Behind the iron curtain

Seven months after the fall of the Berlin Wall, I spent three months travelling through Eastern Europe. It was an unforgettable journey. Free elections were being held for the first time in more than four decades. Hope and optimism were palpable everywhere. However, the region’s dreary socialist infrastructure was still intact and its deep psychological scars had yet to heal. For a brief moment, I witnessed life behind the Iron Curtain before it vanished forever.

At the time, I was travelling with a group from Youth With A Mission (YWAM), a Christian missionary organisation. We travelled through Hungary, Yugoslavia, Romania and Bulgaria from May to August 1990 as part of YWAM's Discipleship Training School, or DTS, course. This was a six-month program, split between three months of practical study and three months of in-the-field outreach, preaching the gospel in the community.

My DTS studies began in Goulburn, an inland city in New South Wales. Several New Zealand friends had recently completed the course and spoke highly of their experience. I flew from Auckland to Sydney to join the course on 4 February 1990. Little did I know this flight kicked off 35 years living in Australia. I was joined in Goulburn by 22 others, plus several teaching staff including Tim, our charismatic base leader.

For three fun-filled months, we studied the scriptures, learned effective outreach techniques and prepared to go out into the wider community to preach the gospel. This included learning a non-verbal street drama, set to music, that presented the story of salvation. Without a hint of irony, I played the part of Satan. In April, I was invited to participate in YWAM’s inaugural outreach in Eastern Europe.

About a dozen of us subsequently departed for Europe on 14 May 1990. We flew to Vienna via Singapore and Amman with Royal Jordanian Airlines. We spent four days making final preparations for our foray into Eastern Europe at the YWAM centre in Baden, Austria. This included fitting out two minivans, preparing two large canvas tents on loan to us, and securing basic provisions to get through our first week.

Our flight to Vienna included a quirky stopover in Amman. Our connecting flight to Vienna departed about nine hours after arriving from Singapore. Royal Jordanian Airlines put us up in an airport hotel for six hours. However, by the time we'd waited for its shuttle bus, checked into the hotel and finally grabbed a shower, we managed less than four hours of rest (or sleep for a lucky few) before it was time to return to the terminal. I've never counted this stopover as my first time in Jordan. The same goes for a brief transit stop we made in Belgrade, Yugoslavia.

These days, with decades of global travel under my belt, I also look back on our arrival in Vienna with amusement. At the time, I recall walking out of the airport terminal and experiencing massive culture shock. We were suddenly surrounded by enormous billboards touting popular products and services. Everything was written in Deutsch. I couldn’t read a word of it. I recall vividly the overwhelming sense of vulnerability and helplessness I felt in that moment. Until that time, I’d always travelled in native English-speaking countries.

For three months, we travelled more than 6600km in our two minivans. We travelled as far north as Vienna, as far south as Porto Koufo in Northern Greece, as far west as Einigen, Switzerland and as far east as Varna on the Bulgarian Black Sea coast. Along the way, we passed through seven countries, although Yugoslavia later disintegrated into a myriad of smaller nation-states. We stopped overnight in, or passed through, at least four of these future nations.

One minivan, the newer yellow one, was on loan from YWAM in Switzerland, while the older, rattlier red one, was borrowed from a church in Austria. I spent most of my time riding in the red van. Our accommodation alternated between camping and staying with local families. Most of the women slept in one large tent, while the men slept in another. The two married couples in our group each had their own two-person tent.

We camped for a week or so in Hungary, throughout Yugoslavia, and for one night in Timisoara, Romania. The Romanian campground was an eye-opener.  The facilities were poorly maintained, and the toilet blocks were filled with human excrement.  It was our first insight into the impact of the Chuscheu regime's economic policies on everyday life. Decrepit, run-down infrastructure, appalling pollution and austere socialist architecture dominated the landscape wherever we went. The opening post, taken in Romania, offers just a hint of the experience.

We also camped several times in Bulgaria, staying in popular resort cities along the country's Black Sea coast. Then, when our outreach program ended, a group of us travelled south to Northern Greece, where we camped on a remote beach on the Chalkidiki Peninsula. It's fair to say that camping kept our expenses under control, and the European summer made it a pleasant experience. European campgrounds were often situated in shaded, tree-filled parks, alongside scenic lakes and other natural beauty spots.

