there is a greenish backpack that's a similar colour to Inga's left behind, decide to call their number. Idiot dude has accidentally picked up Inga's bag instead of his, blames the 24 hour flight and the fact they are both green, even though his is a BACKPACK and her's is WHEELIE. Lots of swear words are exchanged, but we are so relieved. 


Finally at cosy London hotel for the night. Snuggle up to the warm doona an
d pass out. Big mistake. Should have slept on floor. Wake up feeling fresh and ready to conquer Spain. Arrive at Malaga airport, notice about 5 bites on my face and neck. Awesome. Bed bugs on my first fucking night and it wasn't even a dingy hostel! Thankfully no more bites appear, and they fade in a few days. Dammit, should not have cuddled doona so passionately.

Day four:

Arrive in Barcelona with a spring in our step, this city looks awesome and we're ready to explore. Go to hostel to dump backpacks. "Um," the receptionist says nervously, "the thing is, you've made the booking for July, not June". Stomach sinks. Fuckity, fuckity, fuck. We all made this booking together months ago and were probably too excited to notice. Luckily there's still availabilities and she fits us in, it's a bit above our planned
budget but we're just happy to have somewhere to stay. Phew. Laugh for the rest of the day at our silly mistake. 

Order lunch. Penny picks fish. Turns out to be something called foire. Looks like spew. Tastes like spew. Being the trooper she is, she forces down a few mouthfuls. According to Google it's fattened duck liver. Now poor Penny wants to spew. Inga gets the smallest salad I've ever seen and costs a fortune. I get 'nachos' which consists of 5 m
easly corn chips and mashed up avocado. Worst meals ever. 

Day six:
Peeing pants with excitement about heading to Santorini today. It's definitely the place we're looking forward to the most. We're flying to Athens then catching a ferry. Arrive at Barcelona airport with lots of time to spare for our flight. Already checked in online so just have to check in our bags. Hop in line. Line becomes unruly with lots of fuck wits pushing in. A family of 15 then sneaks in. Urge to stab family grows. Remain calm.

Decide to change lines into the regular check in as this line is not moving. Swap lines and finally get to counter, beat the online check in line we were previously standing in. Defeats the
whole purpose of checking in online, wasn't it suppose to speed things up? Shitty customer service and stupid line sneaks ruined that plan. Flight not leaving for more than half an hour anyway so it's ok, phew. 

AIR VUELLING BITCH: I'm sorry but luggage has just closed, we can't check your bags in.


US: Umm.... Pardon?



AIR VUELLING BITCH: Unsympathetically shrugs 

US: But the flight doesn't leave for ages, so many people just pushed in front of us it's not our fault! Surely you can just pop our bags through, please? 


AIR VUELLING BITCH: Sorry, it's not possible. You'll have to get another flight
to Athens. 

Run around airport madly trying to find another flight to Athens. Nothing till tomorrow. Devastated. Stand in line to buy new tickets. 


ME: This is like a bad dream. This is going to stuff up everything. 


LOVELY AMERICAN GIRL: Did you guys miss your flight too? 


End up chatting to our gorgeous new friend, Alicia, who has also missed her fli
ght. Contemplate having an airport slumber party to save money but decide we'll all split an airport hotel for the night. Head back to hotel with new friend and assess the damage. We've lost shit loads of money. 85 Euro for new plane ticket (one thing Vuelling did help with was halfling the cost!), accommodation for Santorini still has to be paid for as we didn't give enough cancellation notice, wasted ferry tickets we'd already bought and 30 Euro for the hotel. Ouch. 

Call ferry company to see if we can get to Mykonos tom
orrow. Of course there is a boat strike so we can't till Thursday. Bugger. Fork out 5 euro (so against the grain of my cheap backpacker attitude but we had no other option) for the internet and quickly find a hostel for the night we'll have to spend in Athens. Book hostel. Can finally relax, everything sorted. Get email from hostel. There's been a 'technical glitch' and they are actually full. Awesome.

Decide to get some vino and drink our sorrows. Wine fixes everything. Have a genuinely fun night with our new friend despite being at a creepy airport hotel, when we should be in a villa in Santorini. Make plans to hopefully meet up with her in Croatia. Sometimes i
t doesn't matter where you are, it's the company you're with.

Day Seven:
Finally in Athens and we have affectionately nicknamed our accommodation the Suicide Inn. It looks like a place where people come to die. But hallelujah, We are heading off to Mykonos tomorrow morning! We are absolutely shattered we missed out on Santorini but now it's just become the Word We Do Not Speak Of. Santa-who? Santa-awful. That's who. Santorini Schmeenie. Santorini is for honey-mooning suckers. We have become so suspicious of our bad luck that I won't believe I'll be in the Greek Islands till I actually arrive in Mykonos. And when I do, I am going to kiss the ground, and hopefully some hot boys.



I'm exhausted, defeated, but strangely smug that we've managed to have fun in such crazy situations.

