Returning to Sydney over the past few days, I’ve had several moments to reflect. The first thing that struck me was how chaotic the traffic was and how much everyone loved their brakes. I’ve forgotten how to drive in traffic, constantly on and off the brake, and I almost collided with several cars over the weekend. Sitting quietly in the passenger seat, my poor sister-in-law never said anything. Still, her little nervous laughter was a giveaway!
Secondly, I’ve noticed how we’ve been living at a completely different pace. It wasn’t just because we were travelling in a caravan—after all, we were still working while on the road—but our lifestyle was undeniably simpler, forcing us to slow down. When you don’t have electricity, you sometimes realise how little you need to feel whole. This year has been a reality check, teaching me that it’s not the physical things that matter in life but the things we often overlook: time together, laughter, cuddles, walking, discovering, and talking. These have become my guiding compass now that I’m back in the city, reminding me to check in on all these precious elements amidst the noise of urban life.
I always knew the city was noisy, but I’ve come to understand that it’s up to us to choose what we tune into and accept as our reality. While walking through a lovely suburb, I realised that if I just took a second to look up, take a different route, or focus on a distinct sound, I could experience the same walk in a completely new way. When we went into the city to see friends, I focused on its beauty—the buildings, the water, the views, the boats bobbing up and down on the harbour—and I saw the beauty within the noise, the smoke, and the traffic. And I think that’s the essence of my lesson: consider what you choose to focus on.
I’ve realised that everything is a matter of choice, and we often forget that we can choose how we live. Not everyone can take a year off to travel, but I believe it’s about being clear on what you will and won’t accept in your life. What do you choose to focus on, prioritise, and make your reality?
Driving around the past few days, I’ve noticed that not much changes when you leave a place for a year—the buildings and roads are the same, the roadworks continue, and people are still buzzing about. But I’ve changed.
I went on this trip searching for a connection between myself and my family. Jorge describes it beautifully: We were taking a moment to poke our heads up out of the busyness, to breathe. We went to build the invisible bonds that hold us together, to ground ourselves in each other’s presence, and to create an unbreakable connection. We wanted to shift the noise and fill it with love, peace, and kindness.
I embarked on this journey of personal growth to realise that we, as a family, didn’t need the big house—we’ve made that mistake too many times, and the last one almost broke us. We went to learn that we could live small and consciously, with a deep understanding that the true essence of life is the people we love.
We sought to reconnect with nature, explore this beautiful country we now call home, understand its heritage, and witness the wonders Australia has to offer. We went to learn patience, gratitude, simplicity, and joy.
I’ve learnt that if you think you need something, you probably don’t. Free activities and nature always win over shopping malls. Never underestimate the joy of a simple picnic. Your fridge and cupboards can feed you—you don’t need them overflowing. I’ve learnt that disconnecting for a night or two is bliss and that we can survive without the constant beeping of digital connections. A sunrise and sunset are never the same, and they will always take your breath away. I’ve learnt that the night sky is more beautiful than we often realise and that looking up at the stars can remind us of those we’ve lost, those we’ve found, and the love surrounding us.
I’ve learnt that children don’t need material things—they want us. They never knew about the “stuff” that surrounds them now. When Amelia was born, all she wanted was us, and that’s all she still wants. We saw it starkly when we both worked simultaneously in the caravan—our heads buried in our work while she was with us—she became reactive when we finally engaged with her.
I’ve learnt to truly see my daughter, to notice her little expressions, to play in her imagination, and to be okay with just being in the moment. Although I sometimes have a mental list ticking away (as most of us do), I’ve learnt to silence it in those special moments. Because I’ve realised this is my bonding boundary, and I will not break it.
I’ve learnt that I don’t need to prove, please, or pretend. I have a good heart and a kind soul, and I will love and be present with you if you do the same. But I will not bend my boundaries, and I will not people-please just to fit in.
I’ve also learnt that there’s nothing better than a big hug from family, hearing cousins laugh and chat away and being in the company of those I love. I’ve come to appreciate the wonders of family and the beauty of being fully present with them.
As I return to the familiar, I realise it is not the place but the perspective that has shifted. Life is not about pursuing more—it’s about noticing the beauty in what we already have. The stillness we found on the road wasn’t just about stepping away from the city but about stepping closer to ourselves. We can carry that peace with us no matter where we are.
We have the power to decide what deserves our attention, how we choose to live, and how we grow. Ultimately, the simple, quiet moments—the ones money can’t buy—offer the most profound joy. Perhaps the most valuable lesson is that we already have everything we need in the people we love and the world around us, waiting to be noticed.