I met Dat in San Francisco in 2015. I had left a tourism consulting role in China and moved to the US to start my own Mongolian vodka product. Dat was a specialised nurse. He loved being a nurse.
They say opposites attract and I think that rings true for us. He had this way of calming a room. Dat would arrive at a party and somehow the volume in the room would come down a little bit. He did the same with me. It was a very busy time trying to build my business but he was always there – very supportive and curious about what I was doing. We moved quite quickly into the relationship and spent a lot of time together.
In 2018, we made a decision to leave the US. When Trump got elected, America started changing quickly and it made it harder to commit to my business. We said: let’s try Australia. I’m originally from Perth but Dat was born in Vietnam and had never been to Australia before. We just got on a plane and left.
In Australia, we ended up taking over the Broadwater resort in Busselton. When Covid hit, we worked and lived together 24/7. A lot of relationships probably wouldn’t survive that. I don’t really know how to explain it, it just worked.
In 2023, after five intense years at the resort, we decided we needed a proper break. I wanted to buy a catamaran and sail around the world but Dat couldn’t swim, so we landed on another challenge: a cycling tour from Venice to Athens. We didn’t really know what we were getting ourselves into.
When we started training, Dat didn’t know how to ride. On our first proper outing he rode through gravel on an angle and fell off within minutes. I thought: “Oh, that’s it. It’s never going to happen.” Instead, he blamed me for not telling him that would happen, cheekily asked for $5 to get back on, then finished the ride – a good 40km or so.
We did the Venice-to-Athens ride as part of a small tour. It was amazing but extremely challenging. One day in Albania it was 37C, we had about 130km to ride and the wind was in our faces. We were hot, dirty and running out of water but Dat didn’t complain. We were some of the only riders who finished that day. That’s one of Dat’s strengths: once he’s made up his mind, he’s going to do something, no matter how hard it is.
After our ride, we stopped in Hokkaido, Japan, on the way home. It was intentionally the opposite of our bike ride: we moved very, very slowly – just wandering, checking out onsens and restaurants. One afternoon in Sapporo, we ended up at Whisky Bar Tasokare, a tiny, dimly lit six-seat bar. We were the only customers.
Over a Kanosuke single malt and a whisky cocktail, we started talking about the trip, replaying everything we’d been through – we rode over 2,500km. It was a real test but we got through it without arguments. If we wanted to swear, we swore at the hills, not each other!
Somewhere, during those drinks, it clicked that after riding thousands of kilometres, navigating foreign countries and spending basically every waking hour together, marriage probably wouldn’t be the hardest thing we’d do.
There wasn’t a big proposal, just a decision we made. I think we were both relieved it was so easy, and delighted to have found the next thing to do together. We embraced and told Ms Maki (the bar owner), who was thrilled.
We got married in 2024 at the Broadwater down by the beach, with family and friends who flew in from all over the world. My son, Travis, was our celebrant. Then, during the ceremony, Dat surprised me: he said he was taking my surname, so he could share a name with Travis. I thought that was beautiful. There were lots of tears and a big party with a drag queen.
Being married feels more grounded and real, like we’re even more of a team. We stepped away from the day-to-day at the Broadwater about a year ago and now live in Cottesloe with our rescue dog, Harvey. Cycling is still a really big part of our lives. We’ve done rides in Norway, France and Australia. Through it all, we’ve always had each other’s backs.