Airplanes and Seahorses

By John Baumgartner

Discover the inspiring true story of two people who dared to follow their dreams and found their own paradise. Life seemed perfect for the couple, living in a vibrant city, traveling the world, and earning great money. But deep down, they knew something was missing. When COVID-19 hit, they were forced to pause and reflect. Listening to their hearts, they made a bold decision to leave everything behind and embark on a journey to find fulfilment. Despite facing uncertainty and giving up financial security, they were determined to follow a path less travelled and make their dream a reality. With raw courage, trust, and a sprinkle of magic, they eventually discovered their own paradise. This book shows that when you let go of societal expectations and follow your heart, anything is possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035820634

John Baumgartner

John Baumgartner was born in Finland, raised in Sweden, and studied in the U.S. He then spent most of his adult- and work-life back in Sweden. At the age of 50, his career took him to Germany. At the age of 55, his heart took him, and his wife Anna, to Spain, where they now live. Prior to moving to Spain, John enjoyed a successful career in the Travel Retail business. Prior to moving to Spain, he had never worked in hospitality. John has two adult children who live in Stockholm and Sydney.

Book preview

Airplanes and Seahorses

John Baumgartner

Austin Macauley Publishers

Airplanes and Seahorses

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgement

31 December 2019

9 January 2020

5 February 2020

27 February 2020

28 February 2020

29 February 2020

5 March 2020

6 March 2020

7 March 2020

8 March 2020

9 March 2020

10 March 2020

13 March 2020

17 March 2020

21 March 2020

End of March-End of June 2020

19 June 2020

July—August 2021

8 August 2020

September 2020

18 September 2020

24 September 2020

30 October 2020

2 November 2020

4 November 2020

5 November 2020

6 November 2020

7 November 2020

8 November 2020

9 November 2020

12 November 2020

20 November 2020

25 December 2020

2 January 2021

14 January 2021

16 February 2021

11 March 2021

19 March 2021

16 March 2021

24 March 2021

8 April 2021

11 April 2021

25 April 2021

26 April 2021

27 April 2021

28 April 2021

30 April 2021

11 June 2021

11 June 2022

About the Author

John Baumgartner was born in Finland, raised in Sweden, and studied in the U.S. He then spent most of his adult- and work-life back in Sweden. At the age of 50, his career took him to Germany. At the age of 55, his heart took him, and his wife Anna, to Spain, where they now live.

Prior to moving to Spain, John enjoyed a successful career in the Travel Retail business.

Prior to moving to Spain, he had never worked in hospitality.

John has two adult children who live in Stockholm and Sydney.

Dedication

To my wife Anna – None of this would have been possible without you; you are the loving force that keeps me going. Life is so fantastic and fun with you! I love you.

To my children Albert and Anna – You have inspired and encouraged me to follow my heart and given me the freedom to do so. Thank you. I love you.

Copyright Information ©

John Baumgartner 2023

The right of John Baumgartner to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035820627 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035820634 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

Many fantastic people have contributed to this adventure, most of them without even knowing it. Thank you! Anna and I are so very fortunate to be

surrounded by you all.

31 December 2019

It was about 5:00 am, and the sun was rising far away in the horizon over the turquoise blue ocean. The waves were rolling in, gently, as if they were caressing the light brown sandy beach. Each wave painted the sand a little darker shade of brown, and as it rolled out again the sand returned to its lighter colour. Though the waves were small, they still caught our attention, awe, and respect with their crushing whisper as they approached the shore. The sound was soft but still loud enough to be heard some fifty meters away where we strolled on the sidewalk.

There was hardly any wind, and the temperature was already warm, about 24°c. The air was humid and smelled of seaweed and salty water. The long beach stretched before us. To the north, we could see the high rises of Surfers Paradise, and to the south, the rocky point just past the town of Coolangatta. Between these two points was a 25-kilometre-long white-sand, wide beach with a light-coloured concrete sidewalk following the shoreline, taking turns with the beach the whole way up and down. The beach was barren and clean, with only some driftwood here and there from the last storm. We knew the beach continued even further beyond these two points, but that was all we could see from where we were standing; a small piece of paradise called Currumbin Beach.

We had been in Australia for over a week, and we woke up early every day. At first, it was due to the jetlag. There was a nine-hour time difference between our home in Hamburg, Germany and Brisbane, Australia, where we had come to spend Christmas. We were by now over jetlag, but we still kept getting up early. We loved that time of the day when the sun was just rising, when there were not many people up yet and the beach and sidewalks were nearly empty, and when nature was wishing us good morning in the most beautiful of ways. Morning after morning, we continued to get up early and go down to the beach. It became routine, if one can talk about routines after only a few days into a three-week vacation.

