Category: Travel diary

A beach holiday in winter is a special joy. Just five nights of bracing, salty wind, gazing out to the horizon and admiring the hardy souls out on their boards is real renewal. We have had mini breaks mainly in the east, closer to home, but decided to brave it to the west side of the bay and hit the surf coast. We chose Bells Beach for our stay, feeling that as a world-renowned venue for surfing competitions, there must be some waves to watch. We would explore the Surf Coast in low season!


As always, the further we get from home, the more we relax into uninterrupted conversations and comfortable silences with a background of ABC FM classic. Going east, we are usually in the country within minutes. This western adventure was more challenging, with a route taking us an hour to the CBD and then out the other side.

The first decision, and a good one, was to choose ‘No tolls’ in Google maps. It only added a few minutes and saved us $37 on the return trip – that’s a fish and chips meal! More than that, it took us through suburbs we don’t always see, including a lovely drive by Albert Park Lake before we finally hit the freeways. The western side is now an incredible new labyrinth of roads, and by the time we reached the services at the start of the towering Westgate Bridge, we needed lunch. It was my first experience of a Pieface purchase – actually a very nice pie with free sauce (it’s funny how a small sachet of tomato sauce felt so generous).

Bypassing Geelong reminded me of our frequent trips in my childhood to see family there. It was a different drive then that went right through Werribee with its famous stinky smell (we would see how long we could hold our breath), and then the long approach through Corio industrial area. On the way home, we would buy chips (couldn’t afford fish for eight people) and make them last all the way home. This time, however, we sailed around the edge at 100kph, gazing at the new developments on the fringes.

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With all that was happening before and during a spring road trip up the coast last year in 2025, I did not manage to capture the highlights, nor even the lowlights, in my blog diary. The memory has blurred a little since 2025, but the feelings and photos remain with me and need to be written about before too much more post-trip time elapses. Some already has, of course, and will colour the memories, but that’s true of all of life’s retrospectivity.

The click of the front gate, the closing of the car boot, the last look around to make sure we were not doing any serious senior forgetting (a daily occurrence). Water bottles, Google maps and audiobooks loaded as we backed out of the driveway and pointed the trusty Mazda to the northern sun.

We had Levi’s squishy pig on board and he promised to send home photos of his exploits to our grandson.

A driving holiday is so much easier than flying to Europe as we have so many times and involves much less adrenaline. No panic about negotiating freeways in time to the airport, no fear of forgetting passports and documents, nor worry about booking details and weighing of luggage. I am fortunate or mad enough to have done seven trips to Europe and not having to steel myself for a long haul flight suddenly felt deliciously refreshing even before we turned out of our street. This was the great Aussie road trip!

Unlike the claustrophobic panic I feel when the exit doors are closed on a plane, I knew that I could stop the car and get out any time I wanted to. Peter had polished said car so that its ‘crystal soul’ red duco gleamed and was rearing to go. We were off and running!

We planned to head east, then north, over the border, hugging the coast, taking three days to get to Jervis Bay; then to take the trip back slowly.

I love country motels, with their beige decor and unpainted brick interiors. Often there is still a flap in the door where they used to insert an ordered breakfast. Once on the road it is all we need, and helps us to focus down and leave complex life demands behind.

Orbost was far enough from home for our first motel stay and by the time we were ready to find dinner, the main street was very quiet. Undaunted by the bad experiences we have sometimes had at Chinese takeaways in country towns, we were ever hopeful, and found Leon Palace, an Asian place where we were almost the only customers – should we have been worried?

Before we knew it, we were conversing in Indonesian with the surprised and friendly female cook from Timor and enjoying great food. In just a few hours, I already felt liberated from cooking and the unwinding had begun. We slept so well – far enough back from the main road not to hear the trucks thundering all night.

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Although haiku has changed with modern times, it originated in Japan in the 17th century as a reaction to the elaborate poetry of the time.

Classic haiku is written with seventeen syllables in a 5-7-5 pattern, which means that every word is important. It was usually connected to a season (known as a kigo) or a little moment that evokes an emotional response. It aims to ‘express much and suggest more’ and features simplicity, intensity and directness – a bit like a bonsai in words. Focusing on nature, these short form poems aim to include a kireji, or ‘cutting word’ that is an invitation to be surprised or to reflect.

Peter’s latest exhibition, Bella Italia, was held at the Oak Hill Gallery in Mornington, Victoria, in February 2025. It beautifully captured the memories of our incredible trip to Italy in 2023, visiting Sicily and Tuscany. (You can see my travel blog from then https://jeanettewoods.com/2023/08/ready-set-fly-europe-23-1/#more-739). His images inspired me to write for each painting, and, for the first time, we exhibited together: a fusion of paint and words, Italy and Japan! Those who visited the exhibition felt that the combination of each oil painting with a 17 word poem evoked new multi-faceted perspectives to the experience. These are some of the pieces from the exhibition. (Some are still available for sale. If you are interested, contact Peter for a catalogue at petersbwoods@gmail.com)

Sunset, San Quirico, Tuscany

Perfect orange orb

Slides behind the evening hills

Gone except for gilded touch.

