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Lila with a very large bowl of fresh roasted coffee. Blessed to spend the afternoon with her yesterday. #coffee #coffeeroaster #honduras #sanmarcosdecolon #caturra https://www.instagram.com/p/CnkG4bwOZVx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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UNAB Viña del Mar realizó la Ceremonia de Cierre de la Tutoría Caturra
Este programa de tutoría para jóvenes futbolistas del equipo Santiago Wanderers cuenta con el apoyo de la Escuela de Educación UNAB, siendo una iniciativa que les posibilita finalizar el ciclo escolar combinando el deporte y el estudio. Por quinto año consecutivo Santiago Wanderers de Valparaíso y la Escuela de Educación de la UNAB, sede Viña del Mar, prepararon a una nueva generación de…
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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 22)
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 23, Chapter 24
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Masterlist
Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo
Words: 6,985
Summary: As Horacio's and Javier's stay in Manizales comes to an end, Elena has some words of wisdom and an unexpected offer for their future.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, religious themes, brief non-explicit sexual references, smoking, swearing.
Notes: As promised, here's the second half of their Manizales adventures. I'm still wrestling with editing chapter 23 at the moment, plus life has been kind of busy/stressful lately, so not sure when it will be ready to post. But the finish line is definitely within touching distance now ❤️
Thank you once again to anyone still reading/commenting/making moodboards and playlists or drawing, I'm blown away when my fic inspires others to create. I'll be making a proper masterlist once the fic is finished, where I'll link to everything people have made or have suggested playlist songs etc., plus there'll be my own playlist and moodboards.
Feel free to drop me a comment, whether it's about the new chapter or an older one, I'm always happy to chat 😊
I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.
Chapter 22: Past, Present, Future
The early morning mist transformed into drizzle in the time it took Horacio to run around the farm boundaries, the spray cooling his clammy skin as he worked up a sweat. He left Javier to wake and shower at his own leisurely pace, a routine they had settled into since arriving here. Although two mornings ago, both Javier and Alejandra were suspiciously worse-for-wear, and Horacio didn’t see much of either of them until after lunch.
Today, they planned to join one of Fabián’s tours, which included a coffee-tasting session. So, even if the exercise hadn’t woken Horacio up, the caffeine certainly would.
The rain eased off once back at the finca, sunrays now straining to break through the low clouds as Horacio showered and dressed, somehow still beating Javier.
Tempting aromas from the kitchen let Horacio know his Mamá was already up and about after making the children breakfast before Alejandra dropped them off at school.
As he sat down at the kitchen table and poured himself a glass of orange juice – his usual coffee would wait for later – both cats, Caturra and Bourbon, took turns rubbing themselves against his legs.
“You and Alejandra loved that stray cat when you were young,” said Elena, who had appeared from the larder with her arms full of eggs, chorizo and arepas. “What was her name?”
“Estrella.”
“She was the next best thing to a jaguar, and you were desperate to see one back then.”
“I remember. Never did, though.”
“Not many get the privilege these days.”
“Can’t say I blame them for keeping out of sight.”
Horacio remembered his Abuela Margarita telling him stories of how the jaguar, snake and condor were the original creators of the world and how the jaguar was tricked by man into parting with its power of fire. The feline creature was forced to survive on its cunning and strength alone, prowling around the mountains and jungles of Colombia, waiting patiently to exact revenge.
For too long, Horacio had stalked, clawed and mauled his prey all over Medellín, seeking vengeance on those who betrayed his country and its people. He was an apex predator maintaining balance and order in the food chain, not out of choice but necessity. A reluctant warrior backed into a corner until a palpable sense of duty kicked in when the threat was too real to ignore.
But whatever the unseen truth was, jaguars gained a reputation as ferocious killers, feared by humans until they became the hunted rather than the hunter, gunned down and chased into hiding and a life of solitude. An act of cowardice by the jaguar on the face of it, but these days, Horacio liked to think of it as an evolutionary advantage, the opposite side of the fight-or-flight coin.
“It’s understandable, yes. But a life in the shadows has its drawbacks.”
“True. But there can be a certain kind of freedom in the dark. Especially when those with flares want you dead.”
“Not everyone offering light wants that, Mijo.”
Horacio, who had focused on the floor for most of the conversation, finally looked up, hazel eyes mirrored back at him with extra shades of wisdom. His dour expression softened, and his shoulders sagged in concession. “I know.”
“Whilst I’ve got you here…” Elena trailed off, disappearing upstairs before returning with a small wooden trinket box.
She sat down at the table and extracted a gold chain from the box. “He’d want you to have it.”
Horacio stared at the pendants that swung back and forth like a pendulum clock as Elena held them out towards him. His cheeks hollowed, and his lips formed a sharp pout from how tightly he held his jaw in place. “Mamá, I can’t. Not after everything. Not after I ran away.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After I was injured, I went into hiding...in Laredo, Texas. And I quit.” He grasped his hands together and bowed his head as though in prayer, but he wasn’t sure even God could help him now he had confessed his sins. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. And I know you’re probably wondering why I went –”
“Javier.”
Horacio froze, undecided if he was caught off guard by the mention of Javier’s name or how he could hear his Mamá’s smile as she said it, as though it was the most glaringly obvious response anyone could ever have given.
“It’s okay, Mijo. You don’t have to explain yourself. He told me about the ranch whilst you and Alejandra cleaned up on your first night here.”
“That’s how you knew?”
“Well, not only that. I might be older these days, but I’m not blind.”
Elena chuckled, but Horacio could tell it wasn’t at his expense. So, he allowed his jaw some leeway, unclenching his teeth and facial muscles, almost appreciating the ache left behind. A chain reaction surged through his body, tension unknowingly carried for decades ebbing away now the secret he once believed would follow him to his grave was not only out but wasn’t being held against him.
And so he threw caution to the wind and let the floodgates open. He told his Mamá about Madrid and working on the ranch, about their plans for the future, about life in Laredo and even the crucifix, just in case she had noticed its absence and assumed the worst.
Talk of the crucifix prompted Elena to take one of Horacio’s hands in hers, where she deposited her gift of gold before he could refuse. “Take it. Please.” Her hand formed a dome over Horacio’s, fingers gently squeezing.
Once Elena withdrew, Horacio unfurled his palm and stared down at his very own El Dorado. “After my injury, I’d dream about this sometimes. And the stories you and Abuelita Mirabel told us about Bochica. I wish it’d been as easy as striking a staff to stop Escobar.”
