The Broke Girl's Guide

The Broke Girl’s Guide to Staying Stylish on a Shoestring Budget (and avoiding wasting money on silly things)

So, if you’re an avid reader of my blog (is anyone?) you’re probably thinking that I’m some sort of nomad come airy fairy kind of gal that owns one pair of sneakers and a brightly coloured backpack. Well, you’re wrong. Just because I’ve dedicated the next few years of my life to traveling on a dime, doesn’t mean I don’t still have a taste for the finer things in life. How do I afford it? well- I don’t, really. I’m totally broke for the most part. BUT I do have some tricks up my sleeve that mean I’m not totally out of the fashionista/stylerama/groovy world of women everywhere. They’re all about embracing good old technology. Here are some websites I highly recommend:

1. I get my glossy magazine fix online. When I was living back at home, I would spend upwards of $50 a month buying all sorts of magazines. From Cosmo (for it’s raunchy advice) to Cleo (local fashion trends) to Frankie (which I love so much I dedicated a whole post to it, earlier in this blog). Of course, I can’t keep up this habit now that I’m living abroad. Firstly, it’s pricey, and secondly, where am I meant to put all of these magazines? Solution? I read them online- no, I don’t buy the e-version, instead I find the magazine’s affiliated website. They’re usually packed with just as many articles, as well as videos and interactive links, and the best part is I don’t have to subject myself to pages and pages of advertisements. My current favourite? Australian Cleo magazine. Great site to read first thing in the morning with a nice cuppa.

2. Pinterest. Pinterest is not only a FANTASTIC way to procrastinate, but it’s also chockas full of ideas and tips for DIY fashion trends and general cheap nifty recipes. I also like the fact that I can use it for inspiration when I need an idea for a night out or a new hairstyle (Note: I still haven’t mastered any of the french braid pins. They make it easier than it looks!)

3. Lookbook.nu Need to get runway fashion trends, street cred or just simply want to figure out how to wear the out-there-way-too-bright yellow jeans? this is the go-to site. I don’t always enjoy the selfies people upload, but for the most part it’s pretty simple to navigate and keep up to date with the latest.

see- you don’t have to spend a fortune to stay in style. ;)

How to Get the Most Out of Your Travel Insurance with Summer Experiences (Or how I signed up for the Mud Hero Marathon)

This summer I vowed to do as many outdoor activities as possible. I’ve always enjoyed the great outdoors, but usually it’s from a verandah or patio, with an ice cold brewski in my hand. I’m probably the least fit, least co-ordinated and least energetic person you will ever come across. That being said, I decided to challenge myself to do the activities I’ve always wanted to try. My list is still growing, but here are a few things I have signed up for, or made time for this summer:

1. Mud Hero- This is 6Km obstacle course/marathon, that consists of water slides, crawling through mud, sliding down fireman poles, and general hilarious fun. I’ve signed up with a few friends to form a team, and we’re getting ready for the 6th July marathon day!

2. The Nova Scotia Chowder Trail. Okay, alright you got me- this isn’t exactly outdoorsy- but it is still too awesome to pass up on. Basically, all of Nova Scotia’s cafes and dining venues promote their finest locally made seafood chowder. You get a map and a little chowder passport, and it gets stamped at every venue you try chowder at. Delish? Of course. I mean, who doesn’t love a good bowl of hearty chowder?

3. Surfing in Lawrence Town. This is something I laugh at myself for. Move from Australia, one of the surfing capitals of the world, and decide to take up lessons in Canada instead? well- I have to start somewhere. This summer I’ll be braving the chilly atlantic ocean, and the horrors of a tight fitting wetsuit to learn this new hobby. Odd’s are I’ll suck at it (I have the upper body strength of a weak old man- sometimes I struggle opening a window) but at least I might get a few “look at me, looking all cool with this surfboard” picture opportunities.

and the list doesn’t stop there. I’ve signed up for sea-kayaking, camping in the woods, sunrise jogging, etc.

Let’s see if I can get the most out of my summer, and my travel insurance!

(via veggie--head)

Why I secretly want to punch a hipster in the face.

Dear Hipsters,

I get it. You like some pretty fabbity fab things. I can see that. I also understand why you instagram pictures of your food, I mean, why wouldn’t you- it’s just such a pretty salad! But do you have to steal everything that is fun and good in this world and make it a part of your stupid, pretentious, stereotypical trend? Yes, that’s right, I called your hipster lifestyle a trend… are you reeling? you should be.

