![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sechan19I recently made a pact with my good friend, A., to meet for morning coffee and studying. She's working on her thesis research, and I - nearly done now with the pressing concerns of a bi-coastal move - have been organizing my language tools and going over the first two years of my Japanese courses. This step has set a positive tone to my days, getting me up early and into activity quickly so that I need not feel idle or ineffectual.
Our first meeting took place at an urban-chic cafe in the heart of the city, and it was perfectly adequate. This morning, however, we headed out a bit into the suburban sprawl to a place called Damascus Coffee Shop where they make Turkish Coffee and other delicacies. A. had discovered it by chance earlier in the week and was sufficiently enthusiastic about it to intrigue me into requesting we give it a try.
I ordered the flower tea, as I am not a coffee drinker (although I plan to try Turkish coffee for a lark), and I was utterly delighted by the beverage. The tea was served in a stately yet delicate clear teapot that allowed me to see the full flower that was dropped in. Over time, as it steeped, the flower was saturated with liquids. It opened, pulsated, and unfurled gorgeous red plumes. The experience of this flower opening and blooming into life felt very much like a symbolic emblem for me. I feel that my life, rich as it has been, is now blooming into its true and greatest shape.
Our first meeting took place at an urban-chic cafe in the heart of the city, and it was perfectly adequate. This morning, however, we headed out a bit into the suburban sprawl to a place called Damascus Coffee Shop where they make Turkish Coffee and other delicacies. A. had discovered it by chance earlier in the week and was sufficiently enthusiastic about it to intrigue me into requesting we give it a try.
I ordered the flower tea, as I am not a coffee drinker (although I plan to try Turkish coffee for a lark), and I was utterly delighted by the beverage. The tea was served in a stately yet delicate clear teapot that allowed me to see the full flower that was dropped in. Over time, as it steeped, the flower was saturated with liquids. It opened, pulsated, and unfurled gorgeous red plumes. The experience of this flower opening and blooming into life felt very much like a symbolic emblem for me. I feel that my life, rich as it has been, is now blooming into its true and greatest shape.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-29 01:11 pm (UTC)The Turkish coffee is actually really good.
It is similar to Greek coffee, in that the grounds will be in the cup.
Its not at all bitter like Greek coffee - but it is very strong.
Andrew makes the best coffee there, but he is only working on Friday now.
(He took up a job teaching kids music).
There is a balding gentleman who is clueless (he forgets to put white chocolate in a white mocha).
The owner is very cool, and is also skilled at the coffee he makes.
I have yet to have a flower tea - but i really can't wait to give it a try =)