Kardamon Café- Take 2 - 8/10 Cups
The funky Kardamon
café was as empty as when I first entered it a little less than a week ago.
Just the way I had hoped to find it. I return for the ambiance and the coffee.
The ambiance being small, hidden and quiet… quiet apart from the music in the
background, varying from the funk that almost boogied me out of my seat, to pop
that almost forced me to substitute it with earphone and my own music but the
music is inconsequential to my enjoyment in this concealed café. The only other
patron here at the moment, apart from that handsome devil I saw in the mirror,
was an older gentleman. He sported the relic Polish mustache that is slowly
fading out of style with today's whippersnapper youth.
He sat and enjoyed his
fresh mug of Polish beer, reading the newspaper, quiet as a mouse. That is
until another older man enters. To my knowledge, neither man has met each other
people, my knowledge being somewhat limited obviously to the potential history
that could be behind these two men. Yet, not sitting next to each other, lead
me to this assumption. Yet they shook hands and carried a short conversation
about what time there was a match-Football presumably (soccer for you North
Americans). The second man was clean shaven by the way…. Traitor to the Polish
mustache traditions that I've come to love but been unable to take up myself
unfortunately.
The coffee
Continuing onto
the coffee. Cappuccino to be more precise. I know I stated in my last post, that
this was to be the search for the Holy Espresso (I guess I will keep that quest
title), but during my pursuit, I shall taste the various other delicacies that
are common in cafes, assuming I decide to return to them more than once. Back
to this cappuccino, it was topped with a foamy heart, which was just adorable.
It may be a common practice for some people and places, but this was honestly
my first cappuccino heart. This was one of the better cappuccinos that I have
had. It carried the bitter coffee taste well, and was not watered down by
excessive milk but I have to admit that the foam heart did raise my spirits
after a rather melancholy day. If you don’t know what melancholy means, a
picture will be posted near the bottom to show the true meaning.
I must mention
that I am visiting at a later time than I have before, the sun has already set
and it is a weekend, that being said. People are slowly trickling into the
café. (I am writing this in real time, not that that makes a difference to
you). These people coming in however seem to all have some previous meeting
with each other. Each greeting each other with a handshake and a hearty hello
to the barista, most on first name basis, of course I am left out of this
little group, but I do believe I have stumbled upon a café used more by locals
that tourists, which I believe merits my enjoyment of it. Build it and they will come, some say (The Romans supposedly), but
I say, if they keep on coming, something has got to be decent in there. Now
with a population of four, the diplomatic consensus is to change the channel
from the bass and pumping music, to the sport channel. I am curious to see how
that plays out. Punny, I know…
The Match
AAAANNNNDDDDD
the game begins. Argentina versus Russia. More interesting, is my false
assumption in thinking it was football. The exact opposite actually. Handball.
One of Poland's three favorite sports, Football, Volleyball and Handball. Presumably
in that order of favoritism as well. The game begins, how most begin, with the
national anthems. Russia's strong bassy anthem almost moves me to join the red
army, whilst Argentina prefers a more leisurely melody that could have been
composed by any classical artist of old, finally coming to a crescendo that
sends the crowds cheering. As the players set themselves up, the watchers in
this café, grab new drinks, beer, coffee and tea and I can only help but
wonder, who they are rooting for. Do these men feel strongly towards Mother
Russia, do they carry positive sentiments to the nation that ruled over them
for almost half a century. Or do they despise it like much of Europe these
days. I am probably reading too much into just three men watching a handball
match. Why not just enjoy any excuse to watch your favorite sport being played
out between two random nations. But perhaps my hypothesizes will be validated
in the course of the game.
The verdict is
Argentina, as the men curse why they have yet to score against Russia early on.
And like in every stereotypical story, the two men drinking beer and watching
sports, have to turn their conversation to world politics. One argues why there
is a town in South Africa called Cape City, whilst the other tries to correct
him with Cape Town. To my surprise though, the conversation turns not to
Russia, but instead to Arabia, as this handball competition is being hosted in
one of the Arabian countries. The men bicker about civilization, religion and
why money is not being shared from Arabia with the rest of the world. That is
about as much as I am willing to listen in on that conversation though.