Below is a brief overview of our final itinerary through Eastern Europe. In future posts, I’ll take you on this journey, sharing our adventures and introducing you to some of the wonderful people we met along the way. Follow this link to learn more about time in Hungary.

DAY	DATE	LOCATION	DRIVE (km)
Austria
MON	14 May	Sydney - Singapore	Flight
TUE	15 May	Singapore – Vienna (via Amman)
TUE	15 May	Vienna - Baden (by train)	24
SAT	19 May	Vienna – Czech Border	79
Hungary
SAT	19 May	Czech Border - Balatonfured	293
MON	28 May	Balatonfured - Debrecen (via Budapest)	346
FRI	8 June	Debrecen - Szombathely (via Budapest)	442
Yugoslavia
MON	11 June	Szombathely - Graz (via Vienna)	140
MON	11 June	Graz - Maribor	59
TUE	12 June	Maribor – Beograd (via Zagreb)	516
WED	13 June	Beograd - Timisoara	158
Romania
THU	14 June	Timisoara - Pitesti	454
FRI	22 June	Pitesti - Craiova	121
SAT	26 June	Craiova – Turnu Severin	113
WED	4 July	Turnu Severin - Motru	113
THU	5 July	Motru – Turgu Jiu	42
FRI	10 July	Turgu Jiu - Pitesti	174
SAT	11 July	Pitesti - Varna (via Bucharest)	389
Bulgaria
THU	19 July	Varna - Bourgas	134
TUE	24 July	Bourgas - Plovdiv	254
MON	30 July	Plovdiv - Sophia	149
Greece
MON	30 July	Sophia - Thessaloniki	293
TUE	31 July	Thessaloniki - Porto Koufo	148
FRI	3 Aug	Porto Koufo – Nea Mouldania	84
SAT	4 Aug	Driving through Yugoslavia (all night)	1877
SUN	5 Aug	Yugoslavia - Liechtenstein
MON	6 Aug	Liechtenstein - Einigen	219
Backpacking by Eurail
WED	8 Aug	Einigen - Helmstedt	Train
Click here to follow my backpacking adventures

Life as a gypsy

My sixtieth birthday has left me reflecting on my life thus far, especially its many twists and turns. Over the years, I’ve lived in four countries and, at last count, in at least 26 different homes. This tally includes my current home, which I’ve owned for more than 21 years.

Dad’s career at the Bank of New Zealand had a profound influence on my early life. To advance his career, he continually accepted promotions with the bank, which involved relocating the entire family throughout New Zealand. Over the years, we lived in Greymouth on the South Island’s West Coast, Paraparaumu on the North Island’s Kapiti Coast, Dunedin and Morrinsville in the central Waikato. The image above shows my parents and me outside my first home in Greymouth.

Above all are the family homes I lived in as a child. From top to bottom, Greymouth, Paraparaumu, Dunedin and Morrinsville. Every home had one thing in common. My parents always chose a house within walking distance to school and close to an open green space. For example, in Paraparaumu, we lived in a new subdivision; as a result, we had open sections all around (many of which were filled with Lupin bushes that we repurposed into huts and jungle tunnels) and a creek out the back. At the end of our cul-de-sac street was the local golf course enclosed by a tree-lined boundary fence. 

The house in Greymouth backed onto farmland and included a steep grassy incline that was home to the family's goat. In Dunedin, the house backed onto a school playing field while in Morrinsville, we backed onto open farmland with paddocks, a tree-lined pond and a fast-flowing creek. We often spent our Summer building earthen dams across the creek or catching frogs in the pond.  

On several occasions, we lived in a motel for four or five months before my parents finally bought a new home in our new town. This included a stint at the Bayfield Motel in Anderson Bay, Dunedin, and a motel in Morrinsville. I distinctly recall our time in the Morrinsville Motel. Directly across the road was the local cinema. However, it was the convenience store next door that captivated my brothers and. Its front counter included a candy buffet. Customers could choose a selection of treats from the display including bargain options offering three sweets for the princely sum of one cent. It was a dream come true for a ten year old child.

