Artist of the Month: Sam Hunt

There may be a slight bias as to why this man is the featured artist of the month, but I look to explain something that has been bugging me about him for months.

The featured artist of the month November is Sam Hunt.

Sam is currently in the middle of writing his second album. (SOURCE: official Sam Hunt website)

Sam is currently in the middle of writing his second album. (SOURCE: official Sam Hunt website)

If you haven’t read my review for his debut album Montevallo, you can do so by clicking here. The album is also available for purchase on iTunes.

The year 2015 may very well have been the greatest year in Sam Hunt’s life. Three singles from his debut album have been number one on the US Country and US Country Airplay charts (Leave the Night On, Take Your Time and House Party) and the album was also number one on the US Country album chart and peaked at number three on the Billboard 200 chart, which is an outstanding feat for a rookie country music artist.

On top of this, Hunt has been nominated for several awards this year, including Single of the Year and Song of the Year for Take Your Time and New Artist of the Year at the CMAs. He won the Songwriter-artist of the Year award at the ASCAP Country Music Awards, the Breakthrough Video of the Year award at the CMT Music Awards, and he also took home the New Artist of the Year award at the Taste of Country Music Awards.

Sam’s had a killer year, no doubt, but that’s not what I wanted to discuss.

I wanted to write about why I liked Sam Hunt. I mean, really get to the heart of why I’m such a fangirl of his. And this also leads me to what really annoys me about most of his other fans.

Looking at the image above, there’s no denial that Sam Hunt is a very attractive man. Every box you didn’t even know you had on your “Dream Man Checklist”, he ticks off: he’s tall, dark, handsome, can play guitar and sing well, and he also has an affinity for snapbacks and funky pairs of pants. Yes, I admire his looks and, yes, it does make it easier to like him.

But that’s not why I like him, and that’s what bothers me about other Sam Hunt fans.

All of the comments on his photos across various different social media platforms tend to target one thing about his person – his looks. Fair enough, say and do whatever you want, but when there are so many other impressive feats about this man, it gets kind of repetitive, irritating and monotonous when all one can say about Sam Hunt is “OMG BAE AF”.

Let’s take, for example, the fact that he had a hand in writing every single one of his songs on the Montevallo album. If you’re not aware of how the music industry generally works, the singer does not write their songs; they are given demos sung by other vocalists and written by other smart people, choose whether they want to record that song, and voila. That song is now “theirs”. But Sam took this to the next level and co-wrote each song on his album and on top of that, recorded the vocals. If I’m not mistaken, he also had a hand in the instrument playing, but don’t hold me to that.

That’s talent, right?

On top of that, whether this is intentional or not, Sam is ushering in a new era to the country music genre. The genre of country music is very traditional in the sense that it isn’t too welcoming to change of any kind. Sam’s style of music is different in that while the country roots are evident in his music, he welcomes inspiration from other types of music into his songs. RnB, hip-hop and pop are welcome influences into songs such as Take Your Time and Single for the Summer and while this has caused backlash from country music traditionalists, I for one thoroughly enjoy the change.

On the topic of change, this is where I have to mention that I get daily Google alerts every time Sam Hunt is mentioned on the web. I like to think of it as stalking dedication as a fan. Receiving these Google alerts in my e-mail inbox daily, I get to read a lot of articles that mention the country musician that other fans might miss, and some of them have a very common theme: “Sam Hunt has a black back-up guitarist! Wow! Much shock! Many horror!” I’m sorry but it’s 2015. It shouldn’t be that noteworthy that Sam has a back-up guitarist who is black (Tyrone Carreker, if you’re interested in looking up this talented guitarist). These same articles also talk about Sam’s personal style as if they’re watching a dog walk on its hind legs, to borrow a quote from Mean Girls. Sure, he isn’t wearing Wrangler jeans with cowboy boots, but why does that prove to be a topic of discussion? There isn’t anything unusual about the way he dresses. I love his style personally.

Through his music, the way he dresses, and even who he chooses to have in his band, Sam is ushering in a revolution in country music, and on top of his enormous amounts of talent and absolutely charming personality, that is why I like Sam Hunt. Not because his biceps are huge (kiss me!) or his award-winning smile, but the fact that he is changing the country music genre, and for someone like me, that is very liberating. Hopefully as Sam’s career continues, the minds of country music fans will open and they’ll see their beloved music in a totally different light. I mean, even today, women in country music still aren’t treated the same as their male counterparts. This shouldn’t even be a problem.