“Bochica might have saved his people from drowning, but he couldn’t save them from the conquistadors and their gold-digging.”
Horacio rolled his eyes and sighed. “I know you don’t approve of Madrid, Mamá. And I know I’m no Bolívar, but –”
“Mijo, what are you talking about? I know you had your reasons for Madrid – even the second time. That’s not what I meant. And no one’s asking you to be Bolívar.”
A salient monument dedicated to Simón Bolívar stood in the centre of Manizales. The statue was half-man, half-condor, each entity synonymous with the other as national symbols of freedom and sovereignty. It still stung for Horacio to be reminded he had worn the Colombian coat of arms on his uniform sleeve every day, the proud condor flying above the motto Libertad y Orden (Freedom and Order) with Dios y Patria (God and Country) sworn beneath. But unlike Bolívar and Bochica, Horacio was unable to liberate his people.
Instead, he had sought refuge in two countries that had interfered the most with Colombia's autonomy. He had made a home on the land of the former Empire and used the gringos to his advantage when it suited him, never mind allowing one of them into his heart and bed.
Elena pressed her hand tenderly to Horacio’s cheek, the conflict in his mind apparently written all over his face. It was an action he had been on the receiving end of throughout childhood, but one that still had the power to soothe him as though no time had passed since.
“You’re also forgetting Chibchacum’s role in Bochica’s story,” she continued. “He was the one punished to carry the world on his back for creating the flood in the first place. Bochica did the best he could in terrible circumstances, and that’s all anyone could ask for.”
Memories re-surfaced of Abuelita Mirabel sitting between Horacio and Alejandra on the sofa, a blanket spread across the three of them, where she told of how every time there was an earthquake in Colombia, it was the weight of the world shifting on Chibchacum’s back. Little did Horacio know that would become a feeling he was all too familiar with when he was older.
But his Mamá was right; he wasn’t Chibchacum or Bochica. And he certainly wasn't Bolívar. But neither was his Papá.
So, he took a deep breath and raised the chain to unclip the fastening. From there, he attached it behind his neck, letting the deity and the angel finally rest against his skin.
“Beautiful,” Elena said, her eyes suddenly glossy and the corner of her lips twitching.
“Thank you.” Horacio held his Mamá’s gaze until it was necessary to look away and clear his throat. “What else is in there, anyway?” He swiftly motioned towards the box.
Elena passed it over to Horacio so he could look for himself. Nestled inside were his Papá’s wedding ring and lapel pins, his Abuelo Ignacio’s St. Michael’s cross, rosary beads, an old pack of Deportivo Independiente Medellín trading cards, a postcard of an orange grove with handwriting Horacio recognised as his Mamá’s on the back, and a black and white photograph of a young boy draped in a police jacket that was far too big for him. Behind him stood his father in the rest of the uniform the jacket belonged to.
“Is that Papá and Abuelo Ignacio?”
Elena laughed. “Of course!” She got up again without explanation, re-appearing with a photo album this time.
She flicked through it until she found what she was looking for. “Where do you think we got the idea for this from?”
She was pointing at an almost identical picture. The two boys in the photos had the same thick dark hair and charcoal eyes, a resemblance that would carry through into adulthood – although Horacio built up more muscle than his father ever did.
Horacio smiled. “I remember that being taken. It was my first day at school.”
“It was his idea before you set off for school, and he set off for work. He made sure I was ready with the camera when you came downstairs in your uniform.”
“I never knew it was his idea.” The dejection was evident in Horacio’s voice, even if he tried to hide it.
“He might not have said it much, but he was so proud of you, you know. And so am I.”
Horacio swallowed hard with his eyes shut, anything to hold himself together. “I used to take this when you weren’t looking,” he managed to get out, gesturing towards the photo album. “Same with some of the other old albums we had. Well, I kept a couple of them, actually.” He chuckled at the thought of the albums currently residing on a shelf in Madrid. “I always went back to the photos and his uniform for some reason.”
“You didn’t have to hide it from me.”
“Neither did you with us.”
“I know. But you were both so young. You didn’t need that burden on top of everything else.”
“You could never be a burden, Mamá.”
“You and Alejandra were busy forging your careers. I had to stay strong at work, helping people worse off than me. So, I saved most of it for my prayers and Día de Todos los Santos.”
Horacio remembered attending Mass and his Papá’s grave every Día de Todos los Santos. But it was different to Día de Muertos. They weren’t welcoming his Papá home; they were praying for those in purgatory and heaven. And as much as he liked to think his Papá was a saint, there was always a part of him terrified that if he didn’t pray hard enough, his Papá would never be cleansed of his sins.
“I was in Laredo for Día de Muertos. Javier’s father – Chucho – had a box like this for Javier’s mother – Mariana. He used it to make an ofrenda for her.”
Another piece of the puzzle seemed to click into place for Elena in a look that combined realisation with sympathy. Another loss, another parallel, another explanation.
“A beautiful tradition,” she concluded.
“Yeah, it is. One that remembers the people we’ve lost as we knew them and welcomes them back home.”
“A bit like this, you mean?”
“Something like that.”
“Whilst we’re here…there’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“Go on.”
“Money from the house sale in Medellín has been sitting in a bank account since I moved here, along with some left over from your Papá. The plan was to split it between you and Alejandra when I’m gone, but…why wait?”
“What? But Mamá, that’s your money.”
“Technically, half of it is your Papá’s. But he’s not here. And who better to put that money to good use than his children?”
“Even though I wouldn’t have children of my own to return the favour one day?”
It was a question that had lingered on the tip of Horacio’s tongue since arriving here. A question he had tried to ignore for a long time before that, if he was honest. He learned of Juliana’s first pregnancy from his Mamá, who had heard the news from a friend of a friend. That was all she said on the matter, but Horacio was never sure whether he imagined the traces of disappointment in her voice that it wasn’t his child.
“Horacio, do you really think that matters to me?”
There was no disappointment in Elena’s tone now, just incredulous confusion that made Horacio regret his words.
“Even if I wasn’t surrounded by my amorcitos every single day, I would want you and Alejandra to make your own choices. Live your own lives. If that doesn’t involve children for you, then so be it.”
Horacio nodded, his lungs expelling a freeing breath he hadn't been aware was trapped in the depths of his rib cage. “Have you spoken to Alejandra about the money?”