So, on the last day of 2019, we rose early and took that 80-meter walk down from our rented apartment to the beach to greet the rising sun and to wish each other, and the Universe, a good morning. And a good morning it was indeed.

Had we known what was waiting for us that last morning of the year, we would have been better prepared. We would have brought some water, or at least some money to buy water or coffee when the small kiosks next to the sidewalks opened. But we had been on this same walk for days already and had not needed anything, so why would it be different now?

It was just going to be a walk, or maybe a slow jog. As we set out that morning, it didn’t feel any different. We expected it to be just as beautiful as each morning before.

However, there was magic in the air that morning, and it came upon us without us knowing it. As we walked south towards Coolangatta, we quickly passed the first bend of the sidewalk and then, without thinking, we passed the second and the third and we just kept going. We kept following that never-ending beach sidewalk and just kept walking.

Would it not be awesome to have a coffee shop on the beach here? Anna asked me. To live here in Currumbin, or in Tugin, or Coolangatta, in a small house and just have a nice life with good friends near, and focus on well-being, and spend more time in nature, on the beach, in the mountains, on the golf course? Cooking good healthy food, drinking good wines, barbecuing in the evenings, sitting outside as it gets dark, in a dress or in shorts and a t-shirt, and not only three days a year as we are used to in Hamburg?

There was humour in her voice, but I knew she was serious.

She continued with a big smile, We don’t need luxury, we don’t need a big house, we don’t need two big fast cars—especially since I don’t have a driver’s license—we don’t need to see another cool city in the world, eat another five-course Michelin dinner, sleep in another three-by-three-meter bed with linen sheets made by blind nuns, in a room on the fiftieth floor of another nine-star hotel. We just need each other, to be close to family, good friends, and good wine.

Sorry, love, I answered, but I don’t think a coffee shop would finance even a small house around here.

Of course, I had already checked. As always, when I came to a place that I liked, I found out the cost of living there. In fact, I had been to this area a few times before and loved it, so I knew the prices up and down the coast pretty well.

I continued gravely, Even a small house here, somewhere close to the beach, is a fair bit of money and not really within reach for us with the income from a coffee shop.

Anna frowned.

But I do work for a company that runs a business here, just around the corner at the Gold Coast airport. Maybe I could ask for a transfer from the office in Hamburg and get a job here? I could fill the shelves or sit at the cash register or do wine tastings in the shop—I think I would be very good at that—as long as they send me over with an Expat contract, so our housing is taken care of, I would be fine. But of course, you can’t come, because we are not married, so you couldn’t get a visa. But maybe you can visit from time to time?

Fuck off, Baumgartner, Anna laughed. There is no way in hell you can get rid of me. I own you. Besides, soon you are old and will be sipping green ice-tea from a straw, sitting in a lounge chair in the shade somewhere, listening to elevator versions of old Foreigner and Eagles hits, so you will need a young hot woman by your side. I will not feed you or nurse you, but your pride will be happy with me next to you, so you better just make sure I can get that visa as well.

We continued south, past the small towns of Tugin, Billinga, and Kirra Beach. We just kept walking and talking as we often did wherever we were. There was no mention of jogging, we were both happy to just walk and talk, hand in hand on this beautiful morning. Occasionally, we stopped for a short drink from the water fountains by the sidewalk, but other than that, we just continued enjoying our morning walk. We talked about coffee shops, about how wonderful a life by the beach would be, about more time outside, doing whatever. More sun, more blue skies, more warm weather.

We also talked about what a great life we already had, even though we did not live on the beach in Queensland, Australia. We were in good health, we had good and fun jobs that paid well and offered security, we lived in one of the best cities in the world, Hamburg, in a beautiful apartment in an old building that had survived the bombings of the second world war. We had many good friends near us, and we were not too far away from our families, though none of them lived in Hamburg, not even in Germany. Most of all, we had each other. Anna said it was the Universe that brought us together, but I think it was mainly the fact that I had gotten a great offer from the company I was working for and had moved to Hamburg four years earlier. Nevertheless, we were perfect for each other, and perfect together.

We came to a small grassy park by the beach with large, painted, concrete figures of Koala Bears for kids to play on. Anna got on top of them for a picture. At least, we had taken our mobile phones with us, for photos. I took some funny shots of Anna goofing off. Next to the park was a coffee shop and again I cursed the fact that we didn’t have any money with us.

