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What a difference a year (or 20) makes

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Yup, believe it or not, and I am not quite sure I do, I was first in Bali 20 years ago.  I agree, I don’t look old enough do I?  It was the second stop on the trip that lit the travel fire in my belly.  The trip that changed my life for the better.  The trip that made me realise what life was about, and what I needed to do to enjoy it.
A chance conversation, one lunch, with a work colleague (who has become a life long friend), quickly escalated into us jointly leaving our jobs and embarking on a 12-month working holiday to Australia.  1994.  That is where it all started.
Prior to this, the longest I had ever left the UK was for 7 days.  For various holidays to the usual spots, across Europe.
So, describing us as wet behind the ears would be something of an understatement.  This could probably explain why, within 2 hours of being in Bali, I had been robbed of all my money.  That sounds dramatic doesn’t it?  Every self-respecting travellers’ rite of passage.  Being robbed.
Maybe I should add a few clarifications.  When I say “robbed”, I mean quite purposefully distracted by some of the smallest kids you had ever seen, whilst their erstwhile friends unzipped my bum bag (YES, I did say we were wet behind the ears), and cleaned me out of rupiahs, the local currency.  And by cleaned out, I mean the sum total of the few quid that I had allowed myself as my budget for the night.  Anybody reading this, who knows me well enough, will know that spending money is not one of my strengths.  I think it is the Yorkshire genes.  So I may have lost about £5.76 in real money. Still…I was robbed.
Bali, 20 years ago.  Apart from the trauma of the robbery, the things that stick in my mind from that very first trip in June 1994, was arriving at a very small, ramshackle airport.  Very different to the gargantuan, gleaming terminal, just opened this year.  Staying in Kuta, boy how that has changed, we found THE place to drink, a happening little place called Sari Club on Legian Street.  Many of you will know the Sari Club as the place that terrorists struck on October 12th 2002, decimating the club, and the surrounding area, taking the lives of 202 people. 
Bali bomb memorial
 Kuta looks to have recovered in many ways from this atrocity, and the development now seems rampant, to the extent that, like many places I’ve seen through southern Thailand, the tipping point has been breached, between tourism, and over development.  There are no moments of peace available at the memorial for the bomb attacks, on the site of what was Paddy’s bar, another of the bomb sites, as open air night clubs blast out tunes from the turntables, drowning out even the traffic. Some feat in itself.
The place is now unrecognisable, yet, there is one thing that will never change.  And that is the wonder of the setting sun, which we viewed from a little plastic stool, on the beach, with an ice cold Bintang.  THAT is what brought travellers to Bali all those years ago.
One other thing that doesn’t change, and gets much worse, is the traffic situation.  Why the roads have lines, and traffic lights, is beyond me.  It literally is everyman, and woman, for themselves. Scooters and motorbikes weave in and out of traffic, taking their life into their own hands.  And as you can see, not just their lives, but those of almost every member of the family too.  As a seasoned scooter rider, on the mean streets of Sydney, I had a change of heart from my original plan to hire my own wheels and rip up Bali.


Just 6 hours from Sydney, Bali is a different world.  And it wasn’t just a result of the wines, and whisky, and gin that was consumed on the flight.   Much alcohol was required after the stress of making it through some of the longest queues I had ever seen at Sydney airport.  And then equally long queues on arrival at Denpasar airport in Bali.  That said, the long queues gave plenty time to read and absorb the warning signs regarding ebola, and how you could catch it, such as “touching a dead body”, something that I then made a studious effort to avoid whilst I was there.
The week was spent in a great hotel in Tanjung Benoa, slightly north of Nusa Dua, in the south of Bali.  A far cry from my humble abode whilst in Kuta on my second visit in 1999, where I stayed in a very quaint little bungalow.  With a fresh flask of tea and banana pancakes served up first thing every morning.
Seven days flew by in a whizz of all you can eat breakfasts (it turns out I can actually eat quite a lot.  Who knew?), mid day beers at the swim up bar in the pool, trekking with elephants and hugging orang utangs, and lots of pork, a staple of every Balinese dinnertime.  There were satays aplenty, and large Bintangs all around.  One of the days was spent on the Bali Fun Ship, its actual name, where much fun was had on a day trip to a little island off the east coast of Bali, Nusa Lembongan.
I can’t go without mentioning the fact that I fell victim to the infamous Bali belly.  Probably as a result of the curry I had, that did in fact taste very good whilst eating it.  What I didn’t anticipate was the poo-snami that it would bring on the day, and subsequent days after. 

