Ten years ago today, give or take a few hours for time difference, I stood at a check-in desk at Adelaide Airport and handed over a UK working visa and a one-way ticket to Rome. The lady behind the desk was having some trouble comprehending this.

“But it’s only a one-way ticket!” She kept saying. “How will you get home?”
I found this exasperating. Why did it matter how I was getting home? I wasn’t intending to come home any time soon, and I was pretty sure that when I did I would be able to book a flight from a foreign computer. She handed over my boarding pass, still looking unconvinced, and I headed into the airport, farewell party in tow.

What filled me then were the same feelings I still have whenever I leave a country that has become familiar – a mixture of sadness, excitement, anticipation, a little regret, and a sense of completion. Once chapter finishing, another one beginning – another blank page to fill, hopefully with something that hasn’t been written before.

On this occasion, I felt like I was starting a new page after many, many pages of the same old, same old. I’d always dreamed about travelling overseas – and finally it was happening!

But why did it take me so long? Oh, there were so many reasons. I needed to save more money, I’d just started a new job, there was a birthday, a wedding, always some occasion coming up. It was my grandmother who finally gave me the answer, although she didn’t realise it at the time – she was planning her next holiday – Alaska I think – and she said to me, “It’s pointless me trying to save for a holiday – I just put it on the credit card, enjoy myself, and then when I’ve paid it off I book the next one.” I realised that if I waited until I’d saved the money, I would never be going anywhere. I went to the bank and took out a loan. The very next day I went to a travel agent’s and booked a one-way ticket to Rome.

My plan was simple – I would spend a month or so in Italy, staying with some old friends and generally having a holiday, then I would fly to England and look for work. I didn’t know how long I would spend in Italy, so I hadn’t booked my flight to London – I think this is what gave the check-in lady such consternation. I stayed just long enough for a friend’s wedding and the previously mentioned grandmother’s 80th birthday party, then I was off. It was a Saturday – June 30th, 2007.

Thinking back on it now, I’m struck by the confidence and conviction I had in my plan, which was hardly a plan at all. I had no doubts – unlike the check-in lady – that it would all work out ok. The only thing I didn’t have much of was money, but I was going to get a job so that was fine. I didn’t know for sure how things were going to turn out, but I knew without question that it would be alright.

Ten years later, I can look back and say that it was. Some things went to plan, some things didn’t, but that’s ok. I’m proud of myself for making that initial decision and finding a way to make my dream a reality. But what happened to that person who believed that “things would work out the way they always do”? Thinking on it now, I can’t remember if I’ve felt such conviction or confidence since that day, when I was standing at the check-in desk with my one-way ticket and a suitcase full of things I didn’t need. A decade of life experiences and a string of frustrating circumstances have worn down my confidence and sapped my energy levels. Don’t get me wrong – in that time I’ve had some amazing adventures and meeting some truly inspiring people – I wouldn’t change any of it. But what happened to my confidence, that feeling of certainty, the spring in my step?

That’s what this blog is about. The next chapter, the next dream. I don’t feel ready, I still need to go to work, there are many other things that I really ought to do. But it’s time to start writing. I don’t know what I’ll write about, I don’t know how long it will last, and I don’t have that same belief that I did ten years ago that it will all work out fine. But I’ve taken the first step, and now I’ll wait and see where the road leads. After all, isn’t that the point of a one-way ticket?