Featured Blogger: Callie Rodwell
Best Holiday Experience
For my eighteenth birthday, my mother sent me off on a trip to Canada. It was my very first international flight, and I was flying solo. Although my twenty five hour journey there was turbulent and complete with a drunken Frenchman next to me, I arrived safe and sound and was met by some old friends who were intent on showing me the time of my life. And they did. The highlights include: a road trip from Montreal to Toronto and Vermont, spotting Justin Timberlake at an HMV, being part of a studio audience on a Canadian TRL style music show, and singing Karaoke until four in the morning in Montreal's bustling Chinatown.
I got to see some amazing art exhibitions, attend my first jazz festival and stay in a motel that had plastic pink flamingos on the lawn. (Due to the impolite and aggressive nature of the motel owner, we acquired one, but that's another story for another time.) The entire experience was textbook quirky art movie, and I loved every minute of it.
Worst Holiday Experience
In high school, I was one of those people who made a point of not following the crowd, and therefore decided to skip out on the traditional Plett Rage. A few girls from my friendship group decided to rent a cottage in Hermanus, right on the beach. On paper, it sounded like the perfect girly getaway, but it ended up being a total nightmare. Cramming eighteen girls into a small house is a terrible idea. Add cocktails, sunburn and an impromptu 'house party' with boys we'd met on the beach to the rising tensions, and you end up with flared tempers and broken plates. The five day fiasco taught me a very valuable lesson about group holidays: 'Never, ever go away for a weekend with a bunch of teenage girls, even if you are one.'
I'm a big fan of castles, particularly ones where a lot of scandal has taken place. In light of this, I've always dreamed about visiting Versailles. I can think of nothing nothing better than munching pastel coloured macaroons in the gardens of the world's most infamous queen, dreaming about a time where everyone dressed like they were starring in an Adam Ant music video. I may even purchase an elaborate powdered wig to commemorate the occasion, and upon my return to my hotel room, walk around in it and practice my 'royal wave.'more blog posts