Travelogue 5 —Breakfast Before the Bazaar

One of the pharmacists most asked for tonic is a hangover cure. There are thousands of recipes, each promising to be better than all others. None of them is truly 100% effective: even the most masterful concoction can’t wash out the last remaining crumble of discomfort. Probably the reason is there is no cure for regret and self-loathing (but believe me, many are trying).

We took our time to go to the bazaar, still groggy despite my best efforts, but it was such a big deal: the dwarven district is just nearby, over the Leviathan Bridge that crosses the river. It’s quite the view: the bridge is tall, and from above, you can see how the river splits the city in half.

All the streets of Mizani are a mish-mash of architectural styles from different lands and periods, but you always have a sense of what neighborhood you are in. Here, many alleys go through the buildings, like two blocks had grown so much they become one, leaving only a tunnel between them. Where the streets are wider, they are narrowed down by many awnings, tents stretching out of shops, and protruding terraces. The shade cast by these features was welcome, as the summer sun was already scorching. The dwarves worship the sun but with fearful respect more than loving adoration, with her rays being both terrifying and exhilarating. The rooftops are flat, so they can host their rites, the entrances are often below street level, to keep cool in the ground. Bazim rolled down a couple of staircases while warning us of them.

The docks were busy and marvelous, with massive vessels being unloaded by people and constructs of every kind.
We joined some elderly people gazing in awe at a golem tall like a two-story house that was picking up marble blocks and putting them on a ship. Not too far from us curious, a Triton merchant was shaking in fear of one of the precious cargo he had just bought, reassured by a dwarven woman, all covered except a slit for her eyes. She was the owner of the golem and when it jerked like it was cramping she shouted some insult at the pilot inside the construct, then quickly went back to calm the triton client.
A group of Minotaur ladies seemed going around like they owned the place, they held enormous baskets and crated on their heads, some with their kids tied on their back or even on their front, nursing them. Lord Neberius recollected his visit to Geteberan, Anapt capital, where the Minotaur ladies run the harbor with thuggish ways, and probably do so here too.
They were not the only group, as many different “porter enterprises” work there, mostly hanging around in some groups waiting for someone to call them up. They gather around some kiosks, cabins not much bigger than an armoire, where drinks and snacks are sold. Since we skipped breakfast we tried a Kafea.
Kafea is a hot drink made of chicory roots, roasted and ground, and then brewed in hot water. It’s a typical orchish beverage, almost like their tea. Since orcish culture has become popular in the empire recently, I had the chance to try it a couple of times. It is too bitter for me, but I could not say no to something so “genuine”, as the Lord said very excited by the prospect.
The orc girl brought out the silver pot, putting it on a stool near the crates we were sitting on. We took a sip from the small cups together, and then, in perfect unison, we made an uncontrollable chorus of grunts and a choreography of grimaces. We were overwhelmed by the bitterness. Furthermore, the Kafea was astringent, leaving the mouth in a paradoxical state of wet dryness.
The girl saw our disgusted faces and brought us a plate with three small snacks. “You are too impatient, eat this before drinking”, she said, making gestures to be sure the message came across. They seemed like tarts, small brown cakes, but they were just discs of the soft inside of a bread loaf soaked in honey. Just a corner of the bread was dry and we took it from there to eat it. Alternating the sweet and the bitter ended up being a nice experience. But the viscount knew this was not something “truly orcish”, and asked through me for the genuine accompaniment. The girl, quite impressed by the lord’s interest, brought another plate, this time the bread was soaked in lard.
The lard was warm, with a cream-like consistency, and also kind of sweet and that helped with the bitterness. Also the fat sort of coated the mouth, tempering the astringent. Still, not something I would try again.
While we were there a lot of people, mainly dwarves passed and for a copper, they got a small cup and a snack, often they didn’t even sit, they just drank and ate on the spot.
Despite the disconcerting flavor, the Kafea and the little cakes did their job, giving us a boost in energy and washing away the last residues of last night. With renewed vigor, we went to the bazaar.

note:
I would love to analyze the Kafea in a laboratory to know if it has some exciting chemicals or if the waking-up effect is only due to the sensorial shock of its taste.