Guys. I am in a turkey/beer/good feelings/Christmas coma, but I couldn’t let the holidays pass without saying “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Although I AM a day late. Sorry about that.

I’m back to full-time freelance. Among things to look forward to is a post titled “Pictures of Candice Riding Things.” It’s exactly what you think it is.

And since I’m currently curled up on my bed drinking canned beer and waiting for good friends to show up to get this Boxing Day shindig started, I’ll just leave you with this epic Facebook status update from yesterday, which has apparently been the topic of discussion in multiple households. I had no idea. When I was told what happened, I dropped the box I was carrying and doubled over in laughter.

Ladies and gents, my family:

Merry Christmas, lovelies! I’m taking some time off to enjoy a little peace and quiet, but as the great Arnold Arnold Schwarzenegger once said, “I’ll be back.”

*Clearly it’s gonna take awhile to work out all the kinks, and some posts simply cannot be in this format, But let me know what you think!

Hellooooo friends!

It’s somehow fitting that the morning after having one of the worst sleeps of my life (it’s like frickin’ Doomsday out there today, Newfoundland is in the clutches of a crazy storm), I’m giving away a free night’s stay to a place where I’ve had some of the BEST sleeps of my life.

Delta Hotels, ooh yeah.

Delta played an integral role in mine and Cailin’s Cross-Canada trip, putting us up in swanky accommodations in Toronto, Winnipeg, and Sault Ste. Marie. I still dream about that bed in Sault Ste. Marie, and the epic service I received at all three locations. AND the heated floors in Winnipeg, DEAR GOD!

So that’s why I’m super happy to offer one lucky winner a free night’s stay at any Delta hotel or resort in Canada.

World's greatest bed

We’ll keep it simple:

1. Share a quick blurb in the comments about one of the best sleeps you’ve EVER had on the road! Did you fall asleep in a rickshaw and wake up not knowing where you are? Did you pass out in someone else’s hostel bed? Did you knock yourself unconscious with drowsy anti-nausea pills and wake up mid-flight with the entire plane staring at you because you had been snoring like a rhino? Guilty! Make it as short or as long as you wish.

2. Retweet: “@candicewalsh is giving away a one night stay at any @DeltaHotelsLtd hotel or resort! Check it out: http://tinyurl.com/6ffcvvy”

OR

“LIKE” Candice Does the World on Facebook — don’t worry, I’ll be watching. If you’ve already “Liked” me on FB and don’t use Twitter, no worries. I’ll check to make sure you’re a follower and we’re all good.

A winner will be selected at random using Random.org.

Rules:

1. This contest is ONLY open to legal residents of Canada—sorry!
2. Must be age of legal age of majority in your province
3. Contest ends November 9th.

And if you’d like the chance to win an even bigger prize package, Delta Hotels is hosting a Delta Difference contest on their Facebook page for a chance to win a weekend getaway prize for two valued at $1,295. Check it out! Contest ends November 23rd.

Time to get crack-a-lackin’.

This isn’t really a travel post. This isn’t even really a post about anything other than my frustration over something so horrific, it only deserves to be written about.

I noticed an alarming trend while driving across Canada. Everywhere I went, I was jarred by the sight of the Ballerina Bun. Whether I was sitting for a beer at a pub or browsing a sale rack at a clothing store, there were times when I caught sight of the Bun creeping into my peripheral vision like a predator out for the kill. It just lurked there all ominous and foreboding, while I froze poised to run for the door the minute it advanced in my direction.

Girls everywhere with a tiny bun piled haphazardly smack-dab in the centre of the top of their heads, like a Teletubbie. I call it the Ballerina Bun, except there’s nothing classic or elegant about it. As my friend Leila pointed out, this is often complimented by huge, face-covering sunglasses, a long blazer, and high boots. Brown ones, usually. I’m not sure whether it’s supposed to be indie or pop or chic, but it’s giving me a stomach ulcer like those goddamned Bench jackets that took over St. John’s a few years ago.

Duckface Ballerina Bun.

Out of every city we visited, Montreal, Ottawa and especially Winnipeg seemed most fond of the Ballerina Bun. My killer fashion senses tell me that this bun is the new replacement for the Messy Bun, typically worn by blondes and entirely misleading because they generally require a great deal of effort and hairspray. That roll-out-of-bed-and-do-the-walk-of-shame hooker look.

