The Broke Girl's Guide

The Broke Girl’s Guide to Staying Stylish on a Shoestring...

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 12:05:24 -0400

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...

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 09:33:44 -0400

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!

Another post about my new found love for all things Canadian....

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 10:30:21 -0400

Another post about my new found love for all things Canadian. (Because I know you’re not sick of hearing all about it)

I love Canada. Yes, I’ve said that already. I particularily love how they’re right next door to one of the most obnoxious countries ever, but have still been able to maintain an air of decency. Yes, that’s right ‘Merica, I made a stab at you (at least it wasn’t a gunshot- because where I’m from, we don’t solve all of our problems with gun violence.)

Anyway, instead of rambling on yet again, I’ll leave this pretty sweet tune to do that for me.

Kudo’s to my amazing Torontonian friend Kristine for showing me this one. ;)

oliphillips: Harm Less by Sonia Rentsch

Fri, 07 Jun 2013 10:30:47 -0400

oliphillips:

Harm Less

by Sonia Rentsch

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

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 20:35:15 -0400

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.

"JK Rowling created seven Horcruxes. She put a part of her soul in every book and now her books will..."

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 10:30:20 -0400

““JK Rowling created seven Horcruxes. She put a part of her soul in every book and now her books will live forever””

- -Stephen King (via howtedmethiswife)

On Halifax (Or The Ins and Outs of Coastal Living) Here’s...

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 10:30:33 -0400

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...

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 10:30:20 -0400

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.

lulz-time: an important nature guide. i hate it when possums...

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 10:15:39 -0400

lulz-time:

an important nature guide.

i hate it when possums stay on their cellphones. so rude.

A Penny for your Thoughts? (Or How to Awkwardly Explain Your...

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 10:30:15 -0400

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...

Sat, 01 Jun 2013 17:30:16 -0400

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...

Thu, 30 May 2013 20:33:00 -0400

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

Where to Go, When You Don’t Know Where to Go. (Or The...

Wed, 29 May 2013 17:30:13 -0400

Where to Go, When You Don’t Know Where to Go. (Or The Discontent of a Nomad)

It’s nearing on 9 months since I left Australia on my traveling adventure. I am nowhere near finished, but my enthusiasm is waning. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to keep exploring new places, and I am always looking up different adventures and options and ideas for my next big trip.

But traveling comes at a hefty price. It’s hard being a nomad. I constantly find myself getting, as I like to call it “Kettle-Envy”, whereby I become saddened by the fact that I have no real need for fancy furniture or pretty household accessories. I know I’ll be leaving in a few short months, moving onto somewhere new. No point in buying anything permanent. It’s the same with everything. I can’t grow attached to a local pub, or too fond of a particular cuisine, because if I do, it will make leaving all that harder.

After 9 months, I can still squish all of my belongings into two small suitcases. I don’t have a home, or a house that I can call my own, or a nook that will always belong to me, so only what I can carry is all that I can claim, really.

Another predicament I’ve found myself in is one of expectations vs. reality. See, truth be told, I am utterly in love with Canada. I love the awful winters, I love the people, I love the culture, I love the hockey mania, I love all of it. Why not just stay in Canada then? well- I love Australia too. I love the sweltering hot summers, the quirky wildlife, the amazing, modern, well structured benefits of being a citizen. It makes planning things a complete nightmare because I happen to want to live in two countries that couldn’t be further apart. There are no short trips from Canada to Aus (unless you count the fact that the timezones mean you actually gain a day on your way back) and I’m terrified that if I leave Canada, I’ll never make it back. Finances, reality, and the awful thought of that long-haul flight might make it an idea I’ll keep putting off.

On the otherhand, I know I can’t stay here for ever. I have friends and family that would be mutinous if I never returned home. I have debts that would never get paid. Degree’s that would never be finished.

It’s hard because once again I’m caught in a limbo. I guess I could rotate between the two countries, but where would life progress? I’ll be doomed to a life of singledom (who on earth would want to settle with a girl that’s halfway across the globe 6 months of the year?) I’d be caught in a never ending cycle of entry-level dead-end jobs, and I’d spend a goddam fortune on airfare. I can’t even extend my trips either- if I spend a year in Australia, life will develop there, relationships, bonds, and even a home. I wouldn’t want to leave. The same would happen with Canada (hasn’t it, already?)

