On the train from Kansas City (free writing)

I arrived at Union station in Kansas City at 7am this morning. The line for Chicago was already long, with more people adding up as the minutes went by. 

We only boarded the train at 8am, almost 20 minutes behind schedule.

I fell asleep for the first hour or so after becoming comfortable in my seat. How could you not, they were basically reclining chairs. 

Missouri came by fast, along with the first stop for a quick cigarette break. Not for me though, I needed a coffee.

I regret not grabbing a Parisi coffee at Union station, and also not grabbing breakfast in the dining car on the train, so the hell am I going to miss out on lunch!

I got up off my seat, picked up my bag and headed for the dining cart. Disappointed, I saw no patrons. 

Asked the lovely gentleman, clearly from Chicago by the way he spoke, he directed me down stairs to this lonely little dark corner canteen with an impressive menu printed on an A3 sheet of paper - I had no idea you could reheat so many items.

I ordered a Hebrew National hotdog, 100% kosher, with sweet relish and mayonnaise. A cup of coffee with half and half, and a bottle of water. 

She packed up my order neatly in a cardboard box, I gave her my money then walked up to the lounge car to enjoy the scenery. The sides and ceiling of this car were all glass, allowing a vast amount of natural light to beam through, the perfect dining experience especially with the seats facing out wards.

A country man [from Fort Maddison, Iowa] and his son is sitting behind me, talking to an amish couple about gaming [hunting], the labour market and how someone should come up with a country song about a red barn, because everyone likes a red barn. 

However, his knowledge about this land is impressive. He's a well travelled man. He loves pointing out the scenery to us, explaining the geography and the history behind the towns, plains and ridges as we passed them.

There's a few Amish people on this train. Some with young families and some traveling with relatives and partners. Most would do a double take on me. 
Wait till start talking, yep, I'm the funny looking man that also sounds funny, trying to get home to Chicago.

P.s. I highly recommend traveling via rail in America. It's cheap, convenient and you get a chance to relax and take in the lovely scenery. It's a great way to meet people too. 

Washington DC and Kansas City in 5 minutes

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I had the opportunity to experience my first Thanksgiving ever with the most awesome bunch of people on this earth in a beautiful town called Kansas City.
I absolutely loved Kansas City, everything from the food, the people and its industries, which includes world-class-specialty-grade coffee roasters and craft beer breweries.
Not to mention the amazing restaurants, jazz bars and cafés - this place is my idea of paradise.


Also, I spent my birthday weekend in the capital, Washington DC with the most amazing Mallette (whom you've probably read about before in my previous blog entry 'Why Diabetes?') which was absolutely wonderful.
Fun filled with amazing scenery, great food, good coffee, and fun activities like salsa dancing, ice skating and intense games of chess, also including a cute puppy and an espresso machine.

But, instead of words, let me give you a quick preview of my Birthday weekend and Thanksgiving via a YouTube video montage.
Enjoy!

Land of the free

It's two degrees Celsius outside, I'll be seeing Jason Mraz at 8pm, but before then I'll be having dinner with my cousin at this amazing restaurant called Mercadito on Kinzie street, a couple of blocks away from the famous North Michigan Avenue, aka the Magnificent Mile.

I'm actually inside Ghirardelli Chocolate Company having one of the best hot chocolates I've ever experienced. 

I'm happy. I can't explain this feeling, but it feels like I'm at ease. I'm rested. I'm stable. 

Everything makes me smile. Everytime the wind blows and I'm freezing my ass off, I chuckle. When I see a yellow school bus drive pass, I imagine having children of my own. 

Even when I hear the train announcements, I feel as if I'm heading home.

Now don't get me wrong, I love Australia, a lot.
I gave Australia everything in my twenty-five years of service there. I've worked so hard for the land that's girt by sea, and I still have so much more to give. I've had great experiences there, and I've had bad experiences there - Just like anywhere.

It's just that at this very moment, in the land of the free, I'm at ease - my mind, body and soul. 

I don't wake up in physical pain anymore from working so hard to keep the bills paid and the Australian tax office happy. I'm not stressed all the time wondering how I'm going to take my business into the next level so I can stay of top of my game to satisfy my staff and customers, and I'm not caught up in the rat race for once. 

For once, I can be a twenty-something year old, (even though I just turned thirty-one) and I feel like I have so much to catch up on.

So as you could already tell, America is my escape - and it's tempting to just keep running.

I have family here. I have friends here, but most importantly, I have a clean slate here.
I'm a different person here. I'm someone whom I've always wanted to be; relaxed, disciplined, and motivated to build something new. 

Although as romantic as everything may sound, I still have huge responsibilities back in Australia, 

but let me live my fantasy for another two months. 

My feet will touch the ground again soon.

With love and respect.

Do not focus on the finger or you will miss all the heavenly glory - Coffee edition.

I love American coffee.
Yes, you read correctly - I love American coffee (that includes Canada as well).

Give me a Latte if I see you rocking an espresso machine.
Give me a house blend with Irish cream if I'm at the train station.
Give me a double-double if I'm in Canada.
Give me a freshly brewed if I'm at Starbucks (best believe I do have a Starbucks reward card as well).
Give me a medium roast with creamer if I'm at the local diner.
Give me a filter coffee if I'm at the restaurant.
Give me coffee, just give me coffee and I will enjoy every drop of it.

Why Duke? But aren't you into coffee? Then why are you drinking such horrible coffee?
(FYI - Australians love telling the world how terrible American coffee is).

My answer is: I love coffee - unconditionally.

