Australia - A Parallel Universe

Day 7, 12:30 pm GMT+10

I’m on yet another flight. This time to Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park in the middle of the country, otherwise known as the Australian outback. 

Remember the high-school Geography lesson when you vaguely paid attention to that giant red rock located somewhere in Australia?

I’m headed there. It’s so remote and far away from anything I know that it might as well be Mars. It certainly looks like it.

I will be camping there for two nights – savouring the lack of light pollution and befriending the local crop of mosquitos, flies, and wildlife.

Fingers crossed for some kangaroos and, for the love of God, no giant birds, please.

At the airport earlier today, I had another one of these “Only in Australia” experiences that, when put together, started painting enough of a picture of this place.

At the security check at the domestic terminal, the guards spent 5 minutes debating whether my skipping rope was allowed on the plane. Meanwhile, forks, knives (not too sharp and pointy, though), 200+ ml aerosols, and lighters are all fair game. Do not worry, though; only one lighter per person is allowed.

Strange gravity seems to govern this place. And yet, it all works.

A miracle? Perhaps.

A parallel universe? Definitely.

—

There are two well-known stories you learn about Australia when you start trading financial markets:

1. The Australian economy (and, by extension, its currency) massively depends on China.

2. Australia hasn’t had a recession in 30+ years, and its housing market is a giant bubble.

I’ve researched and read about the first point for years, but it only took me 2 minutes at the airport when I first arrived in Sydney to get immersed in this new reality.

Now I get it. 

More than 50% of the people around me coming into Sydney were East Asian, and most of them were Chinese.

Most signs at the airport are in English and Chinese.

On the streets, wherever you look, you see East Asians (predominantly Chinese), and there seems to be a Chinese restaurant on every corner. Your Uber driver and your plumber are likely Chinese.

“They are our Mexicans,” an American who’s lived here for years jokingly tells me.

The main difference is that Mexicans don’t import as much capital into the US and don’t buy as many expensive properties. 

As for the second well-known economic story? Let’s just say I am less and less certain about that “imminent collapse” that many “experts” have been predicting for years.

Australia, while a developed country, is one big island governed by island rules and gravity that seem crazy to us who don’t live on the island, and yet they are perfectly normal for the context of the island.

When I lived in Cayman, you used to buy a shit “island car” for a price X and sold it years later for that same price or higher (this was way before COVID supply-chain issues). The law of gravity just worked differently.

— 

Arriving in this new world genuinely felt anti-climactic.  

I rushed through all of the East Asians and left Sydney airport in 10 minutes (including getting my suitcase).

Nobody asked me for the visa I had to obtain to get into the country. It was all in the system, and as the officer scanned my passport, he saw that I had been approved to enter. It's pretty logical and straightforward. Ah, technology!

The airport was busy, yet all the traffic was moving smoothly. You got your luggage and were in an Uber or train in a few minutes. There was no waiting. Everything felt clean and modern and worked seamlessly.

Before this trip, I had never been to Sydney. The city might be the farthest away place from the world I know. And yet, I immediately felt like I’d been here many times. Everything felt so familiar.

Strange.

Thirty-six hours in, and I feel completely settled.

I pushed through a monstrous jetlag. I’ve already worked out twice in two different parts of the city (park and beach). I bought groceries, cooked, got drunk at a Korean BBQ, and published part 1 of this travel journal.

So far, I haven’t seen anything unusual that indicates this place is different from anywhere else I’ve been.

Australia will be a piece of cake.

Then, in the car on the way back from Bondi Beach, after a gorgeous sunset, something giant flies out of the tree on the boulevard.

“WTF was that?!” I ask.

My friend calmly responds, “Oh, yeah… I forgot to tell you…bats come out at night from the trees.”

I’ve seen plenty of bats in my life, and while they are super unpleasant, they tend to be relatively tiny, like a small bird.

Not these bats. No, no. These bats have a larger wingspan than pigeons. Something more akin to a medium-sized seagull.

And so, it begins…

—

Three full days in Sydney.

I met up with another friend who lives in the north part of town, a ferry away from the centre (similar to the ferry you take to access Amsterdam Noord). It was great to see his area of the city and hear his perspective, as he’s been here a while.

On the way back, I somehow took the best possible ferry to enjoy the gorgeous sunset over the Opera and the bridge.

