What is a country? As I walked towards the border I suddenly realised I had no idea what that word actually meant. A few minutes later I crossed into the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus; the first place I’ve visited that technically, doesn’t exist.
After more than a decade of nothing but backpackers hostels, a last minute decision to get some winter sun dumped me in a 4 star, beachside resort in Paphos, southern Cyprus.
Millions of tiny twinkles punctured the final moments of twilight. Vibrant streams of metal machines pulsed through dark streets and over bright bridges, making the whole lit landscape appear fluid.
Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Sintra was once inhabited by the Moors who dominated most of the Iberian Peninsula from the 8th century onwards. The Moorish castle ruins atop Sintra’s hill peak are testament to their long and successful stay.
What I loved most about Canberra was being able to hike and bike almost every weekend. Within twenty minutes’ drive in any direction of the city lies an unadulterated, kangaroo-ridden countryside.
I was actually sunburnt. I’d expected to spend the weekend coping with such British staples as a sopping wet tent inner, blistered feet from drenched socks and that guilt we get from just wanting to give up and walk into the nearest hotel.