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Back in the land of schnitzel and strudel! We are working our way back north after six glorious weeks in Italy, this time via the Black Forest region in Germany as we return to Frankfurt.

Our arrival at the station in Freiburg was so easy. I was still looking around for the way out off the platform and realised we were on the street, with taxies right in front of us- unpacking in our hotel no time. It turned out that almost everything in Freiburg was easy. The exception was the language as we only have a few words of German; in retrospect, we had enough Italian to get ourselves around and miss it already.

Every place we stay has its pros and cons, so I try to focus on the good things. The Fourside Hotel in Freiburg is a new chain hotel, further out of town, very clean and shiny, comfy bed, very quiet (we sleep in late here), and has a fantastic large shower, complete with a huge picture of a lady (a local legend) in it! Although a bit of a way from the action centre, it is opposite a massive supermarket and has a tram stop out front. All things to like.

What a beautiful, green city is Freiburg! Trees and gardens everywhere, flourishing flower boxes on the streets and balconies, and forested hills on all sides of town. Tidy, well signed and no rubbish anywhere. Neat blocks of apartments in our area, painted in various combinations of colours. Lots of bikes and dedicated paths (have to look both ways twice to avoid being run down) and a fantastic sustainable and reliable public transport system.

Having seen the weather forecast, we were up and out the first morning to make the most of the last predicted sunny day. Always drawn to heights and cable cars, we pored over the transport map for a way to get to Shauinslandbahn – the world’s longest circular cable car to the top of the mountain. It looked doable – Tram 2 and Bus 21 here we come!

It took five kind Germans to help us find the stop, the tram and buy tickets. It is a bit frustrating not to be able to read information. A friendly young woman at the stop assisted us first, and it turned out that she was going to Brisbane the very next week to do her PhD in chemistry!

Even after we were heading the right way, a gentleman saw us looking at the tram map and asked if we needed help. One lady even grabbed a high school student and told him to help us as she didn’t speak English. So kind! In fact, whenever we look at our map, someone asks us if we need assistance.

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We have fallen in love with this sun-dusted part of Italy. I don’t remember ever watching such a series of glorious sunsets every night for two weeks; the palette is a little different each night. The temperature has been perfectly warming every day, and increasingly refreshing overnight. Only a tiny breeze to break the stillness, and the sound of tractors pulling ploughs all day as the autumn farm routines roll on as they have for hundreds of years. The vines are slowly turning russet while the olives keep their colour, and their fruit is ripening.

Seasonality is very calming. Hard working people in tune with God’s earth. It’s a while since I was content to sit and gaze at the scenery without thoughts of what I need to do! It has been so good for my busy mind and soul.

Tuscany is famous for its wine and people come from all over the world to try it. All the little towns have more enoteca (wine tasting shops) and wine bars than anything else, with the hero wines being Brunello and Rosso. We are not huge wine drinkers; I drink almost none and Peter was driving! But as Marco, our host’s husband, did wine tasting tours as well as looking after an olive farm, we thought we would give it a go. Adventures are the order of the day.

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It was time to leave Sicily, vey reluctantly. Feeling more confident on the roads than when we arrived, we took the the little Panda car to the autostrada, heading back to the huge port city of Messina. When we returned the car safely, I could see relief written all over Peter’s face: a month of challenging driving in Sicily and no scratches or bingles caused by us or any of the mad drivers we saw. A miracle.

The rental car office was happy to mind our luggage, so we had a long day to fill in waiting for the night train, but we were at least unencumbered. Messina, however, is a huge port (with a row of cruise ships in dock) and I didn’t have energy in the heat to go too far, so we did what all good travellers do to fill in time- settle in at KFC for chicken and salad, and then Maccers for coffee and tiramisu. Food, coffee, toilets and wifi all helped to pass the day. In KFC we shared a table with two young men from Uzbekistan who are studying in Messina. They had perfect English and were very assured as we chatted. Both supported by their parents, clearly the new middle class.

Two things of note about MacDonalds: it was modern, clean and had service to the table, and, we were the oldest people there by a couple of decades!

We still had time to kill at the station for our 10.10pm train, but started to see and hear information that it was running an hour late. It was immediately clear that we would miss our connection in Rome to Florence the next morning and the trip was all downhill from there. For starters, we discovered that the toilets at the station were locked up at 10pm! We were relieved in every way when the train finally arrived.

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