Six months ago my 10-year-old daughter and I were part-way into a year of travelling in Asia. Now we are lucky enough to be waiting out the pandemic on a tropical island in north Queensland.
We flew home from Japan in March - just days after our government asked Aussies to come back - into voluntary isolation, nowhere to live and, like everyone else, so much uncertainty. My income relies on tourism and travel, and when that stopped so did most of my money, apart from what I could withdraw from my superannuation or scrounge by pausing my mortgage repayments.
We isolated in a friends’ granny flat up the coast and then, as our house in Sydney was leased, moved into my parents’ home. It was tough, living back in 1989, and it didn’t improve as the pandemic dragged on way longer than any of us had expected.
Watch: Little daily rewards of self care. Post continues below.
We waited it out and when NSW was allowed to travel again we took off in a van to explore for a month. We bumbled on down the coast and after Emmie broke her arm at the Culburra skate park we turned west over the mountains and into Wiradjuri country, learning about Indigenous history, bushrangers, farming and wine. I pressed on and tried to ignore the scratching in my mind about where we would go when our road trip was over.