Oh, god, no.

Driving the road trip off the bucket list

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It has taken a long time to get around to this latest instalment of the Australian odyssey.  I could blame a lot of things.  But where would that get me?  It would just reinforce the tired, lazy stereotype of the “whingeing pom”.
So, here I am, in Max Brenner, the self proclaimed bald expert on chocolate, as I sip an Italian hot chocolate, which is so luxurious, I am half inclined to further procrastinate.
But let’s cut to the chase.  Bucket list.  What springs to mind when I say bucket list?  A film starring Jack Nicholas?  (not his best btw).  A rather morbid checklist of all the things you want to do as you count down your final days?  Or just a list of items that are more a wish list than something you are actively working towards completing?   An “aspirational list”?
For me, it’s possibly an amalgam of all these.  But without doubt, the overriding factor is a list of things that I am determined I will do.  In my lifetime.  Whilst I am still young.  Yes, I know this is patently up for debate, but it is my bucket list.  My rules.  Ergo, I AM still young.  For now.  And my bucket list is something I am actively tackling with much gusto.  Hopefully well before the bell goes on my time here and I shuffle off this mortal coil. 
And for this reason, all the items I have on said list are eminently doable.  As is being proven by my working through the list.  The most recent achievement being the camper van trip. 
What started as a germ of an idea over 20 years ago, on a walk through the salubrious surroundings of Halifax town centre, finally came to fruition, almost a lifetime later, at the other side of the world.  Where I now currently call home.  Australia. 
I suppose there are many places where you could have the quintessential road trip.  Across Route 66, following in Kerouac”s footsteps from Chicago to California.  There is also the Pacific Coast drive, on the west coast of the US.  Taking in the Big Sur, beloved of Steinbeck, up past Portland, Oregon, onto Washington state.
Port Douglas
But for me, in my adopted home country, the east coast was the place to embark on my first camper van trip.  The romantic, idealist that resides in me would have wanted to do this trip in a grandly restored VW Kombi van.  With split windscreen etc etc etc.  But, a good friend of mine would have no doubt warned me how unreliable these Teutonic beasts could be.  And would question whether I would want to be worried about breaking down at any moment, being chase by kangaroos, or mad killers of the Wolf Creek variety.  No, you are right.  
Palm Cove – the hidden secret of FNQ
We went for the rather more modern, if less stylistic, mode of campervan transport.  Which these days is a Toyota Hiace.  But, as you will have seen from my last blog, it ticked all the boxes.  And over the next 4 weeks we were lucky enough to have experienced such highlights as:
Palm Cove – one of far north Queensland’s best kept secrets.  We ARE going back
Kuranda – via the worlds longest cable car (or gondola as they are known in Oz) – 
Port Douglas – my new “would love to live here” place



Daintree – the place for crocodile spotting.  Well, only if you have “crocodile girl” with you it seems.  I did.  She was travelling with me.

Tiny Daintree village
Cape Tribulation – quite splendid isolation.  Idyllic.  And at Cape Tribulation camp site…awesome wood fired pizzas served onsite, with cold beers to wash them down.
Mission Beach – as it says on the tin, on the beach.  With a cold XXXX.  Does it get more Australian?  Fair dinkum.
Yeppoon – emergency stop having disciovered we would have had a 10 hour drive without it.  My bad.
Halifax – admittedly not really a highlight, more of a 1 pub, 1 street, town.  But on the list due to its name 
Hervey Bay – one of the best coffees of the trip.  Believe, I tried a few.  And have you ever seen SO many mobility scooters?
Bundaberg – does it need saying?  Rum…
Airlie Beach – where we spent Xmas, and had Xmas Eve sailing and snorkelling on the Great Barrier reef.
Noosa – now famous for having no camp sites with vacancies, prompting a frantic day of driving to find our home for the night. (with a bit of schmoozing, we managed to get into a site in Mudjimba).
Coolum beach – just beautiful.  And worth repeating.  Beautiful.  Oh yeah, and a damn good latte.
Having dropped the van in Brisbane, via a few toll roads (which would come back to haunt us), the trip continued by good old buses, with us having the relative luxury of real rooms at night, with a real bed.
Brisbane – New Years Eve fireworks, and very good change from Sydney, albeit on a much smaller scale
Surfers Paradise – for just being Surfers.
Byron Bay – notable for being awesome, as Byron always is, and for the magic powers of the alcohol that doesn’t manage to get you drunk.  Until you wake up in bed with a kebab, and wonder how you, and it, got there.  You know who you are.

