A year in ...

It's now a year, a month and a few days that I've been away from home. In that time I've travelled and settled, had grand adventures and experienced great tragedy. I've found love and lost a loved one. I've been back to where I began and I've returned home again. And I think, as twee as it might sound, that I've begun to find myself.

In the last year I've been to England, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, New Zealand, Australia and France. I've seen some of the most amazing sights that this world has to offer, and fallen in love with a country I previously knew nothing about. When I came here, I identified myself as an Australian who was born in New Zealand. I now feel that I am a Scot, born in New Zealand, who grew up in Australia. Edinburgh feels more like home than any other city I've been to before. The beauty of this city and the history that permeates every aspect of it is unlike anything I've previously experienced. It sucks you in and, once under its spell, you find yourself unable to leave.

The main attraction for me, though, is far more specific than the simple beauty of this place. Scotland so revers its writers that there is a giant monument, about 7 stories high, to Sir Walter Scott on the main street. And this year there are special celebrations occurring everywhere to mark the 250th anniversary of the birth of Rabbie Burns. Compared with the veneration of sporting heroes above all others which occurs back in Australia, this is like stepping into a Jasper Fforde novel and finding machines dispensing Shakespeare snippets on the street.

I still sometimes get homesick and, as much as I hate to admit it my heart lies, at least for the moment, back in Brisbane. But while I'm here I'm going to make the most of this experience.

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