PS. If anyone has the nerve to correct my spelling/ grammar I'll kill them. You try writing on a Greek keyboard in a shitty hostel, in a rush so you're not a computer hog. It's hard. I've done my best and considering they use an entirely different alphabet I'm happy with it. Apologies for any typos but I'll proof read and edit later. Muchos grazias! Yes that's Spanish, but I'm addicted to saying it.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Traveller Stereotypes

A new batch of people arrive at the hostel....

ME: Hmm any hotties?
INGA: Nah, they're too global trecker.
ME: Yeah, you're right. Like look at me, I have dread locks and wear tie dye.

INGA: And I just refuse to wear shoes.



ME: And I have to travel with my guitar, I'm so cultured.

INGA: Or my ukelele.

One Hippie Global Trecker gets closer and turns around, we see
he is actually carrying a guitar on his back. Cue the fits of laughter.



Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Confession: I Genuinely Like Plane Food

I also love plane coffee. I love the powdered milk and the special mixing wand they give you. Yummers. I am dead set excited to see what Emirates has on the menu. You food snobs can judge me all you like, but you need something to get you through that never ending flight to the other side of the world. Some people look forward to the the movies, others listen to their pod. I get psyched for the meals. Au revoir. I will be keeping you updated on the European Bonanza, love Bella xx

Monday, June 14, 2010

A Treat For Your Ears

Since the tragic death of my iTunes, I've become a YouTube girl to satisfy my music cravings. It's still not the same as having it on my pod, but will have to do for now. Also, did you know you can't buy singles at the CD shop anymore? Crazy times.


Anyway, I am loving Swoon, by the Chemical Brothers.

Poor Form Sportsgirl.

For weeks, I have been searching for The Perfect, Turbo Security Handbag for Euro. Poor Shan Dog has been dragged along on countless lunch breaks to study the mechanics of hundreds of bags.

I finally thought I'd found The One. A pretty tanned satchel, called the stitch me crazy hobo bag from old faithful Sporty-G. It wasn't too cheap and nasty, it was actually sixty bloody dollars!

I wasn't going to wear it until my trip, but I decided to take it for a test spin this weekend. Within 5 minutes of wearing it, the strap had come undone and the bag had fallen to the ground. Hmmm not so turbo after all. In fact, one would say this is the ideal bag for robbers.

Turns out I didn't inspect this bag too thoroughly, the handle is tied in a pansy knot on both connecting ends. It can barely hold the weight of my wallet without coming undone. They may as well have just stapled on the handle, it's pathetic. I tied a tight, fancy knot - but to no avail, it fell off me about 5 times that afternoon. And the zip broke! What's going on Sportsgirl, do you employ monkeys to design your bags?


I should have paid more attention to the word hobo in the title.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

The Best Way to Read About Politics? Through the Words of Josh Thomas.

Bravo to Josh Thomas for sprucing up the drab, and making it fab. His article in yesterday's Age took a refreshing angle on the dwindling popularity of K-Rudd and Tony Abbot's homophobic attitude. It made me chuckle, while raising some really valid points. If only more political journalists wrote like Josh, then youngins' might pay some attention.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

I'm a Door Bitch. I have a Clip Board and an Ear Piece. Don't Mess With Me.

Why do some jobs give people a certain air of arrogance? I accidentally ended up in The Cross for a little while last night, and between pretending to be a ventriloquist doll and being launched in the air by a male cheerleader (I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out, our behaviour was a tad rowdy), I noticed these tragic promoters taking 'happy snaps' of the patrons.


The moment was so forced, like hey guys please act like you're having the time of your life and we'll take a photo of it. They were rushing around like they were super important. Then again, holding a clip board and having an ear piece is the pinnacle of success these days. You know you've made it when you're pimped out with that kind of shit.


So, in homage to all you Door Bitches out there, here is my top 5 occupations that that turn people into wankers. Or maybe they're jobs wankers gravitate towards.

The Top 5 Wanker Jobs:


1. "Promoters"/ door bitches: aka wannabe models who have OD'ed on fake tan and prance about in pleather jumpsuits trying to channel Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, but ending up somewhere between a Bad Britney and Tara Reid. This isn't a real occupation.


2. Bartenders: Now, it's no secret I love a hot bartender. But be warned, those who work in this industry can easily catch a severe case of I'm-in-love-with-myself-itis. I don't know why there's so much arrogance when they're just pouring drinks to earn a living. Maybe it's all the incestuous activity that goes on behind the scenes.


3. Middle aged homeware ladies: I loathe North Shore/ Eastern suburbs Prude and Trude types who are so bored and decide to work in snooty gift shops to keep busy.


4. People who work in General Pants: Have you noticed that most people who work there LOVE themselves? I don't know what it is? I guess you have to be pretty rad to work in retail though, huh. I always walk out of that shop furious with how many times I've been called babez.


5. Butlers: At least they are being paid to be a wanker.


As a side note, don't you hate how happy the people are at Boost Juice? You're just making juice, there's no need to break into song and dance - chill out.


Thursday, June 10, 2010

Mummy's Girl

Want to know the best cure for stress? Bumping into your mummy twice in one day.

