Surprise. We opened Taguan Sydney last year, 2024, in a small 12-seater on a quiet corner of Redfern.
There was no grand opening. No streamers. No influencers or media lists. We barely announced it, really. Just quiet posts here, a soft launch there. No drama. Just coffee and food. That’s always been our way really. Nothing grand, just warm, just… Taguan.
And yet, somehow, it blew up.
I still don’t know how to explain it. It could be the community, the timing, or just sheer accident but the response floored us. We were meant to be a small hideaway. Suddenly, we had lines. People were showing up. Finding us. Staying. Returning.
When I moved here, I brought a lot with me. Some were physical. Bags, luggages, the usual migrant baggage. Some were emotional: grief, homesickness, unresolved weight. I missed Yakult every day. I still do.
But in this city of strangers and second chances, Taguan slowly became something else. A small home. A familiar rhythm. A quiet answer to everything loud and new.
So yeah. I guess this is a one-year-late announcement.
We opened a tiny café in Redfern last year. Just 12 seats. No big launch, no ribbon-cutting. Just the quiet hope that maybe people would find comfort in what we were building.
A few weeks ago, I realized it’s been a year.
Taguan was never meant to be loud. It was never about being new or cool or trendy. It was about finding warmth. Familiarity. A little pocket of home tucked in the middle of somewhere else.
We didn’t plan for it to grow this way. But maybe that’s what makes it special. That it stayed small, soft, and honest even when things around us didn’t.
So I guess—happy anniversary, Taguan.
Still hiding in plain sight.
Still filled with heart.
Still here.