Coffee with Heart: Traveling to remote Ethiopia’s Gesha Village

The Heart of Gesha: A Journey to Ethiopia’s Coffee Heart

Sometimes, we let fear and worry cloud our experiences before they even begin. This journey to Ethiopia felt like that—a leap into the unknown. I was headed to visit Gesha Village, a remote 500-acre coffee farm producing some of the most remarkable coffee in the world. Before setting out, I had already braced myself for the worst. My doctor visits became almost routine, and each day brought another shot. I’d prepared for nearly every health risk I could imagine, head filled with all the internet warnings that make you second-guess a trip like this. I even packed a suitcase full of bottled water, a portable water purifier, canned goods, and instant noodles—every precaution I could think of to feel secure in an unfamiliar land.

The journey itself was an odyssey—a passage through bustling cities, vast skies, and the untouched beauty of Ethiopia’s Bench Maji region. It began, as many journeys do, at Manila’s Ninoy Aquino International Airport. The familiarity of the airport, that last taste of home, stood in stark contrast to the adventure that lay ahead. I boarded my flight to Hong Kong with a blend of anticipation and trepidation.

Hong Kong’s busy airport buzzed with a unique energy, a vibrant crossroads of cultures and people moving with purpose. I watched the crowds, knowing that soon I’d be stepping into a world entirely different. Boarding the flight to Dubai, I reflected on the strange, beautiful ways coffee and travel connect us all, bridging nations and traditions.

The long flight to Dubai offered quiet time to prepare for what lay ahead. The gleaming lights of the Dubai skyline receded as I departed, leaving luxury behind to seek something far deeper: connection, learning, and discovery. When we finally touched down in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia felt surreal. Exhaustion mingled with exhilaration as I stepped into the ancient capital, the air filled with unfamiliar scents—a mix of spices, warmth, and earth, reminding me I was far from home.

Yet the journey had only begun. as I set out by car for the final leg: a 15-hour drive through Ethiopia’s varied landscape to Gesha Village in the Bench Maji region. The road stretched endlessly before us, winding through bustling towns and quiet, tree-covered hills. Traditional Ethiopian homes and small villages lined the route, offering glimpses of a life deeply rooted in heritage and culture. Every mile felt like a step back in time, a step toward the heart of Ethiopia.

As we climbed into the highlands, the forest grew denser, the air cooler, and the remoteness more profound. Finally, we arrived at Gesha Village. There were no streetlights, no towering buildings—just the quiet, watchful presence of trees and stars above. Here, at last, was the birthplace of the coffee I’d traveled so far to experience, the place where I would finally meet the legendary Gesha beans.

Arriving in Ethiopia

Once we arrived, all my worries about Ethiopia melted away. The warmth of the people felt as rich and bold as the coffee itself. I met one of Gesha Village’s founders, Adam Overton, who quickly laughed off my checklist of vaccines. He hadn’t worried about half the shots I’d gotten when he first came to Ethiopia in 2011 to start the farm. I felt a bit embarrassed as he and the very accommodating team noticed my suitcase packed with canned goods, instant noodles, and bottled water—a survival kit I’d thought essential. Adam’s humor and easygoing nature reminded me that sometimes, our fears and anxieties prepare us for situations that don’t need anything more than an open heart.

Adam and his partner, Rachel Samuel, both former photographers and filmmakers, first came to Ethiopia in 2007 on a documentary project that changed their lives. They were captivated by Ethiopia’s coffee heritage and the beauty of its people and landscape. With backgrounds in storytelling, Adam and Rachel found themselves drawn not just to Ethiopia’s vibrant coffee culture, but to the idea of living it. Under the guidance of renowned coffee expert Willem Boot, they embarked on a journey that took them deep into the Gori Gesha forest—the birthplace of the legendary Gesha coffee variety. By 2011, they’d leased 471 hectares of land and committed their lives to creating the Gesha Village Coffee Estate.