No doubt these inter-island transfers go some way to explaining how Hamish and I came to live overseas during our adult years. We were clearly comfortable with uprooting our lives and relocating again and again. Relocating regularly in early childhood had a profound impact on my well-being. I often struggled being the new kid at school. Later in life, as an adult, my mother revealed my school in Dunedin even recommended that I be formally assessed by a clinical psychologist. However, we moved again to Morrinsville before this could occur. Mum admitted she was reluctant to refer me at the time.

I recall an incident in Dunedin where I lost my cool at the teacher and stormed out of the classroom. The teacher later found me sitting under a tree by the school boundary fence. I distinctly recall my behaviour emulating a similar tantrum I'd witnessed from another child. I suspect I loved the drama of it all. However. I also remember being shocked when my parents were told of my behaviour.  It was the first time I learned that school and home life were intrinsically linked. Until that point they’d always been two distinctly separate worlds.

I also recall some mildly neurotic behaviour in my final year of primary school in Morrinsville. Most notably, I stopped eating my lunch at school. I couldn’t fathom how anyone could bring themselves to eat in front of strangers. As a result, much to my mother’s frustration, I’d take my uneaten lunch home every day. The following year, I started Intermediate school, which was ten minutes walk from home. I started going home for lunch each day, a ritual I continued right through high school. Eating lunch alone definitely appealed to my introverted nature.

After I left for university in 1985, my parents moved four more times. First to Hunterville, and then Taihape. My parents then relocated one final time with the bank to Matamata in 1992, where my father eventually retired four years later. They made one final move to Mount Maunganui to live their final years by the beach. They both passed away here. Dad first in 2013, and Mum last year. That's their final home below.

Hamish and I both left home while living in Morrinsville. Matt joined the bank for his first job out of school in Taihape, before my parents relocated and left him to fend for himself. I left home for the first time when I went to the USA as an exchange student for a year in 1983. I returned for seven months before heading off to university.

I then returned briefly for a few weeks at a time for several years during university holidays. However, I never moved back home again after my parents relocated to Hunterville. For the next decade, I became somewhat of a gypsy, living in a total of 16 different homes. Excluding my parents’ house, I lived in six different locations during university. I then moved another ten times before finally putting down roots in the inner-Sydney suburb of Surry Hills, where I rented a two-bedroom apartment for a decade.

I also travelled in Australia and Europe for a year in 1990. Initially, with an organisation called Youth with A Mission (YWAM) – you can read about this experience here – and then backpacking through Europe for four months. For a long time, my itinerant address often drove my parents to distraction. I also got very good at packing all my worldly possessions into the back of a rented van and relocating in a single day. In fact, it wasn’t until I moved into Surry Hills, in 1993, that I seriously began accumulating more than just bedroom furniture (i.e. a bed, a chest of drawers, a bookcase and a storage chest).

While living in Surry Hills, my furniture collection grew to include a Dining Suite, Lounges, storage shelves, outdoor furniture, and home appliances, including a fridge, microwave, washing machine, TV and a stereo. Likewise, as the years passed, my worldly possessions grew to include an entire household of linen, cutlery, crockery and other miscellaneous items such as Christmas decorations. The Surry Hills apartment is shown above.  For years, friends called it the David Jones showroom, naming it after an upmarket Australian department store.

As a classic introvert, I sometimes struggled to live in a shared flat environment. I also trialled a few different living environments along the way, occasionally succumbing to shiny-object syndrome, where a glamorous home enticed me. For example, one place I lived in for nine months in Roseville had a pool in the backyard (which I don’t recall ever swimming in), another in Drummoyne offered sweeping views of the Parramatta River as it transitions into Sydney Harbour. In hindsight, I was slow to learn that the people you live with matter more than a fancy house.  

The Drummoyne apartment is shown above. It's the balcony displaying an enormous Australian flag, while the photo of me was taken from a side balcony. Below is our current home in Redfern. I'd like to think that I’ve finally got the balance right between a home with a great location and an ideal stage for building treasured memories with friends and family.

Since relocating to Surry Hills, I’ve moved again twice. First, to my current home in Redfern – a three-bedroom sub-penthouse apartment I bought with my partner in 2003 – then to London for business for five years, before returning to Redfern. By the time we relocated to London, our household goods (including a car) filled an entire 40-foot container. Gone were the days when a rental van was enough.

