Feeling a little Moorish

My first time in Andalusia was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I travelled through the region in October 1990 while backpacking in Europe with Dean, a sheep farmer friend from Victoria. At the time, we were making good use of a 15-day Eurail Flexi Youth Pass. Our Andalusian adventures kicked off when we arrived by train in Cordoba on the evening of 2 October.

Our trusty Let's Go Europe travel guide had recommended this provincial capital. It’s home to the Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba, otherwise known as the Great Mosque of Córdoba. The current structure was completed in 785 on the orders of Abd al-Rahman I, the Moorish leader who founded the Islamic Emirate of Cordoba. Over time, his successor progressively expanded the complex, adding a minaret and a highly ornate mihrab.

The mosque was subsequently converted to a cathedral after Christian forces drove out the Muslim invaders in 1236. In the 16th century, a Renaissance cathedral nave and transept were constructed in the centre of the building. This quirky Christian structure remains in place today, surrounded by a vast hall of striped twin-tiered arches commonly found in mosques the world over.

The Cathedral of Our Lady of Assumption, as it’s known today, was one of the oddest places I’d ever seen up until that time. Its exterior is almost as exotic as its interior. Thanks to its arched interior, the external roof is defined by row upon row of distinctive barrel-like grooves. Its distinctly Islamic minaret has been repurposed as a bell tower, while its traditional central courtyard is filled with citrus trees, a common feature of Christian churches throughout Spain.

One unexpected highlight of our time in Cordoba was a haircut I organised with a local barber. It had been several months since my last cut, and my hair was getting rather shaggy. The entire service was conducted using sign language as neither of us spoke the other’s language. The old man then proceeded to cut my hair, wielding his scissors with the most dramatic and unnerving sword-like flourishes. I’m sure he was putting on a show for the tourists.

Our Eurail ticket gave us access to heavily discounted tickets on local Spanish trains. As a result, we decided to make good use of this by buying tickets to Gibraltar via the medieval town of Ronda. Once again, our trusty travel guide delivered the goods. Ronda was recommended for several reasons. First, it’s home to one of the world’s oldest bullfighting rings, and second, its old and new town districts sit on opposing sides of a deep ravine. They’re linked by a spectacular stone arch bridge.

 

Dean and I absolutely loved Ronda. It was the kind of out-of-the-way place you always hope to discover while travelling somewhere new. We stayed two nights in a hostel a few blocks up from the town’s iconic bullring and spent a full day exploring the town from top to bottom. We toured the bullring, walked the clifftop path that offered breath-taking views of the valley floor hundreds of metres below, and explored the New Bridge from top to bottom. 

This spectacular bridge, as its name suggests, is not the original span linking the old and new town. The original “old bridge” sits about a hundred metres upstream and crosses the Guadiaro River canyon at a lower level, while an even older Roman-era bridge can be found a little further on.  We walked across all three just because we could.

Without a doubt, Puente Nuevo, "New Bridge", is the town’s most iconic attraction. This sturdy arched structure stands 120 metres above the canyon floor. The term nuevo is something of a misnomer, as its construction started in 1751 and took until 1793 to complete. The old town that it links to was equally captivating, with narrow winding cobblestone lanes and historic, white-washed buildings. I loved every moment of it. So much so that I insisted Garry and I visit Ronda while touring Andalusia in 2009.

I still recall how magnificent the town's magnificent bullring was when Dean and I visited it in 1990. It was built in 1784 in the Neoclassical style by the architect José Martin de Aldehuela, who also designed the Puente Nuevo. According to Wikipedia, it’s not the oldest bull-fighting ring in Spain. However, it is one of the first entirely constructed from stone, rather than a combination of stone and brick.

The architecture is also unique in that all seating in the ring is covered. It is considered a relatively small arena with only five thousand seats. However, the bull ring itself is the largest in Spain. When added together, the building’s unique features give it a wonderfully memorable vibe.

