It was a brisk Sunday morning in early November—one of those days with the warm and deceptive sunshine that filters through a cloudless crystal sky. On the excellent advice of an even-more-excellent friend, I cycled my way across to Colombia Road in East London for the flower market that floods the little lane most Sunday mornings.
The bustling market rang with hawkers challenging their neighbours for the best sales; calls of ‘an orchid for a fiver’ were nearly ubiquitous. A spectrum of blossoms flowed down both sides of Colombia Road—cacti, herbs, tulips, orchids, Christmas trees, and a dozen technicolour shades of heather. The cheerful rainbow of flora cut through the late-autumn chill and provided a magnificent start to a lazy London morning.
Doors are mysterious and inviting things; this alone gives them interest, but often they are also brilliant works of art in a visual sense. On my travels through Spain, I found myself photographing a multitude of doors—too many, to be honest. However, it gave birth to a mission that lasted throughout my remaining months in Europe: document a door from every city you visit. Much like myobsessionwithstreet art, I sought out interesting doors everywhere; here are some of the results:
The time has come to explain the radio silence around here.
In late November, I left Europe and returned to Australia. While October gradually relinquished the reign of autumn to November, I visited friends around the UK, homing in on London for my return flight, which was booked for the middle of the month. Between the season’s magic, Christmas fancies popping up around the city, an ongoing affair with markets, and the remarkably exceptional people surrounding me, I couldn’t bare to leave. And so, after an eleventh-hour flight-change success, I shoved my return voyage away for two weeks and promptly threw myself into the intoxicating enjoyment of life in London.
Yet I could only disregard the inevitable for so long. At the end of the month I bid farewell to my friends and made the long trek back to the southern hemisphere.
For the past week, I have been readjusting to life in Australia. Many people claim to ‘catch the travel bug,’ and are therefore restless when they return home, but my most difficult struggle is proving to be missing the people I met abroad. But, while I can only hope to see some again, I know others will be lifelong friends.
To a lifetime of laughter, friendships, learning, love, and travel.
Autumn perennially cocoons the world in a placid hush; everything slows down, and the cold wind that sweeps away summer also brings a haze of calm and languor. There’s something magical about these in-between days, when the mornings wake up clear and cold, and the sun never finds a reason to hike up to the highest point in the sky; instead it bathes the world all day in rosy light and gently warms your back while you sit with a cup of something warm in your hands.
In the past weeks, my travels led me through the median of Europe: Italy, Switzerland, Germany and Denmark. At the time, the countries were possessed by autumn, and the days were wonderfully lethargic and crisp. I happily spent my time simply enjoying the beautiful season, wandering through streets and markets, admiring the colours and the people and the food.
My favourite part of autumn may be the food. The enflamed trees are echoed in a rainbow of apples, chestnuts, squash, and pumpkin. While I was in Copenhagen, I spent a couple of days hanging around Torvehallerne, a food-lovers oasis in the centre of the city. This marketplace has fresh produce, meat, fish, and cheese, coffee, bread and pastries, flowers, cafes, restaurants and more. If you like food, or cooking, or eating, or just looking at pretty things, and you ever find yourself in Copenhagen, try to make your way to Torvehallerne. It’s beautiful.