Fashion Faux Pas committed overseas

One of the amazing things about travelling is that knowing that you don't have to see anyone you meet ever again, you are free to be a bit more daring, or even shameless. This can include anything from being a drunken idiot, ranting on about anything and everything or even looking like a total tool. Whatever you do whilst travelling has no consequences, and so it provides a unique opportunity to let your freak flag fly. While I am always one to seize the opportunity to freak it up, my travel fashion choices are certainly something that should NEVER be repeated in the real world, especially in a world where it is necessary to pretend to be normal. Also, being the exotic and exciting foreigner, my whiteness (or in the US, my accent) made such fashion disasters less of an issue. In Australia, attempting to enter a club or a nice bar in anything less than a fanny skimmer and some fancy shoes is simply unthinkable, however whilst overseas I went clubbing in crocs, thongs, t-shirts (with yellow pit stains even!) and hippie pants. While I don't regret any of my clothing decisions from the past year, traveller fashion does not have a place in the real world.

Hippie Pants

These fashion shockers are also known as MC Hammer pants, poo catchers or harem pants, all of which are synonymous for ugly and unflattering. That's right, no matter if you are Miranda Kerr or Susan Boyle, hippie pants are the most unflattering style in the world and they are essentially the antithesis of fashion. Favoured by hippies, wannabe hippies and unemployed people, these pants do not belong in civilised society amongst people who don't want to look like an idiot. In their defense however, hippie pants are oh so comfortable. So comfortable even, that I still stash a few pairs in the bottom of my closet for the next time I venture to a place where looking like an idiot is not an issue.

I guess there's a spectrum of hippie pants, with some being at least a bit presentable, and others looking absolutely awful. I think I still have a few pairs, although they are developing holes and I am just letting them die peacefully without feeling the need to replace them.

The bear jacket

On a freezing cold night out in the middle of the Nevada desert in Black Rock City, while I shivered away, a friendly and lovely man gave me a large, fake fur jacket and told me it was a gift. I was thrilled. For many more cold nights, both at Burning Man and back in Cholula and especially in Chihuahua, this enormous, bear-like jacket was the toastiest and most comfortable saviour from the cold that I ever could have dreamed of. It was, however, not the most fashionable garment in my closet. Far from it. While enormous fur jackets are supposedly all the rage amongst fashionistas in Europe right now (a few months ago), this is a classic case demonstrating that the big fashion houses don't always get it right. Of course, it was probably intended that such a jacket would be rocked by a 6 foot 4 model with a long neck and even longer, fleshless legs rather than a short, stumpy legged me with a rugby-player-like neck; however even at its best, the bear jacket is probably one fashion trend to forget.

I really miss that jacket. Granted it wasn't super flattering on me in particular, I just really like it. I hope I can find another one next time I am somewhere cold.

White trash, fur lined jacket

Desperation and the cold does funny things to people (see above). When I found myself in Antigua, Guatemala and the sun began to dip, a frantic search through the markets ensued and finally a jacket was found. Unfortunately, the markets of Guatemala are not reknowned for high fashion (unless it's high fashion from the ghetto of the 90s) and I wasn't exactly blown away by the selection. However, time was ticking and as the temperature dropped, that hood and fur lining started to look very tempting. Oh! and in how many ways did that jacket fail as a fashion item! Let's start with the fact that it was white. White anything is always a bad idea for anyone except and OCD clean freak; even more so as an outer garmet, doomed to be the first contact with the dirt from chicken buses, nightclubs and the real world. Combined with the cream coloured fur lining, the cropped length and quilted exterior, you have one real shocker of an outfit.

And finally... everyone's favourite. CROCS


These fabulous shoes are the world's most comfortable, practical and, err... UNFASHIONABLE footwear around. That doesn't stop me however, from rocking these babies when I slob around the house, travel, hike mountains, walk down the street, go to class and head out to the bar. And unlike the other fashion uh-ohs above, crocs were a fashion staple before Mexico and they still would be were it not for the fact that due to my walking style and complete overuse, both previous pairs of crocs have sprung holes (curiously in the exact same spot on only one foot) and are unwearable. So although these are truly the biggest fashion faux pas that can possibly be committed, I still hunt on ebay for my idea crocs and dream of the day when I can once again slip those puppies on my dirty, retarded feet.

