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Flying from Darwin to Brisbane my long journey seemed mostly at an end, as I was picked up at the airport by Genevieve, Edward and Alexander - my sister and her two young boys. A few days later my parents joined us on the Gold Coast, and we celebrated an early Christmas together. So no more would I sleep in bed bug ridden beds, clutching my passport to my chest. No more would I wake up trying to remember how to say in the local language “Where am I?” I was now staying with family, in safe, familiar places, speaking English, eating recognizable food, and catching up with familiar friendly people, some of whom I hadn’t seem for years.

I still had a few thousand kms to travel before I was back in my home town of Briagolong, in the bottom south eastern corner of Australia. Unsurprisingly I chose to fly the rest of the way, and apart from catching up with Splat, an old school friend in Melbourne, on the way through, the rest of the cross-the-world trip was comparatively uneventful.

Being ‘home’ was good. The familiar views of the beautiful blue-green mountains, the fresh, dry air and the screaming cockatoos seemed very welcoming. I put a peg on my nose and emptied my back pack, sent almost everything off to the laundry (thanks, Mum!) and rolled out the Persian carpet I had been carrying since Tehran, all those weeks ago. The carpet had survived the journey intact, as had I - remarkably without being mugged, arrested, kidnapped, breaking any bones or suffering any serious injury or illness, or having been taken advantage of too much. It was a most amazing trip, and I believe (writing this in January, a month after arriving in Australia) it has changed my life in many ways.

I recommend to anyone who has been patient enough to read up to this point, who has joined me online for all or some of the journey, to get out there and discover parts of the world you haven’t yet seen. It’s a massive place, thought to be scary and inhospitable by many, but known to be welcoming and beautiful by a few. I am very fortunate to now find myself as one of those few.

Thanks for reading! xxx

PS Although I said that I had survived the trip without injuring myself, within a few hours of arriving at my sister’s house in Queensland I was playing a game of backyard cricket with my nephews. I accidently hit myself on the foot with a cricket bat so hard, and was in so much pain, that I was convinced my foot was broken. A long evening spent in the accident and emergency room of a nearby hospital fortunately convinced me otherwise. How crazy would that have been to have incapacitated myself just after the end of a potentially hazardous world trip? So it was true - the worst thing to happen was having that towel stolen in Rome!

PPS I've enjoyed blogging so much I've started writing a new one - about being a composer! You can read here: www.nicholasedwards.org/blog.html

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