Return to Wild Rose Country

When I was younger, the world was as big as my backyard. As I grew, the world grew with me. It became as big as my street, then as big as my neighbourhood, and soon as big as my home town. But it was never big enough.

I needed more. I wanted to travel.

At this time, I began to learn about Canada from my mother and grandmother. My grandfather is a Canadian, or was, because he died before I was born, and I credit him with much of my love of the country.

I grew up learning stories of his life in the great outdoors - the farm he lived on in northern Ontario, his exploits as a driver and lumberjack in a remote Canadian outpost, and the adventures he had with his brother before leaving for England to serve in the war.

Through these stories, I learned about the real Canada - not just a country with large cities like Toronto and Montreal, but a land of isolated frontier towns full of strong, resilient people living in often extreme climates. I came to know about the great outdoors. The Canadian great outdoors.

And I wanted to know more.

The Fraser River and Mount Robson.  Photo credit: Maurice Li Photography

Returning to the Canadian Rockies and, in particular, the frontier town of Jasper gives me a chance to revisit those memories from my childhood when all I wanted was to explore this country. It also gives me an opportunity to relive a journey I made eight years ago when I drove from Vancouver to Ottawa with my wife, two dogs and three houseplants (the plants never made it past Winnipeg).

Back then, we stayed in Jasper for two nights before driving down the Icefields Parkway to Banff. It was a journey I'll never forget, made in the deep of winter with snow and ice covering the highway, lakes frozen, wildlife scarce. The Parkway remains forged in my memory and I'm keen to return and sight the majesty of the Rockies, even though the cloud cover sits low and the sky broods above us, threatening rain or snow, or both.

Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep.

Making our way along one of the world's greatest scenic drives, we sight black bear and big horn sheep. I've never seen bear before, even during my previous time in Canada, and it's a sight that will long stay with me.

We arrive at the Columbia Icefields and the mighty Athabasca Glacier. Pulling up next to a gigantic offroad machine that makes our small coach look puny by comparison, I wish the clouds would lift. I know there is peak upon enormous peak above us but we may as well be in a harbour fog, no sign of mountain or forested slope to the naked eye.

Still, the glacier doesn't disappoint and thirteen of the world's best travel bloggers and photographers sip on the coldest and freshest water imaginable from the melt of a glacier that will be gone in less than a hundred years.

The poignancy of the moment isn't lost on us.

Glacier walking.  Photo credit: Maurice Li Photography

Over the next few days, we're treated to a smorgasbord of outdoor delights.

We whitewater raft down the Fraser River in the shadow of Mount Robson, alone amongst the Class III rapids, with only nature and the sound of rushing water as our trusted companions.

We ride the tramway up into the alpine tundra of Jasper National Park seated high above the town below. The weather defeats us once again yet we sense the presence of towering mountains around us, our insignificance in the grand scheme of things continuing to grow.

We dine like kings and queens at the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge. A room with a view understates the impressiveness of what we spy outside the restaurant window, snow-laden evergreens ranging off into the distance as far as the eye can see.

In the grounds of the Jasper Fairmont Park lodge.  Photo credit: Maurice Li Photography

It's the end of Spring and the cold remains.

For several days, the mists stay low and the temperature descends. My one regret is not taking the trip to Maligne Lake and witnessing the mystique of Spirit Island. On the first day of opening after the ice on the lake melts, our group experiences this sacred spot treasured by locals and tourists alike, while I witness the beauty by camera playback alone. It's an error of judgement but I won't let it dishearten me.

Because one day I will return.  I have to return.

I need to experience Alberta in all seasons. I need to see more of these hidden Albertan gems. I need to ski the slopes of the Rockies and explore the trails and parks far from the beaten track. My son needs to share these experiences and see the region as I see it - a small frontier town buried deep in the heart of the Canadian Rocky Mountains.

The serenity of the lakes of the Rockies.  Photo credit: Maurice Li Photography

I'll never grow tired of being here.

It's the Canada my grandfather tried to show me in my childhood dreams. A living, breathing landscape painted with elk, mountain sheep, brown bear, black bear, moose, eagle and beaver. A place of aspens, larches, pines, firs and spruce.  Of alpine lakes, ancient glaciers, cascading waterfalls and hidden mountain meadows.

I am in complete and utter awe of this place.

Thankfully, I just need to breathe.

Have you ever visited Jasper and this particular region of Alberta? Would you rate the Icefields Parkway as one of the the world's ten greatest scenic drives?

If you want to follow more of my journey across Canada, either continue to visit In Search of a Life Less Ordinary to read my blog posts or view my personal page on the Keep Exploring Canada tumblr site here. The Canadian Tourism Commission and Tourism Jasper hosted me for the Jasper leg of this cross-Canada journey.

Travel Alberta also produced a video advertising this jaw-droppingly beautiful region. They haven't asked me to share this with you but I can think of no better way to show you exactly why this land has had such an impact on me. So watch and enjoy. You won't be disappointed (especially if viewed in 'full screen').

Read more »

Tweet

The Romance of Train Travel: Crossing Canada by Rail

At 10.31pm on a typically grey and moody evening in Vancouver, the Canadian pulls slowly away from the Pacific Union station. It's a low key affair, another passenger train departing for Canada's east. Champagne is served in the last of the train's 24 carriages, the Park car, as the windows darken with the onset of night. 

The Canadian is one of VIA Rail's flagship transcontinental passenger trains and a train so iconic that, in 2013, it will be featured on Canada’s new 10-dollar bill. The Canadian is a refurbished stainless steel return to the 1950s when voyaging by train sat firmly alongside air flight as a romantic and exhilarating way to travel.

I'm skeptical that the romance of train travel remains today.

I haven't travelled by train in years and I've never crossed a country on one. I've driven, flown, sailed and bused, but I've never been lured by the prospect of train travel. VIA's management suggest we sit back and soak up the ride, relax and appreciate the experience of a slower paced form of transportation.  It's not about getting to the destination quickly, but about appreciating the beauty outside and the comforts within.

I'm willing to give it a try.

I recognise this trip will be special - the push through the Rockies to Jasper, the sweep across the Prairies to Winnipeg, and the final run into Toronto in the heart of Canada's largest province, Ontario.

