At the specialty stall in the public market where they grind coffee and other beans, I again chanced upon the old Tugbok farmer whom I had met before in the same place. Just like the last time, he was once again first before me, with his sack of cacao already being processed.
During our first meeting at the same store long ago, I recalled that our initial and polite greetings then had naturally graduated into one of those casual conversations between strangers where both parties continually grasped at straws and looked for common interests in order to get started. When we had finally settled, our topic revolved around the benefits of drinking brewed coffee as compared to the instant and three-in-one varieties commonly served in restaurants and other establishments today.
This time, it felt like one was meeting a friend once more. I had inquired how his family enterprise of selling processed cacao had fared since the last grind schedule. In turn, as a joke, he asked how my nerves were holding, considering I was here again and this time, bringing in three bags of coffee beans for grinding. Has my family consumed the last batch I brought in? Also, noticing that since the last time we met two and a half months ago, he kidded that it must be most probable that we were the only patrons of the place because we had not seen any other customer.
Incidentally, we again talked about coffee, and he intimated that he had followed one tip I gave him. Empty a sachet of instant coffee into a pot and let it boil for a few minutes. The result is as if you were drinking brewed coffee already. An hour later, we had gone our separate ways and looked forward to meeting again. Same place. Grinder’s stall.
Inasmuch as I love to talk about my favorite brew, even with new friends, I likewise get the same pleasure whenever I excitedly yap about what happens whenever old friends meet again (in this case, I’m referring to fellow-musician friends). Even if you fail to see it, there’s a connection; old friends and coffee, share a common thread, and it’s in how they’re blended.
In terms of conversations, talks of what had transpired long ago, when our frontal lobes were still underdeveloped, always bring forth not only pure laughter but a more objective view and review of our past escapades, like were we thinking of then? Many a time, I’ve encountered fellow musicians whom I played with in the past, and it’s always amazing how rich our reminiscences have turned out as told at the moment.
Music-wise, to be able to play again with a few makes our memories doubly special. I remember during one special gig, without rehearsals, around seven of us had gone up the stage to render a few old tunes on request. Though much older, there’s really no forgetting the blending, and, in a weird way, I’m thinking again of coffee.
