Sydney

A year had passed. It was mid-May 1996 and my visa for permanent residency had been granted by the Australian Government. I was exhausted, pale from not seeing much sunlight. I was socially awkward, spending most of my time talking to chefs in a kitchen, and my hands were blistered and callused from cutting and peeling shellfish all day long. I was also undernourished, and in truth, pretty much over cooking.

I resigned from The Criterion and booked myself a one-way ticket to Australia. First I travelled for six months in Europe and Africa before finally landing in Sydney on 17 November 1996.