아침엔 서향, 오후엔 동향 카페를 찾아가세요.

여러분 안녕하세요? 환영합니다.

원래 이 블로그를 "카페 생활"에 대한 내 생각을 적으려고 만든 공간입니다. 영어로 쓰인 과거의 글을 보시면 아시겠지만...

저는 UC버클리 대학원생으로 논문을 쓰고 있는 중이거든요. 집, 도서관, 연구실 같은 곳에서 써도 되지만 글쎄...자극이 없다고 해야되나요 (연구실)? 지루하다고 그럴까요 (도서관)? 침대, 소파, TV같은 유혹이 너무 많다고나 할까요 (집)? 그래서 그런지 몇년 전부터 캠퍼스 근처에 있는 카페를 *일하러* 다니기 시작했어요.

아시죠? 밀라노, 스트라다, 얄리스, 버클리 에스프렛소... 수없이 카페가 많습니다. 저는 다는 모르지만 그런 데서 많은 시간을 보내면서 얻은 지식과 생각들이 많아요. 그리고 지금, 논문을 쓰고 있어야 할 때지만 조금 미루는 사이사이에 적어보려고 합니다.

그리고 여러분! 저는 한국어를 배우는 미국인인데 틀린 말이라든지 더 적절한 표현이 있으면 도와주세요! 코멘트를 남겨주시면 참 좋겠어요.

그럼 출발해볼까요? 오늘 생각난 것은 맨 위에 쓰인 겁니다: 아침에는 서향, 오후에는 동향 카페를 찾아가는 게 좋다는 것. 내가 좋아하는 카페인 Fertile Grounds (Shattuck Ave와 Delaware 사거리) 에 왔는데 아침 햇살이 너무 뜨거워서 한시간만 있다가 나가버렸으니까, 무거운 컴과 책 들고 말이에요...

사진은 내가 다음으로 간 카페, 1 block정도 떠러진 데 있는 Berkeley Espresso에서 주문한 카푸치노입니다. 재미있게 생겼죠? 

176 second warm-up

what are all these people doing here? it's the first night of spring break. was just sitting outside and that felt better, actually. was worried it'd be too cool but no. come inside and it feels a little like a jungle. sarah is intent. the guy next to me drums his fingers on the table and then starts writing again, mechanical pencil, textbook open in front of his notebook, so old-school. twirls his pencil around in his finger, looks up, has earphones in. classical music continues. what composer is this? don't recognize the composer. the group of three women sitting across at the table talking like flowing water in a bubbling brook. aren't they they ones i saw a few days ago? music takes a faster turn, other people talking over by the counter. the man behind it, thin moustache, smooth face, nice disposition, always a friendly greeting for me...about time you learned his name, ain't it, dave? how many times have you seen him? meanwhile guy at other table on the other side of the door closes his computer, half says to person next to him (without looking, mind you), i'm gonna go make a phone call. two people leave right after him, and then another 20 seconds later, and both times the guy with the open books next to me looks up and briefly pauses writing as if to think. scratches his head, rolls it around a little, keeps writing. things are flowing. the brook keeps bubbling. music keeps rolling. guy on phone keeps talking. sarah is still intent. and my hands are now warm enough to go back to what i sat down here to do...thanks for following along.

open door politics

If you’ve sat right next to the door at Berkeley Espresso at night, this image might evoke some strong memories. Or, rather, that image juxtaposed with the image below it. Juxtaposed with the one below that. And the one below that. And below that. And that. And, you get the picture, right?

I didn’t remember how much of a mini-drama there is unfolding around this door at the corner of Hearst and Shattuck Avenues until I sat there last night next to a woman who was obviously suffering from the cold. Bent over shivering every time the door opened and stayed open. And that was quite often.

You see, every time the door opens, it gets stuck. There’s a little metal door stopper at the bottom that does what it should when it should, and then does what it should when it shouldn’t. Maybe it’s greased too well, or just needs to be replaced. But anyway, as soon as the door opens, that thing is on its way down, dragging along the ground as the door’s being pushed open, and then digging into the concrete outside when it’s released.

A couple walks in, and she shivers again. Obviously indignant at this, another guy gets up from his chair several tables over, and, shaking his head slightly, steps outside, kicks the door stopper up, and pulls the door shut. Exaggerated movements, as if the couple that now stands staring at the menu on the wall has the slightest clue about what’s going on.

Now, normally this sticking thing’s not a problem for me. Actually I kind of like it. If you’ve had a coffee at Berkeley Espresso at night, when the breath and body heat of 25 computer users and emanations from 3 or 4 tall leafy mini-trees create steam that fogs the cafe’s long wall of windows, you know: it can feel like a sauna in here. That’s probably why the two guys over there were looking at each other, laughing slightly, slightly annoyed at the guy who went and closed the door. This must be an ongoing thing.

Yeah, I guess that’s the camp I’m in too. That little door stopper is a lifesaver sometimes. The ‘inner reaches’ of the cafe can be especially oppressive, where you have to squeeze your way into a seat and have even more trouble extricating yourself from the tangle of wires, chairs and glares of the oft-times library-ish crowd, breathing, exhaling, emanating, steaming…

So here we are in the corner seat by the door, where there’s just enough cool air coming in from the outside to balance the waves of heat and humidity inside (ever experienced BEING advection fog before? It’s quite stimulating actually…).

Yup, you got it, the door’s open again. Another couple has just left, talking with each other excitedly—must be the first time in hours by the looks of it, after they packed up their laptops and books from another evening studying. Meanwhile, as the cool air sweeps back in, those of us remaining look up, glance around at each other, and then fix our gazes on that little door stopper, wondering who’s going to make the next move.