Fourth Journey Day 101: Between Sips and Silence
The morning mist lingered over the valley as I arrived at a small coffee estate nestled in the foothills. The air was crisp, carrying the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil and drying coffee beans. My guide, a local farmer named Miguel, led me through rows of coffee plants, their glossy leaves catching the filtered sunlight. He spoke passionately about the care that goes into growing Panama's prized Geisha coffee, a bean known for its delicate floral notes.
Inside the drying room, the smell of fermentation mingled with the faint sweetness of fruit. Miguel let me taste different roasts, each sip revealing layers of citrus, honey and jasmine. The warmth of the coffee seeped through my fingertips, and I sketched the worn wooden tables and sacks of beans stacked high against the walls.
As I left, I lingered on the estate's terrace, gazing at the rolling hills, the rhythmic movement of the farmhands, and the steam rising from my last cup. It was not just coffee-it was a quiet ritual, a slow art.
