New sights, yet familiar smell of days gone by.
A little stroll down the road brought back the youthful day when Ater, the bunches and I used to roam up and down Queen Street of Auckland doing nothing together. Popped in to a local bakery, I realized I am once again back on familiar turf. Reminded me of that quaint nondescript bakery back in Cambridge where Poy and I got our first of many sourdough huge roll that we shared. Starting our very own love hate relationship with carbs, which she eventually ended while mine lasted for a good few years. A further walk down Lygon Street of Melbourne now in the hottest weather I’ve been so far this year, it’s only the eight of January anyway, the Italian cafes that everyone who’s been to the street was talking about. I was then suddenly transported to that moment when Nushkie and I sipped our very first carafe of fine, and cheap, French wine at the sidewalk cafe of Paris, misjudging completely how much of alcohol a carafe would actually contain. Oh and this old and creaky grad student housing? It really does remind me of the hostel I stayed in the night before I took GMAT in London. How fittingly so appropriate now that I am finally doing the long awaited MBA.
So I am in a new land, new city where I know not a soul but a few acquaintances here and there, but somehow everything feels, smells and tastes familiar. And I am grateful for every second of it.