The wheels touched down at Brisbane Airport at half past six in the morning, and the first thing I noticed was the light. It was that clear, sharp winter light that makes everything look like it's been polished. I'd been on a plane for fourteen hours, and my body thought it was midnight, but the sun was up and the air outside the terminal had that crisp, clean bite to it. Ten degrees, maybe. I stood there with my backpack and just breathed it in. This was it. The start of a long loop around this country, and it all begins here, in Queensland's subtropical winter.
My plan for these first few weeks is simple: get the boring stuff sorted, find my feet, and get a feel for Brisbane before I head north up the coast. I've got a short-term rental lined up in South Bank, so I grab a train from the airport into the city. And here's the thing that immediately tells you you're in a different kind of place—the train fare from the airport is about twenty bucks, but once you're in the city, every single bus, train, and ferry ride is a flat fifty cents. Not a dollar fifty. Fifty cents. Apparently they made it permanent in 2024, and it's saving commuters thousands of dollars a year compared to Sydney. I tapped my contactless card on the reader, and it just worked. No ticket, no fuss. So I'm already ahead.
The train slides through the suburbs, and I'm watching the houses go past. Lots of them are these old Queenslanders—timber homes up on stilts with big verandas, tin roofs, and all these frangipani trees in the gardens. My rental is a small one-bedroom place in a block near the river, and I'm paying about fourteen hundred a month, which from what I can tell is pretty typical for a modest place outside the CBD. It's not fancy, but it's got a little balcony that looks out over the rooftops, and the air smells like eucalyptus and someone's cooking breakfast. I drop my bags, have a shower, and head straight back out. No point in sleeping. The best way to beat jet lag is to keep moving.
First stop: coffee. Because this is Australia, and if you're going to understand anything here, you start with coffee. I walk down to a place called Coffee Anthology on Charlotte Street, which apparently does a decent flat white. Now, I'm not a coffee snob, but I've heard the legend of Australian coffee culture, and I want to see if it lives up. I order a flat white, and it comes out in a ceramic cup with this perfect little rosetta on top. It's smooth, rich, not bitter, and costs about four and a half bucks. For comparison, that's maybe three dollars US, and it's better than most coffee I've had anywhere. So, okay. I get it. This is a thing.
With coffee in hand, I go for a walk along the river. The Brisbane River is this wide, brown, tidal thing that winds through the city, and on a winter morning it's got this calm, almost sleepy quality. I cross over the Victoria Bridge and end up in South Bank, which is this eighteen-hectare riverside parkland that used to be a World Expo site back in 1988. Now it's got this artificial beach called Streets Beach—a man-made lagoon with sand and palm trees right in the middle of the city. It feels bizarre in the best way. The water's probably too cold for a swim in August, but there are already a few brave souls in there. I walk along the Clem Jones Promenade, past the Wheel of Brisbane, and it's all very clean and curated, but it's got a good energy to it.
Now, the practical stuff. I need a bank account, and I've read that the big banks let you set one up online before you land, but I couldn't be bothered with all that, so I walk into a Commonwealth Bank branch on Queen Street Mall. I've got my passport and a letter from my rental agency, which is my proof of address, and that plus my passport gives me the hundred points of ID they ask for. The whole thing takes about twenty minutes. They're friendly, efficient, and I walk out with a working card and a mobile app. Easy. Next, a SIM card. I pop into a Telstra shop nearby and pick up a prepaid SIM for about thirty bucks, which gets me more data than I'll ever use. I show my passport and the same proof of address, and they set it up on the spot.
By now it's lunchtime, and I'm starving. I head back to South Bank and find a place called Riverbar & Kitchen, which is right on the water, overlooking the river and the Story Bridge in the distance. I order a burger and a local beer, and the whole thing comes to about twenty-five dollars. The beer is a XXXX, which I know is the local brew—they have a brewery in Milton, just outside the city—and it's exactly what you want on a sunny winter day. The sky is that impossibly blue Queensland blue, and the light is so clear that the buildings across the river look like they're in high definition. I sit there for an hour, just watching the CityCat ferries slide up and down the river, and I think: this is going to be okay. This is going to be more than okay.
In the afternoon, I decide to explore a bit more. I take a free CityHopper ferry across the river to New Farm, which is this leafy, riverside suburb with a kind of village feel. I get off at the Brisbane Powerhouse, which is an old power station turned arts venue, and I wander through the Saturday farmers market that's happening in the grounds. There are stalls selling local honey, sourdough, and these little pastry things called vanilla slices that are basically a custard explosion in a breadcrumb coat. I buy one and eat it on a bench overlooking the river. It costs about four dollars, and it's worth every cent. The park is full of families, dogs, and people playing cricket on the grass. Everyone seems to have a dog with them. I make a mental note: Australians really do love their dogs.
As the sun starts to get low, I take the ferry back to the city and wander up into Fortitude Valley—or just 'the Valley', as everyone calls it. This is Brisbane's nightlife heart, and even in the afternoon you can feel the energy. There are laneways with murals, rooftop bars, and the Chinatown Mall, which is a bit quieter than the ones in Sydney or Melbourne but still has that buzzing, slightly chaotic feel. I stop in at a place called Joey's, which does decent casual food, and grab a quick snack—a pork belly bao, maybe—just to keep the energy up. It's about twelve dollars, and it hits the spot.
Back at the flat, I'm starting to crash. The jet lag is hitting me like a wave, but I force myself to stay up a few more hours. I make a cup of tea in the kitchen, my first tea in Australia, and I stand on the balcony watching the city lights come on. The air is cool, maybe fourteen degrees, and there's a slight breeze coming off the river. I think about the next few weeks: I've got to find a car, plan my route north, and line up a few things along the coast. But right now, it's just this moment. I'm in Brisbane, it's the first of August, and the city is gearing up for the Ekka—the Royal Queensland Show—which is apparently a huge deal. It's the 150th anniversary this year, and the city's going to be packed with people holding showbags and eating dagwood dogs. I'm not sure I'll make it, but I like knowing it's happening.
I check my phone for tomorrow's forecast: a high of about twenty degrees, sunny, light winds. Perfect for what I've got planned—a walk up to the Mount Coot-tha lookout, which I'm told has the best view of the city. I'm also going to check out the Botanic Gardens at the base of the mountain, which have a Japanese garden, which seems random but lovely. And I need to sort out my Tax File Number, which I can do online. It's free, and it's what I'll need to work here if I ever decide to. I make a list on my phone, set the alarm for seven, and crawl into bed. The last thing I hear is the faint hum of the city outside, and a plane passing overhead, and I'm asleep in about thirty seconds.
It's been a day and a half, and I already feel like I'm getting the hang of this place. The pace is slower than I'm used to, but in a good way. People say 'g'day' when you walk into a shop, and they mean it. The coffee is good, the air is clean, and the river runs through everything like a calm, steady heartbeat. This is the start of a long road—I've got a lot of kilometres ahead of me, from the working towns of the beef and sugar country up through the dry-season tropics, all the way to the reef at Cairns. But for now, I'm here. And here is pretty great.
That's all for this first episode of the Australia Travel Podcast. I'm Jack Thornton, and I'm just getting started. If you're thinking about making the move, or even just planning a trip, the single best piece of advice I can give you is to start with the paperwork. Get your visa sorted, open a bank account, set up a SIM, and get a proof of address as soon as you can. It makes everything else so much easier. In the next episode, I'm going to take you up to the Glass House Mountains, and then we'll talk about getting a car and driving the coast. Until then, g'day.
I'm standing on my balcony, the last bit of daylight fading over the city, and a single thought crosses my mind: I made the right call. This is the adventure I was looking for.