As long as can remember I have been fascinated with travelling. With what lies beyond. With what is around the corner, in the next suburb, the rest of the country and of course across the globe! I have suffered with FOMO from an early age. Before the age of the internet I remember reading the papers and watching television coverage of how the world celebrated the coming of the new year. And feeling an urge to see what it was like to be somewhere else. How did people live their lives, what did they eat, what spectacular scenery did they visit on their holidays and what did it feel like to wander their streets.

I so clearly remember my first big trip away on my own, with a uni friend, to Sydney, from little old Adelaide. It was so big, and different, and busy and exciting! Who knew it was so different! My first adventure overseas was to Hawaii to watch my boyfriend (now hubby) compete in the Hawaiian Ironman World Championships. Three weeks in paradise! I never wanted to return home (despite suffering some anxiety at being so far away from my little comfort zone)! After working and saving every sent I could, I could not shake the feeling that there was more for me out there. So we took the plunge, moved out of our rented flat, I quit my job and we took off on a six month adventure. South America, Europe, India and Nepal. On a shoestring budget. Countless uncomfortable overnight bus trips, endless stomach bugs, altitude sickness, tenting through Europe and eating the cheapest thing we could find at the supermarket. But the scenery! The colours! The culture! The people! The festivals! The food! It was worth every cent and every trying moment. Returning home was HARD! Time passed. We married, bought a house, tried to settle. But the pull of the world was too strong. So we rented our house, packed up all our belongings and moved to London. Telling ourselves we would stay for 9 months and then take 9 months to travel home. Summers came and went. We’ll stay just one more summer! Six years later the heart breaking decision to return home. I was missing the blue skies, the sunshine, my family. A place to decorate, to feel settled and unpack our belongings. My niece and nephew were growing up before I had time to really meet them. But I so loved my London lifestyle, my friends who had become family, the endless adventures, both in London and abroad. The theatre, the parks. It was the first place and I had every felt I really fit in. And still I miss it so! We were never going to take the direct route home. We volunteered on a husky farm in far northern Finland for two months, travelled the Trans-Siberian from Moscow to Beijing via Mongolia. Checked out southern China. Ventured through lovely Laos to India where we were to volunteer in a school in Ladakh. With a final backpacking beach break in Malaysia.

And then ‘home’. But as I soon discovered, once you have ventured so far ‘home’ can be a very hard place to find. We stayed in Sydney for three years but the old girl just didn’t seem to like us. Pregnant with our first child we once again packed it all in (swearing we would never do it again!) and headed to Bali for a few months of bliss. Working, adventuring, relaxing and soaking up the serene island vibes (oh and the hectic Bali traffic!). Then back to Australia to find a home in Byron Bay and prepare for life’s biggest adventure. The arrival of our little sidekick, and the end of life as we knew it!

I have been so blessed to travel the world, to live in different countries and make new friends from far and wide. I will be honest though, I sometimes feel this is both a blessing and a curse. Such is the life of a traveller. Eternal itchy feet, an inability to settle down, a feeling that perhaps I should be living somewhere else. And now that I am a mother the pull of both putting down roots, having a settled lifestyle, making local friends, creating a home and an atmosphere that my daughter can feel is her own. And continuing to fuel the passion that makes me feel alive, and sharing that with my littlest love. For in her I can see both sides of me. A yearning for comfort and closeness and familiarity. But also that spark that makes her want to explore and adventure. To run along the beach with no abandon and never look back. Or peek around the corner just to see what’s there. In my short time as a mumma I have learnt to take things one day at a time. One adventure at a time. So for now, that is what we will do. Travelling and adventuring when we can. And making up the rest as we go along!