In case you're wondering, two of the images above were scanned from postcards I collected in Ronda. This is always a good indicator that a place has captured my imagination. As a backpacker, money was tight, so I rarely bought anything as indulgent as a postcard without a very good reason.

On 6 October, Dean and I loaded our backpacks and caught a morning train to Algeciras, the port city overlooking the Strait of Gibraltar. I distinctly recall the local train winding its way through the scenic Guadiaro River valley at a very leisurely pace, stopping from time to time at the most obscure and remote villages. This is a part of the world where the concept of time has a completely different meaning.

The example above was possibly one of the oddest stops we made during our entire time in Andalusia. This is the station at La Atalaya, a tiny village north of Ronda. As you can see, the roof of the station building had long since collapsed. However, the train between Cordoba and Ronda still stops here. A quick look at Google Maps shows that not much has changed in the last 35 years. The second image above was published online in 2024.

Follow this link to learn more about our visit to the Rock of Gibraltar and our subsequent adventures in Morocco.

Barcelona in the 90s

Time for another retrospective post. Every so often, life throws you a curveball. I experienced one such moment in September 1990 while backpacking through Europe. My travel buddy Dean and I met a young man on the train. At the time, we were in transit from Switzerland to Barcelona. Weeks earlier, we’d made plans to travel through Spain, cross the Straits of Gibraltar, and explore as much of Morocco as possible.

The guy we met on the train was on his way to Monte Carlo to collect a super yacht and deliver it to Barcelona for his boss. We got to talking with him. He was impressed that Dean had spent several months sailing through the Coral Sea, while I’d spent a year working on a dairy farm, which made me a seasoned handyman. He extended an invitation for us to join his repositioning crew and spend a week, all expenses paid, sailing across the Mediterranean.

Dean and I debated his offer long and hard. It meant we’d have to forgo our plans for Morocco. In the end, we decided a week on a super yacht, while mind-blowing, was unlikely to be as exotic as a week in Morocco. We politely declined his offer and bade him farewell in Monte Carlo. After reading my retrospective posts about our time in North Africa, I think it was the right decision. Sadly, I’ve never been invited onto a super yacht again.

Our train arrived in Barcelona late in the evening. Most venues were closed. We made our way to a backpacker’s hostel located on a side street just off the city’s iconic La Rambla boulevard. The hostel was set into an old building, with flights of winding stairs that led to some rather uninspiring bunk rooms on its upper floors. The hostel's daily room rate also burned a hole in our hip pocket. However, the hour was late, so we decided to suck it up for the night.

The following morning, we found ourselves sitting at a table in a KFC planning our itinerary for the next few days. At the top of our agenda was finding a cheaper place to stay. An elderly African American man overheard our conversation. He asked us if we were looking for a place to stay. He offered to help us out. As a foreign national who’d lived in Barcelona for several years, he was keen to ensure we got to see the best his adopted city had to offer.

At first, we were a little dubious. However, he insisted he knew the perfect place to stay. Before we knew it, he’d led us down a rather dreary cobblestone street leading away from the La Ramblas. The buildings were old, everything was heavily shuttered and closed, and the street was all but empty. He took us to a modest pensione with balustrade balconies overlooking the desolate street. A passionate debate, in Spanish, ensued between him and the owner behind the reception desk.

Before we knew it, we’d been escorted to a first-floor room with French doors that opened onto one of the street-side balconies. Our newfound friend later explained that he’d convinced the reticent owner to rent us one of his "honeymoon suites" for two nights at a bargain price (or rather, that's how he translated the room's name). He then gave some helpful advice on what to see and where to go in Barcelona before wishing us well and continuing with his day.

Unbeknownst to us, our room overlooked Carrer d'en Rauric, one of the liveliest streets in the city's Gothic District. As darkness fell, the shutters came up, and before we knew it, the once lifeless street was soon filled with a crowd enjoying its lively bars, bustling cafés and busy stores. We sat on our minstrel balcony, soaking in the nightlife below and toasting our good fortune with some local Sangria.  

