From Tokyo backstreets to quiet coastal towns and off-grid cabins, top executives reveal where they holiday and why stepping away makes the grind worthwhile.
5 min
Months of running between meetings and breaking down the working week into 30-minute increments to get through a long list of tasks takes its toll on the most astute business leader.
So, Kanebridge News asked corporate high-flyers where they holiday and how they value their time, which revealed a fascinating insight into not just what makes them tick.
Many told stories of time away from the hustle, spent exploring the dark corners of Tokyo, the beaches of Bali and off-grid tiny homes with loved ones.
They agreed that taking a well-earned break from rigid scheduling and being ruled by a calendar in a high-pressure environment makes the hustle worthwhile.
High-profile Sydney leadership trainer Karlie Cremin leaves the city behind for a break by the beach with her husband and three children, all under 10 years of age.
Having school-aged kids means she’s tethered to the school holiday period for her breaks, but the CEO of leadership program firm Crestcom makes the most of it, driving north of Sydney to the Central Coast for a two-week break at the end of each year at Pearl Beach.
“We love the area because no one goes there, and yet it’s magical. It’s this little oasis away from the traffic jams, which gives us something to look forward to.”
The family hires the same house every year, located within walking distance of the local beach, where they hang out during the day.
“The kids arrive at the holiday house and know where everything is and how to get around. They love the familiarity of hiring the same house every year.”
Karlie loves a bite at nearby eatery Bells at Killcare while in town, which is booked in advance.
“There’s nothing much at Pearl Beach, which is how we like it. Mostly, we barbecue out back, serve salads, and keep it really simple. We enjoy not having complicated dinners when we’re on a break,” Cremin says.
While she would love to completely switch off, the reality is that she does need to be available for work.
“There are some tasks that only I can do in the organisation, but I tend to handle those things that pop up once the kids are in bed, so it doesn’t interfere with family time.”
Running the largest global franchise pool service brand as it continues on a strong growth trajectory is a big job for Nic Brill, who stepped into the global CEO role late last year. (SUBS 2025)
He admits that leading a service business of scale requires clear thinking, good judgement and sustained energy.
“I’m at my best when I’ve had time to step back and reset, so I view downtime as a strategic necessity.”
The company works hard to create environments that elevate people’s quality of life at home.
“We also take a few international breaks throughout the year. For me, the ideal holiday is somewhere warm, relaxed and close to the water.”
“Time is one of those things you can’t manufacture, so I’m very deliberate about how I use it. When I’m taking a break, I try to protect it so I can be present with my family and properly recharge. At the same time, I lead a large franchise network, and I’m always mindful of my responsibility to our people.
Small townships dotted along the northern NSW coastline has become a favourite, where he goes to switch off, spend time with family.
“I’m happiest when the days are simple – time by the pool or ocean, good meals and a chance to slow down and reconnect.
“I also like to keep active, whether that’s swimming, getting out for a run or exploring somewhere new,” Brill says.
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But when he’s away from the daily grind, Brad likes to book flights to somewhere in Asia, which has emerged as a favourite holiday spot for him and his family. Malaysia, Thailand and Bali are popular spots.
He also recalls a great holiday in Tokyo’s Shinjuku Golden Gai, a collection of mismatched, tumbledown bars lining a darkened corner of the city.
While adventure holidays were a favourite in years gone by, that’s not so much the case these days as a family man. He often spends time trying local cuisine, wandering through retail areas and seeing the local sights, which are his favourite.
Holidays across Australia are also a favourite. “When I’m away, the out of office is on, and the team know that if they need me, they need to call or text me. I’m not contactable on email when I’m on a break, which means I’m not buried in my inbox while I’m away. Keeping yourself off the emails or Slack or whatever it is gives you that distance from work that enables you to take a good break.”
He also likes to take a break by himself occasionally to recharge. “I try to take all my leave each year, because it helps me be better when I’m at work.”
