Name Unrecorded Cafe, King's Cross neighborhood, Sydney, Australia. Joined by local sherpas Mary and Andrew.

On the menu, there is the beverage choice "soft drank."
Mary: I remember one time we were in Thailand and they spelled "burger" about six different ways. "Bugger," "booger..."
Andrew: And then there were pancakes, plancakes...
We compare passports. The stamps issued by China and Brazil are very fancy and elaborate.
A: They don't mind taking up an entire page of your precious passport.

There is mild confusion as we attempt to determine what type of coffee would best suit J.
A: We have our own terminology. (to waitress) I'll have a flat white.
J: Do they have drip coffee?
A: No, you probably want a long black.
Half the food arrives.
G: Can I try some of your bacon, Andrew?
J: Bacon! You are the worst vegetarian ever.
G: It looks like good bacon!
M: I should also have cutlery. Make the universal sign for knife and fork if you catch her eye again. (makes typical elbows-out sawing motion)
J: While I was in China, they were selling yogurt out of carts on the street. The carts would re-use the containers -- you'd buy the yogurt, eat it right there next to the cart, and then give back the container and they'd re-use it. My friends from the hostel were really into it. I said, you're inviting and courting and wooing hepatitis.

* * *

J: I'm doubtful about the quality of cheese fries coming out of this kitchen...
(they arrive)
G: They did the grill on top thing.
J: Excellent choice.
G: It doesn't smell like anything,
A: Probably what they call "tasty cheese." (Ed note: The Australians are a charmingly literal people. The coffee choices are generally named by appearance, the bluish nearby mountains are the Blue Mountains, the subway system is called CityRail, and cheddar, accordingly, is indeed universally called Tasty Cheese. See photo forthcoming in sydney album.)
G: The fries are bland.
J: Yeah, they lack sharpness.
M: (tries one) I should have had something to cleanse the palate.
J: (hands her a bottle of ketchup -- locally labelled "tomato sauce") These are spectacularly average fries.
G: They look like they should be better.
J: Yeah, with the golden brown on top. They're flavorless. Yeah, these are pretty bad. (beat, as G takes a giant clot of cheese and fries) How did I know you would take that one?
M: These are pretty typical of Australian fries. Not too fried, a little floppy.
J: They're pretty typical. They're not the worst we've had.
G: (wincing) They have the searing heat.
J: Which you hate, as has been described in your centerfold.
G: Dude, that's totally what we should do while we're here. We should take pictures for our cheese fries centerfolds. We could do it when we get to the hostel! Dan could help us.
J: Yeah, but then we'd have to make sure there wasn't excess white space in the centerfold.

* * *

M: We say "North American" cos we don't know the difference between Canadian and American. Kinda like Judeo-Christian.

Somewhere along the way, A notes that there is a US Postal Service mailbox on the street outside the cafe. I realize that I've been staring at it the entire time without recognizing the incongruity -- even though there is a Village Voice street box AND a Gotham Writers Workshop box on its other side! When I ask the guy sitting on top of the boxes what the hell is going on (see pictures), he tells me Saatchi and Saatchi is doing an advertisement for Crest toothpaste. He points out a badly-forged USA Today box down the street. Having paid for our awful fries, we walk towards it and chide the production staff leaning on it for filling the streets of Sydney with garbage. They call for quiet on the set, and a dry run begins. Scruffy hipsters in super-skinny jeans emerge from the crowd and begin leaping in the air, grabbing at something invisible which doubtless has something to do with Crest. I have been in Sydney for all of two hours, and I already feel like I've never left home.