After some extensive Google Map sleuthing, I'm fairly sure we stayed at Hostal Fernado, or its predecessor in the same location. There's a pensione still operating there today, and I'm sure the balcony highlighted in the screenshot above is where we stayed. If you look closely at the photo I took of Dean sitting on the balcony, you'll notice there was a lingerie shop directly below us on the ground floor. It's long since gone!

We spent two full days exploring the best that Barcelona has to offer. This includes climbing a steep, winding footpath up Mont Juic, a parkland plateau overlooking the city and the Mediterranean coast. We decided to climb it to see the stadium that had hosted athletic competitions for the 1992 Summer Olympics.

However, the area’s most surprising highlight proved to be The Magic Fountain of Montjuïc. This incredible water feature is a dancing fountain containing more than 3000 jets, some of which send water soaring more than 50 metres into the air. After dark, the fountain entertains visitors with a dramatic display of synchronised lights and water jets.

As all good tourists do, we walked the length of La Rambla, people watching locals going about their daily business. The tree-lined pedestrian street is filled with plazas and parks, as well as street artists, stalls and vendors offering all kinds of snacks and trinkets.

Without a doubt, Sagrada Familia was the highlight of our time in Barcelona. It’s the largest unfinished Catholic church in the world and was designed by the Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí. Its construction began in 1882 and continues to this day. According to recent news reports, the building should officially be completed by 2034. Its tallest, and final, tower was completed in February this year. The building’s final height is now an impressive 172.5 metres.

When I first visited it in 1990, most of the building’s main structure was still under construction. At the time, only the Nativity façade, the Passion Façade and their accompanying steeples had been completed. The most recent of these steeples had only been completed three years earlier, in 1987. The central nave was still under construction, and only its outer walls were in place at the time. Installation of the central pillars and vaulted roof was still some years away.

However, the Nativity façade was still an impressive sight. It was built before work was interrupted by the Spanish Civil War in 1935 and bears the most original Gaudí influence. Gaudí was a unique artist. His work is a blend of Art Nouveau and Gothic styles, filled with obtuse angles and unbelievably ornate, somewhat abstract flourishes. I’d never seen anything like it before. Years later, I still love its whimsical florishes, such as a curious donkey's cameo appearance in Christ's nativity scene.

Dean and I also took time out to view some of Gaudí’s other iconic works around the city. This included the oddly angular and fluid façade of Casa Milà, and the Venetian mask-like balconies of Casa Batlló, a multi-story apartment block, and Park Güell, a hillside complex of parks and gardens filled with dramatic architectural elements.

After some Google searching, I discovered that the image above wasn’t taken in Park Güell as I’d originally thought. This sculpture of five leaping Gazelles stands in Ciutadella Park. It’s a tribute to Walt Disney, erected a few years after he died in 1966. The park was the city's first and only green space for decades following its creation in 1872. However, the park’s most famous sculpture is actually a giant stone-carved life-sized Woolly Mammoth. It seems this didn’t rate a mention in my photo album.

On 2 October 1990, Dean and I boarded our next Eurail train and headed south for Cordoba, the former heartland of the invading Moors. Our route took us south along the coast as far as Valencia, before turning inland. You can learn more about our time in Andalusia here.

One final note.  I've illustrated this post with a blend of scanned photos taken in 1990 and more recent photos from 2008, when Garry and I visited Barcelona for his 40th Birthday celebrations.

 

Coming up next

In August last year, we decided to take advantage of a hotel deal in Vanuatu. Airfares were also on special at the time. As a result, we've booked ourselves into the Eratap Beach Resort, near Port Vila, for some beachside R&R in early June.  We've booked a beachfront villa for 11 days.  If the real deal looks anything like the images online, it'll be a welcome break. 

Our package includes airport transfers, breakfast, a couple of massages, and an AUD150 meal credit we can put towards lunch or dinner.  The resort also has a complimentary daily shuttle bus to Port Vila. After our recent, rather expensive, excursion around the world, I'm glad we booked and paid for most of this holiday in advance. 