Jackie Saxon, behind the pages.
I
came here to try and write more chapters for my second novel, -title still
being decided- but instead I find I am writing more to you, you being the
internet and those who surf its waves. I suppose I can do some self-promoting
now though. My second novel will follow Jackie Saxon, a woman who woke up
screaming from a five year coma. Nobody is there for her and she remembers
nothing (yes, I am going with the amnesia story). The novel will thus follow
her as she escapes a past that is trying to kill her, only to run headlong into
it. I first started writing this when I was in the city of Bansko, in Bulgaria.
I had yet to complete Leaders of Hope, but I had the idea that would start and
flourish into Jackie Saxon and her adventure. I got the idea from my experience
similar to what the woman in the introduction of the story felt, before the
accident of course. You can check out the introduction to the novel here - http://www.oscarkrol.com/p/a-discontinuous-world-teaser.html
I
will admit though, that I find the idea of amnesia fun to play with. That
sounds a tad bit sadistic, but it's true. Imagine being born into the world,
middle aged, and being almost as dumb and lost as the day you were born. You
need to learn how to survive in a world where people have already had decades
of practice and guidance. It's like walking into a million dollar business meeting
totally drunk only to remember you are a plumber, not an insurance salesman.
That or starting World of Warcraft for the first time and roaming blindly into
a level 80 area - as a priest no less. (Only some of you will get that
reference, and I accept that).
I don't find the fun in writing about a baby and
his experiences in a new world, and some could say that writing with a
character suffering from amnesia is cheating and lacks a enough backstory and
allows you to create the character as you like without care or cause for their
reactions and thoughts. That may be true, but that is also what is fun. You get
to practice, laugh and cry with certain experiences that would seem so simple
and mundane to somebody who has lived a full life. But to then approach life,
with a childlike ignorance and have to deal with the repercussions of that
ignorance. All that and the mystery. Few things are as mysterious as not
knowing or understanding the full backstory to a person and event. I like that
mystery, and whilst amnesia is convenient compared to a complex plot of a
villain, it also lends itself another aspect that I want to experiment with in
this book.
That
being the torment and psychological despair that goes with amnesia. Action and
adventure is one thing. It is one thing to overcome a physical barrier, train
hard enough and you can punch down trees (metaphorically) but mental blockades
present different challenges that are sometimes not as easy as just training
one's body (easy in the sense that it is a repetitive action, not that it is
easy to bench-press 200 pounds.) In addition to that, the idea of discovery has
always fascinated me, which is why I am also working on and planning on a
fantasy based series based around the feelings of discovery and exploration.
But self-discovery and exploration is an interesting area to write about. I
don't mean like those religious/motivation/self-help books but to truly
understand and discover yourself as a person when you have no notion of who you
are beforehand. It is all these feelings that I hope to fully explore and share
that exploration with readers in my second novel.
…. and Argentina
won by the way
.
The Dark underbelly of Kardamon
Curious wandering
lead me to the stairs in the back, slowly stepping down into the depths of
earth, I find a secluded little alcove, fitted with leather couches and a
quieter atmosphere than the upper floor that accommodated bolstering sports
fans and I immediately retreated down to the comfy sofa's when the Poland vs
Denmark handball game was turned on, it instantly attracted a larger crowd of
men and women or various ages. Down here there are also a few slot machines for
the common gambler. This place would be a great little hide away for any couple
who just want some quiet time or even a place to cuddle away from the eyes of
public, especially after a romantic walk through the nearby Oliwa park, which I
covered in the previous post.
That brings an end
to this review. Kardamon remains a café I will return to for a nice quiet hide
away, just not during Polish sporting seasons.
PS: Feeling
melancholy? "A gloomy state of mind, especially with habitual or
prolonged; depression."
Not anymore
It gets me every
time.
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