the drunken cycle
I am totally digging the coffee culture in our capital. I don’t know whether everyone knows it exists, and whether by chance I’ve landed smack-bang in the middle of it, but it does exist, whereas I’m pretty sure Noosa doesn’t even know that there is something better than what they serve.
I’ve flown in and am living with my best friend, who moved down here 6 years ago, where he has embedded himself in a holy triad of the boutique café scene. On friday afternoon, these three cafés, their owners, and the associated baristas who work at one or more of these stores, met up for drinkies at a pub which only serves the beer it personally brews. Wicked, and variant beers, ales, stouts and ciders.
Its fucking crazy, the amount these people care for coffee, and bicycles, for the most part, as well.
With several boutique beers imbibed, it comes to me to go to Supabarn, buy some cheap wine (they sell booze in supermarkets here), and ride with it, in hand, to someone’s bbq at their house, where I meet even more baristini, including a dope dude with an ironic skyrim tee on. With cheap wine, expensive beer and citrusy sangri, I then head out with this manic crew and hit the hipster bars of Canberra, where I meet more people and come face to face with some awesome, enviable sleaze tactics that - oh shit, I should’ve brought a notepad along.
