Fast forward to 2010 and in a sign of how reversed the two countries economies have become, it's now cheaper to drink lattes (or beer for that matter) in New York than Sydney. In October 2008 I lived in Brooklyn for a month and a latte from my corner cafe there was $2.75 (Atlas Cafe on Havemeyer). For six bucks I got coffee, a toasted bagel with cream cheese and a New York Times full of images of stockbrokers slapping their foreheards. What a bargain.

As you'll all know, in Sydney today most places are now charging $4 for a regular medium size $3.50 or maybe even a bit less if you're in a competitive area like the CBD). For a good coffee in a weird spot, like say, the Toby's Estate across from Victoria Park Pool - it's $4.50 for a not-small take away. If you're soy drinker, that's right, welcome to the scary world of needing notes for your morning caffeine fix.

And all this despite the fact the media tells us Sydney has the cheapest Caps of the three big capital cities - with a regular takeaway averaging $3.06.

So how did this happen? Somewhere along the way crazy American Starbucks prices stabilised and Aussie prices kept going up and up.
Well the strong Aussie dollar has a lot to do with it, as does rising milk and bean prices. But Aussies have also got a lot more discerning in their taste for coffee, and have been willing to pay more for it. Near my work I used to get a great Lavazza from a Chinese takeaway for $2.80. Then a Toby's Estate opened up. Damn it was good coffee, and everyone, perhaps suffering from a mild case of affluenza, was willing to pay a little bit more for a really good cup. Then the dodgy cheap Chinese takeaway closed down. And if someone else moved in, they'd look at the price everyone else was charging and join the $4 club.

I really shouldn't complain. I spent fifteen months travelling the world, visited nine countries and I realise now I think Australia probably has the best coffee of anywhere in the world. But when a three coffee a day habit starts costing fifteen bucks - it's time to get a plunger.

Signed, Grandpa "Back-in-my-day" Stooge.

Victoria Park Pool is a heated outdoor council pool, open for swimming twelve months of the year. Take that Toronto and your free three-month-a-year-ers!

I've been coming here for almost twenty years since I was in primary school. And I keep coming here thanks to it's location - right next to Sydney uni at the King St/City Road and Parramatta Road/Broadway Junction - which makes it close to both Glebe, Newtown and my work in Ultimo. And unlike a lot of other council pools, it's in a nice outdoorsy park and isn't overly chlorinated. And they have a gym.

And now it's daylight savings and it's spring, swimming after work is amazing.

It's a lame thing to miss and love about Sydney, but Vic Park Pool was one of them. Swimming is a great form of exercise and this is a nice pool - I almost feel like I'm wasting my weekend if I don't go for a swim these days.

Sure, the beach is nice - but the water is too damn cold this time of year!

No, it was the fact that, ironically, unlike the ironically titled Well Connected cafe next door (one of the first internet cafes in Sydney), The Fair Trade Cafe actually had wi-fi.

The Shady Pines Saloon, tucked away in a back alley in Darlinghurst, is not only a revelation in authentic, wild west speakeasy aesthetics, it's also a revelation in showing Sydney can do hidden novelty bars as good as New York. It's also building a solid following (with line ups unfortunatelty), and not in the usual Sydney way which involves launch parties with big name DJs and celebrity nobodies posing for pictures by the pool. It's website even boasts of the fact it doesn't take private bookings or exclusive hires (except for Willie Nelson). It's building solid hype due solely to the blogosphere, bar reviews and word of mouth.

First up: the look. You do literally feel like you've walked into the Hill Valley Saloon in 1885 Hill Valley ala Back To The Future 3. Everything down to the fittings and the furniture look authentically anitiquey, and thank god. Cause the odd thing sticking out (like say Lady Gaga playing on the stereo) would turn this into a kitsch cheesy simulacra. Oh it's still kitsch alright, but it's authentic kitsch and not dumb, cash in kitsch.

Secondly: the drinks. These guys know their stuff. I asked about pale ales and got blown away by their range and knowledge of Aussie microbrews I'd never heard of. If you want a VB, go elsewhere. If you like to drink whiskey during the day, this is your new home. Start redirecting mail now.

