That Friday morning I woke up; I brushed my teeth as usual and looking out the window of my house I could see the snow that was already halfway up my car and then I decided; I took my cell phone and decided to take advantage of the weekend in a different way, I organized a trip in a few minutes; I bought a flight to Colombia in search of the perfect coffee, I searched on Google what to do in Bogotá, first there was that organic coffee farm that I immediately knew was what I was looking for; 2am my flight from Atlanta to Bogotá arriving on Saturday at 6:30am and around 7:15am I left the airport; in 30 minutes I was at the cranky croc hostel which was the meeting point; ready to start my adventure, I found my guide Natalia and together with the rest of the travelers we took a car towards the mountains which we crossed in a very comfortable white van; in an hour and a half or so we were there; in the place I dreamed of, but I never imagined what it would be like until I got there. All these years I had wanted to have a coffee there at the campina, only I didn’t know it; until I arrived at this path passing the town of Choachí; behind this fence with red walls and an old Spanish style roof was the real reason for my entire trip. After a warm welcome with the coffee dogs that had the craziest names of characters I ever thought I would find there; Michael Prince Jackson; Mark Antony, Charlie and Liz Taylor; we were at the table where I took a chair looking at the immensity of the valley between the mountains and closer to me the plants and flowers of the garden; right on the table my first country coffee made in a pot, sweetened with panela just like the locals drank it to start the day recharged; although this way was not the one I liked the most, it was a different feeling to have coffee there in front of the mountains; behind me the house of our hosts and there they were: Karen, Jasmin, Julieth, Yola and Marcela the campesinas; who with the speed of working bees in a hive began the special act; to teach us all what coffee really is and all the work that goes into a cup of coffee. We walked to a shack where Marcela showed us the coffee regions with a map of Colombia and introduced us to our main tool, the coconut collector. After a few minutes of chatting, we visited the humus and compost. Without missing a minute, I was already among the plants, walking among them and being one of them; and that was where I heard these words for the first time; picking, pulping, washing, fermenting and drying; then to drink coffee. We sat down again at the long table to watch as Marcela opened one of her freshly packed bags of coffee. The grind was very important, she said, and turned on the small electric grinder. Then she took out the large French press and poured in a few spoonfuls of freshly ground coffee. Then, at a considerable height so as not to create too much acidity, she let the hot water fall so that it would create turbulence mixing with the coffee. After a few minutes of rest, she set about pressing the filter that was going down and along its way it took all unnecessary residue; until the end, leaving this cup of Colombian coffee very black and ready to serve. In this way, sitting at that table and looking at the mountains, I was able to taste the perfect coffee; the real coffee. 

After two hours of continuous travel, I was changed; I felt that all those hours of travel had been worth it; I felt in heaven and that finally, and just as Marcela had said, after today, my life would never be the same. 

By Fredy Calderon