A few thoughts have started to form in my mind.

I have this strange feeling of familiarity deep inside. Bats and weird birds aside, I feel at home in Sydney after only three days. I have access to everything I’m used to in New York, London, Sofia, or any other city I frequent. The people around me speak perfect English and are familiar faces (Aussie, American, British, East Asian). The flow of the city is something I’m used to.

And yet, despite all this familiarity, I feel like I’ve disappeared from the world that I know and teleported to a parallel universe – like one of those Rick & Morty episodes.

My move to the Cayman Islands in 2017 removed me from my European life. Time zone, distance, and a hectic work schedule meant that I lost most contact with my past life during the work week. Rest and the lust for life made weekends a precious commodity, so I lost touch with Europe for months at a time.

But this move introduced me to North America and plugged me straight into the big capitalist machine that drives the world. 

Well…being in Sydney feels like neither of those lives exists. Everything urgent, interesting, and generally distracting seems to happen while I sleep:

• You wake up to a million texts from friends who have been living their day the entire time you’ve been sleeping. There is a lot to respond to, but you don’t get the stress and urgency of constant pinging.

• Instagram posts have gone up, but you miss them because now it’s hours later, and the IG algorithm has fresher content to suggest to you.

• US financial markets open at 11:30 pm and close at 6 am. You wake up and witness the drama…in hindsight. Bulls, bears, Twitter assholes, economic data, war… it’s all in the past, and you can’t do anything about it. You are not emotionally involved and are not pressured to make rash decisions.

• Champions League football in Europe has ended. You see the score, shrug, and move on.

Now, I’m not saying that is a great way to live forever. Certainly not what I’m looking for, as I love the life I am building at the moment. But if you are looking to reset the systems and completely disappear from Europe or North America for a few weeks/months and yet feel right at home, then Sydney should be your starting point. I’m guessing Melbourne is the same.

I am in love with this place. Full stop.

I am sure red flags will appear in due course, which is expected as you get to know a person or a place better. But fundamentally, Sydney ticks most of my boxes – incredibly clean, modern infrastructure, great weather, lots and lots of nature everywhere, beach life, very walkable and great transportation, happy and fit people, plus so much more. (bonus points for being relatively cheap if you earn in US dollars)

There is no time to dwell on all of this, though. Just passing thoughts that I’m writing down to reflect on at the end of my stay in Australia.

I really wanted to do a few things in Australia (aside from visiting my friends), and the top of that list was to dive the Great Barrier Reef.

I have friends who have worked at the reef and others who have been there to dive, so I’ve heard a lot, and my anticipation was high.

My initial plan was to go to Cairns just before my second weekend in Sydney. I wanted to live on a boat for a few days and dive every day.

Nature had other plans, though. During my first few days in Sydney, the weather forecast for Cairns (and the region) for the following week was rain and clouds. Being tens of meters underwater as the rain pours above you is fun on a regular dive, but not when you have travelled half the world to see an extensive diversity of colourful fish and coral.

My only window was the next three days when the forecast was still sunny. I had to fly out within the next 24 hours.

Life happens, and we adjust.

So, I rushed to organise everything and flew to Airlie Beach – a less touristy destination than Cairns with a better weather forecast.  

You know you are in a big country if you can fly for a few hours and land in a drastically different climate. I went from the low 20s Celsius and moderate humidity to the high 20s, 75%+ humidity, and a high prevalence of palm trees.

Welcome to the Tropics.

Airlie Beach immediately reminded me of the island life in Cayman – lovely beaches, calm sea, two streets where everything is located, service staff and a particular class of tourists that love to congregate in a few shitty bars with loud music, cheap beer and mediocre bar food.

My Airbnb felt more like a jungle house in Bali than a beach town property, which provided a nice isolation from the rowdiness of the crowd.

Time to dive!

The first hour on the boat taking us to the reef felt more like I was on a cruise ship than a dive boat. My expectations had completely led me astray. I’d been used to tiny boats with six people on them, cruising around and diving wherever we saw fit.

That was not the case here.

I was on a giant boat with about 100+ people with various interests—mostly snorkellers, a few divers, and plenty of boat trip aficionados.

I had made a huge mistake. Or so I thought…

We reached our main stop at one of the many reefs, where we anchored and attached to a large pontoon—a structure that remains above the reef at all times, bolted to the sea floor. Fascinating. 

