In prehistoric times, a pre-blogging world where film was loaded digitally via fingers into SLRs and the word status was used alongside symbol rather than to describe ‘What’s on your mind?’ or ‘What’s happening?’ (aka the Dark Ages of 2003), a self-proclaimed London Meeja Ho bought a one-way ticket to Argentina to travel the globe. She said goodbye her badly paid and even worse behaved city life as a scriptwriter. No more producing MTV live music shows, softcore porn masquerading as reality television and hardcore masquerading as Nat Geo podcasts about the gestation periods of elephants and dolphins.
From crossing the world’s largest continental landmass with the Beastie Boys and Slipknot, to living with endangered gibbons building treehouses in Laos (they were crap with a Phillips screwdriver), to working for months in silence in a national park as a chandler (candle-sculptor) for the ex-supermodel who gets her tits out in Animal House, to running illegal parties in South America’s graveyards, to that wrap party behaviour which got her deported from New Zealand, to voicing porn, it’s all been documented. There was no such thing as the brevity of 140 characters.
1 x incident with the face of Armani (sitting on)
1 x pilled-up, passport-missing (well, left on hotel bed) airport confrontation which involved being convinced the stewardess was Jackie Brown
1 x attempt to dump the camera equipment and head to Mexico
- Attempt to smuggle malbec out of Argentina, Buenos Aires Passport Control
She started talking about herself in the third person (plus using paretheses a lot). And thence began the journey. Actually maybe not ‘journey’. That would imply lessons learned.
And so began the trip. And the really long e-mails. Many have proudly mentioned how they would print them out and read them in the shitter.
In 2010 she realised her romantic vision of moving to Buenos Aires and worked on solely wearing minimalistic black clothes and horn-rimmed specs, quaffing malbec and drinking coffee on her own in candlelit cafes whilst reading novels like Catch-22. When not directing and scripting international TV shows, cumming down a mic voicing Playboy TV, running illegal house parties, and writing her own comedy, she blogged, vlogged and slogged for various sites such as Time Out, Sabotage Times, Latitude Travel, Journey Latin America and The Real Argentina.
Now based in Barcelona and London, she produces and directs international content for Institute of the Arts Barcelona, Vice and The Creators Project, scripts artist specials for MTV and Vh1’s music channels and writes features for Ink Publishing’s inflight magazines, Miniguide Barcelona, Delitessen, Shopikon and Mr & Mrs Smith.
That means free honeymoons, but still no man.
In times of Recession-Depression in the (y)UK, nobody wants to hear how good your holidays are-slash-were-slash-will-be, so due to popular demand it’s time to revisit all those memories of trustafarian travel assholes, psychedelic-amphetamine-based fear and fake lonely laughs. You never know, you might even pick up a travel tip or two before you flee your isle.
Names have not been changed to protect the not so innocent. So, if you’ve ever met me, be VERY afraid.
- R.I.P. Meeja Ho
- Mi Estomago es Mas Grande que un Caballo
- Economistas & Cloud Perverts
- Kick the Cops
- Marmite, Masochism and the 8th Wonder of the World
- Jungle Barbie & the Slow Boat to Peru
- Xtreme Pie Eating & Richter Action
- The Passion of the Goldapple: from Nunnery to Kiwi casting couch
- Chips, Dips & Wax on the nips
- There’s a Rat Shit in my Candle, what am I gonna do?
- Poking, Banging & Humping in Rural Seclusion
- I Come in the Land Down Under
- Jump on the Bandwagon: Musos Cum to Stuff your Muff
- Treehouses, Maps & a Gibbon Called Willy
- High Fidelity Travellers, Accidental Tourists & Bad Monks
- Crouching Mustafa, Hidden Mohammed