Yet the first leg to Jasper doesn't start well.

I'm struck down with gastro early into the night and spend the next morning curled up in my bed, incapable of any movement or normal sentences. I'm conscious of the large numbers of elderly people onboard versus the very small percentage of passengers my own age - it feels disconcerting but not entirely unexpected. And we sleep that first night in bunk beds - cosy but not exactly superior comfort class.

Ironically, the stomach bug slows me down in the same way this train journey slows down the passage of time.

Forced to sit still and observe, I notice the environment outside my window, the seemingly endless beauty of British Columbia's interior region.

The mountain ranges fill the near horizon, white-capped peaks ringed by clouds, rivers of snow streaming down their sides. The forests are thick with all manner of enormous trees creeping right up to the edge of the train tracks, while rivers of frigid glacial water rage beside the train making its way along valleys and over mountain passes. 

The Canadian sways from side to side on the rails, a soothing sensation, but not quite a clickety clack. I sit inside the panoramic car, head back, looking up through the glass ceiling. I know I'm one of a fortunate few, lucky enough to experience this extraordinary ride.

John from Edmonton, a fellow passenger riding the Vancouver to Jasper leg with his wife and two kids, tells me it's not a cheap journey but one they often take in preference to flying. "It's about appreciating what we have around us," he says, a knowing look on his face. "We see elk and bear along the route, sometimes eagles and moose. I want my children to understand what we have on our doorstep and I want to take the stress and hassle out of trying to get home. This train ride allows us to do both."

I'm starting to understand.

There's nowhere to go on this train, no Internet or Playstation 3 to entertain. By taking the Canadian through Canada, you have no choice but to sit and watch, talk and listen. Daily life is stripped down to its bare basics where you learn how to socialise again - dine with new friends, play card games or read books, talk about the world outside your window splendid in all its natural beauty, untouched and serene. 

This seemingly regular train ride allows me to rediscover the power of conversation and social interaction with the people around me. Previously, thirteen of the world's best travel bloggers, writers and photographers would sit with their heads in iPhones, iPads and laptops.

Now we talk. Laugh. Learn about each other.

We make Jasper by nightfall and a few days later leave for Winnipeg on a 36-hour train-a-thon. By the time we pass through the vast lakes and forests of Ontario, I find myself yearning for a return to the glory days of train travel, wishing this 4,500km journey would never need to end.

Photo credit: Maurice Li Photography

Passing through a particularly remote area of western Ontario, one of the attendants tells me that the train often stops if a passenger requests it. I don't quite understand.

She goes on to say that they often get requests from folk who climb onboard with kayaks and canoes and who ask to be dropped off at any number of locations along the Canadian National railway, only to disappear into remote bush on their quest for an outdoors adventure in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

It's so very Canadian.

Why shouldn't you be allowed to stop off wherever you want along the train line?

Photo credit: Maurice Li Photography

The journey isn't without its issues.

The Canadian is frequently delayed - CN, not VIA, own the rail line and so freight trains in the vicinity take precedence while our own train sits waiting patiently in a local siding. The one and two-person rooms are on the small side, but it's fair to say they're perfectly formed. And the ticket price is high, although we were fortunate to be sponsored by VIA for this particular travel blogging trip.

Yet all these things fail to dampen the spirit of a true railway journeyman.

The majority of VIA's customers may be from an older generation and the Canadian may not be the fastest thing on 172 or however many wheels, but it is a national treasure and a true Canuck experience.

Crossing a country as vast as Canada by the most basic of means and being privileged to witness some of the greatest natural sites on the planet makes this one of the world's great transcontinental travel experiences, up there with the likes of the Orient and the Ghan.

It is a journey from another time, when the romance of train travel was a deeply alluring thing, but it still has its place firmly rooted in modern times albeit at half speed and far, far away from the madding crowd.

Have you ever travelled by rail across country? Have you experienced The Canadian or any of the world's other great journeys? What unique travel experiences would you recommend?

If you want to follow along on my journey across Canada, either check in regularly on In Search of a Life Less Ordinary to read my blog posts or jump onto my personal page on the Keep Exploring tumblr site here. The Canadian Tourism Commission and VIA Rail hosted me for the train portions of this cross-Canada journey.

Read more »

Tweet

Vancouver, The Best Place On Earth

I always knew this was going to be emotional. Returning to Vancouver, that is.

Although we last visited the city two years ago, it was a short trip, a couple of days, a momentary blip in time. That vacation has haunted me since - there was much I wanted to see but didn't - and I hoped this five-day Vancouver experience on the Journey to TBEX: #ExploreCanada Blogger Train would lay to rest some of the ghosts of that visit.

If I had to pick a favourite city, Vancouver would win out again and again.

I have a personal connection to this city - it was our first point of entry when we emigrated to Canada in 2003; we became permanent residents and called White Rock and North Van our first Canadian homes; we were considered Vancouverites when the city secured the 2010 Winter Olympics; we embraced the local love of outdoor pursuits where before we'd experienced almost none.

Vancouver was a city of firsts, our city of firsts, and we never felt able to let her go.

This trip with my wife and son would reawaken much of that passion for the city. So much would have changed yet hopefully as much would remain the same as before.

English Bay, Vancouver.  Photo credit: Russell VJ Ward

Change is as good as a rest

The volume of change across the city as a result of the Winter Olympics has been profound. 

Walking around the city, I find naturally-inspired feats of design such as the Convention Centre on the Coal Harbour waterfront, while modernistic steel and glass apartment blocks in greens and blues push for the sky wherever the eye turns to. The Skytrain, a light rail system from the airport to the city, is now fully established after years of construction and it's easy to use - clean and efficient. Enduring impacts of the Olympics can be felt elsewhere - sculptures and inukshuks that crop up along the English Bay sea wall, the former Olympic village sitting squarely at the far end of False Creek, new walkways and landscaped gardens, brewpubs and wine tasting houses - these are all recent additions not remembered from times here before.

