Travel Envy...

The fact that the most exciting thing in my life right now is being able to have the luxury to flick between Triple J and FBI while I'm driving in the car (I have an ancient stereo in my room that doesn't have presets and takes a hundred years to swap between stations) really screams LOSER DO SOMETHING EXCITING WITH YOURSELF!

It seems everywhere I look (ok, not everywhere just Facebook) I am being accosted with images of people having The Times of Their Lives as they frolic in the European sunshine. I know this isn't helped with the current Post Break-Up Syndrome (a general distaste towards pretty much everything) I have contracted or the fact that Heartbreak Scorsese* (that is what we shall be referring to him as from now on) is currently on a spontaneous trip to an exotic, seaside, European country that will no doubt be polluted with millions of large breasted, nude women. So please understand that my bitterness is at an all time high and I need to vent. I think I should change my diagnosis from "no-one-in-the-world-is-allowed-to-be-happy-while-i-wallow-syndrome" to "how-dare-anyone-have-any-kind-of-fun-especially-overseas-while-I-wallow-syndrome." Jess you are exempt from my scorn, I hope you're having a ball. See, I'm not that bitter.

I really should shut my whinge hole and be getting excited that it's only FOUR SLEEPS TILL BYRON and thus FIVE SLEEPS TILL SPLENDOUR IN THE GRASS. I am planning to dance my Cons to oblivion! If one thing all these beautiful Facebook photos of friends travelling has taught me is that I think my next, non-existent trip will most definitely have to be in a hot climate. Nothing is easier than packing cute bikinis and summer frocks and it’s always a bonus to come home with a fresh, sun kissed face and a new set of freckles for the collection – hello melanoma!

Unfortunately there is no instant cure for Travel Envy. Maybe I should just gauge my eyes out and stop torturing myself by browsing through others' happy snaps. Or maybe, just maybe I should jump on a plane and have my very own adventure at an exotic, seaside, European location and cavort about with gorgeous, muscley, yet strangely similar looking to Scott Dooley type foreigners.

*Snob Scrilla – Heartbreak Scorsese: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtnMoAyaHTE

( Photo: BFF's Dools and Bella share a cuddle)

Daily Drool...

I find this photo absolutely stunning. It's one of those fluke shots that look like a post card for which I can take no credit for, it is simply the spectacular surroundings making love to the lens. It was taken roughly last October standing on the Charles Bridge in Prague. It is such a silent, still moment. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for the hoards of human traffic you have to battle through on the Charles Bridge. It is so hard to even get a picture of yourself without accidentally being in someone else's so I resorted to taking photos looking out from the bridge and this is the result. I love it so much that it lives in a frame in my room.

- BELLA

The Two Sisters Try and Meet The Three Sisters.

When I think of the Blue Mountains spewy, romantic weekends away usually spring to mind. Suffocating couples everywhere you look, lovey dovey weekend retreats. Can you tell I am a tad bitter? Yes, I call this state ‘post-break-up-no-one-in-the-world-is-allowed-to-be-happy-while-i-wallow-syndrome’. A bit of a mouthful so maybe we’ll just stick to broken hearted.

So it was a calculated risk doing a day trip to the Blue Mountains, worried all the love and starry-eyed couples may cause me to combust with rage. Luckily I had my sister by my side and off we headed with our packed chicken sambos and bananas (currently pinching pennies for impending trips to the Hunter and Byron) to see if I could potter around the Blue Mountains without getting an aching heart.

The all important first stop was in the main drag of Katoomba at the Paragon. The Paragon is an old school, saloon style restaurant. You can snuggle up with an overpriced hot chocolate, $6 to be precise, in the coffee coloured oak booths as you gaze at the faded, autographed photos of Aussie ‘celebrities’ from yesteryear. We did succumb and fork out $4 for a latte, nothing special but it’s nice to cuddle up to a warm drink and absorb the atmosphere of the place. Now, you cannot go to the Paragon without trying their hand made chocolates. It’s hard to ignore the huge glass window displaying all the treats. I always opt for the hazelnut shells. Two of these bad boys will set you back another $4 but they are something special and well worth splurging on.

We then swung by the Carrington Hotel for a sneaky sticky beak. This would be an ideal place to have the quintessential Blue Mountains tea and scones but I was still recovering from scoffing down two huge chocolates in the space of one minute. The Carrington reminds me of a grand, old federation palace. It’s like stepping back in time. There are elaborate chandeliers, a ballroom, a billiard room and large, open fires around every corner. It’s the kind of place you want to whisk your Grandmother away to as you know she’ll be in heaven.

After squeezing Katoomba for all it was worth it was time to move on to the next destination - Mount White aka The Pink Town. The name is self explanatory as literally every building is painted a cute shade of baby pink. By this stage I was more than ready to tackle some jam and scones. We found a cosy little café (yes, it was pink!) and parked ourselves next to the open fire. The reading material was quite dire but I managed to find an interesting feature in Notebook magazine (my idea of hell). It was written by various female Australian writers about their age and what it means to them. The most interesting was Germaine Greer’s piece, it showed a more light hearted side to her and was quite funny. She said now that she is 70 she is on her last set of dogs, after these ones pass away she won’t be getting anymore. It’s funny to measure things by dogs. So an apology is owed to Notebook you’re not so boring after all. The travesty of the day was the huge amount of jam and cream that was left over, I contemplated getting a spoon and eating it but resisted the urge. What a sad waste.