As we continued south, I said to Anna, You know, what goes up must come down. Or, in this case, what goes south must go north. We have a bit of walk to get back to Currumbin.

I know, she replied, but let’s worry about that later. We were masters at adapting to new circumstances and we were always ready to do it again, whatever came around the next bend.

By now, there were more and more people out, joggers and walkers passing us by, also enjoying the early hours of that last day of the year. Everyone seemed in a good mood, greeting each other with a smile, a nod and cheerful good morning, and happy new year wishes.

After almost two hours of slow walking, we came to Coolangatta. The beach there was long and wide, with a famous surf spot at one end, breaking north from the point between Coolangatta and Tweed Heads. Every morning, we had seen the dawn patrol surfers in the water up and down the coast. This morning, due to the low waves and the poor surf, we had not seen them near Currumbin. But as we reached Coolangatta, there was a small break, and in Australia, where there was a break, there were surfers.

We watched them as we walked across the beach to the water. I bent down to feel it—it was warm and tasted salty. The waves swept up onto the beach and the sun sparkled in the water. I took off my shoes, socks, and t-shirt and got in the water. My shorts would dry quickly, I thought to myself, and it was Coolangatta Beach on the last day of the year. A dip had to be done, and so it was.

Anna, not the keenest swimmer in unknown waters or waves—in fact, not so keen even in known waters—took it easy and sat down on the beach while I played around in the water and waves for a few minutes.

After I got out of the water, we sat together on the rock wall that separated the beach from the sidewalk, people watching. I had good memories of this place. Some twenty years earlier, when my kids were young, in the very first hours of a new year, my ex-brother-in-law and I, had walked down to that very beach and skinny dipped in the dark, jumping into the shadowy waves that crushed the shoreline.

I laughed to myself, remembering that strange feeling of being totally naked in the warm dark night, and under the warm dark water and under the crushing waves—the waves adding a new dimension to the feeling of naked freedom in water.

Those many years ago, my then-wife Rita and the kids, Albert and Anna, had spent a couple of weeks in Coolangatta. Rita’s father owned a small business looking after an apartment complex down the road, and we had travelled to Coolangatta to spend Christmas and New Years with him and his wife. Rita’s brother had also come over from New Zealand with his family and we all had a great vacation.

After sitting on the rock wall for a while, waiting for my shorts to dry up, Anna and I continued walking around Coolangatta. The place had changed, but not too much. I saw a bottle shop that I recognized. When we were here to spend the Christmas holidays those many years ago, I had, without much hope, been looking for Swedish aquavit for the Christmas table; this was the obligatory drink to accompany pickled herring at Christmas and I wanted my father-in-law to have a go at the Swedish traditions. To my big surprise, I had indeed found Swedish aquavit, Skåne Akvavit, in the bottle shop and had been so happy. Remembering this now made me smile.

And, as Marty, Rita’s dad and my father-in-law, enjoyed his cognac, I remembered buying a bottle of Rémy as well. I think both the aquavit and the cognac had contributed, to a large extent, to our decision to go skinny dipping later that night.

The memories kept coming as we walked down the short street that led away from the beach. After about 500 meters, we came to the apartment complex that Marty had managed, a building in pale yellow, only a couple of stories high, with some balconies facing the street, and others facing the side and back. It was not a big building, maybe twenty apartments in total. Marty had lived in the first apartment to the left on the bottom floor, by the entrance to the building, with his wife Stephanie. Twenty years ago, on their porch, we had eaten many great dinners and drank many glasses of wine, and some glasses of aquavit and cognac, and laughed and enjoyed life.

Next to the building, we noticed the small swimming pool and more memories started popping into my mind of the kids, four or five years old back then, spending hours on end splashing in that pool. I had really admired Marty and Stephanie, having lived all their lives in New Zealand but then, at the age of fifty-five, had decided to go after their dream. They had sold all they had in New Zealand to move to Australia, to enjoy the sun, the weather, the beaches, the golf, the friends, the barbeques, and the wine, and just to have a better life, to live their dreams. Their move came with risks, losing a big portion of their savings, the sadness of moving far away from friends and family, of leaving familiar surroundings, of leaving their comfort zone. But they had done it and it had led them to start this business and to start their lives here in Australia. And they were living their dream. Good on them!

As we walked through Coolangatta, I told Anna some of the stories I remembered, the skinny dipping, the aquavit and cognac, how the kids met their cousins for the first time (Rita’s brother’s two kids who were about the same age as ours), and, of course, I talked about Marty and Stephanie and their adventure.