I've recently discovered that the land diving festival is in full swing on nearby Pentacost Island. These are the world's original bungy jumpers, who leap from ramshackle timber towers with nothing more than vines tied around their feet. The resort says it may be possible for us to book a day tour to see this death-defying rite of passage in action. Watch this space.

Once this vacation is done, we have one more domestic excursion to plan. We agreed to do Christmas in July with friends in Alstonville, near Ballina. We've yet to finalise the details.  However, I imagine we'll end up scheduling an extended weekend or similar, and share the driving to get there and back in a single day.  Then, once this trip is done, we have nothing more planned for the rest of the year.

Living in two worlds

Today’s headlines reflect the best and worst of humanity. This morning, NASA launched a manned rocket that’s now heading for the moon. Artemis II is scheduled to spend ten days in space. For the next 25 hours, four astronauts will orbit the Earth at an altitude of 74,000km, checking and testing their Orion capsule's systems, before reigniting its service module engine and sending it towards the moon.

The astronauts won’t land on the moon’s surface. That feat is reserved for a future mission. Instead, they’ll loop around Earth’s natural satellite in what’s known as a free return lunar fly-by trajectory. This is a flight path that uses the moon’s gravity to automatically return the capsule to Earth without firing its rocket again.

In many ways, Artemis II resembles Apollo 8. This mission, which launched in December 1968, was the first time humans flew to the moon and returned safely to Earth. However, unlike the current mission, Apollo 8 went into orbit around the moon, circling it ten times before reigniting its rocket and returning to Earth.

Artemis II will establish at least one space exploration first. Its free-return trajectory will see it fly more than 7400 kilometres past the far side of the moon, more than 400,000 kilometres from Earth. This is the furthest any human has ever ventured into space. Apollo astronauts typically flew less than 120 km above the moon’s surface.

Artemis II represents human ingenuity at its finest. It’s a potent symbol of what we can achieve as a species when we aspire to greatness. It’s also an inspiring example of the USA’s extraordinary wealth, leadership and technical know-how.

Contrast this with the war currently unfolding in the Middle East. Five weeks ago, the USA and Israel launched a coordinated aerial attack on Iran. Since then, both nations have relentlessly bombed the Persian nation, destroying military assets and killing its leaders. Iran has responded by attacking its Gulf neighbours, damaging critical oil and gas production infrastructure, while attacks on tankers passing through the Strait of Hormuz have all but stopped oil from flowing out of the Middle East.

President Trump's rationale for starting the war and its ultimate objectives have morphed over time. However, one thing is clear. The quick and easy victory he plainly anticipated has failed to materialise. There's now every prospect of the USA becoming bogged down in prolonged conflict or withdrawing shortly, only to be drawn back in to finish the job at some future point.

The Iranian regime’s resolve hasn’t weakened, despite the devastation of American and Israeli airborne attacks. Instead, global economic activity is cracking under the strain. To quote a recent commentator, “The closure of the Strait of Hormuz has transformed economic prospects globally from the relatively benign to inflationary and, very possibly, in a worst-case scenario, deeply recessionary.”

What seems to have become an increasingly pointless conflict is now at risk of damaging the world’s economy for months, if not years, to come. Iran’s regime remains intact and inevitably more motivated than ever to accelerate its ambitions to develop a nuclear weapon. I'm not sure it's made the world a safer place. 

Meanwhile, here in Australia, most commentators, including the Reserve Bank of Australia, expect inflation to peak at five per cent, further interest rate rises, higher unemployment and greater economic uncertainty. It’s not the kind of year anyone wanted. The USA’s capricious actions in the Middle East stand in stark contrast to this morning’s historic launch at the Kennedy Space Centre. It's like we're living in two completely different worlds.

UPDATE: 10:58am, 3 April

I've just watched live as the Orion spacecraft completed its Translunar Injection Burn, a five-minute rocket burn that sends it to the moon. The last time humans headed for the moon, they were on board Apollo 17. This final moon landing mission took place in December 1972, more than 53 years ago. 