Recommended tracks
Take Your Time from Montevallo
Break Up in a Small Town from Montevallo
Single for the Summer from Montevallo
Cop Car from Montevallo (FUN FACT: he originally co-wrote this song for Keith Urban)

You can follow Sam Hunt on social media at the following links:

– by Noah La’ulu

#NoahTakesAmerica2015 Part 3: Black Widow Mourning

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Even the great things like my Contiki tour.

I didn’t really plan this effectively because flying into Nashville, Tennessee (which is like my most favourite city in the world) should’ve been the time of my life. Due to my Post Contiki Depression (shortened to PCD), I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have.

Nashville was everything I pictured it to be. It really is a beautiful city and seeing it in person reminded me of why I loved this place so much.

So, funny story, the CMAs were on the night after I flew into Nashville but because I’m dopey af, I wasn’t aware of this until the day I left Sydney. Naturally, there were no tickets left, so I watched the CMAs from the comfort of my hotel room while the real thing happened a few minutes down the road from me. Thanks a lot, Country Music Association.

After settling into my room, I went across the road to get some dinner at a nice pub called the Tin Roof. The service there was lovely and the food wasn’t too bad either. What really amazed me, however, was when I looked up from my phone and casually saw Chris Young standing in front of me. I’ve been a big fan of his for who knows how long, and all I could muster up was a giggle. Or several giggles. Okay so I just sat there laughing as Chris Young spoke to some other people. He then walked past me and looked at me and right there was the perfect opportunity to strike and ask him for an autograph and/or a picture. But no. I kept staring with a stupid look on my face and laughed again. And then he had left the pub. And my opportunity had left me.

Oh, and they had this cute ass sign in the pub as well.


The next day, to deal with my PCD, I went shopping at the fancy mall in Green Hills. Sadness and a credit card does not equal great things. I bought more than I should have.

Thankfully, there was a Tiffany’s there and after some begging, they were ordering in my double chain charm bracelet to be delivered the day before I flew out. And with that, #Tiffanys has come to a peaceful rest.

After eating at the Cheesecake Factory, I watched The Intern at the cinemas (tickets were just under $10… that is outrageous!) which was a cute af movie. I returned to my room and sat in my PCD and sadness and went to bed at like 9.

I spent the day after to accomplish all my touristy goals: I went on a tour of the Grand Ole Opry which was absolutely amazing. We got to walk around backstage and even went through the artist’s entrance into the Opry AKA the entrance all the stars take when they come to perform. I can’t even begin to describe how amazing this tour was, and ot make it better, my tour guide was amazing. God bless her I can’t remember her name.


After the Opry I went to the Johnny Cash Museum, and if you know me well, you are aware that I lurrrrrve Johnny Cash, so this small museum blew my mind. I thought I knew everything about the Man in Black but this taught me a lot about my country idol. DID YOU KNOW that he voiced the coyote in that Simpsons episode where Homer’s wiggin’ out and he’s sitting on top of a pyramid looking for his spirit guide which turns out to be a coyote which turns out to be Johnny Cash? Mindblowing.


A cheese pizza and cheesy garlic bread slices later, I waltzed on over to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, which was a bit different than I thought it would be; notably, it was a lot more interactive and child friendly than I imagined it was. It was great to see so much country music culture in one building, and then standing in the physical Hall of Fame was ridic.


The day after was my final day in America, so naturally I spent most of it sulking about my holiday finishing. I went to another bar across the road from me for lunch called Two Bits, which turned out to be the greatest bar I’ve ever been to. Its a bar that has free arcade and console games inside and the staff there encourage you to play and get your game on as you eat and drink to your heart’s content. Umm, amazing, right?


I made a friend there who later invited me out for drinks and dinner. He paid for everything. And I gave him a fake name. I kind of feel bad, but at the same time, I don’t.

Oh, and I picked up my Tiffany’s bracelet. It’s beautiful. I have a love affair with it.


Free drinks and dinner ended my holiday and it was unfortunately time to head back home.

I won’t bore you with the details of my 28 hour travels back home (including the sweet old man sitting next to me on the plane who snored directly into my ear) but I will leave you with my final thoughts and shout outs to those who made my holiday as magical as it was.