Coffee has more meaning to me than which notes I'm tasting on my palette, or which estate, or origin it came from. Obviously, those are very important if you're passionate about coffee, but why not allow yourself to see more than what's in the cup?

Perfect coffee not only requires the perfect crop, science, chemistry, equipment and the Barista behind it, but it also needs a time and place to complete the experience.

I'd happily take a drip coffee with half and half while I taking in the beautiful scenery of downtown Chicago, or a pot brewed, hand-ground coffee made at a village on the mountains of northern Thailand, rather than drinking a latte made with fully washed, AA grade single origin beans from a Kenyan micro lot farm while I stare at garbage bins lined up on some dirty laneway in Marrickville, Sydney.

Sorry if you don't agree with my ideologies, but life is too short to be a snob. Open up your mind and the world will open up to you.

Otherwise, what Bruce Lee said in 'Enter the Dragon':
"It is like a finger pointing away to the moon, but do not focus on the finger or you will miss all the heavenly glory."


In conclusion, why not come in to Duke's Lounge at 153 Avoca Street, Randwick 2031 NSW Australia for a 360 degrees coffee experience. We have a nice dining room to enjoy your speciality grade coffee in, we use only A2 milk, we have great music and the barista is also decent looking.

It all started in Chicago

Chicago is a beautiful city rich in history, diversity and culture.
The people are friendly, the restaurants are world class and the infrastructure is incredible.
It's been a month already and I still have plenty to do and see.

My family in Illinois, even though most aren't blood related to me, have taken care of me like their own child/brother/cousin and friend. Never in my life have I felt so loved and welcomed.

The other pieces of my heart that beats further north across the great lakes - Toronto and Mississauga.
I feel an incredible bond towards the North. I'm absolutely head over heels in love with everything up there. From the Tim Hortons to the loonies and toonies.
Rachel, her gorgeous sister and most beautiful mum took me in like family, and their friends made me felt like I've always grew up with them. Since I've been back in Chicago, I always think about them all the time. It makes me feel loved.

The rest of my soul is spread across the US, with beautiful people like Tara who took me on an amazing journey in Kansas City through all the things I'm passionate about; coffee, food and music.
And her wonderful family who've organized for me my first ever Thanksgiving, and taking me to my first NFL game. It was an experience I'd never forget.

Mallette and her gorgeous parents, having me over to celebrate my 31st birthday in Washington DC. Taking me around town, dancing and ice skating. We even finished a chess game we had started in Sydney at this gorgeous coffee shop in Chevy Chase - It was all so perfect. Although, the greatest birthday gift of all was Mrs. Asmuth's counsel and guidance in which made me the Realtor I am today - Forever grateful.

...and of course spending the week before christmas with Chris and Bunge down in New Orleans, they reminded me of what it means to love what you do and live life with passion. But most importantly, being able to keep a promise Chris and I made together when our paths met in Sydney was something so magical.

Thank you.
I love every one of you with all my heart.


So, besides being a tourist, visitor and researcher here, I've discovered that there's more to this journey;

I grew up with very little family - my childhood was a bit of a mess to be honest.
But, I feel like I've been given a second chance to redo this 'family' thing. This gift that I've received is more valuable than anything I could ever wish for. I didn't even realize how important this missing piece of my life was until I landed here - fallen into the arms of these amazing people I will forever call family.
I now have brothers and sisters - I have everything here that I missed out on as a kid.
I've found a missing link in my life I never knew was broken until now.
Never in my life have I been so welcomed, accepted and embraced - For once, I feel whole.

I'm forever grateful to have this opportunity to rediscover myself.

... And it all started in Chicago.

Update:
As of May 2015, I've since travelled back to Bangkok and found my sister - meeting her for the first time after 20 years at a surprise birthday dinner we've had planned for our dad nonetheless!

We always knew about each other, but through changing circumstances of my life I had completely lost contact with my dad, which meant I lost her too. It wasn't until a few years ago after I opened up my café that my dad found me again through my website and contact me via email.
...I guess he never stopped searching.

American coffee at first sight

Where do I start?

Is it the autumn leaves? 

Is it the amazing restaurants and bars?

Or is it the beautiful architecture?

Lets start with coffee.

Just like the coffee culture in Australia, coffee means more than just coffee here.

As Australians, we fuss about the quality of our coffee, and so we should when our cafés greet us at the door with career baristas piloting espresso machines that cost more than ten thousand dollars.

But here, a host will greet you at the door and take you to a table instead. Service comes first in America, and let me tell you, it's extremely refreshing to have career waiters and waitresses who take their job seriously, bringing the highest standard of customer service to each and every table. That's why people here will travel out of their way to patronage certain diners and restaurants. 

Because let's face it, Aussies can be lazy. To be fair, we're quite spoilt by the choices of good cafés we have directly and immediately around us. I'm willing to bet that every town and suburb in Australia (well, at least in Sydney and Melbourne) will have one decent place that serves a good coffee and probably a decent meal to pair it with. 

Therefore (and quite rightly so) It's in our nature as Aussies to always demand quality coffee, and judge those who can't produce a good cup logically because the bar has been raised high in the industry, which became what is now the norm.  

However, what I've noticed here in America is that everything starts with comforts; 

comfort food, comfort service, comfort price, and obviously - comfort coffee. 

Coffees representation here in America is a warm mug of familiarity, with a side of cream. In an establishment where you will be taken care of well, share a conversation with the server or even the table next to you and enjoy nonstop refills until you've had enough. It's hospitality at it's finest.