The city's eateries have also gone through something of a renaissance, creating an evolving foodie culture across this assured, self-confident city.  The street food cart scene in downtown Vancouver is an exciting development to see. Already a mainstay in many other North American cities, its late arrival in Vancouver has been readily embraced by the locals. Tucking into a serve of fish and jerk tacos at the Feastro food cart on the corner of Howe and Robson, I can't help but wonder why it took so long to arrive. And steaks and burgers are no longer the sole preserve of the downtown grill, with restaurants like Edible Canada offering bison meatballs, pea and ricotta rotolo, and sea salmon salads as standard fare.

Granville Street Bridge.  Photo Credit: Russell VJ Ward

The Olympics seem to have pushed Vancouver into tidying up its act, no longer wanting to be seen as an average Pacific North-Western city with a great backdrop, but rather a sassy, modern, outdoorsy kind of place.

The same but somehow different

Expecting a raft of wholesale changes across the city, I still knew that some things wouldn't have changed. And for this I was grateful.

For me, the gem in Vancouver's crown is the wonderful outdoor vibe it gives off - that ability to bring the wilderness in to your front yard, to deliver the mountains and ocean to your door step. Grouse Mountain, Capilano Suspension Bridge Park, Stanley Park. No other Canadian city can provide such outdoors delights within easy reach of regular city folk. No other Canadian city - in fact, no other city in the world - can provide the kind of magnificent setting that Vancouver offers each and every day.

Vancouver's North Shore.  Photo credit: Russell VJ Ward

Often rainy, but on those rare moments when the cloud cover lifts and the sun starts to shine, Vancouverites become the most fortunate people on earth - three spectacular snow-capped coastal mountains framing the backdrop, soldier pines and giant Douglas firs crowding their slopes, the harbour water lapping at their feet. It doesn't usually matter which street you find yourself on in downtown Van - turn your head in a northerly direction and prepare to be astounded by the presenting view.

Vancouver's incredibly high cost of living - generally high property prices versus low wages - hasn't changed, but it's always been a reluctantly accepted part of the deal when living in this part of British Columbia - you have to pay for impressive locations. Other things have stayed constant including the ridiculously cheap and readily available coffee. Sydney arguably produces some of the best cafe coffee in the world and Vancouver can hardly compete, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought myself a coffee connoisseur. I want cheap, large coffees and I don't want to pay the earth for them. With over 200 Starbucks in the downtown core alone, Vancouver is a coffee addict's wet dream.

Story poles, Capilano.  Photo credit: Russell VJ Ward

Old passions reignited

Returning to Vancouver gave us the chance to return to old haunts - the Aquarium nestled in amongst the ancient firs of Stanley Park and a chance to introduce Elliot to the beluga whales, sea otters and pacific seals; Chinatown's resurgent night markets and a city skyline photo shoot from a special secret location; afternoon nibbles and drinks at the Brewing Company in the trendy and vibrant district of Yaletown; Granville Island by Aquabus and a walk around an overcast and moody False Creek.

On this visit, former memories were stirred and old passions reignited. I love this city and its people. I love its ambiance and its vibe. It has a look and feel that suits me down to the ground.

When I'm in Vancouver, I feel a peace and connectedness. I'd even go so far as to say I feel like I'm home.

What do you think of Vancouver - the highs and lows? What would your favourite city be and why?

If you want to follow along on my journey across Canada, either check in regularly on In Search of a Life Less Ordinary to read my blog posts or jump onto my personal page on the Keep Exploring tumblr site here. The Canadian Tourism Commission and Tourism Vancouver hosted me for the Vancouver leg of this cross-Canada journey.

Read more »

Tweet

Have Baby, Will Travel

Flying with babies.

Those three words scare me. Or at least they did.

Because having a baby should never stop you from travelling - the only thing that may stop you is a fear of the unknown. And the tears. And the public tantrums.

Before flying to Canada on Friday for the TBEX Travel Blogger Train, I desperately wanted to put out a post asking for any advice for travelling with infants. I suffered the odd cold sweat and a little anxiety about the long distance. My wife, meanwhile, sat in a corner chewing her nails down to the nub.

Predictably we ran out of time, hurtling around the house during the week while packing for what felt like a seven-month trip to the Himalayas. Who knew that a baby could need so much stuff?

Five tins of formula in one bag because we couldn't buy the same brand in Canada. Umpteen changes of clothes in another bag because the weather changes so dramatically from west to east that we had to prepare for all eventualities. A vast array of toys to entertain the little dude, colourful squeezee food containers to feed him, nappies and nappy rash cream to contain him, baby Panadol and teething gel to soothe him. 

In total, he had a carry-on bag, large suitcase, stroller, and a baby carrier. We, meanwhile, felt like overdone celebrities as we worked out way through the airport with an army of luggage following us.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons (Anders Young)

Once upon a time, we were fans of leaving our travel to the last minute, grabbing the best deal to be had and jumping on a plane the following week or month but how things have changed. Elliot has arrived on the scene and this week rapidly became a complex exercise in military planning.

Then the 14-hour plane journey came around. 

Would previous long-haul flights from England to Australia where we'd cursed at the family sat in front of us with a screaming newborn come back to haunt me? Would I be paid back for the times I'd muttered dark curses under my breath at the sight of a baby boarding the plane? I could hear the voice of Kirsty from 4 Kids, 20 Suitcases and a Beagle echoing in my head: "You once told me I needed to 'suck it up' when it came to flying with babies and toddlers. I can't wait to hear how it all goes for you."

It was going to be 14 hours of sleep-deprived hell with a red-faced, swollen-eyed baby balling his eyes out the entire time. 

In the end, it wasn't all that bad.

Elliot didn't have a melt down and we didn't need to fill him with Phenergan. Sure, the shuttle to the airport was late and Sydney's shameful traffic nearly scuppered us, but we made it to the gate on time and once they'd loaded our 27 cases of baby food onboard, the rest of the flight passed easily enough.

This first time travelling with an infant taught me a few handy things:

The Scouts motto "be prepared"always applies. Thanks to the mammoth efforts of my wife in the weeks leading up to the trip, we had everything and anything we needed for a smooth journey. No stone was left unturned and, exhausting as it was for her, the effort truly paid off.

