On Tour (Again)

11 planes, another borrowed travel cot on the 68th floor, and my mother’s tapenade — dispatches from a life in motion

ROOM FOR SIESTA

May 14, 2026

“Is it crazy that we were in Denmark last week?”

It actually is.

We came home. And then we left again.

My almost-19-month-old beautiful boy has been on 11 planes so far in 2026. Eleven.

The family is still on tour.

I’m writing my weekly Substack sitting in yet another bed that isn’t mine. My baby sleeps beside me in another borrowed travel cot — with incredible views of the Brisbane Botanic Gardens from the 68th floor.

It still feels insane. How much we’ve traveled this year. How absent my partner has been too.

And yet — I feel like I’m living a dream. Even though it’s not my own career making any of this possible.

I feel so, so grateful to escape the routine and the bubble of full-time motherhood.

For a year and a half, I’ve been almost entirely on my own. In our little house by the sea. With my routines, my schedules, my rhythms — which, knowing me, means holding myself to an impossibly high standard. As a mother, as a wife, as the one who holds everything together.

Traveling gives me permission to let that go. Because not everything is under my control anymore — and honestly? What a relief.

I can’t cook as much. I have fewer boxes to tick. I let go a little more. And I have the immense luck that my baby follows our rhythm, apparently happy to go from one place to the next.

I miss home too. And by home I mean the small space we’ve built — in a metaphorically sense — in Austinmer.

Coming back was so sweet, even knowing we’d leave again. I love where we live.

The warm morning sun comes in through one side of the house and disappears out the other. I spend most of my time in the kitchen, watching how the light shifts across our island countertop as the day moves along. It never gets old.

And all the encounters — with so many people I adore. Close friends. Familiar faces. Small, lovely conversations that remind you why you chose the life you chose. And how lucky I am to be surrounded by such a special community.

The best thing of leaving and coming back is the appreciation that comes with it.

The only thing I actually cooked this week, purely for pleasure, was my mother’s tapenade. Something simple that connects me to my other home, on the other side of the world.

A recipe my baby absolutely devoured — pulling at my pants again and again, repeating “maáh.” His way of saying más. More.

Some things are universal.

So here it is.

I hope you like it.

Besitos, Celia.

The dip everyone keeps asking me for. The dip I used to make at Franks Wild Years. And the dip I always make when I need to feel the comfort of being home.