Some places do a better brew than others, but otherwise it's not about where the coffee came from or where it was roasted, but where it's served and the experience around it. 

In conclusion, it's unfair to say that Americans have no coffee culture - something a lot of Australians like to mention to those who are traveling to the US. The truth is, all cultures are different and you should never compare yours to anyone else's. 

I personally accept all coffee cultures and I see the beauty in all. 

As well as being a hospitality professional myself, I really do appreciate a high level of customer service being delivered to me and, in all honestly, I would rather have the bad coffee with the great service rather than the reverse any day.

Next, I will start writing about the American espresso café culture, which I feel is different to the American coffee culture, but until then - Welcome to the American coffee world!

Fourteen hours of flight time - Hello Dubai!

That must've been the longest plane ride I've taken so far. Fourteen hours straight. I normally go as far as Bangkok, but this time I had another five hours added on top. 

Luckily, I had two seats to myself in the brand new, most gorgeous A380 thanks to Emirates airlines, and since I'm only a little guy, I had all the space to sleep and move around as I pleased. 

So here I am at Dubai Airport. Yes, I took the long way 'round to get to Chicago, but I'm glad I chose my connecting flight here because this place makes a great stop over. Apart from being an amazing airport in general, it also allowed me the chance to take a break and adjust to a new timeline and without question, I hunted down a place to have my first coffee. Judging by their espresso machine and the person behind it, I chose a place called Giraffe. 

The coffee itself isn't bad per se, but the winner here was the organic fruit and nuts bowl; with Greek yoghurt, almonds and pistachios for breakfast. For some reason, fruit always taste better overseas. 

In saying that, the water here tastes and smells funny. Filtered water is bearable, but tap water has a really odd smell to it. Hmm..

I have a hotel room waiting for me on the way back so I won't write too much about Dubai airport this time 'round. 

So,

Thirty minutes till my flight to O'Hare airport in Chicago now. I've regulated my water consumption well, and got myself some cold and flu tablets for the flight. Hopefully I won't be sneezing every fifteen minutes this time. 

Another fourteen hours ahead. 

Onwards! 

Finally here. Hello Chicago!

Wow - what a plane ride!

Believe it or not, I had the whole row to myself. I could literally lay down and have a proper nap in economy class! I mean, the first leg of the journey had me having two seats to myself, and I thought that was lucky, but this is something else. Emirates airlines, you're pretty amazing. 

So, I'm here! After thirty four hours of being in transit, but I loved every second of it. 

Reunited with my cousin again after five years and it felt like we never left.

First stop was an epic meal at a Chinese restaurant in Chicago's Chinatown square. What I couldn't get my head around was how cheap it was. The meal we had came to just under fifty dollars. If we had the equivalent in Sydney, we would've paid a minimum of eighty dollars. Easily.

Arrived at my cousins house, hung out with the family, had a well needed shower and as a night cap I brewed some Nicaraguan coffee through an Aeropress - Already it feels like home.

I survived the protest in Bangkok

It was monday morning on the thirteenth of January.

Bangkok was her usual self; streets bustling with pedestrians, vendors and traffic of all sorts.

However, there was something different in the air today. Salary men and women were nowhere to be seen, and people had a different pace. They weren't rushing to get anywhere, instead, they were on a pilgrimage. 

The steady march of the people who've slowly occupied the streets, along with the determination in their eyes was a telltale that something big was going to happen. 

My girlfriend and I caught the sky train just after breakfast. The cabin was already populated with commuters as we entered, with more squeezing on at every stop.

With this influx of commuters, eventually the shade of the cabin was hued with a common theme; a spectrum of red, white and blue, which came in the form of clothing, flags and fashion accessories. 

Once in a while people would smile at each other, followed by an affirming nod. There was this sense of pride that filled the air, a togetherness that's usually seen at ball games. It made us feel safe, even though we knew things could change in an instant. 

As the sky train transited closer to Siam Square, you could start to make out the faint sounds of what appears to be whistles, which is not uncommon in Bangkok, but today seems to be more than a few being blown at a time. 

As we approached, the faint noise of whistles gathered and became a muted roar, like a rolling thunder continuously greeting the oncoming storm. 

The cabin doors opened, and with haste we were awakened with hundreds, if not thousands of whistles being blown in unison. The deafening noise compounded as one big sound wave which crashed through the cabin. 

The sheer volume alone occupied every remaining air space inside - It drowned our regrets and filled up our spirits to support the people of Thailand. 

It was a welcoming to the family I'll never forget. 

We were now at the epicenter of the protest - It was Shut Down Bangkok Day. 

Unlike what you imagine protests would be, this particular uprising was attended mostly by families, with many coming from the provinces. They booked out coaches with the very little money they had left, shared it between the community and supported each other so they could travel to the capital city and take control of the future of their country. For many, this was their first time in Bangkok. 

Because of this, they resorted to living in tents mostly around the main roads and parks, ultimately occupying the areas and transformed them into villages.

In an act of kindness, people donated food and water. Trucks of supplies driven by civilians were transported around Bangkok to all the different protest sites, feeding millions of protestors. It became a well orchestrated operation with big companies involved, but acted in anonymity as protection of their goodwill towards their stakeholders. Nonetheless, we knew who they were, and they were helping the country get back on its feet, despite risking a drop in their share prices if the investors ever found out.

The top tier hospitals of Thailand also set up mobile clinics and embedded them into the protest sites to look after the health and well being of all those who were protesting, irrevalent of which side they were supporting.
You could literally go in for a health check up, and even pick up your prescription at these tents conveniently between protesting. They also had trauma wards ready, with paramedics scattered through the crowds making sure a fast response could be attained in times of emergency. Otherwise, they were treating the occasional minor flesh wound caused by common outdoor activities, or the few people that suffered from dehydration.

