No one here…
When I arrived at the cafe near my home, the parking lot was empty. The cafe started taking orders at eight, and I was ten minutes early.
I walked inside, and the staff greeted me. Light, upbeat music was playing, and the air felt fresh.
On my way to the elevator, I could see the staff baking bread in the kitchen.
I went up to the third floor and sat in my usual seat by the window.
I took a few pictures of the sky, then looked down at the field outside. The vegetables planted not long ago looked fresh and green.
Oh, they’ve grown a lot. It was only two or three weeks ago that I watched the old man planting those seedlings.
One of the things I enjoy about this window seat is occasionally seeing him working alone in the field.
Two minutes before eight, I got up and took the elevator back down. By the time I reached the first floor, the ordering kiosk had just opened.
I used a free drink coupon I had received the day before to order a hot Americano.
Number one.
I smiled.
I used to be number one at the cafe by the Han River in Seoul, too.
I picked up my Americano and took the elevator back to the third floor. On the way up, I thought about the cafe by the Han River that I used to visit every morning five years ago.
A Small Cafe by the Han River
It was a small cafe on the way from our apartment to the river. Red awnings and wooden tables lined the sidewalk, reminding me of a small cafe in Paris. Inside, there were only a few tables.
I loved sitting outside in the fresh morning air, listening to music and drinking a hot Americano. Even on rainy days, I enjoyed sitting there with a book. Sometimes I got my coffee to go and walked slowly along the river.
The cafe opened at seven, and I went there almost every morning. Going there after I woke up was simply how I started my day. Sometimes I arrived before it opened and waited outside.
The older man who ran the cafe by himself would sometimes tell me to take a walk by the river while the espresso machine warmed up.
It was a three-group La Marzocco.
He took great care of that Italian machine. I liked it too—the big, classic machine with its loud hiss of steam.
Later, we got to chatting, and I learned that he was from a town near my husband’s hometown. He was a friend of a painter my husband knew well.
My husband liked the coffee too. We sometimes went there together for decaf Americanos on weekend afternoons.
For two years, I went to that cafe almost every morning and was often the first customer of the day. My family even joked that maybe I liked the owner, since I went there so faithfully.
A Little Cafe at Home
Then we moved to an officetel in another part of Seoul, and my mornings naturally changed.
I bought a single-group manual espresso machine. It was an Italian CIME machine at a reasonable price, and with a manual grinder beside it, I made a little cafe in our living room.
Turning on the espresso machine became the first thing I did in the morning.
Once a week, I went to coffee classes. I blended my own beans, ground them at home, pulled espresso shots with the machine, and made hot Americanos.
My coffee tastes the best.
My own blend, with Ethiopian beans, had a pleasant brightness.
I loved the rich smell of coffee spreading through the house in the morning.
The milk used in cafes didn’t suit me very well, so I also liked making cafe lattes at home with milk I preferred. I enjoyed learning how to steam milk and make latte art, then practicing at home.
My daughter picked it up quickly too. She would grind the beans, pull an espresso shot, and start her morning with an iced Americano.
When we left the Seoul officetel and moved to our current apartment in Daegu, I worried that the espresso machine might get damaged in the moving truck. So I put it in my car and brought it down myself.
In our new home, I still started my mornings by turning on the machine.
I would drink two cups on an empty stomach and still think I was fasting, simply because I hadn’t eaten anything until lunch. Sometimes I kept drinking Americanos in the afternoon or evening whenever I wanted one, using decaf beans. Even in the quiet early hours of the morning, I would turn on the machine to make coffee.
I loved being able to make the Americano I wanted as soon as I woke up, without waiting for a cafe to open.
Am I drinking too much caffeine?
Little by little, coffee began to feel a bit heavy.
The teas I used to enjoy—pu-erh, black tea, green tea, peppermint—sat untouched.
Seven months after moving into this apartment, I sold the espresso machine.
I kept my favorite milk pitcher and sold everything else with the machine.
There had been a time when I loved coffee so much that I even thought about opening a cafe.
“Running a cafe probably wouldn’t suit you if you like going out and moving around. The hardest part is having to stay there and wait for customers.”
The woman who taught me latte art once told me that. She roasted her own beans, ran a cafe, and had even won a latte art competition.
What surprised me was how relieved I felt after selling the machine and all the equipment.
The house suddenly felt so quiet and comfortable.
Oh. The espresso machine was pretty loud.
The smell of coffee beans was pretty strong.
My son doesn’t drink coffee. I thought he would probably feel more comfortable at home without the machine.
Back at the Window
I have been sitting at this window for an hour and a half now, slowly writing this.
Summer is over, and the air conditioner is off. I can feel the warm sunlight coming through the window.
Soft music is playing, and the sound of my fingers tapping on the laptop has its own rhythm.
This cafe hasn’t even been here for a year.
“Oh, there’s a big new cafe.”
My daughter and I happened to notice it while driving by one day, so we came in just to have a look.
The coffee was good enough for me, and although I didn’t care much for the first or second floor, I liked the window seats on the third floor. Especially during the first hour or two after opening, it was nice to sit quietly and write with soft music playing.
The words seemed to come on their own.
“I go to the cafe to write, not just for coffee. Starting my morning that way makes the whole day feel good.”
I once said that to my daughter.
There was a time when I loved coffee itself so much. But after letting go of the espresso machine, I think I became freer about what I drink.
In the morning, I might sit here and write with a hot Americano. When my husband and I go to the par-three course, I sometimes take a tumbler of decaf iced Americano with me. When I’m cooking at home or making bread dough, I gently steep some green tea leaves.
Two evenings ago, I finally opened a jar of peppermint tea that had been sitting on the shelf for a while.
I put a small amount of the leaves into a teapot, poured in hot water, and sat down at my desk.
I poured some into a small cup and sipped it slowly as I worked. I found it easy to concentrate.
Oh, peppermint smells so good.
I wanted a little more, so I poured some more water into the kettle and turned it on.