Where to next?

We’re gearing up for another round-the-world extravaganza. It’s been more than 15 years since we last booked an RTW ticket. Garry and I used to buy tickets every year while living in London, starting in Sydney and finishing there a year later. This ensured that we returned to Australia (and often New Zealand) once a year.

On 27 December, we’ll depart Sydney for a six-week circuit that’ll finish on 9 February. We fly to New Zealand for ten days and spend time with my brothers, before flying directly to New York for business. Most of our time in New Zealand will be on the Coromandel Peninsula. We’ll spend six nights at Cooks Beach, where Shelley’s parents own a holiday house, before taking a road trip down the peninsula’s west coast with Hamish and Karin.

There'll be a large crowd at Cooks Beach. As a result, Garry and I have hired a fancy motor home to ensure we’ll have somewhere comfortable to sleep. While we're there, I'm hoping to tick off another bucket list item with a visit to Cathedral Cove. On 2 January, we’ll then form a convoy with Hamish and Karin as they drive their motorhome across the peninsula to Colville, then on to Coromandel township before finishing our time in New Zealand with an overnight stay at Kaiaua Beach.

I'm looking forward to the trip. The Coromandel’s west coast has been on my bucket list for decades.

Our flight to New York is another bucket list experience. Qantas began flying nonstop from Auckland in 2023. It’s currently the airline’s second-longest nonstop route. Garry and I have already taken its longest nonstop flight from Perth to London twice (including January this year). I love the idea of skipping a bothersome transit in Los Angeles or Dallas.

We have several business commitments in New York. However, we’ve booked the musical Six for a night out on Broadway. We’re also being taken for dinner by one of our American suppliers. Our final night in town will be spent in the iconic TWA Hotel at JFK Airport. Another bucket list item completed. We’ve also reserved a seat at the hotel’s cocktail bar, set up inside a lovingly restored Lockheed Super Constellation aeroplane.

On 10 January, we catch an early morning flight from JFK to Sint Maarten in the Caribbean. Here we’ll embark on a 14-day Silversea cruise that takes us to 12 countries, basically a new port every day. This is a special Sixtieth Birthday present for me, funded by my mother’s estate. In essence, it’s her final gift to me. I know Mum would have loved to do something like this, and would be delighted to know she’d made it possible for Garry and me.

There are so many bucket list moments throughout the cruise. First, we’ll spend time at Sunset Beach in Sint Maarten, where large jet aircraft swoop overhead as they come into land at the island’s international airport, just metres from the shore. Second, we’ll stop at Montserrat and visit its former capital, Plymouth, which was buried by volcanic ash and pyroclastic flows in 1996. Third, we’ll finally get to see the Gros and Petit Pitons on St Lucia. These are two breathtaking emerald peaks that rise dramatically from the sea (check out the image below). Their pyramid shape reminds me of the iconic Mitre Peak in Milford Sound.

We’ll finish our cruise in Barbados on 25 January. From here, we fly directly to London, then transfer onto flights to Germany, where we’ll spend the week walking trade show halls in Nuremberg as we’ve done annually since 2016 (setting aside a two-year hiatus during the COVID pandemic). On 31 January, we’ll fly to London for more business meetings, before making our way home with a weekend stopover in Singapore. Watch this space!

Note: All images used to illustrate this post were pulled from the web. I claim no copyright, but certainly look forward to sharing my own web-worthy photographs.

From small beginnings big things grow

This is a post about my twenty-year career in technology public relations. I’m motivated to share this life story for two reasons. First, as I testified in a recent post, technology is once again revolutionising modern life courtesy of Artificial Intelligence (AI). I witnessed similar transformative inflexion points during my IT career. Second, Garry and I recently celebrated the tenth anniversary of acquiring Artiwood, our wholesale toy company. Hence, it’s been 13 years since I chose to end my public relations career.

My career in the public relations industry began in 1993 when I answered a small advertisement in the Sydney Morning Herald newspaper. The ad simply asked if I enjoyed writing about the technology industry. I duly applied and was ultimately appointed as a public relations consultant by Recognition Public Relations. This was a boutique agency focused on the technology industry.

