Candice has mastered the art of ruthlessly loathing the inconvenience of culture shock while faux-philosophising on Instagram to inspire her followers. She makes it very clear that she sees the “real” culture and every photo she posts depicts a profound life-changing event that Contiki Tour peasants have no chance of experiencing from the sheltered confines of their guided fuckery.
As a reward for not failing her 2nd year at Notre Dame, Candice is treated to a holiday to South America. Before leaving for the airport she uploads a photo of her passport and ticket to Instagram, “once more, embarking on the road less travelled, who knows what awaits me #followme #lifeisbeautiful #travel #wanderlust #hola #southamerica #realtravel #notours #nocontiki #solotravel”. Her father drops her off at Perth International and slips her an extra $500 cash, “don’t tell your mother, have fun princess”. She completes her airport ritual by checking in on Facebook and purchasing some expensive perfume – a true necessity of enlightened travel.
Many hours later, she arrives exhausted and furious in Rio de Janeiro and gets conned into paying twice as much for a taxi to her hotel room. However, her social media report on the landing was somewhat different, “landed in Rio! Just sweet talked a taxi driver into giving me a cheap fare #travelminded #streetwise #traveltips #neverpayfull #experience”. She arrives at her 5-star hotel and immediately uploads the obligatory bathrobe/champagne selfie to Instagram. Like all great explorers before her, she gets an uninterrupted 9 hours sleep on 2000 thread count Egyptian cotton, a real Christopher Cuntlumbus
She spends the next daily bitterly complaining about the sticky heat and bothersome beggars that inhabit the streets of Rio. Her resting bitch face is at an all-time high after being asked if she could spare any change for the 2nd time, after all, it’s not her fault that people decide to become poor drug addicts. She cracks a few smiles for selfies in front of famous landmarks and decides to catch up with a friend who is staying at a local hostel. To her friend’s disgust, she carries on like an over-cultured tub of yoghurt and alienates herself with dickheaded comments, “I usually hate running into other Aussies while travelling, like I totally travel to get away from them, hey”.
Her friend begrudgingly invites her along to an organised tour they are doing of a local Favela. During the 20-minute van ride to their destination she causes everyone to wak in their headphones as she wanks on about how she never does organised tours and “there is a first for everything hehe”. In reality, Candice is one of 200 tourists that got to walk through the Favela that day, but she barely noticed any of the sights and sounds as she was mentally creaming her jeans over the glory of her next travel update. She poses for a photo with armed gang members and becomes fixated on what profound bullshit she is going to spin to her legion of followers.
The group are sincerely relieved when she turns down their offer to attend an asado restaurant with them afterwards. How can these guided tour fuckwits eat at a time like this? Candice has a photo of her in an actual ghetto with actual thugs. This is the holy fuckin’ grail. She orders room service and begins scribing her narcissistic bullshit, “today I ventured into a real Brazilian Favela, it was so inspiring to see how the less fortunate live, and I even made friends with the local gangsters, it’s amazing how we connected over the universal language of respect #donttellmymother #favela #realtravel #wanderlust #roadlesstraveled #danger #pro”.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?