37 FramesThere was a time before we travelled almost exclusively for work. Before flights felt like commutes. Before boarding passes lived in our email instead of tucked lovingly into journals.
Back then, every trip was a different type of story. Written in the language of detours, bad maps, and gas-station playlists.
We scrapbooked it all. With glue sticks. Glitter pens. Possibly emotional instability.
Now, years later, the pages still smell faintly of jet lag and sunscreen. Proof that every “B” destination somehow built us.
Between business and belonging. Between itinerary and instinct. Between who we were and who we were becoming.
It’s the letter of big skies, bigger seas, and the people who welcomed us like we’d simply taken the long way home.
A nostalgic alphabet of places, people, and moments that built the story of us. So here it is … B, in all its glory.
For borders crossed, buses missed, beaches chased, and beginnings we didn’t see coming.
Badlands, USA
South Dakota. Where the earth forgets it’s supposed to be gentle.A thousand years of wind and grit shaped this Martian dreamscape.
We were storm-chasing that day. Tracking tornadoes with a weather team … when the road curved into the Badlands. The radar said storms were coming. The skies said otherwise. Buttes and spires glowed like embers under a sun that didn’t care what the radar thought.
Buffalo grazed in the distance. Storm clouds kind of teased the horizon. We debated whether sunscreen could double as survival gear.
The stories of the Sioux echoed throughout. Of warriors, buffalo hunts, and a people who called the Great Plains home long before the storms had names.
The Badlands reminded us that sometimes beauty looks like ruin. And that being in a place like this is a privilege.
Biei, Japan
Hokkaido in full color.
Biei’s Blue Pond looks like it’s been edited by nature itself. Turquoise water so unreal you catch yourself checking the settings on your camera. The trees stand like sentinels in still water, perfectly spaced, perfectly silent.
We go to Biei every year… and every year it gives us something different. Rolling fields stretch in every direction, painted with patchwork greens and golds in summer. Lavender, sunflowers, lupines, and poppies turn the hills into a living canvas.
And then comes winter … when the colors drain and the silence deepens. The same fields that shimmer with light in July lie hidden under the deepest snow, every curve softened, every sound swallowed.
We stood there once in the bluest light, watching snow drift across the fields that felt endless.
Biei teaches us, again and again, that contrast is the story. That the same place can bloom and disappear, and somehow be more beautiful each time it returns.
Also: Tracey shouldn’t argue with the flower police.
Bells Beach, Australia
Victoria. Cold. Legendary. Where surfers become philosophers and penguins heckle from shore.
We came for our Point Break fantasy. Left with sand in places no one talks about.
The waves were savage. The air icy. The locals nonchalant. We didn’t surf (you’re welcome, ocean), but we did witness the wild poetry of those who did.
And yes, we wore sweaters. In summer.
Byron Bay, Australia
Before influencers and ring lights, there was Byron.
Laid-back, barefoot, slightly chaotic. The kind of place where salt air sticks to your eyelashes and time politely gives up.
We’ve climbed the lighthouse walk at dawn, been a part of a wedding or two, watched whales breach, and swore we’d live there someday.
We still might.
Baker, USA
Population: 914.
Home of the World’s Tallest Thermometer (because… America).
We stopped purely because it existed … and because “World Famous Alien Jerky” demanded a visit. (We’ve actually been here a few times if you can believe it. We can’t.)
We always leave with snacks of questionable origin and a renewed appreciation for roadside weirdness.
Sometimes the best stories are the ones that start with “Why did we stop here again?”
Bath, England
Roman elegance meets English drizzle.
We soaked in history (and probably sulphur) while wandering cobbled streets that felt like a Jane Austen fever dream. All polite glances, parasols, and potential scandal.
Pigeons, columns, and the faint sound of someone named Nigel playing the lute.
Bath made us feel very cultured. Until we tripped on a cobblestone and remembered who we were.
Beer, England
Yes, it’s a real place.
A tiny seaside village in Devon, where the cliffs glow orange and deckchairs line the pebbles like candy.
We ate fish and chips, and drank… well, beer. Of course. We watched boats drift in, and wondered if retirement was suddenly appealing. One of our favorite holidays with mum and dad and Matt.
Simple. Salty. Perfect.
Bangkok, Thailand
Heat, chaos, and charm … all at once. When we think of all visits and all the time spent here in our youth… it feels so much a part of us.
Tuk-tuks, temples, and traffic that defies physics. We ate everything that didn’t run away first. The city is full of life, neon, and the smell of lemongrass and diesel.
