The iconic Sydney Opera House is 50 . Why do I care? This.

Hearing of the anniversary on the radio as I drove back from my morning swim, I was momentarily transported back to a weekend in March 2016 during the best eight weeks of my life travelling solo up the East coast of Australia in my late daughter Gabi's memory. A promise we would do it together, instead kept with her rabbit, Fudge to remind me she was doing it with me in Spirit instead. Every place, every animal, every person, every view I had promised. I did it for her because I could no longer do it with her.

I will never forget that Saturday night in Sydney during my last week on the other side of the world. It was the anniversary of my late husband's death, which felt poignant as he had spent a year in Australia after leaving university. I walked 50 minutes from my Air BnB to take my pre-booked final tour of the day up into the sails of Danish architectural genius Jorn Utzon's "8th wonder of the world".

His vision, creativity, the 'impossible' engineering innovations, soaring cost over-runs ending at 1400% over budget, political shenanigans, male egos- Jorn finally storming off the site, never seeing it finished in person, not even being invited to the opening ceremony by our own late Queen- was the jaw-dropping stuff of soap operas to our group of ten nationalities.

Photographing the angles I wanted proved tricky in the limited space on the roof, so I waited until the others had moved inside- and got locked out on the roof unnoticed for ten minutes until a staff member chanced by, when a one-way door slammed shut, while the others enjoyed a tour of the Grand Auditorium!

Half an hour and a bite to eat in the restaurant later and I was queueing for the only available show, the Barber of Seville. I don't even like opera over-much, but I wanted that experience and the only tickets left were a zillion pounds. I begged to be let into the restricted view latecomers box right up in the Gods. Staff at first refused, but I adopted my most pleading expression and with under a minute till curtain up, they relented.

It was magnificent. I laughed, I cried, and at the interval left alone in the highest box unattended, the usher insisted I move somewhere safer- and put me in the best seats in the house which no-one had turned up to claim. Right in the centre of the circle’s front row. The zillion quid seats. She said "I could see you were enjoying it so much, I wanted you to have this seat." Wow.

Mingling with the global opera-goers on the steps afterwards, watching the lights play over the sails and the Sydney Harbour Bridge below a star-studded sky, then walking alone feeling safe, empowered, strong, adventurous, free, all the way back around the harbour at midnight was a feeling I will never forget.

Thinking about Jorn Utzon's talent, vision, tenacity, fearlessness into despair, disappointment, ridicule and ultimate restoration, redemption and forgiveness for those who decried him are lessons I will also never forget.

So HAPPY 50th SYDNEY OPERA HOUSE. I have not forgotten you or what you represented to me. My own redemption from despair and hopelessness.

If you'd like to know how my journey celebrated Gabi's life on the other side of the world, you can read more of my story here: https://www.travelzoo.com/.../heroes-of-solo-travel-the.../

And I can't go without a shout-out to these lovelies. One person poured heart and soul - and weeks of her life- into arranging my travel itinerary, my dear friend Allison Butler who had emigrated to the Sydney area over a decade before. And my amazing team who made the journey possible by care-taking my business while I was away.

My cousin Hannah who said don't just do the opera house tour- go to the opera too! And my amazing beloved son Zach who believed I had the resilience and courage to live Gabi's dream solo, and was waiting at the station with a returning heroes hug.

Thank you all.

On hearing Sydney Opera House was 50...