“Aquí y Ahora” Between Coffee Trees

In this conversation, Hudes Magazine speaks with Vera Richartz, a Q Arabica Grader from Germany and co-founder of Cofitur, a project focused on connecting people with coffee origins through travel and direct experiences. Over the years, Vera has spent a great deal of time moving between cultures, especially in Latin America, where coffee slowly became tied to something much more personal than just taste or profession.

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We talked about origin trips, the gap between producers and consumers, the pressure inside specialty coffee, and the simple moments that continue to stay with her, like drinking coffee with producers after hours of work on a finca. 

For readers who may not know you yet, how would you introduce yourself beyond the titles and certifications?

I would probably describe myself as someone who is deeply curious about people and the contexts they live in, where things come from, who is involved, and what shapes them along the way.

I’ve always felt a strong connection to different cultures and perspectives, and especially to Latin America. Over time, that connection became more than just an interest, it became something very personal. It’s a region that has shaped the way I see the world, and also the way I relate to people.

Coffee eventually became the medium through which all of these interests came together, culture, economics, sensory perception, trade, and human connection. It allows me to connect with people, cultures, and places in a very direct and honest way.

Over the years, I consciously built a more structured understanding of coffee through professional education across multiple SCA disciplines, sensory training, and eventually becoming a licensed Q Grader. But for me, technical knowledge only becomes meaningful when it remains connected to people and origin.

Beyond any titles, I spend a lot of time moving between different worlds and trying to make sense of them, both for myself and for others.

Can you tell us a little about where you grew up and what kind of person you were before coffee became part of your life?

I grew up in Germany, but I never felt entirely defined by one place. Early on, I was drawn to what exists beyond the familiar, different cultures, languages, and ways of seeing the world.

That curiosity led me to study Latin American Studies and Economics and later pursue an MBA, but more importantly, it led me to spend a significant amount of time in the region. I’ve traveled to Latin America more than 20 times, often working in international environments where you constantly navigate between perspectives.

Speaking multiple languages and moving between very different environments taught me early on how important context is, especially in industries like coffee, where people from completely different realities work around the same product.

Before coffee, I was already someone who tried to understand contexts rather than just surfaces, how things are connected, what shapes them, and how people experience them differently depending on where they are. And that’s exactly what I found in coffee, too.

Looking back, do you remember the moment when coffee stopped being just a drink and became something more meaningful to you?

Yes, there was a very clear moment. I think many people enter the coffee world through working as a barista. For me, it was the opposite. It started at origin, during my first trip to Colombia.

My friend — who is now also my business partner — took me to cuppings, but what stayed with me even more were the moments on the farms. I remember standing between coffee trees, smelling the blossoms for the first time, watching the pickers and beginning to understand how much work and precision goes into every single cherry.

I had breakfast on the finca with producers and their families, not as a visitor passing through, but as someone slowly becoming part of the environment.

Coffee stopped being something abstract, it became something real, something lived.

How did your journey into specialty coffee begin, and what kept you staying in this industry?

My journey into specialty coffee didn’t begin in a café, it began at origin. After my first experiences in Colombia, I came back with more questions than answers. I had seen how much work and precision goes into coffee long before it reaches a cup, and that changed everything.

At some point, I realized that passion alone is not enough in coffee. If you really want to understand quality, sensory perception, and the industry itself, you need structure, technical knowledge, and the right education. That’s also why I decided to continue my education across different SCA disciplines and later pursue the Q Grader certification in Istanbul with Yunus Çakmak and his team, which gave me a much more structured and technical understanding of coffee.

When I started working in specialty coffee, I often heard the phrase “it’s a people’s business.” At first, it sounded like a cliché,  but it’s true. Coffee always comes back to people: their decisions, their realities, their work.

I kept learning, but what stayed with me were the relationships. In the end, it comes down to a simple moment, a cup of coffee you share with someone.

Over time, I also realized how big the gap between origin and consumption still is. That shaped my work with my company Cofitur and my new company Beanivo, where I focus on making producers more visible globally.

I stayed because I felt there is still something to build and to connect.

You co-founded Cofitur, a project focused on connecting people with coffee origins through travel. What was the deeper idea or feeling behind creating it?

With Cofitur, the idea was never just to organize trips. I often saw that people in specialty coffee know a lot about preparation — how to brew, roast, grind, and taste coffee — but have very limited exposure to where it actually comes from.

That gap is what led to Cofitur. We create a structured way to experience origin — with context, guidance, and direct access to the right people and places. But it’s not about presenting a polished version of coffee or a reality built for tourists. We show what is actually there, everyday life on a working finca, real environments, real routines.

For me, it’s about making coffee accessible in a deeper, more honest way.

Cofitur describes its trips as being about “real people & real coffee.” In your experience, what makes a coffee journey feel truly human rather than just touristic?

A journey becomes human when it allows space for real interaction, not staged, not rushed, not curated for effect.

