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What I love about London is its international vibe.

I have spent my morning coffee surrounded by a table of loud Spanish girls on one side and a smooching Russian couple on the other side. 
Where else could I have such free entertainment? To add to the surreal side of my morning coffee, the office building next to the coffee shop was being emptied and the pathway was full of lovely yellow leather sofas of all shapes and sizes and small wooden office tables. It was all being charged in huge lorries. Completely surreal, especially on a Monday morning.
Things keep moving in London, nothing stays forever, and maybe the office block next to my coffee shop will soon be redeveloped with swanky and very expensive new flats. I wonder.
One thing that doesn’t seem to change is my love for my morning coffee. I need caffeine to wake up, no matter what.  I wonder why that is. Is it the coffee that I enjoy, or simply the ritual of having coffee somewhere outside of my house? I don’t know.
I like good coffee, and I walk a bit further than me nearest coffee shop to go to a small chain I like.
I can’t stand coffee of poor quality. Good coffee is warm and a bit bitter. Its taste slowly fills the mouth. Heaven.
Talking about coffee, I noticed, when I was in New York, that lots of independent coffee shops have opened and they serve excellent espressos. It doesn’t come cheap (such boutique coffee shops serve espressos at 3 dollars a pop) but waking up in a good mood doesn’t have a price, right? I was glad to see that I was not the only one to enjoy good coffee.
Funnily enough, France doesn’t seem to have this culture of good coffee. Some Starbucks have started to appear, but no other chains and no coffee shop at each corner of the street like over here.
If you want a coffee there, you are likely to have to go to a bar. You might also see some local people starting to drink a few glasses of wine there. First thing in the morning. Not nice. I much prefer my lovely coffee shop in London.
I think that it can only mean one thing: I couldn’t go back to live in France. Where would I have my coffee?
Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London