UPDATE: 4 April

The image above was taken by one of the astronauts aboard Orion. It shows the Atlantic Ocean bordered by Africa on the right and cloud-covered South America on the left. If you look closely, you can see auruoa glowing over both poles. Venus makes a guest appearance in the top left corner. The last time we saw an image like this was during Apollo 17.

Out for a duck

We joined friends for a long and leisurely lunch at the Three Blue Ducks today. We came together to celebrate Ian’s forthcoming birthday. He enjoyed our boozy lunch here last year, so we’ve returned for a second round. 

The afternoon passed in a flash with plenty of wine and laughter. The restaurant manager also recognised us from our last visit and kindly comped us a couple of menu items, including a special cheesecake dessert for Ian. 

We eventually dragged ourselves out of the venue around 3:15pm, in part motivated by staff packing up surrounding furniture. Everyone then joined us for an afternoon of cocktails in the sun on our rooftop balcony. A wonderful, and possibly final, late-Summer fling before daylight finally ends next weekend. 

Missing a trick

As seasoned travellers, Garry and I can normally get ourselves from A to B without too much trouble. Occasionally, we cut things a bit fine. For example, the collection of our motorhome in New Zealand in December and the return of our rental car in London last month. However, we’ve only missed three flights ever, and on each occasion the airline came to party rebooking us without penalty. Sadly, this record came to an inglorious end while in transit to Germany in January.

First, a recap on our previously missed flights. The first of these was a flight from London to Rome in 2003, our first trip together. We didn’t allow enough time to get to Heathrow using the Tube and arrived at check-in after the flight had closed. British Airways happily rebooked us onto a later flight, although I gave up my business class ticket to secure a seat.

The second missed flight occurred when we were stranded in Antarctica in 2011.  LAN happily rebooked us on alternative flights departing three days later than originally scheduled, without penalty. This was also another round-the-world ticket.

Our third missed flight happened in 2014. We foolishly thought we were on the second of two Qantas flights departing Los Angeles that evening. We arrived at check-in shortly after the earlier flight closed, and discovered to our horror, it was the flight we’d booked. Qantas gave us a hotel voucher for the night and rebooked us for the following day at no cost. Garry then scored us a First Class points upgrade. 

Fast forward now to our latest endeavour. Our round-the-world ticket had us booked from Barbados to Frankfurt via Heathrow. We landed in the UK early in the morning on 26 January, then had a five-hour layover before catching our flight to Germany. British Airways doesn’t announce flights in its Heathrow lounges. I had momentarily thought of setting an alarm on my phone when we entered the lounge, but got distracted and never did it.

We lost track of time and ultimately missed our second flight. We realised our mistake ten minutes before the flight closed.  However, the plane was parked at a remote gate, which required a bus transfer to reach it. As a result, we rocked up to the gate after racing through the entire terminal, only to find the flight had closed early to accommodate a final bus transfer. 

At first, we didn't panic.  We were travelling in business class, and British Airways told us there were plenty of seats on the next available flight departing at 5:00pm. However, they said we had to reschedule our flight via Qantas as it was the issuing agent for our ticket. This is when the fun really began.

We called Qantas. It told us it had no ticketing access to any of the empty seats on this flight. The earliest it could get us into Frankfurt was Wednesday evening, via Madrid. In other words, two days after Spielwarenmesse started. We explained that BA was willing to allocate seats for us. However, multiple phone calls to Qantas and conversations with BA's airport staff did nothing to shift the needle in our favour. 

We’d also flown Mitchell to Germany for the first time. He’d arrived on Saturday and thus was already waiting for us in Nuremberg. As I put it to Garry, this was one time we'd have to suck it up and do everything necessary to arrive in Nuremberg in time to join Mitch for the tradeshow's opening day. Even more so, considering we’d emphatically told Mitch not to miss any of his travel connections.