Also, big stages were setup all around Bangkok to mark the centre of each protest site. They were so well constructed that Thailand's top musicians and entertainers booked them in between political speeches to organize concerts of a life time.

The only real issue at this point for Bangkokians and tourists was transportation. Unless you lived or worked conveniently near a BTS line, getting around was challenging, especially with most of the main arterial roads closed off or occupied by the protesters. However, we witnessed many private coach drivers running services as reinforcements to the government bus services, everything from twelve seater vans to utility vehicles rigged with bench seats crawled through the streets making sure people had sufficient transportation options. It was almost a protest movement in itself.

We were lucky to have stayed in an area called Pratunam. Which was conveniently located on the inner cloister of the Siam Square area, about a radius of five kilometres. In that radius, we had two protest sites at walking distance.

The best part was seeing all the street stalls flourish. It was easier than ever to navigate the steets safely, grab a bite to eat and do some gift shopping whilst experiencing an important part of Thai history being written in front of your eyes. 

Attended by millions from all walks of life and social classes, The 2014 Shutdown Bangkok - Restart Thailand wasn't just a protest. It was a celebration of love for the kingdom of Thailand.

This cultural call to arms is evidence of why Thailand has remained unoccupied since the beginning of modern world history. 

Power to the people.

Long live the king. 

ขอพระองค์ทรงพระเจริญยิ่งยืนนาน🙏

Exploding bacon, choking on pizza and the hard road to success.

Unlike many Restauranteurs, I dove into this business eyes shut and head first;

no back up funds, no experience, no plan and no team. I basically had no clue to what I was doing. 

But what I had was a vision, a sprinkle of passion, and a whole lot of heart.

..and I worked so hard, 

God, I worked so hard.

However, I still went under four times, financially.

I was so desperate to make ends meet that for a good few months which followed my negative financial position, I was doing dinner service in conjunction with breakfast and lunch as well.

That meant a solid sixteen hour day for me - six days a week.

..and to give you an idea of what that's like, my day consisted of; 

In the morning, (straight after I shopped for produce), from 8am until 4pm I served all day breakfast and lunch. After that, I'd do the orders and the accounting then rest until 6pm to open for dinner. When the day was over, I'd do all the cleaning and wouldn't get to sleep until midnight. 

Rinse and repeat. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures. The business was basically on life support. 

I could've easily pulled the plug but didn't because I had faith - I persevered. 

But luckily it wasn't for nothing. 

We managed to financially break even in the months which followed. I wouldn't say it was smooth sailing, but the business thrived against all odds. 

It started to take on a life of it's own, and I could see a positive trend in the business. 

However, at the fifteenth month (or so) my business faced an issue to do with human resources, and it effected me more than it should have. 

Therefore, for physical health and mental health reasons, I decided to cancel dinner service and reevaluated my business plan.

Despite the slight hardship I went through with the above mentioned issue, I quickly regrouped, and as one door closed, another door opened, and amazing people walked through it.

Without delay, I rounded up an amazing crew with a collective passion towards the success of the business. 

We had means, we had motive, and so we readied our ship and took it straight into battling waters. 

Initially, we launched with an internet marketing campaign. At the time I was hesitant towards signing the contract because I was concerned that we might not have enough resources to accommodate the campaign, plus the profit margins were really low. 

Although, realistically it was worth a try and I had nothing to lose so I agreed and we ran the campaign.

On the day that our campaign went live, the marketing manager called me to inform that we've successfully sold upwards of two hundred coupons in the first two hours. 

Then by midday (after the fourth phone call from him), we'd already clocked up four hundred sales - rejoice!

The campaign went on for another two days, and needless to say, we had an amazing response from the public. It was actually phenomenal. 

As a result, for a solid six months afterwards, my restaurant was packed with customers.

We'd easily turn the whole dining floor three times over during breakfast service, moreso on weekends.

I remember being so proud to finally put in an order for twenty kilograms of coffee per week with my supplier. A number which isn't easily reached for your little neighborhood café that's off the beaten track - it was definitely a personal milestone. 

We were cooking so much bacon that in several instances, we had two huge paella pans on top of two wok burners sizzling a never ending amount of bacon to assist our grill plate. Like Spartans at the hot gates, we had big pan lids as shields, and spear-like tongs to control the neverending onslaught from the army of exploding bacon rashers.

All jokes aside, it was a huge financial balancing act in order to salvage profits left over from the running costs of the campaign. Everything was closely monitored; every kilogram of bacon, every individual egg. Even down to every gram of coffee was accounted for, to the point where it was a set back if we lost a shot of espresso (which is about eighteen grams of coffee).

The honeymoon was short lived as for a different turn of events, another wave came and almost capsized our ship.

This time, the challenge was so above my head that I seriously believed that it was the end of Duke's Lounge - so much that I strategized an exit plan.

Then one day, after close of business, my crew sat me down to comfort me, and proposed to me that they'd do everything in their power to help out with the situation. We brainstormed and a couple of them raised their hands and offered to exchange their labour and expertise for nothing. 

They had love for the business, and immense trust in me to keep the ship afloat, to make the right decisions and show them better days. 

With that trust and respect given to me, I had no other option but to pull up the sails, take the helm and foreward the ship into the eye of the storm.

My crew took on most of the day to day operations of the business, and my friends helped me out with the administrative work, leaving me with one job to do; make amazing coffee.