Selling “magic” beer
And how better to end the travelling experience than to take the overnight, 13 hour, bus journey back into Sydney.  There weren’t many smiles in my travelling party of two, when the driver announced the 3.30am meal stop at a road house.  At which everybody would have to be off the bus so the driver could secure it.
Maybe chugging into Sydney, over the Harbour Bridge, on a glorious morning, at 7.30am, was not the best time to reflect on the whole journey.  But with the benefit of a good rest, a proper nights sleep, I think it was unanimously declared a success.  And something that has to be repeated.
So now, camper van trip remains on the bucket list.  Next venue?  New Zealand perhaps.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie…oi, oi oi

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My dad wrote a porno.  I didn’t think I would ever write those words.  Well you wouldn’t would you? If your dad hailed from the northern extremities of Scotland.  All the way from Buckie, on the Moray Firth coast.  And yet this is how I start the blog.  Why, you may wonder?
Well, this month, a friend of mine put me onto the podcast of the very same name.  And I can’t tell you how deranged I have looked since, hysterically laughing out loud on the commute home from a staid day in the office.  This is when you can justifiably use the acronym “lol” when instant messaging your mates about it.  
It is not the “erotic” content of the book.  It is so far removed from erotic to be laughable.  Literally.  It is more “50 Shades of an old perv’s mind”, than the Christian Grey variety.  The podcast takes the form of the author’s son reading a chapter, whilst getting critiqued (read, taking the piss) by a couple of his friends.  If you like typical British humour, of the “saucy seaside postcard” variety.  Download a few episodes.   Just don’t blame me if the men in white coats come to cart you off the bus, due to your inability to stop inanely giggling in public places.
Talking of “50 Shades”, and old pervs, it has been quite a month since we bade farewell to my old mate Steve.  I’m glad to hear he is able to stave off poverty for a while longer, now that he has again found himself gainful employment.  Your retirement plans will need to go on the back burner for now squire.  But on the plus side, you will be able to treat yourself to a more sumptuous breakfast than sliced toast and tea.
And for me?  I have given notice to end my experiment with employment as a permanent member of staff.  It seems it did not sit well with me.  All the internal politics, and associated brouhaha.  And so, I will imminently be returning to the contract (freelance) market.  Something that I am very excited at the prospect of.
I will be taking up a 6 month contract, back into IT project management with one of the smaller banks here in Australia.  I will be starting at the outset of a 2 year programme, so hopefully, I will get my head down, make an impression, and I will have work beyond the initial 6 months.  If not, there are plenty of items on the travel bucket list, just screaming out to be attended to.
The other significant news this month is that I have now completed, and had approved, my application for Australian citizenship.  Along with the reams of bureaucratic paperwork all these things demand, it also entailed sitting a citizenship test, which was passed in quicker time than it took me to just tell you about it.  Twenty questions, multiple choice, with just a few wriggly ones in there.  I now know what a wattle is.  And the colours of the Torres Strait Islanders flag. This knowledge alone should hold me in good stead for the future.
All that remains now is the formality of an official ceremony, which is likely to be some time early in the new year.  This is the final step before I can get my Aussie passport.  I will no doubt devote more time on my whole road to citizenship, since arriving in 2012, in a future post.
A jacaranda in full bloom
Since we last spoke, spring has well and truly sprung.  The clocks have changed.  The trees have started blossoming.  My beloved jacaranda trees are once again in full bloom.  And walking through the Botanic Gardens early one Sunday morning recently, you couldn’t escape the unmistakeable aroma of eucalyptus.  Without doubt the one smell that I immediately associate with my new home.
And with the spring, comes the warmer months, and thoughts of summer, and xmas.  After being on the road in Australia for last two December 25, this year I will be celebrating my birthday at home, with friends and family.  Having been warned that my guests enjoy a tipple or two, I can no longer close the cupboard doors for wine and beer bottles. Keep this to yourself, but I have had to resort to hiding the good stuff. Anybody know where I can buy Fosters in Sydney?

