I want a biscuit

Its 3:30pm in Port Elliot and it's cold. There is a retro cafe come second hand furniture shop. It's my biggest temptation since we started the trip. I want a coffee. And I want a biscuit. 

I've been working professionally since I was 22, first as a social worker then community development, advocacy and most recently organisational policy and project management. Everyday, virtually without fail, I've gone to a cafe before work and had a coffee while I've studied, worked, socialised, read or written. Everyday.

Even though I've worked part time most of my career, with no kids, modest tastes and a (recent) manageable mortgage I've always had disposable income to indulge in things like daily caffeine habits. 

So going cold turkey into living (voluntarily) on an average of $15 per day (per person) has its challenges. 

For starters,  everything takes a REALLY long time. I used to take 20 minute lunch breaks which included a 3 minute walk in each direction to the nearest passable cafe for a panini. It cost $8.50 or $11 with a coffee. This is Luis cooking lunch in Port Eliot. 

What you can't see here is that it is really windy. He's cooking rice on our tiny single burner cooker cunningly positioned in the shelter of the BBQ which we are using to save gas. Later we will eat our local sausages and rice out of the saucepan in a little shelter with a seat. Then we'll clean the BBQ, find a tap and do the dishes, take everything back to the car and repack it. Takes ages. Every time.

When the gas is getting low this procedure also involves a long period of staring into the diminishing flame which is patently failing to heat let along boil the water in the saucepan above punctuated with swearing and bottle shaking (me) and suggestions to change the gas bottle (Luis). 

Before we left on this trip my primary worry was about not having enough to do and spending hours staring at landscapes going quietly mad (long distance car travel has not traditionally been my thing). I even packed crochet. I needn't have worried. This is a full time job.

We are also usually either hot or cold. Admittedly, this is partly because I packed in the middle of one of Melbourne's summer heatwaves and subconsciously forgot that outdoor temperatures could ever fall below 20 degrees. It's also because I spent the last two years in an airconditioned tower where I could pass whole days oblivious to the outdoor temperature. After a few weeks my body seemed to relearn how to self regulate it's temperature to some extent though I still spend more time than is strictly fashionable wrapped up in a tiger print furry blanket (see below).

The biggest challenge for me though is not having easy access to legitimate social indoor space and all the connected, person watching, relaxing associations involved in cafe culture. 

Which is why that retro cafe with it's $4.00 coffee and biscuit special really got to me. It's not that we couldn't go in and have the damn coffee. It's that I want to be able to NOT go in and have the damn coffee. We debated pros and cons. We even walked through the door (to assess the quality of the biscuits). And we walked out again. I took a few deep breaths and reassessed the options which included instant coffee and the possibility of something discounted from the local bakery (no such luck) or a packet of ridiculously overpriced biscuits from the IGA. This prompted a longish rant on the pervasiveness of mass production and the difficulties in accurately weighing up local vs supermarket treats in a modern globalised economy. 

When I finally got off my soapbox and took my self imposed first world problem back to first principles, what I really wanted was something warm, sweet and comforting. So, here I am looking terribly proud of myself making powdered milk porridge with maple syrup in the park.

Nothing ever tasted so good.