Stairway to Hell

8am: I’m holding onto a vine, hanging from a mountain, covered in dirt, wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. The vine snaps and I slide through the mud. My boyfriend reflexively catches a strap on my grey Herschel backpack as I pass. This’ll be the second time he’s saved me. Or maybe … Continue reading Stairway to Hell

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A Shitty Thing to Write About

It was a bus shelter empanada that made me break that bathroom in Cartagena. Three hours before consuming it, I was in a seedy cantina with my new friend, Atlanta: an ex-army medic and survivor of the Fort Hood massacre. Atlanta’s PTSD had pushed him to the north east of Colombia where he volunteered at … Continue reading A Shitty Thing to Write About

Sharpening claws with a Swiss army knife

Switzerland was a girl that you simply couldn’t feel neutral about. Ha! See what I did there? Don’t get me wrong, she was quite friendly; but she was also a European princess, the only daughter of rich parents, who would frequently say offensive, ignorant and moderately hilarious things, then chastise you in a prim voice (“You have … Continue reading Sharpening claws with a Swiss army knife

Watch out where the huskies go…

A Colombian coke binge seemed like a good idea at the time. Don't judge that statement. I don’t actually do drugs in Australia, you know. She adds defensively. Don’t get me wrong: I have. On many occasions. The majority of my university years were spent in a purple haze. My memories of that time are … Continue reading Watch out where the huskies go…

The Panamanian Pirate Story: Guns, Guts and Bellies Full of Rum

It took Panama City 67 minutes to rob me. Yes. Rob. Again. I know, I know. It’s kind of sucky being known as ‘The girl who got robbed’ in hostels. I’m getting good at being mugged, though. Not a tear was shed and I could even crack bad jokes to fellow travellers later that evening. … Continue reading The Panamanian Pirate Story: Guns, Guts and Bellies Full of Rum

Happy New Year from Playa del Carmen

I don’t think I like Playa del Carmen. There. I feel better now. It’s not Mexico. Well, technically it is, and I’m probably sounding incredibly conceited and elitist right now, but Playa is a shiny tourist hub where the drinks are overpriced, the stores are designer branded, the locals speak American-accented English, and the food is … Continue reading Happy New Year from Playa del Carmen

Terror at 10,000 feet

I dropped my iPhone in the toilet. Yep, John West decided to go fishing for some brown trout. Seeing my brand new phone at the bottom of the loo didn’t bother me for two reasons- the first being that I’d dropped it on the way down, so it was only marinading in filthy Mexican toilet water instead … Continue reading Terror at 10,000 feet

Sufferin’ Succotash

As I write this, I’ve been in Puerto Escondido for nearly three weeks. This beautiful beach side town has made me it’s unintentional prisoner as I wait to receive a package from Australia. I underestimated Mexican postal services. I foolishly thought that an express post package that should arrive overseas in three business days would … Continue reading Sufferin’ Succotash

“Me talk pretty one day.”

In an oestrogen laden opening sentence I can sum up my Wednesday: I got my hair done. In Mexico, it's about $50 for a full head of blonde foils and a cut. For the men that don't speak 'vanity': that's cheap. Really cheap. I went to Spanish class afterward and tried to tell my teacher about … Continue reading “Me talk pretty one day.”

Voy a Surfear

I need to be honest with myself. The charade has to stop. Something happened today, and I simply can't lie to myself for one more moment. It doesn't matter who started it, who called who a cry-baby, it ends now. It's time to be an adult and admit one simple truth: I suck at surfing. … Continue reading Voy a Surfear