After my month-long trip to Australia in 2008, I stayed put in South Africa for almost two years. I was unhappy with my life to say the least. I spent most of my time earning money just to throw it away on an expensive cost of living, and only venturing out to the nearest mall, nightclub, or friend's house. I was hardly opening my mind or broadening my horizons. In short, I missing out on the good stuff.

In June 2010, I abruptly moved to England. I stayed with my family who had emigrated there from South Africa a few years before - my father, step-mother, and three younger sisters. It was a big change after being a (somewhat) independent 20-year-old. Suddenly I wasn't the master of my own kitchen anymore, and had to navigate one of my worst enemies again - public transport. We lived in the town of Witney, population 25,000, which is a quaint place filled with pretty old buildings from the Middle Ages. Yes, it's bloody ancient, and I quickly became used to my new old world: cobblestone alleys, chancels and spires, and names like Wood Green, or Tower Hill.

Besides the bits of travelling I managed around the county, I spent many weekends in Oxford - another ridiculously old place, but with a lot more going on than my small town. It's where I would go pub-hopping or band-watching at night, and window-shopping with a million other people during the day. This is my personal slogan for the place: "Oxford: home to traffic jams and 9.3 million tourists a year, who can usually be spotted in their Oxford University hoodies licking a Thornton's ice cream."

Here are some photos from my year of living in Witney:

A snow-covered street in town.

"The Plough Inn" - how British.

The view from my bedroom window in December.

This was my neighbourhood - pretty small and uniform.

Our tiny backyard covered in snow - polar opposite to South Africa.

The view out my bedroom window during snowfall.

The same view after the snow fell. I had never seen snow okay!

This was the house we lived in.

A street in Witney.

Garden-envy.

I used to walk past this all the time to get into town.

The route home.

Swans that I would say hello to almost every day.

One of the views I would usually see on the bus to Oxford.

Another one of those views.

Cake in Oxford. Yes, I have a problem.

Oxford scenery.

Massive old cathedrals, nothing new - Oxford.

Back when I was still sporting piercings and bleach-blonde hair, I went on a month-long trip to Queensland, Australia. It was 2008, I was eighteen, and I was about to take my first bite of "abroad".

I mostly stayed in the luxurious, tourist-ridden area of the Gold Coast, where I spent my days walking the pristine suburbs and sampling the various sparkling beaches. I quickly became infatuated with Surfers Paradise and Gelato, and when I felt like getting lost on public transport, I'd make my way to the city of Brisbane. While I was there I became accustomed to lavish fantasies about roadtrips to the other side of the continent, and perhaps playing house in one of the famous big cities. It'll be a long time from now, but my ultimate goal is to get back to the land of Oz.

When I landed back home in South Africa, I knew I was different, and my bedroom window was no longer enough of a view to satisfy my new appetite. As a child, I had travelled all over my own country, and to my neighbouring countries as well, but after Australia I knew I had to get out again. I'll tell you more stories about that later.

Here are my photos from my trip to Australia:

(Keep in mind I had no clue how to hold a camera back then)

The most easterly point of the Australian mailand - Cape Byron.

My first time seeing enormous shiny buildings, in Surfers Paradise.

I'm taking you back to July 2012. I'm still living in my hometown of Durban, which is the third largest city after Johannesburg and Cape Town. Around 3 and a half million people live there, and are referred to as Durbanites. We are notoriously good at ignoring the humidity, the sand in our bums, the beggars at the traffic lights, and the blaring taxi music from dawn to dusk. The city of Durban is also known to be much slower and calmer than The Place of Gold, and a lot less happening than The Mother City. I think that's exactly why people choose Durban over the others.


As a child, I have memories of so many beaches that they have all become one long coastline in my mind. I can't remember the first time I stepped foot on a mountain in the Drakensburg, and wondered about the hunter-gatherers who had stepped in the same tracks thousands and thousands of years before. I can't recall my exact thoughts when I first squashed my face up against the car window to get a glimpse of a giraffe, or if I felt fear or excitement when I climbed out my tent one morning to see a herd of zebras in our campsite. Growing up, my perception of Durban and its surrounding beauty is almost polar opposite to my current view of the city (we'll get to that later). My childhood was lived in a world of picturesque sunsets and postcard natural wonders. It was lived in the animal kingdom, in the wild, in freedom.

Sounds perfect, doesn't it? But by the time I had reached my second decade, I was itching to get out and fall in love with someone else's world. Our world. And that's why I began travelling. It was a seed planted by my own mind when I got lost in the book-worlds of One Hundred Years Of Solitude, On The Road, or Lonesome Traveller. It was a concept that I kept picking out in all sorts of films - from Natural Born Killers to Lost in Translation, from Y Tu Mama Tambien to Thelma and Louise. I found a case for modern nomadism everywhere I looked, but it would only be when I was eighteen that I'd have my first taste of another country: Australia. I stayed in the Gold Coast and explored the city of Brisbane, while fantasizing about roadtrips through the outback to the other side of the continent (I haven't done that yet). When I landed back home I was more restless than ever, and that sent me off on an adventure to England, which ended up lasting an entire year. I lived and worked in the small town of Witney, 12 miles from Oxford. Again, when I came back home at 22, I couldn't sit still in my own country, and embarked on my longest adventure abroad yet: Thailand.

To get back to the purpose of this post, I'll drag you away from my ramblings, and back to July 2012. It was my last holiday in South Africa, my last vacation before I began my permanent vacation abroad, and it took place down the South Coast. I spent my 22nd birthday there filled with a nostalgia that was already seeping in before I had left, and made sure to capture what I could.

Here are my photos from my last holiday in South Africa:

My friend and I stayed in this beautiful loft room.

A famous pancake place called Mac Banana - they serve up everything you could imagine in a pancake. They also have a store full of homemade jams, chutneys, fresh cheeses, and nuts. Yum!

Donkeys in someone's yard.

Marina Beach, Southbroom.