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

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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

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

“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

The Adventures of CC and John West

Day of the Dead Sunday night, I found myself in the middle of a Day of the Dead parade, hurriedly looking over my left shoulder, with a pink iPhone shoved in my underpants. Yes. In my undies. Down the front. It's a sentence that will stop anybody from borrowing my phone ever again. Unfortunately for … Continue reading The Adventures of CC and John West

CC & JC

Despite the fact that I never enter them at home, I find myself hanging out in churches a lot when I travel. Not because I seek answers, or peace- I just think they are pretty. And God's pad can be a good place to gather your thoughts, actually. If I could smoke and drink beer … Continue reading CC & JC

Part 1: Havana Sure Can Suck

Friday Morning I was on my way to the Hemingway Museum when I had a conversation with a Cuban woman who initially mistook me for an extraordinarily pale local. When she found out I was travelling alone, she asked: "Are you nuts?" I laughed. "The possibility has been raised." She grinned, high fived me, and … Continue reading Part 1: Havana Sure Can Suck