Daughters of a European Summer.


There’s a sort of mental and emotional hangover that rushes over you when arriving back home from an overseas trip, and I’m not sure if it’s normal or not, but I am 100% stuck in a European bubble – what’s scary is, I don’t think I ever want to leave it.

I’m ‘fresh off the boat’ as they say, from a 6 week stint through Europe, wheeling a suitcase which could double as my private room (yes, it’s THAT big, and I’m THAT small) through the world’s cutest cobbled alleyways, sipping the cheapest vino over-looking the most stunning sunsets and dancing on the bar-tops of every venue which wouldn’t escort us out for doing so.

I guess I am suffering the side-effects of a 2-month, daily scramble to pick up the remnants of my suit-caser life 5 minutes before EVERY late checkout, making sure that the essential: iPhone, Passport, Birkenstocks and three gal pals were in tow before departure. Or maybe it’s an epic “come-down” from endless bittersweet farewells to cities i’d re-fallen in love with, in exchange for the promise of a new tomorrow in an equally as fresh land complete with new mates and even newer moments to add to my expanding memory bank.

But, it’s now officially a week that my lungs have been privy to the Melbourne, if not Australian air, and I would be lying if I said that most mornings I don’t still flounder in my bed, confused and often delirious about which country I am in, and whether we have woken up too late and already missed our flight to Brussels.

I am constantly running into my sister’s room across the hall trying to decipher which of my friends are still not home from the crazy night before, only to find my Year 12 mini-me, fast asleep in her bed, awaiting a 7am alarm to welcome a day full of high-school torture.

Yep, I am definitely home; I just don’t know it yet and it’s ludicrously, the exact same feeling I had as we flew out on that chilly Melbourne night, 7 weeks ago. A pitch black sky we had been awaiting, for no less than 183 days, 17 hours and precisely, 22 minutes – I remember because I screen-shot the countdown when the travel agent confirmed our outbound flight.

After so long planning, throwing up ideas, making outlandish bucket-list entries and dares that I ‘shot-gun not’; the very hour had finally dawned, and even on the plane as we milked the mini vodkas just like we said we would (thanks Emirates), it still didn’t seem real.

Even now, as I look back at all the pictures we awkwardly asked strangers to take of us in front of the Colosseum, or as I comment on the “take me back to Europe” statuses of my new – now also returned – travel mates, or even listen to the songs which will forever compose the soundtrack to “that 2014 Eurotrip” – it’s still pretty fantastical and surreal.

So in an effort to relive every moment, non-sober epiphany, soul mate meeting and gorgeous view, I am belatedly beginning the memoirs of the summer that was (your Melbourne winter).

Better late than never, hey!

For now, “skies are blue”.


Stay stoked.

Excitement, the elixir of life.

Excitement, the elixir of life.


It is currently 4.30 am, I fell asleep at 12 am, and my alarm is set for 6am. I have a huge day at work, and I certainly plan on channeling some Disco Fever later in the evening.

So many things are running through my head, here’s an almost, exhaustive list.
a) Why am I up?
b) Why is the rooster (yes, I have Zoo animals) crowing now? It is certainly not an appropriate time by my watch, to be rudely awakening all persons in a 20 km radius with that harsh tone.
c) I should be tired.
d) I should go back to bed.
e) Or, I should at least be scanning the night antics of my beloved Facebook friends,
f) Maybe, I should just start watching Letterman, or E! News.
g) I should try count sheep.
h) Or pigs, flying pigs, that’ll be fun.

But what is most on my mind, is writing this post. It’s taking dominance over my two-fist-sized brain (that’s a fact you know! Read here) is that I just NEED to write this post.

I need to write about this thing that so obviously is running my whole, well, life right now. And the circumstances couldn’t be more fitting.

It’s about boundless energy, something I 100% believe, is fuelled by excitement.

Most people talk about being “happy”, “optimistic”, “inspired” and “hopeful” as a means of attaining fulfillment, but I really think that at the core of what we want, is to be excited.

Think about the common “Nanna nap”, now I know we are ALL capable and guilty of these bad boys, even the most pro-active and energetic people I know, are prone to take some sneaky 3pm shut-eye. And why are they called “Nanna naps” anyway?

It is my assumption that they are called so, because they are typically endorsed, and enjoyed by our “Nanna” aged fellow citizens. Unfortunately, however, it seems the epidemic is spreading to a more youthful cohort, and infecting the lives of many of us, well before we reach their “Nanna” term.

(Wow, that sounded like I was a medical researcher or something! It 4.30 am, roll with it k.)

But seriously, how and why, on earth do we think it is ok to have a “Nanna nap” at 21? But more importantly, WHY do we even need one? Surely, if you’re waking up at 4.30 am for no apparent reason, you have access to some boundless energy source, one which will give you immunity from 3.30-itis.

And this is precisely my point (I will point out however, that this is an unusually early start, and may or may not catch up with me, I’ll let you know how the next 14 hours go!), most of us must be missing something, something that, without it, we feel obligated and tired enough, to take another precious time slot of a 24 hour day, to spend, idly, on our comfy, comfy double bed, with 1000 thread count sheets and the soft throw rug you got for Christmas. (Too much?)

You know what I think it is? I’ll tell you mate, it’s excitement!

I’ll explain.

Apart from when you were in pre-school and your teacher made you have an afternoon nap, when at all in your adolescent years did you need a “Nanna nap”?


I for one, was way too busy getting blisters from the monkey bars, crashing into trees on my motorbike, pretending I was Baby Spice, rewinding the Lion King on VHS, and tormenting my little sister. There was no time to have a nap! Especially between 3.30pm and 5pm, these were prime times on ABC! Can I get an amen for Hey Arnold, Arthur and Daria!

You see, I, and you (I assume) were way too excited by EVERYTHING to be bored, or tired enough to take a nap.

But somehow, amongst weekly homework, essay due dates, the axing of essential children shows on ABC, and “growing up”, we started getting less excited: started finding faults in the things that used to make us so easily entertained.

I’m not saying you take up your old monkey-bar prowess, or re-assume your rightful role as one of the Spice Girls (but hey, if your interested, I do a mean Baby Spice, and am open to girl band ideas!). I’m just encouraging you to find a way to GET EXCITED!

It comes back to that famed adage, “Do what you love, and do it often”, because darling, my dear, that is the ONLY way you are going to get excited!

If I told you:

  • We are getting Yo-Chi,
  • We just scored free tickets to Groovin’,
  • I am throwing a bush-doof and you’re invited, and there will be sausage rolls made by my mum and even lolly-bags when you leave,
  • Grill’d is giving out free burgers,
  • A large package just arrived for you,
  • It’s your birthday tomorrow,
  • Santa came,
  • The new “Game of Thrones” season just dropped, or
  • Harry Styles is officially single again.

You would 100% be excited (right?). If you were halfway through your “Nanna nap” you would awaken fully refreshed and keen for all of the above (especially the Harry Styles one;), you minx!).

In effect, you would be energized, boundlessly energized.


So basically the moral of the story is, GET EXCITED! However, whenever, why-ever you can. Find fun things to do, go out, drive there, pack a bag, make a playlist, find a friend. Do whatever you need to, to

Stay stoked.

The end.