At the time, the company was owned by Steve Townsend. A few days before I started, he relocated the business from an old, converted terrace house in Rozelle to shiny new offices in Drummoyne. For the next five years, I worked at Recognition, making my way through the ranks, eventually becoming Steve’s second-in-charge. Steve was a superb boss. He was a kind and generous man who demanded consistently high standards of service and performance.

As a technology specialist, I championed clients such as Scientific Atlanta (now part of Cisco), Lotus Development (now part of IBM), Digital Equipment Corporation (now part of HP), Telstra (Australia’s largest telecommunications carrier), and Cabletron. Steve taught me to write, encouraged me to excel in all things, and continually had my back as a consultant during these formative years.

After five years, Steve offered me an opportunity to buy into his business. It was a compelling offer. However, at the tender age of 33, I wasn’t ready to settle down and spend the next, however many decades owning a small business. As fate would have it, a headhunter contacted me in January 1998, a few days after returning from annual leave. It was a quiet week. My diary was empty, so I agreed to meet her.

To cut a long story short, in April 1998, I accepted a job at Text 100. At the time, this UK-based public relations agency was embarking on a global expansion. One of its executives, Ava Lawler, was tasked with establishing the company’s first outpost in the Asia Pacific. I was appointed, as a local insider, to help her establish an office in Sydney. Ava is on the right in the image above. Our CEO, Aedhmar Hynes, is in the middle.

Ava and I were a powerful duo. We brought complementary skills to the business and complementary personalities. Like all opposites, we clashed as often as we synergised. However, together we built one of Text 100’s most successful start-up ventures at the time. Ava was a savvy operator who championed me internally within the company and helped me establish my credentials. I owe much of my subsequent career to her early support.

As my LinkedIn profile attests, I went on to become Text 100’s Managing Director for Australia and New Zealand, leading teams that secured noteworthy accounts, including Apple and IBM. In 2002, I was appointed Regional Director for Asia Pacific. I spent the next three years managing a network of ten offices, transforming the region from a loose collection of entrepreneurial start-ups into a unified, commercially oriented, and profitable entity.

During this period, I had the privilege of overseeing the company’s first foray into Mainland China. Under the leadership of Chris Tang, Text 100 opened three offices in Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou. As a result, I travelled regularly into China, supporting Chris and her team as they pitched for global accounts, including ARM and IBM. It was an extraordinary time watching this nation transform itself overnight. Elsewhere, an equally profound transformation was unfolding in India.

I learned a great deal about myself and the world, working cross-culturally for more than a decade. As individuals, we all carry unconscious biases. Exposure to other cultures, often in pressure-cooker situations, inevitably brought them out of the shadows. As a result, my Anglo-centric worldview was constantly tested and challenged. I came to understand that every culture has its own rhythm, its own aesthetic and its own expression of the human experience. My CEO will testify to the burnout I suffered during my first year as regional director. I learned a valuable lesson about the futility of resisting cultural norms and trying to bend them to your will. 

In 2005, I accepted an opportunity to relocate to London and run the company’s European network, a role that included responsibility for an office in South Africa. It was this relocation that prompted the creation of this blog. At the time, I found it increasingly hard to keep family and friends updated on our adventures. It was impossible to recall who’d been told what as emails and phone calls flowed. A friend who’d relocated to London around the same time showed me a blog he’d started, and the rest, as they say, is history.

My career at Text 100 finally ended in July 2012. At the time, it was a bold decision, without a clear roadmap ahead. I just knew i had to do something different. I’d joined Text 100 during an entrepreneurial global growth phase. As the years passed, I rose through the ranks to become its Global Chief Operating Officer (COO). Each role brought new challenges and new experiences. 

However, one common thread linked them all. My roles were always entrepreneurial by nature. I was constantly pioneering new entities and reforming old ones. Very little of what did involved maintaining the status quo. 

Everything changed after the Global Financial Crisis (GFC). Text 100’s parent company, Next Fifteen, launched a new strategic focus, committing the Group to reducing its financial dependency on the technology sector, and on Text 100, its largest subsidiary. The strategy made perfect sense for the Group, but not for me. 

