Life Changing Times

Like many of us, those at least who have proper priorities, coffee is a thing. I have a wonderful Gaggia coffee machine at home but it not exactly practical to travel with.

I used to travel with a French Press, but it never hit the spot. Or hit too many spots if I didn’t pack it properly, being made of glass. A friend suggested the aeropress, I think mostly because it’s entirely plastic and he knows my tendency to break/damage things or myself.

Excellent solution. Except for the milk. It makes espresso coffee, but if, like me, you take milk and you’re in a hotel room the end product is disgusting cold coffee.

Never to be defeated in my search for drinkable coffee, I found this hack online and it’s brilliant. You put the ceramic cup three quarters filled with milk sitting just inside the mouth of the kettle and let it boil for a few minutes. Perfectly heated milk and passably drinkable coffee – life is suddenly worth living again.

I feel that may sum up my first days here in Erbil. I will be moving today to a temporary apartment, which will be a welcome shift from the apparently entirely male dominated hotel.

Breakfast is on the 10th floor – the first morning I jog up the 3 flights of stairs, to be greeted by a room filled with middle aged men. Not a woman in sight. They all skip a small beat when I entered, then carried on.

I’m a confident traveller and it’s hardly the first time I’m in that situation, but I never like it. It’s impossible not to be self conscious, not to immediately put on the mental armour, not be hyper vigilant. It’s a hotel breakfast room, nothing sinister, but it’s an auto reaction developed over the years for good reason.

The next morning I was more prepared, it’s been a while since I’ve been work travelling, I went up, collected some breakfast and brought it to my room. Fuck sitting in the restaurant.