Australia Part six: At least once in a lifetime…Sydney!

“Look, there’s people walking on top of the bridge”,

Bec says. I squint and, through the golden strings of the setting sun, the super tiny, black mannequins up on the Harbour Bridge in Sydney start to move.

I can’t believe it.

I simply can’t. I can’t believe, that contrary to other travel lists, on mine, Sydney was not very present. I actually can’t even remember, why. Why am I here, then? Well, because my flight to Central America is going from here. Pretty low argument, huh?!

But now, I am definitely in Sydney, leaning on the metal railing, the Harbour Bridge in front of me, the Opera House to my right, its white orange-peel like shape gleaming in a golden light, giving this building even more mystic volume. It’s sunset. And it’s just overwhelming to be here.

And even better: I am with friends 🙂

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Australia Part Four: Byron Bay

First of all – I found it!

It has been a bit like searching the needle in the hay. There’ve been moments, when I thought it was hopeless and I was going to leave Australia sooner, than planned (not that I had a deadline, but three weeks would have been very short). I thought it was maybe me, just wanting too much, being too picky, or – even worse – not able to enjoy travelling any more. It took me many hours of wandering around, from place to place, of worrying and being in this „man, what’s wrong here?“-mode.

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Australia Part Three: Happy New Year, Brisbane!

How I feel

in that moment, when I am standing at the rooftop terasse of my hostel in Brisbane, my arms leaning over the cold metal ceiling, my shiny eyes staring at the fireworks that announce the new year and are supposed to abandon all bad ghosts of the old one, is just very, very hard to describe. With every golden-glittering sparkle, that floats in never-ending silky lines from the black sky all the way down to the river, where it’s gently being reflected, an endless row of goosebumps evolves all over my skin – and it’s definitely not cold.

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Australia Part Two: Where’s the (Surfers) Paradise?

It’s right before Christmas.

We’re on our way to a city named nothing less than “Surfers Paradise”. I know that it won’t be the tiny cute, hippie-flaired village I was dreaming about (thanks for the warning, Google). But still, I see Anja and me going for a surf in the morning, taking walks through the nice city center, relaxing in hammocks through the day and being sourrounded by heaps of nice and chilled people, who would celebrate through the holidays with us.


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Australia Part One: The (Mel)bourne Identity

I wake up, not really knowing where I am.

Confused, a bit panicked, I squint around me, trying to figure out what had happened. Ah, yeah, plane. I am sitting in a plane. Middle row, middle seat. It’s loud. It’s dark. My mouth is dry like the desert. People around me are snoring or staring on their touchscreens, half-asleep or at least hypnotized, slowly bringing one cracker after another to their mouths. I feel the need to make sure that I didn’t slobber on my seat neighbors shoulder. No, no stains. At least nothing visible. Would be too late, anyway. I can hardly believe what just happened: I fell asleep in a plane. For longer than just one minute. Me, who is still suffering from this “I get wet hands and say silent prayers every time it gets a bit bumpy” kind of flight anxiety, even after many years of travelling. How could that happen?

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