As COO, my role had evolved from one of reform and GFC crisis management to one of relentless financial optimisation. A task best suited for a traditional Chartered Professional Accountant (CPA). Accounting and Pure Mathematics were courses I came perilously close to failing at university. A CPA I was not. I sensed my contribution was no longer valued by the Group, especially its CEO. It was time to move on while my credentials were solid and my reputation intact.

In hindsight, perhaps I could have evolved the role and played more to my strengths? Perhaps persevering for another year would have made all the difference?  I’ll never know. However, one thing I know for sure is that the last 13 years have been filled with wonderful adventures. Garry and I have maintained our standard of living, continued travelling the globe, and built a business we’re proud to own.  My career in the technology industry has served me well. I am forever grateful for the lifestyle it’s afforded me, and the people I’ve met along the way.

The Lord moves in mysterious ways

This is the story of how I came to live in Australia. It’s a story I’ve told many times over the years. However, it never fails to surprise people. The person I was then is not the same person I am today. Back then, so much was hidden and so much was in flux.

I landed at Sydney Airport on Sunday, 4 February 1990. This was my second time in Australia, having previously visited for a week in November 1988. You can learn more about my first time here. Below is the passport stamp recording my arrival. Little did I know this stamp would signal the beginning of 35 years as an Australian resident, and eventually, a dual citizen.

At the time, I’d just completed a season working on a friend’s dairy farm near Raglan, a coastal town on the North Island of New Zealand. For 11 months, I’d worked as a farmhand, milking more than 200 cows twice a day. The farm itself was located at Okete, on a peninsula overlooking the harbour. You learn more about the farm here.

My time on the farm was an intentional act on my part. In November 1988, I completed my four-year university degree, graduating with a Bachelor of Management Studies with Honours. After focusing on academic achievement for four years, I wanted to rebalance my life experience by working with my hands rather than my mind.

The farm was owned by the Wallis family. Two of the family’s ancestors, James and Mary, had arrived in Raglan as Christian missionaries in 1835. They were the first European settlers in the area. In my first year at university, I shared a dormitory room in the student residence with Don, the family's eldest son. 

Don and I connected immediately. We shared a common bond as former high school exchange students. He'd recently returned from Japan, while I'd been in the USA.  As luck would have it, I was also studying Japanese language at the University, so it was handy to have a fluent Japanese speaker right next door.

Our room was a unique set-up in the student halls. Don and I had our own bedroom, which opened into a central study room. This three-room floor plan was situated at the end of the building, with views looking over the university’s sports fields and farmland beyond. Only three rooms in the entire building boasted a separate study room.

It didn’t take long for our study room to become party central, while its ground-floor location meant we could climb out of the window unseen for late-night adventures. Don and I became good friends. His brother Shaun, who was a year younger, became one of my closest friends during my university years. For three years, I spent most of my summer vacation living and working on the family farm.

The photos opening this post were taken on my 20th Birthday in a holiday bach (cabin) on the farm. From left to right, me, Don, Rachael (a mutual friend) and Don's mother. Yes, I had a perm then, and yes, Don is wearing a dressing gown because he'd decided it was a little cold in the bach that day. Don and I had driven out to his farm for an afternoon visit on my birthday. His Mum decided to have a spontaneous afternoon tea to celebrate the occasion at a bach on the harbour foreshore.

Don was a bit of a free spirit. He often saw rules and regulations as guidelines rather than strict boundaries. As a result, he’d sometimes adhere to them in an arbitrary manner, or at least that's how it often seemed to me. Don’t get me wrong, Don was a law-abiding citizen; he just occasionally bent the rules with a cheeky grin.

Don was also a fundamental Christian. He informally introduced me to the scriptures, and a more liberal interpretation of the bible than I’d experienced as a child growing up in the Anglican faith. In fact, if I’m totally honest, the local vicar expelled me from Sunday School about the age of 11, much to my mother’s embarrassment.

By simply living his life of faith as a free spirit, Don’s example encouraged me to explore his faith. I decided that I’d rejected Christianity based on my experience with a religious institution, the Anglican Church, rather than on the message it was attempting to share. To cut a long story short, much to everyone’s surprise (including Don), I became a fundamental Christian in my first year at university.

