This & that, down under

1. Coffee date with a girlfriend and the Faery, in my old neighbourhood - known as Little Italy. On the menu: one caffe latte pour moi, a babycino for the Faery, and toasted banana bread... with lashings of butter, of course.

2. & 3. First time ever on a ferry for Miss Pie. She was rapt: "I YOVE IT!"

4. Making the most of decent public transport; also Miss Pie's first time on a real train.

5. Beautiful thunderstorms! Sydney put on a couple of grand shows for us, which I wasn't expecting for that time of year. The fat raindrops smelled just as heavenly as I'd remembered.

6. More coffee, just the way I like it. Embarrassingly, a second cup would put me a bit on the jumpy side. Evidently, LA life has decreased my threshold for proper Sydney-strength espresso... but I made the most of it and barely a day went by without consuming it.

7. It was the perfect time of year for wattle galore. I couldn't get enough of that scent.

8. Harbour views from Taronga Zoo, this photo taken after my brother's wedding rehearsal. It was a glorious day to be out and about.

9. In Hyde Park, there was a busker with all kinds of balloon-blowing contraptions. We happened to be there on a quiet weekday (not sure what he was thinking?) and saw bubbles like I've never seen - large enough to swallow children. The girls had a blast playing along.

10. Driving on the left-hand side of the road again - kind of like riding a bike, I guess. It was less strange than I thought it would be, but you know what was a shock to the system? Sydney roads. Tiny, narrow, congested, and hardly ever a direct route from A to B. I never realised how crappy they were before - mind you, the majority of our time spent in Sydney was more innercity-terrain than suburbia.

Refresco

I'm not much a of a soft-drink girl, but I've been drinking an awful lot of this lately:

Thirsty? That's my problem. This heat makes me crave super sweet cold drinks more than usual. Normally, Coke is just a hangover cure for me (not that I have much of a call for that these days)... but over recent weeks, I've found myself buying a small glass bottle on an almost-daily basis. Bad.

These bottles of Mexican Coke are only $1 a pop at my local shops, and meet several of my rules regarding Coke.

The first rule is that it always taste nicest from glass. The second rule is that Coke sweetened from sugar cane (as opposed to high fructose corn syrup) is always going to taste better than its American counterpart. Oh, and my third rule is to never drink the diet or sugar-free versions. Not only is it a taste thing, I just don't see the point.

An added bonus is that this black liquid solves my conundrum of settling for less-than-mediocre coffee when a caffeine fix is also required. That's what I call a win.

And hey, this Coke habit is definitely cheaper than preferable to the other kind of Coke habit. I have so little in the way of vices these days... no one stands between me and a good old sugar hit.

I'm no hipster...

After three long hours of kid-wrangling at a car dealership yesterday, J and I decided to reward ourselves with a couple of great take-away coffees on the way home. We were passing through Old Pasadena, where Intelligentsia is, and it had been a while since we last treated ourselves.

J sat with the kids in the car while I ran in to grab the coffees. The queue was out the door - longer than I'd ever seen it. As I waited, I did some people-watching. This is a favourite past time of mine, and one that I don't have the luxury of doing much of these days.

Watching the baristas, and the majority of customers, was a little like being at the zoo.

You see, I'm no hipster (I have countless photos to prove this). They were.

They were achingly hip. Effortlessly groovy hair? Check. Tattoos nicely hinted at? Check. Funky outfits? Check. The latest in Apple technology on display? Check. Small offspring perfectly accessorised in vintage gear? Check.

We sometimes get a coffee from Intelligentsia because they make such damn good coffee. Coffee that almost gives you a religious experience.

We don't go there for the vibe. The vibe doesn't excite me. The baristas take themselves just a little too seriously.

Anyhow. I was waiting in the line, people-watching, when a song came over the speakers. A song that sounded so familiar, and one that I'd heard a few times recently. I was trying to figure out how I knew this music, when it suddenly came to me:

I tell you, it took all of my restraint not to laugh out loud. Portlandia is a new show that I've been watching, and have fallen in love with. It's incredibly funny, and pokes a lot of fun at the various groovy, alternative cultures within Portland.

Although the show is set and filmed in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, it's not mocking Portland itself. It's a show which could be set within just about any Western city. It would work just as easily if it were set in Sydney's Newtown, or Brighton in the UK, to name a few places. For the record, I've been to Portland, adored it, and have some wonderful friends who live there.

But how I love this show. It's delicious. It's clever. Some of the characters are so 'wrong' that I'm transported back a decade, when I used to watch The League of Gentlemen (in my opinion, one of the best dark comedies ever) and was pushed far outside my comfort zone. 

So, standing in line for my coffee, people-watching the hipsters, hearing the music, thinking of Portlandia and how fitting the music was... it was one of those moments where I wished more than anything I had J right beside me. He would have got it. He would have known why I was about to explode into giggles. When I was back in the car, coffees in hand, he laughed as soon as I mentioned which piece of music had been playing inside.