Financially, this was also an all in move as we reinvested every cent into the business to rapidly build it up and take it as far as we could. 

Of course, we were left exhausted after a few grueling months of battle, but our morales were high, so we kept fighting, hoping for better days to arrive.

(Plenty of 'business meetings' at the pub after work also helped kept everyone motivated.)

Not long after, I was invited as a guest to the Sydney Morning Herald Good Café Guide awards night of 2012, and truthfully, I wasn't planning on attending. I was exhausted after work and the last thing I wanted to do was congratulate all the winners while at the same time remind myself of the terrible position I was in, compared to everyone else. 

But, my dear girlfriend talked me into attending by telling me that I at least network with people in the industry so they know who I am, and consume all the free food and drinks so we didn't have to worry about dinner.

So there I was, at the awards night, feeling very insecure about myself and my business.

I positioned myself near the caterers and ate all the canapés and the craft beers as they came.

Then all of a sudden during the awards ceremony, as I was stuffing my face with this gorgeous pizza, Duke's Lounge was called as one of the winners for the 'One Cup' award, an announcement I never thought I'd hear in this lifetime. 

There was confusion which filled the room before anyone applauded because no one had heard of Duke's Lounge until that very moment. 

Hell, I was still confused myself, and best believe me when I say that I almost choked on that pizza which was still making its way down my throat, as I tried to hold down tears of joy at the same time. 

It wasn't a pretty sight.

I yelled out a 'woohoo' and the applause began as people turned to look at me, and for a moment in time I felt like I was sitting on top of the world.

Then I came to a realization;

Yes, I'm that new kid in town. 

Yes, I won that award. 

Yes, I'm still almost broke, that's why I'm eating all the canapés because I'd rather not pay for dinner afterwards, 

but yes, I'm extremely proud of myself because I built this business with my bare hands and I'm finally doing something right with it.

It was a night I'll never forget. 

Hard work pays off, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. 

Brighter days will come as long as you stick to it - believe in yourself and others.

Myself, and my crew included, gave it everything we got; blood, sweat and tears. 

We never backed down even when we faced imminent death.

Most importantly, we understood what it meant to became a family. 

We cried together, we laughed together, and we succeeded together. 

In hindsight, it was certainly the glory days filled with great lessons and stories. Even if we didn't make a cent, it did put us on the map and opened up more opportunities which followed. 

The memory of it in itself is priceless.

Duke's Lounge was more than a business. It was a symbol of hope, hard work and unconditional love.

We continued on for years to come, growing our family with amazing people who found each other in a small suburb called Randwick.

Thank you for walking through the door, thank you for believing in me, and thank you for believing in the business.

- Forever grateful.

P.S. We also won another cup in the Good Café awards the following year, and just for good measure, we kept featuring in many national publications as one of Sydney's leading café restaurants, too.  

Ten quotes from songs that hit my heart strings - Part one

As a musician, I have a lot of love for music of all types and genres. 

I could probably say that I love music more than I love coffee - and that's a huge statement coming from me. 

There's no argument that music makes the world go 'round.

We've all witnessed songs that have brought people together; lovers, families, enemies and nationalities.

We've witnessed songs that have empowered individuals and inspired revolutions.

But also sadly, we've witness songs that were the cause of senseless destruction.

Sometimes a simple verse, or a particular line from a song can jog the wildest memories or take you on an emotional roller coaster. It could make you laugh, cry, or even make you fall in love all over again. 

So, on a lighthearted note as we move on, for Part one of this blog topic, I've chosen lyrics from my easy listening collection, and without further ado,

Here are quotes from songs that hit my heart strings:

1. I'm feelin' electric tonight. Cruising down the coast goin' 'bout 99.

2. Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken?

3. I could be the one to take you home, Baby we could rock the night alone.

4. It's not always rainbows and butterflies - it's compromise that moves us along (yeah).

5. Someday I'll wish upon a star, and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.

6. It feels like something's heating up, can I leave with you?

7. I'll never let your head hit the head, without my hand behind it.

8. ..and all that glitters is gold - Only shooting stars break the mold.

9. Only know you've been high when you're feeling low, only hate the road when you’re missin' home.

10. Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis. When I was dead broke, man, I couldn't picture this!

..Now here's a challenge!

Can you name all of these songs without having to look them up? 

and while you have a think, I'll leave you with an impromptu kitchen party at Duke's Lounge:

Eat Science Love: The Science of Coffee, by Vanessa Huron

My lovely customer and friend, Vanessa Huron has written an amazing blog about coffee and the science behind it. 

Vanessa's research and understanding in this subject, put forward from the point of view as a PhD student and Scientist, unravels another dimension about this gorgeous pressurized molecular reaction called Espresso, 

and also about the science of steamed milk.

Take your knowledge about this science and art form to the next level, 

and get ready to be mind blown via the link below:

Eat Science Love: The Science of Coffee

An excerpt:

'Let's talk about water temperature. Having the correct temperature is crucial for a good coffee. If the water is too cold, the coffee will be under-extracted and will be, in a word, disgusting. There's a few reasons for this. Firstly, the heat of the water allows for particular volatile compounds to be released from the coffee, giving it that amazing aroma - for the budding chemists, that includes ketones and aldehydes. Secondly, it allows for soluble compounds to contribute to that beautiful taste, which includes caffeine and sugars. Thirdly (and definitely just as important), insoluble compounds are released from the extraction (such as proteins and polysaccharides), which give us the beautiful coffee texture, and the foam that we know as crema.'