Alas, these trends spread like wildlife and there’s nothing to slow them down. I demonstrated the look for some friends during our cabin weekend in Northern Bay Sands, and before I knew it, we were all rocking the Ballerina Bun. I think it looks good on us, just the same.

I told them to "look pretentious."

And true to the nature of trends, I checked my Facebook stream this morning to see a wall post left by my friend Roberta: “You’ve created a monster – I’m totally rocking that bun all the time now.”

I can’t be held accountable for such things.

I turned 25 on Saturday. Do you know how old that is? I’m halfway to 50. I’m entering a life stage where my friends are getting married and popping out babies. I’m one-quarter of a century.

And July 7th marked one year of being an unemployed/self-employed hobo.

I had a few friends over for pre-birthday drinks on Friday evening. I’m generally a birthday whore. Matt compares me to Jenna from 30 Rock, because when it’s my birthday, I want to celebrate for WEEKS. I adore the attention. I want to be showered with affection. I want to wear a birthday crown at the bar and hit on cute men. And after the bullshit weekend I had before returning to Newfoundland, I was indeed ready to celebrate.

So then my cousin Nancy shows up with a birthday card signed from a handful of my friends, saying, “We couldn’t afford much, we’re all broke.” I was genuinely happy to even receive a card, because I often fail at delivering mine on time (sorry, Roberta). And then she says, “Oh yeah, and we got you this” and pulls out a massive gift bag with a Tassimo brewer inside.

I actually feel bad for anyone who decides to ever propose to me, because not even an engagement ring could compare with my pure elation about receiving a Tassimo. Maggie and Nancy are witnesses.

I first experienced this coffee magic in Vancouver while visiting Dawne, and have been raving about it ever since. And although I was beside myself with happiness over actually receiving the brewer—something I couldn’t afford to buy anytime soon—it was really all about the fact that my friends pulled together and spent their hard earned money to buy me something really thoughtful. If I ever had any doubt about returning home, it was all erased this weekend.

The next morning, a few of us packed up our things and drove to Grand Falls-Windsor for the epic KISS concert at the Salmon Festival. I was reunited with my friend Ashley, who recently became engaged and asked me to stand in her wedding, and then we spent the entire day poolside drinking beers and grapetinis. We had games of football in the water. We danced on the patio, got too much sun, and ate mountains of hotdogs. I logged onto Facebook to find a million messages, including this amazing piece of writing from my buddy Alana:

I feel this is the quintessential birthday photo.

Dearest Candice:

I wish you a smörgåsbord of traditional birthday delights: Cake. Champagne. Drunken dance floor shenanigans. Bare-knuckle boxing. A double dutch competition and a rousing game of red rover. Free taxidermy samples. A ride in a helicopter that looks like a giant moustache. A well-stocked walk-in closet that takes your well dressed self to the version of Narnia with the good beer and the smooth-talking, pool-playing camels. Sunshine. Sticky ice cream hands, but only when you have wet naps too. Consistent spontaneity. Giggle fits. Family that are friends and friends that are family. Love. And the happiest birthday yet.

Salmon Fest line-up for beer tent. Seriously.

And despite the festival being a total waste of time and money (we bought $90 in beer tickets only to discover we couldn’t actually make it through the bar line-up, and then nobody gave us a refund), I still had the best birthday ever. For someone who has never experienced romance in her life, I have never felt so loved. Thank you all, for being a part of it!

I’ve been Tweeting and Facebook posting about this a lot, but it has to be said. Ontario is big. Like, I can’t get over it. Since we arrived in Ottawa last Monday, it has taken us a total of six days to drive through the province (minus a two-day stopover in Ottawa to see my family).

We left Toronto after a night out celebrating Cailin’s birthday to head towards Sault Ste Marie, a nine-hour drive. Sault Ste Marie to Thunder Bay took another nine hours, and Thunder Bay to Winnipeg took us ANOTHER nine hours…an hour of that actually being in Manitoba. The funny thing is, the drives weren’t terrible at all. In fact, they flew by.

Northern Ontario is a whole different world. Many places reminded me of Cape Breton, with green rolling hills and tiny towns. Leaving Sault Ste Marie, we pulled up at a stop and took pictures of people statues standing around a deck, including one lady decked out with triple-F boobies. Country music blared from a store’s speaker. And then as soon as we hit the highway, our cell phone signal disappeared…and remained lost in space for two days.