Toni and Stacie: Thanks for breaking me into travelling and holding my hand as I got used to the wonders of airport security. I have been bitten by the travel bug and don’t plan on being home much anymore.
Tayla: Thank you for our drunken cousin night out. The D&M we had was one of the best I’ve ever had and I would not want to have that conversation with anyone else.
Brandon: My BFFL. Thank you for taking me all over Salt Lake to find my Edelman jersey, and thank you for being the devil on my shoulder and making me spend way more than I should have. And, also, thank you for being so understanding.
Jodie and Joey: My two first friends on Contiki! Thank you for being the first two to speak to me and make me feel comfortable. The times we had together were amazing, and if it weren’t for the nicknames we made, I wouldn’t have known who everyone was by the end of the trip. I’m glad you two don’t live too far away from me because I plan on hanging with you guys all the time. My holiday would not have been as great if I didn’t meet you guys.
Georgia: My bestie… what can I say? I broke down when I had to say bye to you because I was obviously closest to you and there was a reason to that. You are such a great person and I’m glad to have travelled with you for those 13 days. Thank you for being there to pick up the pieces for when I fell apart (twice) and thank you for your weird ass shoulder kisses and your antelope neck. I love you too Feddo.
Nate: Bae should really stand for “Best At Everything” when it comes to you because you’re so great at everything you do. Thank you for being my Contiki boyfriend and for warning off unwanted attention. And thank you for dancing with me in Dallas just so I felt included. You don’t know how much that meant to me. Love you always, my sexy awkward middle walk.
Hannah: My partner in crime. You’re just amazing. There’s nothing more to say. Your wit and sense of humour is as on point as your beautiful face. Thank you for all the good times we had together, and thank you for misreading the menu and ordering a salad wedge and providing me with the best memory I have of my holiday. See you at the inaugural Mac and Cheese Convention in Dallas.
Michelle and Andrew: PLESSSSS. STOP LOOKIN AT MEHH. WHY CAN’T I JUST BE NORMAL? I love you guys. Simply put, thank you for being you. Michelle, you are one of the greatest people I have ever met and I lowkey have a massive crush on you. Andrew, you now have to live with the fact that you have two other alter egos now: Carlos and Rear Exhaust Pipe. Oh, and thanks for letting me take your shirt off while dancing on a bar.
Genevieve: The Queen of the Planned Orgy. You are one of the kindest people I have ever met, and the most humble. Your spirit is as beautiful as your face and I am so glad to have met you. It feels like I’ve known you my entire life, and it has been like three weeks. Thanks for all the orgies as well, you saucy little minx you.
Tony and Mitch: My Enzo and Cass. Tony – thank you for walking me home in Durango and for keeping me warm. Thank you for dancing with me in Dallas and making me feel special. Thank you for holding my hand as I tried not to break down. Thank you for coming to my room and D&Ming with me as you cheered me up. Mitch – thank you for cuddling me on the coach when I was cold. Thank you for giving me your jumper in Dallas when I was cold (I see a pattern here). Thank you for carrying me and putting me to bed in New Orleans when I was too blind to do so myself. And thank you for reiterating that yes, I may be high maintenance, but everyone still loves me for it.
Elaine: Thank you for just being you, really. Your spirit really lit a fire into the group that we needed. And thank you for coming to my room after Halloween bearing french fries from Maccas and listening to me talk about why everyone pissed me off that night. You’re fantastic.
Tui and Memory: Thank you for assuming I can speak Samoan when I’m clearly white-washed af. The term “Memory Loss” doesn’t have the same meaning for me anymore. MEMORY, ALL ALONE IN THE MOONLIGHT. I love you guys.
Scott: The ultimate man of my dreams Scotty. Thank you for taking the time to get to know me, and for really listening when I spoke to you. Thank you for hunting me down that night in Amarillo to make sure I was okay, and thank you for holding my hand that night as I cried to you. You’re a top bloke, whether you want to see it or not.
Alex: The best roomie one could ask for… kind of. Thank you for being you. I thoroughly enjoyed picking up your pieces every night you came back to the hotel blind drunk and I’d have to take care of you. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. And thank you for knowing which bed was mine automatically.
Serena and Ricky: Queen Bee Serena and Big Daddy Ricky. Thank you for giving me the greatest fortnight of my life. There is nothing more I can add to that.
The rest of my Contiki group: You may not get your own individual shout out but you all meant so much to me. You have all left a lasting print in my life and I’m thankful for it. I know that I have taken 50 lifelong friendships with me, and I truly do consider you family. I love you all.
The guy in Nashville who paid for my drinks and dinner whose name I don’t know: What’s good.

