Brisbane

We first saw the city from across the river, early light catching on the glass of tall buildings like someone had dusted them with gold. The Brisbane River curled slow and wide, holding the city in a gentle loop. Ferries drifted past, quiet and effortless, like the day hadn’t fully woken up yet. Somewhere in the distance, the Story Bridge stretched across the sky, steel and shadow, while jacarandas spilled lavender clouds onto the pavement below.

We wandered South Bank first. The kids kicked off their shoes and ran through the shallow pools, shrieking when the water turned unexpectedly cold, chasing each other beneath palms that rustled just enough to feel like holiday. Somewhere behind us, someone played guitar soft, familiar chords that followed us past the cafés and open-air galleries. We stopped for gelato and watched a dragon boat skim across the water, oars rising in rhythm. It felt like a city holding its breath between stories.

Up on the Wheel of Brisbane, the city unspooled beneath us. Rooftops, bridges, the winding thread of the river pulling everything together. One of the kids pressed their face to the glass and whispered, “It looks like a toy city.” We didn’t correct them. From up there, the cranes looked like scaffolding for dreams still being built.

We crossed the bridge on foot, the river turning silver under a sky that couldn’t decide between rain and sun. In the Botanic Gardens, the air was thicker lush and green and ancient. We walked beneath fig trees that tangled overhead like something out of a fairytale, and the kids collected leaves too big for their backpacks. Somewhere, hidden in the shade, a bush turkey darted out and made them scream-laugh until they couldn’t breathe.

Post by Quinnie_ | Sep 23, 2025