By now, Anna already knew Marty and Stephanie well. In fact, Marty and Stephanie were one of the reasons why we were in Australia as we had come to spend Christmas together with them. My ex-wife, Rita, had been generous and had suggested that we all (all being her new man Mathias, Rita’s and my two children, Albert and Anna, and myself and my new partner Anna) would celebrate Christmas together down-under with her father. As we now were walking past old memories, on the last day of the year, we had already enjoyed dinners together this last week and we were about to have a barbeque brunch with them once we got back to our apartment that morning. Later that night, we were all celebrating New Year’s Eve together.

So, Anna knew Marty and Stephanie, and she could therefore appreciate the town, the beach, the building, the walk, and the stories. We both thought it was a cool story to talk about, because it made us realise that there were people out there who not only talked, but actually did that kind of thing. Yes, Marty and Stephanie had done it. They were living their dream, and they were happier for it. And that was very inspiring to us, and it caused us to wonder what our big adventure was, and what we would do when we figured that out. Would we have the strength and guts as Marty and Stephanie had? Would we be true to our dreams?

We slowly started our ten-kilometre walk back to Currumbin. Aside from being a little thirsty—a problem easily fixed at the next drinking fountain—we were not suffering at all. Hand in hand, we started on our path north, talking about dreams, about how good life was, and about how happy we were with each other. Greeting passers-by with smiles, wishing them Happy New Year, and being excited about our future, we were loving it all. It was truly a great last morning of 2019.

The day started with a walk on the Currumbin Beach and ended with a Gatsby Party. Picture from left to right – John, Anna, Marty, Stephanie, Anna (daughter),

Rita and Mathias

9 January 2020

Ten days after that walk on the beach, we had seen much more of the Gold Coast and had immensely enjoyed it and had then flown down to Sydney for our last week in Australia. We had seen Elton John at the Olympic Stadium on his farewell tour and witnessed his donation of one million pounds to the firefighters working hard to keep New South Wales from burning up. We had been to many great, well-known restaurants and had loved the Australian modern cuisine. We had been to a few not-at-all-known, in fact, very secret but oh so cool, bars one could find only by having good directions. We had seen the Opera House, the Centennial Park and Bondi Beach, and so much more. Finally, before we got on a plane headed back to Hamburg, we had said a sad goodbye to a wonderful country, a wonderful city, and most of all to my wonderful and wild and wonderfully crazy daughter, Anna, who stayed in Australia to finish her theatre school education.

We would see her again in a few months when she had a school break in the middle of the European summer, but still, it was hard to hug her goodbye. As our plane lifted from the tarmac, I missed her already, but was very proud of what she was doing and what she stood for. She followed her own path and though it was not always the path others would have chosen, it was the path she knew was right for her. I admired her for that. We had had many talks about life in our past, some of them rather heated ones. I had shared my own experiences of life with her, and how and why I had made some of the big decisions, and hopefully helped her make the right decisions in her life. But I had also received advise and been influenced by her, and indirectly she was also teaching me to follow my heart, something I wanted to get better at.

5 February 2020

The doorbell rang in our apartment on the third floor, and I pressed the intercom to answer whoever stood downstair by the main door.

Hallo, ich bin Thomas Holst, und wir haben einen Termin um neun Uhr heute.

Ja, genau. Dritte Stock, willkommen, I replied.

I opened the door to the apartment and waited for the elevator to reach our level. We had no surnames on the door to the apartments in our building, so one had to help newcomers to find their way. The elevator stopped and out came a young, blond man with a big smile on his face.

I stretched out my hand for a handshake and before he started speaking, I opened the conversation.

Hallo Herr Holst, und noch mal, willkommen und Entschuldigung aber sprechen Sie ein bisschen English?

Oh yes, of course I do, Herr Holst replied, still smiling.

Good, I said. I can understand, and I can pretty much make myself understood in German, but if OK, I still prefer English. And I hope it is OK to go on first name bases?

I had lived in Germany for almost four years now, and the company I worked for had generously paid for a private language teacher all those four years, but I was not a language person, and I was still not fully comfortable communicating in German. I spoke three languages fluently, and now, German to the level where I could get by in everyday life and even understand most of the important meetings at work (some I had fooled, others not), so many thought of me as a language person. Wrong. The only reason I knew the three first languages—Finnish, Swedish and English—was that I had lived in these countries—Finland, Sweden, and the US—and had learned to speak the languages spoken there by just being around local people who in turn did not know any of the other languages I spoke. I had to learn their language to get by and did so by speaking to them daily.

