Before I left for Australia, I told a colleague that I would be traveling on the Indian Pacific, the train that connects Sydney to Perth, and that I intended to stay in Perth for a few days. He asked me when I would arrive in Perth, and since I had already booked the trip, I could give him the exact date. I knew that he had a brother in Perth, but for some reason, I didn’t think much of it.
After a journey of about 70 hours, I finally arrived in Perth. Standing on the platform, I was talking to another German traveler while we waited for our luggage, much like at an airport. Suddenly, a man approached us and asked if we knew a Mr. … I have to admit, I didn’t quite catch the name, so I instinctively said, “No, I don’t know him.” However, the name sounded vaguely familiar, so I followed the man and asked again who he was looking for. To no one’s surprise, it turned out he was looking for me. As it turned out, he was my colleague’s brother. He had come to pick me up and even invited both me and the other German traveler—whom I had just met on the platform—to his home. I was truly surprised and at the same time very pleased.
On our first day in Perth, our hosts made an effort to show us around the city and its surroundings. I hadn’t expected such a warm and welcoming introduction to the region, and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.
The following day, we set out to explore the city on our own, and I quickly realized that I really liked Perth. Despite the downtown area being dominated by skyscrapers, I didn’t feel overwhelmed. Even though it is the largest city on Australia’s west coast, it never struck me as a place of stress and constant hustle. Everything seemed to move at a more relaxed and leisurely pace.
Taking advantage of the fantastic weather, we decided to take a trip to Fremantle, drawn by the prospect of experiencing one of Perth’s cultural hubs and enjoying the fresh sea air. Little did we know that Fremantle also boasted impressive architecture and fascinating sights, something we only discovered once we arrived. It turned out to be a day we fully enjoyed from start to finish.
After a day of sightseeing and relaxation, we headed back, aiming to reach Kings Park before sunset. The park offered a stunning view of the city, and we wanted to take it all in during daylight hours.
We had just arrived back in the city and walked for a few minutes when I felt that something was missing. I couldn’t immediately pinpoint what it was, but the feeling gnawed at me. Then, like a lightning bolt, it hit me—I had forgotten my camera bag! The realization struck me hard, especially because I had no recollection of where I had left it. It could have been anywhere in Fremantle or even on the train. I had no idea.
Assuming I had left it on the train, as that seemed like the easiest place to start searching, we made our way back to the station and went straight to the railway police. I explained my predicament, and they immediately took action. The wait for news was agonizing—it took three long hours before we received any information. Apparently, someone had found a bag, but they couldn’t confirm if it was mine. The finder, however, had not handed it over to the railway police, as they didn’t trust them. Instead, they had taken it home.
The question now was how we could find this person and confirm if it was indeed my bag. Once again, the railway police were incredibly helpful. They arranged for a service vehicle to take us to the finder’s house—a remarkably generous gesture.
It turned out that a woman had found my bag, and I felt an immense sense of relief. Only then did I realize that my wallet and all my documents had also been inside. It was only now that I fully grasped how lucky I was. I was beyond grateful to all those who had helped me. The finder refused any reward and only wanted a simple “thank you,” which I gave her wholeheartedly.
However, I felt a little sorry for her because she had gotten into some trouble over my bag. Her father worked for the railway company and was upset that she had not trusted the railway police (a private security firm) and had instead taken the bag home.
As if my luck wasn’t already overflowing that day, we were even given a ride back to our hosts.
The next day, we visited Rottnest Island, a small island off the coast of Perth, which is a popular destination for day-trippers. The island’s rich wildlife and natural beauty made for a wonderful day.
Since motor vehicles were banned on the island, we had to rely on either walking or renting bicycles. We opted for the latter and set off to explore the island. Along the way, we discovered stunning beaches, rolling sand dunes, rocky coastlines, and, of course, the island’s most famous inhabitants—the Quokkas, a small species of kangaroo.
We had made it to the far end of the island when it was time to head back, as the ferry wouldn’t wait for us.
Just as we started our return journey, one of the pedals on my bike broke off. I was stunned—how was I supposed to ride with only one pedal and still make it back in time? I had no choice but to pedal with just one foot. Surprisingly, it worked, and we even managed to overtake some other cyclists along the way.
Back at the bike rental shop, I showed them the broken pedal, expecting at least a discussion about damages. To my surprise, they immediately refunded my rental fee—no questions asked. I was genuinely impressed by their generosity.
So, despite the mishap, the trip ended on a positive note.
The next day marked my departure from Perth. I was heading back to Melbourne, from where I would eventually fly home.
My hosts kindly drove me to the airport, a gesture I truly appreciated. When we arrived, they asked, “Andre, do you have everything?” I glanced around the car and replied, “Yes, I have everything.”
With that, I headed into the airport, and my hosts drove off.
Without lingering, I went straight to my airline’s check-in counter to complete all the necessary formalities. As I walked through the airport, an uneasy feeling crept over me, as if something was wrong. When I finally reached the counter, it dawned on me—I had left my camera bag somewhere. I was sure it was still in the car. But there was nothing I could do now, as I had no way of reaching my hosts. My only option was to contact them later and hope to retrieve it somehow.
Since I still wanted to take photos in Melbourne, I reluctantly bought a replacement camera in the duty-free shop. It wasn’t an easy decision, as it wasn’t cheap, but I consoled myself with the thought that at least I could still capture the remainder of my trip.
In Melbourne, I stayed at a youth hostel, which made it easy to coordinate my city explorations.
During one of my outings, I went to a post office to send some postcards. Afterward, I wandered into a supermarket in the same building. As I roamed the aisles, that same feeling of loss struck me again.
This time, I immediately knew what was missing—my new camera.
I was certain I had left it in the post office. Rushing back, I hoped against hope that it would still be there. I really couldn’t bear another loss.
Once again, luck was on my side. The camera was still exactly where I had left it. I vowed to be more careful with my belongings from then on.
Thankfully, I managed to get through the rest of my journey without losing anything else—though, to be fair, I only had two more days left before heading home.