my oasis

Coffee is high up on my ‘essential’ list. I’m not necessarily proud of this fact as I’ve also made it my goal to daily live free of any addictions or requirements. But for coffee, I made an exception. I blame this (wonderful and glorious) addiction on my loves of 1371, and our twice a day visits to starbucks. Of course, the fact that the Turner family might actually have coffee instead of blood coursing through their veins does not help the need for caffeine either. Bottom line, I love love love getting coffee. I love the whole experience, the smell of it, the decision of what form of coffee will delightfully dance upon your tastebuds, the taste of it, the conversation the develops around it, the entire encounter of it all. I’m even okay with the coffee breath that follows. Yep, that’s a hint of the deep abyss that is my love of coffee. Its deep…and wide.

Not going to lie, during the whole application process there was a tiny piece of me that was hesitant. Yes, I have some incredibly fantastic people in my life and a wonderful family. But the hesitation was not in relation to leaving or missing them. It defiantly was not because of fear of the unknown, or distain of traveling, or the challenge of adaptation, or even the threat and risk of challenge, growth and change.

Simply put- it was coffee. Sweet sweet nectar of life that is coffee. I knew that by moving to India, I would be giving up the designer coffee that I loved so much. Good for the bank account maybe, but bad for my soul. Very bad. Trust me, it was a tough decision. I think that there is one starbucks in the vast country of India. And it is in Bombay. Which is a long way away from Kerala. Don’t think I didn’t look into it, but even I can’t justify the cost of a latte plus the plane ticket. It’s just a little too much. So I sucked it up (all for the kids of course) and moved to the land of sugary chai sans starbucks.

I’ve been here over a month. The withdrawal has been brutal. I’ve had it all, the shakes, the sweats, the night terrors, even the hallucinations of white and green cups shimmering off in the horizon. I didn’t think I could make it. I was literally watching my world crumble around me. I had the return ticket home and directions to the nearest starbucks already planned out. It was just too hard.

Until. Salvation. In coffee form. A wonderful little island in a sea of despair and distain. A designer coffee shop. And not just that. An air conditioned oasis with extremely fancy drinks, leather chairs and even American music. And ice cream. It’s like starbucks met cold stone and made sweet sweet love, and this shop was their beautiful offspring. Heaven. Home. It’s official, I can stay in India. I can work with HIV/AIDS. I can do what I came here to do. All because of coffee. I already have plans to be in a leather chair at least once a week. I am okay that an espresso, chocolate and hazelnut explosion of delightfulness costs me more than five times the bus ride to arrive there. I embrace it. And will continue to do so for the next eight months. True love. And that is the story of why I will remain in India.