Happy Little Vegemites: Secrets of the Grin.

Posted on October 4, 2014 by Sheona Bello

Happy.

There’s nothing like some down time to make you contemplate the things you really love, and on a recent bus ride from Ollantaytambo to Cusco, Peru – which was just that little bit too long – I had just that sort of ‘me’ time.

Prepared for a three-hour journey through the Peruvian countryside, I prayed to my iPod to prepare the best, chilled playlist, turned up my earphones, lifted my legs onto the back of the seat in front of me (smelly feet alert!), and spaced out to the view from my window seat.

There’s something special about some old school tunes that really make me smile from the eardrums out, and as I bumped along to the beat – and potholes – I started thinking about the other, teeny tiny little details, which really make me happy.

I’m not talking big-ticket items like “winning the lottery”, “falling in love” or “landing a dream job”, because these are pretty far and few between. If I thought these big things were the only way to be a happy-go-lucky person, then happiness would always seem another Power Ball ticket, lover and promotion away.

So why not focus on the little things.

It sounds cliché I know, but think about these merry makers. Think of how simple yet totally rewarding they are (hopefully you can relate):

When Coconut water is on sale for no particular reason.
When a waiter brings a big, cold, jug of water to your table without being asked.
Big coffee mugs.
Hearing children speak in another language.
Perfectly made cordial.
Waking up to a sunny day.
Sand between your toes.
Smelling good.
Fresh bed sheets.
Hotel bathrobes.
Hot showers.
Telling a bad joke that gets laughs anyway.
Perfectly ripened avocadoes.
Finishing a book.

These are just a few of my favorite things, and with them, I am the happiest little vegemite in the world.

Sure, the big things are important too, but at least I can experience the bliss from any of the above daily, of my own accord, without relying on some outside source to bestow upon me a $2m prize pool, attention, or a new job.

So what little things ‘float your boat’?

Find a pretty place to sit, grab a pen and paper, and brainstorm the heck out of everything that reveals the cute dimples in your cheeks!

Conjure, remember, reminisce and revive every thing you love, every incy-wincy-teeny-weeny detail, use them and abuse them everyday.

I’d love to hear what you come up with!

Love S.

Fallin’ for the Falls: Iguassu.

Posted on September 30, 2014 by Sheona Bello

On planet Earth, there’s a sweet spot. Let me talk you through it.

You see, personally, I only need to head to the supermarket and attempt to reach the dried figs on the top shelf to get a perspective on how small I am compared to the world, but there are some places out there, which truly make you feel like an ant.

A teeny tiny little thing that could be washed away in a second. Somehow, experiencing this ant-like state is miraculously liberating: it’s like you are forced to just sit, look and admire with a loving envy at how grand other things are.

Other things like great waterfalls, or more specifically, the Iguassu Falls. A few days ago I truly grasped the said ant-life whilst in Brazil, and this is my story.

I was in Caipirinha Heaven.

Pronounced: kye-pah-reen-ya

It’s a cocktail, it’s strong, and Brazil is literally crawling with them.

Drinking these bad boys is basically a National Standard around this part of the world, so if you choose to visit, you better be Caipirinha-ready for a Caipirinha-good time!

I was basically Jane from Tarzan.

I swear I saw Tarzan a few times, that’s all I’m saying.

But seriously, there are rainbow coloured butterflies flitting around, flirty Macaws who say ‘Adios’ and cheeky little monkeys who literally convince you to pick them up, put them in your pocket, save them for a rainy day and become best friends.

But to really fire up your jungle experience, you should definitely dress like Bindi Irwin, pick a bite-size banana fresh from the bunch on the side of the pathway, carry a walky-talky and climb a Palm Tree to drink your Coconut Water fresh from the source!

Okay maybe don’t try that last one at home, Palm Trees can be really high. But you get the gist: the Jungles are legit!

I abused Watermelon Juice on tap.

Yes, you read right: on tap.

I love you, Breakfast Juice Bar!

I saw ‘those’ Falls.

This isn’t a class on the many ‘Wonders of the World’ so I wont go overboard in explaining just how amazing the Iguassu Falls are, but just so you know, they are kind of a big deal.

A Go-Pro and genuine desire to get completely drenched are necessary.

Iguassu Falls.

Still Falling.

Survivor.

Toucan Pride.

Hi Banana.

Banana not so ripe.

If you too, have ever felt like a cast member from ‘A Bug’s Life’, share your story, we are all friends here.

Love Sheona. xo

‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’: No crying in Buenos Aires.

