Press pause and let Western Australia do what it does best &mdash; slow the pace, clear the noise, and remind you what stillness feels like. Out here, soul-searching isn&rsquo;t a task. It just happens.

&ldquo;The tyranny of distance&rdquo; &mdash; a phrase Australians toss around with a mix of humour and historical weight. Coined by historian Geoffrey Blainey, it captures the colonial mindset of the 1800s, when the British Empire still viewed Buckingham Palace as the centre of the universe. From that lofty vantage point, Australia &mdash; remote and sunburnt &mdash; wasn&rsquo;t just far. It was unthinkably far. As if it existed on a separate plane entirely, beyond the edge of maps and imagination. And yet, it took me just five hours and forty minutes to fly from <a href="https://www.airasia.com/flights/from-kuala-lumpur-kul-to-perth-per">Kuala Lumpur to Perth</a>. A quick hop, really &mdash; especially aboard a no-fuss AirAsia flight. But still, I found myself returning to Blainey&rsquo;s phrase. Because even now, there&rsquo;s something undeniably majestic about the sheer space between London and Perth. A kind of existential long-haul.

(Image credit: Tourism Western Australia)

<a href="https://www.hommesmalaysia.com/arts-culture-and-lifestyle/treasure-awaits-in-western-australia">That thought lingered as my plane touched down in Perth</a>, its wheels still humming along the tarmac when a warm, steady voice piped through the speakers &mdash; acknowledging the Whadjuk Noongar people as the traditional custodians of the land beneath us. A moment of pause, a ceremonial Acknowledgement of Country. It&rsquo;s a quiet but powerful recognition of a truth that, really, shouldn&rsquo;t need saying: for the Aboriginal people of Australia, Buckingham Palace was never the centre of anything. I felt a rush &mdash; not from jet lag (Malaysia and Perth are in the same time zone), but from something deeper. A kind of pull. The quiet thrill of setting foot in the Wildflower State, knowing this journey with a spiritual, cultural and geographical connection was just beginning. That same quiet thrill returned a few days later during a walk through Karrgatup &mdash; the Noongar name for Kings Park and Mt Eliza &mdash; with Walter McGuire, a proud Nyungar man and the co-founder of Go Cultural Aboriginal Tours. For 90 minutes, we wandered beneath eucalyptus canopies and among native wildflowers, the Perth skyline shimmering just beyond the trees. The air was crisp, the stories richer. With each step, Walter&rsquo;s warm smile flickered like sunlight through the leaves, and at every pause, he offered another remarkable detail about the land&rsquo;s geology, rare biodiversity and sacred past.

(Image credit: Toursim Western Australia)

&ldquo;Everyone is blessed with a totem,&rdquo; he told me and the rest of the delegates from Malaysia and Singapore, gesturing toward images of animals and plants that symbolise ancestral spirits. These totems, he explained, are not just symbols, they&rsquo;re spiritual compasses. They tether people to the Dreaming, to the land and their community. They shape identity, define responsibility and guide the balance between consumption and conservation.
His words stirred something in me. I found myself thinking about the belief systems I grew up with &mdash; those quiet, often unspoken ideas that if you honour the earth, it returns the favour. Blessings for kindness. Harmony through respect. My thoughts swirled, not unlike the breeze around us. Another kind of journey was unfolding &mdash; <a href="https://www.hommesmalaysia.com/personalities/malaysian-independent-designers-interrogating-cultural-identity">just as majestic, just as rooted in the land beneath my feet</a>.

An hour later, I found myself zipping through Perth&rsquo;s city centre in the most unexpected way: on a rickshaw. The team at Peddle Perth knew how to make an entrance, and a city tour feel like a moving party. In just 90 minutes, we breezed past iconic spots like The Bell Tower, Elizabeth Quay, His Majesty&rsquo;s Theatre and Hay Street Mall. At the southeast corner of the Old Treasury building, we paused at Point Zero, the marker that denotes the civic heart of Perth. A small, easy-to-miss detail with big symbolic weight: this was ground zero, literally, for the city&rsquo;s sense of self. There&rsquo;s something undeniably breezy about Perth. The vibe strikes a balance between laid-back charm and polished cool &mdash; urban chic wrapped in natural beauty. It&rsquo;s a capital city that doesn&rsquo;t feel the need to shout.

That energy carries into Ginza Nana Alley, Australia&rsquo;s first Yokocho &mdash; a lantern-lit laneway that feels straight out of Tokyo&rsquo;s backstreets. You don&rsquo;t expect to stumble upon an immersive Japanese food precinct in the middle of WA, but then again, as one local put it, &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be hard-pressed to find an Aussie who doesn&rsquo;t love Japanese food.&rdquo; The venues here are small, intimate and impeccably styled. The menus? Fresh, authentic and surprisingly bold. The crown jewel is Ginza Midai, a 12-seat, reservation-only oden kappo led by chef Midai Hatakeyama. To call oden a Japanese hot pot barely does it justice. Think slow-simmered daikon and seasonal ingredients in a delicate, deeply flavoured broth &mdash; comfort food elevated to an art form. And in the crisp evening chill of a Perth autumn? It hits differently. <a href="https://www.hommesmalaysia.com/arts-culture-and-lifestyle/all-lux-out-a-luxury-travel-experience-in-western-australia">Absolutely worth the detour.</a>

There&rsquo;s an old saying: when you travel, you&rsquo;re either a vacationer or a traveller. The vacationer seeks rest, comfort and a well-earned exhale. The traveller? They&rsquo;re chasing something &mdash; curiosity, connection, a thrill. While I&rsquo;ve been known to indulge in the occasional coffee day or rooftop bar cocktail, my soul tends to gravitate toward adrenaline. This is how I found myself wide awake at 3 a.m., lacing up my Nike shoes for a sunrise hot air balloon ride with Liberty Balloon Flights over Avon Valley. That pre-dawn wake-up call was its own kind of challenge. But by the time our pilot lifted us to 915 metres above the fields of Western Australia, every ounce of grogginess had vanished. As the balloon rose, so did my pulse. Butterflies danced in my stomach, each metre climbed adding to the surreal sense of wonder. And then&mdash;stillness. Just the gentle drift of wind, the burn of the flame and the sky blushing with sunrise hues. Below, the Avon River snaked through farmlands, its curves catching morning light like a ribbon of gold.

(Image credit: Liberty Balloon Flights)

When we landed, deflating the balloon was part ritual, part workout. But no one complained. We&rsquo;d floated above gravity, above routine, above the everyday &mdash; and that kind of collective awe leaves a mark. It left me energised, inspired and ready for the next chapter. Because if there&rsquo;s one thing I know now, it&rsquo;s that Western Australia isn&rsquo;t done with me yet.

Hot air balloons and soul-searching in Western Australia

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