It’s in the small, unplanned moments. Conversations that unfold naturally, without everything being controlled or explained. Situations that are not optimized for comfort.

When people stop being visitors and start being present, even if only for a short time, something shifts.

Many people see specialty coffee as a beautiful and aesthetic world. But personally, what has been the loneliest or most exhausting part of your journey?

I think the most exhausting part has been carrying the gap between what I’ve experienced at origin and what is often understood on the consuming side.

Specialty coffee is often presented as something very aesthetic, and while that’s part of it, it’s only one side of the story. What is often not visible is the work, the uncertainty, and the economic reality behind it.

Coffee is a global industry where a lot of money is being moved, but that doesn’t always translate into understanding. That often means explaining how prices are formed, why coffee costs what it costs, and why it cannot be compared to what you find in a supermarket.

Specialty coffee can be incredibly welcoming on the surface, but it is also a highly competitive industry where many people are ultimately fighting for visibility, positioning, and economic survival.

Especially as a smaller company trying to work responsibly with producers, you constantly face the tension between economic reality and ethical responsibility.

That constant translation, especially in markets like Germany, can be demanding. And at times, it feels isolating.

You says “connecting people & places”. Beyond branding, what does that sentence truly mean to you?

It means responsibility. When you connect people and places, you also connect expectations, perceptions, and sometimes very different realities.

For me, it’s not about creating a beautiful image, it’s about creating understanding, even when that understanding is complex.

That’s also part of why I started working on Beanivo, a platform where you can discover producers worldwide ina structured way, because I believe producers still lack structured global visibility, even though they are the foundation of the entire industry.

Through your origin trips, was there ever a small moment with a farmer or local community that quietly changed the way you see life?

One moment that stayed with me is lunchtime on the farm, when the pickers come back from the first shift. Everyone gathers, there’s coffee for all, and a simple meal is shared together.

It’s a break in the middle of physically demanding work and yet there is no rush. People sit, talk, laugh, and are fully present.

It made me understand what “aquí y ahora” really means. Even within a routine shaped by hard work, there is space for presence.

Whenever im rushed in this european everyday life, I come back to the coffee break with the producers. There's always time for a smile and a short conversation with someone. You dont always need to rush.

Many people chase certifications and achievements in coffee. After becoming a Q Grader, did your relationship with coffee change in any way?

Becoming a Q Grader gave me a much more precise and structured way of evaluating coffee. It refined not only my palate, but also the language and analytical framework I use when talking about quality.

Through SCA education and sensory training, I learned how to approach coffee more systematically, across roasting, brewing, green coffee, sensory analysis, and cupping.

At the same time, the more you learn, the more aware you become of the limitations of standardization and scoring systems.

You can analyze a coffee, describe it, assign a score, but that will never capture the full picture.

Frameworks like those from the Specialty Coffee Association create a shared language and help structure knowledge, but they also come with barriers, especially in terms of access.

For me, it didn’t change coffee itself, it changed how I approach it. It made me more aware of what lies beyond the cup, and more humble in how I think about it.

When visiting coffee origins, what are you really searching for: flavor, human stories, or a sense of belonging?

Of course, tasting coffee at origin is an incredible experience, you can sense the freshness, and every cupping feels different, but what I’m really searching for is a deeper understanding of the relationships behind coffee.

And if there is a sense of belonging, it comes from realizing that we are all working on the same product, just from different sides.

Social media often shows the beautiful side of coffee travel. What are the realities that cameras rarely capture?

Much of what defines coffee doesn’t easily translate into images. There is a level of complexity that often remains invisible. How prices are negotiated, what risks producers take, and under which conditions they work.

In countries like Colombia, being a coffee producer is often a conscious decision, sometimes against other economic alternatives.

These realities are not visible, but they shape everything, including how we think about value and pricing in Europe.

You often move between cultures, countries, and communities. Has that ever made you feel “at home everywhere,” or sometimes “not fully at home anywhere”?

More the first. I think moving between different cultures and countries actually taught me how many similarities people share, no matter where they are from.

Over time, I learned to feel comfortable in very different environments and to connect with people quite naturally, whether in Germany, Colombia, or somewhere completely new.

For me, feeling at home is less about one fixed place and more about openness, connection, and the people around you.

How would you define success today compared to five years ago?

Five years ago, when everything suddenly stopped during the pandemic, it forced me to rethink what success actually means.

Before that, it was more about movement and growth. Today, it’s more about alignment, doing things that feel right and meaningful over time.

Lastly, what would you say to young people in specialty coffee who are currently feeling insecure, lost, or left behind in their journey?

I’ve felt that too and I still feel it sometimes. Take your time. Focus on understanding, not just on visibility. Build real relationships. There is no single right way.

In the end, it often comes back to a simple moment, sharing a cup of coffee with someone and being fully present. (Hudes Magazine)