Cafe trial and error

Lately, I have been making a point to mix up my routine. I have been taking the bus more, I have been exploring new coffee shops, I have been seeing more theatre and opera and whatever else I can. Usually, I am a person of habit — the constancy of routine makes me less anxious and the past year was so unpredictable I moored myself to routine as a way of staying sane. I got used to the same coffee, the same chair, and the same barista not making eye contact with me. Lately, though, I walk in my body and I feel safe. I trust my feet to guide me the way I’m supposed to go. I trust that new places will bring new interesting experiences.

Sometimes I go to a new coffee shop and the coffee is terrible — I have a particular one in mind. The latte was bitter and I think they gave me oat milk instead of regular, which to me is a cardinal sin. I know they are better for the environment or something, but alternative milk just doesn’t sit right with me. They taste too watery and not thick enough. Anyways. My routine has become a fun adventure. I’ve found so many new places, and each one creates a new need. One of my new cafes is tucked into Chiltern Street and has a whole basement for studying. The basement is sans windows, which for me is perfect since seeing the sun go down instantly makes me tired and not want to continue working. It is also open until 7 pm, which is great since I’ve found most cafes close around 4 pm here. Needless to say, my American standards of convenience culture are quaking.

I’ve found the past few weeks of exploration fun and surprising, and they make me feel like I’m forging more of a real connection with the city. I’m not just going to one spot, I’m exploring what it has to offer, and what isn’t promoting itself to tourists.