As a result, we were forced to pay for a reissue of our RTW ticket, adding a land leg between London and Frankfurt, then buy two last-minute one-way British Airways tickets to Frankfurt. The evening flight also arrived too late for us to catch the last high-speed ICE train to Nuremberg. This meant we had to book a hotel at the airport, cancel our original train ticket and buy a new one.

I booked us into the Hilton Garden Inn directly above the train station at Frankfurt Airport. The following morning, we caught the 5:30am train to Nuremberg, arriving at our hotel shortly after 8:00am, in time to join Mitch for breakfast. To cap off the experience, thanks to a dodgy shower drain and an elevated shower box, I flooded the bathroom floor in our airport hotel room. I spent 15 minutes frantically mopping up more than 5 cm of water sloshing around the room.

The new flights, extra hotel booking and new train tickets cost us an eye-watering $2.2k. We’ve also learned a hard lesson about the limitations of last-minute changes to round-the-world tickets - even in business class. Although I’m still mystified as to why this change proved impossible to make when others, such as our rescheduled flights in South America, were trouble-free and cost us nothing. Our South American ticket was booked through the Flight Centre, whereas this year’s was booked directly with Qantas. Perhaps that’s the difference?

One final anecdote.  Our train from Nuremberg back to Frankfurt Airport was delayed almost an hour after unauthorised people were reported on the track ahead. As a result, we had to race through the main airport terminal, transfer by Sky Train to a satellite terminal and race to the BA counter before our flight closed. We checked in with less than ten minutes to spare. I can't believe we almost missed a second flight.

If I'm honest, the tight transfer was partially my fault. It cropped up a few months ago when British Airways rescheduled our original flight to one departing almost 90 minutes earlier.  I had considered changing our train ticket, but decided we'd still arrive at least 80 minutes before check-in closed. Little did I think we'd ever need any leeway.  Perhaps we're becoming a little too complacent with tight transfers? 

Celtic Thunder Down Under

We've celebrated St. Patrick's Day a little differently this year. Months ago, I stumbled upon an Irish quartet called Celtic Thunder. The group performs a selection of original songs and popular easy-listening classics with an energetic Irish twist. They're currently touring Australia for the first time in more than a decade. Apparently, they were very popular here for many years, securing a string of ARIA album sales accolades between 2010 and 2013.  On a whim, I bought us tickets to their Sydney concert.

One of the group's founding members, Damien McGinty, also starred on Glee, a popular television show that began broadcasting while we were living in London. He played a slightly mischievous Irish exchange student at a fictional American High School.

Garry and I grabbed a quick pre-theatre bite to eat at The Grounds of The City, before heading to the State Theatre. The show was lots of fun. Celtic Thunder delivered a few classics we both knew, while other songs they belted out were just as entertaining. The vocal skills of one member, Emmet Cahill, were simply stunning. I'd happily listen to him in concert any time. He's second from right in the image above.

I must admit, this is the first time I've booked concert tickets for a group I've never heard of. Although now that we've seen the demographic they typically attract, I understand why. It appears that the group's fan base consists largely of middle-aged and elderly women. Let's just say there weren't a lot of blokes in the room at the State Theatre on Tuesday.

The Caribbean in a nutshell

I've finally completed editing and updating posts about our 14-day cruise through the Caribbean. Follow the links below to relive this incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience.

In case you're curious, here's a link to a post I’ve published about our cabin and our cruise ship, the Silver Shadow, along with a few details about the boat itself.