He totally had the same thoughts... and that's why I adore him.

For now? I'll leave you with a clip about my new favourite TV show:

Bobbing, weaving and darting

The Faery is a balloon addict. Hell, what kid that age isn't?

How lucky for her, then, that the staff at our local supermarket are very keen to foster this addiction. They are her enablers. Most visits end with her clutching a helium-filled, logo-emblazoned balloon on a string, a lollypop attached so it won't blow away if she lets go - we all know how traumatizing that can be, and I don't just mean for the child.

Bubbles of annoyance

I'm not such a fan of this addiction. I find it annoying. Not just because sunken balloons seem to breed in our home, but because of our journeys home from the supermarket. These trips are always on foot. For a long time, the Faery had major anxiety that she'd accidentally let go of her balloon, or that it would burst if bumped against one of the many trees we walk under. This resulted in me having to carry the balloon for her.

Pushing a stroller with Miss Pie that's already laden with groceries underneath (and often a full bag that's dangerously hung off one handle), one-handed because I'm usually getting my caffeine hit, can be a tricky affair.

To have a helium balloon bobbing around, weaving and darting in front of my face? Annoying beyond belief. I savour my supermarket trips on the days when the Faery is at preschool, and balloons are out of the equation.

In recent months, she seems to have overcome her worries, and now carries her balloon. Life has been just that little bit easier. Thank god, because we are currently without a car again, and the supermarket gets to see our faces on a daily basis.

So imagine my joy this morning, when at the self-service aisle in the supermarket, Miss Pie began pointing wildly at some nearby balloons, and speaking excitedly in Swahili (well, I don't know for sure that's the language, but it sure sounds like it). She's now at that age where she can make it very clear what she wants.

Imagine my joy when the nearby attendant - a lovely lady who adores my girls and never fails to lavish attention on them - understood her Swahili, and reached for the balloons.

Not one, but two balloons: "For your big sister as well, because she's at school."

What could I say? She meant well. With a long sigh, I exited the shop and began the walk home. Heavy stroller, coffee in hand, and two helium-filled balloons bobbing around, weaving and darting in front of my face...

Coffee, Los Angeleno-style

Coming from a country where cafe culture is big, and it's easy to find a decent coffee, I'd been warned about American coffee before we moved here. I also had faint memories of the Starbucks "cafes" which seemed to be on nearly every street corner during an earlier visit to Seattle, about ten years ago. The main issue that Australians tend to have with the coffee served in chains such as Starbucks, or Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, is... well, there are a few, actually.

Let me illustrate. A quick google search for images of coffee from these chains revealed the following:

Notice the images are all about the branded logos. There were far fewer images which showed the product that was inside the cups. Which is probably just as well.

If you prefer your coffee to be made from beans that are well-roasted, the steamed milk to add just a creamy texture (not a foamy froth that could support a spoon standing on it's own), and not made so hot that the first taste will burn several layers of your tongue off, then these chains are not for you.

My own personal issue with buying coffee from these places is that every time I order a cafe latte, I am asked, "Would you like that hot or cold?" Every time. Yes, please give me a cold latte... because I love it when I've been so busy that my coffee has gone cold before I've had a chance to drink it. Let's save time and serve it to me cold. I am also frequently asked if I'd like whipped cream on top. No, but thanks for asking. Lastly, I've even had so-called baristas try to sneak in a shot of brewed coffee into my latte - instead of using espresso. And then using the espresso machine solely to steam the milk. Cheeky.

It wouldn't be fair to say that all American coffee is bad, though. A recent trip to Portland, Oregon, taught me this and gave me hope. There were some places there which served wonderful coffee that I'd be more than happy with in Australia. I've since reviewed my stance, and concluded that the problem is La La Land. Coffee culture here is just not very cultural.

Not long after we moved here, some friends suggested that we try coffee from Intelligentsia, which has a handful of cafes throughout the country. So we hopped in the car and drove to the nearest Intelligentsia cafe, in Silver Lake - about a 15 minute drive away. Was it good? You bet. Pretty much just like back home. But to have to drive that way every time the urge for a proper coffee struck? Not worth the cost of petrol! So these last few months, I've had to just suck it up and drink the chain swill when in need of a caffeine hit.

Believe it or not, I am getting somewhere with this whinge about coffee in La La Land. Last Saturday, J and I had a rare date night, so we decided to stroll around Old Town Pasadena and check it out properly. We'd been meaning to do this for quite some time, as we only live a 5-10 minute drive away. We were already feeling the love when, walking along the twinkly, fairy-lit, tree-lined Colorado Boulevard, we spotted a newly-opened Intelligentsia cafe. Excited is an understatement for how we felt. We raced inside, and were not disappointed. This was much more like it!

The happy ending to this self-indulgent tale is that I now only have to drive 5-10 minutes if I want a proper coffee. By L.A. standards, this is not bad. It also means I shall not complain about American coffee again... however, a shiny espresso machine is on mine and J's wish list.

Speaking of which, I could really do with some caffeine right about now...