Brad has taken a few breaks at an Unyoked Cabin, an off-the-grid cabin in a remote area, both alone and with his daughter.
Quick little nature getaways that mean you’re completely disconnected are the best. And I never finish a holiday without having booked your next one,” he admits.
Spending his working days at the helm of a Perth-based wealth management and financial planning firm is where Justin Gilmour belongs.
But when he’s on a break, he prefers to get in the car rather than a plane, driving to the regional area of Yallingup in the southwest of Western Australia in the Margaret River region.
He loves to slow down and enjoy warm, sunny days and gentle coastal breezes when relaxing. “The beaches in the south-west are world-class, offering pristine sands and crystal clear waters that rival any international destination. For me, there’s simply nowhere better to unwind and recharge than this spectacular corner of the country.”
His break is spent with his wife and kids, but he admits half of Perth heads up to Yallingup as well.
“We’re always bumping into people (and even clients) that we know. But spending time in Yallingup allows me to slow down and enjoy the simple pleasure of life with my family.”
He prefers not to stay in touch with the office too much while he’s down there, using the time to reset and recharge, but does chat to clients when he bumps into them.
“I think it’s important to have that period of clear headspace and take a step back and look at the bigger picture, both in terms of my personal life and for the business. A daily swim is certainly a must when I’m down there.”
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Randy Boyagoda’s new novel, “Lords of Serendipity,” delivers a biting satire of cheating, politics and dysfunction across modern universities.
5 min
Administrative cowardice. Rampant cheating. The soaking and scamming of undergrads and grad students. Performative wokeism. Intensifying competition for international tuition dollars from an expansive China.
These are either the latest dire headlines about American higher ed or the myriad subplots of “Lords of Serendipity,” an ambitious new novel by Randy Boyagoda. Unlike most campus fiction, its scope extends well beyond the cloister of the liberal arts classroom to whammy the entire university system, from its financial model to its function within a globalized economy. Along the way, it skewers its lightning-rod targets with a precision too sharp to be considered entirely fictional.
That its author is not only well-versed in satire, having written four other novels in the genre, but is also a professor of English at the University of Toronto and an experienced college administrator, further blurs the lines between comic fiction and brutal fact. It’s the kind of no-holds-barred book only a consummate insider would know to write—but only one who is also conveniently outside the American university system could get away with writing.
“This is someone who’s got the inside dope on what can go on at universities, especially with international students, and what kind of con games are going on,” said Margaret Atwood, a friend and fellow Torontonian.
The novel, like Boyagoda himself, is often very funny—even as the dilemmas its characters face read as tragedy. Its cast includes the bickering members of a Sri Lankan hotel cleaner’s family, insecure American freshmen, dead-end third-tier college professors and their highflying Ivy League counterparts and dispirited university functionaries. An old-fashioned Dickensian tale, it sweeps across continents and campuses, from a classic liberal-arts college to a stand-in for Harvard University to an urban technical school to the dilapidated buildings of a state-run university in Sri Lanka.
“I’m a joyful person,” Boyagoda said in an interview, though he prefers to see his outlook on academia as “hopeful” rather than optimistic. He smiles and laughs frequently. He bikes everywhere. He derives energy from his students and from his four daughters, ages 14 to 20. They help him and his American wife, Anna, also an educator, care for Boyagoda’s father, an immigrant from Sri Lanka who has dementia and lives with the family.
The germ of the novel came to Boyagoda during the pandemic, when he was serving as a vice-dean. An urban legend was circulating about a statistics grad student selling passing grades to international students. The cheating scheme itself may well have been apocryphal, but it felt tantalizingly plausible.
“As a novelist, it stayed with me,” Boyagoda said. “Who would sell grades for a stats course? Why would someone buy grades? What’s motivating them? Why wouldn’t the university be doing something about it?” What he didn’t want to do, he explained, was write “another novel about a creative writing professor and his drama with students.”
