The way of coffee

 

These past two weeks have been dreary with days and nights of continuous rain.  It's the monsoon and typhoon months in this part of the planet.  Days are mostly this depressing grayness and wetness, and it has been quite a struggle to get out of bed and move around in the morning.  The dog wakes you up as early as 5:30, or a few minutes before 6 a.m., and you simply have no choice but to wear your jeans and belt, clear your own bladder, put on her body strap and clip the leash onto it, and make sure that you grab the keys and umbrella before leaving the house.  Your eyes have such a difficult time keeping their lids open even in the overcast morning light, and your mind is still cloudy from watching episodes of this family drama series, or from listening (and eventually falling asleep) to all these full-length albums that you have downloaded from the internet.

Good thing that it's a weekend.  And those work-related matters can still wait until Monday.  Dirty clothes can be washed later, when the sun is up.  Nothing to do but go through that stack of books on the table, think more deeply about what you have just read, and do your military calisthenics and abdominal exercises.  Had to go out late in the afternoon to procure some supplies and grocery items, but other than that short trip, and a few minutes of preparing that bowl of oats, boiling eggs, and cleaning and cooking the broccoli stems, there were no other major tasks today.  At the mall, before doing one's grocery run, had a chance to visit this secondhand book stall on the second floor.  There were some interesting titles - a biography of Dave Grohl, a diary of a bookshop owner, a scifi (or fantasy?) novel by Niven and Pournelle - but did not feel the urge to spend Php 90 to 350 of salary for the period to buy even one.  Just decided to eat at this favorite spot, Arroz Ecija, near the grocery.  Had the favorite dish: pinakbet with a piece of milkfish or bangus.  A glass of cold (and sweet) calamansi juice.

Back to black coffee this morning.  It was a good decision to buy the coffee press a few weeks ago.  The coffeemaker (coffee grinder) makes more cups of coffee than one should be consuming in a day (which brings some palpitations and headaches later), and turns off soon as it is done with the filtering (so you end up drinking cold, bitter cups of black coffee after that first cup.  Pouring hot water slowly over that good-smelling powder, waiting a few minutes for steeping, and taking those short pauses as you press down the filter to let soaked coffee grounds finally settle at the bottom of the glass have also become a sort of quick meditation period for the mind.  Maybe something akin to a Japanese tea ceremony.  Chanoyu or Chadō (The Way of Tea).  Only this time, it's the way of coffee.  The sharp but subtle sound of hot water being poured into the coffee press mingling with that of the rain outside, Leonard Cohen's songs in his Old Ideas album, and one's breathing (with those slight pains on the side of the chest and lower back during exhales; perhaps from the previous days' workout or from the unfamiliarity of sleeping supine on the bed).  Everything culminating in that bitter taste on the mouth, and warmth in the belly.