By day, we melted. By night, we danced. Bangkok doesn’t sleep. It just changes outfits.
Barcelona, Spain
Late nights, late breakfasts, and architecture that refuses to sit quietly.
Tapas. Gaudí. The kind of light that forgives jet lag.
We spent days lost in alleys, cameras heavy, hearts happy. Barcelona feels like it’s always about to dance … and we were more than willing partners. Drank more sangria than we ever should have.
We chased light across tiled rooftops and got into a philosophical debate with a bartender about which tapas counted as a vegetable.
Verdict: patatas bravas do if you believe hard enough.
Barbados
Rum punch, reggae, and impossible sunsets.
We swam with turtles, got sunburnt in style, and accidentally joined a beach wedding (long story).
The island taught us that time runs differently where the sea is that blue.
Bali, Indonesia
Incense, chaos, and quiet all at once. Have visited more times than we can count. From north to south and everywhere in-between.
We’ve ridden scooters we had no business riding, bargained badly, and have watched the sun melt into the sea at so many favourite locations.
Bali is one long exhale. The universe saying, “slow down.”
Bergen, Norway
Color. Everywhere.
We fell in love with a city that smells like sea salt and fresh waffles.
Ended up in an emergency room (long story, great drugs), and still called it one of our best trips ever.
That’s how you know it’s love. Ten out of ten. But would make safer decisions. Probably.
Ballarat, Victoria, Australia
Gold rush ghosts and a sky that still looks like it might strike rich.
We squinted at history and swore we heard a fiddle. It was probably a busker. Or our imagination. Either way, it glittered.
Ballina, Australia
The Big Prawn. That’s it. That’s the post.
Okay fine. Also beaches, pies, and the easy charm of the Northern Rivers.
We stopped for an hour, stayed for a weekend. Classic us.
Ballycastle & Ballymoney, Northern Ireland
Cliffs and stories. Game of Thrones. Irish breakfasts.
The edge of the world with better accents.
We drove the Causeway Coast and learned that not all roads lead home. Some lead to fish and chips and laughter that never quite leaves.
Green hills and rain that laughs in the face of umbrellas. Pubs where everyone is someone’s cousin and stories are served with a side of Guinness.
We left with cheeks sore from smiling and hair in full rebellion.
Belfast, Northern Ireland
Titanic city. Big heart.
We expected grit. We found grace. Murals told stories of resilience; locals told better ones in pubs.
Belfast is proof that healing and humor can share a pint.
Bend, Oregon, USA
Craft beer, pine forests, and people who own too much outdoor gear.
We came for one night. Stayed three. (With friends. Can’t believe they’re lucky enough to live here.)
Hiked, laughed, froze, repeated.
Bend: like a postcard that smells faintly of IPA.
We learned that the correct number of flights in a tasting paddle is one more than you planned.
Big Sur, California, USA
Waves colliding with cliffs. The kind of coastline that makes you forget how to breathe.
We stopped at every turnout, pretending it was for the view. Really, we just didn’t want to leave.
Fog rolled in, the radio played the Beach Boys, and for a moment, life was cinematic perfection.
We pulled over every five minutes to say wow again. Big Sur doesn’t need your words. It brings its own.
Beverly Hills, USA
Palm trees, pink hotels, and the faint sound of dreams cashing out.
We checked into the Beverly Hills Hotel just to see if the wallpaper matched the myth (it did).
Somewhere between Rodeo Drive and reality, we found out that glamour smells a lot like sunscreen and valet fees.
And yet, it was fabulous. Because it was ridiculous.
Bryce Canyon, USA
A cathedral of red rock and silence. Spired towers and glowing arches, sculpted by patience and wind.
We’ve been here a number of times now. Once when it snowed. Each visit never loses its wow. We’ve chased sunrises, got caught in a storms, and laughed our way through a parking-lot thunderclap.
Dee disappeared once mid-hike (“just getting a better angle”) and reappeared with the best shot of the trip.
Proof that drama and beauty often arrive together.
Brisbane, Australia
Home. Heat. Humidity. (Not sure if I should include it as it’s home… but every day we spend there is an adventure.)
City meets country with a side of nostalgia.
We grew up here. Before the skyscrapers and rooftop bars. Back when summer storms hit like symphonies and the Gabba echoed with cheers.
Brisbane was our beginning. And still, every return feels like the first time.