Now I had learnt a little German. But I had been surrounded by Germans who spoke good English, and even wanted to speak English for their own sake, so most conversations quickly switched to English, thereby the incentive for me to learn German diminished and now, I was still not fluent. I probably never would be. I was quite happy to continue in English with Herr Holst.

Apart from the language, I was also not very comfortable addressing unknown people with the formal Sie or Herr or Frau or titles such as Doctor, and even the double Doctor Doctor, had this person had very few hobbies and friends and had studied to get 2 doctors titles. So, when possible, I usually offered (as it was called, and then the other party must accept), to switch to first names as soon as possible.

It was not always possible to know if this was appropriate as there were some unwritten rules one needed to understand about this topic when living in Germany and addressing unknown people. Obviously, one of the two having a conversation must go first and ask the other if it was acceptable to drop the tittles. But was it the older one who offers first, or the woman, or the one in higher rank, or the boss, or the one with the education?

After 4 years in Germany, I still was not sure how this all worked out. What happened when a female doctor around 50 years of age meets an older male who is retired, education and former title unknown? Who goes first? I got away with not following protocol most of the time, even when I may not have been the one who had the right-away to ask, being a little older (though 54 was no age to speak off), having a director title, and having a foreign accent. And mostly just by smiling when I asked. So also today with Herr Holst, we quickly were just John and Thomas.

Thomas’ visit was the result of many things coming together at the same time in early 2020. Anna and I lived in a fantastic apartment in Hamburg that I owned, and we knew it had increased in value the last few years, so both the quality of living and the value of the investment were good. We loved our apartment and the life in it, and in the neighbourhood.

But did we want to stay in this apartment for the rest of our lives? It was too big for us, and I did miss a garden and being able to listen to loud music or having a crayfish party without worrying about the neighbours.

An idea had grown with us. Maybe we could use the increased value of this apartment as a base to buy another apartment, a smaller one but more matching our future wants and needs? We could have both apartments for some years, still enjoy the increasing value in both, live in one, rent out the other one and have the rent income to keep paying off on loans until we would sell the bigger one, cash in and live happily ever after in the new one.

Also, 2019 had been a great year for us both professionally and there was no reason to believe 2020 would be any worse. If anything, the opposite. Without speaking about it out aloud or planning around it, we both believed our private incomes would increase and maybe some special bonuses would kick in as well. The mindset was full speed ahead and to keep investing to build on our capital.

We had even already found a new apartment to invest in. It was just being built on the west side of Hamburg and it was in the perfect location and had the perfect size, with the privacy we wanted but without sacrificing being close to friends and the city. We had met with the bank to understand how much more credit we could access, given our salaries and of course the current value of my current apartment. But the banks were as the banks always were, they wanted a verified valuation of our current apartment before they committed to anything more. Enter Thomas, whose fulltime job was to evaluate apartments and houses in the Hamburg area.

You have a beautiful apartment John, why would you ever want to sell this? Thomas asked.

I am not selling. We are getting it evaluated to have a good picture of our financial situation to perhaps invest into another apartment. The bank wanted a professional evaluation so that is why we called you.

Ah, ok. It is a good time to sell, or evaluate, housing now, apartments around here have increased a lot in value the last few years. You should be able to demonstrate a good case to the bank. Do you mind if I walk around a little and take some pictures of the rooms?

Of course not, go nuts. Do you want a coffee? I offered.

Thomas seemed like a nice guy, and I was always up for small talk with friendly people, so of course I offered a coffee. Thomas accepted and as he started to walk around the apartment taking notes and pictures, I fixed us a cup of coffee. A few minutes later he came back to the kitchen and asked some more questions about the apartment; when I had bought it, if there were any known problems, if there was a storage room in the cellar, etc. and we made small talk over the questions and the housing market in general in Hamburg.

It was not only my apartment that had increased in value; the whole market was crazy, said Thomas. The region was obviously doing very well, and this was reflected in the housing market. We were coming to the end of our coffees and as he was getting ready to leave, I asked him if he thought there was any reason to be worried about this new virus that seemed to be spreading not only in Asia, but now also in Europe. Thomas was not worried at all and therefore I was also not.

A couple days later the official evaluation, written by Herr Thomas Holst, came in the post and it was even better than I had dared to think about. What a lucky move it had been to buy this apartment only some two and half years earlier. This would be a great base for our investment in the other apartment. Anna and I sat at the kitchen table discussing the options we had in hand. We decided that given the evaluation of my current apartment, we would absolutely buy the other apartment; the question was only in which one we were to live in, and which one to rent out for the