“Not yet. But I know the farm needs repairs, and they’ve always got plans for this place. Same as the ranch.”
“I don’t own the ranch, though, Mamá.”
“No. But from everything you’ve told me about Chucho, he obviously trusts you with his business. And I don’t imagine you and Javier will want to live in a guesthouse for the rest of your lives. Visas don’t come cheap, either.”
Of course, she was right on all three counts. Horacio had a lot of on-the-job training ahead of him. He would effectively be starting from scratch again. But Chucho had welcomed him with open arms into his home and livelihood. It wasn’t implausible that if Horacio had ideas for the ranch, Chucho would take them on board.
They hadn't discussed living arrangements yet, but Horacio was confident neither he nor Javier had envisaged the guesthouse as a permanent solution. And then there was the small matter of Horacio’s visa. The paperwork upon which their future in Laredo hinged. He tried not to think about all the different ways it could go wrong or what they would do if it did. But that was a problem for another day. A problem that would no doubt be made easier with extra money in tow.
So, he ignored the whispering ghosts of his ancestors because his Mamá was right; he wasn’t doing this for his Papá. And he certainly wasn’t doing it for the people of Colombia, past or present.
“Okay,” he said in the end. “But only if Alejandra agrees to it, too.”
The sound of a throat being cleared caught them off guard and drew a temporary line under the conversation.
“Morning,” Javier greeted as he hovered by the kitchen door. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Of course, he knew he was and an apology with his eyes was all he could offer Horacio for the time being.
“Good morning, Javier. And on the contrary! How do you feel about calentado?”
Whatever Javier had been expecting Elena’s response to be, for some reason, it wasn’t that. He looked towards Horacio for the slightest hint about what he had walked in on.
Horacio wanted to explain everything – and later he would – but for now, he ushered Javier to sit down.
“Er, sounds perfect, thanks,” Javier told Elena as his foot found Horacio’s under the table.
And as the three of them chatted and helped prepare breakfast, Horacio had to admit Javier was right.
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The coffee tour took up the rest of the morning. It was no wonder Horacio had always been particular on the subject when he knew which were the best beans and blends to be found in Colombia. He still had occasional pangs for his former life, but the weak instant shit the gringos brought with them to Carlos Holguín wasn’t one of them.
Naturally, the heavens opened before the end of the tour – bad for the tourists but good for the soil – and by the time they had returned to the finca, another shower was required.
They showered together, the finca empty for a change. Plus, they had nothing to hide anymore – at least not with the people that mattered the most. That hadn’t quite sunk in for Horacio even after he told Javier everything. Even when his last defences buckled, and he broke down in Javier's arms, letting himself be held. Even when he was kissing Javier, slow and deep, in his family’s bathroom, their breaths heavy and desperate in such a confined space.
One thing could easily have led to another as Horacio pinned Javier against the cold tiles, bare skin seeking out bare skin, emotions running high. There was no doubt they wanted it to, and in almost any other circumstance, it would have.
“Not here,” Horacio whispered, his voice shaking and his forehead falling against Javier’s as he was hit by a sudden clarity of thought. “I’m sorry.”
Javier hushed lightly, cradling Horacio against his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.” He kissed across damp hair, running his fingers through thick strands that always became curlier when wet. “We don’t have to do anything.”
Light strokes soon morphed into lathered hands as Javier washed and rinsed Horacio’s hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp and soothing away stubborn remnants of tension.
Although a niggling knot remained, an unspoken question and an uninitiated conversation. “When I was talking with my mother earlier…” Horacio began, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to let the hot jets cascade down his neck and shoulders.
Javier hummed in encouragement, his lips following the water droplets, enveloping Horacio in a blanket of warmth from all angles.
“She reassured me she wouldn’t be disappointed if I never had children.” Horacio let his words hang in the white noise of the shower, giving Javier time to adjust to the change of subject.
“Did you think she would be?”
“It crossed my mind. So much has been passed down through the Carrillo side of my family. From my Abuelo to my Papá. From my Papá to me.”
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but four of your nieces and nephews are around here somewhere.”
Horacio let out a light huff. “Like I could forget. But…they’re Alejandra’s, not mine.”
“I know. But I think you’re forgetting the real question here. Would you be disappointed?”
“Back when I was younger, when I was with Juliana, I might’ve said yes. More out of expectation than anything else. But with you…I think we ripped up and threw away the rule book a long time ago.”
“Thank fuck for that. We’ve never been very good at following rules anyway.”
It didn't take long for them both to laugh at such a flagrant understatement.
“So, you do feel the same then?” Horacio asked in earnest.
“I was less than an hour away from getting my very own white fucking picket fence. If I’d wanted it, I could’ve had it. But that wasn’t my idea of the American Dream.”
Horacio turned in Javier’s arms, and the last seed of doubt was finally plucked from his mind. His lips captured Javier’s again, a statement of intent for their future. A future they no longer had to hide from their families.
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Javier seated himself in the large wooden gazebo at the end of the garden, which doubled as a viewing platform over the steep valley below. For once, sunlight had won the battle against the mist, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue. It made it possible to see for miles, giving the illusion of being high amongst the surrounding trees alongside the raucous birdlife living in their branches.
It was their penultimate morning in Manizales, upon which Javier had changed a habit of a lifetime by getting up with Horacio. They had penned in some sightseeing of the city later. But for now, Horacio had gone for his usual run, and Javier started the day with possibly the best coffee he had ever drunk.
“May I join you?”
Javier looked up from his cup and cleared his throat. “Oh, er, of course.”
As Elena sat down, the sun glinted off the silver jewellery bonded to Javier’s chest, making them squint at its reflection. He instinctively brought a hand to his neck in a fumbled effort to shove the crucifix beneath the open collar of his shirt.
“You don’t need to do that, you know.”
Fuck. He'd been busted.
However, Elena's voice contained no traces of judgment, and it quickly put Javier at ease. He lowered his hand to his knee, giving a brief bob of the head before taking another sip of coffee.
“I still wear these.” Elena raised her left hand, showing off a sparkling diamond ring above a plain gold band. “The amount of awkward questions about the whereabouts of my husband these have caused over the years. Yet I still can’t bring myself to take them off. Although…”
With her right hand, she took hold of the top ring and wiggled it off her finger, then did the same with the second ring, with more force required this time.