Overall I would say that it's not all so bad. Generally though, I have found that looking like an unwashed hippie in Crocs probably isn't the best look when travelling. Sure, it's comfortable gear that dries quickly and is practical, but it really does make you stand out like a sore thumb. 

I think it's just good to pack normal clothes that you would wear day to day when travelling. That way there is likely to be something nice in the case that there's something special on to look good for, and it doesn't look stupid.

Oh how I love you UQ

Welcome home to Brisbane! Welcome back to UQ! After 15 months out of the country and even more time having not set foot on the university campus, returning has been quite a change in scenery. Not only is Brisbane intolerably hot, riverbanks look different, accents sound funny and bogan-like and people seem more stylish and attractive than I remember them - though perhaps only relative to the feral looking travellers and tight, tacky, polyester blend tops that latin americans seem to love. Of course, the best people watching (and eavesdropping) location is always the university campus, where Queensland's best and brightest young minds  (oh dear god!) congregate, in order to study, avoid having to find a real job for a few years and for some - find a husband. And what better day to observe so many fascinating young people than on Market Day - where various clubs bribe students to drop their hard earned dough in return for club membership and candy. Every interest is catered for, with clubs representing gamers, sporty people, engineering students and even Omani students, market day is for everyone. Being amongst such people, it did not take long for me to wish that I were overseas once again, amongst inspiring, interesting and diverse travellers. The particular uni types that really make me lose faith in tomorrow's leaders are those such as:

• College Students: Who then, are the students who fork out $300 a week to live on campus with every whim accommodated to? Those lacking common sense, confidence to live out of home, people with rich and generous parents, people from Townsville (shudder), people who need the forced social life in order to make friends and those who longed to have a 'Uni experience' like the ones that are shoved down our throat by Hollywood. Dressed up, whooping loudly and providing an annoying presence on campus, there is just nothing to like about big groups of enthusiastic 17 year olds.
• Boys that wear stupid hotpants around campus. 2 years ago these boardies that cut off above the knees were all the rage, and it seems that no matter how ridiculous it looks, they are still sported by too many guys. Extra points for the ones who shave their legs.
• And the girls aren't exactly deserving of any fashion prizes either. With shorts that fail to cover the entire ass-cheek and caked on foundation, the university campus looks like more of a hooker hangout than a respectable academic institution. If some girls paid as much attention to changing the world as they did to getting laid and trying to look as much like a street-walker as possible, there is no limit to what could be achieved.
• Queue-ers: Market day is reknowned for freebies, as clubs, associations and businesses try to bribe students for as much money, membership and email addresses as possible. From flyers to candy and frisbees and slushies, bribery is an effective motivation to do anything and students in particular are an easy target for such marketing. One has to wonder however, if waiting hours in queues all day amongst the sweaty masses in the sun is worth the free slurpee or cupcake that is up for offer. The idea that anybody could be interested in a particular offer, club or product without a free pen is simply unthinkable! The ignorant masses need to be bought with the biggest goodie bag rather than any substance that may be on offer.
• Perky people: There is happy and then there is creepy. Student representative who spend an entire day smiling, patiently answering really stupid questions and selling selling selling are something special in themselves. Personally it scares me a little. After all, people can only be so enthusiastic and perky for so long before they snap and kill somebody.

When I was president of LASA I became one of these people. Once upon a time I thought people were mad to spend all day at a stall, and then of course the time spent decorating, carrying boxes of shit back and forth, but it's not so bad...

Actually, it kind of is. But it's for a good cause, and it's nice to believe in what you're doing. Sometimes the perkiness comes naturally.

• Dubstep DJs
• Photographers
• Ultimate frisbee players

Yes, they still suck. Ultimate frisbee isn't even a real sport!!! What a wank! Seriously! And playing frisbee to the tunes of dubstep played by a "DJ" while amateurs with SLRs take photos has got to be about the most stupid thing in the world. I stand by this 10000%

Amongst all of the shallow turds that seem to roam the campus, I remain optimistic. From a university of 40,000 students, the odds of finding fun, interesting and inspiring people are hopeful. Bring on the semester!