I’m already starting to plan next year’s holiday in Europe. While I highly doubt it’ll be as great as this holiday, who knows?

After misplacing three pairs of sunglasses, missing a flight and crying to speed through the lines, breaking a pair of boots in Salt Lake, splitting a pair of jeans in Durango, leaving my niece’s snow globe in Fort Worth, and throwing a chair across a room in a fit of drunken rage in New Orleans, I am home.

Here’s to an end of a marvellous holiday and possibly the greatest five weeks I’ve ever had.

– by Noah La’ulu

#NoahTakesAmerica2015 Part 2: Contiki Craziness V2

Disappointed that I’d have to wait longer to get my double chain charm bracelet from Tiffany’s, we left Santa Fe and headed to the final destination for the night: Amarillo, Texas. What seemed like a seemingly unusual pitstop turned out to be one the most fun nights, much like Durango.

Before we reached our weird ass mofo uncomfortable lodge motel where each room had a fucking fly swat for no apparent reason, Big Daddy Ricky took us to Cadillac Ranch which, as you would imagine, is a ranch area with Cadillacs sprouting from the ground. The idea behind this is it’s absolutely free (and legal) to grafitti on these vertical half-Cadillacs so you can leave your mark in the US of A. Proving the theory that when one is given a pen to test, an exremely high percentage will write their name, I left this:


This dinner joint was special, in that it had a massive steak eating challenge that was once featured on the show Man vs. Food. Three of our guys signed up to cut and masticate that poor, slain cow and after all their hard efforts, two of them were successful (one also won me $70 in a bet we made). I would say congratulations, but the animal activist in me says otherwise.


After dinner, it was time to dance and get down like a real Texan. One of the workers there taught us a snazzy line dance – after effectively telling Georgia to move her ass because she was in his way, despite him having the worst eyebrows I’ve ever seen – and cheap drinks were plenty as our family bonded together for our first night in the state where everything’s bigger.

There was also this snazzy little rifle shooting game which gives you 20 shots to hit as many targets as you can. Not understanding the rules, and shooting as wildly as I could, I managed to hit about like two or three. Whatevs.


After an early breakfast and an early departure, we were officially on our way to Dallas, Texas, the home of next year’s WrestleMania… and the Cowboys as well, I guess. I don’t even want to discuss the arsepain that was the long ass coach ride in between, but we made it unharmed. That’s all that matters.

Some of the group separated from us to watch an NHL game, but Hannah and I were adamant that we were going to eat the dinner that was included in our Contiki price, so the other half went to dinner to a cute little restaurant around the corner.

After dinner, we went to one of the most Texan places I think I’ll ever see – a bar called Cowboys Red River, which is described as a country music nightclub, which features a large bar in the middle of a dancing circle where couples were outdancing the shit out of us. I’m a dancer and I was embarrassed by how little I knew about partner dancing compared to these wild Texans. My bae Nate and Tony both asked me to dance as the conservative gun-wielding Texans watched us in amazement, and both of the men led very well.

It also featured a mechanical bull that most of our group attempted, but no one made the party machine look as sexual as I did. Flips hair. Struts.

SIDENOTE: on the Uber ride to Cowboys Red River, the English-clearly-as-a-second-language driver asked what brought us to Dallas, and so lovely Jack casually replied “the sights, the food, the dancing” and everything else that makes Texas Texas, right? The driver didn’t understand what we meant by that, so then we twisted the story and told him we were in town for a Mac and Cheese Convention. And he understood that and believed us. Okay…

This was also home to vodka mixes for $2.50. Yes. Drink that in, everyone. $2.50. That’s like… 10 quarters for a drink. It was probably for this reason that upon my return to the hotel, I found my wonderful roommate Alex almost passed out on the sidewalk as the taxi driver begged him to pay his fare. He eventually did and I carried my friend up to our room where I sat him near the toilet to empty out his stomach. Two minutes later I return to find him actually fast asleep while sitting on the bathtub.


