I get a call this morning from my friend Pria, after the two of us both admit to sleeping in for wayyy too long, she asks me what I'm doing after lunch. We both agree that we'd like to explore our neighborhood of Les Corts a bit more and perhaps do a little more shopping (sidebar---yesterday I finally found a bag large enough to carry my school books without being completely fugly for the low low price of 6.00 euro). Then came the dreaded afterthought, "Maybe we could also grab a cup of coffee," said the Pria. As I've mentioned, my relationship with coffee has been a tumultuous one. My mother has called me a crappy Puerto Rican for swearing off coffee and only drinking tea. However, my mom has very strict rules when it comes to her coffee--she drinks it RIDICULOUSLY strong and with almost no sugar or milk. If I dared to put some sugar in a cup of coffee that she brewed for me, I would never see the light of day (I'm being slightly melodramatic, but things are more fun that way). Here in Spain, I can put as much sugar and milk in my coffee as I'd like. "Hold up," is what you're thinking, "you can do that in the U.S." Ahh, but the one HUGE difference is that American coffee sucks; it really truly does. I add all sorts of things to coffee in the states, and it never tastes very good. In Spain, a cafe con leche is nothing short of heaven. I've come to enjoy my daily coffee whether brewed at home by my host mom or purchased from my fave cafe near my university; however, I always feel guilty after buying a cup of coffee. Will I regret having that third cup at Cafe Caracas in April when I'm trying to purchase souvenirs? Potentially, but for now I'm loving it, and I probably WILL buy a cup when I'm out with Pria later today. One cup can't hurt; I'll just have to limit the number of pastries I consume in conjunction with my coffee.
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| One of my favorite pastries: Ensaimadas |
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