Call it a Cafe Croatiano
Turns out I didn't need to worry about drinking too much coffee in Scandinavia. I guess I upped my tolerance enough over the winter. Coffee every morning, a couple cups, more than occasionally another from Starbucks at work, and on my days off while writing in the afternoon. For the first time ever, I made my way through Denmark and Sweden without a whisper of caffeine intoxication. Then I came to Croatia and I met with something so unexpected, something I never would have imagined.
Croatia is a land where plain, old filtered or brewed coffee doesn't exist, at least not in the cafes and restaurants I've been to. In fact, I've yet to see a coffee place that wasn't a bar and restaurant. No chains like those that are ever-present in the U.S. and Scandinavia. No Starbucks, Caribou, Wayne's, Joe and the Juice, etc, etc. No private places like my beloved Lola Savannah back in Austin. Nope. If you want coffee (and free Wifi) you have to go to a cafe or restaurant and seem like a complete douche-bag when the waiter approaches full of hope and good will and all you order is a cafe americano.
Yes, a cafe americano, usually I abbreviate all that to just an americano. What's an americano? The closest thing you'll get to filtered or brewed coffee when filtered and brewed coffee don't exist. Ok, ok, it's a shot of espresso watered down with hot water that supposedly has the same strength as good, old-fashioned brewed coffee. Um...............................Not in Croatia it doesn't. In Croatia, especially the one restaurant I've been frequenting in the old city (Cele's....Shameless plug), an americano is thicker and far more powerful that any brewed coffee I have ever had. And that includes the triple strength stuff the old guy at the Pro Desk used to cook up every morning (You could seriously remove wallpaper with it).
When your first cup comes to the table, you're going to think (I promise you will), I'm paying how much for that little tiny cup of coffee? And no free refill? You'll probably also try to slam that first cup, like it's the first four ounces of your 24 ounce large cup from your local convenience store. Then you might even screw the expense and order a second cup (I mean you're on vacation, right?), because all you've had is a veritably a sip when usually you drink gallons. Ok......about the time that second cup arrives at your table, the caffeine from the first cup is going to hit you, like a shot of tequila on an empty stomach. Suddenly you're buzzed, maybe even a little more than buzzed. There is nothing you can do to prepare for this level of caffeination.
Because this isn't your favorite barrista's cup of coffee. This is coffee on steroids, the everclear of coffee. Order a cafe americano they say. It's the same as brewed coffee. It's not. Not in Croatia anyway.
I can drink pots of brewed coffee back home and never feel as intoxicated as I did this afternoon at lunch when something got lost in translation and I got an iced americano instead of the hot version I'd wanted. I slammed it. Like poured it right down before all the ice had a chance to melt. It was good, tasty even. In addition to being thick and strong, coffee in Croatia has amazing flavor. Then I was cold (It's a chilly day anyway by Dubrovnik standards) so I ordered a hot americano. All before my cheeseburger arrived. So, on pretty much an empty stomach I downed two little tiny cups of really strong coffee. My lunch sopped up some of it assuredly, but when I got up to use the ladies' room, I had to steady myself. Like I said, no way to prepare.
The trouble is that no matter how slow I sip, my cup empties long before I'm done writing. And we only need to look at the paragraph above to understand what a second cup does to me. So, like tonight, I end up looking like a cheap-skate American asshole, taking up a table (Granted the restaurant is currently near empty and it's well into dinner time) and nursing one cup of coffee. But f***, if I order another one I'll not only be awake well into next week but probably stagger home like I spent the evening doing shots at the bar. Real shots. Not espresso shots.
Croatians apparently don't drink coffee. The only people I've seen with a cup are the tourists - Americans, a few from the UK (I met a guy from England that enjoys a cafe americano like I do, but he uses milk and sugar. Dilettante), and I'm sure the ones from Scandinavia. In Scandinavia, it's literally a thing, a hobby, a way of life. Everyone drinks coffee and you can get it everywhere, like on every single street corner and then halfway up the block also. If there isn't a coffee shop, there'll be a convenience store. I know I'm often prone to some exaggeration. Not in this case. Coffee is so prevalent, so omnipresent, that I prepared for it, studied for the test. Because when in Rome, especially when it's cold in Rome, you drink coffee.
Here in Croatia, I just want a place to write with free WiFi. Given that you can't simply sit down and not order anything, I order coffee, an americano. Sure, I could order an alcoholic beverage, afterall I've only found coffee in bars and restaurants, but Christ, I didn't prepare for that. And I don't drink. Much. And I can't risk another hangover this trip. And writing drunk......That'd be a mess. Good God.........
