Just over a month after returning to Canada I found myself stumbling into a coffee shop around the corner from my family's home. Frustrated by the daunting day of job searching, my agitation increased as my glasses, made almost frozen from the frigid Canadian temperature outside, instantly fogged up upon walking into the warm shop. After attempting to wipe my glasses clear, I impatiently put them back on before the fog had fully lifted. New to the coffee shop, I glanced at the blends available and my spirits instantly lifted when I found "Ethiopian-Yirgachefe" scribbled on the list in pink chalk.
People always say that your senses-- taste, smell and sound in particular-- can take you back to a precise moment or feeling. I couldn't agree with them more. The distinct taste of Ethiopian coffee alone is enough to bring me back to morning coffees with my coworker, the coffee ceremonies performed on special occasions like NewYears or the countless small coffee houses where we would stop while traveling between Addis and Yabello ( 565km/ 12+hours by car) to visit Oxfam project sites.
The taste reminded me of how on our first trips I would timidly ask what was happening when we seemed to arbitrarily pull over on the side of the road. I quickly learned to stop asking. Oxfam's driver always had our best interest in mind and 9/10 times coffee was involved. To the untrained eye, many of the stops would appear to be in the middle of nowhere, our driver always knew where to find the best coffee. More than that he always knew the women who ran the coffee houses and all about their families. I became accustom to the smiles he was greeted with and the laughter he would generate every where he went. Colleagues from Canada would joke that he should be a politician as he had infinite connections and seemed at home wherever he went in the country.
One of his favorite stops on the trip to Yabello was Yirgachefe. The coffee house was like most others on our journey. Patrons sat on short wooden stools to drink their expresso sized coffee out of handless mugs. The smell of fresh traditionally brewed coffee mixed with burning incense sat heavy in the thin mountain air.
My colleagues would always say that "Yirgachefe has the Best coffee in Ethiopia", and as a result would haul up to 5kg's of raw beans back to Addis for friends and family to roast.
Yet, more than the coffee itself when I hear Yirgachefe I remember the first trip I made to the South, only a few weeks into my time in Ethiopia. Anyone who has lived in or visited a country where the mother tongue is not your first language will understand the "lets laugh at him/her trying to say hard words" conversation (Like non-native English speakers trying to say 'Aluminum' or if you are really mean 'Sally sells seashells down by the seashore'). For my Ethiopian colleagues there favorite word to have me say was Yirgachefe with its rolling 'r' immediately followed by a dry 'g' they honestly couldn't get enough of my struggle, to the point that tear filled contagious laughter characterized almost an hour of that trip.
So today, thousands of miles away from Ethiopia, I sat in a cozy Canadian coffee shop peering at the cold outside. I felt fortunate to have the memories of my time in Ethiopia. It reminded me that we carry our experiences with us and they largely shape our perspectives and who we are as individuals in a larger world. So while I am no longer physically in Ethiopia, I sure hope my senses will continue to jolt me back to that part of my recent past. It is for these experiences as well as how they mix into my life back in Canada that I travel; to see and experience new things but also to shift my perspective and see something 'old' in an entirely 'new' light, like the coffee shop around the corner.
Steph xx
People always say that your senses-- taste, smell and sound in particular-- can take you back to a precise moment or feeling. I couldn't agree with them more. The distinct taste of Ethiopian coffee alone is enough to bring me back to morning coffees with my coworker, the coffee ceremonies performed on special occasions like NewYears or the countless small coffee houses where we would stop while traveling between Addis and Yabello ( 565km/ 12+hours by car) to visit Oxfam project sites.
The taste reminded me of how on our first trips I would timidly ask what was happening when we seemed to arbitrarily pull over on the side of the road. I quickly learned to stop asking. Oxfam's driver always had our best interest in mind and 9/10 times coffee was involved. To the untrained eye, many of the stops would appear to be in the middle of nowhere, our driver always knew where to find the best coffee. More than that he always knew the women who ran the coffee houses and all about their families. I became accustom to the smiles he was greeted with and the laughter he would generate every where he went. Colleagues from Canada would joke that he should be a politician as he had infinite connections and seemed at home wherever he went in the country.
One of his favorite stops on the trip to Yabello was Yirgachefe. The coffee house was like most others on our journey. Patrons sat on short wooden stools to drink their expresso sized coffee out of handless mugs. The smell of fresh traditionally brewed coffee mixed with burning incense sat heavy in the thin mountain air.
My colleagues would always say that "Yirgachefe has the Best coffee in Ethiopia", and as a result would haul up to 5kg's of raw beans back to Addis for friends and family to roast.
Yet, more than the coffee itself when I hear Yirgachefe I remember the first trip I made to the South, only a few weeks into my time in Ethiopia. Anyone who has lived in or visited a country where the mother tongue is not your first language will understand the "lets laugh at him/her trying to say hard words" conversation (Like non-native English speakers trying to say 'Aluminum' or if you are really mean 'Sally sells seashells down by the seashore'). For my Ethiopian colleagues there favorite word to have me say was Yirgachefe with its rolling 'r' immediately followed by a dry 'g' they honestly couldn't get enough of my struggle, to the point that tear filled contagious laughter characterized almost an hour of that trip.
So today, thousands of miles away from Ethiopia, I sat in a cozy Canadian coffee shop peering at the cold outside. I felt fortunate to have the memories of my time in Ethiopia. It reminded me that we carry our experiences with us and they largely shape our perspectives and who we are as individuals in a larger world. So while I am no longer physically in Ethiopia, I sure hope my senses will continue to jolt me back to that part of my recent past. It is for these experiences as well as how they mix into my life back in Canada that I travel; to see and experience new things but also to shift my perspective and see something 'old' in an entirely 'new' light, like the coffee shop around the corner.
Steph xx
