So Give me Coffee and TV

The opera house loomed majestically in the background as tourists and seagulls bustled about The Rocks. Everywhere, little white tents had been erected and in the air was the unmistakable, heavenly aroma of coffee.

This was the Sydney coffee festival. For one day only, any barista in town could set up a tent in The Rocks and sell their coffee for $1 a cup! Gabe doesn't drink coffee but he knew of my fondness for the legalised addictive substance and sooner than you could shout 'Didgeridoo!' we were in line to get ourselves some coffee.

As we neared the front of the line, i scanned the menu list. 'Cappucino, Mocha, Cafe Latte' were too tame for a coffee festival, even if they were each only a dollar. Aha! 'Ristretto' and 'Doppio'. I'd never heard of either but they sounded yummy. I pictured milky froth and cinammon sprinkles or maybe even chocolate. I was soon to learn the truth.

We gave our order to the frazzled lady at the front and two minutes later, we heard a shout. "RISTRETTO! DOPPIO!!"

I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and gawked. Instead of a nice latte, I was confronted with a shot glass of espresso so thick it bordered on solid. Beside it, there was half a cup of the mudddy espresso covered with an impressive layer of the golden froth that a good espresso ought to have. To me, it would probably be nothing, but to a non-coffee drinker like Gabe, I worried.

I gave him the smaller shot-glass-looking one and toasted him. I glanced around at all the people who had preceded me and were now buzzing around the harbour much like a hive of honey bees. "See you on the other side," I said and took a swig.

It was like drinking the contents of a coffee filter straight from the machine.

I launched myself at the sugar table and frantically put sugar into mine to stop the bitterness from sucking in my mouth.

I closed my eyes and swigged the rest down while Gabe, with a look of pain, finished his shot.

It was almost like a tequila shot and I was just about to wonder where my salt and lemon were when the caffeine hit me.

I never know what caffeine will do to me. Sometimes, I turn into a placated puppy, other times- a sarcastic bitch from hell, but today, I was Queen of the World.

We ran to the next stand closer to the harbour bridge and in our altered state, decided that the only thing to do was to wash the bitter taste out with two lattes from another stand. I chugged the latte down and never looked back.

It was like I was drunk. The streets started swirling a bit and my heart was thumping so hard I was sure that people from miles around could hear it. Gabe looked sort of pale and I wondered if he was feeling the same way. I roused up my remaining sanity and with my last ounce of non-jitteriness shouted, "To the market!"

We ran to The Rocks Market and slowly, I began to let the shiny objects and loud noises distract me from my coffee-induced mania. Shiny, so shiny. Everything took on a new sheen and brightness. I'm normally distracted by shiny things, but I was a disaster that day.

"Oooh! look at this!" "Ooooh! Can we go there now!?" "What's this? What's THIS?"

It was like I was on crazy pills or something.

Eventually, I managed to get through the market and hit the side streets in the area to do more shopping. One place we went to was like a gigantic art factory with dark wooden beams everywhere, dark hardwood floor, no windows and an eclectic display of mannequins and vintage jewellery, purses and shawls scattered over four stories. Spotlights would shine down on random collections of pop-art purses or a case of glittering antqiue brooches. "Ooooh shiiiiiny" I'd say and then drag Gabe over kicking and screaming.

Some of the floors were empty in the store and were eerily dark and dusty. On the third floor, the entire room was filled with hundreds of vintage sofa chairs. Each chair was placed in front of a single television and each television was showing a different thing. I realised it was an art exhibit only after I had snapped several photos and the security guard non-chalantly told me there were no photos allowed.

I remembered the guards at the British National Art Gallery and how they almost reduced a 40 year old man with a camera to tears with their reprimands. I had got off considerably easy.

On the fourth floor, things got a little out of hand. It was like I'd wandered into a room-sized Istanbul. I thought "The coffee's really done it to me this time" and rubbed my eyes again. The wooden beams and dark wood walls and floor seemed like the perfect setting for what was happening up there. Loud Turkish music was coming from one side of the room where a bunch of performers were playing and a strange audience was gathered around on cushions on the floor. It almost looked like a seance.

On the other end of hte room, a vendor was selling antique brass vases and lamps and any other assortment of things which I could swear contained a genie. Across from me, a man was selling shell earrings, jewellery with dark blue stones, turquoise and amulets with those eyes all over them. Behind me, they were selling baklava and yummy smelling Turkish pastries, turkish coffee, strong tea, and another assortment of goodies. The smell pervaded the room and gave off an exotic, misty atmosphere. I had to restrain Gabe from launching himself at the cart of pastries as he was ravenous at this point.

It was the trippiest thing I'd ever seen (well, aside from that one hostel where people were twirling fire batons in front of teepees and everyone was doing weed but that's another story).

We exited the store, walked around a bit more, passed a "Ghosts of Sydney" tour bus beside this dark staircase/tunnel thing and noticed it was getting dark. Gabriel was about ready to chew his own arm off he was so hungry. Restaurants abounded in the area and all boasted delicious (though overpriced) menus. Eventually, we saw a sign leading to an alley way where they promised we'd find a restaurant with harbour views and excellent Italian food. "What the hey?" we shrugged and entered the cobblestoned alleyway.

We went down the cobblestone alley, down some stairs, round a corner and suddenly, found a little wooden doorway with a "Please wait to be seated" sign. An angry-looking waitress guided us to the patio and sat us in the far corner.

The patio was huge with brick walls and a white tent over top. the red brick was contrasted with lovely little green plants and mossy stones lining the edge. True to form, we had a lovely view of the harbour and the street below and as we ordered our risottos and wine, it seemed as if it was going to turn out to be a lovely dining experience.

And then the music started.

It was like lite 96 Adult contemporary easy listening but at full blast. "All by myself" was followed by Michael Bolton which was followed by Peebo Bryson and some such mush. Luckily, the white wine I'd ordered was making it bearable but as the first few notes of Air Supply started playing, I lost it.

Gabe started giggling convulsively as I lipsynched Air supply and I believe the waitress must have got the message as after several giggly refrains of "Can't liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive, if living is with out yoooooooooou" they switched stations to some instrumental classical stuff.

We finished off the night with a nice ride home and a game of scrabble.

Needless to say, neither of us slept well that night thanks to our little friends 'Doppio' and 'Ristretto' but it was worth it. All in all, a day fit for a queen. Queen of caffeine highs that is.