Gesha Village is more than a business—it’s a calling. Adam and Rachel weren’t there just to grow coffee; they were there to make a difference. They worked hand-in-hand with the local Meanit people, ensuring that the estate respected the region’s traditions while fostering sustainable, environmentally friendly practices. They planted native shade trees among their coffee plants, a practice rooted in preserving biodiversity and the forest ecosystem. As a social entrepreneur, I understand that calling deeply. It’s about crafting impact alongside products, building a legacy that enriches lives and strengthens communities.

Gesha Village takes its name from the indigenous coffee variety grown here, a bean with a floral sweetness as distinct as the land itself. In every cup, you taste the devotion of people who genuinely care about what they’re creating. Adam and Rachel’s journey from storytellers to coffee farmers embodies their profound commitment to sustainability, community empowerment, and honoring Ethiopia’s coffee heritage. Their story is a reminder that sometimes, we are led to our true purpose in unexpected places.

Living in Isolation

The journey to Gesha introduced me to an isolation I hadn’t known before. Far from the familiar comforts of Manila, I found myself camping in the heart of the Ethiopian forest with no internet, no 7-11, and only limited electricity. We slept in tents, zipped up in sleeping bags as the temperature dropped to a chilly 10-15 degrees each evening. At first, the quiet and the cold unsettled me, a far cry from the warmth and hum of home. But as I settled into the highlands, the beauty of the surroundings, the sense of ancient stillness, took hold.

After a few days, I grew so accustomed to the place that I started taking morning hikes around the property, immersing myself in the forest’s cool, invigorating air. Each breath felt like a gift, filled with the fresh oxygen of dense, ancient trees. These hikes became a grounding ritual, a chance to connect more deeply with the land around me. The Gesha forest, at nearly 2,000 meters above sea level, was unlike any other place I’d experienced. Surrounded by towering trees and shrouded in mist, I felt humbled by the peace.

There were no mosquitoes here, unlike our buzzing Filipino forests—just the sounds of the forest at night and the crisp, cool air. The isolation that had frightened me at first became a comfort, a reminder of how much beauty lies beyond the screens and the noise. It was a chance to disconnect from the familiar rhythms and, instead, tune into the quiet majesty of the land.

The Coffee Paradox

One of the most striking—and heartbreaking—realizations of my journey was learning that Ethiopians rarely get to enjoy their best coffee. In a land where coffee originated, and where some of the world’s most prized varieties grow naturally, the best beans are reserved for export. By law, Ethiopia’s highest-quality coffee, from grades 1 to 4, is shipped abroad, leaving locals with grade 5 beans—those with the most defects and inconsistencies. The irony felt almost cruel: Ethiopia, famous worldwide for its coffee, is filled with people who rarely taste its finest flavors.

As a coffee professional, I knew the value of Ethiopian beans, but seeing this situation firsthand was sobering. Coffee is woven into Ethiopian culture, from the traditional coffee ceremonies to the livelihoods it supports. Yet, despite its deep cultural and historical significance, access to the top-tier beans is denied to the very people who cultivate them with such care and expertise. The high demand for Ethiopian coffee in international markets has, in a way, deprived locals of the pride and pleasure of savoring their own country’s finest product.

In the Philippines, we enjoy a privilege that Ethiopians do not—we are free to consume the best of our agricultural bounty. Our mangoes, bananas, and yes, our own coffee are ours to enjoy without restriction. Imagine if our sweetest mangoes or the best coffee from our highlands were only available to foreigners. The sense of loss I felt for Ethiopians was profound. For me, coffee is not just a product but a bridge connecting us to our culture, land, and people, and I felt strongly that Ethiopians should be able to celebrate their coffee legacy in full.

I left Ethiopia with a renewed sense of purpose, grateful for the freedom we have in the Philippines to enjoy the fruits of our own labor. I felt inspired to support efforts that make coffee accessible and meaningful for more people, not just as a commodity but as a shared experience. This paradox deepened my commitment to ensuring that more people, especially those in the Philippines, could savor the true flavors of coffee—not just as a taste, but as a symbol of pride, connection, and heritage.