I’m fed up with just about everything your social group does, to be frank. I’m fed up with the way you boast your thrift-store finds, when we all know you paid quite a pretty penny to look the way you do. It’s rather annoying, because some of us DO shop at thrift stores, and DO love our kitsch little purchases, but we’re always being marred by your pathetic subculture (counter-culture, post-culture, pre-culture, whatever the FUCK you want to call it, really).

I’m fed up with the way you happen to love the same cute little vintage outfits I do. No no, don’t get me wrong. I’m not disheartened that I’m into the same trends (oooh, there’s that word again- is it stinging yet?) I’m more so annoyed at the fact that the polka-dot skirt I wear, or the beige brogues I bought make people mistake me for one of you wankers.

I’m fed up with the way you throw a fancy “yaaaa” at the end of everything you say, in some feeble attempt at sounding smarter. I’m fed up with the way you look down on people that haven’t heard of that way way way underground band, or seen that unreleased, once shown in some dingy cinema, irrelevant art film- OF COURSE I HAVEN’T SEEN IT, IF I HAD, IT WOULDN’T BE THAT UNDERGROUND/AVANT-GARDE, WOULD IT?

I’m fed up with the way you guys stole eco-friendly from us, with your stupid pastel-coloured bicycles and recycled hemp shopping bags. Who do you think you are? Turning a good life decision into some passing fad? Now I’m being judged for my vegan recipes, and my mason jar cocktails.

Yes, that’s right. We’re quite similiar, you hipsters and I. But do you know what the difference between us is? I don’t spend ours going over this trend (hoo ha ha) in excruciating detail to make sure I fit the hipster mould. I like the kitsch, I like the vintage, I like the earthy-airy-fairy things in life. BUT do you know what, you goodfornothing hipsters? I also like technology. and beer (NOT microbrewed, either) and I like commercial music (sometimes, god forbid, I even like sellouts.) and some stuff ordinary people like too. So, to put this bluntly: I am not one of you. In fact, I loathe the idea of you guys being a collective. You’re no better than the emo kids or those bloody awful scene kids that still mill about now and then with their big hair and awful selfies (luckily, they were mostly made obsolete when Myspace was obliterated.)

All I’m trying to say is, we know most of you are faking it. You’re predominantly from wealthy backgrounds, looking for some way to not be part of the rich spoilt society you reign from- probably too scared to really rebel and become punks, I think. But can you stop? You have the money to buy fancy things, so get out of our thrift stores. We know you can afford a fancy car, so stop with your stupid bikes. Just get over yourselves. You’re annoying. And you’re making it hard for the rest of us who do actually like those pretty things.

Just a thought, probably one you won’t listen to. But here’s some food thought- Hipsters pride themselves in not following the crowd, and reveling in the lesser known, cheaper, not selly-outy things, right? So if you’re all doing that, and turning all of those things into selly-outy, popular fad things, aren’t you… in essense, basically making a mockery of yourself? Oh well, if it makes you feel better, just know that we’re all here alongside you, mocking you as well.

Sincerely,

Not a hipster, just someone with good sense.

On Halifax (Or The Ins and Outs of Coastal Living)

Here’s the thing about coastal living. It is something you’re either born with, or something you’ll have to get used to. In the small town of Halifax, this still rings true.

Coastal folk are pretty set in their ways. We don’t care about state of the art anything. Want to build a big ugly freeway to lessen traffic? build it somewhere else. Want to open up some fancy shmancy expensive bar that promotes exclusivity and $20 cocktails? You’ll find your bar empty when the locals take preference to the daggy maritime themed drinking hole next door. We like our little city just the way it is. We don’t mind if we’re behind the times. We have the sea. what more could we ask for?

Coastal mentality can be annoying at times. The drivers are the absolute worst. I had a chuckle recently, when I accompanied two friends from Melbourne and Toronto on a sunday trip along the coast. See- coastal drivers are also slow drivers. They’re also painfully friendly. They’re also painfully unaware of city drivers and their expectations.