Of course being the bunch of novelty seekers us Sydneysiders are, everyone will go once just so they can say they've been. But this place feels like it deserves more than that and hopefully will be around for ages. Long enough even for them to open up a noughties themed retro bar next door, which will undoubtedly have bloggers raving about their authentic plasma screens, VB and Lady Gaga music.

To put it in perspective, we have quite possibly the most expensive movie admission prices in the world. From vague memory seeing a first run movie was about $13 in New York (US$10.50), $14 in London (£8) and if you went on a Tuesday, $4.40 in Toronto (C$4). I even saw a Bollywood movie in India for 30 rupees (75 cents).

Sydney - really. What the fuck?

And they wonder why we're downloading movies. You wouldn't steal a car - you wouldn't steal a handbag. True, but the cost of cars and handbags hasn't doubled in the last decade, the cost of cars has in fact largely come down.

On an aside, tickets to next months Sydney Film Festival haven't gone up and this year are a comparatively reasonable $17 (Or $13.50 if you buy a 10 pass). So screw the chains, go see some art house crap ahead of time for cheaper, and support our arts organisations.

In Melbourne too, no one probably cares. I bet it's on page 14 in The Age, next to the ad for a new slow-core, shoe-gazing post-folk gig at the community cafe latte gallery (with potato cakes) - accessible by privatised public transport.

Rugby League is a predominantly New South Welshmans infatuation (the league itself was called the NSWRL up until as recently as 1994), and the rest of the country is pretty much Aussie Rules dominated (except with the World Cup is on, and then we all love football football - or soccer as Americans call it).

And with a second Sydney AFL team on the way, the Melbourne Storm fiasco could possibly send a lot of League converts back to other codes in all the southern states. So get ready for a return of the North Sydney Bears! And heaven forbid The Footy Show and Matty Johns might have to actually say something for a change!

Keep loving your Rugby League Sydneysiders, you're the only ones.

The best thing about Rugby League remains Tina Turner's brief infatuation with the sport in 1989/1990 as demonstrated in this spontaneous show of appreciation:

And Rugby League player aren't known for their political stances either, as Mal Meninga shows us:

Located at the back of Central Station and with upstairs accommodation, you get a few country bumpkins setting foot inside Sydney's home of funk - which is exactly what this is. Free funk and blues/roots music, most nights of the week barring the anti-social ones. In a country where it seems there's more and more cover charges for worse and worse cover bands (oh they played Mr Jones and Two Princes - what a surprise) - The Mac is a haven for original music from talented musicians. Some of my favourite acts like Ray Mann, The Bakery and Extended Family are usually playing here, and the only cover band I can stomach Johnny G & The E Types which plays Stax era Booker T covers with such gusto that Otis Redding would sit in if he was in town. And that's the other secret, thanks to some well connected bookers, The Mac often offers free secret shows from visiting internationals, like Jon Cleary or one of Harry Connick Jr's horn players.

The newly renovated and opened venue upstairs, The Raval probably deserves it's own entry - but it's such a secret, great spot I'm afraid to talk about it too much for fear more people will discover it. It's like the parlour room of an old rich French uncle from the 19th century - all antique couches, chandeliers and stained glass. This is the kind of venue The Basement wishes it was - all class. It's such a good venue you don't care who's playing - you just want to take interstate guests their to drink absinthe and impress them and pretend it's your own private club. Make any excuse to go check it out.

Oh and if you need another excuse to visit - they brew their own beer!

But when it opened however (was it 2003 or 2004?), it was nothing short of revelatory. The term "indie club" have never really been heard before in Sydney, and punters were confused. "A club? That plays nothing but indie? Surely they must have a few nights a week of hard house? Hmphwhwt!" people would remark.

It really helped kick-start an era in Sydney. And god bless it, it hasn't changed since.

Since the closing of The Hopetoun Hotel it's also pretty much the default small venue for up-and-coming and unknown interstate bands.

The reason I'm picking it however, is it's reliability. There's pretty much nowhere else to go out on a Friday or a Saturday night for a cheap, late night dance with a decent crowd (i.e. not all rich 18 year olds). And the music policy, while at times erratic, usually centres on lots of cheeky old retro, and you can usually be guaranteed at least one Bowie song. I DJ'd here once and basically just played The Rushmore soundtrack - and the crowd lapped it up.

Viva le Spectrum!