This blog is intended to be a series of random anecdotes, videos, and other media about my daily life as a curious foreigner in in foreign countries. From my misadventures, endearing cultural experiences, friendships, and strange encounters, to the coffee shops and language pitfalls, I promise to share it all!
Friday, February 11, 2011
A Kafkaesque Experience
What is a Kafkaesque experience exactly? I’ve read The Metamorphosis, and to me I got the impression that one goes through a process of feeling less and less significant and relevant as time passes. Then you finally you get squished and no one cares. That’s life. Luckily, this wasn't what happened to me when I went to Café Kafka by the University library last week.
This is what my Kafkaesque experience was like. To start, unlike visits to Starbucks and other mega-coffee houses, I was treated like an anonymous customer, which was a pleasant change. There was no chirpy Starbucks banter greeting me as I approached the cash register, no ultra-clean Coffee-Heaven Uniformity, and no there were no prices on the cakes in the display case. I went inside, as one of the handful of available mellow employees while calmly, almost surreptitiously took my order, and invited me park myself in a comfortable seat where I would be served a welcoming cup of coffee by another amicable, yet reserved resident coffee maker. I got nothing spectacular, just a simple coffee. Or a cup of Kafka with a small flask of warm milk. For a coffee house these days simplicity was a pleasant surprise.
What’s interesting though is the atmosphere. A wall of books (which are for sale by the kilo,) a random wall of antlers, furry bar-stool seats near the window, a disorganized colorful chalkboard menu, a pile of board games, cartoon posters, and black and white tile floors, which in sum gave me the feeling that I was back in Berkeley in the mid 90’s before average Americans got the infections coffee bar buzz and before everything got all corporate.
It was almost like everything had been recycled. Café Kafka is a testament to all those places that don’t exist anymore in America, and will slowly be erased by the mega-coffee franchises globalizing their way to a neighborhood near you. If you want a quiet place for a chat, bury yourself in your book or lab-top or want an escape from the typical coffee scene in Warsaw, then metamorphisize yourself and opt for something simpler.
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1 comment:
In that case you should visit Antykwariat Cafe, of course if it still exists. I haven't been there for a long time.
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