For the day itself, Xmas, I live in hope that Sydney smiles down on me.  The two years that I have spent at home since arriving in 2012 have been dampened by the ubiquitous Sydney rainfall.  Grand plans of champagne and picnic on the beach, sporting ridiculous xmas hats,  were washed away. This year I am hoping all will be different.  The weather.  I’m not sure about the hats.

Ubud, Bali
But before then, we have a holiday to Bali.  In November.  This trip will be to Ubud, a place I have not visited in over 16 years.  I am sure the once quaint little town, quietly hidden away amongst the rice paddy fields, in the centre of Bali, has changed immeasurably.  In some part as a result of Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir, “Eat, Pray, Love”, which resulted in half of America descending on Ubud, in the same way that Rome, and all the ashrams in India benefitted (suffered?).  
If I can find time to put down my piña colada, and book(s), I will dedicate my next blog post to the trip.

Until then, adios amigos.

What has been happening through Autumn?

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So many things seem to have happened since we last spoke that it is hard to think where to begin.  If i was a better write than I am I would write in a nonlinear fashion, dropping crumbs all over, then bringing them all together at the end.  Like a literary masterpiece.  However, you don’t have Hemingway.  You have me.


In the spirit of seeing as much as we can, within Australia, a couple of weeks ago we took an early mark from work, and headed downtown, to our usual car hire place, and from there headed off to Kangaroo Valley.  Somewhere new.  For a couple of nights.


In Friday afternoon traffic, Kangaroo Valley is almost 3 hours south of Sydney, in an area called Shoalhaven.  We have been down this part of the world previously, having once spent a great weekend in Jervis Bay with friends.  Kangaroo Valley is a little further inland, through the picture postcard village of Berry.  And if you know of Berry, you know of the “Famous Donut Van” in Berry.  Needless to say, we got ourselves acquainted.


Talking of “famous” food outlets, Kangaroo Valley has it’s own.  Not wanting to be outdone, there is the “World Famous Pie” shop, something I was not going to miss.  And my oh my.  The pie was outstanding.  Best I have ever had.  Period.  If it wasn’t for the pre-holiday health kick I am about to embark on, I would have brought enough home to fill up the freezer.



Despite the name of our home for the weekend, ironically, we saw very few kangaroos.  Not as many as we see when we visit our favourite spot in the countryside, Mudgee.  I had been teased with the prospect of seeing wombats in the wild, but despite trying to make myself invisible, and wait for them to come out in the evening, the reclusive little blighters never showed their cute, fat little faces.


Our accommodation was a perfect little cottage, called “The Hammock”, with an open fire that we got roaring in the evening.  The temperature drops a lot when the sun goes down, and when I saw the open fireplace I was in my element.  I am not sure what it is about fire, but getting it started becomes an obsession.  Then keeping it going becomes hypnotic.  Hearing the fire crackle, feeling the heat, watching the flames, with the alcoholic effects of a few large, full bodied, glasses of red wine (bought from the local winery, some 20 minutes from the cottage) it was a heavenly evening.



We were soon back in the real world, back in the city life, so why not make the most of it. As we had been away so recently, we decided to remain closer to home for the Easter break, and instead booked one of our famous city “staycations”.  We seem to be getting around most of the hotels in Sydney, and Easter saw us staying at the Old Clare Hotel, in Chippendale.  On the site of the old Carlton and United brewery.  For UK readers, it is where your Fosters lager used to come from.  The area has gone, and is going, through massive regeneration, and is fasting becoming one of the places to be in Sydney.


