How Australia tested my voice and revealed my truth

Chapter 19: Turns out almost passing out in hot yoga is great for personal growth.

Welcome to Chapter 19 of Love at First Flight, my memoir about everything I learned on my solo round-the-world trip.

It’s June 2013 and after four months of travelling across Asia, I've landed in Australia.

Join me as I discover the Great Barrier Reef, survive ‘death yoga,’ reconnect with friends and learn what happens when I finally find my voice.

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"I can't—"

The words caught in my throat as I bent so far backwards I thought I’d snap, gasping in the intense heat.

My heart hammered and sweat poured. Still, I smiled - my default defence when things got hard.

Four months of solo travel across Asia had made me resilient. But despite building a successful communications career, advocating for myself remained a challenge.

Australia, it seemed, wasn’t going to let me off so easily.

Arriving in the Australian winter

I shuffled through the airport, barely functioning. After my flight from Bali and a 4am transfer in Darwin, I was running on empty by the time I reached Cairns.

Blinking against the brilliant Queensland sun, I grabbed a taxi to my hostel. It was winter here, but the skies were clear - a sharp contrast to the perpetual grey back home in London.

"Where to?" asked the driver, his accent unmistakably Australian.

Smiling, I gave him the name of my hostel. I was happy to return to a country where English was the native language and communication was easy again. I couldn’t wait to meet up with my friends here.

First, I had a date with the famous waters of the Great Barrier Reef.

It was time to dive into the blue.

Photo by Laya Clode on Unsplash

Lessons of the throat chakra

As the taxi wound through Cairns, my first impression was how clean everything looked - a relief after all the dust and litter I'd got used to in Asia.

I'd been following a chakra course throughout my travels, each location somehow perfectly aligned with what I was studying. We'd just moved on to the throat chakra, associated with the colour blue - the same hue as the Coral Sea I'd soon be exploring.

This chakra helps project our thoughts and ideas into reality, but it can also be a bottleneck, our teacher Sam explained. She’d nodded knowingly when I mentioned I'd noticed tension in my jaw, as if I’d been physically stopping myself from saying something:

"Many of us hold ourselves back without realising it," she said. “We stay silent to keep the peace, or we talk without truly listening."

Sam's final piece of advice had stayed with me: to say your truth, you first have to know your truth.

I wasn't sure I understood my truth yet, but Australia might offer me some clues. To help, I'd picked up eucalyptus and tea tree oils - Australian plants known to balance the throat chakra.

My first test would be underwater, where words wouldn't help me at all.

Photo by Manny Moreno on Unsplash

The language of the sea

The day arrived for diving the Great Barrier Reef. As our boat cut through the turquoise waters, I felt a mixture of anticipation and nerves—it was my first dive since earning my scuba qualification in Malaysia.

As we entered the water, every breath through my regulator rumbled loudly in my ears. The reef stretched out below, more magnificent than I'd imagined. Giant clams opened and closed like prehistoric mouths, while sea pineapples decorated the seabed. Schools of barracuda parted as we swam through and occasional sharks cruised in the distance.

I watched a photographer communicate with the sea creatures. A massive blue Maori wrasse fish followed his hand signals as though it understood his intentions. At his guidance, a giant turtle approached to eat from my hand—an extraordinary moment—even if it almost bit me.

Underwater, we used only gestures—thumbs up for ascending, flat palm for stopping, pointing for discoveries. The only thing that mattered was being understood.

This simplified language was so peaceful compared to my tendency to overthink everything on land. Surrounded by sea creatures who never spoke, yet expressed themselves perfectly, I saw the power of communication in its most essential form.

Me feeding the giant turtle - which almost bit off the end of my thumb!

Testing my limits

Landing in Sydney, I stayed with Amanda - who I'd last seen on our girls’ trip to Italy - in her apartment by Bondi Beach. She invited me to join her at a hot yoga class.

I'd never tried it before. A friend back in London had dubbed it 'death yoga' as it’s done in an insanely hot and humid 40-degree Celsius room, where they thought they were going to die.

Amanda insisted it was transformative. Hesitantly, I agreed and we headed to the studio.

Surfers at the beautiful Bondi Beach.

"If you need to rest, that's fine. But you must stay in the room," the instructor Jordan explained with a knowing smile, as we set up our mats.

Seeing newcomers to the class, he admitted his first hot yoga class had made him think he'd vomit, but he stuck with it. Within five months of practicing it regularly, he knew his life would change forever.

I was intrigued. But even sitting motionless on the mat, I was already dizzy from the heat. The 90-minutes of yoga postures stretched ahead like an impossible sauna marathon.

As we started the poses, sweat poured down my face and into my eyes. My mind screamed at me to give up, but I kept going, as Amanda shot me encouraging smiles. When the doors finally opened at the end of the class, cool air rushed in like a wave of relief. My cheeks flushed and my clothes hung sodden against my skin.

Yet afterwards, in the changing rooms, I felt strangely alive. I could take on the world – after a shower and a much-needed change of outfit.

While I was there, Sydney’s landmarks and buildings were lit up in bright colours for the Vivid festival.

Into the heat

I returned to Jordan’s hot yoga classes every day that week.

While I’d started to get used to this challenging yoga routine, one position in particular daunted me: the camel pose. I’d avoided this deep back bend during my first class because of my previous back troubles. Meanwhile, Jordan prowled the room like a military captain, barking at his troops to do better, be better. I didn’t want him to yell at me.

