a cuppa

I'm pretty sure I will never become American in the take-caffeine-with-me kind of way. It just runs into a wall in my brain.

Turkish has a word that I don't know how to spell, but it sounds like "terachilluk." At least, that's what I was told by our Albanian landlords, our first year in Kosovo. We spent hours at terachilluk, if that's how you use the word. It seems to mean a twice-daily kind of time, after everyone has finished their morning work, or their afternoon naps, and they gather in the garden - or in the room with the wood fire, in the winter - and drink çaj and kafe. They tell stories (Albanians are some of the best storytellers!), crack and spit sunflower seeds, munch on keksa, the kids run around...it's all relaxed.

In France we sat with friends in cafes, sipping cappucinos and tisanes, maybe having a croissant...all relaxed.

"All relaxed" does not jive with pouring a hot drink of choice into a travel mug, taking it with me as I speed to work or around town on errands, and feeling lost without it. It becomes utilitarian, just using the caffeine.

I can't do it.

I have to say, though, that my oldest daughter, who grew up in Kosovo and western Europe, pours her coffee into a Mason jar and takes it with her in the car to teach her 12th graders, and I still love her. I guess we all can adapt.