In hindsight, it all makes sense, of course. You can’t just go and dive one of the most in-demand and widely protected natural sites in the world without any infrastructure or proper procedures. There was an assembly line process of getting every diver equipped and instructed about what was to come. Proper safety checks were conducted.  

That is when I switched from “doom and gloom” to being impressed and excited. Sure, it was not the casual dive with the local crew, but that is the price you pay for going to a place in high demand.

It was not better or worse; it was just different.

The dives were wonderful, and it was great to get back underwater. Although the visibility that day was only 6/10, there was so much diversity to enjoy that I quickly stopped fretting about conditions.

Usually, I don’t find coral that interesting, but I guess until that point, I had just not experienced diverse enough coral.

Then we saw a giant turtle, and time stopped. 

To me, swimming with turtles is one of the most incredible experiences. Most other fish are nice to observe but difficult to get close to (without bait) as they swim away from you or hide in nooks and crannies. But turtles are right there, in front of you, slowly cruising through the water without a worry in the world. Such a gracious creature.

We should all strive to be a bit more like turtles and a bit less like the monkeys that we are.

This image has been my iPhone background for years to remind me of that. 

I got less than a meter away and started swimming parallel to it. Pure presence. Nothing else mattered. All the garbage in my head disappeared. Twenty seconds felt like an eternity.

The dive ended, and we all came out with giant smiles and so much excitement. The dive master told us this was a hawksbill turtle, which is on the endangered species list, and Australia is one of its main regions.

It was a great day, after all.

On the ride back, I relaxed and had several beers, reflecting on the trip so far. That big smile was on my face the entire time. 

Going diving in my first few days in Australia meant that I had a full week ahead of me to add something else to the itinerary. My Sydney friends had an idea: “You should go camping and hiking in the Australian outback and see Urulu.”

Day 8, 7.30 am GMT+9.5 – Ayers Rock Campground

I woke up at 4 am this morning in the back of an SUV, made coffee in the camp kitchen, and called my friends in Sofia to form a virtual war room for the Burning Man main ticket sale.

I’ve now performed this yearly ritual from various locations—the Australian outback, the US immigration line at JFK, the office in Cayman, and multiple homes around the world.

I can safely say that the open sky in the Australian desert, with the Milky Way and millions of stars above me and the wind in my face, is by far the best.

I saw three shooting stars last night as I lost myself in that sky. I had a good feeling about our early morning chances.

We managed to get exactly three accounts through the door. Whether in Nevada, Australia, or Morocco, the desert always provides.

Job done. Time for sunrise.

I’ve been in the Australian outback since midday yesterday.

The plane landed parallel with Urulu (that red rock I was talking about) to tease us about what was to come.

I headed over to pick up my SUV rental—it would be my transport and home for the next two nights.

As I approached the counter and saw the face of the woman from the rental agency, it hit me…like an unexpected slap on a first date…I’d forgotten my driver’s license.

Oh, the horror…!

I stood in front of the woman, silent, motionless, holding my face. Then I started laughing. She had no idea what was going on and was so confused.

You see, she didn’t know that I had performed this mighty task several prior times when arriving in Cayman, only to bear the ridicule of friends and colleagues.

Those 10 seconds of silence and shame I spent deep in my head felt endless. As Seneca rightly said:

It was my lucky day, after all, as the woman was willing to work with a photo of my license. This almost never happens, even in remote locations with weak laws.

I’d like to think my smile convinced her, but in reality, she probably felt sorry for this fool.

I drove to the camp and got my spot. Ah, happy days.

I went to check out the outdoor kitchen and chill for a few minutes. Excited to start exploring, I went back to the car.

Keys…where are the keys? Left pocket? No. Right pocket? No. Fuck…

I ran back to the camp kitchen only to find them at the table where I sat.

God, please help me not die in the next 48 hours…

Finally, on the road, I started driving towards that mighty red rock. The road was empty and seemingly endless. Left and right, all you could see were sand and stones with a deep red clay colour and bright green plants. Above me, the sky was piercing blue.

The more I drove, the larger Urulu got in front of me. My eyes couldn’t focus on anything else. Its presence drew me in – it was enchanting and, frankly, overwhelming.

