Careful Wording

Our vocabularies are forced to breach the norm when we travel. We insist on describing every market we enter as bustling or perhaps thronged, we call a meal we don't really understand (or like) a delicacy or a bonne bouche and we come up with words like rustic and agrarian to avoid having to mention that we're in the middle of nowhere. Truly, it seems we are all wordsmiths. Sadly, having stretched our creative streaks further than we can usually manage, we tend to start repeating ourselves outrageously. And we get terribly snootish when this is pointed out to us.

The art of living dangerously (or How to be an idiot)

I met a guy once in Cambodia. Let's call him Liam. Liam was one of those lifetime backpackers- already in his late thirties, never settled down, never stopped travelling, a little bit pitiable but also rather funny and incredibly knowledgable. There are many Liam's in the world.

 

I met Liam in a bar, where he was convincing bunches of people to sponsor his drinking and making plans to get across to Laos the following morning in some guy's truck. His stories were the kind of stories I hoped to one day tell. The kind of improbable, hair-raising, smile inducing, incredible memories that all travellers are jealous of, including me. Or at least I was until I witnessed how he picked them up.

 

Liam left us quite late into the night and I expected that was to be the last I saw of him. He wandered nonchalantly back into the bar about twenty minutes later and we soon learnt there were about thirty locals waiting for him outside. It turns out that moments before this, Liam made a business transaction with them (i.e. he got himself some coke) and had sampled what he was given and decided it wasn't strong enough... and refused to pay. If you're ever reading this, Liam, this is why I didn't add you on facebook.

 

Long, slightly threatening story short: Liam was forced by the bartenders to go pay for his goods (a full $10 I believe... outrageous!) and then went on his merry way. Now, one day, he's going to tell that story to other folks and they're going to think it's amazing. But it's not. In fact, it's an easy way to end up getting curb stomped by twelve year old asian drug dealers. Never fun.

 

Now I'm aware that I'm supposed to say that the moral to Liam's story is "Don't Do Drugs, Kids" but instead I'm going to go with "Don't Be A Stupid Moron, You Moron". Have a blast, do stupid things, make an idiot of yourself... but try and live to tell the tale. Dumb luck runs out for everyone eventually.

How to demonstrate your stupidity in any language

Want to prove your own stupidity to foreigners, but don't know where to start? Why, it's simple! Just follow my easy to read list of tips below!


Speak really loudly... 

Dang foreigners could speak English, they're just not listening properly. I mean, I always understand words better when they're shouted at me by a guy who's so close I can taste his spittle.

Offer them money... 

See, if you wave shiny dollars in people's faces, they're much more likely to spontaneously learn English. After all, you're surely richer than everyone you encounter. I mean, you're white!

Speak only in cultural stereotypes... 

The most cringeworthy moment of The Amazing Race Aus was when one charming contestant ran around China saying “Shanghai ladee? You have clue for me?” in a confusingly inappropriate accent. Seriously. That's just ridiculous, anywhere.

Speak... really... slowly...

So the shouting thing didn't work, huh? No worries, just speak reeeeally slowly and accompany your words with hand gestures. Then they'll get it.

Throw in random words in spanish... no matter what country your in... 

Do you hablo English? No? Damn. Now how am I going to order my burrito?

Mime... 

This is one I'm actually guilty of, but in truth, sometimes it does work. Mostly, though, you end up looking ridiculous trying to mime “electricity” by jiggling on the spot. Then they call a doctor for you and you're left feeling more than a little foolish. 

Try and make English words sound more foreigny...

Where can I findo a vendo machino? Do yu haav any chocolato?

Speak only in douchy quotes...

The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it's taken place.

George Bernard Shaw said that one. :)

So help me I want a puppy

And I want one badly. I want to hug it and walk it and occasionally put kibble in its bowl whilst sobbing with guilt about what a terrible non-feeding pet owner I am. But I can't have one.

See, whilst the world is open for the traveller, the pet stores are closed. No one is going to let me have a puppy if I intend to ship off overseas on a regular basis. It's just not going to happen. And if I tried to lie to the puppy sellers, my mum would probably take it upon herself to get the dang dog taken away and have me fined for animal endangerment. She's a cruel, cruel lady, my mother. (love you!)

Now, some of you may think I'm limiting myself. After all, half the fun of keeping an animal is burdening other people with the task of looking after it [and that's a rule that applies to child ownership, too] but I already task my flatmate with the job of taking care of my one plant in my absence and that's nearly ended in disaster a number of times. Most of my friends and family live in rental properties and are probably too wussy to sneak my pets in under the noses of their landlords, and the others are all liable to fall in love with my dog-thing and would never return it to lil old neglectful me. Jerks.

I know, I know, if I reeeeally wanted one, I wouldn't be letting logistics stand in my way. But since pet ownership is also expensive, I have instead opted for the lazy and totally free way of owning pets which involves giving personality to old soft toys.

Stop judging me!

