Doctors For Nutrition

The weekend after we moved—second weekend of November—I escaped the nightmare of our new rental (see previous post) for a work trip to Adelaide.

After a bay swim on Friday morning, I caught the SkyBus to the airport—the best way to get there from our new place. My early afternoon flight was quick and easy. South Australia is 30 minutes behind Victoria, which continues to puzzle me. From the airport, I took a bus into the city and checked into my hotel. After a quick sandwich from Via Vai, I was ready to explore.

 

I’d visited Adelaide briefly with my parents last year, but it still feels new. The city is compact and walkable. I strolled through the Botanic Gardens and noticed the purple jacaranda trees had already come and gone in the warmer climate. Despite Adelaide’s reputation for sunshine, the weekend felt more like Melbourne—cool and gray, but still full of that late-spring magic.

 

That evening I joined my work team for dinner at Phonatic. It was my first time meeting them in person—our small crew is scattered across Australia and New Zealand, and we work remotely.

Back in April, I shifted to four days a week at Animal-Free Science Advocacy so I could take on a one-day-a-week role with Doctors For Nutrition (DFN), an Australian non-profit promoting a whole food plant-based diet to prevent and manage chronic disease. Landing that job still feels surreal. My vegan journey began in 2016 for health reasons—drawn in by the science and simplicity of plant-based nutrition. I’ve grown much since then, both as a vegan and as an advocate, but health remains a big part of my values. Joining DFN—even in a role I’d never done before—felt perfectly aligned.

Photos by Liza Savchuk

Saturday was the big day: DFN’s Nutrition & Lifestyle Medicine Symposium, held at the Adelaide Health and Medical Sciences Building. As Fundraising Officer, my main contribution was securing sponsorships, with our primary supporter being Mushroom Health Science Australia. 

The day flew by. Excellent speakers, fantastic sponsors and exhibitors, a healthy lunch, and a room full of like-minded people—it was one of those events that leaves you buzzing in the best way.

Afterwards, a small group of us went to an invite-only dinner at Veggie Vie. By some good fortune, I ended up sitting next to our keynote speaker, Drew Harrisberg—a young plant-based exercise physiologist living well with type 1 diabetes.

 

I first discovered Drew on the Rich Roll Podcast. For those who don’t know, Rich Roll is my all-time hero and role model. He was one of my earliest vegan inspirations when I was just starting out on this journey. His story—plants, endurance sports, a career pivot—resonated with me deeply. On the podcast, his long-form conversations are incredibly thoughtful and present, and he chooses guests with genuinely compelling stories. He's a true lighthouse—radiating calm, steady influence rather than shouting to be heard.

So when I confessed to Drew my low-key obsession with Rich, he asked if I wanted to send him a message. Next thing I know, Drew is filming a video of me! I'd dreamt about this moment for years, and yet, despite the adrenaline, I was completely incoherent—babbling something like “I’m your biggest fan” and “I was your first fan,” which is… mortifying. Someday I hope to meet Rich in person and redeem myself. Until then, I can cling to the tiny, glowing fact that my chaotic fangirl moment may have briefly appeared on Rich Roll’s phone.

 

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Between the high of the conference, the stress of the move, and the emotional aftermath of the Rich Roll incident, my mind was racing.

Still, I rallied the next morning and took a quiet walk along the river. In Botanic Park, I passed a large colony of flying-foxes—just like the bats in Melbourne's Yarra Bend Park.

Eventually, I grabbed my duffel from the hotel and caught the bus back to the airport. Exhausted, but grateful and inspired. It was the break I needed—both from the chaos at home and to remind myself why this work matters so much.

From Abbotsford to Brighton

After more than three months of hunting for a new rental, Tom and I finally got the call: our application for a beautiful bayside house had been accepted. We were thrilled—and a bit anxious. Moving is always stressful: there are so many details, unexpected costs, and the sentimental tug. I knew I would miss Abbotsford—our house, the vibe, Yarra Bend Park, and the Park Hotel. Our first two years in Australia felt deeply rooted in that neighborhood. Still, we wanted to downsize, save money, and get to know another part of the city.

Our new place is about 12 km (7.5 miles) south, in the northwest corner of Brighton. 

 

It’s an affluent, bayside suburb that is close to the beach and less compact than the inner north.

I picked up the keys on Friday (Halloween, as it turned out) and the property manager proudly assured me the house was in “pristine condition.” I went over to start the condition report and, when I opened the front door, I was immediately hit by a strong smell of pet urine.

Turns out the owner had two small dogs and there were large, untreated urine stains soaked into the hardwood in the living area. I wasn’t sure what to do: movers were booked for the next morning. When I told Tom, he promised that we’d figure it out.

Saturday was the big day. I drove the cats down first thing and set them up in the bathroom; thankfully, they adjusted quickly. The movers were efficient—all of our belongings were moved in two trucks in two hours.

Tom confirmed the odor and we reported it right away. The property manager was initially cagey and dismissive—at one point suggesting I mop the floors and buy candles—but eventually she admitted there was a problem and contacted the owner. Fortunately, the owner agreed to replace the affected floorboards, but the soonest it could happen was a month after we’d moved in.

 

Normally I try to keep this blog pretty light-hearted, but I want to be honest: those first two weeks were really hard. After the emotional and logistical slog of moving, I was ready to make the new place ours—clean, unpacked, settled. Instead, we were stuck in limbo: uncertain whether we’d be able to (or want to) stay. The odor was strongest in the living area, where we spend most of our free time and keep most of our furniture—so we couldn't unpack properly.

The next hurdle will be navigating the renovation at the end of November. The contractor said the job could be done in one day, but that one day involves squeezing our living-room furniture into the rest of our small home, covering everything in plastic to prevent the sanding from getting everywhere, and figuring out what to do with the cats and where to work—all for a problem we didn’t create. There's also no guarantee the work will fully fix the issue. While most stains and odor are concentrated in the living room, there are other yellow stains that suggest accidents had happened elsewhere too.

 

The weather hasn't helped—it’s been wet and cool—and that makes everything feel heavier. I've had trouble sleeping, felt low on energy, and carried a steady dose of anxiety. I know, rationally, that this is a small blip in the grand scheme of things, but it feels significant right now.

Still, the house has so much potential if we can get this sorted, and there are small things that are keeping me grounded: focusing on work and checking out the local cycling routes and outdoor pools. I've also returned to ocean swimming, which is now warming up and much more accessible from our new house.

 

Happily, there's some big news back home: my sister Rita had a baby! Welcome to the world, Arden Josef. That tiny human is a beautiful reminder that even amid chaos, life keeps delivering lovely surprises.