The hotel is on Kensington St which has become a restaurant hot spot, which also incorporates “Spice Alley”, a fascinating blend of old and new, housing numerous excellent Asian eateries.  Definitely worth a visit, if not an overnight stay, if you are in the neighbourhood.



And with all the eating and drinking that has been occurring, virtually non stop since Christmas, there has been the inevitable addition of a few pounds around the waistline.  If you love food and fine wine as much as I do, who said bon vivant?, you will know that it is not a one way street.  You have to put the effort in to keep from blowing up like the Michelin man.


I continue with my gym work, and weekly 5 a side run out, but have added something else to my repertoire.  Dynamic Pilates.  Yup, you heard right, I have started doing pilates.  The kind where you lay on what looks like a torture bed.  Or something you may have read about in 50 Shades of Grey.  All springs and straps.  With less pleasure.  I’m assuming about the pleasure, of course, having had no experience of anything you may have read in any of EL James’s “best sellers”.


It is amazing how fast an hour passes when doing pilates, focussing the mind, breathing in tune to the exercises, compared to time spent on the treadmill in the gym.  I’m not afraid to say I loathe running.  Unless it is on a football pitch.  Running, for runnings sake is not what i was created for.  And the time I spend knocking out a few kms on the treadmill seems to drag in comparison.


That said, needs must. So, for the next few weeks, my aim is to shift my “winter coat”, in time for my European summer.  Alcohol canned (which means abstention, not drinking tinnies) for a month.  Exercise upped for the month.  And no treats in between (after I have eaten all my Easter chocolate).

Wish me luck friends.

P.S. voting in Australia is compulsory for all citizens, which now includes me of course. So this month also saw me casting my first ever vote here in Australia, in the local by election. This Yorkshire lad is already making his contribution.

P.P.S. In the last couple of weeks, the government has announced sweeping changes to how you achieve citizenship. Seems I got in just in time!

Winter in Perth

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Where does the time go?

And just like that, we have winter in Perth. I am going to say it. Where has the time gone? 3 months. Just like that. 3 months was how long I spent when I travelled solo to South America at the end of 2010. And I felt (still feel) like I was there for quite a long time. I saw so much. Met so many amazing travellers. Traversed the whole of South America, from the “end of the world”, at Ushuaia, in Patagonia, to Cartagena on the Caribbean coast, in Colombia. And so much in between.

Winter time in Perth, already. Where does the time go in Perth

So why don’t I feel that I have been in Perth half as long? Sure, the obvious answer is coronavirus. The world it has thrown us all into. Only recently being able to pop to the pub for a pint. To start exploring the excellent restaurant scene here. And to get our first trip booked back to the magnificent Margaret River wine region.

Where did those episodes go?

But that aside, the simple fact is that I am still adjusting. This is normal, right? Moving 4,000kms. To a new city. In the middle of a global pandemic gives me some latitude I’m sure. It feels a little like listening to your favourite LP, on an actual record player. For those of us that remember them. And the record must be scratched because the needle has just jumped from a very familiar part of the tune. Jumped quite a lot. So now, you are not sure where you are. Nothing seems familiar. There is a big chunk missing. 

If you were streaming your favourite show on Netflix (an analogy you younger readers can appreciate), and missed a couple of episodes, you would be wondering who all these new people were. What happened to the storyline? How did we get here?

And this is how it feels. For me anyway. All that I was familiar with has gone. I no longer know what the plot is? How this part of the story is supposed to go.

Rome wasn’t built in a day

What I do know is that these things take time. Big life events. In the way that Rome wasn’t built in a day, changes of this magnitude take some getting used to. It’s not as though you go to sleep in one city, wake up in another, and everything carries on just as before. Over the last 8 years I built up a lot of social capital whilst living in Sydney. Overnight, that balance was reduced to zero. I had to start rebuilding.

And rebuilding isn’t always easy. It took time in Sydney to find that favourite coffee shop. The Thai restaurant that you went to every single week because the food was THAT good. Finding a “Bistecca alla Fiorentina” to rival the one you had in Florence wasn’t easy. But you did it. 

