“I am a woman who hasn’t traveled much. We went on our yearly family holidays. Provence in summer and Courchevel in winter, but apart from a few city trips in Europe, I had barely left the country. Coming to Australia for two entire months is about the biggest step away from normalcy I could take.” She looks at me intently. “Truth be told, the first ten days to two weeks were horrible. I was so out of my depth and I only had myself to rely on. The scenery was stunning, the accommodation just fine, and the people so very nice, but I just couldn’t find my groove. It was so bad that, on more than one occasion, I looked up how much it would cost me to cancel my upcoming reservations and change my flight back.” She brings two fingers to her chest. “This malaise deep in here. A rupture from my routine, from my everyday life, my children, my house. Not to be able to sit in my favorite chair. Not to stop for coffee in my neighborhood tabac before going to work. It was the little things as much as the big things. I don’t want to compare the proximity to my children to a cup of coffee at Gérard’s, but I missed them both in equal measure. Until I realized that to have a successful trip, I should focus on the little things that could make my stay here great, instead of all the overwhelming big things.”

I nod to encourage her to just keep talking, while I hang on every word she says.

“Yes,” she continues, “the landscapes were breathtaking, but, in the end, they weren’t the real reason I came here. It helped that I could think about my life back home with a gorgeous backdrop, no doubt about that, but the hard work would have to take place inside of me.” A tap on the chest again. “And then, little by little, day by day, I started smiling again. I became less flighty. I engaged more with the people I met. I found a routine that pleased me even though I was on the road most of the time. I structured my days so I didn’t have to worry so much about details, and could experience maximum freedom.”

Come to think of it, I didn’t need to prepare any questions. Maybe that’s why I didn’t. Because I subconsciously knew that Camille would just talk—and I would get to know her better and appreciate her even more in the process.