Breakfast of Champions

Alright, this has officially been a decadent vacation. All we have done is eat and drink, then complain about how full we are and how sick it feels, and then, a few hours later, we deliberate on where our next meal will be, and then we eat some and drink some more, and then, bitch yet again.

Before we went to bed last night, Kitty and Lindy decided they wanted pancakes and so today we are off on a walking tour to The Rocks, where the restaurant, Pancakes on The Rocks is located.

A word on the locale. The Rocks is the oldest preserved colonial district of Sydney. When the first British fleet under the command of Captain Arthur Phillip arrived here in 1788 along with 700 Irish convicts, they all settled on The Rocks. Nestled at the foot of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, The Rocks is Australia's birthplace. This oldest area of Sydney had recently undergone an amazing metamorphosis, the old district having been transformed into vibrant pockets of restaurants, cafes, and pubs. All this had been done under the strict supervision of the Heritage Conservation Society so that The Rocks' old world charm and character is very much alive.

We had a leisurely walk around the area, starting off at Circular Quay, padding slowly past the Museum of Contemporary Art, stopping occasionally and gawking at the Opera House directly across the harbor. We chanced upon Sydney's oldest pub, and we browsed around quaint patisseries, much like those in Austria's old town.

And then we ate, aaaaaagain. We had tandoori chicken pizza--to die for, Mexican crepes, and baby back ribs--the best I've tried. I figured that since it was one Bacchanalian feast after another that we were having, I might as well get that champagne cocktail for breakfast. And I sure did. And it felt so good--guilt free actually, until now. I don't know why but I'm having a sudden attack of the conscience. Too late though, the champagne is safe and sound in my belly and has probably gone places by now. It's such a shame that we never got around to ordering pancakes, which is what the place is famous for--thick, fluffy, Belgian pancakes, not life the thin, American ones. Shame, shame!