Dear Darling

This post is really just an excuse to display this awesome photo I took. Because frankly; it's adorable. But to give you some background (and bulk this out a bit), after all my running around, I had a week or so to skip through Sydney and visit the parts of my home town/city that I heart the most. It'd been ages since I'd been around Darlinghurst, and this pic was taken that day. For those actually in the area: Gelato Messina on Victoria Street is to die for and the bands at World Bar usually hit harder than Mike Tyson. (Who, by the way, has just released a reality show about his pet birds. Who wouldn't want to watch that!)

The Patriot Virus

The patriot virus exists in many forms around the world. There are soldiers, housewives, creepy extremists, sports fans, primary schoolers and everything in between. Most people have a least some pride in their country (even if it's just happiness that you have nice weather) but for some reason, travel brings this out in a whole new way.

You can have as many issues with your country as you want. You can hate the government, you can wish your hometown was more lively, in fact: you can get outraged over any cause you like. But as soon as you step off the plane and onto foreign soil; you come from the best dang country in the world! Your morals are not completely compromised, of course. You don't change your mind about any of your preexisting opinions, but once you meet someone from another nationality, Australia/Britain/America/France/Name-Your-Home-Country-Here immediately becomes paradise on earth. The best place in the world to live! You're thinking about travelling there? Oh, you definitely should, it has so much to offer visitors!

God help anyone who talks bad your homeland in your presence.

This strange travel bug presents its strongest strain in groups of three or more young men. With these sufferers, it moves on to cringeworthy and dangerous extremes. These youthful representatives embarrass their fellow countrymen with open and loud declarations of their country's greatness. They ridicule the country they're in and any other foreigners they encounter. “You're French? You're french! Guy's it's a frog!”

[Side note to the lads: this kind of behaviour is not going to help your attempts to “bang a local”]

At its worst (I know, I didn't think it could get worse either) the virus may even become lethal. The sufferers are prone to fights, both verbal and physical. Should they encounter another group of young, male sufferers from a different country? Maiming ensues.

This of course is something to be avoided at all costs, but in it's simplest form; the patriot virus can be quite helpful. Belief in the greatness of one's own country helps foster homesickness and will convince the wayward traveller of the need to eventually return home. You're welcome, Mum and Dad.

Shove it in their faces

I love the travel sceptics. I adore them. They're my inspiration. They would get the dedication in any book I wrote. They make me what I am today.

Why? Because I'm the kind of person who doesn't take well to disbelief. When I mention places I want to go to and get that funny reeeeally with the raised eyebrow in reply: well, that's what makes me go. One of the only reasons I can actually motivate myself to go anywhere is to prove wrong any doubters. Shut up, you. I'll totally go! Look, I'm finding tickets on my phone right now! So nerr!

The issue, of course, is that most of my friends are way too lovely. I've got no reason to go anywhere when you're all so supportive! I'm too lazy to motivate myself! So I've starting creating my own little travel sceptic. I keep him locked away in my head until I start to daydream about another trip. And then I bring him out to tell me I can't do it. Go on, buddy. How much do you want to bet me I can get there within a month?

The Home Front

I am pants-peeing excited to be going to Melbourne this week for a little local tourism. I get to trip through unfamiliar streets and visit new bars, take photos and dork out, make comments about my 'adventurous spirit' and ask strangers for directions... but I only have to sit on a plane for an hour and a half to get there. Lovely.

Being a traveller in a semi-familiar environment is really loads more fun than any other kind of travel. The risk level drops substantially, you pretty much know beforehand whether something's worth getting to, and you almost never get lost. And if you're as disorganised and vague as I am: this makes a nice change.

With this in mind, I'm making the trip down for a few days to blend with my southern neighbours. Plus, I get to have the darling boyfriend on my arm for the first time in almost two months. Tis making me quite smug, show off that I am.

Joy.

La Trobe Street, Melbourne

Public Transportation: The Real Enemy

This might just be because I'm home again and want to have a bit of a dig at cityrail, but isn't public transport just a little bit terrifying?

It's not just the smelly passengers, or the over representation of crazy f***ers, or the suspicious looking stains, or any of these side concerns. It's that trains and buses seem to be purposefully messing with us. The inexplicable delays? The sudden slowing right when you're moving between carriages? The button that magically stops working right when you're about to pass your stop? The buses that suddenly slide too close to the curb and nearly hit you in the face with a mirror [I swear this happens to me every other day]? I don't trust these beasts anymore! It's purposeful! There is no doubt in my mind about this one: I'm absolutely sure that public transport wants us all dead.

That slow building sense of mistrust we've all been developing since the first time we were allowed to ride the bus to school? We should be paying attention to that! Instead, we accept these little oddities as mere frustrations. They're expected by now! My theory: this is what they want. Eventually, we're going to start hearing about deaths on the bus. Suspicious vanishings between one train station and the next. And we'll start to accept that, too! As another frustration! Just the risks of public transport!

They'll take us out one by one, until the only folks left are those with their own cars. And that's when the humble automobile will turn on us, too. It's not robots who are going to take over humanity: it's cityrail. And all the others like it. 

You have been warned.

Architecture - South America

Well, hours in transit haven't allowed me much energy for writing. So here are some photos of buildings instead. Because hey, that's awesome.

Cordoba, Argentina

Montevideo, Uruguay

Montevideo, Uruguay

Buenos Aires, Argentina