A Mission to Learn and Share

My journey to Gesha wasn’t only about savoring new flavors; it was a mission to bring something back home that would resonate with the core of my work in the Philippines. I set out to source unique beans for the National Barista Championship, but more importantly, to learn how every part of the coffee plant could be used to create new opportunities for Filipino farmers. For me, coffee has always been about more than a cup; it’s a means to build connections, empower communities, and create sustainable livelihoods.

Coffee farming in the Philippines can be challenging. Our farmers harvest only once a year, which means income can be irregular. Many farmers take side jobs or even leave their families to work as OFWs just to make ends meet. My mission is to find ways to change this cycle and ensure that coffee farming becomes a sustainable, rewarding livelihood that allows farmers to stay close to home, with opportunities to thrive.

At Gesha, I discovered a multitude of possibilities. We experimented with making tea from coffee leaves, crafting syrups and jams from coffee cherries, and reimagining ways to use byproducts that would otherwise go to waste. Each discovery felt like a new pathway toward a model of sustainable coffee farming that could benefit farmers in the Philippines. The team at Gesha was excited to share their knowledge, reminding me of the strength in collaboration, not just within communities but across borders.

This experience reinforced my commitment to our mission: supporting Filipino farmers by offering tools, education, and resources to elevate the quality and sustainability of their work. My vision is to create an ecosystem where every part of the coffee plant, every step of the process, and every farmer’s effort is valued and utilized. In doing so, we can cultivate a future where Filipino coffee is recognized globally, where our farmers find fulfillment in their work, and where the coffee we produce becomes a symbol of pride and purpose. This journey was a reminder that transformation is possible when we combine innovation, community, and a shared vision for a better, more connected world.

A Dream for the Philippines

The heart of Gesha Village stayed with me as I returned to the Philippines, and one dream grew clearer. Imagine a place here, perhaps in La Trinidad or another highland community, that mirrors the magic of Gesha Village. We have lush, untouched lands ideal for agroforestry, lands where Filipino farmers could cultivate coffee with pride, achieving a quality that stands shoulder to shoulder with the world’s best. The idea of producing coffee here that could reach the prestige of Gesha, which retails up to $70 per kilo, is inspiring. Even a fraction of that value would be transformative, bringing prosperity to Filipino farmers and elevating our coffee on the global stage.

To make this dream a reality, it’s essential that we, as coffee professionals, recognize the immense value in coffee itself—the craftsmanship, the labor, the innovation, and the unique flavors each bean brings. For coffee to be sustainable, we need to respect every aspect of it and communicate its worth to others. As baristas, roasters, and coffee enthusiasts, it’s our responsibility to honor the journey of coffee from seed to cup and to make sure that each cup reflects the story, skill, and dedication behind it.

This vision goes beyond coffee as a crop; it sees coffee as a path to a sustainable future for our rural communities. It’s about creating a model where farmers can thrive without needing to leave their homes or families. A place like this would be more than a farm—it would be a community, an ecosystem that respects nature, and a center for innovation and education, empowering farmers with tools and knowledge to maximize every part of the coffee plant. By working together, learning from pioneers like Gesha Village, and embracing our unique resources, we can build a future where Filipino coffee is a source of pride and where our farmers feel the true worth of their labor.

I believe deeply that this dream can become a reality. The journey to Gesha showed me that coffee isn’t just a commodity—it’s a bridge that connects people, places, and possibilities. This dream is one that I carry not only for myself but for every Filipino coffee farmer striving to make a difference. We have so much to give, and with the right blend of heart, purpose, and connection, I know we can transform lives—one bean, one family, and one dream at a time. Through collaboration and a shared commitment to excellence, we can create a legacy of coffee that represents the best of what the Philippines has to offer.