Bistecca alla Fiorentina, in Florence
The original, in Florence, Italy

Have I ever mentioned coffee to you?

Talking of Italy, have I ever mentioned to you that I enjoy good coffee? Having tried dozens, literally, of coffee shops in Perth, I have found myself almost universally disappointed. How hard can it be to make a good strong coffee? My beverage of choice is a small double shot latte? My order was simply “strong latte, please”, and I invariably got what I wanted. Simple order. Simple to make. In the days when I owned an Italian espresso machine at home I could knock these bad boys out for fun.

A strong latte, in Sydney, hard to find in winter in Perth
The original, Sydney

Judging by some of the concoctions I have been served to date, fun is the last thing I am having. Thank the lord for “Engine Room Espresso” in North Perth, and Mike of “Cravings”, here in East Perth. Two beacons of hope in a coffee wasteland. In Perth, barista seems to be a very loose term. Usually meaning those that are closest to the coffee machine, rather than the skilled occupation that it is.

Coffee aside, life is taking on a regular cadence now. Up early for a brisk morning walk around the water, dolphin spotting, before returning so Vik can start work, at home. We have a mid morning walk, to run the coffee gauntlet, and at lunch we take an extended walk along the Swan River. As mentioned previously, our step count is off the scale at the moment. Which soothes my guilty mind as we munch on our evening Tim Tam, or my freshly baked scones.

Winter in Perth, no better time for baking scones

Hunting down the best food in Perth

The last few weekends have seen us back on the foodie scene. A welcome return. A fabulous meal at Balthazar the other week was followed up with an equally excellent dinner at Andaluz in the city last week. With it being winter in Perth, and with the colder days drawing in, we have dropped below the 20s now, we had our first Sunday roast this weekend. 

The Rose and Crown, in the heritage village of Guildford, is reputed to be Australia’s second oldest pub. Advertising the “best Sunday roast in WA”, we got ourselves along and tried it for ourselves. Oh my. Are we glad we did. With a choice of pork and crackle, or beef, the rest of the plate was made up of a very large Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower cheese, roast potatoes, swede, and gravy.

Winter in Perth is the best time to hunt down the best roast in WA
Lunch is served

It was delicious. One of the best we have had for a very long time. My ex-pat friends here in Australia will tell you that it is not easy to come by Yorkshire puddings. The meal was complemented by a smooth, full bodied bottle of Syrah from the Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia. A delicious drop. 

Start of a new week

Today is Monday, and as is our wont, we will be abstaining from alcohol through the week, making the weekend even more pleasurable. I have finished my WSET Level 1 wine course, which removes any excuse I had for “course related tastings” through the week. We shall revert to copious amounts of Yorkshire Tea in the evenings, as we work our way through the new season of Billions, with the odd episode of Masterchef thrown in for gastronomic inspiration. 

So, the 3 month mark in Perth brings us to the mid way point of 2020. A year that is turning out to be very different to the one we, and everyone else in the world, expected. We have the winter solstice this weekend, marking the day with the least amount of daylight hours. Meaning we will leave winter in Perth behind and begin the downward slope towards summer, and hopefully sunnier days, not just literally, but metaphorically. 

As I write, Australia’s borders are still closed, and our state border here in WA is also closed to any Australian from our other states. In effect, we are currently our own nation, here in Western Australia. It is hoped, by both the Prime Minister, and both of us, that Mark McGowan re-opens our borders within the next couple of months, by which time the Australian borders may also be opened up. This will pave the way for us to start replanning our Grand Tour, and finally getting on the road.

It will be time to find those missing episodes, and discover the life that we have skipped over.

Reflecting on 2020, the almost year

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The almost, but not quite year

Let’s just get the obvious out of the way. 2020 was not the year we all had planned. Not the year any of us could have predicted. And definitely not the year the world wanted, or needed.

A global pandemic. People’s lives turned upside down. Life plans decimated. Large parts of the world having to suffer through tough lockdown periods. It was unprecedented, the amount of times the word “unprecedented” was rolled out. 

But how else to describe the year that was 2020? It truly was an annus horribilis.

