After 5 months in New Zealand and 3 weeks in Australia I was back at home, and after a week the depression kicked in. A lot of things became clear to me. Travel does that to you, changes you without you realising, so that when you come home you feel unsettled and unsatisfied and you dont Continue reading “The Longest Summer”
After a 19 hour overnight coach journey from Byron Bay, I finally arrive in Sydney at 7am and check into the Zing hostel in King’s Cross. Everyone in my dorm room is fast asleep and the room smells like hangover and feet so I head out to explore. Beside Town Hall, in the CBD (which, I eventually Continue reading “Falling in love with Sydney…and the bittersweet reality of travel romance”
“Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is … Continue reading ‘Travel is….’ by Nick Miller
My friend Yoan and I arrive in Auckland in the wee hours of the morning after a hellishly long flight, three hours later than scheduled. Amazingly, in the arrivals hall, we spot someone holding a sign with our names on it. Merrit, who is from Estonia, has shock red hair and looks in need of a good Continue reading “The (pretty disastrous) start to my New Zealand Adventure: Fat Cat Fun Part 1, Welcome to Hippyville”
The allure of far away, exotic places has obsessed me for as long as I can remember. I don’t know where this fixation with travel came from, neither of my parents have much interest in travel. My childhood family holidays consisted of long, boring weeks in cold, damp holiday cottages in Continue reading “The Beginning”
‘Your problem’, he says, ‘is you’re never satisfied’
He is sat on the balcony, rolling a cigarette. He’s got that pained, far away look on his face. The one I hate.
He says it in French, the only language we speak together because all my Continue reading “Your Problem”