Fast forward five years. My brief stint as a full-time farmhand finished in late 1989. Shaun completed his final year of university and returned to the family farm. It was always clear that he’d be the son who’d ultimately take on the family business. As a result, I needed to decide what was next. In the final two years at university, I took a couple of Political Science courses and thoroughly enjoyed them. I decided to return to university for two more years and complete a Master's degree in Political Science.

However, fate (or perhaps, faith) intervened. In early 1990, shortly before university enrolment commenced, I decided to do an entry-level Christian Missionary course with Youth With A Mission (YWAM). The Discipleship Training School, or DTS, that I chose was based in Goulburn, an inland city in New South Wales. Several Okete friends had completed the course and spoke highly of the experience.

Hence, I arrived on Australia’s shores in February 1990, ready to study as a Christian missionary. The DTS course was a six-month program, split between three months of practical study and three months of in-the-field outreach, preaching the gospel in the community.

YWAM Goulburn operated out of a former Catholic orphanage. This was a large double-storey, red brick and white weatherboard building situated on a hill overlooking the town. The dormitories and bathrooms were located on the first floor, while the classrooms, dining hall and communal spaces were on the ground floor. In the photo above, I slept in the bottom bunk visible in the middle of the image. Sadly, the building was demolished in 2023, after being ravaged by fire several years earlier.

There were 23 students in my DTS course, from across the globe. The group included a couple from Switzerland, two Canadians, an American and a couple from Indonesia. We were an odd bunch, from all walks of life. Some were solo parents, some farmers, and others, including me, were university graduates.

 

For three fun-filled months, from 5 February to 13 May, we studied the scriptures, learned effective outreach techniques and prepared to go out into the wider community to preach the gospel. This included learning a non-verbal street drama, set to music, that presented the story of salvation. Without a hint of irony, I played the part of Satan.

The time in Goulburn wasn’t all study. I became good friends with Dean, a Victorian sheep farmer, and Michele, a woman from Sydney. The three of us frequently ventured out for a bit of fun. This included a night at the pub, day trips to watch One Day Cricket at the Sydney Cricket Ground (SCG) or to go swimming in the Shoalhaven River near Braidwood, and a day trip to Canberra to watch the AFL. I also spent Easter weekend on Dean’s farm near Portland.

In late February, YWAM held its annual national conference in Canberra. Our class attended the event each day. An inspirational guest speaker spoke about Eastern Europe opening up after more than forty years of Communist, and by extension, atheist rule. He highlighted an emerging opportunity to share the gospel with millions who’d been denied its message for decades.

A month or so later, YWAM decided to send its first outreach missionary team into Eastern Europe. I was chosen to join the team. On 14 May 1990, about a dozen of us flew to Vienna to embark on an extraordinary three-month journey through Hungary, Yugoslavia, Romania and Bulgaria, preaching the gossip on the streets of Eastern Europe. That’s a story for another time.

I’m often asked if I’m “still religious”. The honest answer is no. I’ve chosen to embrace my sexuality as another expression of a fundamental truth in my life. However, it would be another three years after my return from Europe before this stage of my life unfolded. That’s also a story for another time.

I have so many happy memories from this period in my life. I loved my time on the Wallis farm, the friends I made in Okete and my time at YWAM. I learned a great deal about myself and the world around me. As a closeted gay man, full of fear and self-doubt, I experienced love and acceptance in abundance. For a time, Christianity gave me a purpose and a focus that I'd have otherwise lacked in my early twenties.

This was also a time when the AIDS epidemic was sweeping the globe. The first antiretroviral drug used to treat HIV arrived on the scene in 1987, followed by highly active antiretroviral therapy (HAART) in 1996, a protocol that boosted the life expectancy of someone with HIV by 15 years. In other words, HIV was doing its worst during my university years, and its treatment was relatively ineffective until six years after I arrived in Australia.

This high-risk era for young gay men coincided with my fundamental Christian years. I would have come out at a younger age without them. Likewise, I spent most of my university vacations on a farm with a Christian family, free from the vices and temptations of city life. Without these moral and physical constraints, I’m certain I would have seroconverted.  In other words, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that Christianity saved my life.