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14-04-2021
Column: Food for Thought - BAKLAVA
Column: Food for Thought - BAKLAVA
We moved from the eastern suburbs of Sydney to Arncliffe which is about five minutes from Sydney Airport when I was four-years-old.
It was a huge culture shock for me because during the 80s, Lebanon was going through a civil war and Australia had taken in its fair share of refugees, with a large portion moving to Arncliffe. I would walk with my mother down the main street and marvel at how all the signs were in Arabic, a beautiful unknown script to me, and the shops all had exotic wares that I’d never seen before.
We were a little scared to go into the shops in the beginning as older bearded men in funny little hats would all sit outside on the street and smoke a shared pipe contraption called a shisha; the smells of strawberry and apple had me thinking they were smoking apples. Over time my mother became more confident, and we would venture into the Aladdin’s cave of wonders. The men would look at us with confused eyes as if maybe we were lost; we could feel their eyes follow us around the store as we list

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