An idiot’s guide to Egypt

Part one – Giza & Cairo

Since the tender age of eight, I have longed with all of my wistful might to visit the land of the pharaohs. Transfixed by the mysteries of the great, honking pyramids, the promise of exotic landscapes and uncovering the secret to Cleopatra’s winged eyeliner, I recently took the plunge and booked my sorry ass on the first flight to Cairo.


Our first, mind blowing stop was the ever-glorious Giza.

I can’t recommend the soulful experience of waking up to a view of the pyramids highly enough. Chugging down sugary mint tea to a symphony of calls to prayer, the dusky beauty of a morning gaze at the pyramids gave me more of an am kick than caffeine ever could.

Street puppies of Giza
The no-nosed lady, Mrs Sphinx – a heck of a load smaller than I had imagined!

You’ll find a load of affordable spots to stay in Giza, all sporting wonderful staff who are more than eager to organise your entire trip for you, but we chose the Best View Pyramids Hotel. 

With comfortable rooms, a tasty price tag and even tastier stuffed pigeon (more appealing to some of us than others), this ripper hotel had the rooftop terrace of a lifetime.

One hell of a terrace view ✨

Treat yourself to a cold, local lager, have a puff at a shisha pipe and put your lazy feet up on the glorious rooftop. With a view you’ll never get sick of and a lentil soup to write home about, you’ll find all you ever needed right in front of you.

Ask for Saber, the hotels resident tour guide and bad ass, who’ll take you on an astounding camel ride through the Sahara Desert to explore the pyramids. Yep, pretty flipping amazing. The man even knows his way around your good side, working the angles for any and all photo shoots you may require – bona fide legend.

Zinger happy snap courtesy of Saber himself 👏🏻

You’ll need a few days to fully absorb the wonderment of the pyramids. Explore, climb and try not to get swindled into a $40 photo on a camel in front of the tombs – it’s a heap harder than you might think.

Take your walking shoes, some snacks and your own stash of that h2o goodness. Giza is where it’s at, so much so that I’d almost endorse you put at the end of your trip, nothing will ever quite live up to the splendour of le pyramids.

The magnificence of Uber means you’re a hop, skip and a sarcophagus away from the big smoke in Cairo. Make sure to grab a sim card at Cairo airport when you land and save a bunch on taxis, that is, unless you’re an adequate barterer and can fend for yourself.

The Egyptian Museum in Cairo and it’s startling Mummy Room are well worth a gander. None of the artifacts seem to have the usual explanatory plaques, so it’s a spiffy idea to take up one of the eager guides outside the museum on their offer to show you around – at a price, of course.

Tahrir Square lies just next to the Egyptian Museum, and was the base for the people’s revolution in 2011. Again, without the wonderful world wide web, you won’t find much information about the uprisings in the square itself. Do a little research, give yourself some context and soak it on up.

During your wanderings in the bustling streets of Cairo, don’t let the opportunity to sneak into any of the Koshary stores slip you by. Open windows displaying obnoxiously sized bowls of pasta, lentils, chickpeas and fried shallots dot the avenues. Make sure to venture inside and have yourself a carb loaded meal.

A traditional Egyptian meal, Koshary is a bowl of all of the above, paired with a delicious tomato sauce. You can add spice and vinegar to the delicious concoction and eat as the locals do. Vegetarian and the ultimate belly filler, I swear it resurrected me after a long hard slog at Khan el-Khalili.

Khan el-Khalili is one of Cairo’s largest souk’s and is a tourist hotspot. Potentially the only time I felt a little on edge security wise, in the depths of the market you’ll find an intricate maze of market stall after market stall. It was here I did my best work, dropping some cold hard on a jazzy artesian rug and a hoard of Egyptian gold jewellery. Just remember to put your hard ass hat on and only pay what you want to.

The final verdict on Cairo and Giza? Make Giza home base and enjoy the pyramids in all of their glory. Cairo’s big city vibes make for a brilliant day out, but can feel a little intense for the everyday traveller.

Talk to as many locals as you can and don’t let stern warnings from concerned friends back home, stop you from making a friend or two along the way.