And yet…

Gratitude and Positivity

I hear a lot of tales of positivity as people reflected on the year. People learned to slow down a little. Had time to reconnect with loved ones. Started to appreciate the simple things in life. Walks in nature. Home cooking. I mastered home made scones! Less time commuting to work. For some people, in parts of the world, the commute stopped completely. Work from home became a full time occupation.  Dare I say it, the new normal.

Learning to make scones through a pandemic in Perth 2020
High tea is served

Ironically, this brought unexpected consequences. It turns out that people used the commute time to read. Listen to podcasts. Think. It gave a lot of people that elusive white space so often missing in our busy lives.

Suddenly, this time, our time, was lost. The new commute was from the bedroom to the living room. We had no transition from home to office. The home was the office. Many people found themselves working longer. Pausing less. Becoming more sedentary. Missing their old nemesis, the commute, something I wrote about.

Starting 2020 with a sense of optimism

But this was all to come. At the start of the year nobody had any inclination of what was ahead. We started 2020 in Mudgee, New South Wales. A quiet weekend in wine country, looking ahead to what was to be an exciting year. Using the first three months of the year to finalise our plans to sell what we could of our possessions, and pack up the rest, and leave Sydney. Embarking on a long term sojourn across the globe.

Saying goodbye to home in Mosman

A plan that was a couple of years in the making, it was suddenly almost upon us. We had talked about which was the best week to resign from our jobs. When to give the notice on our rental apartment. And when to book our first flight into Asia.

As we neared the end of March, we had resigned, and said our goodbyes. We packed up the apartment and moved all our possessions into storage. And we were homeless, staying in a hotel when we found out that Australia was closing the international borders. Like dominoes, other countries followed suit, and suddenly our world became very small.

With no jobs, nowhere to live, and only a backpack, we made a snap decision. I pulled out my phone and booked a couple of seats on a plane leaving for Perth the day after. We were moving to Western Australia (WA), arriving only 2 days before WA closed all the internal borders, effectively creating an island within an island.

En route from Sydney to Perth, in a pandemic in 2020, the almost year
En route for the next (unplanned) adventure

Moving to Perth in a pandemic

This proved to be one of the best decisions we have ever made. At the time of writing, WA has not had a locally transmitted case of COVID for over 9 months. Life, fortunately, has carried on largely as normal. In the first couple of weeks after we arrived, whilst bouncing around Air BnBs, we could only get takeaway food and drinks. 

But not long after, life returned, and for the best part of the year we have been enjoying a life not seen much outside of WA. For those not familiar with the size of West Australia, it is 975,000 square miles, with a population of only 2.6 million. That is a lot of space to explore. Not difficult to social distance.

Little hobos on the move again, through the year that almost was, 2020, Perth
The little hobos, on the move

And we have taken as much advantage as we possibly can, exploring lots of this beautiful part of the world. On our doorstep we have the wine country of Swan Valley and the Perth Hills, visiting both. A little under 3 hours away we have the magnificent Margaret River region, where we have already spent numerous long weekends, trying to get around as many of the 200+ vineyards as possible. And we have had staycations in Perth, the vibrant port city of Fremantle, and the beautiful Rottnest Island.

On the move again, through a pandemic in Perth 2020
Here we go again

How to be productive in a pandemic

In the early days of our arrival in Perth I naively thought that we would sit out the virus, and be heading off overseas within a couple of months. I filled this time productively, studying for my WSET (Wine and Spirits Education Trust) Level 1 qualification, and also becoming an accredited mental health first aider (MHFA). Very different, but both very fascinating subjects to learn more about.

When I took my head out of the sand, I realised that we were not travelling anywhere anytime soon, and reluctantly found myself a full time job. This provided another example of the best in people. How people rally around and help. There were numerous people, many who didn’t know me, happy to get on the phone with me as I searched for a new role in Perth. I am thankful to each and every one of them for their kindness, help, and support through a difficult time.