Whatever floats your boat, I guess. (I took that photo for evidence in case he wanted to deny any of the nights events happening)

I eventually got him to bed, and finally it was our second day in Dallas. Today’s events included a visit to the Sixth Floor JFK Museum, a tour of the AT&T Stadium which will host WrestleMania in 2016 (and is also the home of the Dallas Cowboys apparently) and a visit to the evil evil rodeo.

The JFK Museum was amazing and it was quite awe inspiring to be standing in the same building where it was alleged the President was assassinated from. I even got to stand at the window on the sixth floor and had a clear view of the road outside where JFK was shot, and it was as if I could picture it right in front of me. It was crazy and moving, and I found myself shedding tears at some points of the museum.

The stadium tour was actually more fun than I had imagined. Hannah and I planned to have the inaugural Mac and Cheese Convention here, and we also wore our Patriots gear to rub it into the Cowboys fans that would undoubtedly be at the stadium also (by our gear, I mean mine; I just forced Hannah to wear the Brady top).


After longing to run on the grass and do my best Edelman impression, after about an hour of touring the stadium, we got to run onto the field and it was definitely more exciting than it sounds. The boys kicked and tossed the ball around as if they were playing a real NFL game (Daniel’s quarterback skills were actually quite impressive) while the girls pretended to be cheerleaders.


Michelle and I did our best to defend the opposing offensive team, which consisted of us politely asking “Can you not run past us please?” and doing absolutely nothing else to stop them.

Directly after the stadium tour, we headed to Fort Worth, Texas for a rodeo that I point blank refused to attend. Like, I attend protests that are against this kind of thing. Before that, though, we went to steakhouse that offered all you can eat ribs for a very cheap price.

STORY TIME: so Hannah and I being close vegetarian friends sat next to each other so we could compare animal friendly items on the menu. Hannah decided she was going to have a plate of wedges. After an excruciatingly long wait for her food (mine came out pretty quickly), she looks over at a plate with what appeared to be a quarter of a lettuce head and says “Who ordered the half a cabbage?” with a laugh. It turns out it was hers. She ordered a salad wedge, not a plate of wedges, and I had not laughed like that in a very long time.

God bless you, Hannah.

As everyone else went into the rodeo – including my Bae who originally didn’t want to attend but changed his mind, just to spite me –I was left to walk around Fort Worth by myself. I ended up at a bar that seemed okay because it was populated by many, and had a few bevs and watched some locals perform. Genevieve and Hannah had alerted me that they couldn’t handle the evil evil rodeo and soon joined me at the bar. After being aggressively hit on by a man I can only accurately describe as a one/two at best, we left the seedy ass bar and joined the rest of the group to head back to the hotel. (I had previously purchased my niece a snow globe as she likes to collect them, and accidentally left it in the bar. It was that seedy of a place that I refused to go back and get it)

The last night in Dallas was a quiet one for the family as people were too tired to do anything else. The girls, however, had other plans, and Hannah and Elaine hosted the inaugural Contiki Girls Night in their room, which included awesome temporary tattoos by Gilded Ink, and a naughty game of Ten Fingers, where the seemingly innocent Memory showed her true colours (Genevieve and I fell in love with Memory this night, and it was then that the term “Memory Loss” truly earned its meaning).


These Gilded Ink tattoos ranged from the golden wings you see here to other awesome ones like bees, funky ring designs and other various tattoos.


After bidding farewell to Dallas, we headed to our next destination: Memphis, Tennessee. This long ass coach trip included a stop at Little Rock, Arkansas, where we learned about the Little Rock Nine and other civil rights movements that led the world to what it is today. This stop sent shivers up my spine as I am very passionate about civil rights and it was interesting to learn about the struggles the Little Rock Nine had to face just to do something as simple as get an education.

We also had a stop at the Texarkana state line, which to me was very fascinating. Naturally, I took this as an opportunity to be F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S.


The day was Halloween, and many rushed to get a last minute Halloween costume before we reached Memphis. There was only time for a quick dinner (which included the largest mofo cocktail I’ve ever had in my life) before we walked down the legendary Beale Street for late night Halloween celebrations.