Javier wasn’t sure what was happening until the dappled morning light fell on the inside of the ring he held up to his face.
Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja
(Lucky that I found my soulmate)
“It’s beautiful.”
“Eduardo wasn’t a man of many words, but he had his moments.” Elena’s smile took on a wistful appearance as Javier passed the ring back.
“My Pops is the same with his wedding ring. He insists on wearing it every day, which isn’t really compatible with the day job.”
“I can imagine. I hear it became Horacio’s day job, too?”
“Yeah,” Javier said with an involuntary grin. “I know it might be hard to believe, and I know it’s not what he expected, but it suits him.” Literally as well figuratively, he managed to stop himself from blurting out.
“I can’t remember him ever saying he wanted to be anything other than a police officer. My parents ran a textile business, and Eduardo’s mother was a nurse. But Horacio followed his father, who followed his father like it was their birthright. I always worried about Eduardo, especially if he was running late or was called to an emergency. Then it was the same with Horacio, too. So much blood spilt on our doorsteps, on our streets, in our churches.”
Elena promptly picked up her cup, the balm of hot fruit tea required before she could continue.
“Whenever the phone rang – or I heard a knock at the door – I prepared for the worst. It happened to so many friends and neighbours. So why not my husband or son? Of course, it was Eduardo’s heart in the end. But once Search Bloc made Horacio a walking target, it was only a matter of time. I’d spent years expecting it, but what I hadn’t accounted for in all of my fretting, pacing, and prayers…was you.”
“Me?”
“He told me what you did. How much trouble you and your partner got in for it. How you got injured yourself. How…you saved my son and his men.”
“We couldn’t save them all,” was Javier’s sole response to the lashings of praise he still wasn’t convinced he truly deserved in light of how the ambush came about in the first place.
“You saved more than your superiors were willing to, by the sounds of it.”
Javier scoffed. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”
“Good. And as for the ranch…he’s always liked to keep busy. Just like his father, he could never sit still and relax for long. I can see it. I bet he looks the part.”
“He does, actually.” That was allowed, Javier told himself.
“I thought something had changed after his injury, even if he wouldn’t tell us much. I hoped he’d seen sense, but I knew he was prepared to die for that mission of his – that obsession. I’d almost accepted it, to be honest, especially without Eduardo around to stop him. So, when he told me he’d quit, you were the only reason that made sense.”
“Ever since my Mamá passed, I tried to change things – or control them, at least. Anything to not feel that…helpless again. But it didn’t work like that. Walking away was the only choice left.”
“But it was a choice you both made. That can’t have been easy. I may not have known you very long, but it’s already clear to me you’re good for each other.”
“Even though I’m a gringo?”
“We all have our flaws.” Not only did Elena catch the humour in Javier’s eyes, but she matched and surpassed it with her own. “But to answer your question properly…I would say the complicated histories of our homelands have more in common than meets the eye.”
Javier hummed as he had flashbacks to high school of learning about Laredo starting life as a Spanish colonial settlement before a bloody tug-of-war between Mexico and America – and independence from both – had broken out. There was no denying he had benefited from certain privileges of owning an American passport, and he’d always accepted the gringo label without much pushback. But deep down, he knew it was only half the story.
“You’ve shown each other new paths,” Elena continued. “Safer and happier ones. And that’s what counts.”
“Not quite sure what my new path is yet, to be honest. I’ve spent so long running away from Laredo. I’ve forgotten what it means to live there.”
“It took me a long time to accept my place was here now rather than Medellín. Whenever there was a bombing, or a shooting, or a kidnapping, I had to stop myself from getting on a plane. But Horacio worried I’d be a target because of him. He didn’t want me there. And what could I have done anyway?” Elena let out a self-deprecating huff at the mere thought.
“You wanted to protect your son.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t just that. Medellín was my home and my work. And many of Eduardo’s friends and colleagues were killed. Their wives were sisters to me after his death. But I couldn’t return the favour from down here. Not in the same way, at least. I sent cards, flowers, food parcels, even money sometimes. But it never felt enough.”
“It never does.”
“No. It doesn’t. But I did what I could. And being there for Alejandra and the kids made me feel useful. I got involved with the church again. Worked for a small charity. Even though we’ve been protected from the violence here, the repercussions of it spread far and wide. So many displaced families in need. At least I was making a difference somewhere.”
“I thought I was making a difference. And maybe sometimes I was. But I don’t think it was ever really my fight.”
“Perhaps not. But maybe it helped lead you to the right one.”
“Maybe.”
Javier’s mind drifted back to the family history his Pops told him over the phone in Madrid, not just about his Mamá but his grandparents too. Not to mention all his Pops had done for the local community over the years. He thought of the stories Señora Romero had shared and the kindness she had shown him and Horacio. They had all made a difference in their own ways. And they had done it without leaving their cities, let alone their countries.
As Elena excused herself to ensure Mateo and Sofía weren’t starting another civil war in the kitchen, Javier nursed his coffee cup and surveyed the meandering scenery below. For the first time since he told Stechner to go fuck himself, he could see the outline of a path emerging in front of him. He wasn’t exactly sure where it was leading yet, but at least it was something. Something closer to home.
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Their last day in Manizales came faster than Horacio had expected, presumably a side effect of waiting for the other shoe to drop any minute. Miraculously, it never did.
“Knock knock.”
Horacio looked up from the bed where he was wrestling with the zip of his suitcase – and currently losing. “Morning.” Another tug, but it wouldn’t shift. “You just gonna watch me?”
“Because you’re usually so good at accepting help.” With a dry smile and shake of the head, Alejandra came to the rescue with less heavy-handedness than her brother, unjamming the zip in seconds.
“I’m better than I was.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“And thank you, by the way.” Horacio stood up, lifting the case from the bed and bringing himself face-to-face with his sister. “For everything.”
Alejandra nodded, maintaining eye contact with Horacio long enough to be distracted by the sunlight dancing across the gold chain around his neck. “It suits you.”
“Thanks. Better than it collecting dust in a box.”
“I don’t just mean the necklace.”
The subtle glow of Horacio's pupils mirrored Alejandra's before he stepped forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head.
“You too. And don’t leave it so long next time.”
“We won’t. I promise.”
“If it helps, I can sweeten the deal with a stay at one of the hot springs around here. They’re always giving me freebies for supplying their coffee. One of them has private thermal pools and everything.”
