jitters

She looked at me startled, and repeated the sounds as if they were new to her ears and her tongue.

“de-caf”

I nodded and repeated clearly, confidently. “DECAF.”

She answered, “OK,” cheerfully, and went to place my order.

Surely, surely this employee of this particular coffee shop—whose big selling points are their western atmosphere and decaffeinated coffee—surely she understood “decaf.”

There is, of course, a way to say “decaffeinated coffee” in the local language. It's more like a phrase, which literally translated comes out to be something like, “coffee that doesn't have the drug caffeine in it.” I have used that phrase with limited success here, usually to have the national argue with me that coffee doesn’t have drugs in it.

So I typically just stick with “decaf”. In an establishment like this, it usually works.

However, about half-way into my caramel macchiato, I knew it had failed me this time. My racing heart, shaking hands and rising sense of anxiety were ample evidence that this coffee did, in fact, have drugs in it.

Ugh. And so I fought jitters the rest of the morning and on into the afternoon. In spite of my keyed up state, I managed to have a few really good hours with God. Then met Mr. for lunch. Home and translated a document all afternoon. (Try doing THAT with a coffee buzz going!) Fortunately, my mind loves thinking in that way; working my way through a translation is sort of like trying to solve a puzzle. I find it very stimulating.

Mr. made supper (good guy) and now we're about to head out to the airport for round two of seeing our friends off. Let's hope things go better this time! No, wait. They just called. Another hour delay. Looks like I have time to post this before we leave, after all.