Posted on September 22, 2014 by Sheona Bello

No matter how small you are, 24 hours in transit, across seemingly endless seas – even with the entertainment of new movies on demand and a new set of Dr. Dre Beats – is never a comfortable experience. I swear I tried every single method of curling up, and leant my head in every way trying to imitate a decent nights’ sleep – all to no feat.

But like every thing that takes time, finally arriving in Buenos Aires, the Argentine capital, and apparently the cultural capital of ALL South America was totally worth it.

As a Spanish student, witnessing the verbs and syllables I attempt so often in class, being applied to the real world was freakily satisfying, and being able to choose from a menu without the anxiety of wrongly ordering steak tartare (raw mince, oops, what?! no tartare sauce? Weh! – True story) is really quite comforting.

But more than the words that litter these streets in conversation, and the weather which is superbly ideal for a gradual tan, in the risk of sounding clichéd – this place is really, very cool!

I’m talking about a country of late-night loving, tango dancing, sweet-toothed, insanely carnivorous people; whose adoration of dulce de leche (the best type of caramel you’ve ever had – and I hate caramello koalas, so that’s saying something about the level of caramel here) seems to have no registration on waistlines – I mean, these people sure know how to, metaphorically, “put it away”.

I should have known, this is after all the hometown of Shakira. And well, “hips don’t lie”.

But apart from the effortless swing of every native hip, this city is one whose Sunday Markets are second to none, whose streets are perfectly flat for bike riding enthusiasts yet whose pedestrian crossings are more like death wishes. There are ‘hoods which will transport you to Paris in an instant, and others which are so colourful and musical that you will legit think you are trapped inside a play-box of lego and tango costumes.

But honestly Argentina, I’d happily be trapped here forever, and if you too, happen to find yourself in BA (code for Buenos Aires), check out these gems of a good time!

San Telmo Markets.

Sundays only folks, but oh, so, good! I spent a solid 5 hours touching every bracelet, llama wool jumper, antique and bag. There’s a lot of arts and crafty type stuff if you’re into it, but have a geez for some cultural immersion. A good beat of music, or stall of food is never more than 10 steps away, so spending a day here is really a no-brainer.

Dulce de Leche.

With alfajores (short-bread style cookies), in crepes, in a cone, mixed with ice-cream, oozing from a cake, or just rubbing it all over yourself then licking it off. Do whatever you can to consume as much of this as possible. It’s mandatory.

Inner-city gardens.

If like me, you love a bit of a tree-change, check out the Japanese garden , the Botanic Garden, or even the Constanera Sur reserve.

Chimichurri Sauce.

Why isn’t this magical sauce a ‘thing’ in Western Society? I am positive it is God’s condiment of choice. Much too good for children! Best with burgers, chorizo, steak, pork, bread, vegetables, chips, pancakes, – ok too far, but you geddit!

The Cemetery.

Sounds morbid I know, but this is actually sick! See below for insight!

Cafe Tortoni.

Just do it. Get a coffee, use the bathroom or just have a look around – it’s kind of a big deal.

Tango.

Self-explanatory! Cha Cha Cha! – Not sure if that’s part of the tango, but yeah, WOO!

Camiñita, La Boca.

Refer to said, lego box of tango dreams.

#meateater.

Street Tango in La Boca.

Word.

Café Tortoni.

Camiñita, La Boca.

Greenhouse Lovin’ in the Jardín Botánico.

La Recoleta Cemetary.

Next up: Iguassu Falls. Stay Tuned Amigos!

Sheona xo.

Visiting Dr. Zeus – An Adventure in Athens.

Posted on September 2, 2014 by Sheona Bello

Athens: the birthplace of Greek Salad, the stomping ground of Hercules and the humble home of Ouzo. With so many fruits to offer the tourists and the world, I really have no idea why people give good old “Athina” such a bad rap.

Most travellers seem to pry away from the Greek Capital following talks of it being “too dirty”, or “depressing” as a result of the country’s financial crisis. But honestly, take a trip (if possible) and decide for yourself.

I personally love a good Athens session, here’s why!

Greek Yoghurt, everywhere.

Sure Frozen Yoghurt bars have taken over like a bad rash here in Melbourne, but it really can’t compete with the fresh, Greek style.

Some of us spend years, if not a lifetime trying to discover the “best” yoghurt, and those lucky little Greeks are fed it from birth. I may not ever come across such fresh from the pot, creamy, delicate, enveloping, porcelain white goodness, but I can die happy knowing that I did enjoy a few cups, topped with some outrageous honey and a few pistachios just for fun. If you are lucky enough to find yourself craving this treat in Athens, you just have to check out Fresko Yoghurt Bar! So good!