Another thing about coastal folk that can be quite bothersome is their complete disregard for time. Let me try and explain this for all of you city people. In a small town like this, it never takes more than 20-30 minutes to get ANYWHERE. In fact, most places are only a short stroll away or a very brief drive. When you finish work here at 5pm, it isn’t the 2 hour traffic jam you’re stuck in. People here have become quite accostomed to this, and they appreciate the fact that they’re never in a hurry to get anywhere or do anything. Why would they be? There is no ‘peak’ hour. There is no jam packed train. It’s “Oh See ya later, eh. I’m done for the day” followed by a short walk and then Bob’s your uncle, you’re home! The problem lies in the fact that people around here are a bit lax about deadlines or running late or anything of the sort. To them, it just simply doesn’t matter.

Speaking of things that don’t matter: my favourite thing about us coastal folk is that we really know how to relax. Life is just to pleasant, what with the sunny afternoons, the smell of salty sea air, and the beautiful scenery (and all of the second hand weed smoke wafting about from our population of surfers and hippies) We just can’t get as worked up about all of the petty things.

I have to admit I love the coastal life. It’s engrained in me. I may have enjoyed the bustling city streets of Melbourne, or the crazy nightlife of Montreal and Toronto, but all the while I missed this little quiet seaside nook.

Coastal living, represent. (or however they say these “gangster” things)

Why Working in a Hotel is Awful When You’re Single (Or “Excuse me, Room 12, would you mind keeping it down, your animal like sex noises are disturbing other guests”)

While I finish up my studies, I am working at a quaint little historic boutique hotel in downtown Halifax. Here’s what sucks big time about my job:

It’s the number one romantic hotspot in town. Know what that means? It means I am subjected to lovey-dovey public displays of affection, all the time. It means I have to talk a guy through his romantic proposal ideas (“yes, I’m sure she’ll love the roses you’re sending to the room”, “Oh, you’re putting the ring in the champagne glass, how…thoughtful”). It means I have to try not cringe when old couples check-in for their anniversary (“We’re here for our 10th anniversary. Nice night to get away from the kids and get some alone time, if ya know what I mean” *wink*) URGH! It means I have to pretend the hotel staff haven’t caught on to the fact that people are having affairs; or that we don’t mind watching girls do the walk of shame; or that the noise complaints about roudy guests having passionate bonking sessions doesn’t make us feel absolutely awkward.

I can’t help but feel a little “forever alone” at the end of some of my shifts. You have to wonder, “will I ever meet anyone that I’ll want to do all of this cringeworthy stuff with one day?”.

That being said, 99% of the time it still makes me want to barf. Romance, urgh.

A Penny for your Thoughts? (Or How to Awkwardly Explain Your Dire Financial Situation to Friends)

As I’ve been travelling, I have realised that finances are one of the most complicated issues a backpacker can come across. Everything, from the airfare to the places visited are all dependant on how many zeros are in the bank. Of course, travel can be done with nothing but a small amount of spare change. But there are limitations, and there are expenses that are incurred throughout the journey. As such, I am not financially rocking life like a rockerfella right now, in fact I’m quite the opposite. (Hence the aptly named blog I write…)

Anyway, when I was growing up, we weren’t always wealthy. My mum had me when she was 19, and she had to work several entry-level jobs just to put food on the table for us. My early childhood was far from lavish. We moved from home to home, barely getting by. Now, that being said, I want to make it clear that I still had a really good upbringing. My mum might not have been wealthy, and we may have had to move often, but I was never exposed to alcohol abuse, crime, violence or a broken home like a lot of other poor families are. That being said, times were tough, and I learnt to make the most with what we had. It wasn’t bright pink Barbie houses or TV games for me, it was library books, the outdoors and my humble imagination.

Through the years though, things did get better. My mum worked her but off and climbed in her career. She married when I was 12, and we went from renting tiny flats to buying enormous houses in fancy suburbs. In South Africa, we were considered quite wealthy, upper-middle class. I went from my cruddy public school to a posh private Catholic high school, and we lived comfortably. My mum never spoilt me, or my sisters, however. She wanted us to learn that wealth comes from hard work and patience, and as such we did chores to earn pocket money, and so forth. It was still hard, taking the mindset I had grown up with, and comparing it to the friends I made at school. Here they were rewarded with new BMWs for getting a good grade, or a designer purse or a summer vacation abroad.