ARGGGHHHH! I wish I could decide. I wish I could have both. But it’s time to think this through. Do I stay a nomad, or do I find a home?

Hostel Living Part 4: Goodbyes are never easy Where was I? yup,...

Tue, 28 May 2013 19:25:21 -0400

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.

Challenges (Or why we should start listening to all of the...

Sat, 25 May 2013 12:59:07 -0400

Challenges (Or why we should start listening to all of the motivation pictures we keep uploading)

Sorry for the temporary hiatus, I was away on vacay and currently have an amazing friend sleeping on my sofa, hailing all the way from the other side of the world. So things have been a bit haywire. Not to mention my awful laptop has gone on the blink again…

Until I get things all organised and have some free time, I thought I’d share this one quick entry. It’s something that has been on my mind quite a lot lately, and I feel the need to vent.

Okay, so you know how they say there are two kinds of people in this world, those that see the glass as half full, and those that see it as empty? well I like to say the glass is always half full- until I drink it, and then it’s completely empty.

The reason I am bringing up the saying is that I have to argue that people are far too negative these days- far too “glass half empty, woe is me”. Yes, life is sometimes a completely horrible bitch that spits on you when you’re down- but really, where does feeling sorry for yourself and basking in your misery get you?

I’ve been through a lot, a lot of horrible things in my life, but by the time you get to your 20s, who hasn’t? everyone goes through things they wish they didn’t have to. It’s what shapes your life- the experiences, good or awful, are what create your story, your personality: read - they’re what makes you who you are. And if you’re going to constantly focus on the things in life that aren’t great, you’re going to completely overshadow the things that are good. and as one of my closest friend always says “Don’t you dare, for one second, ever think there isn’t anything good in your life”.

I have noticed that it is becoming increasingly common for people to want to be miserable. It’s as if they get a kick out the pity stares and the negativity. This is an idea that makes less than no sense to me. Why on earth would anyone want to be miserable? To be frank, I think it’s attention seeking, and I’m over it. I can’t stand logging into facebook just to read countless ambiguous statuses about people’s most petty trifles, or to listen to people rant for hours on end about the smallest nuances. Life isn’t always going to go swimmingly. Do you know what you do when something bad happens? You get over it. You learn from it. You move on.

Now I know what you’re thinking, that I’m a mean person for being so blunt. I’m not, and I’m not saying everyone should walk around with a spring in their step either. I have nothing wrong with wanting to occasionally vent (clearly) or needing a shoulder to cry on- sometimes things can be too much to bare. What I have an issue with are those people out there that do nothing but whinge and whine and constantly focus on everything that’s bad.

Another problem I have with all of this negativity is how unwilling people are to change the things that are wrong with their lives. If you can make the conscious effort to better your life, believe it or not, but your life will actually get better. It’s really and truly that simple. Note, I said it’s simple- I didn’t say it would be easy. If you’re sad for being overweight, for instance, the only way you’re not going to be overweight is by putting the effort into maintaining a healthier lifestyle. If you’re bitter because you’re not enjoying your job- study or work your ass off to find a better job. If you don’t like the things people say about you, give them better things to say.

Simply put: life is too short to be surrounded be misery and negativity. There is enough of it in the world already. I’m done being supportive to people that refuse to change, or at least chin-up.

On Humour (Or how mine seems to fail me) If you’ve met me-...

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 17:30:13 -0400

On Humour (Or how mine seems to fail me)

If you’ve met me- you’ll know that I have a pretty strange, if not wicked, sense of humour. I laugh when I am uncomfortable. I tell morbidly embarrassing stories about myself as if I were proud of them. I enjoy the quirkiest and most obscure jokes. (Including jokes that involve puns, require basic intellect and aren’t remotely slapstick)

Another thing I do, and only recently realised- I judge people according to what they find funny. To me, there is nothing more off-putting than meeting a person that can’t laugh at themselves, or at lifes little nuances. If someone rambles on about their petty troubles, my solution is to make a joke of it and move on. Dwelling on it gets you nowhere. If you laugh about it, it makes it less awful.

