It may be hard to be objective to write about your home town, but I’m going to try.
First, it’s true that Brisbane, where I was born and I’ve spent more than half of my life, is not the immediate “go-to” Australian city. Sydney is that — because of the harbour, the Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, Bondi Beach, the Manly ferry and so many other attractions that all would-be tourists associate with the land down under.
It’s also not the cultural and culinary beating heart of the country. That’s Melbourne. And, thank goodness, it’s not the political capital, which is Canberra.
Brisbane has its own charms. For me, it’s the place I go to see much-loved family and friends, to remember good times and to wonder how, or whether, I’d fit in again.
Perhaps these photos, taken in December, 2015, will convince you it’s worth a visit.
Born in Melbourne, raised in Brisbane, grew up in Sydney. Or have I? A question I often ask myself. On one hand, I don’t want to grow up (or throw up), but on the other I suppose I’d prefer people think I have (grown up, that is). But do I really care what they think? Not really… Where does that leave me? Bangkok…