After High School, and after we moved to Australia, and I later moved to Canada, the wealth my friends seemed to spawn from got more and more outrageous. I found myself having a tough time relating to people I met. Don’t get me wrong, most of my wealthy friends are really wonderful people. It’s just that they never quite fathomed what it was like not to have everything whenever they wanted it. I couldn’t explain that my job was important, and that I can’t just skip work or take the day off, just because they could. I can’t spend my rent money on wine and cheeses and fancy parties, because, unlike many of them, my apartment wasn’t owned by some wealthy relative, it was owned by a landlord that would simply have me evicted. They never really grasped just how broke I sometimes was. I’d hear them talk about their most recent visit to Paris, or the “bargain” they got on their new Loubotin heels. I had to force myself not to laugh: here I am doing a victory dance when I find a tin of campbells soup on sale at the grocery store. I buy my cosmetics at the dollarama. The last time I ate at a fancy restaurant I ordered the FREE breadrolls and a glass of wine. I love my lifestyle, don’t get me wrong. I just sometimes feel like my rich friends and I are from two very very different worlds.

In all honesty, I think my biggest issue is giving credit where it is due. Traveling with money is not all lah dee dah. Yes, having a few extra zeros on the bank balance would take a lot of stress out of it, but I wouldn’t want to be wealthy and ignorant of just how lucky I am. Rich people spend weekends at the spa, lying on the beach and ordering room service in four star hotels. But as great as that sounds, think of it this way: no matter where you go, a fancy hotel is just another fancy hotel. A golf course is carved out to look just like the rest of them, and once you’ve tanned on one tropical beach, you’ve pretty much tanned on them all. If I had the money some of my friends have, I’d be exploring every nook and cranny of every remote part of the world. I’d spend my millions on volunteer programs in fiji, mountain climbing (ha, okay, maybe not something I’m physically incapable of), exploring, sailing, whatever. And that’s the thing: I’ve seen myself, along with a lot of other broke-ass travelers do exactly that. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s far more impressive being able to say you saw the world on your own dime.

Another trip to Toronto (Or Hockey Night in Canada)

I went on a short little weekend trip to Toronto recently, and caught up with one of my closest friends, who had flown in from NYC. I’d been to Toronto before, and it was a hoot, and this time was no different. We spent most of our weekend partaking in hockey fever: it was the playoffs, and The Toronto Maple Leafs were actually doing their city proud. Now I have to emphasise that I am NOT a Leafs’ fan. However, I will give their fans credit. They’re diehard. We braved the rain at Maple Leaf Square, along with hundreds of others, in their blue and white Jerseys, desperate to watch the game on the giant  MLSQ screen.

Aside from Hockey, we did a bit of exploring. We spent our Saturday night partying at a great Irish Pub called Grace O’ Malleys. We made the mistake of playing “Drink whenever you see a Canadian guy in a flannel or plaid shirt”; we danced; and we partied. I did learn something valuable though- Toronto girls are shallow and cold for the most part, and Toronto guys are tall and far too handsome for their own good. (Sorry, that might be generalising, but hey, I say em as I see em)

Another thing I learnt was that you really can’t know how things are going to pan out on vacation. For one,  I expected to catch up with a few people I’d met on my travels while I was in town, but never did. It’s disheartening when you think you’re going to get the chance to reminisc, but don’t. That being said, I did actually manage to see a few familiar faces,  and meet new ones too, and that was great.  For another, I expected the hostel to be a blast: it’s facebook page and trip advisor reviews suggested so. Imagine my disappointment when we reached the common room only to be greated by people with their faces glued to laptops, earphones in. They were about as social as people being forced to work the Russian Salt Mines.

That being said, Toronto was fun. The hockey was a blast, the pubs were lively, and discovering that street hot dog vendors have veggie-dogs for $2 at 2 am all contributed to a great weekend. Another hilarious thing happened, too. We were awkwardly walking downtown, our Canadian Hockey Hall of Fame souvineers in tow, when we became extra’s in a european film being shot on the corner of two streets. If you’re ever watching a european film and a scene comes up with a man yelling “Hurry, don’t be late” to another man running  down the road, be sure to look out for us!

By Monday morning, we were waving goodbye, boarding our greyhound bus and headed for Montreal with a short stop in Ottawa.

Oh, if you’d like to know about Ottawa, here is my entire review: “It’s the Canberra of Canada. A flat plain of Suburbia that has the NHL team I loathe and nothing more.”