Babies don't need drugs, they need entertaining and they also need to feel secure. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the folks at Air Canada and they did good by us again. Helpful, self-assured and ever friendly, they looked after us from start to finish. Armed with a sturdy bassinet, plenty of his favourite toys, and us with the stamina of kings, we got our little boy through 14 hours of jet travel with little more than a whine and the odd grizzle.

Wake, feed, sleep, repeat. Give them routine and they'll give you peace. It's not easy to create a routine on a plane in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but we tried and it seemed to make him comfortable and gave us the occasional break. Exact timings went out the window and any science to the process was shot through but we had a sleeping, feeding baby for the most part - and for that, we were ridiculously grateful.

I'm absolutely certain there are other things we'll learn as we continue to travel and fly with Elliot. But, for now, we're here. We made it.

We're in Vancouver.

The North Shore mountains look down on us, steep slopes bristling with firs and soldier pines, eagles soaring, the harbour glistening. We've arrived back in the place where our expat journey began almost ten years ago. It's a homecoming of sorts and an introduction for Elliot to this memorable city.

And now the real adventure begins. It's time to explore Canada.

If you have handy suggestions or helpful hints you've learned along the way, please share them below as the little guy will be back on a  long-haul flight in less than two weeks.

Read more »

Tweet

'Britain Basks in Glorious Sunshine!'

It's a headline my fellow countrymen back in the UK could only dream of a few weeks ago.

After what seemed like 22 months of unending cold winter weather, Britain is finally emerging from its annual deep freeze. With a brutally determined cold snap lasting until late April and records tumbling as the country shivered its way through one frigid month after the other, the Brits can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

For winter is over.

And the weather isn't the only tell-tale sign. There is one other sign those dark days are behind the British.

People are coming out of hibernation.

Facebook is buzzing with activity, status updates glowing with stories of sunburn, unbearably hot weather, and impending heatwaves.

The talk is of an end to those desperate days of January, February, March and April, and the arrival of better times - long weekends away, Spanish holidays, hosepipe bans, summer festivals, fruit picking in farmer's fields, and the triumphant return of the British BBQ, charcoal briquettes n' all.

A visit back to the motherland suddenly looks much more appealing. There'll be alcohol-fuelled beer garden stop offs, lazy afternoons spent paddling in local rivers, and an Australian summer tan topped up and finished off by the persistently hot summer sun.

If we head back to the UK while this stretch of high temps continue, we'll take advantage of off-peak airfares, a strong Aussie currency, cheap car hire, rent ourselves a quaint cottage by the beach, drive down to the coast, and seek out some Vitamin D in these unusually warm days.

The long awaited British summer is here and the people are waking from their slumber. Life is good.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons (Peter J Dean)

I hear hearing nothing for months from loved ones and close friends, wondering where they've gone to and why they've hidden. It's as if a deep freeze sets upon the British Isles like the coming of the second Ice Age and only now, with the onset of a late thaw, are people surfacing from their burrows to breathe in the fresh spring air.

I'm suddenly contacted by folks I'd long ago assumed were missing or worse.

And the cycle repeats every year.

As winter hits in early November, emails drop off, online contact disappears, and all attempts at positivity seem to be abandoned. Then the sun arrives and the country erupts in a much improved frame of mind.

The weather is such an important part of life in the UK and the mood shifts and turns with the weather's own movements.

The return from the summer holiday, the autumnal depression, the growing quiet and negative mood as winter approaches, long absences from the electronic airwaves, then a glimmer of hope, a flower, a green tree bud, an early outburst of colour, followed by a sunny day, temperatures in the 20s, unexpected heat, obligatory sunburn and obvious relief.

Then the dismay returns.

Because the weather does what it always does best in Britain. It never stays the same. It changes and it often disappoints.

I take it for granted in Australia because the weather often delivers - consistent, generally according to plan, with not many surprises. And because of this, I forget about it, don't talk about it - it simply doesn't crop up in daily conversation the way I remember it did in England.

If things were different here, I'm certain I'd be more vocal.

As I watch my countrymen and women share their joy at the recent run of good weather, I remember back to how important something as simple as the sun is - the warmth, the feeling on your face, the positive impact around you, and the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this year will be different and the summer will persist and endure.

According to the Telegraph this week, after one of the dullest winters for decades "sun-deprived Britons must worry whether they are D-deficient. Vitamin D, the "sunshine vitamin" being crucial to good health".

When that sunshine fails to last and when the weather changes for the worse, I too worry for my fellow Britons because it won't be long again before, in the words of Game of Thrones' Ned Stark, winter is coming. Again.

Have you recently come out of hibernation where you are? How important is good weather to you? Is it the be-all and end-all?

Read more »

Tweet

How Sydney Got Under My Skin

I still remember the day, time and place.

A typical summer's day - expansive blue skies, not a cloud in sight, and the world around us painted with colours so bright they seemed almost unnatural.

Directly below, the harbour water sparkled under the intense gaze of the sun. As the plane banked to the right in the direction of the ocean, I pressed my nose to the small oval window and peered down. Before me, I could see one yellow strip of beach after the other forming a chain of golden lines running off into the distance. Gaining altitude, I could still pick out the people on the beach, towels, umbrellas, marquees for the surf life savers, children in the water, surfers and boogie boarders further out, then sail boats, fishing boats, power boats and cargo ships.

I watched and I wished.

Wished that I wasn't leaving. Wished that I wasn't returning to frozen Ottawa in the middle of a Canadian winter. Wished I could stay longer. Wished I could live in Sydney and experience these summer's days for longer than an annual three-week holiday. Something about the startling natural beauty of the place had got under my skin.

I knew I had to live in Sydney.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons (Gino)

Other things about Sydney affected me over the years making it difficult to forget or give up. Other things got under my skin.

When we holidayed there, I would watch people running in the Royal Botanical Gardens and along the harbour wall at lunchtimes in the sunshine. I remember thinking what a fabulous experience that would be, so different to the occasional chilled jog along the south bank of the River Thames.

After moving to Sydney, I joined a running squad that ran a Botanical Gardens circuit during lunch. The heat in the middle of summer was unbearable and I regularly forgot to put on any cream, but there was something magical about running along the harbour wall with the Opera House and Harbour Bridge ahead of you, yachts on the water at Farm Cove to your right, huge ancient Moreton Bay figs on your left. As white ibises scratched around beneath the vast canopy of these trees, I couldn't help but marvel at my unique environment.