Image by @lmb_notherone via Instagram.

Soccer – Gate 7 Style.

If possible, find locals, become best mates and convince them to take you to a soccer game.

I thought my dad’s friends were a bit fanatic when it came to the AFL grand final, but a glimpse of Grecian Soccer within the renown Gate 7 area of utmost fanatical soccer-goers, puts even the Collingwood die-hards to shame.

I’m talking 3 hours of endless chants, flares and fireworks. My ears are still ringing, but I like it.

Image by tasosmikronis via Instagram.

Flea Markets.

Minus the fleas. It’s always fun meandering through trinkets and bobbits and do-whats-its. Embrace it and buy something for your mum while you’re at it, she’ll love it.

Image by cartoulespress via Instagram.

History, everywhere.

Places like the Acropolis are older than your grandma’s, grandma’s great grandma! Pretty impressive right?

Image by zmurphman369 via Instagram.

No skimping on the feta!

If the menu says it has feta, you better believe it, and you better like feta, because there is going to be a lot of it.

Don’t be shy, be the feta, love the feta.

Image by frederixz via Instagram.

Bar-licious.

I never would have picked it, but Athens has some of the coolest bars, in.the.world!

I’m talking art gallery drinking spots in old warehouses (The Art Foundation) and 75 flavour liqueur tasting houses (Brettos), and of course, we can’t forget a memorable rooftop – there’s plenty around with killer views!

Brettos. Image via flickr.com.

The Art Foundation.
Image by Kosta R. via Four Square.

This icy-pole.

Hands down the best thing I have ever tasted. Or maybe it was the 30C weather which made it taste so good. Either way, I vividly remember a party in my mouth!

Image by @catfishsoup via We Heart It.

Yamas!

That’s how you say ‘cheers’ in Greek. Fun fact.

Image by @vinooAF92 via We Heart It.

I love you Athens!

Love Sheona x.

Lesson #1: Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Posted on August 30, 2014 by Sheona Bello

It was a cobble-stoned, garlic infused, balmy night that we arrived in Rome, and the days that turned into nights- and vice versa – were no less magically authentic. In the dark, we would chase through the silent, lamp lit avenues with new best-friends, and as morning dawned we would explore this ancient city purely in the direction of our latest gelato cravings. My time in Rome truly was all fun and games, and these are the lessons I learnt.

Know that there is only one place to stay.

And that is: Yellow Hostel.

Like the Colosseum, this place is a Roman Institution. If you’ve ever stayed there, you’ll rave about it to anyone that even drops the Rome bomb on talks of their travel plans, and if you haven’t yet been to Rome, then I’ll be THAT guy (girl) now.

You need to stay here! Besides what you’d think, this place isn’t yellow, the beds aren’t yellow and the reception girls aren’t dressed in yellow body paint. It’s a useless name really, but one you need to remember.

Be completely lured by the bar and outdoor area upon arrival, and be utterly ready to relinquish your attempts at Merlot aided Italian sophistication, in exchange for €1 shots freely poured by your new favourite bartender. Let these run their course and give you the confidence to partake in dance-offs, to the songs that will compose the “EUROTRIP ‘14 YEEWWWWW” playlist you will keep on your iPod forever.

The Yellow.

Skip breakfast.

You’re in Rome, why waste a perfectly good meal opportunity on breakfast when you can go straight for the main attraction. Pizza and fettuccine, I’m talking to you!

There are way too many places offering “the best pizza” on the block, and it seems that homemade pastas are a standard procedure. My best advice is to see if Nonna is out the back whipping up her traditional Bolognese. Yum!

Breakfast of Champions.

Pop bottles.

Water bottles that is, and take advantage of all those random water fountains streaming pools of ice cold H2O.

Acqua Fresca!

Try before you buy.

This is a universal rule, but even more vital when it comes to gelato.

Always, always try, and if they didn’t give you enough on the taster spoon, try again, you’ve only got two scoops, make them 2 to remember.

Memorable scoops.

Make yourself at home.

Hostel style.

When it’s disco-nap time, it’s disco-nap time, and a disco-nap requires all the love it can get.

Most of the time, the world keeps going when nap hour begins, so you are generally free to dominate the dorm room. Our favourite plan of attack was to place all of our mattresses in the middle of the room and have a good old afternoon spoon, or Siesta – call it what you want.

When annoyed dorm mates enter and object to your dictatorship over the 12 bed room, just ask them if they want to join – they are probably just jealous. In the off chance they reject your offer, pretend to fall back asleep.

