A short visit to Paris made me write a list of things to see and do – the usual suspects that lead me to those in-between-experiences, which actually make a memorable trip. And for the very first time I made a list of coffee places I wanted to check out. I just have had enough of “let’s have a cup of coffee at this lovely place” experiments, which usually ended with my big disappointment over a hot mess of a wannabe cappuccino. I’d say the older I am, the less forgiving I am, when it comes to my cup of coffee.
There are probably not many things in my life that I can backtrack all the way to childhood, but somehow, even to my own surprise, coffee is one of them. Since I can remember, a small exaggeration, I loved the smell of grounded coffee. Nevertheless my first coffee tasting – when I was a curious teenager learning about the ways of adults and my mum poured me a cup of home made coffee with some sugar and milk – didn’t deliver. It was only in my student years that I gave, actually I had to give, coffee a second chance.
I still remember the breath-taking beauty of Milos Island, Greece, and how my boyfriend and I had the greatest time cruising around it on a rented scooter. On this particular hot summer day we wanted to check out a cave that was marked on a small map of the island, which we got from a tourist office. We searched the marked area and couldn’t find any signs, anything that would point us towards the cave entrance. Not giving up easily, we were happy to come across an older man, a local, who was puzzled by the cave mark as we were. After we reached an agreement – since we didn’t speak the common language, we resorted to our pantomime skills – that no cave was to be found in these parts of the island, he gestured to follow him. We weren’t far from the coast and together we walked to this fascinating little bay, its coast dotted with blue, double-wing-wooden-doors, designed to protect boat storages that were carved into soft bedrock surrounding the bay. Those were the only “caves” our new-found-guide knew about. As if the bay was not already a great discovery in itself, he then opened a door to his hide, inviting us inside for a cup of coffee – so very nice of him and way out of my comfort zone. Not only I didn’t have language skills to politely decline his invitation, I also felt it would be totally wrong to do so. For sure, it was just coffee, but I was worried sick that when I tasted it, combined with my next to zero acting skills, I wouldn’t be able to conceal my dislike – therefore unintentionally hurt the host. My mind ran frantic circles – now I’m smiling about it, but back then it was a real struggle – until coffee was poured into small, espresso size, cups. I envisioned I’d only need to take a few sips to finish it off. As coffee was cooling down I got myself ready for the first sip. And? And it was absolutely fine. The biggest smile of relief you can imagine crossed my face. So right away, in total disbelief, I took another sip, followed by one more and sadly – I was truly disappointed – the coffee was gone. I’ve just started to get a taste of it. Although it still took me many years to start drinking coffee on a daily basis, it was there and then the old fisherman taught me, how a small act of making and drinking coffee together, no words necessary, brings people together.
Back to Paris. Even though a cold, drizzling, winter’s day in Paris might not be exactly what I bargained for, it also didn’t prevent me to enjoy exploring the city. And so much had to be absorbed that only in the early afternoon I realised I need my daily cup of coffee. A quick look at my coffee list revealed, a pure coincidence or something else, Télescope Café (pictured above) was to be found less than ten minutes away. And I shall only write, hopefully, I will be going back for more.