Don’t be fooled into thinking the Pyramids are all Giza and Cairo really have to offer, with a mountain of wonderful day trips and adventures to be had – Memphis, Saqqara and the Sahara to mention a few – this little pocket of the world has your name scribbled all over it.


Bought about by my slow decline over the hill and my steady approach to an imminent quarter life crisis, I have been doing some serious searching of the soul lately. Journeying on as deep of a trail of self-discovery as my encumbered soul can muster, I have come to one important realisation.

My favourite colour is no longer yellow.

Having only just come to terms with this calibre of bombshell (measuring -1 on the bombshell metre, a bit like me), I am still finding it difficult to discuss openly. I am however, choosing to push through my fiery inner turmoil and break down the stigma, in the desperate hopes that my words help anyone else in a similar position.

I have spent the last 23 cushy years of my existence believing yellow, in all of its kind, warm hues was my numero uno – oh how wrong I was. I am now, after much internal assessment, announcing my allegiance with green and I encourage y’all to do the same.

If my laborious, overly-detailed and mildly-waffled explanation was not evidence enough, I bring before the court, my smoking gun – this Georgia Alice dress.

Ladies, gentlemen and our gender fluid friends, I rest my case.

Wearing: Georgia Alice dress found here, Celine necklace found here and jerky grin.


As you can tell, I’m a devout minimalist. With the help of Confucius, Socrates and of course, Ikea, I have transformed my cluttered, chaotic life into an austere and restrained existence. No longer do I indulge in the practices of materialism, exhibiting the finer qualities of the Minimalistic lifestyle, and it is just that, a lifestyle.

This emotional upheaval is a change that has transcended into my sartorial choices, with my clothing now representing the discreet nature of my minimalistic life. As you can see, my garmets adhere to a strict black, white and grey palate, and serving merely as practical, functional items of apparel.

If you two are looking to simplify your life and your fashion choices, feel free to contact me for tips, tricks and words of wisdom (bullshit).

Wearing: Rat and Boa dress & Josh Goot corset, similar here.

faint whiff

I have impressively crap hair, I say it like you haven’t already noticed, but woe really is me.  I blame my poor genetic makeup for being particularly inconsiderate and choosing me last for the good hair team – what a bastard.

Thin, ratty and causing me the same psychological repercussions experienced by 50% of the male population suffering from premature baldness, my hair sucks.

Despite several wildly unsuccessful attempts at stimulating hair growth, attempts that left me with nothing more than the faint whiff of desperation, I have finally come to accept my misfortune.

My thin, mullet-esque mane can always do with a little helping hat and thanks to the good dudes at Lack of Color, my rats tail is now happily and rather fashionably disguised – hoorah.

Wearing – Winston Wolfe leather pants, similar found here & affordable faux leather leggings here, Asos blouse, similar found here and here, Lack of Color boater, similar found here.







Dirty, stinkin’ toes

I have one rule I thought was never to be broken – if I’m wearing a jumpsuit and it’s not giving me a camel toe, it ain’t no jumpsuit of mine. You’d be as startled as me to find that this denim number has broken my cardinal rule, gasps. No camels or their dirty, stinkn’ toes in sight, who would’ve thunk it?!

In high school I was permanently settled up the asses of all of my teachers and was never a preacher of the ‘rules are meant to be broken’ passage, but as it turns out, not all jumpsuits give you camel toe – miraculous, hey?

Cotton On has me singing happy tunes of elation in this stretchy, denim onesie and boy does it feel good. Total comfort and all without a hefty price tag, you beauty.

Wearing: Cotton on jumpsuit, similar found here and here, vintage Chanel belt, similar found here and here, with affordable version here.

Amicable breakup

I want to celebrate my brief, but non-the-less loving union with this Gucci backpack before I send it, well, packing. You see, as much as I L.O.V.E dropping a dollarydoo on a fancy-pants piece of fashun, I have champagne taste on a beer budget. My solution is reselling.

While it served me a great deal of purpose to have this glorious backpack in my arsenal of wallet carrying vessels, it is time to move on.