“You don’t have to bribe me to visit.” However, the thought of it being him, Javier, and a jacuzzi was enough for him to re-think his position on taking bribes. “Plus, I wanna see what you do with the place.”
“So you can take inspiration?”
Horacio rolled his eyes. “You wish. If you think you can handle the Texan climate, you know where we’ll be.”
“Don’t worry, I can and I will.”
“We about ready?” Javier appeared in the doorway with the rest of their luggage, pausing at the threshold. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Again.
“It’s okay; your boyfriend was just inviting us all to the ranch.”
It had only been an innocuous comment, but Alejandra managed to stop both men in their tracks with one word, a bashful look passing between them at the novelty of it.
“Oh, er, that’s great. The more the merrier.” Javier recovered just in time, although the flush in his cheeks showed no sign of abating. “My Pops always makes enough food for the population of Texas, so you’d be more than welcome.”
“Likewise here, Javier. As long as you bring more aguardiente next time.” She winked and drew him in for a hug.
“I think that can be arranged.” Javier broke away first so he could look at Alejandra properly. “And thank you…for everything this week.”
Alejandra gave a bob of the head once more, her smile widening as she glanced from Javier to Horacio, the depth of their gratitude beyond words but written all over their faces. “It’s what big sisters are for.”
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After eating enough breakfast to last them for most of their journey to Medellín – the rest supplemented by Elena’s homemade empanadas and cocadas – they were stood back on the front porch again.
There was a chorus of goodbyes this time, ones that didn’t have the foreboding air of finality about them as they had done in the past.
Horacio allowed his Mamá to clutch him with all her strength, the scent of her perfume transporting him straight back to childhood.
“You take care of each other, you hear? And keep me updated on your visa. You know where I am if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry, Mamá. I will.”
“Y no olvide su español.” (And don’t forget your Spanish)
“No lo haré, Mamá.” (I won’t, Mamá) Horacio barely managed to suppress a tone of amused exasperation, given that he had been surrounded by almost as many Spanish voices in Laredo as in Colombia.
“Javier, you heard all of that. So, don’t let him forget.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Javier received the same treatment as Horacio with a bracing hug.
“Don’t be a stranger, Mijo. And don’t fret about finding that path. Just remember to follow your heart.”
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The light was fading fast, leaving behind a watercolour blend of ambers, yellows and reds that blazed against a backdrop of purple haze and the ethereal silhouette of ancient mountains. The glimmer of city life below felt distant, as though they had left this world altogether and now lived above the clouds.
Which was fine by them as they caught their breath; Horacio draped over Javier’s lap in the passenger’s seat, the culmination of their release glistening across their stomachs.
“Just like old times,” Horacio panted as trails of kisses became interspersed with heady laughter.
“Well, not exactly.” Javier’s thumb and forefinger delicately held the silver and gold pendants at their chests before untangling the chains that had become knotted during their tryst.
“No.” Horacio brought his forehead to meet Javier’s, an instant tonic to the painful twinge gripping their hearts as memories of their last visit to this spot resurfaced. “I told you we’d make up for lost time this past week, though.”
“Yeah, I figured you meant in the hotel. Or even back in Madrid. Not the minute you parked up in Medellín.”
“Like you were complaining.”
“Fuck, no, I wasn’t. Less likely to be overheard up here than in the hotel anyway.”
Once Horacio had regained enough feeling in his limbs to dismount and sit back in the driver’s seat, Javier reached for the glove box. He took out their emergency stash of cigarettes and lit up.
Horacio attempted to clean himself up as best he could and did the same for Javier. “So, this is why you brought those with us.” He nodded towards the cigarettes.
“Obviously.” Javier took a long drag and exhaled with a deep sigh, his body latching on quickly to the nicotine, his mind still blitzed.
They passed their shared smoke back and forth in comfortable silence, basking in their afterglows and the aftermath of the last few days.
“You still like it up here then?” Horacio asked after stubbing out the butt in the ashtray between them.
“Yeah, I do. Don’t think I’ve ever seen it looking so beautiful.”
“Me neither. Funny how the same view can look completely different in a new light.”
Javier hummed in agreement, their gaze now fixed on each other rather than the windshield, the irony not lost that they were back in the same spot where it could easily all have ended.
"I can think of a way to make it even better, though.”
“Go on.”
In a flurry of movement, Javier zipped up his jeans, pulled on his shirt and got out of the car. He rustled around in the trunk until he retrieved a couple of spare towels they had packed for emergencies, along with their jackets. It wasn’t quite the thick blanket from the ranch, but at least it was a mild night.
They sprawled out on the grass behind the car, lying atop the towels and wrapped in their jackets. Javier propped his head on a folded sweater with Horacio resting against his chest at an angle that allowed them both to take in the cityscape below.
“How about we just stay here forever?” Javier rasped between slow, sensual kisses.
Horacio moaned against Javier’s lips as he went back for more. “Don’t tempt me. At least we didn’t book an early flight tomorrow.”
“Good point.” Another string of kisses, each more addictive than the last.
“Although,” Horacio began once they had calmed down, his fingers tracing patterns across Javier’s torso, "we’ve got a lot to sort out once we’re back in Madrid.”
“I know. But at least we ripped off the band-aid.” One of Javier’s hands found Horacio’s and slotted their fingers together.
“I spent so much energy worrying about this trip; I was almost expecting something bad to happen.”
Javier raised their linked hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over Horacio’s knuckles. “But it didn’t.”
“No. In fact…I think I know what I want to do with the money.”
“Oh yeah?”
“If you and your father agree to it, that is. And I can find a good lawyer.”
Javier lifted his head slightly and turned in Horacio's direction, urging him to continue.
“I was thinking….what if we bought the corn farm? The three of us, I mean.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah. I think I am.” Horacio couldn’t help but laugh now he’d said it out loud. “Like I said, I’d need to check everything with a lawyer about my visa first. But there is an option for investors. And you still have some of your money from the ranch, right?”
“Yeah, I do. And obviously, you can count me in. But…shit, Horacio. Are you sure? I mean, it’s your inheritance.”
“It's nothing Alejandra isn't doing with her share. And well, if your father bought it outright, an empty cottage would go to waste on our doorstep. Last I looked, it needed a bit of maintenance, but it wasn’t in bad shape.”
