Author Archives: erin

56 days.

It has taken 56 days of missed Australian summer for me to see snowfall.

About bloody time. Apologies if you can hear me sniffling in the background — I’ve had a cold for about three weeks.

(Apparently this constitutes a blizzard in Ulsan. The shipping yard was shut down for the day and all the workers, including the friend I’m visiting, were sent home. Lul.)

The town was beautiful tonight:

IMG_0737 IMG_0740

Shittest blogger ever, btw, I know. I’m working on something new.



I’ve been around the world a couple of times or maybe more.

I’ve been away for six weeks. Six weeks! It’s not much, but it feels like forever.

I’ve visited five cities in three countries for varying amounts of time. I have loved and not-loved them, but mostly loved. I’ve now visited 25 countries and I think I can categorically say that Australia really is the best country on earth.

Sure, there are dodgy Aussies – the racists and misogynists and drunken idiots – that give the rest of us a bad name, but overall, it’s a great country. Our education system (mostly) works, our healthcare system (mostly) works, the weather is (mostly) great, it’s (mostly) beautiful and definitely very clean – there is no denying that.

Australia, today I miss you.



Scallop city

IMG_0470 IMG_0469Fresh scallops, straight from the bay to the tank to the fire to my belly.

My companions ate their scallops topped with a cheese and tomato-based sauce that tasted exactly like Heinz tinned spaghetti, which ruined them in my opinion. I was happy to eat my share of the scallops almost au naturale, save for some herbs and seasoning. Beautiful!

I went to Korea and omg the food.

This is lunch from my first day in Ulsan, South Korea. ulsanlunchLet me correct that: these are the side dishes from lunch from my first day in Ulsan, South Korea. In one meal I may have sampled just about every Korean side dish known to humanity.

We also had a plate of pork belly, pork ribs, sausages, and smoked duck to cook on the BBQ.

All the food.


I’m an Australian, get me out of here.

This is happening. When I woke up it was -13C and felt like -24C, so I guess comparatively it’s toasty now. (It’s not. It’s fucking freezing.)


What I’m wearing today:

Two pairs of knit tights.
Insulated trekking socks.
Knee-high boots.
Tank top.
Long sleeved tshirt.
Jersey knit dress with sleeves to elbows.
Knit cardigan.
Elbow-length gloves (wool would be warmer, but it makes me itch).
Winter jacket with the hood up.


Despite my natural insulation (i.e. flab), I am not made for this kind of weather. Oh god, I miss the beach.

Lamest of the lame.

Okay, confession time.

the heart is a complicated and sneaky ol' thing.

the heart is a complicated and sneaky ol’ thing.

I’m travelling at the mo’. Travel is “my thing”. I use travel as escapism because I don’t know what the shit I am doing with my life.

I purchased flights, booked accommodation, and packed up my (very small) bags to (*cliche alert*) head off into the wide blue yonder to find myself, or something.

I’m 19 days into my supposed year-long trip, during which time I was planning to find somewhere to live, somewhere that I could settle for six months or a year or even longer. (It was New York, but as I mentioned in my previous post I am kind of mentally poo-pooing that idea for now.) I know that I’m in a weird limbo-state, in that I haven’t really gotten over jet lag yet and I know that in nine days, when I fly to South Korea, I am changing time zones again… back to just one hour ahead of Perth. It’s difficult to just relax when I am all over the place, both physically and mentally. I find myself impatiently waiting for the next part of this trip rather than enjoying the moment (= story of my life).

I actually haven’t enjoyed the past 19 days much at all. It seems so awful to say that; how dare I not enjoy my holiday! Truthfully though, I am exhausted, unsure, and missing someone like hell.

One must avail oneself of all matters of the heart before travelling, lest one leave one’s heart at home.

I am really struggling to reconcile my desire to travel with my lonely heart. (I think that’s probably the most pathetic thing I’ve ever written.) Nobody really talks about the fact that travelling does often mean leaving someone behind. I’ve done it twice now, only this time was kind of by accident. (Last time, I met the man boy — he was just 20 — that I would become engaged to [and eventually break up with] the same day that I booked my eleven-month-that-became-five-month holiday to Europe.)

It still sucks the second time.

There seems to be some unwritten rule in the travel world that you have to go for a long time, otherwise you haven’t really travelled. This is particularly true, I feel, for Australians; we’re so far from everything that you must make your time abroad absolutely worth it and see as much as possible for as long as possible, otherwise you may as well have gone to Bali like every other stinkin’ Aussie.

Having planned to be away for a year and then admitting to myself that I don’t know if I want to be away for a year (at least not all in one go) is really difficult, partly because I’m proud as hell and partly because I feel weak somehow, like admitting that I have normal human emotions like longing and love makes me a lesser person. Seasoned travellers are supposed to be able to forget about home, right? Adventure above all!

But… it’s difficult to adventure when you’re missing someone. When I was 23 and travelling solo and everything was new it was relatively easy to push my heart aside and still Do Things (although there were parts of that trip that also really sucked because I was really lonely, but that’s part of travelling alone, surprise surprise). At almost30 though I think I’m ready to share things with another human being. I’ve been single for almost four years, I’ve spent a shitload of time on my own whilst finishing my thesis, and I’m kind of just really, really over myself.

I need someone to decide what happens next. Being an independent adult isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be.