Sydney is fuelled by caffeine. It is almost impossible to walk along a street and not find a place serving coffee to the addicted masses. Places open and close with surprising regularity and friends greedily swap notes about new places to feed the cravings. Starting during the 1950s, as Italians left Europe and moved down under in greater numbers, it is a habit that unites the generations. But better than that, Australians make some of the best coffee in the world.
Why is coffee a topic on my mind at the moment?
Simply, my packing has been punctuated by the required, regular and reassuring breaks for coffee that the task requires. Then it struck me. The nearest coffee place to my new home is, if I run up the hill, about 25 minutes away. Can you feel the panic as I am typing this?
I make coffee at home. A lot. But it isn’t the same as a skilled barista’s creation. Something that seductively lures you in, anticipating the aroma and taste of that first cup. Sitting with a friend and leisurely sipping away an hour of your day watching the world pass by. Sorry Italy, but no standing at a counter and knocking an espresso back in one mouthful here, thank you!
The slow countdown to the end of the month is no longer in days, but in cups of coffee. How many can I fit in before I move? Only the next 21 days will tell.
And on that note, am off to meet a friend for coffee.