Breaking Coffee

I'm going to take a break from the story last week.

Except that it's what got my current life started for me. My love of travel anyway. Every time I get the chance I get out of town nowadays, at least until I started school in September.

This year has been a whirlwind of a year, I lost a few instrumental people in my life. I'm sitting here done school for the week - not that it ever stops - reminiscing over the past year.
 
The exciting of landing in a new place, not knowing what bus to take. A pilgrimage in ways, the same place an old friend traveled for his final excursion.  Having lost my T-Mobile sim card, I got off at the first T-Mobile store I saw. Which happened to be in Harlem. Never had I felt so out of place... I loved it!

A week after Nelson Mandela had died. Wondering around on a mission I passed The Apollo, a rudimentary shrine in front. The mission was soul food. Sylvia's wasn't too far, I'm still so far out of place. I learned that soul food is not really my favourite.

Within the hour I was on my first subway. No idea how it worked just got on the first train I saw. Earlier deciding to concentrate on Manhattan Island this trip, I booked a hostile near the northwest corner of Central Park. I decided to touch base with them, dropping off my gear. My first mission in every town I take over is to find an amazing coffee, which turned out harder than I thought. The area I was staying at was very laid back, lacking the vibrance I not only expected, craved.

After roaming, finding a cafe dedicated to bacon, many shops, the best cup I found tasted like what I imagine brewing used coffee with jet fuel, through a sock that had been worn for a week. Less than appealing.

To be continued...