It took me about six and half months to like coffee.
I came to Paris with two challenges ahead of me. Coffee and Smoke.
Could I survive living in Paris without becoming addicted to both? That was the question ( and a bet with a certain Mr. Marold).
It all started when I made French friends. Wherever we go, it's always a sea of coffee in a halo of smokes.
You sit in a little french café, and you have to order something. But I don't want anything. That's fine, just order coffee. That's how it works here. So, I gave in, and ordered coffee. Just un café.
I hated it.
I said to myself, damn it, you don't have to be that cheap and get the cheapest thing on the menu, try and get the second cheapest. Un allongé, s'il vous plait. And that was it. Just a little more sugar and it was good to go.
I liked coffee.
I am not addicted (yet?), but I like it. I go to cafés and order coffee now because I want to.
Don't worry mum, I don't smoke. This is just coffee, okay? Relax.
I keep telling myself that it wasn't all peer pressure that it's…. it's part of the culture, it's how you blend in the society, isn't it?