A bit like an amicable breakup, I am sadly bidding farewell to this masterful piece of cowhide and gold.  I’ll never forget you Gucci, the first backpack I’ve loved since my year four Spider Man number – what an honour it has been.

Wearing: Understated Leather jacket similar here, Abrand jeans, Asos crop similar here and Gucci backpack.


Like only animal print can

As a cold blooded creature and maybe even a medical step behind in the evolutionary process – see jawbone for reference –  I am at one with the animals.  Big, little, flea infested and all, I clearly have Bindi Irwin blood pumping through my icy veins.

Harnessing my innate animalistic spirit, I have translated my love for the animal kingdom into my sartorial choices – this Rat and Boa leopard number meeting all of the requirements. It’s glorious silky goodness is warming my snake-like heart like only animal print can.

Do yourself and Bindi a favour and get your greasy grubbers on this bad boy ASAP.

Wearing: Rat and Boa ‘Valentina’ dress & Balenciaga earring.




Denim Erotica

Attempting to create an interesting dialogue on the joys denim can bring into our solemn lives, is like writing on the joys of crinkle-cut chips – bloody obvious. It doesn’t take me, or captain obvious (also me) to deliver a number of reasons why you should be donning double denim for the rest of your days – you already know it.

What I can provide, besides the blaring obvious (seemingly a specialty of mine), is a denim love story. A storied tale of romance, love and denim – all of the makings of a great erotic novel, am I right? For a depiction of said fairytale love story, find images below (no erotica i promise, your eyes are safe).

Wearing: The Fifth Label ‘Sentiment’ dress found here, The Incoming ‘Astro’ necklace, similar found here, Acne Studios leather clutch, similar found here and Le Specs ‘Last Lolita’ sunglasses found here.
Photography: Anastasia Borrelli 26175322_10155566280344130_518764065_n26135154_10155566279819130_2023034728_n26134990_10155566280284130_55587293_n26176086_10155566280129130_1858876078_n


An Idiot’s guide to Havana, Cuba.

Havana, Republic of Cuba

La Habana, land of salsa dancing, sexy people and the shits. In the planning stages of my trip, I scrolled through glamorous images of pristine beaches, vibrant buildings and of course, gorgeous Cubans – all of which, lived up to my sky-high expectations. A place steeped in rich history and even richer culture, next time you’re in that pocket of the world, make sure you stop by for a mojito or four.24020171_10155483270819130_160655965_n

School kiddos indulging in a spot of P.E in the local square.

Food, food, food 

Despite their ideal climate for growing fruit, lots of the fresh produce resembled my decolletage after a long, hard day at the beach – overripe and wrinkly. Don’t be expecting exotic, luscious fruits, vegetables or much fresh food.  Occupational, health and safety standards leave a lot to be desired here, so come prepared and bring all of the snacks.

As a communist country, Cuba remains untouched by the wonderful world of Woolies and Foodland. Supermarkets are hard to come by and those that you do stumble across are pretty empty. Bring muesli bars, snacks and any medication you may or may not need – I would not recommend getting ill over there boys, it’s utter tripe.

One of many local fruit stalls scattered in amongst the ‘burbs.

Money, money, money

There are two types of Cuban currency, CUC for the tourists and Cuban Peso for locals. Sadly, the fresh bakeries and fruit markets you walk by only accept local currency, so unless you can get your grubbers on some Peso’s, there’s little chance of you shopping in these local haunts.

There are two banks in town that you can convert currencies when you get there, but it’s ideal to have some CUC’s in your pocket. I had no trouble converting Mexican Peso’s in town, but if one bank knocks you down, hit the other. Avoid converting USD at all costs, you’ll be taxed till you bleed. 24098676_10155483271739130_347922932_n

Where to stay

I visited twice, experiencing entirely different accommodation options both times. Hotels vs. home stays, you ask? Home stays through and through, my dears. Not due to any wrong-doing on the hotels behalf might I add, but the more personal experience of a home stay was wonderful, comforting and gave you a bigger insight into what it might be to be a local.

The varied reading material – exclusive to all things Cubano.