So this did happen. In 2012 I got more involved with things happening at uni. I joined clubs, helped out with things, made more friends, and eventually I ended up finding amazing people that I loved. I really enjoyed spending time on campus. Sure, there were still those basics that pissed me off, but I came to love it, stop being cynical, and now I miss everything about it.

It just proves that if you get involved in uni then it will be a great time. I regret my cynicism!!

The Island of Corn - and not a cob in sight

When you're travelling for only 2 or 3 months, spending 2 and a half weeks in the one location is not usually as high on the priority list as getting around and seeing lots of new places. Less so even, when the place happens to be an island, more than 6 hours from the mainland that is roughly the size of Brisbane's CBD, minus the fantastic shopping and funky bars (ha!). However, after tiring of seeing the same kind of thing in the same kind of places (let's be honest, a waterfall is always just a waterfall, and colonial cities and pretty bodies of water are hardly unique to anywhere in the world), it was time to take a break from travelling and spread my backpack across the floor for more than a few days.

Don't let the size and remoteness fool you however, Little Corn Island is full of many fun activities to partake in such as diving, walking around, talking to people, eating... Hang on now, this is starting to sound a little like San Pedro la Laguna in Guatemala isn't it? (well my experience there anyway, some keen beans were hiking volcanoes and studying spanish every day). For my first week on the island I was diving every day, doing my course and being active and adventurous. But then, after the money tree grew sparser and my ears and brain began flooding with water laziness struck. Daily routines had turned into reading in the hammock, drinking coffee at either Tranquilo, Casa Iguana or the Italian place and being peer pressured (lol) into accepting a puff (or 10) of the many many joints that were being passed around the table.

Another contributing factor to staying so long was the fantastic group of people I found. By default (and luck) I found myself in a hostel where all of the solo, interesting and long term travellers were hanging out. Of course by long term I mean 1-2 + weeks, after all it still is only a small island with little to do. But the fascinating thing was that most of the travellers around were experienced and cool travellers, many of whom were travel fatigued (like me) and wanted a holiday from their holiday. Oh the self indulgence of travelling. Amongst that group that spent every day together there were compulsive tanners, who lathered themselves up in oil daily for long sun sessions, while it seems that, despite being sunny almost every day I was there, that I left the island much whiter than I did when I arrived. There were divers, drinkers, white lobster enthusiasts, stoners (there were a LOT of those) and a blogger even more narcissistic than myself! Every few days the odd travelling family passed through, and although travelling can only be good for a child's personal development, being exposed to a bunch of lobster-red adults cursing and passing around a blunt is something that 9 year olds don't need to see (although I won't criticise their parenting skills... what? oops!). Little Corn Island (not unlike all of the Caribbean) has it's sex tourists as well, although foreign women seem to be the most enthusiastic when it comes to getting in on with a strapping black man. Of course these men know it too and will latch on in a latino-caribbean way (which is the worst kind of way) to any girl that might say hello. There was even one girl (with a beard! LOL!) who managed to sink her claws into some fresh meat, fell in love (double lol) and is planning to stay on the island for a few months to do her Divemaster course (suuure...). But the most fascinating of all of the creatures that passed through the island was the mentally derranged Texan. There was no denying that old mate exuded a vibe so creepy that the entire hostel was ill at ease with his presence (even the 7ft tall, 150kg owner Randy), but his ranting, foul mood and apparent lack of social skills had him pegged as a potential slasher. Eventually after much bitching, the consensus (even amongst the owners) was to kick him out and hopefully never see him again.

In between beach and coffee sessions, the nightly smoke up and amazing reading sessions thanks to a well stocked lending library on the island, the locals provided much amusement, with their broken-I-don't-know-if-I-could-even-call-it-that english and reggae music so terrible that it could have only come from the Nicaraguan Caribbean. So after 2.5 weeks of wonderful new friends, not a single sunburn and utter self indulgence, 2 days of travelling and a couple of hours in LA's most white trash hostel (hey! it was the closest to the airport), it has come time for shopping, Hollywood and Long Beach before returning to my humble abode in Brisbane. Err, except that I don't actually have any kind of abode in Brisbane... oh shit.