I have no problem admitting I am coffee addict. I cannot function without two cups working within my system; without those two cups, I’m as worthless as the Tin Man without his oil can. One cup will not do. My mouth can move after one cup, but limbs move only after two cups. These days, I have to keep them oiled with a third afternoon cup.
When I was in Italy, I devoured the strong dark liquid locals claimed was coffee. The texture was like the red clay of the Carolinas, yet dark brown in color. If I stopped stirring my coffee, the spoon would not fall and clink against the side of the mug. No, the spoon would stand at attention, waiting for me to continue to stir thick cream into the mixture or to remove it to a saucer. The coffee would roll down my throat, slowly, like molasses being poured out of a jar. The taste was divine.
The side of effect, full body wake up, was a necessity when studying aboard with a very energetic and enthusiastic professor who powered us through 10 hour daily marches of sightseeing. Fueled by coffee, I was able to keep up with my professor through two Italian study aboard adventures. I saw amazing things, made wonderful friends, and received more than a text book education. The second time I went to Italy with this professor, I was able to go to Venice.