Weekends in Sydney had always been something of a treat. When I worked by day in the city, the last place I wanted to be at the weekend was back amongst the office blocks and deserted alleyways. However, we occasionally treated ourselves to the odd night out in town, staying at one of Sydney's many varied hotels dotted around the harbour - at Woolloomooloo, Darlinghurst, Circular Quay, the Rocks.

We'd spend a night at one of these hotels - stepping out to browse the night markets in the Rocks, walking arm-in-arm along the Quay admiring the diversity of the street performers, sampling the growing number of small bars cropping up in the CBD - and I'd always feel as if I were on foreign soil for the first time, the vibrant pulse of the city never failing to invigorate me.

There's also something about the light in Sydney.

The way it seems to give the water a deeper tinge. The endless blue skylight making the lagoons and ocean appear bluer. The plumage of birds like the lorikeet and rozella exploding in a variety of greens, blues, reds and yellows. The never-ending sunshine, lighting the sand a hundred different shades of yellow. Colours seem magnified in Sydney. The light is extraordinary.

It's an extraordinary city all round.

From its location on the banks of a deep water harbour to its lengthy summers, diverse immigrant influence, outstanding coffee culture, exuberance and confidence, sheer over the top-ness, exotic and traditional dining fare, passion for the great outdoors, love for anything linked to sport, and its position on the edge of a vast landmass at the far reaches of the earth, Sydney is quite simply unique.

As a city, it got under my skin many moons ago. As a city, it's a national treasure that needs to be discovered and explored, wherever it is in the world that you currently live.

What is it that you love about Sydney? What are the things that have got under your skin where you live?

Read more »

Tweet

No More Office Cubicle

No. More. Office. Cubicle.

I didn't even think twice about the decision. The opportunity came out of leftfield and I seized it with both hands, running hard and fast until I reached the point of no return. I knew it was time to quit that tiny grey box and when that time came, it felt right... and completely surreal.

So I've done it. I've quit the life of the city commuter, fled my government cubicle in a remote corner of the Sydney CBD, and I'm finally living the dream.

My dream.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons (Michael Lokner)

Craving change

I never wanted to be that pin-striped guy who works in the city from dawn to dusk. The kind of guy who leaves home in the early morning, bleary-eyed and in a state of 'just-climbed-out-of-bed' shock. I never felt comfortable donning a suit and tie, participating in the daily pow-wows, lengthy team meetings, liquid lunches and late nights in the office.

I don't like working in cities and I prefer time with my family rather than with my job.

We're not all built the same way and I simply crave a different life. One with location independence. One where I can work on my terms, not theirs. One where I can work until I get the job done, irrespective of how and where.

I left my blue-chip corporate job in the UK in 2003 confident that I'd finally quit the world of office workers and routine 9-5's. I was set on the path to adventure and travel, leaving behind the 50-hour work weeks, motorway commutes and wasted time away from family that I could never hope to get back.

It was never going to be that easy.

Before long, I was back in the office, this time working for government and in a slightly different shade of grey office box. For the next eight years, I would change my location, alter the view out the window and improve the lifestyle at the weekend, but I couldn't break away from the traditional office role no matter how hard I tried.

It was all too ordinary.

When the planets align

Family and lifestyle are so important to me, not money or career path.

Every minute I spend away from my wife and son, every minute I spend away from this Northern Beaches way of life we've fought tooth and nail to build around us, is a minute lost and a moment gone forever.

I couldn't live with that.

I soon realised it wasn't about work-life balance, but about work and lifestyle - and being passionate about both on my own terms. I wanted flexibility, a role that allowed me to be closer to home, less micro-management and more freedom, a job that built on the interesting things I did in my free time - blogging, social media, building communities and writing for love (and money).

Then I met Alison Michalk.

An innovator and true believer in reforming the way we work, Alison runs a global company comprised of location independent professionals who work in towns, rural communities, by the beach, in the country, whatever, wherever. She also works remotely and has successfully grown a business that is built on the very things I believe in and write about here - flexibility, innovative work practices, an emphasis on work and lifestyle passions, working smarter not harder, working away from crowded cities.

We shared similar visions and ideals about how we wanted to work, where we wanted to work, and with whom. On that regular working day in that average Sydney cafe, Alison was searching for someone to help run her company and I was searching for a drastic change to my working world.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I joined Quiip as its Operations Director in early April. A global leader in community management, social media moderation, and content creation services, Quiip is an innovative, exciting and fun place to work.

I now operate out of my home on the Northern Beaches, with no more Sydney commute. I hear the dull roar of the traffic in the morning and I selfishly smile. I'm done with all that.

Occasionally, I take the ferry from Palm Beach to Quiip's Central Coast office. I work remotely using a range of online platforms. I manage the day-to-day business and I work with a group of highly talented and intelligent young people. I'm enthused and invigorated by my work environment, I continue to write, and I'll continue to travel. I plan exotic retreats for our employees in far-flung destinations and I sit in front of my laptop wondering if this is all just a dream.

Lessons learned

I learned several things from the past four years of soul-searching and trying to figure a way out of the office cubicle.

1. I learned that I couldn't handle being a city worker any more and I needed to break free. 
2. I learned that if you want change, it'll happen, but not without hard work and a bucketload of patience. 
3. I learned to network like crazy and use social media as a means to navigate my potential new career.
4. I learned there are plenty of other people like me who believe that career is important, but having a certain way of life close to family and home is more so.
5. I learned that this change was never about the money, it couldn't be - this was about doing something I loved and escaping that office cubicle.
6. I learned that my writing remains important to me and this major life change had to allow for that - I'll continue to freelance, blog, and develop relationships with brands and other bloggers (Canada, here I come!).

And the most important thing I learned?

I learned that I went in search of a life less ordinary but I wasn't living it. Not entirely.

And now I think that I am.

Have you taken a risk to achieve happiness and have seen it pay off? Are you seeking a big change in your life? Did location independence or a significant career change work for you?