Now, it was Javier’s turn to laugh. “Got it all figured out, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“It’s funny, ‘cos, er...I’ve been thinking, too. About something your Mamá said.”
“About what?”
“About looking closer to home for a new path. And I think I might have found it.”
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They only meant to stay until they got too cold, but their shared body heat let them doze until sunrise. The watercolour skyline re-emerged from behind the mountain tops, gradually bathing Medellín in a heavenly half-light, stirring them awake as it reached their hideaway.
The plan was to freshen up and have breakfast at the hotel before dropping off the hire car and heading to the airport after lunch. But there was something Horacio needed to do whilst the city wasn’t fully awake, whilst the low sun felt like a gift from God Himself.
As they pulled up a stone’s throw away from Horacio’s old family church – a few blocks down from his childhood home and former apartment that Trujillo had cleared after his hasty exit from Carlos Holguín – Javier hesitated, unsure if this was something Horacio needed to do alone.
“Come with me,” Horacio said after stepping out of the car as though he had read Javier’s mind. “Please.”
That was all the confirmation Javier needed to follow.
They walked silently along a well-kept pathway that forked off in multiple directions. It was maze-like and disorientating, but Horacio took purposeful strides despite how long it had been since his last visit.
He halted at a large marble slate engraved with a crucifix and the CNP emblem. There were some dried old flowers in a vase at the base of it, where Horacio knelt down and swapped them for the fresh bunch of marigolds he’d carried from the car.
“A gift from Mamá,” he whispered. “She’ll be back again soon.”
Horacio remained on the grass and brought his hands up to the back of his neck, where he unhooked the gold chain. He studied it between his fingers, then clasped it in his palm and bowed his head.
The cemetery was empty at this time in the morning, the loud rustling in the trees drowning out the murmur of traffic beginning to burst into life.
Javier watched wordlessly a few feet behind Horacio, almost beginning to feel like he was intruding.
“Pray with me.”
“Are you sure? What if someone –”
“I’m sure. No one’s here but us.”
Javier checked around them once, then twice, just in case. Even if someone did happen to come by, two men praying over a grave wasn’t exactly the most compromising position they could be found in. But it was better to be safe than sorry.
Once satisfied, Javier joined Horacio on the grass. They couldn’t get away with how they had done this in private, but Horacio dropped his right hand to the floor beside him, palm outstretched.
Javier took the hint and discreetly placed his left hand over the top, encasing the gold necklace between them.
With heads lowered and eyes closed, they prayed. An unspoken acknowledgement of all they had lost and how it had led them here. They honoured memories made, those that would never be, and those they could still make together despite everything.
Horacio’s eyes fluttered open as the sunlight fell on the headstone above him, forcing him to blink away a glassy sheen. His hand stayed connected with Javier’s on the earth, his present and future by his side, giving him strength to finally make peace with his past.
He rose to his feet and made the sign of the cross on his chest before running his fingers along the embossed letters of his father’s name. “Te quiero mucho, Papá.”
Javier gave as much time as was needed until risking a gentle squeeze of Horacio’s shoulder. “You ready?”
Horacio looked from the gravestone to Javier, the charcoal of his irises burning with the fire of conviction. “I’m ready.”
#Narcos fic#Narcos#Javier Peña#Horacio Carrillo#Carrillo#Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo#Pedro Pascal#Maurice Compte#Narcos fanfic#Narcos fanfiction#Narcos fan fic#My Fan Fic#My Narcos Fic
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Cómo leer una etiqueta de café de especialidad ☕📜
Entender una etiqueta de café de especialidad te permite apreciar mejor lo que estás a punto de disfrutar. Aquí te explico los elementos clave:
1. Origen 🌍El país, región y a veces la finca de donde proviene el café. Esto te da una idea de los perfiles de sabor característicos.
2. Variedad 🌱La especie y la variedad de la planta de café. Ejemplos comunes son Bourbon, Caturra, y Geisha.
3. Proceso 🌾Cómo se procesó el café después de la cosecha (lavado, natural, honey). Este dato afecta directamente el sabor.
4. Puntuación 🏅La calificación otorgada por catadores certificados. Un café de especialidad debe tener al menos 80 puntos sobre 100.
5. Notas de cata 🍊🍫 Descriptores de sabor que puedes esperar, como frutas cítricas, chocolate, o frutos secos.
¡Ahora estás listo para escoger tu próximo café como todo un conocedor!
#CaféDeEspecialidad #CulturaCafetera #AmantesDelCafé #BaristaLife #CaféMéxico #CaféDelDía #CafeLovers #EspecialidadEnTuTaza #NotasDeCata
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chem fem kush + caturra chiroso lavado de La Argentina, Huila - Colombia
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Caturra Vintage Font
Caturra Vintage Font - A Timeless Typeface for Your Design Projects
Looking for a unique vintage-style font to enhance your design projects? Look no further than Caturra Vintage Font, the latest typeface from the Alexander Co. studio. This font features a clean, yet expressive design that is perfect for retro-inspired designs.
With its attention-grabbing, detailed letterforms, Caturra Vintage Font is perfect for a variety of design projects, including posters, flyers, websites, logos, and more. And with five weights available - regular, bold, light, medium, and ultralight - you can choose the perfect option for your project.
But it's not just the design that makes Caturra Vintage Font a standout choice - it also includes a range of additional characters and symbols, such as dots, commas, colons, and other special characters. And with its OpenType file format, it's easy to use across a range of operating systems and design software.
So whether you're a designer looking to showcase your creativity, or just looking for a stylish, vintage-inspired font for your project, Caturra Vintage Font is the perfect choice. Purchase it now and elevate your design projects with its timeless style.
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New BEANS from our partner roaster HEADLANDS COFFEE @headlandscoffee .