In addition to writing novels—the first of which was a finalist for Canada’s prestigious Giller Prize; he’s written eight books in total—Boyagoda teaches literature full-time. For his students next semester, kids raised in a purportedly “post-literature era,” he’s assigning three 700-page novels, he noted mischievously, books by George Eliot, Ralph Ellison and Kiran Desai.
On RateMyProfessors, students remark on Boyagoda’s heavy assignments, tough grading and distaste for cellphones, but also hail his “comedy.” When alerted to these reviews, Boyagoda laughed. “Guilty as charged,” he said.
“Randy’s one of those people in academia who is very well educated but doesn’t have an ounce of superiority about him,” said John Irving, who frequently guest lectures in Boyagoda’s classroom. “It’s amazing to see how willing students are to talk in his classrooms, how little afraid they feel of being mocked or put down—he gets complete candor out of them.”
Negotiating competing interests seems to come naturally to him. Like many college campuses, after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel, the University of Toronto was embroiled in protests, encampments and discord; part of the school’s response was to convene a working group on civil discourse. Boyagoda was put in charge, serving for two years. It’s the kind of thankless task many professors would flee from, but Boyagoda relished the prospect and thinks the group, which is ongoing, made progress.
He has since pivoted to another formidable academic concern: the waning prestige of the humanities. In July, Boyagoda became the director of the Jackman Humanities Institute and special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science. This fall, he is starting a series of gatherings he calls the Dead Book Club. (Dead writers feature heavily among his favorites: St. Augustine, Dante, William Faulkner, Evelyn Waugh, Saul Bellow.)
“The goal is to encourage students to read for its own sake and have conversation for its own sake,” Boyagoda said. “The importance of the humanities will be revealed to those who participate.”
“Lords of Serendipity,” which publishes next week, reflects Boyagoda’s commitment to the pursuit of knowledge: “I’m supposed to say I learn more from my students than they do from me, but no,” Boyagoda said. “I enjoy sharing my excitement and joy about literature and ideas. There are these moments when you are teaching and you can see someone’s face change because they didn’t know something and then they did. That moment when you’re actually watch someone enlarge themselves is deeply satisfying.”
In literary circles, Boyagoda is often referred to as a Catholic novelist, a description he embraces. “A novelist willing to give shape and voice to contemporary religious experience is needed,” Boyagoda said. “I understand myself as a Catholic novelist, provided that I’m not only a Catholic novelist, I’m also a South Asian novelist and I’m a Canadian novelist. I don’t want to be captive to one label.”
His characters, he said, are subjected to what he calls “Graham Greene character situations.”
“They are trying to do good in a fallen world and realize the most they can do is less harm than someone else would do in that same role,” he explained. “They have to accept they are complicit in something that provides some good thing to others. It’s a very Graham Greene way of thinking about sacrifice.”
The campus green they inhabit is a febrile zone in which lofty ideals and cynicism regularly collide. It’s a place where a traditional holiday college celebration is now an occasion for political protest. Kids freely police one another inside and out of the classroom with social media their constant, ready weapon of choice. International students, knowing their family’s financial futures hinge on their degrees, operate in terror of failure and deportation.
Early readers of the book include Gary Shteyngart and Junot Diaz, both of whom have taught at universities and written comic novels. They each contacted Boyagoda midway through to say, in essence, “You nailed it.”
As biting as “Lords of Serendipity” can be, Boyagoda’s faith in higher education remains undaunted.
“It’s absurd that we live in societies that make the decision to take people between the ages of 18 and 22, when they are most physically capable of contributing to our nations and communities, and tell them, ‘Go away for four years, and read and learn and have conversations,’” he said. “I want students to be aware of what an incredible privilege that is.”
Corrections & Amplifications
Randy Boyagoda is a special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science at the University of Toronto. An earlier version of this article incorrectly said he is a special adviser to the dean of humanities. (Corrected on Sept. 2)
