Hopping around the world

An unreliable analysis of beer service and consumption across three continents.

Cracking a beer is a beautiful thing. Call it well-considered product design or some higher universal truth, one thing is certain: opening a beer is one of life’s simple pleasures. Like many Australian travellers, we love a beer, especially when there’s a good view, a sunset or interesting humans to observe.

Drawing upon anecdotal evidence, the following chapters will examine the service and consumption of beer in three cities, with a focus on culture, people and climate.

While we have a sufficient sample size for substantive qualitative analysis (we drank a lot of beer), we are mostly talking out of our arses.

1. San Juan del Sur : La Guerra contra Condensación

We arrived in San Juan del Sur just before Santa Semana, one of the biggest religious festivals in Latin America. At this time, Nicaragua’s cities empty as families head to the beach for barbeques, music and beer drinking.

In the late afternoon, we went to one of the bars along the beachfront. After coming down from the mountains in neighbouring Costa Rica, we were feeling the heat. Thankfully, the beers were cold, and unlike in Costa Rica, they were also cheap. We ordered two of the local Toñas and settled in for a boozy sunset.

Toña - San Juan del Sur

Soon enough, one beer became three. There were no coasters, so between each round, the bar staff would wipe the table with a microfibre towel. Initially, we thought this process seemed inefficient, even slightly intrusive.

In time, we grew accustomed to the incessant table wiping, which would sometimes occur mid-beer, and took full advantage by engaging in conversation with bartenders to practise our Spanish. This would occur in most bars, and Leisa aptly coined the term “Nicaragua’s war on condensation”.

In another attempt to keep the enemy at bay, Nicaraguan bartenders would wrap a paper napkin around the beer bottle before serving. Sometimes they would tuck the napkin inside itself like a little neckerchief. Meanwhile, we would stand at the bar awkwardly, watching them dress the beer.

After receiving our beers and removing said napkins, we would just as quickly watch them get blown away down the beach. We would later surmise that these napkins were given so you could wipe, or sanitise, the bottle before consumption.

While these observations may seem trivial, they represent a significant cultural difference between Latin America and our home country, Australia. In Australia, we’re generally laid-back, but we don’t like to be bothered, and we value our privacy. We also tend to value efficiency when it comes to transactions.

In Latin America, it felt like human interaction was paramount, with efficiency being a distant second. But in a world increasingly dominated by smartphones and social isolation, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing?

2. Hanoi: Together ~ Alone

Like most Southeast Asian cities, drinking a beer in Hanoi is accessible and cheap. If you want bang for your buck, look no further than bia hoi ~ fresh beer. Not only is bia hoi cheap (usually between 30-50 cents), it's also a great opportunity to be among locals.

We first experienced bia hoi under a railway bridge in Hanoi’s old quarter. Squatting down on tiny plastic stools, we could barely hear over the traffic streaming past. Thankfully, there was only one beer on the menu, and we would simply indicate the quantity with our fingers. Soon enough, we were putting away beers with dangerous efficiency.

All the clientele were older men, and every interaction warranted a cheers, or at the very least, a man hug. This male affection reminded us of our mates on the piss back home.

Gazing out into the peak-hour traffic flowing under the bridge, we soon realised this bar was also hosting a ‘VIP’ party on the other side of the busy road. The student-aged waiter would fill as many glasses with bia hoi as he could fit onto his wide silver tray. He would then begin his dance: weaving through thick moped traffic to deliver multiple rounds to a table of 20 businessmen.

Bia Hoi - Hanoi

As the male revelry unfolded around us, we noticed a trendy cafe up the road. The cafe had a chic interior, with bleached-haired baristas and young people sipping matcha lattes. In contrast to uninhibited drunken affection, their clientele was silent and stuck in a digital stupor, seemingly lulled by social anxiety, vanity, dopamine addiction and digital marketing – at least, this was our perception, after a few beers.

When Leisa was researching cafes in Hanoi on Google, she’d see (translated) comments that talked more about the space's Instagram suitability than the coffee itself. There’s a reasonable assumption that cheap lager, drunk old men, and awkward Australians don’t make the best content for young Vietnamese influencers.

This generational shift from alcohol to social media is not isolated to Hanoi. In our mid-thirties, it can feel like we’re caught somewhere in between and, as such, can see two sides to the coin. Be it alcoholism or online addiction, both behaviours have negative externalities with long-term consequences.

But in this moment, we much preferred drinking bia hoi with old men. Despite the uncomfortable seating and splashback from passing trucks, they were together and connecting. Their younger counterparts were together, and except for the occasional photo ~ alone.

3. Darwin: Stubby Cooler Retirement

Last year we moved to Darwin. Arriving at the start of the wet season, we spent a lot of time sweating, irritable, and staring at turquoise croc-infested water we couldn’t swim in. Locals affectionately refer to this condition as ‘going troppo’. If you told a doctor this, they’d probably prescribe you a cold beer. But in this climate, a beer won’t stay cold without adequate protection.

The first time we visited (what would later become) our favourite bar – Dinah Beach Cruising Yacht Association, we noticed stubby coolers in a crate hanging off the customer side of the bar. We were visiting Darwin on holiday and must have looked like out-of-towners.

Dinah Beach - Beers

One of the bar staff said, “Having a beer in Darwin without a stubby cooler is like eating a pie without sauce”. At the time, we passed this off as humour for tourists. Now we live here, we realise she was deadly serious.

At the Darwin Ski Club, you can buy stubby coolers designed for schooners. Even one of Darwin’s most beloved topless bartenders has her line of stubby cooler merch. Although you can find stubby coolers throughout Australia, nowhere are they as prevalent as in Darwin.

It’s not only stubby coolers. Darwin establishments are well stocked in all kinds of Top End paraphernalia. Be it a magnet, a crocodile hat, or a fishing shirt with a pixelated barramundi leaping from the water – Darwin pubs, tourist shops and roadhouses have it all.

Every stubby cooler tells a story. Like many Darwin residents, stubby coolers are transient in nature. They’re an object you would never discard, but rather, leave at someone’s house, or take on holiday to a tropical paradise. As a result, you’ll end up with random assortments like Rhonda’s 60th, Kulgera Roadhouse or Gladstone Smash Repairs.

Given their practical application, it could be plausible to assert that stubby coolers migrate to warmer climates. Maybe Darwin is a place where stubby coolers come to retire? After all, it's hot and the end of the line. Or maybe we’ve just had too many beers at the time of writing, and are being overly sentimental about an inanimate object?

Needless to say, stubby coolers are quintessential Darwin, and a must-have for its sweaty, irritable, but always discerning beer drinkers.