With inspiration from Grant McCracken and Russell Davies, a friend of mine has embarked on an interesting mission. He is starting a series of café observations by neighborhood and has invited others to pIay with him. He has also started a blog about it and I will provide a link at the end of this post. Please email me if you would like to participate.
I am really excited to collaborate on this café observation project. I relish any opportunity to people watch. I realize this is what I normally do anyway in my head; the only difference is now I am putting my thoughts to paper. I decided to go old school and leave my laptop at home. I figured the free Wi-Fi would be a distraction and I would be drawn to play on facebook or twitter, instead of focusing on what is going on around me. Scribbling my thoughts with a pen and paper while sipping my cup of earl grey, made me feel like a 50’s beatnik jotting down introspective poetry. Anyway here it goes…
Taste of Rome Cafe formally known as Café Trieste
6/24/10 1-2 pm
Notes:
I hear the mind numbing sound of hundreds of vuvuzelas.
I glance up at the counter and see two HD TV’s tuned loudly to the World Cup (Japan vs. Demark).
A man with a thick Italian accent stands behind the counter. He calls me Bella. I smile and order a cup of Earl Grey and Insalata Caprese.
Café is crowded, everyone seems glued to the game.
Bikers riding through town stop in. Sweaty and wearing too much spandex. They order iced coffees and grab a table outside.
The hot mamas brigade comes in next, struggling to fit the strollers through the door. There are three of them. They order non-fat lattes and gossip. 2 toddlers and one infant sleep soundly in their strollers.
Biker in a white Nike hoodie sits next to me. He places his sunnies on top of his head. Orders a strawberry smoothie and watches the game.
Buzz…
Older man in glasses and 80’s jean jacket recognizes a beautiful young French woman. They have a brief exchange. The French woman approaches me. Starts to speak French. I remember my new Amelie-like hair cut and respond in English. She tells me she likes my necklace. She smiles and dances away.
I am interrupted by my salad. Nike hoodie biker gets his pasta. It smells delicious.
A group of tourists walk in. SF sweatshirts and cameras blazing. They take photos.
A collective groan comes from the crowd. Japan just scored.
Man at the corner table looks like Bogart. He is wearing a fedora hat. He is hunched suspiciously over his computer. I get up to grab some napkins so I can peek at his screen. Extremely disappointed he is on Facebook.
Local man walks in. He looks like a silver fox. Shoulder length silver hair, white button down shirt, flip flops, age unknown. Everyone knows him. He is a legend here. He doesn’t order just sits down and his glass of red wine is brought to him. Everyone else orders at the counter. He sits down alone at a table for 4. I am intrigued. His name is Robert. I hear the bus boy call him that. I look at him a little too long. Oh no. He catches me. He smiles. I smile back but quickly look away.
A sleeve tatted Irish man enters. He has a shaved head. He is wearing all black. He scans the room for an out of the way table. He glances at his phone. He is waiting for someone.
A young woman enters with brilliant red hair. She is wearing a navy sundress with black converse. She has a Celtic tattoo on her back. She spots the Irish guy he rises to meet her. They embrace and sit down. I stop watching them. Feels like I am interrupting an intimate moment.
Italian man behind the counter is distracted by the game. The natives in line are growing restless.
The game is over. Final score Japan 3 Denmark 1.
The café seems to clear out after. The cool breeze from outside sweeps through the once crowded room.
Here is the link to my friend's Hoodmapped blog:
No comments:
Post a Comment