My Tribe and A Sunday Roast

Travelling is fantastic—there’s no doubt about that. Meeting new people from every corner of the globe can be exhilarating. But let’s be real, sometimes you want to hang out with your kind, those familiar souls who get your jokes, understand your slang, and know exactly what you mean when you say “arvo” instead of “afternoon.” And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my adventures, Australians have a magical ability to find each other, no matter where they are in the world. It’s as if we Aussies are equipped with some secret homing device that pulls us together, even in the most far-flung corners of the planet.

Case in point: my recent experience in Da Nang, Vietnam. I had just arrived at my new apartment building when I heard a familiar sound—a loud, cheerful Aussie accent coming from the coffee shop downstairs. There he was, an Australian bloke, holding court as if he owned the place. He hadn’t met us before, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way he greeted us, like old mates catching up after years apart. He quickly launched into a passionate sales pitch about why we absolutely had to move into this apartment complex.

So, naturally, we signed a three-month lease on the spot. Fast forward five months, and I can confidently say it was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. My friend, unfortunately, had to move out due to personal reasons, but we kept in touch. I was thrilled when I got a message from him inviting us to dinner with some other Aussies he’d met in town.

Getting there was an adventure in itself. The Grab driver, bless his heart, got thoroughly lost. The destination was a little café called The Nomad Kitchen, tucked away in a part of the city that didn’t exactly scream “tourist hotspot.” After a bit of a trek down a narrow laneway, we finally found it. It wasn’t flashy, but it was clean, cozy, and inviting—just what we needed after our little urban safari.

Our mate was waiting for us at the door, as loud and welcoming as ever, and he led us up three flights of comically narrow stairs to a little corner table where the rest of the crew was already seated. The gang included a Melbournian we already knew, a Brissie bloke, two guys from Perth, and a Darwinian who probably knew more about Crocs than the rest of us combined.

The evening was filled with easy conversation and constant laughter. There’s just something special about sharing stories of travel highs and lows with fellow Aussies—tales of bungled bus rides, accidental encounters with local wildlife, and the inevitable homesick cravings for something as simple as Vegemite on toast.

But the real star of the night? The meal. You see, my friend had discovered this little gem of a café for one very special reason: on Sunday nights, they served a traditional Sunday Roast. And not just any roast. This was a choice between Roast Lamb or Buffalo, served with all the trimmings—crispy roast potatoes, sweet pumpkin, tender carrots, cauliflower cheese, green beans, and the most divine mint gravy you could imagine. And for some reason, it even came with the fluffiest Yorkshire pudding you’ve ever seen outside of England.

It was like a warm hug from home, right there in the middle of Da Nang. We weren’t just travellers that night; we were a tribe, gathered around the table, sharing a meal that brought us back to Sunday afternoons in our kitchens back home.

Sometimes, amid all the excitement and novelty of travel, you just need to be with your people. Australians have an uncanny ability to give each other that much-needed dose of familiarity and comfort, no matter where in the world we happen to be. And I can tell you, there’s nothing quite like the joy of finding your tribe when you need it most.

Love MyLifestyle.

Sheridan-Leigh

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