By my third class, I finally attempted the dreaded pose. Throwing my head back, neck stretched, I tentatively bent backwards while reaching for my feet.

I sensed Jordan approaching. Sweat dripped onto my towel like rain. My upside-down head swimming in the oppressive heat, every instinct screamed escape. Normally, I’d sidestep any confrontation with a smile. But suffering in this yoga torture greenhouse stripped away any politeness. People aren't mind-readers. I had to say how I felt.

"I can't—" I started, my voice catching.

Jordan appeared beside me.

"Go a bit further than you think you can,” he said gently. “The heat makes your muscles more flexible. You'll see."

With his guidance, I bent remarkably further. As my hands found my heels, elation surged through me - I may have even let out a small cheer. I could do more than I believed: only my mindset had been the barrier.

My body had extended beyond its limits. Anything was possible now.

A picture of the ‘camel pose’ that I struggled with. This was on the wall of the hot yoga studio in Sydney.

Finding my purpose

Heading to Coogee Beach, a short bus trip from Bondi, I had an appointment at the home of my chakra teacher, Sam. After months of connecting online, I was finally going to meet her in person. She greeted me warmly and served us tea.

The one-to-one session was more intimate than our group calls - we sat cross-legged on cushions as afternoon light streamed through gauzy curtains. And it was intense.

When she asked what was holding me back from what I wanted in life, I struggled to articulate it. Sentences stumbled out, incomplete and uncertain, about not knowing my direction and feeling lost, despite all my travels. Sam nodded, then guided me into a meditation.

"Close your eyes and picture yourself in a peaceful place," she said. "Now imagine you’re meeting your future self there. What does she look like? What does she tell you to do?”

A burst of emotion rose from deep within me. I wept, as a phrase formed in my mind with unexpected clarity: it is my life purpose to love and give comfort through communication.

The realisation was huge - and overwhelming. How was I going to achieve this, out here, lost in the world, on my own? Sam was confident I’d find a way.

"Trust the path that's unfolding," she said with quiet certainty. "When you align with your true purpose, the universe will support you."

Reflecting on Coogee Beach

After thanking Sam, I walked to the beach alone, needing space to process.

Sitting on the sand, my heart raced with possibility while my inner critic catalogued all the ways I’d probably fail or tried to convince me I’d misunderstood the message altogether. The two feelings competed as the waves crashed rhythmically before me.

To love and give comfort through communication. This was different from my corporate communications career. Perhaps my new purpose would involve connecting people in a more spiritual, personal way than I’d ever done before. But how?

Lying in the fine blonde sand next to me was a large pine cone (I later discovered it was actually a seed pod from the Australian Banksia tree). I picked up this dark, dry, woody structure, holding its weight and turning it over in my hands. I ran my fingertips across the edges of its geometric, open scales.

This pine cone didn't worry. It was perfect at being a pine cone. It was a simply beautiful, natural creation.

I thought about the obstacles I overcame when trying to pass my scuba diving qualification in Malaysia. Now look at me, I had dived the Great Barrier Reef. I’d come so far.

Perhaps I too could find a way to simply, beautifully and naturally be me. Just by being my most authentic self, maybe I could fulfill my life purpose.

The Banksia cone I found on the beach.

Great friends, supportive voices

Reconnecting with friends in Australia was wonderful after months of solo travel. With these people who already knew me, I could share my new perspectives without having to explain my entire life story.

In Melbourne, my former London landlady Jean welcomed me into her home and I went sightseeing with friends. In Adelaide, I saw more friends, including Kate, who’d also been on the fun Italy trip. Amanda flew in to join us for the weekend from Sydney.

That night at Kate's house, the three of us snuggled up in bed like teenagers at a sleepover. In the darkness, we talked more openly.

"I'm scared of going back to my old life," I admitted. "What if I forget all this?"

"You won't," Kate said firmly. "You're different now. I can hear it in your voice."

As I fell asleep, her response resonated deeply. She was right - I had changed. In how I spoke to others and how I listened to myself.

On our final night in Adelaide, we celebrated at a winery before dancing until the early hours. The next morning, Amanda and I woke in a panic, realising we'd overslept with our flight to Sydney departing in an hour.

Kate sped us to the airport and we raced through check-in with pounding hangovers. Somehow, we made it onto the plane, laughing breathlessly as we sank into our seats.

Me on the real-life street in Melbourne where the popular Australian soap ‘Neighbours’ was filmed.

Leaving Australia

My departure from Australia wasn't smooth either.

The flight to New Zealand was cancelled at the last minute, leaving us waiting for hours at the airport for the next one. But I smiled and got chatting with my fellow stranded passengers, which helped to pass the time.

As the aircraft lifted into the cloudless blue Australian sky, I knew my short time here had taught me a lot. That I had friends all around the world. That I needed to speak up, listen and recognise my own authentic voice among the noise.

The truth was, I could do more than I thought possible, if I pushed beyond my limiting mindset.

Everything would be fine; I would find my path. Most importantly I, too, could be perfect at being me - simply, beautifully and naturally.

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Have you ever been to Australia? Or have you tried hot yoga? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Next week, discover how to keep up your wellness routine while you’re travelling, thanks to the best yoga studios around the world - from Argentina to New Zealand.