CHASING WONDER
Taking Another Look
I’ve found a way to make my travels last longer...
After I return home, when my bags are unpacked and I’m back to my normal routine, I choose a photo from among the thousands I’ve taken and I recreate it.
Sometimes the photo is just not that good. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it was too crowded, or maybe there’s a distracting detail – like the railing that cuts right across the middle of these adorable alpacas.
Drawing lets me create a ‘better version’ of that moment.
It’s less about the art and more about the opportunity to relive the moment through fresh eyes – on my own terms and in my own time.
It reminds me that wonder is a function of my attention, not my location.
What’s a moment you’d love to take another look at?
🇵🇪 Chinchero, Peru, January 2025
Field Note
While Chasing Wonder has taken me around the world, my favourite place to find it is here - at home.
A few weeks ago, I was walking around my local lake when something made me pause.
It was an unfamiliar bird behaving in an unusual way.
The bird was cutting through the water like a torpedo, its entire body lying flat against the surface of the water - like a crocodile going for its prey.
And then there was another bird - identical to the first.
The two of them were flicking and bobbing their heads, mimicking each other’s movements.
I watched them in fascination.
It wasn’t until later that I realised what I’d been watching… (You’ve probably figured it out already.)
They were Great Crested Grebes, engaging in a highly choreographed mating ritual.
And if I hadn’t paused and followed my own curiosity, I would have missed it.
I wasn’t chasing wonder that day, but somehow it managed to find me anyway.
🇦🇺 Melbourne, Australia, September 2026
A Postcard from the Future
There is something very futuristic about Dubai.
The Burj Khalifa, the Palm Jumeirah, the searing heat...
But that’s not all.
It’s also home to the Museum of the Future – a place that describes itself as a ‘home for optimistic imagination’.
It’s a fascinating place.
But I must admit... there was one exhibit that didn’t fill me with optimism.
It’s called ‘The Vault of Life’.
An archive of over 2,400 laser-etched crystal glass specimens of animals, plants, fungi and marine life, it is a testament to the incredible biodiversity of Planet Earth.
Walking through the vault was deeply poignant, especially given that some of the species on display are already extinct.
And yet it was also a timely reminder of how wonder-full our world is – and how important it is that we take care of it.
🇦🇪 Dubai, United Arab Emirates, August 2025
What Colour is an Iceberg?
Well, that’s easy.
It’s white, isn’t it?
Hmmm…
Unless it’s blue
Like this
Or this
Or even this
And sometimes it can be a bit black
Or green (but I don’t have any green iceberg pics, so here’s another blue one)
Here’s one more
Pretty cool, huh?
🇦🇶 Antarctica, January 2016
A View Less Ordinary
Can the view get any better than this???
Yes.
Yes, it can.
🇵🇪 Machu Picchu, Peru, January 2025
Paris: Then and Now
I took this photo 23 years ago on a Canon PowerShot A70 compact digital camera. Nothing fancy.
And yet it captured a moment that I can still feel over two decades later.
The chill of the air on a crisp autumn morning.
The thrill of being in one of the world’s most iconic cities.
And the sense that my life was only just beginning.
Over the years, I’ve stared at this photo hundreds of times. And I’ve longed for the day when I would go back to recapture that feeling.
A few months ago, I did.
But I couldn’t.
It’s still a beautiful place. And I was grateful to return.
But it wasn’t the same.
And rather than feeling disappointed, it made me appreciate that first encounter even more.
Wonder lives in a moment, not a place.
I’ll always have (that) Paris.
🇫🇷 Paris, France, October 2003
A Postcard from Agra
I feel a bit awkward saying this.
When I visited the Taj Mahal, I didn’t experience a whole lot of wonder. I mean, it’s literally one of the (New) Seven Wonders of the World.
And it’s very impressive. Spectacular, even. But I wasn’t exactly blown away.
After spending a few hours exploring the Taj Mahal, I visited the ‘Baby Taj’. Nicknamed the ‘jewel box’, it’s widely regarded as the inspiration for the Taj Mahal itself. But unlike the majestic splendour of the Taj Mahal, the Baby Taj is more detailed, more intimate and more charming.
