I’d do anything for a good cup of joe

When we moved to Korea we brought with us our French Press. You see, my obsession with the French press began when I was in college. I went to visit my friend Jenifer who lived in a small apartment in winter park. She brought her French press onto the stairs in front of her place and we drank coffee, chatted away, watched our surroundings and pretended the annoying bee wasn’t flying around us. Ever since that day, I have owned a French press. I am not sure if the coffee really tastes that much different from a drip pot, but I think it looks a whole lot cooler and adds a small sense of sophisticatedness to my morning cup of joe. So, like I said, we moved to Korea with our press packed up well in the corner of the suitcase…and it did us really well…until a few weeks ago when the darn silverware was too heavy stacked in the drying holder suctioned cupped to the wall in the kitchen. We heard a bang and of course Adam blamed Olive, when in actuality the stupid silverware landed on the counter which pushed the French press to the ground…and just like that, we were out of a coffee pot.

I refuse to buy an electronic pot and I really distaste the instant coffee they have here, everywhere, in Korea. So, for two weeks I was without my precious morning cup of Joe. Luckly, by some odd chance, Tuesday, as we walked passed angels in us coffee, we spotted a press in the window. It took us about 15 minutes to converse with the staff through hand gestures and language barriers that we wanted to buy it. After a phone call to another shop, some running around and careful packaging, we walked out with a new, a bit smaller, but new French press. And for the third day in a row, I have had a cup before yoga when I wake up and a nice big one when I get home. There is nothing like it.

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