The View from the Counter

When Torrefazione Italia closed in 2005 and I broke down crying at the end of my last shift, a coworker did her best to comfort me. "There'll be other cafes," she said. That seemed unlikely at the time, but, within months, I was frequenting Costello's Travel Caffe for an afternoon of coffee and reading, and Mio Gelato replaced my job. It wasn't the same, of course, but did I really want it to be? I loved them both, for the coffee they served and for the coffee I made, for the people I served and the customers I met.

Since then, there have been several other cafes. I remember certain cafes I have visited on trips - Kopplin's Coffee in Minneapolis, the local Insomnia Coffee chain in Dublin, the Black Medicine Coffee Co. in Edinburgh, the multiple Autogrills on the roads in Italy where Dad and I stopped for a quick shot of espresso - and each time I go back to Portland there are new places to try at my parents recommendation, and the old places to go back to (especially Northwest Coffee House for a delicious mocha and Extracto for a bowl latte and the best chocolate shortbread cookies).

But it's not just the coffee I love. It's the atmosphere.

Cafes are the most inspiring places, ever, anywhere. All I need is enough change for a cuppa, several sheets of paper, a pen with a full ink cartridge, and I'm set for hours.

The effect is even better when I'm working.

This past week, I've done some last-minute filling-in at a local cafe, one of my favorites. In the lulls between customers, I grab a scrap of paper and jot thoughts and ideas down. I sketch out characters and build up plot triangles. Clever bits of dialogue, either from a real-life customer or from some wonderful part of my mind, pop out and clamor to be recorded.

Last summer, I was working on a novel in my free time. The thing that kept me writing, all summer long, was my job. As my hands cupped a steel pitcher and I waited for the milk to hit the right temperature, the ideas hit me. I scrawled on napkins and scribbled on receipts. After work and on my days off, these scraps were grouped together and became a fictional Portland coffeehouse with character, bustle, and, of course, coffee.

The view from behind the counter is the best narrative viewpoint.