From Culture to Ritual: The Journey of Adaptation from a recovering coffee snob.

When I began traveling in my early 20s, I gravitated towards something familiar and consistent in every place I visited: a great spot to drink coffee. I would actively seek out the best cafes wherever I traveled, trying to speak to the barista and orient myself in a new city through that familiar and inviting lens. Coffee culture is friendly, artisanal, full of craft, and taste—or what some might call snobbery. As a self-confessed coffee snob, landing in Argentina was not unlike arriving in other South American countries with regards to great coffee. Naturally, there are some well-presented cafes with good products and environments. However, generally speaking, the coffee culture here is not as robusta (I did) and, to add to that, it is really expensive. Argentina’s economic position makes importing top brand coffee equipment and even the cost of roasting a squeeze for the locals, and even though I’m not earning pesos, It’s got me considering my spending habits.

At the same time, I began learning about maté. Argentineans are passionate about this drink, and if you've met an Argentinian, you've probably had them explain everything about it to you. You may have even had a live demonstration, which seems to be a real point of pride for many. This love of sharing the culture of this drink, which is a mixture of dry green herbs called yerba, sipped through a metal straw from an artisanal reservoir or maté, is simply put, delicate and sacred. With more time spent in Argentina, I began to understand the gravity back towards the maté. A social situation provides an opportunity for friends to gather around one person pouring for everybody. Conversation flows, and the culture of sharing this drink is respected, directly enabling relationship-building to continue.

More time spent here sees me paying more attention to my own brew, probably while consuming a little too much while I’m ‘learning’. I’m not taking cursory sips from a coffee cup that might have gone cold. No, I’m present each time with the maté. If I’m not, I’m going to spill it on my crotch. So I take a moment to centre myself before each sip. A lot of Argentinians have remarked to me about the meditation of maté, and now I get it. It is these moments of stillness that make this drink what it is. In a frantic Buenos Aires, it allows me to slow down (and stay awake). When enjoyed alone, a maté truly is meditation.

Reflecting on my previous inclination towards coffee ‘culture’, I realise that something has become far more important in my life: ritual. I know these things are not exclusive—making a V60 filter coffee is also a meditative ritual for me. So was making my very own V60 dripper in my ceramic class because I’m arty as fuck and I already told you how expensive a new one is, thank you very much.?

I still love my coffee, and I will miss my maté when I’m not traveling with the kit (this is how you know I’m not a true Argentinian yet). But in either case, I am more and more open to creating moments of ritual stillness in my life. I can hear your kind suggestion that ritual stillness around less-stimulating substances might also be an idea, and I hear you. I have these too. But these are the ones that really turn me on. It might just be the mateine running through my veins, or a little bit of contagious Argentinian pride though. How would I know??

Slurp.?