Morning steals into the apartment through shards of pale light between mustard curtains. Through an open window, a thin line of white clouds can be seen crowning an imposing mountain. The sound of a street band meanders down a side-street. The guitarists pick at their instruments with a lazy precision, as a woman’s voice serenades the passing city.
A child runs across a large paved courtyard, his father laughing and giving chase. Jacob Pod watches it all, before walking down uneven marble-topped stairs to the street below. He takes a seat at the nearest café and orders two cups of the local brew. A truck pregnant with cattle for the dairy stops and the driver is greeted like an old friend. Cigarette smoke and lazy conversation fills the air. Jacob sits alone with his caffeinated lifeline, absorbing the day.
“If only I could take a piece of this; a taste of the world, back home with me," Jacob thinks to himself. After all, when did Australian coffee become so pretentious? Why do you have to frequent narrow laneways that once would have been ideal places to stash a corpse; elbowing your way past skinny-jeaned and ironic bearded food-allergists, just to find a café that does a decent cup?
“Since when did coffee get so complex?!” Jacob blurted aloud.
The old lady sitting two tables across looks confused. She doesn’t know any English; wonders why Jacob was talking to the dog curled up on the pavement.
“Why can't everyone experience the world’s best coffee blends, in their own kitchen?” he said.
and it was at that moment that the Jacob Pod Coffee story began...