I've been a massive stress monkey this week. I feel like I have a million loose ends to tie up before I can hop on that plane, and time is running out. I have a to do list from here to Santorini.


While I was dashing to work this morning, who do I see across the road but my mamma! She gave me a great big bear hug and I instantly felt better. You're never too old to cuddle your mum.

And then in the afternoon, as I was crossing the street to go to the bank, who do I bump into? Yep, Mumbles. This time she took me up to he office and showed me her hood.

You can live and work in the same vacinity as heaps of people you know, yet never bump into them. Mum's worked near me for 6 weeks now and I've bumped into her about five times (that's not including our planned lunch dates in Hyde Park).


I swear mother's hugs have magic curing powers.


Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Let's Fall Back in Love With...

Punks, by I Heart Hiroshima.

I used adore this song. It reminds me of driving to uni with Roy. Not only did he give me hundreds of lifts, but he also introduced me to good music. Our trips to Club Mac were used as music enlightening sessions. Thanks Roybert.



I rediscovered it the other night while pinching tunes off a friend's hard drive.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

The Stylish Entrance

ME: I had the biggest stack last night in front of Inga and Braz. I was running up the drive way and slipped on wet leaves. It wasn't just a little stumble, it was an epic tumble. I'm talking legs in the air, ripped pants, bruised leg, type situation. The headlights of their car caught me in all my glory.

SHAN DOG: At least it was in front of good friends and not a guy picking you up for a hot date.

ME: True dat.

You Know You're Saving When...

  • The highlight of your weekend is coming across an E! True Hollywood story you haven't seen yet.
  • You swap hangovers for babysitting.
  • You pocket stray shrapnel lying around the house.
  • Weekends are spent blogging, instead of playing.
  • Harry's Practice is considered good TV, by weekend standards.

An (almost) Empty Nest

My big brother moved out today. He's off to be a Balmain Boy. It's really exciting for him, but now I am the last one left and it's just Papa Bear and I clunking around in this big old house. Being one of four, I like having someone to hang out with at home. If you know anyone that would make a good supplement sibling, let me know. They can live here rent free on the premise they are really fun.

PORK CHOP SANDWICHES

I forgot how funny G.I Joe was. It's been years since I watched these clips but last night, we huddled around the good old campfire, I mean YouTube, and laughed ourselves silly. Gotta love macho cartoons that have been dubbed over with homoerotic undertones.


It's very lowbrow indeed, but if you're after some good lolz then watch this. Just a warning, it makes absolutely no sense and probably best you only watch this if you have a skewered sense of humour. Straighty-one-eighty types needn't bother.

My personal faves are mi mi mi mi and who wants a body massage.


Brother Saves the Day

ME: Do you know I actually contemplated wearing sneakers with my work clothes this morning? I know it's a big no-no but my normal shoes would have gotten ruined if I walked to the station in this torrential rain...

BROTHER: I would have thought less of you.

ME: Me too.

BROTHER: And you would have to live with the fact you wore sneakers with work clothes for the rest of your life.

ME: I know, thank god you're driving me to the station. Thanks.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

I Just Need Some Sweet Beats

My iTunes has been sick for about 6 weeks and I haven't been able to update my iPod. All my music, which was once shiny and new, is now stale and off. I am beyond sick of every song on there and am getting quite worried as I have many hours of transit ahead of me and I love a good music + writing session to pass the time. What's a journey without a soundtrack? I need new beats for the European Bonanza a-sap!


My brother and I have spent countless weekends trying to fix bloody iTunes. We've changed computer bottoms, re-installed the program, fiddled with the settings, everything you can think of. But to no avail, not even Google can solve the mystery. It still won't connect to the iTunes store. It just refuses to work.


And before you say I should go out and buy CDs, I refuse. I am not a CD buyer. I buy songs, not albums. I am a product of the times. And I also have about $30 left on an iTunes voucher, which looks like I'll never be able to get back. Luckily Inga and Ju Ju have agreed to let me pinch some of their beats with my USB. Justin said, "Your ears will want to make love to you after you get a memory stick full of my dulcet tones," so I am quite exited to finally inject my iPod with some luuuurve!


Recently, I've been fantasising of all the things I'm going to buy when I am no longer in Extreme Savings Mode. Pretty clothes, mid day candy, new shoes, treats galore -whenever I like. Oh man, I am going to live a life of guilt free spending and I can't wait. I've also decided when I get back from Euro, I am going to rebel against my no album policy and go nutso with the CD purchasing. I even perused the record store today and made a wish list (it wasn't really a record store, I've just always wanted to say that).


Here is my CD wish list:
  • Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest
  • Cloud Control, Bliss Release
  • The Lucky Wonders, Thirteen O'clock
  • Foals, Total Life Forever
  • Tame Impala, Innerspeaker
  • Angus and Julia Stone, Down the Way
  • Paul Greene, Everywhere is Home
  • Vampire Weekend, Contra
PS. How much hotter is Angus Stone WITHOUT his stoner beard?And don't you think Julia Stone and Lisa Mitchell are long lost twins? They look identical and have the same eerie, ethereal voice.
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