As I was driving, tears started pouring from my eyes. I was not sad—far from it—but genuinely swallowed and overwhelmed by everything around me. The contrast of all these intense colours and the magnitude of the rock was just magical.

It’s really hard to explain, and an image does not do it justice.

I stopped the car and recorded an audio message to my friends:

I genuinely meant it. And it only got better from there.

That first night and morning I spent by myself (leading to the sunrise above) was another one of those moments of pure presence—not thinking about the future or being introspective about the past, just being there in the moment, getting lost in the colours and light.

The sunset, night sky, and sunrise trifecta I experienced was the best I had ever seen. Usually, you only get 2 of the 3.

The dynamic changed on the second day when my friend arrived. The back of that SUV certainly got a lot tighter, but he brought a bottle of Sydney’s finest whisky, so we were going to be fine. 

We hiked many kilometres in the dry desert around Uluru and Kata Tjuta (the less famous rock in the area) and learned that you shouldn’t do it midday when there is no hiding from the sun.

We talked about the past, present, and future.

We made way too many inappropriate jokes that couldn’t make it past the Editor-in-chief of this ambitious newsletter.

We drank, we laughed, and just gave in to the spectacle.

You can’t fake these smiles.

You know what we also bonded over? Our mutual hatred of the hundreds of tiny little flies that abuse you like clockwork from 10 am until right after sunset. 

On one of the hikes, I was the main buffet for them. 

My mate looked at me and said: “I guess that is what it feels like to be a piece of shit.” 

I still laugh at that one.

Two hours into the same hike, quite dehydrated and burnt, I made one of those roaring sounds and loudly spit out everything that was in my mouth. Unfortunately, I seemed to have forgotten that I had a tight net around my face to protect me from all the flies.

At least you can’t blame me for not being present… 

We couldn’t stop laughing. Full of shame and no regrets, I cleaned myself, and we continued.

It’s all fun and games in the desert. 

Later, at the airport gate, on our way back to Sydney, I scanned my boarding pass, and the computer made an error noise. The airline staff started murmuring, “This is the guy.”

Words you never want to hear…

With 25 minutes to take off and everyone seated on the plane, I was taken to the “back room” to have my checked bag searched. My only advice to you is—don’t try to check in a gas stove.

I ran through security again, then to the gate and was officially escorted to the plane. Dripping sweat, I showed my boarding pass to the head steward, who was not smiling, and did the walk of shame through the aisles of hundreds of unamused passengers.

The 48 hours I had…

Day 13, 15:00 GMT+10

I’m at Sydney Airport. Again. It feels like that place has become my second home lately.

I’ve spent the last two weeks in Australia and am on my way to Bali.

Two weeks. Gone. Poof. In the history books.

Where? How?!

Time continues to be relentless and unstoppable (as I wrote months ago).

In the last two weeks, I’ve experienced quite a bit from this country – the big city, the small beach town, the outback.

My friends and I also spent the last two days in Hunter Valley, one of the main wine regions, tasting wines across multiple vineyards. I finally saw kangaroos! Many of them. 

I’ve seen insects the size of bats, bats the size of birds, and birds larger than humans. I’ve seen an incredibly diverse variety of plants, coral, and animals, some endangered and some only present in Australia.

My opinion hasn’t changed – I love this place. If anything, that view has strengthened. 

Several people asked me: “Why don’t you move here then?”

The answer is simple—I no longer feel the need to run away and start from 0. I’ve worked hard and sacrificed a lot over the last ten years to build solid foundations around me across two continents. I’d like to keep building what I’ve started.

The benefits of compounding never come if you continuously start from 0.

Australia is lovely, and I will spend more time here over the coming years and decades. But it’s just too far away for me at this stage of my life. Life’s too short to continuously run further and further away from everything you know.

In any case, Australia delivered...and then some…and then some more. 

My resting heart rate two days ago (before drinking my weight in wine) reached 47—the lowest reading in the last 12 months. I’m calm, present, and happy. The demons don’t get enough oxygen to overstay their welcome.

On my way to Bondi Beach on day 2 in Sydney, I spent some time in the Westfield Mall in the neighbourhood. Less than 48 hours later, as I was leaving for Airlie Beach, a guy stabbed several people in that exact mall. 

Shit like that stops you in your tracks and makes you think.

Life remains undefeated. Live it. 

As we continue…

G.