新しくコロンビアがラインナップしました✋
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◼︎ COLOMBIA Jardines del Edén - Washed
FLAVOR NOTE: Mont blanc, Red apple, Crisp, Umami, Panera
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VARIETY: Caturra
PROCESS: Washed
AREA: Pijao, Quindío
PRODUCER: Felipe Arcila
ALTITUDE: 1700 - 1900 m
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このコーヒーは、Felipe ArcilaがJardines Del Edén農園で栽培したロットです。農園は、QuindíoのPijaoにある 標高1800 - 2050 mの高地に位置します。12 - 26°Cの美しい特権的な環境にあり、その山岳地帯の地理 壮大な生物多様性 新鮮な微気候が、育てるコーヒーチェリーをより甘く 優れたバランスの 最高のカップ品質となるように後押ししています。約19haの農地では、Gesha, Papayo, Laurina, Maragesha, Wush Wush, Sidra, SL-28などの14以上のエキゾチックな品種を栽培しています。
このマイクロロットは100% Caturra種です。ブラジルで生まれた Red bourbonの突然変異ですが、この品種は Boupbonよりも生産性が高く、病気への耐性があります。厳格な熟成基準に従って収穫され、欠点豆を取り除くためにフロートされ、手作業で分類されます。チェリーはパルピングされる前に30時間かけて 水に浸した状態でゆっくり発酵させられ、その後 ミューシレージを優しく洗浄し、理想的な含水率となるまで温度管理された条件で丁寧に乾燥させられます。
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☕️ Single Origin Coffee Line-up
[Single O]
N) COSTA RICA Finca La Julia - Natural(Double Diamond Process) ←残りわずか
N) COLOMBIA Finca Juan Martin - Sidra Natural ←残りわずか
[Headlands Coffee]
T) GUATEMALA El Mirador - Washed (24-36 hour dry fermentation)
T) COLOMBIA Jardines del Edén - Washed
[B'R.U,T Coffee]
次の入荷を楽しみにしていてください
[Coffee County]
次の入荷を楽しみにしていてください
ー
Categories
T) The Specialty ...Terroir
C) Conceptual ...Sorting, Technology transfer
N) New Wave ...Innovative approach
S)) Special ...Winning lot, Top specialty
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
FLOWER COFFEE / BREW BAR
Weekday 10:00 - 18:00
Weekend/ Holiday 9:00 - 17:00
店舗休: 6月: 21, 28日
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※ 安全面を考慮し 警戒レベル3以上の悪天候が見込まれる場合には予報に沿って営業スケジュールを調整します(なるべく早く店頭張り紙、SNS、Googleにて情報発信します)
ーーーーーーーーーー
神奈川県茅ヶ崎市東海岸北1-7-23 雄三通り
🚃 JR茅ヶ崎駅 歩8分
🚲 駐輪可 3台まで
🚗 駐停車不可(近隣駐車場をご利用ください、参考: 三井リパーク ¥200-/h)
🦠 周囲に配慮あるご利用をお願いいたします
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#thanxalways #newbeans #headlandscoffee #colombia #quindío #jardinesdeledén #caturra
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#specialtycoffee #singleorigin #coffee #singleo #coffeecounty #hario #takahiro #mahlkonig #ditting #lamarzocco #pesado #origami #kinto #flowercoffeebb #everydaybeautiful #shonan #chigasaki #yuzostreet
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Interweave Knits, Spring 2023
This Café Collection offers 3 pullovers, 2 cardigans, a poncho, 2 wraps, a scarf, and fingerless mitts in both lighter weight yarns and some wool ones too, a mix that fits spring. The cover offers the Caturra Top by Rachel Brockman, which features a cable and lace panel running up the front, and then textured sleeves. It is a 2 out of 4 for difficulty and comes in the Universal Yarn’s Truva which is a blend of cashmere and cotton.
The Robusta Scarf by Kimberly Kalnocki is the perfect project if you would like to show off a color contrast with brioche stitch. This one is done in two shades of Berrocco’s Modern Cotton which is actually half modal rayon. It is a 3 out of 4 for difficulty. The brioche bind-off article is a bit disappointing as it explains which serve what purpose, so how to choose one, but does not actually explain the techniques themselves. For which you have to head for your knitting reference book.
Cascara Sweater has an all over blend of cables and brioche stitch and is a bit harder, showing up as a 3 out of 4 for difficulty. Evelyn Siatra designed it in Drops’ Nord yarn, an alpaca/wool/acrylic blend. Cortado Pullover is also a 3 out of 4 and offers a v-neckline echoed all down the front via a center lace panel and then appears on the sleeves. Therese Chynoweth designed it in Universal Yarn’s Deluxe DK Tweed Superwash which is a mostly wool blend.
Also a 3 out of 4 is Affogato is a long cardigan with patch pockets which buttons shut and has a large ribbed collar. It has a medley of cabling all over and is made in Harrisville Design’s Daylight which is a wool yarn made up mostly of Cormo fleece.
#interweaveknits#interweaveknitsmagazine#knittingmagazine#knittingpatterns#springknittingpatterns#caturratop#rachelbrockman#universalyarn#robustwscarf#kimberlykalnocki#briochestitch#lacestitch#cablestitch#berrocoyarns#cascarasweater#evelynsiatra#dropsyarn#cortadopullover#theresechynoweth#affogatocardigan#harrisvilledesignyarn#harrisvilledesign#knitting
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Democracia de Coração Mole
A ricaça democracia
Com seu coração efêmero e bisonho
Esfarelou-se perante
A sentinela adormecida do povo
Fascismo cria de O Capital
No seu crime algoz,
Oh! Não! Meu corpo e alma
Não quer beber esse chumbo de sangue
Não aguentamos mais!
Sinto muito em lhe dizer
Tu sabes, melhor do que eu,
Senhor caturra!
A única força que parou o fascismo
Foi a destemida flor vermelha
Com fé, coragem e força!
Ô hoje se fala apenas em flores brancas [...] Trechos de um poema!!!
✍️🏼Maria de Melo
#desamor#vida#notas#tristeza#escritos#textos#amor#citas#frases#arte#poesias#poema corto#poemas#poetry#poems and quotes#poesia contemporanea#mardepoesia#mardeescritos#becodopoeta#lardepoesias#lardospoetas#mentesexpostas#as coisas que você só vê quando desacelera#deixaram#quandoanoitecai#quandoelasorriu#projetoreconhecidos#projetorevelações#versografando#palavras soltas
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CP Company
032c
ADER ERROR
Aimé Leon Dore
AlwayDoWhatYouShouldDo
Arnodefrance
ASKYURSELF
ASSC CLUB
Blutosatire
Broken Planet
Carsicko
CATURRA
Chinatown Market
CHOOOSELF
CIVISION by CSC
CMMAWEAR
Cole Buxton
Drama call
Drew House
Epide Prefab
Far archive
Grailz
Grailz /PROJECT
HACULLA
Hellstar
Homme + Femme
HOUSE OF ERRORS
IH NOM UH NIT
Kenzo
Kerwin Frost
Kiko Kostadinov
MM6 Maison Margiela
Moncler
Namacheko
NAMESAKE
nonnod
Pet-Tree-Kor
Professor E.