Katherine Cove, so pretty.

Then, somewhere between the Soo and Thunder Bay, we came thisclose to running out of gas. Like, another five minutes without a gas station, and we would have been shit out of luck. We were warned not to do this at LEAST three times, from a number of people. We ended up in Pancake Bay at a hilarious rest stop called The Canadian Carver, where moccasins hung for sale, carvings littered the floor, a wood stove crackled in the corner, and we were handed free coffee upon entrance. People were overwhelmingly friendly, and once again, country music blared from speakers.

One of the stops in the Soo.

We were seriously entertained.

But the REAL adventure started when we arrived in Thunder Bay at 11:30 p.m. in search of our hostel. The highway was completely black. Eerily black. No cell phone service. Our GPS pointed us to a dark, deserted byroad without any streetlights, and finally we ended up at the hostel with no one else in sight. An older man came out to introduce himself and point us in the direction of our rooms.

Did I mention the whole time we were in Thunder Bay, it was THUNDERING? And LIGHTNINGING? Non-stop. CONSTANT flashing.

Him and his wife had been running the hostel for over 40 years, apparently. They’ve literally adopted people from all over the world, and their hostel actually consists of three different buildings to house travellers. And their place is FILLED with stuff, like more stuff than I could ever get through. Statues, carvings, artwork, magazine clippings, funny comics, books, souvenirs. It’s amazing, and insane, and we spent some time browsing through photos and reading material left out for visitors. In our “Mongolia” room, the owners had filled little plastic sleeves with short stories selected for our reading pleasure. We were told there were 15 year old boys camping out in the camp bus, and a dude named Mario who ran the whole show. We originally thought he was imaginary, because the elusive Mario was nowhere to be seen. But the next day as Cailin headed to the car, she found him sitting on a bench feeding a cat.

A view of the hostel

The next day we just left, casually. That was it, we showed up and then disappeared. Owners were totally casual about it.

Twilight. Zone. Can’t tell you how glad I am that we stopped at that hostel.

Yeah, Northern Ontario is sorta surreal. There’s large-ish cities like Thunder Bay and the Soo scattered about, yet they’re hundreds upon hundreds of kilometres from any other major hub. It’s kinda baffling. You’re just driving through this northern wilderness and BAM! A city! Also, if you go to Thunder Bay, eat at Hoitos for breakfast (get the Finnish pancakes) and head over to The Persian Man for a Persian pastry. And then go run five kilometres.

This post has been brought to you from Lindsay Hogg aka Hogga from The Traveller, the ultimate guide to balancing tequila and tourism, wrapped in amusing tales of around the world mishaps and adventure.

Although travelling the world can be one of the most life changing, awesomesauce experiences, you will always have days where you miss the comforts of home. For me, it’s often food, particularly PIZZA (sorry friends and family… food trumps all).

It may not even be home that you miss particularly, it could be having your own toilet, shower or solid Internet access. These things can begin to take a toll on you. We’re not always as strong as we’d like to believe.

Here are some tips to help you cope with being a wussy wanker.

1. Treat yourself to some god damn alone time!

Sometimes you miss home because you’re worn down. All that beer drinking, uh… I mean “hiking,” can tire you out. Get a good night’s sleep and have some quality alone time with your favorite person, YOU. Throw bricks at people if they knock on your door. (If you don’t carry a brick for angry times like this, throw a shoe. Not as effective, but it works.)

Making new friends.

Other travelers can relate to what you’re going through. If you’re homesick, talk to someone about it. They may be able to cheer you up or present you with some helpful advice. If all else fails, let them take you out and get your S%&#faced. It could be EPIC, just don’t drunk cry about your homesickness, it makes for awkward times.

3. Do something adventurous

A splash of white water rapids or vibrations rattling through your bones from mountain biking may be just what the doctor ordered. These awesome adventures help remind you of why you started traveling in the first place.

4. Call home

Hearing a familiar voice can comfort you. It can also be a helpful reminder that nothing exciting is going on at home and your friends are lazy a-holes. Keep in mind this tip can backfire, be cautious of how it will effect you emotionally (i.e. if you’re going to start crying when you hear mommy’s voice, don’t call home).

