Looking back at travelling forward…

It seems only right to start this new ‘journey’ with an introduction and with a touch of introspection. At the ripe old age of eight, my parents decided to take a year out from our Sydney-based family life and give their children the privilege of an incredible opportunity to see the world. Along with my 17 yr old sister & my 15 yr old brother, the five of us packed our bags and headed for a year of life in the UK. It wasn’t your average trip. Mum hated to fly – white knuckles abounded – so we did as much as possible to stay grounded. First jump was to Japan, where we travelled for 8 days. Next thing, we were on a boat to Nakhodka. From there we started a 9 day long trail across the wide, cold, white spaces that were Russia. It was early December! After a pause in Moscow we trained on to Leningrad (it was still Leningrad back then!) from where we flew via Sweden to London to establish a home for the next 12 months.

We led a ‘normal’ life there; my brother & I attended local schools, my sister went to work in the city. But my parents also invested in a trusty Ford Dormobile – a clunky old bus that slept all 5 of us – and proceeded to transport us to all manner of places. It felt like every weekend was spent exploring local sights and every half-term or holiday we trailed across the Channel on a ferry and trundled about Northern Europe. Life was filled with history, museums, readings from the ‘AA Illustrated Guide to Britain’ (lovingly known as “the bible”), visits to “ruins with grass”, as my Mum gleefully nicknamed endless UK archaeological sites. Further afield it was camping areas in woodlands & tiny villages, sprints to the amenities with sponge bags at hand, unusual food and foreign languages.

When we left the UK at the end of our sojourn, the adventure of discovery continued as we followed the route of the Orient Express from London into Italy and then down through Yugoslavia & Albania into Greece where we ran out of track and had to leap into the air, holding Mum’s hands firmly… speeding home to Oz.

My future fate was sealed!

The key philosophy that my parents taught was the importance of learning through the experience of difference. We were encouraged to walk in other people’s shoes; to understand why their lives varied from ours. My first real travel memory involves being told in no uncertain terms that, as I was eating in Japan, I must try to behave like a local and use chopsticks. As a hungry, tired 8 year old this was all a bit much to bear. Nonetheless, I did as I was told and a cultural lesson was learnt. If I look back at my parents’ travel journals, I love to see that they are filled with little notes about simple impressions of a place : sights, smells, sounds.

Now – 43 yrs (to the week) down the track – Travel is my motivation. It is my joy and it is my best education. From those very first travels (..there have been many more since), I developed an inquisitive eye for the details of a culture. Luckily, I also found a love of writing and then photography. So, where my early trips are well recorded in words that reflect that time in my life, now I choose to capture images. I travel to soak up the difference, to revel in the colour & the movement of a culture. I seek out patterns & habits. Added to that, as I often travel alone, I love to share what I have seen with my friends all over the spinning, blue-green globe.

So ‘A Gypsy Heart’ is born!

This is my way to share the joy of what I see with a wider audience. I hope that in some way it will encourage others to see the world through another person’s eyes, even if they are only mine. I hope to take people to places they may never have the privilege to go; I hope to share my observations & emotions as I touch on difference. More than anything, it is a way to pass on what was given to me as a wide eyed 8 yr old and it’s a way to thank my incredible parents (now away on their own travels to other worlds) for that treasured gift of insight.

Please walk beside me….. Becks