Six in the morning. Since I can remember that is the time when my mother wakes up and starts making noise in the kitchen. Minutes later, the sound of a spoon crashing into a cup while stirring sugar makes the rest of my family wake up.

Being the youngest of 3 children, I had to watch how my whole family could drink from that black drink, but I refused; they only offered me a glass of chocolate drink that did not satisfy my curiosity to know what was the taste of that smell that was able to wake me up.

It is say that the pitcher goes to the water until it breaks, but I mean the patience of my mother, who gave in to put her finger in the cup and put some drops on my lips to stop insisting. I could not describe that experience with words, I only know that it was magic for my senses, so much so that I kept asking and day after day that scene was repeated until a few years later I finally managed to get my first cup of guarapo (coffee nothing strong).

They always warned me that drinking coffee would hurt me, that I would end up being an addict, that I would not grow up and my teeth would turn yellow. What do you think? The old ones are not always right, because the teeth if they lost their natural target and I consider myself an addict, but I did not stop growing.