Read more »

Tweet

Ten Years and Counting

Remember the book Marley & Me?

A young couple, John and Jen, move to the south of Florida and set up home near the beach while working as two local reporters. They get a dog as a practice run for parenthood and Marley the yellow labrador retriever arrives on the scene causing destruction and chaos wherever he goes. Later in the book, the couple have children and the family eventually moves to a rural farm in Pennsylvania where, after falling ill some years later, Marley is put to sleep and laid to rest.

It’s a heart-warming and tender story.

On reflection, the parts that resonated with me weren’t just Marley’s journey through his short canine life, but also the contrast between the couple’s early life with the sun, sea, and hustle and bustle of Boca Raton, and their eventual relocation to a quieter, more tranquil country setting.

In their Florida life, they spent long days on the beach with Marley, soaking up the glorious weather but also working hard as two early career professionals, crammed into a house that quickly grew too small for their family’s needs. They lived in the thick of it, young and adventurous, and I look at our own life here in Sydney as we grow our small family, and I wonder if parallels can be made.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons (Mel1st)

Like them, we live in a lively and active corner of the world. We enjoy a fantastic environment on the ocean’s doorstep with near-perfect weather all year round. We appreciate the vibrancy and youthfulness of Sydney, and we practically live outdoors, barely watching the TV, always eager to get outside.

We're witness to a robust and thriving economy. Wages are high even if the cost of living is also. We’re lucky to live where we do and our hard work to make a home for ourselves on the Northern Beaches is starting to pay off. We have friends and family here, established routines and practices. Our son will grow up spoilt for distraction and it seems obvious that this location is a sensible place for us to be.

But a part of me wonders if, like Marley & Me, this story of ours will one day change.

Marley's family expanded and they yearned for greater space. They needed peace and quiet away from the intense, hectic early years of their life. They sought out a gentler, less pressured existence and I wonder whether we should now consider the same.

I’m soon to celebrate my tenth year of expat life.

Ten years is a long time to be abroad. It’s long enough that you start to feel comfortable with being displaced and less comfortable with the notion of returning to your original home. Still, I occasionally allow myself to daydream about what life could be like if we ever went back.

As John and Jen did, I imagine a life in the country. I see my son in his uniform ready for the first day at his village primary school. I see us reconnecting with dear family and friends, returning to the favourite haunts of our twenties. I see walks in the countryside, annual ski trips to the continent, weekend getaways in London. I see us experiencing the different seasons in a picture-postcard kind of way – be it enjoying the spring blossoms, sampling lazy picnics in the peak of summer, Elliot's attempts at 'trick or treating' in the autumn, or relaxing as a family by warm and cosy firesides through idyllic winters.

I see our home - a period house oozing with character and charm on the outskirts of a quaint English village. I see us arriving in the warmer months, settling in to our new environment, sitting down at a large kitchen table, carefully arranging the utilities, car purchases, home insurance, household finances and so on. Life moves forward and, as we ease ourselves into a very English way of life, I see a quiet, regular existence. Nothing extraordinary. Simple. Easy. Routine.

Something niggles away at the back of my mind.

I’ve been away a long time and I know, deep down, that I’ve changed as a person. I'm fairly certain this life won't make me happy - living abroad has shifted my outlook on life, changed what I want and what I appreciate. I’ve seen and done too much, and I can't settle for this dream anymore. These memories of home aren't even real any more - I’m remembering what I want to through rose-tinted glasses.

After ten years abroad, I’ve grown comfortable with this expat life, wearing it like a much-loved jumper or a treasured pair of shoes. Packing up, removals, relocation, upheaval - these are emotionally and physically draining things and, with age, I want simplicity, easy living, and a heck of a lot less stress.

Unlike John and Jen, I don't think I need any more change. My heart might occassionally encourage thoughts of a possible return, but my mind tells me things are no longer quite what they seem.

Have you considered a return home? Did you do it? If not, why not and what stopped you?

Sign up for regular email updates. It's easy and free.

Read more »

Tweet

Canada, eh?

Canada.

The great white north.

The world’s second largest country. A land bordered by the Pacific, Atlantic and Arctic oceans. A nation of Anglophones, Francophones, inukshuks and Tim Hortons.

Canada.

The land of my forefathers.

My grandfather’s home, my own home for three unforgettable years, and a home away from home that I’ll continue to return to whenever time and budget allows.

Canada is an itch I will always need to scratch.

Ten years ago, it became our first expat home when we left the UK as Canadian permanent residents set for a life in the far reaches of the Pacific Northwest.

Several years later, we filmed our new life for the popular US television show, House Hunters International, as we settled down on the Northern Beaches of Sydney, Australia. We were given an opportunity to shoot the early scenes in Vancouver and the perfect excuse to return.

Now I’m going back.

The Canadian Tourism Commission are kindly sending me back to Canada so that I can share this breathtaking country with you once again.

Prominent bloggers from around the world will be travelling to Toronto in early June to attend one of the world’s premier travel writing conferences and, as part of this very special opportunity, some will also take part in familiarisation tours across the country.

I’ll be arriving in British Columbia in late-May to spend several days in Vancouver where I’ll sample the local cuisine, scale the heights of the local mountains, and soak up the many flavours of downtown Van. Taking a train across the province and into neighbouring Alberta, the next stop will be Jasper where I'll experience whitewater rafting, motorbike touring, and cable car rides to the peak of the alpine region. From Jasper to Winnipeg for a feast of culinary and cultural delights before travelling to Canada’s largest city, Toronto, at the end of May for TBEX, the world's largest gathering of travel bloggers, writers, and new media content creators.

But I won’t be making this trip entirely on my own.

My wife and young son will be coming with me for the beginning and end to this extraordinary trip. This is my chance to show Elliot the home of his great grandfather and the country that stole our hearts. And while I’m touring across this vast landmass, Sarah and Elliot will spend time with family and friends in Eastern Canada before we come together to enjoy a final few days in beautiful Muskoka at the heart of Ontario’s cottage country.

This will be one of those rare and memorable journeys where a writer gets to unleash his or her craft and show you a country through their own eyes. It’s a golden opportunity for me to indulge my passion for this superb country and a chance to show you exactly why it means so much to me and to many others like me.

