Steve Bisley: The places that changed me

THE RED CENTRE AND BEYOND

I drove from Sydney to Broome a few years ago; crossed a thousand kilometres of dirt road through the Tanami Desert from Alice Springs to Halls Creek. Slept in my swag in the middle of the nothing, in the centre of the centre, the rim of the earth visible for a full 360 degrees, under a riot of bright stars. I woke to the early dawn which cut the horizon like a scythe, watched the early light wash across the landscape, until the world came back into sharp focus, made tea in a billy over a low fire, and wanted for nothing more than this. Do it.

ITALY

Italy: food, wine, family, laughter and love, in whatever order you fancy. I love the casual elegance of the place and the people; they wring the most of life from every moment … and who doesn't love a siesta? If I had to pick a favourite place in this remarkable country, it would be the Amalfi coast, Positano. Visually stunning, blood-warm water, wine with ripe pieces of peach floating in the glass. This one memorable night, on a dory with singers from La Scala, one of the sopranos sang my girlfriend's favourite song, Summertime, unaccompanied. Heaven can wait. And they have limoncello.

CROWN HEIGHTS, UTICA

I took my two youngest kids to New York, booked an Airbnb away from the madness of Manhattan and the fashionable hipster hub of Brooklyn. We headed west on the D train, alighted into the guts of Crown Heights, just short of Flatbush. Found our rented digs, surrounded by our neighbours, Afro-Caribbean, Afro-American, and a sprinkle of Hasidic Jews. New York drew us to its heart like an absent mother. Coming back from the Guggenheim, the Met, Central Park, or Bloomingdale's to be met by the sounds of steel drums, smells of ganja, fried chicken, and the riot of bright colours everywhere, was pure joy. For the briefest of time, we were the minority. And isn't that what we're all looking for?

JAPAN

I first went to Japan in the '80s. I was performing in a Japanese-Australian co-production. We shot in Toho studios where the legendary Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa had made many of his films, the stuff of cinematic legend. My make-up artist, Mr Suzuki, informed me one day that the scene I was about to shoot had been delayed. He suggested I have a bath. Toho had a bathhouse. I was given a light robe, some slip-on plastic shoes, and directions to the bathhouse through the maze of interconnecting corridors. The "bath" was about the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Steam rose like airy tendrils from its surface. It was quite shallow, which allowed me to sit comfortably, with the water lapping across my chest. At one end of the bath was a huge window, outside, the snow was falling on a perfectly framed fir tree. Of course it was. For me, that is the essence of Japan.

Steve Bisley's All the Burning Bridges – a memoir (Echo, $32.99), is out now. See echopublishing.com.au