Broadbeach, Australia
Gold Coast mornings. Salt in the air, pastel skies, and that unmistakable shimmer of a day about to begin.
Broadbeach has always felt like a pause between worlds. Where the ocean crashes softly, the light feels painted, and the city hasn’t quite woken up yet. We’ve walked here more sunrises than we can count. Barefoot and coffee in hand, chasing first light while the horizon turns to gold.
It’s the kind of place that reminds you that calm can be loud too. Waves crashing, gulls calling, the rhythmic hush of tide and breath.
Some of our favourite mornings ever have started here. No timelines, no flights, no schedules. Just us, the sea, and that endless, familiar stretch of sand.
Broadbeach doesn’t ask for attention. It just quietly holds your best memories.
Barstow, USA
Route 66 in all its faded glory. Desert motels, peeling signs, and the ghost of a jukebox somewhere down the road.
We came for kitsch, found soul.
Stopped for tacos, stayed for stories.
Barstow taught us that detours are just destinations in disguise.
Banff, Canada
Mountains that make you feel forgiven. Lakes so blue they look Photoshopped.
Had the best couple of months of our lives here. We drove through the Canadian Rockies with windows down, hair wild, and hearts louder than the engine.
Banff felt like the world showing off. And for once, we were smart enough to just stop and watch.
Beijing, China
The scale. The history. The smog. The grandeur.
We wandered from Tiananmen to the Great Wall, fueled by dumplings and disbelief. It was overwhelming and extraordinary. Like standing in the middle of time itself.
Some cities whisper. Beijing commands.
Binna Burra, Australia
A cabin in the rainforest, the power out, candles flickering.
The kind of silence that feels alive.
We hiked through ancient trees, watched pademelons in the dark, and remembered how good it feels to disappear for a while.
Binna Burra taught us the art of being still … and how to spot a leech in the shower.
Bordeaux, France
Wine. Obviously.
Cobblestones, cathedrals, and a river that moves like music. We wandered from cafés to cellars, pretending to know things about tannins.
It was one of my first overseas experiences … and probably where our addiction to travel began.
Bordeaux was elegance with a hangover.
Billings & Bozeman, Montana, USA
Skies so wide they make your thoughts feel tidy. Mountains, cowboys, and cold beer.
Pine and dust and the kind of honesty that comes with small towns and big horizons.
We breathed deeper there. Still do when we think about it.
Bridgetown, Barbados
Yes, Barbados again. Because capital cities deserve their own chapter.
Markets humming, courtyards glowing, and a taxi driver who swore he once gave Rihanna directions.
Honestly, we believe him.
Brighton, England
Pebbles underfoot. Seagulls with main character syndrome. Pride flags. Pier lights.
We laughed our way through storms and seagulls that demanded snacks. Every shade of humanity, every kind of joy.
If freedom had a postcard, it would be Brighton.
Brittany, France
Salt butter that rewires your soul. Crepes that could start a religion.
Wind that turns every walk into a windswept novel. Coastal wind and medieval towns. We wandered narrow lanes, spoke terrible French, and found ourselves utterly charmed.
Brittany feels like the end of a story you didn’t want to finish.
Butte, Montana, USA
Main street feels and a diner where refills come with life advice.
Time moves slower there. The coffee does not.
We were strangers for about three minutes.
B is for Being There
Before Wi-Fi plans and read receipts. When the only itinerary was follow the light and see what happens. Every B left a mark. A tiny scar of joy. The good kind. The kind that proves you were there, really there, wide-eyed and a little ridiculous.
Because it was never just geography. It was gravity. The pull of places that insisted on becoming part of who we are.
A small roll call of moments we still talk about
- The Barcelona sunrise we almost missed because churros and sangrias happened at midnight.
- That Bergen ER bracelet tucked in a drawer like a souvenir from a parallel universe.
- The Big Sur pullovers that turned a two-hour drive into six.
- A Bridgetown laugh that sounded like sunshine.
- A Belfast mural that said more than we could.
B is for Brave Enough To Begin Again
Every border we crossed blurred another one inside us. Plans changed. Weather misbehaved. We did too, sometimes.
But we kept saying yes. The scrapbooks got stickier. The stories got better.
And if there’s a thesis to B, it’s this:
You don’t have to know where you’re going to get somewhere beautiful.
📍 Next up: C is for Connections (and Coffee in Every Country)
✈️ Previously: [A is for Adventure (and Adhesive Scrapbook Glue)]
37 Frames