The same can be said for my (abysmal) dating repertoire: if I meet a guy, it doesn’t matter how darned good looking he is, if he isn’t funny- it just aint happening. I joke, and I jest, and I fool around (sometimes even while we’re fooling around, if you catch my drift) and if a guy doesn’t do the same- it just won’t work.

Humour is what get’s me through the tough times. To me, there are two kinds of people in this world- the ones who cry when they spill milk, and the ones that turn it into a funny anecdote and shrug it off.

Lately though my humour has been falling flat. It’s been a while since I’ve met anyone that caught my sarcasm (seriously, you REALLY thought I enjoyed her 29 hour long drawl about her bad day at work?), knew my pop culture reference (Has nobody watched Monty Python?) or found my deliberately bad pun-jokes about beer even worth forcing a laugh at?

Here’s hoping I meet someone funny soon, or I’ll go all Sylvia Plath and put my head in the oven.

The Setbacks of Life on the Road (Or The Perks of Leaving) As...

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 17:30:26 -0400

The Setbacks of Life on the Road (Or The Perks of Leaving)

As you can tell, I am an avid traveler. It’s what get’s me out of bed in the morning. I like the idea of going somewhere new. I don’t even mind all of the admin and paper work that is involved in planning a trip. I like the unknown. There is an entire world out there, and I want to see as much of it as I can.

There are setbacks to travelling though. One of the worst is that it can sometimes get very lonely. Once you let go, and step out of your comfort zone- anything can happen. You have to put the effort in to meet new people. You can’t be introverted or shy- you have to fake confidence, or exude confidence. And even if you do all of the above, and make friends all over the world, you will eventually find yourself right back at square one: alone, somewhere unfamiliar, and without anyone nearby to turn to.

When this happens, you repeat the pattern, you make new friends and you share new memories. It is great, and I can’t stress how incredible it is to meet people that are also living day to day, out of a suitcase. But apart from that, there is a definite lack of intimacy when you’ve taken to living life on the road. I’ve been single for quite some time now, and I don’t always mind. I’ve had my fair share of holiday romances and hostel flings. The problem is that these are always short lived- how can I get attached to someone when I know I’ll be leaving? Even when I daydream about meeting someone that I really like, it always dawns on me that somewhere along the line I will have to inevitably break things off- and say another goodbye. It can be heartbreaking. You can’t stop yourself from doing it: even though logic is telling you it’s stupid to get attached- you will, and it just makes leaving that much harder. You’ll question your travel plans. You’ll catch yourself thinking “maybe, maybe I could just stay here, or move to his home town (if he’s also a passing traveler) the reality is- it’s not always worth it. My advice? Put yourself in that person’s shoes. Would they move for you? would they stay?

Another dreadful thing about traveling (and a far more tiresome one) is the ‘feedback’. I hail from a small town. In my small town it is normal to get married as soon as you finish school. It is normal to go straight to University, to graduate and settle into a 9-5 job. By not doing this, and by choosing to travel instead, I have become an outsider. My friends back home all say the same thing when I tell them about my adventures: “Oh, that’s great, but when are you done? Like- when are you coming home and settling down?” most people don’t see traveling the world as a feat to be proud of, they see it as a tragic waste of time. I don’t get congradulations, I get pity comments. People legitimately feel sorry for me because I am 24, single, and still working my way through life, one city at a time.

Here’s the thing: I’m NOT traveling because I can’t get a job, or because I can’t find a man, or because I’m a no-good-useless-lazy hippy. I’m traveling because I want to explore. I want to experience everything the world has to offer, from elephants in Thailand to Snow in Canada, to festivals in South America to camping in Europe. I don’t want to hit 45 and think “what have I done with my life?” Almost everyone in my family got married really young- and almost every single one had the same regret “I wish I’d done more while I still had the chance”. Travelling solo when I can decide where and when I want to go somewhere, is NOT the same as an annual trip to some overpriced resort with three kids in tow. Please stop judging me with pity, take a harder look at your own lives instead.