I and by that, I mean my long suffering parents, had us bunkered down in the glorious Hotel Santa Isobel. Santa Isobel featured a glittering rooftop terrace, opulent French elevators and an open lobby, providing you with an abundance of architectural porn. The bread at breakfast could’ve been used as a weapon to stone your enemies, but the fresh fruit, juice and kind-hearted waiters who fed our leftovers to stray pups, more than made up for it.

24019776_10155483270874130_1072814166_n24098723_10155483271259130_581513162_nOur home stay, found through Airbnb, was nestled in the ‘burbs’ of Havana, littered with locals, lots of little poopers playing soccer in the street and just three blocks from the water. Our hosts offered a 5 CUC per person breakfast each morning and holy smokes, it was good. Louie, our glorious housekeeper sprinkled some fairy dust into the eggs each morning, which were by far the culinary highlights of our days and even managed to dissipate my Vegemite cravings – quite the feat.

Narcissistic local resident with her 4 cameras, map and filthy Aussie accent.

Museum of the Revolution

An interesting spot to hit if you’re after a touch of propaganda and in-depth shrine to USA’s deficiencies. Despite the rather one-sided recounts, there are some snippets of information about everyday Cuban life that might take you by surprise. The building itself is resoundingly beautiful, with cool marble floors and gold detailing so take yo’ camera people.24135337_10155483271404130_1560512040_n24098877_10155483271439130_305159887_nRestaurante La Guarida

This fancy-pants ex-palace is a hot spot for the rich and famous, food lovers or just smelly tourists looking for a night of make pretend – I clearly fall into the first category, duh. Being a more upscale establishment you’ll need to shit, shower and shave (debatable) beforehand and don your finest threads. For me, this included a $15 H&M dress in dire need of a blind date with an iron and a pair of size 11 men’s thongs, held together by bread tags stolen from a Mexican supermarket. Glamour is in fact my middle name.

The food is the best I had in Cuba with leafy greens that won’t give you salmonella, a wide variety of mains (some of which, are vegetarian friendly) and an intriguing array of desserts. Ask to be sat outside, the terrace view will blow your damn mind and make sure to catch the sunset. Reservations are required, so get in early. 24133447_10155483277759130_1302717435_nHotel Ambos Mundos

A popular haunt for tourists thanks to Ernest Hemingway’s love of the rooftop and their tip-top mojitos, Ambos Mundos was my go-to for a sit down, a few cold ones and a ripper view. Strolling into the lobby, head straight to the French-style lift and let the elevator operator take you to the rooftop. Take plenty of photos, tip the waiters and marvel at the spelling mistakes on the menu.

Hemmingway enjoying the view.

24019819_10155483277224130_970870241_nVintage Cars

One of the highlights of my trip was taking a vintage car tour around the city. The general rule is – furthest from the square, the cheaper the deal, so hunt for the best price people. We paid 45 CUC for a one-hour tour around the city, but most quotes were for 60 CUC. Don’t be scared to put your big girl panties on and haggle a drop.

We drove through to the other side of Havana, the highly populated streets providing an impressive spectacle for our greedy eyes, before heading back past the coast. Recommend, recommend, recommend.24098670_10155483277264130_2022256057_nPlaya Santa Maria
A hop, skip and a half hour taxi ride from central Havana, Santa Maria’s water is as pristine as Mum’s criminal record – clear as the day is long. Make a day of it and grab some water, snacks and a camera. We chose to spend our Saturday there, competing for space with the locals – you’d be far better off on a weekday. Sadly, the beach is pretty well littered with rubbish, cans and plastic so do the good thing, clean up after yourself and pick up any other scraps you find – you’ll be granted immediate entry into enviro-heaven.

Cheery creature despite newly reddened skin-tone.

Havana, in all of it’s starkly, unique glory has left a lasting impression on me. It’s rich culture and the vibrancy of its inhabitants will have you craving more and more.

Now you have it, a painfully detailed, albeit shortened version of my travels to Havana. Remember, bring snacks and medication. Come off the plane hydrated, don’t vomit in airport sinks, get wheelchaired off planes, eat veggie sandwiches of any kind or get heatstroke – it’s the bin, I would know.