Cafe of the World I

During the new year we spent a few days in Tahoe. On the last day, we stopped at Gear and Grind Café in Tahoe City for breakfast. The place is half ski/bike shop, half café. In the middle of the café are two couches, old but comfy. Behind the couches by the window, a couple of computers offer internet access. On the walls scatter posters, maps, ads, and photos. There is also a shelf of books and a sign that says “book exchange”.

Yeah I know this place. I’ve been here many times, only it was on a different continent, and in a different timezone.

Being there brought back such nostalgic feeling, almost homesick. During our year traveling, we’ve spent time at many cafes, to take a pit stop, to use the internet, or just to watch the world go by. For most of them, I can’t even remember if the coffee was any good or if the food was priced fairly. I just remember moments, feelings, and conversations.  I can’t even remember the name of many places where we spent much of our time.

There is this place in Lijiang, China where we went everyday to stuff ourselves with their Naxi breakfast. It is only after some googling I recall the name again. Prague Café. It sounds neither Chinese-y nor backpacker-ish. But it has everything a backpacker can hope for – internet (slow but bearable), book exchange, food reasonably priced and nice portion, and best of all, travel diaries left behind by many visitors. It is because of that we avoided some tourist traps the travel agencies about to set up for us. Some of the travel stories are fresh off the press, they were written just a couple of days before. It feels as if the ink was still drying as I read, and through that, some kind of inexplicable time-space connection has been made between me and writer, who I never met, and probably will never ever.

Prague Cafe, Lijiang, China

View from Prague Cafe

Speaking of China, I have to mention this other café in Yanshuo. Again, name forgotten, but that’s not important. Being an internet addict, I went straight to check my emails as we arrive. As soon as I left, the waitress came and sat down by Pascal and said she wants to practice English. So they talked, and I continued to check my email with a smirk. When I returned, he told me the waitress had lower her voice and whispered,

“is that lady your tour guide?”, she pointed my direction.

“no, she is my fiancée”.

“fiancée? what is that?”

“you know, one level above girl friend?” he replied, not sure how else to explained that

“ah I see”

She excused herself not long after that. (sorry girl, he is taken). I guess I did look a bit like a local tour guide with my piggy tails and very functional (but not esthetic) outfit.

There are also places that aren’t geared toward travelers, but we felt right at home nonetheless.

In Ushuaia, the southern tip of Argentina, there is this café we went everyday after returning from Antarctica and before catching the next cheap flight back to Buenos Aires. It doesn’t have internet access or book exchange, doesn’t have bunch of backpackers flipping through Lonely Planet, but the second floor has a huge window and a few really comfy couches. We sat there, ate, read, and just observed the streets beneath us. In this town, you can pretty much divide all the non-locals into two kinds – BA or AA. Not talking about airline here. They stand for Before Antarctica and After Antarctica. Everyone here is either here waiting to get on a ship to the Big South, or just return from there. We start to pick out people on the street and debate which group they belong to. Sometimes you just know.

One day, we heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a cheerful “Hey you guys!”, it turned out to be a friend we met at El Chalten, a small town in Patagonia. We chatted away and caught up like old friends, even though our “friendship” was based on a mere 10-minute conversation at the hostel we stayed. His name is Ido. Ido just got out of Israel army and wanted to be a writer. He, just like many young Israeli, decided to muster as much money as they can and bought a one-way ticket to South America. He slept at the cheapest accomodation possible, wrote whenever inspiration strikes. He had told us the night before he couldn’t sleep, and suddenly words start to flow in his head, he got up and wrote away till dawn. He showed us his notepad – a few crumpled napkins. He was excited to tell us a publisher back home wanted to publish his poems. I was almost jealous of this young, free spirit. As we grow older, we start to have more and more baggage. Sometimes it’s just responsibility that comes naturally when we grow old, sometimes it’s the comfort and habits that are hard to break, and sometimes the fact of  owning more means letting it go harder. It takes a certain amount of courage, and naivety to do that. I am glad we followed our gut and spent a year traveling, but there are certain things I couldn’t give up. Sometimes, when less choices are present in life, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. it might just keep you focused.

Ida, Pascal, and me @ the name-forgotten cafe in Ushuaia, Argentina

but i digressed, there are many more of our cafe experience i’d like to write about. i’ll write about them in the upcoming posts. stay tuned!

in the meantime, what is your favorite or most memorable cafe experience?

Advertisement