The tourists came for the coffee. Not for the opera or the galleries or the tram that circled the city like a tired loop of memory. They came because someone told them it was good here. Because someone’s sister came back from Melbourne and said, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a flat white there. So they landed with jetlag and strange money, and they went out looking.
They came in pairs or with worn-out families. They came with maps half-folded and accents drawn from every corner of the globe. They asked what a magic was. They asked if it came with cream. They asked if there was Wi-Fi. The baristas smiled and answered, not always kindly, but always honestly. A magic is a short double ristretto in a five-ounce cup. It comes without cream, but it might change your life. No, the Wi-Fi is not free.
They liked the alleyways. The ones with the murals and the steel chairs and the cold wind that slid down the backs of their shirts. They took pictures of their cups, of the latte art, of the bearded man pouring milk like he was painting. They said so beautiful, and how do they do that, and they meant it.
Some of them expected fast service, New York fast, Tokyo fast. But Melbourne moved slow when it came to coffee. It was a ritual, not a product. You did not rush it. You waited, and you watched, and you paid attention. If you wanted it fast, you got it bad. That was the rule.
They learned, or they didn’t. Some wandered off confused, back to hotel lobbies and chain cafés. But others stayed. They came back the next day, and the day after. They stopped asking for soy and started asking what was on batch brew. They stopped posting and started tasting.
A few tried to talk like locals. They ordered with confidence, but said ess-press-oh, and smiled like children learning to walk. The baristas forgave them. They were tourists, but not fools. They were looking for something real. And sometimes they found it. In the quiet corner of a café where the light hit the table just right. In the first sip, strong and clean. In the warmth that rose in their chest and stayed long after the cup was empty.
