Nescafé, a quest for better coffee

When I arrived on Tuesday night I stayed at an Airbnb in Tel Aviv, where the host showed me the Nescafé container and described it to me as coffee. For those who have never suffered this horror, Nescafé is instant coffee, and for some reason it is a favorite among Israelis and Palestinians alike. I think we can all agree that what we see below is not coffee.  

When I woke up, I figured it couldn't be as bad as I remembered and wouldn't it be responsible of me to drink free coffee rather than go purchase it. Feeling proud of myself I turned on the kum kum, jammed a spoon into this bottle, and found crunchy hard Nescafé refusing to budge from the bottle unless I hammered it with my spoon. Thankfully after a full night of jet lag and Xanax and melatonin induced slumber, I felt well rested enough to head out on the mean streets of Tel Aviv and search out coffee. Finding my coffee shop Hebrew still on top form, I enjoyed a cappuccino on the patio of a cute cafe by my apartment. 

Flash forward two days and here I sit drinking Nescafé like its my favorite thing. 

It has been one full day with the students plus their arrival day, and already I'm exhausted. Who knew undergraduates could be so loud? I feel like I am living in Markley, my freshmen dorm, again. Last night we lied to them and told them the hotel staff had complained about their noise level so they had to keep it down. This worked for all of one hour and I promptly went to sleep, only to be awoken by the sounds of hysterical laughter and yelling. 

 I learned yesterday that if one holds out until breakfast is served, one can acquire Turkish coffee, a far better treat. Yet my poor coffee addicted self cannot handle two hours of being awake without any caffeine. So now at 6 am I find myself the only one awake, enjoying the cool morning breeze, happily drinking my Nescafé as if it is as delicious as a Roo's Roast Lobster Butter latte, and ready to head back downstairs for a second round.