A Gentle Start to the Day
I woke naturally around six in the morning, feeling refreshed. Surprisingly, none of yesterday’s fatigue lingered. Perhaps my body is finally adjusting to this lifestyle. Right after waking, I checked the charging of my devices, drafted notes for a podcast, prepared an Instagram post, and sketched ideas for my English blog. Starting the day with these small but steady tasks gave me a sense of order.
Just before seven, Rachel appeared in the living room and kindly asked, “Did you sleep well?” I smiled and answered, “It was perfect.” And it was true—I hadn’t slept that peacefully in a long time.
Breakfast that morning was something unexpected: okonomiyaki. It was the first time I had eaten it in the morning, but it felt light, delicious, and refreshing. Rachel had plans from nine o’clock, so afterward the house became quiet, giving me time for myself.
Writing and Walking
I used the silence to write in my journal. Not just recording events, but writing down the thoughts and realizations that had been circling in my mind. Putting them into words made my heart feel lighter.
Around eleven, I went for a walk with Rachel’s partner and their dogs. It had been a while since I walked properly, and I could feel muscles different from cycling being stretched. My body felt heavier, but in a good way—it was a change of rhythm.
By midday Rachel returned, and we talked briefly about my travel route. At half past twelve it was finally time to leave. She kindly offered me a ride to the supermarket. Usually, shopping by bicycle is tiring, but today it felt easy. That sense of relief in both body and mind reminded me how valuable even small kindness can be.
Before dropping me near my camping spot, we took a photo together. “If you ever come back to Melbourne, contact me anytime,” Rachel said. Her words stayed warmly with me.
Unexpected Encounters
I cycled toward the familiar camping site, stopping at a park for a break and chatting with a young man from Indonesia who was in Australia on a working holiday. It was a short but joyful encounter, another reminder of how travel is full of small connections.
Finally, I reached the camping spot. To my surprise, some belongings were placed there that hadn’t been before. For a moment I wondered if someone else might be around. But the place was quiet, and I decided to stay.
That evening, I began cooking spicy ramen for dinner. Just then, Robert, a man from Switzerland, appeared. Cheerful and talkative, he quickly pulled me into conversation. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. By the time I returned to my ramen, it had grown a little soft—but I didn’t mind. Conversations like that are exactly what makes traveling so rich.
