Welcome to Monday Missions
Each Monday we will come up with a new theme and will specify the form of the post. You all have 6 days to come up with something cool to have a chance to win the prizes. Since we are already hosting some other competitions we decided to make this a themed one to really get the creative juices flowing!. If you want to participate in this week's Qurator proposal, here is the #link:
This week's topic:
Coffee
This is the story of Pedro Rodriguez, a coffee farmer who had his farm at the foot of the Andean mountain range. A very large farm of several hectares surrounded by beautiful landscapes and winding streams. He was a producer of a very special seed of coffee. He harvested his coffee with the "shade coffee" system. Which is that coffee tree that is planted under other trees.
He was convinced that he was fighting against deforestation and promoting biodiversity, since in this way the plants could live together with each other of their own species without the need to be disenvironed. In the region where he lived, economic life revolved around coffee production, since the composition of the soil and the climatic conditions were conducive to the cultivation of one of the best coffees in the country. He was a prominent coffee producer.
This coffee was very aromatic, delicate and super pleasant to the palate. Excellent bouquet. Without toxic fertilizers and with a minimum washing time of 4 hours. Then dried in the sun and stored. To be later packed and distributed.
Every afternoon after a long day, he would sit by his chapel to enjoy a delicious "baptized coffee" - the same coffee that his grandfather brought back from Spain in the 1930s and called "carajillo". This was a strong black coffee with a splash of brandy. This time at the entrance of the big house was like a ritual of tranquility; where he would tell his caporal when the woman of his dreams would appear. That he was getting a little old. And they laughed happily.
One of those many nights they heard some wailing far away and they stayed quiet to see where the sound was coming from. They heard nothing again, but they stopped and looked for the shotgun that was always behind the front door. They walked about a hundred yards and suddenly they heard the wailing again. They were on their guard and walked stealthily through the very dark countryside. Simply lit up in a certain way with the moon almost gone.
In the distance they saw a small silhouette and they turned towards it. They arrived and found a half-naked young woman. She was a young girl of about 20 years of age. She had long black hair and was crying inconsolably. Peter picked her up and put on the jacket she was wearing. And I ask her: What is your name and what do you do for these passages so alone on a night like this? The girl answered: I don't know my name and I don't know what happened to me. She seemed to be disoriented. They took her to the big house and gave her a little drink that she took in one go.
Of course she got drunk quickly. You could tell she wasn't used to such a strong drink. But her mood changed, she was more relaxed and she could finally smile. And she began to tell them about a dream she had had. I dreamt that I was walking on the clouds over some coffee fields. It was all so beautiful between mountains and rivers. The moon was my companion who lit up my path. I was very cold and suddenly I fell and reached these fields. I was very scared and I started to cry. I don't know if I lived it or if I dreamt it but it's all I remember.
The next day they went into town, to see if anyone knew her. But they didn't get any answers. Nobody knew anything about her. They left the police chief in charge of trying to find out about any disappearances in the area and returned to the farm where she easily adapted to the daily routines there. Days and months went by and nothing was known about who she really was. She and Pedro fell in love and shared the same tastes and many affinities. She was very sweet and kind; she made herself loved. Hard-working and enterprising. Until one day they started calling her The Queen of Coffee. And, colorín, colorado this story ended.
Translator used: DeppL.com
Café
Esta es la historia de Pedro Rodríguez, un caficultor que tenía su finca en la falda de la cordillera Andina. Finca muy grande de varias hectáreas rodeada de hermosos paisajes y serpenteantes riachuelos. Él era productor de una semilla muy especial de Café. Cosechaba su café con el sistema de “café bajo sombra”. Que es aquel cafeto que se siembra bajo otros árboles.
Él estaba convencido de luchar contra la desforestación y promovía la biodiversidad, dado que de esta forma las plantas podían convivir unas con las otras de su misma especie sin necesidad de ser desambientadas. En la región donde habitaba la vida económica giraba en torno a la producción de café, ya que la composición del terreno y las condiciones climáticas hacían propicio el cultivo de uno de los mejores cafés del país. Ël era un prominente productor de café.
Éste café era muy aromático, delicado y súper agradable al paladar. De excelente buqué. Sin fertilizantes tóxicos y con un lavado mínimo de 4 horas. Luego secado al sol y almacenado. Para posteriormente ser empacado y distribuido.
Todas las tardes después de una larga jornada se sentaba junto a su caporal a disfrutar de un rico “café bautizado”- Aquel mismo café que trajo su abuelo, allá por los años 30 de España y que lo llamaba “carajillo”. Este era un café negro fuerte con un chorrito de brandy. Este rato en la entrada de la casa grande era como un ritual de tranquilidad; donde él le comentaba a su caporal cuando aparecería la mujer de sus sueños. Que ya se estaba haciendo un poco viejo. Y se reían alegremente.
Una de esas tantas noches escucharon unos lamentos muy lejos y se quedaron callados para ver de qué lugar venía el sonido. No volvieron a escuchar nada; pero se pararon y buscaron la escopeta que siempre estaba detrás de la puerta principal. Caminaron como 100 metros y de repente volvieron a escuchar el lamento. Se pusieron en guardia y caminaron de una forma sigilosa por el campo que estaba muy oscuro. Simplemente iluminado de cierta forma con la luna casi perdida.
A lo lejos divisaron una pequeña silueta y se enrumbaron hacia ella. Llegaron y se encontraron una joven semidesnuda. Era una chica joven de unos 20 años de edad. Con una larga cabellera negra que lloraba desconsoladamente. Pedro la levantó y le puso la chamara que traía puesta. Y le pregunto: ¿Cómo te llamas y que haces por estos pasajes tan solos una noche como esta?. La muchacha le respondió: no sé cómo me llamo y no sé qué me ha pasado. Se veía que estaba desorientada. La llevaron a la casa grande y le dieron de beber un carajillo que lo tomó de un solo golpe.
Por supuesto se embriagó rápidamente. Se veía que no estaba acostumbrada a una bebida tan fuerte. Pero le cambió el ánimo, estaba más relajada y al fin pudo sonreír. Y les empezó a narrar un sueño que había tenido. Soñé que caminaba por las nubes sobre unos campos de café. Era todo tan hermoso entre montañas y ríos. La luna era mi compañera que me alumbraba el camino. Tenía mucho frío y de repente caí y llegué a estos campos. Me asusté mucho y me puse a llorar. No sé si lo viví o si lo soñé pero es de lo único que me recuerdo.
Al día siguiente fueron hasta el pueblo, para ver si alguien la conocía. Pero no obtuvieron respuesta alguna. Nadie sabía nada de ella. Dejaron encargado al jefe de la policía de que tratará de averiguar sobre alguna desaparición por la zona y regresaron a la finca donde ella se adaptó fácilmente a las rutinas diarias que se realizaban en ella. Pasaron los días y meses y nada que se sabía de quien era ella en realidad. Pedro y ella se enamoraron y compartían iguales gustos y muchas afinidades. Ella era muy dulce y amable; que se hacía querer. Trabajadora y emprendedora. Hasta que un día comenzaron a llamarla La Reina del Café. Y, colorín, colorado este cuento terminó.
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