Bolivian coffee flavor and taste introduction to boutique coffee beans in Manor

It was on the roof of Bolivia-South America, Sanmao was moved by the sight, and her compatriots of the same race a few generations ago also welcomed her with warm arms and watched her leave reluctantly. I see. Sanmao once said that La Paz was a beautiful lily blooming on the green grass of the plateau. Sanmao said, "its fragrance, I can never forget." so in such a cold winter, such a fragrance unexpectedly crossed thousands of mountains and rivers. Reappear in this small cup of amber liquid.

Yes, this cup of Bolivia is really quiet and beautiful. It has no strong aroma of fruit or individual flavor of dried fruit. It hardly makes people feel its uniqueness when it comes to the mouth. It just melts in the mouth and melts in the warm music of winter without emphasizing its name to me. But it can not be denied that it is such quiet and ordinary peace that makes the moment of this cold winter morning stop and then go back to those distant and beautiful memories and replay those beautiful scenery, characters, and stories.

The coffee in the cup is about to reach the bottom, but it still maintains the temperature of the palm of my hand. I took the last big sip deeply, at the bottom of the cup-there is really the fragrance of lilies! It is the white flower that is still blooming in the cliff crevice at the top of the mountain. Look! The cold wind is shining, isn't there still a tender green bud sticking out of the gently swaying white flowers?

My friend, if you ask me what Bolivian coffee looks like? I will tell you that it is like the lilies on the plateau, not fragrant enough, not gorgeous enough, nor so colorful and gorgeous, but it is always blooming quietly, even in the cold winter wind, and its aroma can not be encountered or sought-- unless you put your heart into it, you will be at the bottom of the cup after suffering. Seeing the lilies blooming quietly through the window, looking at the blue sea under the distant feet and the gradually dark camel beach in winter, the line was sometimes clear and sometimes blurred, and the sea breeze blew across the balcony. From that pot of cabbage leaves roared through-cold, is through the glass window scenery, and I, is exposed to warm soft music filled with the shop, even the palms of hands It was also warm-- only then did I realize that I had drunk most of the coffee in my hand, and then I realized that the name of this cup of coffee-- Bolivia, suddenly popped out of my mind-- the lilies of the plateau-- and suddenly the scenery outside was covered by a curtain, and then there was a new scene, another plateau view of the South American continent: the plane landed in a small depression on the ridge of the South American roof. When you walk out of the cabin, you can still smell the sunshine on the wings. With one heart and one mind to hand over the "future" to the "Heavenly Road", the road of death at an altitude of 4000 meters above sea level is unexpectedly leisurely in the thrill, the heart is infinite, and the road is also wide. Isn't the car walking on the rugged mountain road a swing hanging in the mountains? And after crossing the mountains, there is a fairyland of its own-- that is the mirror of the sky, the Great Salt Lake of Uyuni, a fairy tale, a dream, a spotless mirror far away from reality, sorrow and joy, and a spotless mirror in which the heart can really approach this bright and pure mirror-- become clear and flawless at that moment. Boating in the endless blue waves of the tick pot, the lingering heart longs to sink to the bottom of the lake in search of fish, shrimp and aquatic plants; groups of alpacas run on the boundless oil-green prairie with white clouds and hearts