The Jesus Cup.

I’m back at the coffee shop. Another one this time. Rukus Cafe in Newport. My hood. Conveniently located on my way to the bus stop. Rukus – famous for its Jesus Cup: a free cup of coffee for random customers. And it’s me who is going to raise one – ruckus I mean, not Jesus.

Its early Saturday morning. Really early. Like the-sky-is-still-on-fire-from-the-sunrise early. Like the-birds-are-not-yet-done-causing-a-huge-ruckus early. Like I’m-the-first-one-to-order-a-coffee early. That doesn’t create the small commotion though . I got my weird long black down to a T now.

“How are you going?”

Completely focused on the proper coffee order, all I hear is the word ‘going’. Is the barista actually wondering where I am going? Because I AM going somewhere! And I am very happy to share that with him. Or anyone really. I mean, I went from living in a household of seven to staying at a silent retreat cold turkey. I am going through somewhat of a withdrawal when it comes to talking to people. I thirst for conversation. And coffee. But that’s secondary at the moment.

“Well, I’m actually off to the City for the first time to pick up my race bib at the Convention Centre because I’m running the City2Surf race tomorrow and I’m from Canada and it’s really windy today and I hope that tomorrow…”

The look on the barista’s face tells me, that that’s not what he wanted to hear.

“No. I mean what coffee do you want?”

Right. Rukus. Coffee. Jesus Cup. I have a feeling that it won’t be me that will receive the blessing of a free cuppa today. Or ever.

I mumble my order, hand him the bill (still struggling with the coins) and run for the bus. My face probably the colour of the fading red morning sky.

It takes an hour and 33 minutes to get to Downtown Sydney from where I live.

I live in Newport, suburb in Northern Sydney, part of the Northern Peninsula Beaches. The Pacific Ocean on one side, the Pittwater waterway on the other. It takes me 5 minutes to walk to the beach. Or the bus. Or one of the countless cafes, restaurants – or hair salons. There are 10 different hair dressers in a community that has barely 9000 people living in it. 15 cafes. 20 restaurants. All within 400m from each other.

A brand new bus system called the B line takes you along the Pacific shoreline all the way to the heart of the city. Sandy beaches, harbour coves, boats bobbing on the water, rugged cliffs. Mona Vale, Warriewood, Dee Why, Manly Beach… And then – there it is: Sydney Harbour Bridge. The Opera. Sydney Tower.

I spend an hour in the City. Pick up my race bib. Running pants and a buff to brace the cold gusty winds. A free beanie. Another sunhat. Actually two. The obligatory Starbucks mug and an almond croissant while I’m there.

And then I leave. Had enough. Get on the B line. Upper deck, front row and make my way back home. To the beaches, the hair dressers, the cafes. My home from home. I may not ever get that Jesus Cup. But im feeling pretty blessed right now.