In the midst of the endless expanse, en route to the northern tip of Greece, the sun slowly dips into the sleek line of the horizon.
The winding road leads through increasingly higher hills and elevations, warm, though no longer the typical Greek heat that makes it hard for a Southeast Polish European to breathe.
You’re on the road trip of a lifetime with friends, traveling in an age-old Volkswagen Transporter – the so-called „cucumber,” modified for just such an adventure. It’s magical – the 1.1-liter gasoline engine generates a dizzying power of 25 HP and emits a smooth, pleasant – almost meditative sound. You’re young, beautiful, and treat every inconvenience with carefreeness and a sense that everything you encounter is an adventure. Life is beautiful.
Next stop – a gas station. You get out of the car and stretch lazily. The place looks shabby, but it has its charm. After all, you’re surrounded by such wonderful terrain and people you love. A pack for life, without a doubt. You dream, plan, and you already know whose wedding you’ll be best man at, and with whom you’ll start a business that will achieve international success. Years later, you’ll be celebrating that success right here – at this station.
The day is coming to an end, but in such circumstances, there’s nothing to stop you from having a coffee. After all, you have the whole night ahead of you – no one is going to worry about the half-life of caffeine and sleep quality. You order – or, to be precise, you just buy a coffee. On the old, rusty vending machine, you press the appropriate button and wait for the pitch-black drink without a trace of cream to fill the gray, paper cup. You take a sip and it almost turns you inside out. Terrible Robusta. Tastes like tar. The best in the world.
17 years pass. You’re sitting at a table in an exclusive cafe. Every detail has been carefully considered, and the atmosphere of luxury, comfort, and authenticity of Italian coffee culture surrounds you. A black, polished granite bar, and behind it, a three-group FAEMA E71E-3. Temple of espresso. Haven of classic aromas. The scent of peace, the scent of success.
Waiter delivers a cup of pure blood doppio, with a 100 ml glass of crystal clear water. Of course, without sugar – let’s have some respect. You expect an explosion of your taste buds and an unusual body, but the coffee tastes somehow… normal.
Could it be because you’re waiting for the lawyer who will handle your divorce case? Of the old friends, you only have outdated contacts in your phone or dead accounts on Facebook, and you miss that vile, coffee-like sludge you indulged in with them on the road to the Greek Meteors?
Because coffee doesn’t matter. No matter how much we’ve prided ourselves in thinking that we’ve extracted everything possible from it. That we’ve elevated its cultivation, preparation, and tasting to a completely new level. Coffee is all about the people we drink it with and everything that happens around it. The rest is just a more or less tasty brew.
matt