I am nomad. Hear me roar.


Saturday, 26 November 2011

Locating Laurent

Melbourne for me has a routine. I have travelled there a few times in my life, spent maybe a week there at a time, maximum and had up to 5 year gaps in between. Generally this works pretty well for me, as it means I know my way around well enough to not get myself completely lost, but not well enough to remember exactly where everything is. Like my favourite Melbourne cafĂ© for example, I know that it is located somewhere in the vague mid section of the city, I know that it is kinda near a couple of arcades that I can almost recollect the names of, and I also know that it looks like the Gringotts building but with better posture.

As for the rest, it remains a mystery.

A treasure to be rediscovered, each and every time.

Just so, it has become my routine, that every time I touch down in Melbourne, be it via train, plane or once even by cruise ship, I allocate the hours at the beginning of my trip to locating Laurent. So habitual is my nature, that I even order the same Croque Mushroom, Soy Latte and Van Gogh Mousse Cake every single time, and every single time it is bliss.

Friday, 25 November 2011


At 4:30 this afternoon I was trying to work.

I really was trying to work.

I was also failing miserably.

A feeling had crept over me, you see, a feeling I have know for many years now, the sharp sting of anticipation, that precedes my every journey. A tingle over my skin, a chill, a readiness that makes my muscles tighten and taught, awaiting the plunge.

When I was younger, a lot younger, it was known to myself as "I'm-going-to-camp-today" feeling, it's very akin to "It's-Christmas-Day-today" feeling, and not at all conducive to getting any work done.

So, as of 4:30 today, I was totally failing at getting anything constructive done, and this is all because, tonight, I am going to Melbourne.