A Little bit of Nostalgia (or why I wish I could have gone to...

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 17:30:31 -0400

A Little bit of Nostalgia (or why I wish I could have gone to Woodstock)

At the moment one of my courses for University is the history of Pop Culture. It’s an interesting look at the cultural trends of the last half of the 20th Century, from the 50s Beatnicks to the 80s punk rockers. One of the things that has become obvious throughout the course is how each generation had something to fight for. In the 60s it was student protests against the war in Vietnam. In the 70s it was the Sexual Revolution and the fight for equal rights between women and men, gays and straights, interracial lovers, etc. In the 80s it was the voice of the working class that fueled angry punk songs, making their discontent heard.

What has be baffled is this: what are we fighting for now? There is so much wrong with the world these days. Oppressive governments, the culture of violence and rape, racial profiling, unequal distribution of wealth, global warming… etc. But how are we making our mark against it?

Gen Y and Gen Z have more access to media and immediate public outcry, more so than any generation before them- but instead of stage our own revolution, we turn massacres into memes, issues into petty online arguments and instead of getting out there and yelling, we stay indoors and share pictures of cats doing funny things. We have a platform to change the world on- and it’s definitely in our hands, but what are we really doing with it?

Take the 2012 Kony debacle as an example. No, I’m not against awareness campaigns. I mean, yeah, the Kony video that went viral did alert a lot of ignorant people to the fact that there is a country called Uganda, and that some 30 years ago he used child soldiers. But apart from millions of people sharing the video online, what actually happened? I cannot stress this enough: awareness is where it should start, NOT where it ends. I’m fed up with people giving themselves a pat on the back for sharing a photo of a starving cat in the name of “animal rights” or for writing a status about the trouble with child abuse and then… well, that’s it. nothing else. I don’t need to see gruesome images in my news feed to know what is going on. I don’t need anymore hearsay or “Like this if you care”.

Instead of reblogging a post, why not get off your lazy ass and feed those cats? fund an event online that supports shelters. Start a petition that raises the legal punishment for abuse. Stage a rally against oppressors. We have the media platform to make any one of those a huge success. But we retire after hitting “share” because we feel like we’ve done our part. We haven’t. everybody is making everyone aware. But being aware of something doesn’t stop it.

We have the very real ability to make a big change in the world. It’s high time we got off of our asses and did.

Hostel Living Part 3: Etiquette (Or how not to be that guest...

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 17:22:35 -0400

Hostel Living Part 3: Etiquette (Or how not to be that guest that everybody hates)

After living in a hostel for such a long time, I have seen many guests come and go. Truth is, no matter how lovely you are as a person, if you’re a pain in the arse to live with- that’s all you’re going to be remembered for. here is a foolproof list of things to keep in mind, so that you don’t become that guest that everybody hates:

1. flush the toilet. No need to go into detail here. it’s pretty obvious. You’re sharing a washroom with several other guests at any given time. It is never nice to find a nasty surprise.

2.If the food is in my basket, has my name on it, and you watched me put in there, it’s obviously mine. I can’t believe I even have to write this- but you’d be surprised as to how often other guests forget the most simple rule of living together- DON’T TOUCH WHAT ISN’T YOURS. yes, that’s right- you that stole my cupcakes- I’m looking at you.

3. If the food is not in a basket, isn’t totally labelled correctly and might or might not have been left behind- double check. A friend of mine got sent some cheese from Germany (yeah, how he got that across the border astounds me- anyway) it was pretty fancy cheese. One morning he decided to make himself a fancy omelette. he assembled all of the ingredients on the counter: 2 eggs, a tomato, the fancy cheese, some butter and an onion. He then figured he would download some stuff on his laptop while he cooked, so he nipped back to his room to grab his laptop. After returning, and setting up his laptop at a nearby table, he noticed that his beloved cheese and omelette ingredients were gone. He also noticed another guest happily munching on what looked a lot like what his omelette would have looked like- if the ill-fated ingredients hadn’t gone AWOL. When he asked about it, the guest just shrugged and said “I assumed they were freebies, so I cooked them”. Yeah- well that guy was forever known as the Fancy Cheese Fiend.