DIY bedding arrangements.

Cover up.

Against popular demand, all churches and religious places worth seeing require a huge lack of skin on show. In the risk of spending unnecessary cash on a nun-length dress you will never wear again, or worse, wearing pants on a 34C day, grab a scarf and wrap it around a few times.

Voilà! New skirt, with the added functionality of being twirled off and stuffed back in your bag immediately after you exit the Vatican.

After all, you need to let those legs breathe, and that tan to keep developing. Thank me later.

Respect.

Ask for a skinny latte.

Just for fun. Know this, Skinny Milk is not a ‘thing’ in Italy. Go fat or go home!

No chance in skinny heaven.

These are the commandments, if you’re in Rome, you must follow accordingly.

Sheona.

The Gyros Complex.

Posted on July 10, 2014 by Sheona Bello

Santorini creepin’

There was plate smashing, ‘Opa’ chanting, day parties and night crawls. Digestive Sambuca gulps, seafood and moussaka. There were sapphirical waters and dramatic cliffs. Red beaches and black coasts, 20 bed dorms and dual level private condos.There was delectable Greek yoghurt and even more delightful, Grecian weddings atop The Santorini caldera. There were stunning dinner views amidst the Colgate white buildings, and even better gyros picnics against a majestic sunset.

But the quintessential Greek experience – or the Gyros Complex, as we have coined it – was not complete without Herculean party efforts to match the mythology that surrounds these Cycladic lands.

We danced bar top in Mykonos, established a beach party in ‘quiet’ Paros, took over the most famous public viewing spot for our picnic in Santorini and walked home in the daylight of an Ios Tuesday morning. All this couldn’t have been better if not suffixed with the company of a Busabout group which, within a little over a week has become part of an extended family with idealistic, and beautiful Greek roots.

We came, and we definitely conquered.

As I write this, we are mid ferry on our way back to Athens, where it all began. Our Greek Island life is over and everyone is catching up on the sleep they have neglected in spite of the legendary Ios party scene.

When we dock, all 43 of us will shoot off like fireworks in our own directions, but the memories we have made, shared (and forgotten) over the past 10 days will unit us forever.

I’ll always remember how I met you in the Summer.

Self-explanatory, that’ll do donkey.

Mykonos mills.

Paros strolls.

Once you go black..

Magical Santorini.

Wisdom.

Fun Pub.

Paraga Beach, Mykonos.

En route Paradise Beach, Mykonos.

Viva Punda, Paros.

Skandinavian Bar, Mykonos.

When in Rome…

Posted on July 5, 2014 by Sheona Bello

Gelati Mafia

Maybe it was inevitable that we would love Rome. I mean it is the city of endless love is it not?

Wow look at me, I’ve only been travelling for 3 days and the two Londoners we met on friday night have already imparted their sentence structure with me! If I were at home, there is no way I would say ‘is it not’.

So this is what it means to travel eh? Getting cultured, even with cultures whose city you are not visiting. Because we are definitely not in London, and we are not chilling in the corners of Sydney’s northern beaches or even at a sorority dorm in Oregon state. We are in Rome. But even in Rome, I’m learning so much about these other places, the lives that are led there, and most importantly, how the corners of the world like to party.

We were convinced our first night would end with the bottle of Merlot, a drink chosen not merely for the ‘acquired’ taste it lent us, but more so, for its affordability divided by four. An €8 portion of Italian gold preceded the night that would see us watch the midnight stars twinkle on the sidewalk, endless nagging of the DJ to play Iggy Azalea one more time, and multiple attempts to have a twerk off with two American girls who had obviously practiced far more than us.

As the sun rose, we definitely didn’t, and I’m sure breakfast, lunch and the snacks in between merged into one big pancake at the downstairs bar of our hostel, just the remedy and antidote for a day of getting parched in the Colosseum, being devastated at the ‘under construction’ state of the Trevi Fountain, eating our body weight in Gelati samples, and aimlessly wandering through the cobbled streets which were so perfectly representative of the Rome I have imagined in my dreams.

Pasta was essential, and Gelati was absolutely vital before we headed back to the hostel and greeted by our new pals, – from about 4 minutes earlier – gallantly adorned with trays of jäger bombs and mojitos. Soon the bar top was our dance floor and instead of watching the stars, we were racing through the streets, singing Beyoncé lyrics to policemen and bringing in the next day with dawn chats on the balcony of a room that was certainly not ours.

