Wednesdays I teach a couple of one-on-ones at a school in Katowice, ESCS. The first one is very early, 0730. Despite the fact that my student, Kasia, is always late (the office manager and I are thinking of starting a pool for each day and settling up at the end of my contract in June), I cannot be late. One of those things, either genetic or so deeply ingrained from birth it might as well be. So instead of taking the bus that, if it was on time, would get me there exactly at 0730, I take an earlier one, that lets me off in Katowice 45 minutes early. This is fine with me really, it's just enough time for coffee and a pastry and a chance to prepare my lessons, review materials and so on.
I wish I could say that I spend this time in a charming Old World cafe, perhaps run by a cheerful, matronly woman who fusses over her weekly American customer. The coffee would be hot and strong, the pastries fresh and home-baked, the regulars (consisting of older men in sharp, wool caps) would gather by the woodstove in the corner, arguing casually about politics or the disrespectfulness of the younger generation. The cafe would be solid stone walls and exposed timbers, dark with age and memories, but cozy and well-kept. I'd have a table by the window where I could watch the city awake, ordinary folks hurrying to offices, shops stretching their awnings into the street, their keepers setting out displays of fruit and vegetables . . . everything that Americans come to Europe for, the romance and pace of an older, more mature culture, whose history lies like snow all around.
Oh, I wish I could say that.
However, all the good cafes (none quite like my description, but very nice and comfortable) are either not open at 0645 or too far away for me to walk to and be back in time. So, I spend my Wednesday mornings in Delikatesy Skarbek, an upscale specialty-foods store on the market square, determinedly and anonymously modern, complete with shiny-tiled floors, too-bright lighting, mirrored walls and strategically placed shelving. My table is in a back corner, one of three tucked away as an afterthought next to the bakery counter, which is staffed by generally surly young women. Though the coffee is good and my ciastko polfrancuskie z jablkiem is probably baked on site, the diffidence with which it is served and the general ambience steal some of the flavor. The shop is in the point of a triangle-shaped building, and windowed heavily all around; however, my table is at the base of the triangle, and the shelves block all views. But it's reasonably quiet, the price is right (about 6pln for coffee and two pastries-apple turnovers-which is less than $2), and I even got a smile from the girl behind the counter today. Ok, it was very brief and might possibly have been a grimace of some sort, but you take what you can get.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
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