LIFE ON THE ROAD:THE DAILY BREW
I am a certifiable coffee snob. Nothing ruins a perfectly good day more than a bad brew. I’ve gone to all lengths to get a good cup of coffee in the morning. Especially while traveling. Even on long distance hikes and multi-week bike tours, Peter and I will carry the extra weight to have a decent cup of joe to start each grueling day. I seek out unique local cafe’s wherever I am in the world. There are favorite spots I return to each year. Unfortunately, they are usually too far from the hotel to visit in the morning when I really want that smooth, cream-topped americano. It’s a daily ritual I just can’t live without.
For years I’d lug french press, ground coffee, hot pot and mug with me wherever I traveled. I would search out coffee cream at the local grocery store because milk does nothing but pollute a good cup of joe in my opinion (others would say the same about cream).
Time has mellowed me, however, resulting in a more relaxed approach to the travels I do with the speed skating team. A few years ago I decided to try a two week trip to Germany and Norway without any ritualistic aids. I survived and realized in most places in Europe, it is possible to find an acceptable brew. Well, at least something good enough not to make me mad so early in the morning. Mad? Yes, bad coffee makes me angry. This may seem like an exaggeration but seriously, this coffee thing is muy-importante to yours truly.
Which brings me to this morning in Norway. I’m sipping a most excellent three or four dollar (still not sure of the kroner-dollar conversion) little cup of love from the machine in the hotel lobby. This, topped with some of the four dollar tiny little carton of coffee cream (or kaffee flote) and I am smitten. Why so happy? I discovered that for an extra two dollars, I can get a refill! Yes, that makes approximately seven dollars per day for this habit of mine. This may not seem like a lot when one considers the pricey tag on any selection from the Starbuck menu. When scale is taken into account, however, it’s an outrageous fee for the smallest americano.
And yes, there is free coffee at the breakfast buffet. There is a price for happiness after all.
At this point, almost three weeks in to another European speed skating adventure, I begin to dream of home. Not so much my own bed, privacy and a home cooked meal; rather I can’t stop thinking about my stainless steel espresso machine and freshly roasted local beans. Home is where the good stuff is and I can’t wait for that first morning, even if it’s a jet-lag induced early 4 am awakening. Much of the coffee addiction for me lies in the ritual of making it. The sound of the machine pumping and pulling and extracting stimulates my sleeping senses and begins the energy flow from brain to body each day. I can guarantee myself the perfect ratio of espresso and hot water, and know my cream is organic.
It’s the little things in life that set the tone for each day in my very sheltered athlete’s world. I can only hope they have an espresso bar planned for the athlete’s village in Vancouver!!