I want you to see the real Canada from the ground up – the sights, the sounds, the people, the wildlife, the wilderness, the jaw-dropping beauty. I want to show you the country that continues to take my breath away and the country where my expat and travel adventures first began back in 2003.

My Canadian experience begins on the 18th of May and, here on ISOALLO, I hope you'll indulge me by following along.

Have you been to Canada? Are you a Canadian or an expat in Canada? Tell me what you think makes Canada a great place to see.

Read more »

Tweet

That One Defining Moment

If I hadn’t been in that place, on that day, at that time.

Looking back on ten years of living abroad, I wonder what the turning point was that led to this life. What was the trigger or event that led to the decision to travel, explore the world, and live in countries far removed from my own?

Life is full of defining moments, of turning points that pivot us in unanticipated directions. What was my own defining moment? Or was there a series of moments cascading into one not unlike a row of dominoes toppling over?

Was it the time I looked ahead to my impending university life and to the gap year that would surely come before my studies? I remember picking up a travel magazine in a newsagents and gazing intently at the array of travel options in front of me. I dreamed of backpacking through Asia, spending six months working in Australia, and even partaking in one of those innovative tours from Australia to China. I visualised treks in New Zealand then North America, eventually returning home as the long lost voyager. I'd ultimately do none of these things, my sensible side choosing academia over adventure.

Photo credit: Judy van der Velden (Flickr Creative Commons)

Was it before then when the French teacher at sixth form college suggested a degree in European Studies? Did she inadvertently pique my curiosity in living abroad by recommending a course that would set me up as a bureaucrat in Brussels? An innocent nudge towards a career in Europe and suddenly expat life beckons.

Or was it earlier than this? The school exchange I went on to Normandy, France as a fifteen year old boy. Living with a French family, meeting local students, experiencing diverse food, soaking up the Francophone culture. Did my interest in foreign places and people start with a childhood visit to the Continent?

Or earlier still? The day my grandmother whisked me off to the Black Forest region to meet my Canadian relatives based in Germany with the Air Force. During two weeks away from the UK, a door was unlocked. I walked into unfamiliar territory where the residents spoke a mother tongue I couldn't comprehend. The Schwarzwald was a land of fairytale castles and ancient forests where a skinny young English boy quickly discovered how jaw-droppingly beautiful this world could be. One unique experience as a youngster which may have set in motion a passion for travel, growing and expanding like a snowball tumbling down a hill.

I'm certain these experiences framed who I am and led me to a certain point, but the pivotal experience occurred in a less exotic environment. It wasn’t a moment when the light bulb went on in my head and I suddenly knew it was time to ship out and move overseas, but a point in time when my world changed and when it dawned on me that life as I knew it would never be the same again.

It was the year 2000, on an evening like any other, as I headed over to my local gym. After a light work-out, I bumped into a friend in the corridor. As we caught-up, a pretty girl and her friend interrupted us to ask a question about the gym. Two girls, one quite different accent.

I’m a believer in fate. Things happen for a reason. And in that gym corridor on that average midweek night, I’d just met my wife.

Vivacious and bubbly with an infectious smile, she was the chalk to the cheese of my English reservedness. Full of the energy of life – enthusiastic, passionate, highly motivated – at a young age, she'd already grabbed life by the horns and wrestled it from one continent to the next, from the east coast of Australia to the east coast of the US, from east on to west, then across the pond to the UK.

I’d been waiting patiently for her my entire life.

She freed me from the shackles of my comfort zone and encouraged me to look at life with eyes wide open. She wasn’t solely responsible for the decisions and life changes that soon followed but, without her, they simply wouldn’t have been made. We were instant partners and soul mates with a common purpose and outlook on life.

Thirteen years later, after six years of marriage, three houses on three continents, two dogs and finally our beloved infant son.

On Saturday, we'll celebrate the sixth anniversary of our marriage to each other but this year's celebration will be for so much more than just that. We will celebrate our life together, our achievements, our incredible journey and the miracle that is our sweet darling boy.

There was only ever one catalyst for this life, only ever one defining moment that started it all. I may have been hardwired deep down for overseas adventure, but this one person was the spark that changed it all.

If I hadn’t joined that gym. If I hadn’t trained that night. If I hadn’t bumped into my friend. If she hadn’t walked through those doors.

That gym on that day at that time.

That girl.

That one defining moment.

Did you have a defining moment which led to moving overseas? What was the turning point that made you decide to leave?

Sign up for regular email updates. It's easy and free.

Read more »

Tweet

The Great Australian Airfare Rip-off

Here in Australia on his annual holiday, my wife's uncle told me about the growing number of deals to be found in the UK when booking a return flight from London to Sydney.

"So what's a typical airfare with one of these deals?" I asked him, knowing full well that long-haul airfares have been on the increase for some time both here and there.

"Well, I received an email just last week promoting return flights to Sydney for less than £700."

I did the conversion in my head. £700 was roughly equivalent to $1,000 AUD. $1,000 AUD! I couldn't book a flight from Sydney to London for anything less than $1,500 on a good day. I might be able to find a cheaper flight but I'd stop over in nine countries and it would take me four weeks to get there.

Photo credit: Milolovitch69 (Flickr Creative Commons)

I decided to investigate further online and found one reputable airline advertising direct economy flights from London to Sydney for £796 during the English summer, while a rival airline had return flights to Sydney priced at a mere £681. Granted, these flights were scheduled for a time of year when the Aussie winter would be in full swing but, nonetheless, it represented a huge contrast to the airline fares advertised in Australia for that same travel period.

A search on the Australian arm of Expedia for similar flights but this time from Sydney to London revealed an average price of $2,000 or about £1,350. Deal or no deal, this was a significant discrepancy and one with no accompanying explanation as to the reason for the vast price differences.

I asked my wife's uncle to try booking a pair of Sydney to London tickets from the UK in an attempt to take advantage of the lower fares, but the online booking systems wouldn't allow it. What about a one-way flight from Sydney to London, then a return ticket to Sydney taking advantage of the lower prices in the UK, and we'd then save the additional leg back to London for a future visit? Again, no joy. The price of a single ticket was almost as expensive as the full return ticket.