My bittersweet life in the hospitality industry

My childhood is a complicated story to tell, but for the very early part of it, and then for the last part of my teenage years, I grew up in the hospitality business.

I was born in 1983.

My parents owned two restaurants. Their first restaurant failed miserably due to a partnership disagreement. The second one took off from the mid-1980s, but came crashing down in the mid-2000s due to mismanagement, although not before becoming a pioneering blueprint for Thai restaurants in Sydney.

Before transferring to Thailand as a result of parental separation, as a young child I remember annoying the kitchen staff because I wanted to help them chop vegetables or decorate dishes. I would then annoy the floor staff because I wanted to serve customers, and eventually annoying the customers because I wanted to sit down and eat with them. 

Back then, for some reason, everyone was pretty relaxed, so I got away with a lot of things, including eating half of the customers' entrées at their tables. 

However, just because I grew up in restaurants didn't mean I wanted to own one. 

Once I graduated, I headed straight for the suit life and swore off hospitality completely for almost a decade. Besides, as much as it was a great memory of my childhood, it was also a rough one. 

It tore my family apart, left me stranded and neglected in Thailand for a good half a decade, and had me picking up the pieces again once I came back to Australia - story for another blog entry.

But you can't run away from what you know so instinctively, and you can't hide away from something that has defined your life for better and for worse. 

As luck would have it, at a turning point in the not too distant past, I faced it again, for a few reasons mostly explained here.

So, having not been to culinary college or barista school, graduated from a business degree, (albeit having dabbled in a few part time businesses in the past) or having ever worked in the hospitality industry, how am I still here, sitting in my café packed full of customers, greeting them between writing this blog?

I guess I got lucky.
..or else I guess all those late nights spent watching chefs prep and cook up dish after dish during service, watching the waiters and waitresses flip table after table in the dining room, and sleeping between table cloths and spare chairs hidden behind the counter whilst waiting for my mother to reconcile the takings for the night meant that my rogue education in hospitality paid off.

Also, my mother ran a tight ship, but she was also kind and generous. She was flexible with shifts, paid everyone on time, and she even drove every staff member home late at night to make sure of their safety at the expense of her time and energy - I definitely took all of this on board, because I understood that the success of the business starts with the happiness and morale of your staff.

Therefore, half a decade later, with two highly coveted awards in the industry and a number of positive reviews and spotlight features in both online and offline publications, my rogue education in the art of the restaurant business has proven to be effective. 

Having said all of the above, I wouldn't have known this about myself until I finally listened to my heart and built my own restaurant after having sworn off the industry for all these years.
It was like I had unlocked a vault I kept shut all these days from denial, and found a treasure of mine that I never knew I had kept inside.

It's funny how life works sometimes, right?
Blessings in disguise?
I'm just grateful that I've discovered this about myself sooner than later, and had the opportunity to see it through.

Coming to America! ...Confirmed!

Sometimes you just gotta take a shot at life, no matter how ridiculous the shot may look, haha!

I FINALLY booked my plane tickets to America! 

I'm coming, baby! 

Woohoo!

Lets talk about my past, just for a little bit.

I had to rush home, because the apartment block that I'm currently living in has no electricity due to a cable blow out this morning from the heavy rain we've been experiencing in the past week so far in Sydney.

..and I'm home earlier than usual because I have a cat.

You see, pets aren't allowed in my apartment block, and I happen to be living in the apartment that has the only manhole to get up into the roof, which is where all the wiring are. 

So after the estate agents called me requesting access into the apartment, I raced home as fast as I could. 

But, thanks to my girlfriend's mum, she got here before I did and hid our cat in our bedroom. Crisis averted.      

Anyways, I'm here now, at home, with the cat hidden in the bedroom while electricians walk in and out of the apartment leaving me with nothing else better to do, so, to pass the time, let me tell you a story of a young boy who walked the streets of Bangkok on his own.

The year was 1995.

Home was this building deep in the catacombs of Bangkok. 

This building had a lot of 'live in' staff. 

It housed a factory, a factory with machines that produced clothes. 

Most staff members lived in little rooms tucked in corners throughout the factory.

Those that didn't have rooms just camped out on the floors of the factory. Most used industrial stock rolls of fabric as blankets and pillows. 

Yes, I lived in one of these. 

I believe they are called sweat shops from a western point of view, but for us, it was more like boarding school. 

I was always rushing home so I didn't miss dinner time at the factory. 

Most nights I was late because I went to school on the other side of Bangkok, and the fact that the traffic in Bangkok doesn't allow cars to go faster than 50 kilometers an hour at the best of times meant that I was always going to be late home, regardless.  

Because of this, I had to hit the streets myself to find dinner, with a handful of cash to buy a meal and a pocket knife for protection. 

I was eleven. 

To make my life a bit easier, I would make friends with the street vendors, the shopkeepers, the local kids and the stray dogs. Even the shady characters in the dark alley ways recognized who I was, 

'the neighborhood kid'; 

not poor enough for the slums, but not rich enough to have his own bed, yes, I shared a bed, ..but at least I had one.

No one gave me trouble. 

Through their eyes, I was one of them. Struggling, but not crying about it.

Suffering, but smiling through it. 

We'd look out for each other because we were all we had. 

Being selfish wasn't an option if you wanted to survive here.

I would walk through lanes where illegal activity were conducted; hustlers, alcoholics and dealers of certain products. 

The ice cream vendor was even in on it, whom at night had a side business in the gambling industry, conveniently embedded in his cart. I would put a punt or two just for kicks if I passed him on the streets.