Project G/R
Purple brand
Rick Owens
RRR123
Saint Tears
Syna World
Thug Club
Trippie Redd
TUFF CROWD
Undermycar
Vertabrae
Vuja Dé
VUJADE
Warren Lotas
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Kopi Langka Yellow Caturra, Bila Matang Menguning di Kaki Gunung Raung di Desa Banyuanyar, Kecamatan Kalibaru
RadarBanyuwangi.id – Buah kopi yang sudah matang, umumnya akan berwarna merah. Tapi, ini tidak bagi kopi jenis Yellow Caturra. Varietas kopi yang sudah termasuk langka di Indonesia ini, akan berwarna kuning bila sudah matang. Kopi langka ini, jumlah panenannya sedikit. Dan itu membuat biji kopi jenis ini tidak populer di telinga masyarakat. “Kopi jenis ini (Yellow Caturra) jarang ditemui, di…
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🌱☕ Café de Especialidad de Costa Rica: Más que un sabor, una experiencia☕🌱
Desde las tierras fértiles de Costa Rica, donde las montañas y el clima crean las condiciones perfectas, nace uno de los mejores cafés de especialidad del mundo. 🌋🇨🇷
✨ Variedades destacadas.
Costa Rica es famoso por su Caturra y Catuai, cultivados en altitudes superiores a los 1,200 metros. Estas variedades ofrecen sabores vibrantes con notas cítricas y florales 🌼🍊, acompañadas de una acidez balanceada que te hará querer más en cada sorbo.
🌍 Compromiso con la sostenibilidad.
Los productores ticos están profundamente comprometidos con el medio ambiente, empleando prácticas sostenibles y orgánicas que no solo protegen la biodiversidad, sino que también aseguran una calidad excepcional en cada taza.
¿Ya has probado café de Costa Rica? ¡Cuéntanos tu experiencia! 👇👇
#CaféDeEspecialidad #CostaRicaCafé #CoffeeLovers #Sostenibilidad #CaféSostenible #TicoCoffee #CaféDeAltura #Baristas #CaféGourmet #AmantesDelCafé
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New BEANS from our new partner roaster HEADLANDS COFFEE @headlandscoffee .
新しくエクアドルがラインナップしました✋
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◼︎ ECUADOR Maputo and Hakuna Matata - Typica
FLAVOR NOTE: Floral, Lychee, Blueberry, Sugar cane, Super clean
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VARIETY: Typica
PROCESS: Washed
AREA: La Perla, Nanegal
PRODUCER: Henry and Verena Gaibor
ALTITUDE: 1350 m
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MaputoとHakuna Matataは Henry Gaiborと彼の妻Verenaが所有する農園です。マイクロミルを有し 独自に生産処理を行っています。
彼らは もともとは医療業務に従事しており、1996年に、当時 国境なき医師団のボランティアをしていた二人は、ブルンジの人道的危機の最中 ブジュンブラで出会いました。Henryはエクアドルのベテラン外傷外科医であり Verenaはスイスからの看護師でした。 1998年、2人はHenryの母国に戻り 13年間キトで診療所を経営した後、もうひとつの情熱であるコーヒーに時間とエネルギー 資源を注ぐことを決めました。 Henryは几帳面で 医師であった時と同じような集中力でコーヒー生産に向き合い、Verenaは 大変なプレッシャー下での看護師としての経験を活かして 農園管理を行なっています。また、彼らは一緒になって コーヒーチェリーのハンドピック、加工、乾燥を行っており、Cafe Importsのシニアグリーンコーヒーバイヤーである Piero Cristianiは、「夫妻は 私が今まで味わった中でも最高のコーヒーを生産している」と語っています。
彼らの農園は コロンビアの国境に近いピチンチャ州にあるNanegalのLa Perlaにあります。地域には特定のマイクロクライメイトがあり、標高は1350m程度ですが 湿度が高く 訪問すると午後には霧が浮かんでいるのをよく見かけます。夜になると急激に涼しくなり、その環境と品種の組み合わせがコーヒーにユニークな特徴を与えます。農園内のテロワールを明確に分類し、その特性あった品種(Tipica, Bourbon, SL28, Sidra, Kaffa, Caturra)をそれぞれの区画で栽培しています。
エクアドルでは Washed精製が一般的であり、このロットも同様です。品種由来のフローラルな印象に、テロワールの影響を感じさせるライチや 温度が下がってくるとブルーベリーのような果実��を 綺麗な質感の中で感じることができます。是非お試しください!
(HEADLANDS COFFEE)
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☕️ Single Origin Coffee Line-up
[Single O]
S) <20th Anniv. Blend> FESTIVAlL OF TWENTY
T) TANZANIA Shiwanda Estate
[Headlands Coffee]
T) ECUADOR Maputo and Hakuna Matata - Typica
[Coffee County]
T) RWANDA Ruli CWS - Lot 1005 ←残りわずか
T) HONDURAS Finca Don Juan
N) COLOMBIA Finca Juan Martin - Sidra ←残りわずか
[Sommarlek Coffee]
次回入荷を楽しみにしていてください
ー
Categories
T) The Specialty ...Terroir
C) Conceptual ...Sorting, Technology transfer
N) New Wave ...Innovative approach
S)) Special ...Winning lot, Top specialty
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
FLOWER COFFEE / BREW BAR
Weekday 10:00 - 18:00
Weekend/ Holiday 9:00 - 17:00
店舗休: 5月: 10, 17, 24, 31日
.
※ 警戒レベル3以上の悪天が見込まれる場合には予報に沿って営業スケジュールを調整します(なるべく早く店頭張り紙、SNS、Googleにて情報発信します)
ーーーーーーーーーー
神奈川県茅ヶ崎市東海岸北1-7-23 雄三通り
🚃 JR茅ヶ崎駅 歩8分
🚲 駐輪可 3台まで
🚗 駐停車不可(近隣駐車場をご利用ください、参考: 三井リパーク ¥200-/h)
🦠 周囲に配慮あるご利用をお願いいたします
ーーー
#thanxalways #newbeans #headlandscoffee #ecuador #maputo #hakunamatata #typica
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