So, coffee it is. A super thick, super strong little tiny cup of Croatian coffee. Call it a Cafe Croatiano.
Croatia is a land where plain, old filtered or brewed coffee doesn't exist, at least not in the cafes and restaurants I've been to. In fact, I've yet to see a coffee place that wasn't a bar and restaurant. No chains like those that are ever-present in the U.S. and Scandinavia. No Starbucks, Caribou, Wayne's, Joe and the Juice, etc, etc. No private places like my beloved Lola Savannah back in Austin. Nope. If you want coffee (and free Wifi) you have to go to a cafe or restaurant and seem like a complete douche-bag when the waiter approaches full of hope and good will and all you order is a cafe americano.
Yes, a cafe americano, usually I abbreviate all that to just an americano. What's an americano? The closest thing you'll get to filtered or brewed coffee when filtered and brewed coffee don't exist. Ok, ok, it's a shot of espresso watered down with hot water that supposedly has the same strength as good, old-fashioned brewed coffee. Um...............................Not in Croatia it doesn't. In Croatia, especially the one restaurant I've been frequenting in the old city (Cele's....Shameless plug), an americano is thicker and far more powerful that any brewed coffee I have ever had. And that includes the triple strength stuff the old guy at the Pro Desk used to cook up every morning (You could seriously remove wallpaper with it).
When your first cup comes to the table, you're going to think (I promise you will), I'm paying how much for that little tiny cup of coffee? And no free refill? You'll probably also try to slam that first cup, like it's the first four ounces of your 24 ounce large cup from your local convenience store. Then you might even screw the expense and order a second cup (I mean you're on vacation, right?), because all you've had is a veritably a sip when usually you drink gallons. Ok......about the time that second cup arrives at your table, the caffeine from the first cup is going to hit you, like a shot of tequila on an empty stomach. Suddenly you're buzzed, maybe even a little more than buzzed. There is nothing you can do to prepare for this level of caffeination.
Because this isn't your favorite barrista's cup of coffee. This is coffee on steroids, the everclear of coffee. Order a cafe americano they say. It's the same as brewed coffee. It's not. Not in Croatia anyway.
I can drink pots of brewed coffee back home and never feel as intoxicated as I did this afternoon at lunch when something got lost in translation and I got an iced americano instead of the hot version I'd wanted. I slammed it. Like poured it right down before all the ice had a chance to melt. It was good, tasty even. In addition to being thick and strong, coffee in Croatia has amazing flavor. Then I was cold (It's a chilly day anyway by Dubrovnik standards) so I ordered a hot americano. All before my cheeseburger arrived. So, on pretty much an empty stomach I downed two little tiny cups of really strong coffee. My lunch sopped up some of it assuredly, but when I got up to use the ladies' room, I had to steady myself. Like I said, no way to prepare.
The trouble is that no matter how slow I sip, my cup empties long before I'm done writing. And we only need to look at the paragraph above to understand what a second cup does to me. So, like tonight, I end up looking like a cheap-skate American asshole, taking up a table (Granted the restaurant is currently near empty and it's well into dinner time) and nursing one cup of coffee. But f***, if I order another one I'll not only be awake well into next week but probably stagger home like I spent the evening doing shots at the bar. Real shots. Not espresso shots.
Croatians apparently don't drink coffee. The only people I've seen with a cup are the tourists - Americans, a few from the UK (I met a guy from England that enjoys a cafe americano like I do, but he uses milk and sugar. Dilettante), and I'm sure the ones from Scandinavia. In Scandinavia, it's literally a thing, a hobby, a way of life. Everyone drinks coffee and you can get it everywhere, like on every single street corner and then halfway up the block also. If there isn't a coffee shop, there'll be a convenience store. I know I'm often prone to some exaggeration. Not in this case. Coffee is so prevalent, so omnipresent, that I prepared for it, studied for the test. Because when in Rome, especially when it's cold in Rome, you drink coffee.
Here in Croatia, I just want a place to write with free WiFi. Given that you can't simply sit down and not order anything, I order coffee, an americano. Sure, I could order an alcoholic beverage, afterall I've only found coffee in bars and restaurants, but Christ, I didn't prepare for that. And I don't drink. Much. And I can't risk another hangover this trip. And writing drunk......That'd be a mess. Good God.........
So, coffee it is. A super thick, super strong little tiny cup of Croatian coffee. Call it a Cafe Croatiano.
Comments
Post a Comment