Hello, all.

I’m writing from an undisclosed location, somewhere south of the equator, from which I will be be based for x amount of days.

In this Eden I’ve been surprised by the high quality of local food and drink, which the locals do not fully appreciate.

I do.

A simple trip to a very local supermarket reveals a staggering quality and quantity of food; the breads, cheeses, and meats are first rate and surprisingly affordable. While at Wally World in the States you can hardly escape with a few pathetic bags and your wallet lighter by a hundred-and-a-half, here, you can get the same amount of really first rate stuff, for less than half that amount.

Among the items of truly quality foods and drinks is the Short Black, a bracing, rich, black-as-midnight cup of Joe. This is not a cup of coffee in the US sense. This is an adrenaline producing, full-throttle, vicious jolt of pure, visceral essence of the esteemed coffee bean, while died well on the bottom of my tastefully appointed cup.

I have been instructed that one should never drink more than four of these guys in a day. I fear I have been remiss- and at some point I shall pay for my many sins.

The Short Black calls, and I should firmly resist.

But damn, are they fine. The perfect compliment to the sunrise; a trusted companion to the rising sun in the north-east.

This has been a surprising revelation, the Short Black. I was unaware that the denizens of this fair land are harsh critics of substandard coffee.

After this, coffee in Midwest diners will be an abomination, I’m afraid.

I’m ruined.