What They Don’t Teach You in School (Or How I use the Theorum of Pythagorus in everyday life)

A while ago I reblogged a short post someone had written about how they never learnt any important “life skills” at school. The thought keeps coming back to me, and I find myself constantly encountering new challenges, even now, in my mid-twenties. (Did I just say mid-twenties? Oh Goodness, I’m getting old!) Things that everyone just seem to know about. I can’t help but feel like I missed out on something. When I was in school, we never had any kind of class that even remotely prepared us for real life. Being a Catholic Convent, our “life skills” class focused mostly on how to “love thy neighbour” etc. If I had my way, here are some classes I wish they taught in school:

1. Tax101. Ever done a tax return? or had to apply for your SIN number or TFN or whatever they call it in your country? It’s not really that hard- but time and time again I meet people who are actually willing to pay a fortune to have their tax done by an agency! WHY? The form you fill out COMES WITH AN INSTRUCTION SHEET! I guess it’s because we’ve been brought up to be fearful of the tax man. People are terrified that if they fill out their return incorrectly they’ll be arrested for fraud, or tax evasion or whatever it is. I wish that in high school they had a Tax 101 class, it would really make people less afraid, or at least more aware of where their hard earned money is actually going.

2. Transportation: Navigating the Metro Rail Driving, car registration, fixing a flat tire, car insurance, basic road etiquette- all important for those of us who drive. And for those that don’t- public transport classes- how to commute, train etiquette, buying travel fare, how to speak “conductor”, etc. They could even have a special class on air travel and the ins and outs of airport security, luggage claims etc. ALL extremely useful- ALL completely ignored by the school syllabis.

3.Mixology for Beginners Now of course I don’t expect High School to teach pupils how to drink copious amounts of alcohol without getting sick, but maybe a few lessons on the basic drinking know-how. For instance, I wish someone had told me that it’s a bad idea to mix spirits. Or that red wine will leave me with the most brutal of hangovers. A basic class on how to drink with class (one day) would be oh so helpful, and could have prevented so many awkward moments!

4. Business: Climbing the Corporate Ladder in a Cut-Throat Office You know how they teach you the very basics of writing a resume, and how to dress for an interview? why not take that class further: teach about the ins and outs of office gossip; surviving your first staff party; how to claw your way to the top, without feeling remorse for those you saboutage; the importance of reading contracts; how to tell if you’re being scammed/underpaid/treated unfairly in the workplace.

There are so many more things, too. Like basic cooking; what to do in the event of an apocalypse; how to make a basic fire; how to make your last $10 go the extra mile at the grocery store; why it’s never a good idea to date long-distance. But NO, they taught us the Theorum of Pythagoras, and the History of Shakespeare, and sent us on our way. Makes no sense. sigh

Hostel Living Part 4: Goodbyes are never easy

Where was I? yup, it was nearing the end of March, and it was finally time to say goodbye to the hostel I had made my home for the better part of five months. While I must admit it was a sad day, saying goodbye to my crooked little room on the third floor, I was excited to move into my own place (well- sort of, it’s a sublet) and to finally have a long, hot bubble bath without anyone interrupting me or whatnot.

Living in a hostel has been one of the strangest experiences I’ve had. It has its ups (Parties, great place to meet people, never a quiet moment or a dull day, etc.) but it also has its downs. One of the biggest, and hardest things I had to deal with when living in a hostel was constantly having to bode farewell to new friends I had made.

See, when you live in hostel, there is that strong sense of temporary ignorance, where, if only for the most fleeting of moments, you can easily forget that you’re a traveller, and that the people you have met are too. You begin to treat them as lifelong friends, housemates that you know all too well. They’re the ones eager to explore the new city with you, discuss cultural differences with you, and go halvsies on that bottle of wine. The bonds you can make over a matter of a few short days feel like they’re unbreakable: and then you’re reminded that it is only temporary, and soon enough you’re waving goodbye to your new friend, as they run for the airport shuttle bus, or drive off on their next adventure…

Some of the friends I made during my stay have disapeared without so much as an email. Sadly, all they are now are distant memories of a few fun moments lost in the past. Other’s have made the effort to stay in touch, and will no doubt be people I will see again, somewhere else in the world, or maybe even in this small town.

One thing is for sure though, it gets quite tiresome, this travelling gig. I’m starting to hate the goodbyes.