" I'm a Leonard. Our family has this curse. It's kind of like Murphy's Law- things are always going to go wrong, before they come right. "

Twenty Something. Born and raised in Africa, lived in the sweltering summers of Melbourne, Australia, and then the freezing winters of Halifax, Canada. On the endless journey to find a place to call home again. Traveling the world, with nothing but the money in my pocket and an ice cold glass of wine. This is where I write travel advice, musings and the occasional angry vent. Feedback is always welcome. Drop me a line if you have any queries.

email: rogzleonard@gmail.com pinterest.com/prestikgremlin

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A Melbourne Memoir (Or a few things I miss about home)

While I don’t miss the awful Melbourne weather (anyone see the ridiculous heatwave they’re going through right now?) There are a lot of other things that make me homesick about Melbourne-

1. Degraves Street coffee.

2. Sitting on the park bench just below Fed Wharf, where all the joggers run and the yarra river flows, taking in the city sky line and summer weather.

3. The best poached eggs a breakfast girl could ask for (and I don’t even mind the price).

4. Playing “Is he a hipster, or is he homeless” on the train home in the afternoon.

5. The fact that there is always something on. An art expo, a theatre exhibit, a concert, a folksy band playing at a hole-in-the-wall bar.

6. Fine dining to suit any appetite. Modern, traditional, asian flare.

7. Sushi. $2 Tuna rolls on the go, to be precise.

Beer gardens, china town, little laneways covered in awe-inspiring grafitti, tourists huddled at stop streets, the bell that rings from a tram, the way the city lights reflect off of the rain covered walkways, the guy who plays the sax under the bridge enroute to flinders, the gelato place outside of Crown, the buskers, chalk artists and the street vendors.

Melbourne, I miss you, sometimes.

When I left Melbourne, I wanted to start over. I had this idea in my head that severing myself from everything else in my life and traveling across the sea would allow me to recreate who I was. I thought that I could leave all of my mistakes behind, and be someone new.
Then I got to Halifax, and too soon learned that I was still the same person, making the same mistakes, just in an entirely different city.
I’ve done a lot of growing up in the last year. Living out of a suitcase and starting with nothing but the bare basics can do that to you. Suddenly all of the issues you once thought were life or death become obsolete and petty. I shifted my focus, changed my perspective, and stripped myself from all of the expectations I used to have.
But I still have a lot of stuff to figure out. A lot of things that I have to come to terms with and a lot of things I need to let go of.
One thing about traveling on your own is that you’re suddenly catapulted into a world where you become your own top priority. There is no-one pulling strings or directing you where to go next. It’s entirely up to you. And it’s only yourself that you have to blame when things go awry, and it’s only yourself that you have to thank when things work out- you take on full responsibilty for who you are, wherever you are. It’s challenging, it’s terrifying and at times it’s incredibly lonely, but it’s also enthraling.

When I left Melbourne, I wanted to start over. I had this idea in my head that severing myself from everything else in my life and traveling across the sea would allow me to recreate who I was. I thought that I could leave all of my mistakes behind, and be someone new.

Then I got to Halifax, and too soon learned that I was still the same person, making the same mistakes, just in an entirely different city.

I’ve done a lot of growing up in the last year. Living out of a suitcase and starting with nothing but the bare basics can do that to you. Suddenly all of the issues you once thought were life or death become obsolete and petty. I shifted my focus, changed my perspective, and stripped myself from all of the expectations I used to have.

But I still have a lot of stuff to figure out. A lot of things that I have to come to terms with and a lot of things I need to let go of.

One thing about traveling on your own is that you’re suddenly catapulted into a world where you become your own top priority. There is no-one pulling strings or directing you where to go next. It’s entirely up to you. And it’s only yourself that you have to blame when things go awry, and it’s only yourself that you have to thank when things work out- you take on full responsibilty for who you are, wherever you are. It’s challenging, it’s terrifying and at times it’s incredibly lonely, but it’s also enthraling.

It’s always raining in this city. Sigh… 

(via darklamb)

thedailywhat:

Drunk Jumping of the Day: Four suited-up gentlemen gave patrons of the classy Vue de Monde restaurant in Melbourne’s Rialto Towers quite a thrill when they suddenly dashed towards the balcony and lept off.

The foursome turned out to be BASE jumpers ditching a tab at the restuarant’s Lui Bar in spectacular style.

According to owner Shannon Bennett, the men entered the restroom in succession shortly before the stunt, where they put on their parachutes, and then headed straight for the 55th floor balcony and jumped.

The 886-ft. skyscraper, noted for being the tallest office building in the Southern Hemisphere (floor to roof), has 56 stories in all.

The identities of the jumpers have yet to be revealed, but Bennett says they all wore helmet-cams, so he expects to see footage of dine-and-jump on YouTube “pretty soon.”

[news.com.au / ea

Gotta love Melbourne sometimes. Never a dull day in the city, eh? 

On Friday I had the opportunity to attend the Melbourne Taste Food and Wine Festival. We got to taste some amazing canapés, drink some delicious wines, and meet some pretty impressive chefs and cocktail makers.

The highlight of the night was a little unexpected, though. We attended a wine-tasting class, divulging in the wonders of Australian Pinot Noir’s. While I am a fan of such tasty wines, and I enjoyed the class, my favourite moment might be somewhat… frowned upon. Along with my amazing friend, Fi, I took a seat amidst a group of other smartly dressed wine tasters. As they swivelled their glasses and the instructor blabbed on about notes and fruit and wood and the scent, Fi sniffed her glass and exclaimed: “I do detect a hint of…. hangover, with a mild taste of what could be a 3am trip to McDonalds. Classy? Not in the least. Hilarious? No doubt about it.