The 10.5 hour bus trip to Croatia left 45 minutes late and arrived 30 minutes early. I love the Balkans. Continue reading “Week 5 – Stone the Flamin’ Croats”
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Week 4 – Buggin’
Thessaloniki was our last stop in Greece, and on our last night we were graced with the age-old travelling tradition of bed bugs. Continue reading “Week 4 – Buggin’”
Week 3 – Hera, Harris & Riki
Rachel and I left Gem and Nate and headed back to Athens for a night before heading up north. Continue reading “Week 3 – Hera, Harris & Riki”
Week 1 – I Am Arriving
The best thing about being in Greece is I already have the shoulder hair to fit in. Continue reading “Week 1 – I Am Arriving”
You Would Have Been 30 This Year
You were 19 when you were taken from the world. I was 18 and you were 19 and now I am 29 and you would have been 30. You have been gone for so long. Continue reading “You Would Have Been 30 This Year”
White Night Workers
White Night is an all night art and culture festival that happens all over the world. This particular night, Melbourne was the host. Going to White Night is amazing and the art and installations you get to see are usually spectacular. Working at White Night can be an exercise in torture. An insane amount of people herded like cattle in and around the city, for the entire night. It doesn’t end. If while navigating that gauntlet of all-night wonderment you have at all spotted the workers and volunteers and wondered what they’re thinking, then this post is for you. Here is a conversation myself and a few of my workmates were having over the course of our 12 hour shifts for White Night. Next time you’re ambling about, lining up for your next amazing slice of culture, spare a thought for the people behind the Night. And remember – that is not a flyer dispensing machine, that is a human person. Don’t cut queues. Don’t be a dick. That lady is using that microphone for crowd control, you can not use it for a “shout out to Brunno” and she is not a “cunt” for denying you so. It will make no difference if you’re first in line or fifth, I promise. EVERYONE’S tired, you’re not special. Enjoy the night and remember that that dead look behind the eyes of the workers is there because no one gets paid enough to care about your problems.
Real Men Don’t Trim Their Monobrows
One’s monobrow is like a mole – you can either embrace it, try to cover it up or remove it. The only difference is moles have had their coming out, the monobrow however is still waiting for its Marilyn Monroe, its Cindy Crawford. Sure, it has its Frieda Kahlo, but she had a pretty rare sexy-spanish-artist card to play. Moles even have another name to differentiate them from the other excluded bodily oddities – all one needs do is spot your face with a marker and you have yourself a ‘beauty spot’. If one were to take an eyebrow liner and bridge the gap, I can’t see anyone scoring praise from society for having a ‘beauty smear’.
Actually, Harry 