5. Get a good meal in you

On the road it can be hard to get all your meals in, never mind good ones. Sometimes we grab whatever the cheapest and quickest eats are to save money and time (this is often the case in all walks of life). Lack of nutrients can really affect your mental, physical and emotional state. Have a full and healthy meal (cook for yourself if possible). It will make you feel a lot better, and big healthy food is delicious! Num, num, num…

If you enjoyed this as much as I enjoy rainbows, unicorns and beer, feel free to follow me on Twitter @TheHogga. WORD.

Is it any wonder why Lindsay is one of my new favourite travel bloggers? Thanks for the laughs, Lindsay! I hope I get to shoot tequila with you during my little cross-country excursion. I’m currently home in Bay d’Espoir for the weekend catching up with the relations and enjoying weather above 0 degrees Celsius. I get to wear regular socks today, not wool ones! Happy Friday!

I’ve never been to New Zealand and my knowledge of the country extends only as far as the images seen on Lord of the Rings. I bet you Kiwis hate that, don’t you? But there’s this whole Blog4NZ thing going on and I hate missing out on a good party, so I started reading through the blog posts. Dear god! If it didn’t cost more than my entire savings account to get there from Newfoundland, I’d be all over it like stink on a hobo.

But when I do get there someday, here’s what I’d like to do.

Walk Baldwin Street in Dunedin - I got this idea from Andy Hayes, and although it seems like a cop-out compared to the other wicked-awesome things to do in New Zealand, climbing the steepest street in the world would be rad. Especially when I’m pretty sure I live on the steepest street in North America. Or at least it feels that way.

But I won't ride a unicycle like this fool. Photo by Samuel Mann.

Hike Doubtful Sound - Another from Mr. Hayes, simply because OMGISNTTHISPRETTY?

I wonder why it's called Doubtful Sound. "Is this a Sound?" "Doubtful." Photo by Kiwi-Wings.

Sit on a beach – Because I can.

Visit Hobbiton - I had no idea this actually existed. TINY HOUSES FOR TINY PEOPLE?

White Water Rafting – Like Dave & Deb did with Rangitata Rafting, because water sports are the only sports I really enjoy and yet I’ve never been white water rafting. I’d love being hosed down while clinging to a raft in class 5 rapids, truly.

Visit Aoraki Mount Cook National Park – Because the water is so blue. And the tallest mountain in New Zealand is okay too, I guess.

Photo by dan taylor.

Actually, Camp at all 14 National Parks – If there’s anything I learned from my weekend at winter camp and my unfortunate 20-minute struggle to change my underwear in my sleeping bag, it’s that I definitely need more camping experience.

Hang Out With Some Glow Worms in Waitomo, New Zealand – I hate worms and things that have glowing poop, but these are pretty cool. Also, I had a nightmare not too long ago that I found 3 worms in my hair and they were causing me to go bald, so I feel like somehow it fits into my weird life.

Learn to Dive – I’ve been tossing around the idea of learning how to dive for a few months now, and it’s something I’d like to do. There’s some amazing shipwrecks around the coast of Newfoundland to be explored. One of New Zealand’s 25 marine reserves sounds like a pretty great place to start.

The one thing I won’t do, ever? This.

Now excuse me, this music is giving me a seizure.

Blog4NZ is a grassroots blogging and social media effort to support New Zealand travel in the wake of the Canterbury earthquake.

It is a worldwide blogging event happening on March 21-23, 2011 and you can be a part of it.

Dudes and dudettes, I have a proposition for you. Today, for one day only, Global Giving is hosting a special event to raise money for Guatemalan children suffering from chronic malnutrition. With every donation you make, no matter the amount, Global Giving will match it by 30%. Even $10 will buy a day’s worth of milk for 20 babies.

From the site:

45% of Guatemalan children ages 0-5 suffer from chronic malnutrition. The Casa Jackson Home for Malnourished Infants provides in-house and out-patient care to 100s of infants and children each year.

Casa Jackson is hoping to raise $40,000 to provide further in-house and out-patient care for these kids. Their long-term goal is to provide communities in Guatemala with the right education to eradicate poverty and hunger. Seriously, even just $1 helps. And if you need a further push, just check out that cute little Guatemalan baby image. You could save babies.

For more info on what they’re doing, check out this fantastic ABC documentary featuring my buddy Luke Armstrong:

This is my do-good deed for the week before an entire day of St. Patrick’s debauchery. I like juxtaposition.

[Feature photo by marinakvillatoro]