Hello, and welcome back to this long-overdue blog post. I’d love to say I’ve been too busy journaling and soul searching under waterfalls to write weekly updates during my overseas adventures, but the real truth is, I’ve mostly been sweaty, sunburnt, sleep deprived, and slightly buzzed. Blogging weekly? I was getting ahead of myself. But I meant well.
Still, despite the exhaustion, every night I fell asleep with a full heart and a huge smile, because there were always new streets to wander, strangers to smile at, and strange street food to try. And as I closed my eyes, one thought always found its way in: “The world is so big, and I am so small. And so are my worries.”
Travel has a way of popping that invisible anxiety bubble we carry—gently, then violently. It’s not that I saw worse problems and felt better about mine. It’s that discomfort that stretches you. Not understanding what language you’re hearing, what coin you’re tipping with, or what direction the sun sets in (though Luka could probably tell me), it shakes things loose. And in between the beauty and the chaos, I saw how love and hate, joy and grief, exist side by side in every culture. They don’t vanish when you hop on a plane. They follow us because they’re human.
Being uncomfortable was the most important part of this journey. In the words of my all-time favorite food and travel enthusiast, Anthony Bourdain:
“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you… You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.”
Part I: Australia — Tim Tams, Roo Mobs & Rock Pools
After a cozy 24 hours of airplane meals, stiff necks, and watching six movies in a row, Luka and I finally touched down in Melbourne, Australia, on January 23, 2025. Day one of our Great Escape™ had officially begun.
The skies were moody and grey, but the air was warm—and so was the welcome from Luka’s Aunt and Uncle, who introduced me to my first “cuppa” (that’s Aussie for tea or coffee, for my fellow Americans). We spent a few days catching up with family, swapping stories, debating politics, drinking beers, and eating.
Then we headed to their family beach house in Blairgowrie, a dreamy little coastal town that sounds like it belongs in a fantasy novel. Picture this: warm, crystal-clear ocean water, three cuppas a day, too many Tim Tams to count, and no clue what time it is. Bliss.
Next up: a drive two hours inland to a tiny countryside town called Maldon. First order of business? Meat pies and vanilla slice from a cozy little café. (Australians don’t mess around when it comes to dessert.) We walked through eucalyptus-scented trails, where I saw my first kangaroo troupe. These guys are like the love child of a deer, a jackrabbit, and a CrossFit instructor—completely bizarre and totally mesmerizing.
The house we stayed in was something out of a dream. One morning, as I sipped my coffee, a mob of mom kangaroos and their joeys casually grazed right outside, no biggie.
After the calm of Maldon, we returned to Melbourne for a night out with Luka’s cousins and friends. Because no family trip is complete without at least one questionable, slightly embarrassing, overly boozy night out.
And let me just say, rock pools alone are reason enough to move to Australia. These giant, turquoise tide pools sit off the beach like secret swimming coves, filled with fish that forgot to leave when the tide went out. Magical. Peaceful. Felt just like H2O.
In total, we spent just eight days in Australia, and they flew by, but I fell in love with it...hard. Maybe I was in the honeymoon phase of travelling, or maybe because something about Australia reminded me of my home in Santa Cruz: sun-kissed beach blonde hair, casual barefoot living, and boardshorts treated like formalwear.
