A R G E N T I N A
Coffee as Dark as the Tango is Sexy
By Jennifer Block

The people of Buenos Aires are involved. Fiery, passionate, sometimes dark, aware, artistic; gorgeous. So is their coffee. Imagine you stumble into a café ;maybe a dark, smoky, secluded affair in San Telmo, or a sunny, pristine, folded-napkin type joint in Recoleta. If it's first thing in the morning-never before ten, you'll order the standard breakfast of medialunas, three tiny but delicious croissants, sweet or plain, and a café con leche. No, don't you dare get up. Sit down and be served. There are no lines, no Order Here, Pick up Here; no foul-tasting cardboard cups and no messy milk thermoses to pump.

Sit. Have a cigarette. Read the paper. Chat with the owner. Stare into your lover's slightly hung-over eyes. The coffee and croissants may take some time. Ah, here's where you get involved. The waiter is on his way maybe he's a skinny young, nervous looking gent in a black suit with a bowtie. Or maybe it's the owner, a slightly crusty, middle-aged and pudgy sort, who shows much concern for your customer satisfaction.

The waiter is carrying a tray of two bulbous cups, two saucers, and two medium-sized metal carafes. Your cup and saucer are placed neatly in front of you, clink, clink. Your coffee is being poured.

Here! Here's where you need to engage. You must say bueno, or gracias when it's enough. This requires careful planning and quick reflexes-for how much milk will you want? Half and half? A creamy beige color, or an earthier hue? It's your call.

Bueno, you say. Well, maybe you said it too soon, but you'll get it right the next time. The waiter switches carafes and tops off your coffee with frothy steaming milk. Sugar packets you'll have to deal with yourself.

Lift the cup; smell, sip. Mmmmmm...Perfecto.

Quintessential Brew: Head to the historic Café Tortoni, on Avenida de Mayo. Even if you skip the coffee for a glass of wine and a plate of assorted olives, pate, and cheeses, it's simply the best.

Caffeine Quotient: It all depends on when you say when.

Artiste Factor: Head to the Plaza Dorrego in San Telmo in the afternoon. Look out for the mime who pretends to be head-over-heals in love with every lady he lands his eyes upon.

Price-to-Starbucks Ratio: Depends on value of the Peso. But no matter what the IMF is up to, it's more buzz for the buck.

V I E T N A M
Ain't No Such Thing as Decaf Ca Phe Sua Da
By Matt Gross

It's impossible to go a day in Vietnam without a cup of coffee. This is not the confession of a caffeine addict, nor some complaint about how hard life is there. No, it's simply that coffee is everywhere (no surprise in a country that is now flooding the world market with cheap beans from the Central Highlands) and that the ten o'clock coffee break is an immensely welcome respite from the prospect of actually working, even if you don't have a job. When you factor in the weather (hot most of the year, really hot the rest of the time) plus the most popular beverage "ca phe sua da", a.k.a. iced coffee with condensed milk, it's not at all unusual to find yourself gulping down three or four cups a day.

Deciding where to drink each ca phe sua da, however, may present a problem, if only because there are so many options: The streetside stand with its half-dozen beach chairs? The student hangout, where gangly boys make eyes at tables of shy girls? The air-conditioned café blasting recycled V-pop at decibles to match the traffic outside? The quiet side-street garden frequented by aging revolutionaries in berets? The ubiquitous, Starbucks-like chain, Trung Nguyen, where you can select from a dozen different beans?

At times it's easier just to call down to the street for someone from the nearest café, and have them carry a tray-complete with pot of bitter jasmine tea, which accompanies every coffee order, right to your office, apartment, or hotel room. But regardless of where you take your break, the point is to watch the cup fill up, stir your ice one more time, and relax. The coffee's not going anywhere, and neither are you.

Quintessential Brew: Ca phe sua da, iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk (sua); Vietnamese tend to like about a whole lot more sua than Americans.

Caffeine Quotient: High-octane. The brewing method, a cup-top sieve called a coffee fin, combined with the roasting style, which usually involves butter and sugar, infuses every drop with a wallop.

Artiste Factor: There's a café for every clique: musicians, filmmakers, college students, wealthy children of politicians, etc.

Price-to-Starbucks Ratio: Cheap. A quarter a cup at a stand, a buck at most in a café.

I T A L Y
The World Will End Without Espresso
By Jeff Booth

Step into Café Simoncini, a simple, perfect bar in the hilltop medieval town of Macerata, a bar like a thousand others throughout Italy. Gilded mirrors line the walls behind shelves of liqueurs and wines, La Repubblica lies on one of the café tables, and Pierrino paces back and forth behind the countertop juggling the line of shouting friends and customers like a circus performer with his lions. Squeezing between the crowds smoking and drinking their afternoon espresso, you catch his eye, he nods, and in a moment your black espresso with shaved rind of lemon, yellow on white china, clinks on the bar in front of you. Drink it quickly while standing, chat with a few new friends about the Juventus soccer match on Sunday, and leave your money on the bar. No need to linger forever, you'll be back. After dinner espresso, tomorrow morning's cappuccino, a mocha at lunch...

Quintessential Brew: There is only one real coffee drink in Italy: an espresso. Dress it up however you want, a macchiato, a cappuccino, a correcto with liqueur but all comes back to the power of espresso.

Caffeine Quotient: It's strong stuff, all the better for waving your hands wildly during conversations.

Artiste Factor: Everyone has a coffee or four during the day, so there's not too many faux-artiste types sitting around in cafés pretending to be intellectuals, unless they're tourists.

Price-to-Starbucks Ratio: Now that the lira's gone, all those extra zeros won't make a coffee seem too expensive. Standing at the bar for an espresso costs just under a standard Starbucks grande (and they don't use that term in Italy), but if you sit down at a table you could easily pay $5 U.S. for your coffee. Double that in tourist black holes like the cafés along Piazza San Marco in Venice.

Photos by ToGo, Jeff Booth (last two)