I never won any money, but he always gave me a free popsicle so I didn't leave empty handed.

That night, I was deep in the slums bringing food for my friend who didn't have any dinner to eat. 

For that night, no one had to go to sleep hungry, and no one had to feel like they were in it alone. 

When I came home, the owner of the factory had already locked down the building, but one of the metal doors was still open.

He was waiting there for me to return, and he wasn't pleased that he had to wait.

Needless to say, he had put the fear of god in me afterwards for breaking curfew.

But, at least I went to bed knowing my friend had something to eat.

As I reminisce, I am reminded that:

In the poorest of places resides the most generous of people. 

..and that my childhood was full of valuable lessons, in which I'm slowly understanding now. 

(The above photo is me with my friends. I'm the one on the far left getting down on the shot. Nothing has changed much lol)

The Zen of Pocket Billiards

I love pocket billiards,

specifically the game of Pool,

especially Nine ball Pool.

The game of 'Nine ball' consists of nine object balls, all sequentially numbered, and a cue ball.

Using the cue ball, the goal is to pocket all the object balls in sequence starting from the lowest number onwards, with the last ball (the ninth ball) being the 'Money ball'.

This also means that if you were to sink the ninth ball without committing a foul during your turn, 

even with other object balls still on the table, you can automatically win the game. 

Anyways, I'm not here to teach you how to play pocket billiards. 

I'm here to talk about what I've learnt from it.

Just like the game of life, 

there are a sequence of prerequisites that you should see through before you take aim at your target goal.

These could come as completing school or university, forming relationships, getting a qualification, learning a skill, broaden your horizons through traveling, or investing your time and/or money towards your future.

But, no matter what you're working on at the time, you must always try to position yourself well, so you can take a good aim at the next shot. 

The intention is to always be thinking about the next move, 

all the while having the ultimate goal in sight. 

However, nothing is stopping you from risking everything, 

skipping all the set prerequisites, using what you have and go for the 'Money ball'.

On the other hand, 

even if you do complete every prerequisite laid out on the table, you could also make a simple mistake and lose it all. 

Life can be like that sometimes. 

That's what makes it challenging yet beautiful. 

As long as you enjoy every shot you take at it, make the important shots count, and remember that there's always next time.

Just like a game of Nine ball.

Footnote:

Apparently, the game of nine ball is quite popular in North America. Unlike in the EU countries, or even Asia pacific (including Australia and the pacific islands) where the game of 'Eight ball' reigns supreme, 

America, especially continental US, are more fond of this strategic game when it comes to pocket billiards. Another variation to this game is Ten ball, which is quite popular amongst the competing professionals, or if you're really, really old school, you'll have heard of 'Seven ball' as well. 

Either way, I'm excited to have a few games of Nine ball while I'm traveling the US, pretending to be a touring pool hustler like Paul Newman in the movie 'The Hustler' or Tom Cruise, in the movie 'The Color of Money',

but like they say, "it's all fun and games until someone loses their balls" 

Why diabetes?

I only have a few weeks now before my journey begins in the US, and as part of my travels, I've applied to be a volunteer for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) and the American Diabetes Association (ADA).

No, I don't have diabetes.

Although, like many who have a strong connection to support causes in health care; Breast Cancer research, ALS, or Alzhiemers Disease, mine is with Diabetes.

So,

without further ado,

Here's why:

I became interested in diabetes in 2007 after meeting Hannah. I remember spending several hours doing research on this illness so I could have a better understanding of my dance partner. 

She used to carry around snacks, and tested her blood glucose levels (BGL), especially before and after our ballroom dance competitions. 

We spent a lot of time together, six days a week to be exact. When weren't training, we were taking lessons. when we weren't taking lessons, we were teaching. Otherwise, we were just hanging out at the dance studio looking at ourselves in the mirror, working on movements, filming them and being silly.

Then one day our friend, [also a ballroom dancer] was diagnosed with Type one Diabetes (T1D) at the age of 14. During that time, we would visit her in hospital, and at the time, my knowledge about T1D was pretty much limited to what I read on wikipedia and WebMd, which wasn't much at all, so Hannah did most of the talking.

In saying that, Hannah didn't speak up much about her diabetes. Besides from seeing her testing and treating lows, the only time it came up was the couple of times when I'd be at the studio waiting for her only to be advised that she was in hospital after a hypoglycemic episode which happened overnight. 

So, I'd stay to do some practice by myself then I'd go home to do more research on diabetes, this time specifically more on hypos and hypers, specifically the whys and hows. 

However, when Hannah was back at the studio again, I never approached her about wanting to understand more. My impression was that she wanted to keep it private, and I respected that so no further questions were asked. 

I also got to know another person with Diabetes (PWD) through ballroom dancing, and again, I never drummed up the courage to approach her about the topic. 

At the time, I discovered Kerri Sparlings blog: SixUntilMe, which helped me fill in a few blanks. She also made me aware that T1D isn't just about being insulin dependant, but also about the struggles and victories that PWD's deal with mentally and psychologically on a daily basis. 

As a result, I understood how important it was to be supportive above anything else.

I stayed informed, but not intrusive.

Hannah and I caught up recently, and I told her about this blog entry and whether it'll be alright if I wrote about her using her real name, instead, she gave me this:

" I don't talk a lot about my diabetes, as a teenager it was embarrassing to be different but now I see it in a new light. I think it's important for people to know I have T1 diabetes as a measure of safety, but I do not let it define me!

