The Italian morning caffè ritual is already extremely fast: the barista works at the speed of light and the coffee you get is pretty standard, but in exchange you get a moment to rub shoulders "al banco" with others like you about to go into work, or elders just getting out of the house, a mother taking her kid to school, a policeman taking a break. You say hi to the same few people you've been seeing at the establishment for years. It's familiar and heartwarming.

It's a sprinkling of human connection as you start your day. A small homage to the tradition of coffee culture. Your grandparents did it, your parents did it, you did it, your kids will do it, etc. You rejoice in knowing that, as everything else changes around you, maybe this one minuscule secular ritual will stand the test of time and provide a symbolic sense of continuity with the past.

Part of the issue is Americans get huge drinks to go. Italy seems to have espresso available on every corner so people just stop when they want one.

I love living in Italy and being part of the local cafe ritual. It’s one of the things that drew me here.