What they have in common is that they are both a tribute to the enduring wonder of love.
While the Taj Mahal is famously associated with love of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan for his wife Mumtaz Mahal, the Baby Taj (officially Itimad-ud-Daulah's Tomb) was commissioned by Shah Jahan’s stepmother, Empress Nur Jahan, as a mausoleum for her father.
And it was there that I happened to witness a moment of love between two strangers — in Agra, the City of Love.
🇮🇳 Agra, India, January 2023
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Why I’m Chasing Wonder
It was January 2023, and I had just finished debriefing my recent trip to India with one of my closest friends. One story led to another — the time I lost control of five Siberian Huskies on a dog sledding adventure in Norway, the time I was afraid of being kidnapped by the Chilean Mafia, and the time I accidentally booked a homestay in Cuba with a former Lieutenant-General in Fidel Castro’s revolutionary army.
After several hours of meandering conversation, my friend paused and said: ‘Have you ever considered writing some of these stories down?’
I immediately rolled my eyes. The world does not need another travel blog.
She continued: ‘You love writing, you have thousands of amazing photographs, you’ve travelled to so many incredible places… Why not?’
As it turned out, I had no shortage of objections: The internet is saturated with travel content… Most travel writers have travelled far more extensively than I have… I don’t want to turn my travels into work… There’s no way I’m taking selfies in a bikini…
And then came the objection that stopped me in my tracks:
There’s so much suffering in the world — surely it would be inappropriate for me to write stories about my relatively privileged life?
But that conversation planted a seed. A week later, I messaged my friend and told her that I had a name for the project — ‘Chasing Wonder’.
I’d had that phrase in the back of my mind for quite some time, not knowing quite what its purpose was or how I might use it. But I sensed that there was a single thread that connected all of my travel experiences — witnessing the Northern Lights in Norway; marvelling at the Sagrada Familia in Spain; catching a glimpse of a lilac-breasted roller in Tanzania (a bird that my sister described as looking like it had eaten a 72-pack of Derwent coloured pencils).
Lilac-breasted roller, Tarangire National Park, Tanzania
They were all driven by a desire to experience wonder.
Wonder: that moment when your soul gasps.
And the more I travelled, the more I realised that wonder wasn’t just a byproduct of my travels — it was why I travelled.
And as I continued to travel, I started to become curious about the subtleties of wonder. For instance, why did some of my most wondrous moments arrive when I was least expecting them?
In India, it wasn’t the Taj Mahal that truly blew me away (as majestic as it was) — it was the time I navigated a labyrinth of side streets to get to my hotel in Varanasi. In Peru, it wasn’t Machu Picchu — it was getting caught up in a local street parade that was celebrating the Epiphany in Cusco. In Greece, it wasn’t the Acropolis — it was a ginger cat named Stavros who joined me for breakfast on my first morning in Athens.
When I reflected on my actual experiences of wonder — not just the things I found impressive, but the moments that made my soul gasp — it occurred to me that maybe it was less about me chasing wonder and more about wonder chasing me.
Oh, the irony.
Over time, I started to see wonder playing out in other areas of my life — not just when I was travelling. There was something emerging about the value of wonder as a way of being — something that could be cultivated or chosen as a fundamental orientation towards life. And if that were the case, then perhaps it wasn’t a frivolous luxury reserved for those with the means to travel the world.
What if wonder is a uniquely human capacity that is available to everyone?
Three years passed.
Earlier this year, I was in Porto, Portugal, doing what you do when you’re in one of the most charming cities in Europe — doomscrolling in my hotel room. I was intensely irritated with myself for allowing news of the ‘outside world’ to encroach on my holiday. And yet somehow I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
But then wonder came to visit me — and it said: What if things could be different?
What if all of the suffering in the world — the suffering that stopped me in my tracks all those years ago and has even intensified since then — was not a reason to dismiss wonder but, rather, the very condition that makes wonder necessary?
What if wonder is the quietly radical counterpoint to the complexity and fear and polarisation that dominates the headlines — and our lives?
What if wonder could change the world?
I don’t know — but that’s what I’m here to find out.
Melbourne, Australia, May 2026