In my early teens I used to go and work on my cousin David's farm on the Canterbury Plains in New Zealand below the Southern Alps. I earned some pocket money by going out on the sheep farm and helping him, and while we would be going out in his ute ripping around the farm on the old shingle roads he would play classical music. I'd say, "Why have we got this music on?" And he'd say, "One day you'll appreciate this music." I had no interest in the concept of classical music, and that one comment had a profound effect on me.
At about 20 years of age, I toured with the New Zealand Youth Choir in Britain and Europe for five weeks. We sang in cathedrals and monasteries from Ely to Budapest in both Catholic and Anglican, revered places with an incredible aura about them, and since then, I see these buildings in a different way. A more profound love of music developed during this time. Ely Cathedral in Cambridgeshire stands out as an extraordinary memory. I was awestruck by the incredible stained-glass windows, and being immersed in those environments as a youngster singing with the choral choir – it was something that I felt privileged to have experienced and a memory I treasure.
I travelled with seven of my friends backpacking to Egypt and visited the pyramids, went diving in the Red Sea for a week, and stayed in Cairo. Fortunately we had an Egyptian friend with us whose family lived in Cairo. Egypt had a profound effect on me. Seeing what hundreds of millions of people built more than 5000 years ago and the way they lived their lives, hearing their stories, made me realise how young we are here. It's incredible to think that what they built still stands today.
The first opera that I performed outside New Zealand was at the Sydney Opera House in August 1998 – La Cenerentola by Rossini (in English Cinderella). It changed me and had a profound effect on the direction of my life. It was the most surreal experience, having come from being an accountant in New Zealand six weeks prior to be standing backstage at the Sydney Opera House and to be part of a major production with Opera Australia. Thankfully, the chorus friends gave me strength to give the performance of my life.
On a road trip through America, we arrived at the Grand Canyon and stood on the edge. What happened to me was extraordinary – we were the only people standing there that day and I got to realise what people mean when they say to "have your breath taken away". That is where my breath was taken away – looking out across the canyon, standing in sunshine, its vastness and magnitude was just incredible.