That's my only advice to other sufferers. No you cannot ignore it. (which I often did and that was why I would end up in hospital.) I haven't had any issues or hospitalisation in years and that's because I accept it as a part of me. 

I don't look at it as a fault, instead as a quirk or my imperfection - We all have one don't we?
I don't think people that know me would say 'oh she's a diabetic!', instead, they'd say; 

'fun, charismatic, incredibly clumsy and carefree!' 

My personality, drive and morals is what defines me.

You're stuck with it until they find a cure so you got to accept it at some point!

I control diabetes rather than diabetes control me! "

Hannah and I danced together for almost three years. We trained hard, and towards the end, we were winning most of our competitions in ballroom dancing. We also taught Salsa dancing once a week, and did performances up until I had to leave the partnership to focus on my restaurant business the middle of 2010. 

Hannah continued on with dancing, and to date, she is still competing and winning. I'm so proud of her achievements not only as a dancer, but also as a young professional. 

Then came Mallette, 

the superstar Barista of Duke's Lounge for the summer of 2014. 

(Not a ballroom dancer this time, but she has a hidden talent for salsa dancing.)

The day she came in for a trial I noticed she had a device clipped to her waist. I asked her about it, and she told me it was an insulin pump as she's a type one diabetic, 

and just like that, my eyes lit up. 

She was armed with an Animas OneTouch Ping Insulin Pump and a Dexcom G4 CGMS which blew my mind as I've never seen [or knew of] these devices before in my life.

So after her trial shift concluded, I quickly dug up my notes from four years ago and started to read about T1D again that very night. 

Now, with an updated understanding of T1D, I couldn't wait to see her again. 

First and foremost, she was an outstanding candidate with exceptional skills in the hospitality and service industry, along with having a high business acumen.

Secondly, I wanted to witness this miracle called Insulin Pump Therapy (IPT), 

so I quickly hired her and trained her up as a Barista.

From a distance, without being a creep, [which is probably too late to say now] I would watch her count carbs and bolus for a meal, adjust her basal rate, check her CGM and calculate corrections after testing throughout the day. 

When she wasn't looking I would take a quick glance at her CGM, awestruck by this technology. 

But, I slowly learnt to read the graph, the numbers and the arrows and knew roughly when it was a good time to ask her if she wanted coffee, or whether it's a good time to ask if she wanted lunch. 

I also stocked up our fridge with a dozen juice boxes at a time, making sure I rotated the flavours once she went through a certain amount. 

I also confess that I drank a few myself. 

Eventually, without further hesitation, I brought up the topic of T1D with her. 

Aside from making a fool of myself like forgetting that butter has no carbs, Mallette was very open to discuss about it. 

Along with high fiving each other everytime her BGLs were on point,

we started with standard topics first such as how generic test strips will enhance care and manageability especially for PWDs in lower economic situations as long as they were reliable, 

and why the Thai green curry she had the other night screwed her numbers up. 

We also discussed how convenient it would be to have one site/one infusion set for both the pump and the CGM. (In which I believe Medtronic are on top of that now with the Minimed Duo for the EU market, while we wait patiently for the FDA to approve it for the US) and we were pretty excited to hear about the trials and success of the bionic pancreas system which uses both insulin and glucagon together to simulate a healthy pancreas.

We even played the BGM countdown game once at a bolus worthy pie shop.

..Finally! 

after years of keeping it to myself, I got to come out of the closet and was able to speak to someone about my 'type none' diabetes. 

Yes, I know, I'm slightly creepy. 

Mallette worked for me for about six months. 

She's now back in the US attending medical school and being a part time marathon runner.

As a matter of fact, I'll be watching her run the Chicago marathon this year in October, and hope to catch up with her afterwards again in her hometown to win a chess game we left unfinished in Sydney, just to even out the scores, 

because I hate losing, 

especially when it comes to chess.

Moving on,

Because of this, I felt confident and aspired to learn more, and so I stumbled upon the Diabetes Online Community (#DOC) while obsessing over the medical technology in Diabetes (#DTech) and saw how the push to open data inspired 'Databetes' and 'CGM in the cloud', and manifested the #wearenotwaiting movement, initiated by the Do It Yourself Pancreas System (#DIYPS), and the NightScout Project.

From there it lead me to follow blogs on Diabetes (#DBlogs) and its authors, which lead me to the Diabetes Social Media Advocacy (#DSMA.) 

Furthermore, who could forget the amazing #showmeyourpump movement lead by the most beautiful; Sierra Sandison, aka Miss Idaho,

and the announcement of 'phase 1/2' trial of the encapsulated beta cell replacement therapy, lead by ViaCyte and the JDRF.

I also was mind blown with the 'Threshold Suspend' feature lead by the MiniMed 530G Medtronic pump with Enlite sensor, the first of its kind to be approved by the FDA. 

..and the exciting news about the Tandem TSlim and Dexcom integration. 

..so on and so forth!

So now,

including advocating awareness through my online and offline resources, 

I also attend a few #DOC chats weekly, such #DSMA and the occasional #HCSM to 'listen in' and broaden my knowledge. 

Otherwise I'm devouring information on Dblogs and websites such as DiaTribe, asweetlife and DiabetesMine, and attending online webinars [the latest being about Insulin Pump Essentials]. 

Needless to say, I follow a whole bunch of PWDs and T1D advocators, HCPs and carers on Twitter, and I'm grateful to have the blessings of everyone for allowing me to listen and learn from their experiences.

Lastly,

Thank you for teaching me that T1D isn't caused by ballroom dancing.

From the bottom of my heart, @Dukeslounge