The outcome was that I got a 6 month contract. And I was lucky enough to get a renewal for this just before xmas which means that I now have work through to June of this year. Beyond that? I daren’t plan, as the world has shown us about the “best laid plans”, and all that. What does give me hope is the news this week that Qantas have resumed selling international flights from July 1. Definite green shoots that give me cause for optimism,

Perth city skyline

Both our jobs started out with working from home, but as normality returned, the offices reopened and now we have a happy hybrid of splitting our work week between home and the city. An arrangement that really suits how I like to work.

When a house becomes a home

With work came the need for somewhere longer term to live, and after 6 months in an apartment in East Perth, we found a perfect little cottage in a suburb called Mt Hawthorn. A suburb that is very reminiscent of where we lived in Sydney, which was Mosman. Streets lined with old style cottages. Many bars, cafes (with great coffee) and restaurants. And only 10 minutes into the city for work. We definitely landed on our feet.

Moving to Perth, through a pandemic, in 2020
When a house is a home from day 1

For the first time in over a decade I live in a house. We have an actual front door and both a front and back garden. Having always wanted a couple of Adirondack chairs, they now sit pride of place in the back garden, close enough to the BBQ so I can quickly flip my steaks when needed. A small table between the two chairs completes this idyllic picture, holding our glasses of wine. A covered patio area is where our new bicycles live. 

And we finally transported all our belongings from storage in Sydney, bringing to an end the “living out of a backpack” phase of our Perth adventure.

Victoria supervising

Perth is very bike friendly, being largely flat, and having a great network of bike paths. Weekends we can head off towards the Swan River with a picnic of egg mayonnaise sandwiches, a couple of pork pies, and a bottle of wine. Does life get any better than that?

So, whilst we have all lived through a crazy year, we have been very fortunate to have spent it here in WA.

Even in crazy years, where events are not what we expected, a lot of the time it is how we respond to the events. As the saying goes, “when life gives you lemons.”

Reflecting on what I hoped for in 2020

I started the year, fully expecting to be a full time nomad, embracing my love of travel writing. I set a lofty ambition to get at least one travel article published. With overseas travel off the cards, I switched my focus to get at least one piece of writing published. 

And I was very pleased to win second prize in a freelance writing contest, with a short story about the future of work. I won $350, which was beyond anything I expected. This gave me great confidence in my writing and as we enter 2021, my focus switches back to getting a travel article published. 

On the professional front, I finally got my coaching journey started. September saw me joining a great bunch of leaders from across Asia as we embarked on a virtual 3 day training course by the Institute of Executive Coaching and Leadership. With the follow on activities completed, and a successful assignment, I became a certified coach at the start of November. I enjoy this work so much that I have already enrolled in Level 2, starting in March.

Learning in a pandemic, the year the almost was, 2020
Step 1 on my long coaching journey

Our regular pilates and yoga practice has taken a back seat since we relocated to Perth. With everything that has been going on we just haven’t got around to joining a new studio. Typical of the world we now live in, I have been checking out virtual alternatives. I would love to hear of any recommendations that you have. Of the ones I have looked at so far, “Glo” seems to get the best reviews. Are there any others that you recommend?

Daring to look ahead to 2021

I am not one for making new year’s resolutions, but do look ahead to the year and consider both what changes I want to make, and what I would like to achieve. And as with every year, I start this one wanting to shed a little of the xmas weight. We have just had an epic 2 week road trip up the west coast of Australia, and I ate and drank everything in sight. The body will get a shock as I lock the booze cabinet, hide the chocolates, and get back on the treadmill.

This year I also hope that we can finally fly overseas and start our travelling. We are not making any plans for this, at the moment, other than continuing to save money. I have a natural reflection point as my current work contract expires in June. This will give the opportunity to assess the state of the world, the success of the various vaccines, and the likelihood of us being able to travel through countries without being quarantined anywhere.

Last, but certainly not least, this is the year I leave my 40s and enter my 50s. Quite a milestone, I am sure you will agree. And for a few years I have been putting some pennies aside for the big occasion. The “plan” is to travel on the Eastern & Oriental Express. 3 days of luxury, travelling the rails between Singapore and Bangkok. With all the Belmond Orient Express journeys currently paused, it is hard to say when this will happen. But I remain committed to it being a “when”, and not an “if”.

Putting the spectre of 2020 behind us, what are you hoping for in 2021?