No trip to The Mountains is complete without paying your respects to the Three Sisters. Echo Point was awash with tourists and fog so we couldn’t exactly see the three mighty sisters, which was not such a loss considering the other twenty million times I’ve seen them over the years on family holidays and school excursions. I quite liked the foggy blanket that covered the valley and even though you couldn’t see the main attraction it was still beautiful.

The scenic drive home timed in with the Triple J Hottest 100 of All Time countdown, hosted by Scott Dooley – could you ask for anything better? So, you really don’t need romance to enjoy the Blue Mountains, just good company, good chicken sandwiches and Dools’ dreamy, husky voice.

- BELLA

A Very Depressing Thought…

As today is the 3rd of July it officially means I have been home in Aus. for FIVE MONTHS, how did that happen? I feel like just yesterday I was OS. It is sad because it means I have been here in boring reality for the same length of time that my trip was. So what have I managed to achieve? A whole lot of nothing remotely interesting worth mentioning really. I think I will use this post to make it official – I NEED TO GO TRAVELLING AGAIN. Watch this space…

- BELLA

A Sydney Saturday.

Having finally got my licence last week after years of pretending I would, I find myself wanting to drive everywhere. I know this initial novelty will soon run out, especially after my experience last night of trying to get to St Leonards and ending up down the bloody Cahill Expressway in North Sydney (many thanks to my sister and Sarah for coming to the rescue and sincere apologies for crying hysterically on the phone to my brother and best friend). Shaken but not broken, it has dented the cocky P plate driver I was for a few days. I do want to make sure everyone takes advantage of this honeymoon phase though, as I am literally thousands of kilometres in debt to family and friends. Last Saturday my sister kindly let me drive us over the Harbour Bridge for an Oxford Street expedition.

An experience in itself is a visit to the Palm Beach Shoe shop - 370 Oxford St. This tiny store is overflowing with gorgeous shoes and grumpy customers. The novelty of this shop is navigating around the hoards of people, picking a shoe you like, trying to find an assistant then trying it on while avoiding stepping on someone’s toes or knocking over the shoe displays. I enjoy a challenge and managed to walk away with a divine pair of black ankle boots for $75. People in the store are very entertaining to observe. As it is the size of a matchbox they tend to be on edge, it is a true test of your strength and many troops simply give up, abandon their shoe and escape outside for some much needed oxygen. I do feel quite sorry for the lovely people who work there, unfortunately manners seem to go out the window when crowds are involved.

The next stop was Fringe Bar, which is transformed every Saturday into indoor markets. The club atmosphere is still present as you can sip on champagne while the DJ pumps out awesome music. Every time I go to these markets I make a mental note to dress much trendier next time but end up forgetting / do not possess that effortlessly stylish gene and always find myself drooling in envy at my fellow, hip shoppers. The stalls are a mixture of vintage, up and coming designers and regular brands. http://www.thefringe.com.au/

Across the road at the Paddington markets you can find cute little nick knacks, clothes and scrumptious, cheap lunches. I fell in love with a stunning top for a reasonably priced $45. It is one of those pieces that is almost too pretty to wear, no outing is worthy of its beauty but I know I will cave and whip it out soon. For the time being it is hanging in my wardrobe like a work of art as I continually gush at its splendour. http://www.paddingtonmarkets.com.au/

After all this intense shopping a caffeine and banana bread hit is essential. We stopped at an adorable café and florist called Lilifields. It is like walking into a secret garden. Another bonus is the great supply of trashy mags to accompany your meal. It is a quiet refuge from the chaos of Oxford Street and the tranquil pitter-patter of the fountain could trick you into thinking you are in an exotic, far away forest. They were also very generous with their honey and ricotta servings, which always leaves a good impression in my books. http://www.lilifields.com/

Now I obviously needed to take my new shoes out for a spin. It would be cruel leaving them locked up on a Saturday night. Where is the best place to take your cute new shoes out for a shameless jig you ask? 77 on William Street is a crazy cesspool of brilliance. There are so many reasons why I adore this club. Where else in the world could a man in a sparkly, red sequined dress and beard not only be let into the club but fast-tracked to the front of the queue? Where else could Kylie Minogue be played one minute then Bag Raiders the next? I love the fact they turn away people who are dressed ‘too sensibly’. It is the opposite to all those wanky, pretentious Sydney clubs. Collared shirts die, costumes, freaks and cross-dressing thrives. It was their first birthday on the weekend and the club, which reminds me of a trashy, dingy basement, was turned into a colourful circus tent. The male door bitches were dressed as ringmasters in g-string leotards and the star DJ of the joint, Hookie, was decked out in equally outrageous attire. The place is a circus every weekend but its true potential was really brought to life on Saturday night.

I live for these Sydney Saturdays. The thought of a day spent like this gets me through the week and although it’s not an overseas adventure it is still an exciting affair between myself and my lover, Sydney.

- BELLA