I think this was what kept me a little sane, being thousands of kilometres away from home and worlds apart. An Australian friend of mine invited us to her home, three hours south of Perth, in a little town called Margaret River. She describes it to be the city of hippies and gypsies.
Her family of surfer babes opened up their home to us. We were fed like their own kin; home cooked meals are the best, especially if you've been dining like a student for a good five months. I returned once and will return again and again, given the chance. Grew to love them like they were my own family.
Her family of surfer babes opened up their home to us. We were fed like their own kin; home cooked meals are the best, especially if you've been dining like a student for a good five months. I returned once and will return again and again, given the chance. Grew to love them like they were my own family.
My beautiful Stikki slicing up some avocado in her kitchen. Never a dull moment with this one.
The best.
They live in probably one of the sweetest homes I've ever seen. A large log cabin in the middle of the Margaret River woods. Built from the ground up by their family.
The Vegemite Experience.
Surfer Pro weekend.
The "Lad Pad" sign-in wall.
Banjo. Would go back just for this three-legged-pup.
Goon punch for the big night.
The family Pavlova recipe. She sent a copy home to each of us and signed-off with "Enjoy the taste of Australia!" How do you not fall in love with them.
The Gal Pals.
No comments:
Post a Comment