So I’ve found my morning coffee shop. It’s the one right there by the theater. Café Teatro. It is two minutes from school and I like that it’s sort of working class and out of the way. There are some older men who play cards in the back room. I can see them when I order my coffee and croissant. They have a direct view to the front door. The same barista is there every morning and I think she must internally shake her head at me every morning. I can’t get my coffee order right.
Every day I ask for a different coffee – by accident. I’m trying to get a café latte with two shots of espresso in it. The first day I ended up with one shot. The second day I ended up with twice the milk. Yesterday I ended up with no milk, but two shots of espresso. Good grief. Yesterday I finally remembered not to take my money out and try to pay when I order.
On a deeper level, Suzanne and I were out walking one night and went to the playground to look at graffiti. We passed the youth center where a number of young men were laughing and talking and keeping to themselves. They came outside to sit and we had to pass them on our way out. My American gut kicked into “stranger danger” mode – so automatic. So sad. They didn’t pay any attention to us as we walked by and out of the park. I feel safe here, but my American radar about strangers apparently is apparently lagging behind.
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