As an immigrant to New Zealand, I yearned for companionship. The kind I couldn’t feel at home or at work. Somewhere to indulge in obsession and curb the loneliness I felt in a new land. And so I discovered a handful of havens that became more than mere locations on a map.
The local comic book store in Auckland. Sadly no more since COVID reared its ugly head. I would wander and share my knowledge of silver age comics while spending far too much on hardcover Graphic Novels.
The 24/7 gym in Auckland. The start of my gym obsession. A cheap but always available spot where the same people congregate at the same time every day. Arrive ten minutes earlier and you may finally claim that squat rack.
The Muay Thai gym in Auckland. When lifting weights was replaced by kicking bags. We reveled in the ferocity of our workouts and the hamburgers consumed immediately after.
The boxing gym in Auckland. When the shins could bear no more pain, my fists would have a turn. As with the Muay Thai gym, yet another group of tired souls basking in the glow of glistening sweat.
Each provided me with what I was missing at that time of my life - a third place.
What is a third place?
Ray Oldenburg coined the term. I’ll spare you a word for word definition. This is what it means to me:
A place to sit and do nothing.
A place to sit and talk of nothing.
A place where no one is greater.
A place where no one is lesser.
A place where you see the same people more than once.
A place where you’re told their name more than once.
A place where you don’t need to look up directions.
A place where you are sometimes tagged in Instagram mentions.
It is a place of intimacy and paradoxically, both quiet solitude and random conversation. It’s not the shopping mall where you wander with nary a hello nor wave. It’s not the train station between spaces, where the only conversations are played in your podcasts.
What of now?
A year into my Melbourne adventure all I knew were two places: Home and work.
My usual haunt of a gym was no longer the sanctuary I once had. Because it’s not the activity that makes a third place, it’s the people. And the people I did not find.
That is until I lost one place - my work.
Unemployed and meandering through the streets of Brunswick, I stumbled across a quaint little cafe. Nestled on a side street, four elephant steps away from Sydney Road, it served coffee.
That’s cold coffee. Not coffee with ice but coffee made of what was previously ice. A cooler, more refreshing take.
As good as the coffee is, the company is so much more.
You won’t need your smartphone here unless it’s to add contacts and update your Instagram follow count.
I work from home
Covid introduced me to the pleasures and pains of working from home. While the commute time has gone from an hour to ten seconds - the average time it takes me to wipe the grit from my eyes and remember my laptop password - it has left my bedroom feeling like a place of work.
Traditionally, the first place is home.
Now, the second place is home.
And the need for a third place is ever greater.
When the only line that divides my work from home is which browser I’m logged into, having an escape from the home office is needed.
So what does this mean?
Find your third place.
Make casual acquaintances, sometimes friends.
❤️ Love this, Nav. Chuffed you found CBCB. It is richer due having you.