DATE	PORT	COUNTRY
10 Jan	Flight from New York to Sint Maarten
10 Jan	La Samanna, Philipsburg	Saint Martin
11 Jan	Philipsburg	Sint Maarten
12 Jan	St. John’s	Antigua & Barbuda
13 Jan	Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas	US Virgin Islands
14 Jan	Little Bay	Montserrat
15 Jan	Castries	St. Lucia
16 Jan	Port Elizabeth, Bequia	St Vincent & Grenadines
17 Jan	Les Saintes	Guadeloupe
18 Jan	Philipsburg	Sint Maarten
19 Jan	Cruz Bay, St John	US Virgin Islands
20 Jan	Gustavia	St. Barthelemy
21 Jan	Roseau	Dominica
22 Jan	St George’s	Grenada
23 Jan	Trois Ilets	Martinique
24 Jan	Kingstown	St Vincent & Grenadines
25 Jan	Bridgetown	Barbados
25 Jan	Flight from Barbados to London

You can also use the following links to relive other destinations we visited on our round-the-world ticket. Watch this space as I progressively add new posts for each location. There's a lot of ground to cover!

• NYE at Cooks Beach in New Zealand
• Reliving old memories in New York
• Overnight hell in Frankfurt
• Record snowfall in Nuremberg
• Doing London the way we used to
• Exploring Sentosa Island in Singapore

The tale of two hotels

Our recent trip to New York wasn’t all colourful sights and sounds. During our stay, two hotels unexpectedly made me pause for thought. Each reminded me how precious life is, and how important it is to live each day to the full.

On our first night in town, Garry and I took a short detour to walk past the Casablanca Hotel. Thirteen years ago, I stayed here with Mum and Dad during our whirlwind visit to the Big Apple. The hotel was less than 100 metres from Times Square, making it easier for Dad to take in its dazzling billboards and energetic vibe.

Our detour was well timed. The following day, we paused to remember the anniversary of Dad’s death. Dad loved New York and was delighted he got to tick it off his bucket list, barely three months before he died. Mum was also grateful for the experience. Although she'd have loved to visit a few of the city's museums if we'd had more time. It was sad to reflect that in the intervening years, Mum has also passed away.

On our final night in Manhattan, Garry and I walked past Hotel Edison on our way home from the theatre. I stayed here as an exchange student while on a High School Arts Club trip to New York City in 1983. As students, we attended the ballet at the Lincoln Centre, watched La Cage aux Folles at the Palace Theatre, toured the Met and MOMA, and visited the United Nations.

It was a cathartic moment standing there and reflecting on my life’s journey. The 18-year-old version of me had stood here with his whole life stretching out before him, wondering where it would take him. Now, 42 years later, the 60-year-old version of me was standing here looking back, wondering, “Have I used my time wisely? Would 18-year-old me be proud?”

It’s a humble experience to have a venue like this symbolically bookending my life’s journey. It’s also a timely reminder to make the most of my remaining years. I think I’ve done OK. If I have any doubts, rereading this blog offers plenty of reassurance.

Nieces and nephews

Earlier this month, I was back in Melbourne exhibiting at the Australian Toy Fair, our first trade show for the year. Ten years ago, Garry and I attended this event as Artiwood’s new owners for the first time. It’s hard to believe it’s been a decade already.

This year’s event was a mixed bag. Some smaller customers are doing well, while many of our largest customers told a different story. We heard that one of our low-cost brand competitors was up for sale, and another would love to sell up and retire. Others seem to be flourishing, or so they say. I sense that industry is undergoing a transition, but it’s hard to put a finger on it.

While I was in Melbourne, I caught up with my niece Brooke and her boyfriend Ben. They moved to Australia last month and are now actively job hunting. I took them out for dinner at Marmont in the Crown Casino complex. It’s replaced a fancy Italian restaurant that Garry and I dined at only once before. We took our largest customer out for dinner at Toy Fair several years ago.

I admire Brooke and Ben’s courage in relocating across the Tasman to start a new life. It’s not easy to move to another country without a job, where you don’t know anyone, and know nothing about its culture, rules and regulations. To inspire them, I shared my own story of starting a new life with nothing when I first migrated to Australia. I hope they’ll have a similar story to share in the years ahead.

I also had dinner with Mitch, Garry’s nephew, one night. Mitch and I then joined a group of industry colleagues for dinner at Bang Pop, our favourite Thai restaurant, on another night. I guess you could say this year’s tradeshow entertaining was all about family.