This was my first American Halloween (obviously) and it did not disappoint. There were scary and sexy costumes a plenty up and down the street, and most of us ended up in an outside courtyard bar which had good music, great drinks and even better company.


Speaking of the drinks, they had these massive share buckets which had… I still don’t know what was in them to be completely honest. (Ignore the ultimate shade in my eyes)


The second day in Memphis was spent doing the real tourist things. We all made our first stop at Graceland, the home of Elvis. This tour included a walkthrough of his mansion which really suited the King of Rock and Roll and around the grounds of Graceland. We also got to see Elvis’ automobile museum which included all of the vehicles he called his. My Daddy is one of the biggest Elvis fans in the world so it was great to see some of the culture that really entertained my father when he was young. (It was also quite difficult trying to find a Graceland shirt that would fit my father’s large, muscular frame)


After the rather emotional visit to Graceland, some of us headed to Sun Studios, where my favourite Johnny Cash made his start in the music industry. The AMAZING tour guide told us about the history of Sun Studios in a very entertaining forum, and then led us down to the recording room where legendary greats such as Cash and Elvis made some of their hit songs. I even got to take a picture with the very microphone Elvis used when he was at Sun Studios. So much history in the one room. It was mindblowing. (This is my best attempt at an Ariana Grande pose)


It was from there that I went to the Rock and Soul Museum, which will only get one sentence because it was that disappointing.

After watching the amazingly awesome and cute Duck Parade at Peabody Hotel, the family went out for a quick bar hop around Memphis. A few others and I decided to call it an early night after Halloween’s shenanigans, so I ended Memphis on a rather high note.


The final stop of my Contiki tour was New Orleans, Louisiana, which to me is home of two things: Bourbon Street, and Taryn Terrell. I only had one night in New Orleans so it was this night that I had to say goodbye to the family members I had met on this awesome trip.

Bear with me as I don’t remember much from New Orleans (I was carried to bed, if that’s any indication of how blurry my night was), but what I do remember is that this city seemed to be more party central than Vegas itself. Yes. I said it. After many drunken goodbyes, tears, and tumbles onto the street, my Contiki tour had come to an end.


Some people say that they are no longer in contact with their Contiki friends after a while, but I can safely say that I took away many lifelong friendships from this two week tour, and I am so lucky to have met these people.

Contiki, you were amazing, and I’ll be back to see you before you know it.

– by Noah La’ulu

#NoahTakesAmerica2015 Part 2: Contiki Craziness V1

And this is where the fun REALLY begins.

So after staying in a feral charming hotel in Los Angeles, California, it was time to head to my Contiki tour. I ordered an Uber to take me to the meeting place, and as I watched the driver pass me and then cancel my own trip on me, I started to wonder whether I was even going to make it onto the tour. Luckily, the second Uber driver didn’t drive passed me as if he didn’t see me and conveyed me to the meeting place.

Upon my nervous arrival, I was greeted by a beautiful blonde woman named Jodie from Sydney who would also be on my tour. I was also pleased to hear that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t attend the Kickstart meeting. She introduced me to her travelling companion Joey, and I instantly liked the duo. “Maybe this tour won’t be so bad,” I thought to myself.

After the awkward introductions had taken place, we loaded onto the coach and left LA for our first stop: Las Vegas, Nevada (yes, I flew from Vegas to LA just to go back to Vegas on a coach). It was on this coach that we were first introduced to our “day song” (literally a song you listen to first thing you step onto the coach every day): Beat of my Drum by Powers. The song was annoying. Little did I know I would grow to love it.

In my opinion, Vegas was Vegas: there were about 20 moving vehicles promoting hot babe escort services driving down the Strip, neon lights and batshit people lining the sidewalks, and you were allowed to casually drink alcohol on the streets. After having a look around with Jodie, Joey, Georgia (also now affectionately known as Nicole/Grobbies/Veronica), Feddo, James and Nathan (AKA Nate/Bae), it was time to go out for the night. After dinner and taking a sexy group picture at the famous Vegas sign, we went through the VIP line into Hakkasan’s, one of Vegas’ hottest and most jam packed nightclubs.


I had prior notice that the first two nights in Vegas were the vital group bonding nights so I was expecting lots of drunk dancing, friendship making and family bonding. I was right. On day one, I knew that I loved my group. Every single one of them.

