In an unassuming pocket of Indooroopilly, the western suburb of Brisbane that has transformed into a hub for shoppers alike, you will find Nantucket Kitchen and Bar. Hidden beneath the canopy of tropical trees, I escaped from the searing humidity and entered the restaurant through its pristine white doors.
…
The valley was blanketed by a thick mist. Blue glacier-water trickled down the side of the mountain, gradually transforming into a bubbling stream. It looked beautiful against the light silvery rocks. To listen more clearly, I inhaled deeply and held my breath. As I observed the pitter-patter of the rain and a bird’s distant melody, I was increasingly aware of my solitude. In front of me stood a mountain engulfed in clouds and century-year-old ice, Franz Josef Glacier. Although it was the peak of summer and only a few kilometres away from the beach, the unmelted ice was shining blue with the cold. Exhaling deeply, I smiled.
It was surreal, almost dream-like. Who would have ever anticipated that I would close the end of a year in New Zealand? Certainly not I.
…
He was standing beside the taxi. In one hand he held his suitcase, in the other, he held my waist. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I coarsely said goodbye. “I want to be your husband one day!” he said as he wiped the salt water from my cheeks. He looked torn, neither of us wanted him to go. Lifting my chin to his, he delicately kissed my lips before entering the cab. I stood on the footpath watching as the car disappeared down the street. I was alone, again.
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It was early, too early. The rising sun peered from the horizon, splashing the sky with rays of pink and orange. The bird’s melodies escaped from the trees in a small symphony, I shivered drawing my blanket closer. As bees foraged the newly blossomed flowers, a cool breeze caressed my cheeks in greeting. I smiled happily. It is Spring.
There is something about this season that resonates with me. I’m not sure why….
From the first floury crunch of the sand beneath my toes, every detail of Byron Bay was a treasured moment for the soul.
The sounds of the ocean played the cords of my heart strings as I was transported to memories of my childhood. The laughter of seagulls flying overhead, the distant murmur of the waves crashing against the shore and texture of the weathered rocks was familiar. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath to savour the moment. The perfume from the damp eucalyptus trees and native flora teased my senses. My memory was flooded with sensations. It was overwhelming – everything seemed so familiar and yet so foreign.
After 11 months I have returned to Australia, my home….
Echoing with the sound of thunder, a wave collided with the cliffs below; loose rocks tumbled away from the jagged walls like stale breadcrumbs. My lips quivered under it’s power, or was it the ground trembling beneath my aching feet? In exhaustion, I questioned my ability to continue walking; we had now walked over 210km with a few days remaining. The wind tousled my hair and sea-spray caressed my cheeks in encouragement. …
What I adore about the internet is the accessibility to knowledge, and the ability to connect with so many talented individuals.
When I stumbled upon Loknesse’s website, The Missing Lokness, I was completely smitten with her photographs, her recipe’s and blog posts. There was something about her work that resonated with me; I had to meet her! I summoned the courage and emailed her asking for her time; to my gratitude, she agreed. …
The sun bounced through the windows blanketing the room with a gentle light. Standing behind the view-finder of my camera, I gazed in awe at the dish presented in-front of me. The bruschetta sat proudly on the plate staring back at me, its shoulders cloaked by a thin layer of quivering mozzarella. I hesitated glancing between my camera and the plate. It was dishevelled but in its simplicity, the burschetta was entirely irresistible. …
I collapsed onto the wooden chair with a heavy sigh, my feet were fatigued. We had walked from Taormina to a quaint town perched on the cliffs above, Castelmola. Beneath a medieval church in Piazza Chiesa Madre, we discovered a small restaurant and ordered lunch. I savoured the sun’s warm rays on my neck while watching two lovers at the adjacent table. Interrupting my gaze, the waiter placed our entrée on the table, bruschetta.
I lifted the thick toast to my lips and took a bite. The bread crunched beneath my teeth. My neck lunged forward trying to catch the crumbs from falling; it is impossible to eat this dish gracefully. Pieces of tomato flesh, seeds and juice filled my mouth, enriched by the sweet floral basil leaves. It was perfectly balanced, refreshing and completely intoxicating….
The morning air was cool and filled with the sounds of doves gently purring. I shivered pulling my jumper tighter against my body. He wrapped his warm arms around me and leant his chin on my shoulder “it’s beautiful isn’t it?” The sun was dancing on the horizon revealing Taormina below; indeed, it was breathtaking. As the sky displayed a gorgeous palette of colours, I savored the morning stillness.
Before we left France it was snowing; the days were short and I can’t quite recall the last time I felt the sunshine caress my cheeks. Our time on the Mediterranean was the heavenly break we needed. …
