Flat whites and Freedom

Who knew that our aussie aunts, uncles and grand pa and grandmother had a secret plan to lock us Americans away in their little home in North Melbourne. For days, we were forced fed “home cooked” dinners that tasted great but made us yearn all the more for the freedom to go out and buy some food … any food. Seriously. No vacation is complete without checking out the local dining scene … at least not for me.

For some reason, the family thought that we wouldn’t be able to navigate the city on our own and this just baffled me to no end. I mean I’m 30 years old…something that I’m not usually shouting out to the world but in this case I thought it would be enough proof of my competency in life. I really don’t know what kind of stories my father had been feeding these people for the past 20 some years...but it certainly seemed like he failed to inform them that Phuong and I were actually real adults capable of getting around a city without falling victim to kidnappers, gang bangers and other evils that they believed lurked around every corner in Melbourne.

After a few days of what felt like forced imprisonment, I was finally presented with a chance to break free from our confinement. I discovered from one of my aunties that she not only worked in the City but walked there from my grand aunt’s place (the location of our internment) and also there were trams that ran straight into the city and other destinations all around Melbourne. This aunt proved to be our saviour and key to freedom - thanks Vichi.

That very day Phuong, Judie, Michelle and I all left the house bright and early and trailed my auntie to work. We happily trudged past Royal Children’s Hospital, past University of Melbourne and straight by Queen Victoria Market …. right into the city. First stop…coffee shop. A flat white for me, hot chocolates for the girls and of course a meat pie for Phuong. A morning cup of coffee laced with freedom.