East Village Vignette
East Village Coffee Shop. Monterey, California. 7:45am. A Monday. California sun flooding the main room that’s not sure if it’s a coffee shop or a bar. Both, I guess. A neon Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. sign illuminates a dozen Torani flavored syrups on the shelf below it. Hazelnut. Vanilla. Caramel. Is that bacon flavor I see? I’ve always delighted in looking at those pretty bottles. Hate syrup in coffee. Love the Italian bottles. They first debuted in North Beach, San Francisco in the late 1920s. Italian soda had arrived in this Italian girl’s favorite Little Italy. We were just there last week. I love getting around.
This place is convincing. Authentic. High ceilings. Stone walls. A real fireplace. Edison light bulbs. Not too many. Just enough. Assorted pastries in a refrigerated case. Just a few fingerprints on the glass. Enough to make it seem friendly. Not too many to make it seem scungy. Day olds wrapped in plastic wrap – the dividing line between a community coffee shop and a corporate enterprise. I think I’ll throw all caution to the wind, leave my Mac plugged in right here and walk all the way across the shop to refill my cup. Here goes nothing.
Okay I’m back. My stuff is still here. This place passes the test. A guy just walked in wearing his sock feet. Something about being sore from hiking. Okay. No shirt, no shoes, no service does not apply. I like things a little salty. That’s cool.
Coffee shop music is important. A determining factor to should I stay or should I go. By golly, this place got it right. “Just one look at you and I know it’s gonna be A LOVELY DAY A LOVELY DAY.” That’s right Bill Withers, it is going to be a lovely day. James Taylor. Seals & Crofts. “Oh oh you’ve got the best of my love…” I query Uncle Google. The Emotions recorded it in 1977, great year. Another piece of music knowledge for the jukebox in my brain.
This place seems to be a dude hangout. Cue “It’s Raining Men.” Some coffee shops attract women, others are magnets for man dates. I’m not talking early morning hookups. I’m talking the neighborhood retired fellas all showing up for a cup or three. They sit at big wooden tables and solve the world’s problems, make off-color comments about the passers by and lean in for competitive conversation over little lattes. I could watch and listen all day.
The barista told one of them, “I like your mustache. It makes you look serious.” So there’s the lesson for the day, from a coffee house that prides itself on poetry slams and music jams. Life is as serious as you make it. Time to go enjoy a LOVELY DAY.
(Written in Monterey, California – 2019)