Day two in Vegas was relatively chill. A group of us went to a fancy ass mofo pool party (complete with hot foreign waitresses in bikinis and attractive people lying around in swimwear not actually getting wet) and despite the unusual cost for chair hire, it was actually really fun. After some free time exploring with Grobbies, it was time for our included limo ride down the strip with champagne (that tasted like donkey piss) and we were either dropped at the club for the night or back to the hotel. I opted for the latter because I was tired, and apparently I made a bad decision. People had fun. Without me. How rude.


Vegas was officially over and we were headed to Grand Canyon, Arizona. We were promptly informed by our sexpot wonderful tour manager Serena that there was no nightlife in Grand Canyon and to use it as “rehab”. Fair enough. We got to take in the lovely view that was the Grand Canyon (trust me when I say pictures do not do this place justice) and have family dinner. It was also the lovely Sonja’s birthday so we also got to serenade her with the boganest version of Happy Birthday ever.


The next day, we were invited to either: A) Take a helicopter ride over the Canyon, B) Take a bike ride around it or C) Hike it ourselves. Since I don’t like helicopters or bikes, hiking was the best option… even though I don’t like hiking either. It was up until this point that I had done well to conceal my “precious” traits. And then I went on a Canyon hike with a group of others, and the Princess qualities in me came spilling out. Whatevs.

I will say that it was an experience to be had, and once and once only will do me for a lifetime. I don’t hike. Like, I just don’t.


That evening we went out for a family picnic on the rim of the Grand Canyon and it was here that I accomplished an amazing feat: I touched the edge of the Canyon (after much hand holding, prodding and cat crawling to the edge)! Those who know me are well aware I can’t stand heights, so this was a deadset achievement.


After all the hard partying in Canyon had finished, we were off to our third stop: Durango, Colorado. Before we reached Colorado, we made a stop by Monument Valley in Utah AKA the place where Forrest Gump finishes his run because he’s decided he’s tired. We even recreated the running scene with handsome bearded Jarrod taking the role as Forrest.


OMG how did my modelling portfolio shots get in there. My friends tell me I look like Mischa Barton. I so don’t.


As soon as we had crossed the state border, Serena was quick to inform us that most people tend to enjoy the small town of Durango the most, and often get “Durango’d”; because of the high altitude and overall cheap price of alcohol, it was quick and easy to get drunk in Durango and go a bit too hard. Turns out she was right. Not only was my amazing roommate Alex completely off his face before dinner had even started, everyone was drunk and wild and ready to party as soon as we hit the local bar Moe’s.


Drinking with the family in Durango was by far one of the biggest highlights of my trip, and I truly understand the meaning of getting Durango’d. It was this night that I really bonded with two guys that would become absolutely dear to me by the end of the tour, Tony and Mitch (otherwise known as the Enzo and Cass to my Carmella), despite the latter constantly accusing me of being high maintenance. Like, I’m so not.

After exploring the town of Durango the morning after, our fourth stop on day six was Albuquerque, New Mexico. Known to some pop culture addicts as the location for Breaking Bad, it was also a stop with laundry (one does not know how glorious laundry is until one is running out of clean underwear). After a long night at Durango, everyone used this as another rehab stop, so with that in mind, I organised a pool party for everyone to attend at the hotel. Although I stand by my original statement that Genevieve was the one who wanted to turn it into a Sexy Pool Party Orgy Extravaganza…

Besides the wild orgy rather tame pool party and doing a load of laundry, not much else was done in Albuquerque since I point blank refused to get on a hot air balloon.

It was on the way to our next stop that one of the running gags of the tour would form. We made a quick stop by Santa Fe, New Mexico for a quick bite to eat and a quick look around. Being my first time in Santa Fe, I wasn’t aware of its shopping status, so stepping off the coach with the most innocent expression on my face, I casually asked Serena: “Is there a Tiffany’s here?”


And thus, #Tiffanys was born, and from then on, I would ask if there was a Tiffany’s present at every stop we made, whether it be at a big city, or a servo in the middle of nowhere.

By the way, there isn’t a Tiffany’s in Santa Fe. Just FYI.

It was now that I realised my entire Contiki travels would not fit into one post, so stay tuned for the second half of my wild Contiki adventure with the friends that quickly became my family.

– by Noah La’ulu