4. If you’re going to have “special” nighttime guests- make sure they’re discreet. There is really nothing more awkward than watching someone do the walk of shame and getting lost down the hall because a guest never told them how to exit. It’s also really bad if you’re going to have several of these because you WILL become the hostel slutbag and will be treated accordingly.

5. If you’re dorming- don’t assume everyone has the same sleep patterns you do. When I was staying in Banff one of the girls in my room thought it was perfectly okay to wake up at 6am every day, switch all of the lights on, have a shower in our en suite, and then blowdry her hair. It’s not okay. It’s never ever okay. TIP: if your roomies are in bed, with their eyes closed, it is safe to assume they are asleep- and it is safe to assume that they are not, and do not want to be woken up with blinding lights and noise first thing in the morning. use your common sense.

6. This is not your house. This is not your private washroom (unless you paid extra for a private washroom- in which case just ignore us poor folk who didn’t). As much pleasure as it gives me when a cute guy accidentally forgets that he is in public and does a nudey run back to his bedroom after having a shower, the same cannot be said for most of the guests at the hostel. It is not fun walking into a washroom to brush your teeth and finding a very naked (and sometimes overly hairy- seriously, Hippies, what do you have against shaving?) person standing in your way. It’s just all round awkward “Oh, um… sorry” and thoughts of “where do I stare to not make this worse than it already is?” and “Oh um, hey remember that time I saw you totally starkers and now I’ve found out we’re being forced to team up at trivia, and oh, this is your wife? that’s great”… yeah. towel up or go home.

on the whole, just think of it like this: if you wouldn’t want somebody doing it at your house, don’t do it here. If you don’t like certain things, keep in mind other people might not like things either. be respectful. It’s really not that hard.

It’s Fleet Week in Halifax (Or “Why you should never...

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 17:30:21 -0400

It’s Fleet Week in Halifax (Or “Why you should never date a Navy lad”)

What is it about men in uniform that still makes a lady go gaga? Don’t get me wrong. Throw an officer of law my way, or a fireman or a paramedic and chances are I’ll turn into a total blabbering mess. But why is it that the instant a guy tells us his uniformed profession, we succumb to immediate attraction?

In Halifax, there aren’t too many firemen or paramedics… but there are navy sailors just about everywhere. A few weeks ago a ship docked in our harbour, and we were bombarded with fresh new recruits that would be staying and training at the Halifax navy barracks. This meant that for that first week, every bar in Nova Scotia was bursting at the seams with sailors and search and rescue teams.

Now, I don’t know about you, but the Navy lads I’ve seen in old war films were charming gentlemen just looking for a good time on their week off. Pah! This could not be further from the truth.

A group of girls and I were at a bar downtown when some of these afformentioned Navy lads joined our table. At first, they seemed harmless enough. They shared stories about their adventures out at sea, what they thought about Halifax, and other banter. But as the night progressed, and the drinks multiplied, things turned sour. I hadn’t really been drinking (I know, a shocking event on its own!) and I watched as the lies began to unfold.

Unfortunately, I overheard one of the Navy boys say to another ” something something, why are you flirting with her?” to which the other replied “blah blah.. what happens in the navy, stays in the navy,” he winked, they fist bumped, and the conversation ended. The navy lads partied with us for most of the night, taking it in turn to flirt with myself and my friends. As the night drew to a close, some of my friends went off with some of the navy lads, and others exchanged numbers. I walked home drunk and alone (have you noticed how often this seems to happen, haha)

Anyway, the next day I heard about the hook-ups, and the secrets and the dirty details. All of these fella’s had proclaimed they were single. All of them had used the sleezy “I’m just looking for a good time while I’m not rescuing the world from whatever it is out at sea”. Unfortunately though, one of those drunk smug sonsofbitches had mistakenly blown their cover, by telling me about how two of the “single” guys were married. One had just had a son! Gross.

Moral of the story, ladies? While it might be fun fooling around with a navy boy when he’s in town, don’t date the guy, chances are he’s in another town now, pulling the same moves on another hopeless girl just swooning for a man in uniform.