I was beginning to sense a conspiracy.

Having lived in Australia for a number of years, airfares have always been something of a bugbear for me. It's financially punitive enough trying to fly back to see loved ones from the other side of the world, but no-one wants to feel blatantly ripped-off. So why is it costing more for us to fly long-haul from Australia than for people coming the other way?

I've lived in Canada and experienced fairly consistent flight pricing between there and the UK - and vice versa. Ditto for the US. Double ditto for pretty much anywhere else I've lived in or have travelled to. I get it that the cost of most things in Australia, especially in Sydney, has been on the rise for years. From books to house prices, movie tickets to car parking, it's not hard to see why Australia has become one of the most expensive countries in the world to live in. I suppose that's the price you pay (no pun intended) for living in a country where the robust economy continues to buck the trend of poorly performing financial systems elsewhere.

But when it comes to flying home, and with no other available option, you can't help but feel overcharged and short-changed at the recurring sight of these exorbitant airfares when compared to the prices that folks are paying back in the UK. And this peculiar pricing framework doesn't discriminate because you'll pay just as much in the off-season as you will during the peak times of the year.

The airlines are for the most part silent on the issue. When it appears in the media, there's no response or explanation. The gross inconsistency in airfares here seems to exist because that's the way things are and the way they intend for them to stay.

It's accepted that airlines can do whatever they want to do and, as long as Australia-based Brits need to travel back to the UK regularly, they'll keep charging you what they like, when they like, and without any excuse. Which means that, for the foreseeable future, flying to Britain will remain financially painful yet unavoidably necessary for expats living in Australia.

Is this a problem you’ve found? How did you get around it? Do you think those of us here in Australia should pay the same as the rest of the world for long-haul flights? 

This article appeared in the Weekly World edition of the Telegraph (Issue 1, 133, April 10-16).

Sign up for regular email updates. It's easy and free.

Read more »

Tweet

The Expat, the Writer, the Worker

Are we inspired to do things we wouldn't normally do because we live abroad? Are we driven to increased creativity because of where we now call home?

Some people might say that travelling overseas and living abroad changes us. That moving away from our country of origin unlocks something inside that brings out the explorer - we yearn to get out there and see unusual sights, sample exotic foods, meet interesting people, and explore where, previously, we would have stayed indoors.

I wonder if living overseas unlocks another door.

As explorers, we consider options that we wouldn't have considered before, that may have been hidden in our previous lives. We see new possibilities and we spend time investigating avenues that once were disregarded out of hand. We encourage skills that lay dormant and we look at opportunities through a different lens - the lens of a traveller, the lens of an expat.

For some, it can mean bringing out the entrepreneur from within. For others, it's about working cleverly and innovatively in a way that suits the lifestyle best - working virtually as a consultant, coach, translator, graphic designer or social media guru. When we're away, we might start to identify with less traditional roles or we simply think about work differently.

Whatever the role or skill set, it seems to me that the life of an expat or traveller (or someone whose world revolves around their unique lifestyle) is a life that somehow encourages us to try careers or projects or ways of working that we wouldn't have tried in the place we left behind.

In my case, living abroad brought out a desire to work intelligently and to write.

Photo credit: Spaceamoeba (Flickr Creative Commons)

It wasn't always this way for me

In the UK, work was work.

Career was the be all and end all, job status and title was king. I commuted, I worked, I commuted some more. I asked no questions, never challenged what I did. It was all that I knew and I was happy to settle.

For a while.

I don't remember a specific time at which I had the urge to explore work in a different light or to write with passion - not in my work or in my private life. I worked in the office, drafted letters, sent emails, created reports and presentations, fact sheets and templates. It was routine stuff and not particularly inspiring.

And I didn't have that much to write about. With a handful of travel experiences under my belt, I had no real motivation to share.

I needed inspiration. I needed something different.

Living abroad changed me

I suddenly wanted to share my stories of life overseas. It started with a blog, led to articles and interviews, guest posts and features, eventually culminating with a decision to write on a regular basis.

There was something about the grand adventure of living in a foreign country, a sense of being able to give almost anything a go, and the realisation that after going through this much emotion and upheaval, I was capable of more. This finally gave me the motivation I was secretly looking for to dabble in writing about my life and consider options for truly embracing my expat lifestyle.

I'm currently going through a major transition process.

I'm working with the team at Global Niche to understand how I can be passionate about my life and my work- and how this could look on a full-time basis. What is my niche, how can I build on what I've already done, and how can I share my value on a broader, international scale? Two weeks in and I like what I've seen from this community of globally-minded people working hard to create location-independent lives.>

I'm also writing fiction.

Since last year, I've been part of the #38Write workshop series designed for place-passionate writers around the world. I'm writing fiction, I'm developing storylines, and I have several novel ideas that I'm working to develop. It feels good to say that I'm finally writing in a particular niche that fits me.

We're two months into 2013 and this week has already seen a flurry of unexpected offers that have left me chomping at the bit and eager to share.

Call it karma or basic fate, I'm starting to believe that if I hadn't made such a monumental shift to my life back in 2003, then I wouldn't be sitting here writing this down right now.

The truth about expats and travellers

The thing is this. Expats and travellers have undergone a massive life change - and generally they were well up for it.

They've taken calculated risks and tried something radically different. On the whole, they're not risk averse, they're not especially hesitant, and they've demonstrated a desire to embrace change.

The day I moved abroad I made a statement: I wasn't afraid to step outside my comfort zone. I was available for opportunities and game for trying new things. For me, it was only a matter of time before I documented this journey and I feel that expat life was wholly conducive to this. This blog gave me a means to share and, with it, ignited a deeply held passion for the written word and for seizing opportunity wherever it lay.

And I'm hooked.

Look across the online world and you'll see thousands of people like me who are also hooked. A world of bloggers and global nomads sharing their stories, engaging in virtual conversation about overseas travel and expatism, while constantly innovating and experimenting with their working lives.

It's exciting to watch and even more so to be a part of.

Has living abroad nurtured your creative and entrepreneurial side? What are you doing now that you couldn't have imagined doing before?

Sign up for regular email updates. It's easy and free.

Read more »

Tweet