Confessions of love by beautiful Italian boys, the most amazing salad you have ever had, leashed dogs wandering the aisles of H&M, more Vespas than you can count, merging our mattresses so we can imitate an ‘at home’ slumber party, lattes that cannot be “skinny”, and deeming it acceptable to walk around speaking to ourselves in our best, elongated and dramatic Italian pronunciation of every word. This is Rome. This is love.

Glad-iators, Colosseum.

Now to flirt with the Greek Gods.

Help me, I’m poor.

Posted on February 25, 2014 by Sheona Bello

– But I still want to have delish noms in cool places. It is this exact dilemma which leads me to my incessant adoration for Is Lentil as Anything. All friends with similar wealth levels will resonate my praises for … Continue reading →

Mornings in Thornbury-ish, Melbourne.

Posted on February 18, 2014 by Sheona Bello

Thursdays are my current “trav” day, and by “trav”, I am acutely referring to travel. I just thought I’d cut the word short, because I am not travelling overseas, interstate or even outside my city: I am simply travelling in my land vessel (car) to a new ‘burb.

The “Hood” in question: Preston, a.k.a the resident location of my latest efforts at being a cool, hipster intern.

So basically, the Preston/Northcote/Thornbury areas are quite foreign to this south-eastern gal, and for anyone completely lost, I am talking about the regions of Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, Southern Hemisphere, World, Earth, 3^rd Planet from the Sun, Universe.

And yeah, in the realm of travelling, a 50km radius is hardly any cause for commotion, homesickness or a packed lunch, but I am a travelling fanatic, so any excuse to wear my Dora the Explorer mentality is met with obscene amounts of enthusiasm.

Hence, here is my first attempt at travel writing, ironically, on an area somewhat close to my hometown.

Let me give you a prologue: I HATE traffic.

Traffic lights, pedestrian crossings, slow drivers, peak hour, unnecessary road works, tractors unfit to accelerate above 15k/h (I Mean seriously, why don’t farmers just run more, it would be THAT much faster – and yes, I am a seasoned farm girl and tractors, as well as horses are not unusual on my local roads), school zones and – did I already say – peak hour traffic?

So you get the gist, I HATE TRAFFIC. In order to avoid the experience of annoyingly stalled vehicles, I leave my house 2 hours before humanly appropriate, in order to arrive at my location prior to the emergence of the said roadblocks.

This early bird fixture leaves me with ample free time before my 9am start. Hence, the opportunity to explore unknown lands, and in this case, neighbor-hoods.

In these wee hours of the morning, there is so much room for activities and I am glad to report that the strolls, chirpy baristas, haunted churches and Colombian Single-origin espressos have been quite delightful, and if you happen to find yourself in a similar predicament, here are my top picks:

1. Take a stroll through the Yarra Flats Park: The Main Yarra Trail goes through some pretty neat areas, just be careful for those helmet –wearing bandits on two-wheels, you may just get run-over.

Main Yarra Trail, Yarra Flats Park, Melbourne.

Memorial, Yarra Flats Park, Melbourne.

St. John’s Anglican Church, Melbourne.

St. John’s Anglican Church, Melbourne.

2. Little Henri: Super talkative baristas are always a plus, and this place has really nice toilets, and a courtyard. Actually, make that an AWESOME courtyard. You’ll love life until you realize you can pay by cash only, and your phone fails to find the non-existent Wi-Fi (how am I going to check-in now?). C’mon Henri, c’mon.

Little Henri, Melbourne.

Little Henri, Melbourne.
Image by @kleeborg via Instagram.

3. Lowlands: legit a hop-skip-and-jump across from Little Henri lays a place where Santa comes early, in the form of: EFTPOS, Wi-Fi, Clap your hands say Yeah! Gleaming from the speakers, incredible coffee, even better iced teas, delicious bagels (so I’ve heard), nicer baristas, and wait for it: THE BEST GODDAMN COURTYARD I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED IN MY LIFE!Huge call, but I stand by it 100%.

Picture this: you died in a sea of marshmallows, which became clouds, and propelled you to the golden gates of heaven itself. That, my friends, is what you experience when you head to Lowlands is. It would be rude, NOT to go there!

Lowlands, Melbourne.

House Blend Magic. Lowlands, Melbourne.

Iced Tea. Lowlands, Melbourne.

So there are my Thornbury Morning Picks. These will be totally relevant if like me, you are interning on High Street, hate traffic, like long walks on the beach, enjoy fondue by the fire and have time to kill in Melbourne’s North.

Keep Experimenting! xo

The Sheona Experiment.

Category Archives: Explorations