Coffee to Stay
Hi friends, I spent some time this week looking through the archives of newsletters I have written over the past year. A whole year. I, for one, am impressed with myself, and I even feel like making myself a cake or something special to celebrate. I find it very hard to stick with any one thing for too long. I usually shrug and say, “oh well, I guess it wasn’t that important”. But these newsletters—this dedicated moment of touching base with my community, with you all, has become such a pleasure. I have so many plans, and visions, and dreams for this little corner of the internet, and I am so eager to continue sharing it all with you. I hope you continue to enjoy my stories as we cross into this new (sparkly! hopefully fun!) year. If you can, please spread the word. Tell your friends, upgrade yourself to paid subscriber status, and truly, thank you for being here.
I came across this piece I had originally written last February, and I thought it would be appropriate to re-publish it as we approach a time of year that can sometimes be hectic. May we all remember to take a moment (or three) to ourselves in this season, spend some time reflecting (or not), and recharging.
All of my love to you!
-Maya
I think it’s time to look ourselves straight in the face and question why we take our coffees to go.
I'll always remember, in 2012, I was catching an early train from Rome to Florence, and I stopped into a little cafe below my hotel. I pulled my rolling suitcase through the doors, frantically approaching the counter, while the Roman patrons sitting at tables calmly read their morning papers with breakfast. “I'd like a cappuccino and a nutella bomboloni please”. With care, the barista took my euros, placed a bomboloni on a piece of smooth waxed paper. He frothed the milk, aerating it with veteran precision. I checked my watch as espresso was extracted into a porcelain cup. I was going to be late for my train.
I asked the barista if he could please make my coffee to go, and he looked at me with the deepest confusion in his eyes. I proceeded, “You know, in a cup I can take with me?”, and it was then that he understood, searching for something to put this beautifully-crafted cappuccino into. He held up the flimsiest plastic cup I've ever seen (we're talking the kind you get at the dentist's office to wash your mouth out with) and tipped his work of art into it. I wedged the cup, already warping from the heat of the coffee, between two fingers, and I went on my way. I tugged my rolling suitcase over cobblestoned streets, balancing the tinycup™ of coffee with every jolt and groove. Would it survive the cold and turbulent journey? It was at a crosswalk that I finally gave up, and took a sip of coffee, followed by a bite of the bomboloni I had hurriedly bought. Creamy Nutella and doughy warm pastry smushed around delightfully in my mouth. I cut it with a few more sips of coffee. It was in that moment of pause that I had an epiphany. Coffee is certainly not a thing to enjoy to-go. That cappuccino and heavenly bomboloni were meant for a table, and to be enjoyed whilst listening to the layers of the local morning sounds, and possibly, even reading that book I'd been lugging around Italy for a week and hadn't opened yet.
Coffee is more than just a cup of roasted and extracted beans. It, and it's accompaniments--a little vessel of milk, [cookies, friends (!)], are the experience. It's a moment to slow down, to take inventory, to have gratitude. A warm beverage is a vehicle to companionship. There's a reason that half of the series “FRIENDS” takes place in Central Perk. It creates common ground [pun intended], it gives us something to do with our hands, and, it most importantly, allows us to connect with our humanity.
Coffee is a chance to gather, and many cultures are not foreign to this. Take Sweden. Swedes have fika. Fika loosely means coffee break, however, it is not just about consuming a coffee and getting on with your day. Fika encourages a certain way of life. It’s an excuse, every day, to gather, and socialize with others, for more than the time it takes to fill your coffee cup in the break room. It’s taking a real moment in time to sit squarely in the day, and pay attention to all of its small nuances. A fika is not complete without a sweet or two, and is most always done with friends.
So, I hope you may join me, or someone, for a coffee soon, and have it in a real mug, somewhere nice. Let's find every excuse to come together, and live more intentionally.