I lived in shared accommodation during the first few months of my stay in Sydney. It was a house with 6 rooms and a backyard that was in dire need of maintenance. The other occupants were mostly backpackers and were on holiday-visa. Young Engineers from Estonia, French and Chinese students, a journalist from Iran, a scary bearded guy and a Colombian man who was always playing loud music. My husband and I stayed in one of the rooms. Being the only female, I ventured out either to go to the office or the bathroom.
The rent was cheap while the location was close to the city, so it suited us well, to initially settle in this foreign land until my husband could find a job. We had sold everything, packed our whole life in two suitcases and landed in Sydney. (I will write about it someday)
Everything was going on well except for a mysterious smoke that would sometimes hang heavy in the house. Now I am a simpleton. I just couldn’t figure out where this foggy thing was coming from. As it was winter, I thought maybe the fog got into the house from outside. I know, how stupid right! It didn’t smell like cigarette smoke or anything that I had smelled before, but it definitely had a hint of weirdness. I would stare at it in wonder, sometimes at night I would get up and check the kitchen in case anything was burning.
Most days when I would come back from the office, and open the main door, the smoke would blow into my face. The house looked mysterious at night, especially over the weekend, with the smoke billowing from the living room into the hallway. Quite dramatic I would say, like an episode from Alif Laila.
And then my husband enlightened me one day that it was Marijuana. Every morning one of the guys would roll weed and smoke them. I just laughed when I heard that. Maybe the smoke finally got to me.
The mystery was solved and probably the only thing I feared was smelling like a drug addict. Imagine walking into a meeting, all dressed up and perfect hair, emanating an aroma of a banned substance. I kept my clothes nicely packed inside the cupboard and started using pretty flowery perfumes, which itself might have started suffocating my colleagues. Funny thing is, I hate perfumes.
We stayed in the house for four months, and later on, moved into our own home. I had stayed in hostels and paying guest accommodations since I was 18. For over 10 years I had lived out of a suitcase, moving from one place to another. And let me tell you, it has been quite an adventurous journey 🙂
Holy Moly! I assumed your home would have been possessed by some banshees and ghouls! Lol, just kidding; it’s uncanny how we end up carrying whiffs of things/people we come in contact with.
Food, or even if we wear somebody’s clothing. I still carry my mother’s handkerchief in one bag, and it still smells of her, though she has been gone seven months.
Good you didn’t “pot”-er around too much and liberally doused yourself in perfume.
So much for the “pot”s and pans. :)))
Funny, Raj! Love your narrative! Smokey smells do settle on everything they come in contact with. I remember a friend of mine mentioning that she would always be reeking of agarbatti because her PG hosts always had some burning at home.
Oh yes, I sometimes fear I smell like the food I cook. They settle on clothes really quick. Thanks for stopping by Vidya.
I suspected weed, not that I have any experience with the mysterious smoke or the smell. Your encounter with marijuana must be the funniest one. 😀
Hahaha I could never imagine it was weed. I should have been more wise 😅
thanks Vinitha
Quite a story that Yoga Girl. I admire your bravery for literally walking out to a new start with the shirt on your back! Fortune really does favour the brave
It’s quite an interesting journey. Sometimes I can’t even believe I did that. But it was the best decision we had taken. Thank you so much 😀