A couple years ago I wrote a piece about the weird habit many of us have — me included — to dress differently when we’re traveling. When I’m in Europe, for example, I tend to think in terms of outfits with scarves and shoes that need polishing. Back in Montana, it’s centered around Tevas and quick-drying hiking clothes. (Please, do not ask me what I wear at home in between typing this, scrubbing the floor, canning peaches, and changing diapers.)

A cool story from NPR this morning about a genteel tea auction in Kenya sent me into a little nostalgia spin back to the time when I first started drinking tea, and why, and how my drinking habits vary depending on where I’m traveling to. (Before anyone starts sniggering, I’m thinking non-alcoholic drinks — I generally stick with wine or beer for booze, depending on where I am and what they specialize in, although I will try any country’s specialty [Uzo, Jenever, for example] even if just once.)

I grew up a coffee drinker. I picked up the habit from my mother, who still needs a strong cup or two to go to sleep, and refined it by going to high school in a town with its own fantastic coffee roaster. The habit only strengthened when my parents opened a coffee roasting business in Moscow (Montana Coffee, which my father is still president of) and I got a job in college working at Dunn Bros. Coffee in St. Paul, Minnesota, still some of the best roasted beans I’ve ever had. My family is now stuck in rut of coffee snobbery.

Tea came out of the blue, but it was a natural shift. It was, after all, for a guy, the one I’m now married to. In our St. Andrews dorm he courted me with … Nescafe. Boxed milk, no sugar. Now, I was happy to down Nescafe in Turkey because it’s what they gave us. But in Scotland? Unsweetened? For someone with a history of coffee snobbery? Brr. So I began asking about tea. I’d never liked tea growing up, but I realized that was due to the American penchant for fruity teas — raspberry, lemon — that tasted awful.

He taught me about black tea, Assam to be specific, how to brew it in a pot, how long to steep, when to wind it, to pour milk in the cups first, how he liked is, how I liked mine. And lo and behold, I fell in love with the moldy leaves. No sugar needed, just a splash of milk. For over 10 years now, it’s been what I drink at home, and I’m so fussy about it that I find it hard to consume elsewhere. We buy it in 2-pound bags from Special Teas, and are saddened when the monsoon season means we can’t get our favorite estate tea.

The first time she ever came to America, her first time on a transatlantic flight, my mother-in-law got off the plane shaky and woozy, and gratefully sat down in a cafe during our layover. She ordered — what else? — a cup of tea and nearly cried when someone set a glass full of ice and cold brown liquid in front of her. “Is that American tea?” she asked, ever so polite. The hot version wasn’t a whole lot better, and she finally went for coffee.

I do drink tea in England. How could you not? But when traveling, except where tea is excellent, my tastes shift back to coffee, and what I order switches constantly depending on where I am.

When visiting Montana I like to order the small hazelnut lattes I first grew to love at 16. In Russia, it’s strongly brewed Bodum press pots mixed with cream and sugar. I first associated Russia with drinking tea, the over-steeped, over-stewed leaves that sat for days in a tiny pot, being diluted ever more with hot water until every inch of tannin had been sucked out. But my father now runs a coffee roasting business there and I switched to coffee because I know it’s excellent.

Working at Dunn Bros. in college, I learned to make mocha steamers, a mix of cold-pressed coffee, chocolate, and drops of syrup that I fell in love with (and formed a daily, sometimes hourly, habit that forced me to quit the job in order to relieve the caffeine addiction). When visiting my older sister in Santa Cruz, CA, I always go for an iced chai mocha, which, like the mocha steamer above, I’ve never found anywhere else.

In Vienna it’s the classic melange served with sparkling water, in Australia it’s a cappuccino, in Britain it’s simply white coffee with raw sugar. In Portugal I tried everything described in my guidebook, partly as a way to practice pronunciation. I like to drink whatever the country makes best, just like with wine and beer.

I’m curious what others drink while away from home. Do you search for your favorite beverage? Are you desperate for your latte first thing in the morning? Or do you go for something different, spying out the tables around you to see what satisfies the local caffeine addiction?