Chapter 29: Coffee Culture

 ‘Coffee Culture’ is an elegant yet a ‘not so famous’ coffee shop which lies in the eastern corner of Scarborough, a suburban town of Toronto. It has a warm fireplace corner, it is spacious with large French windows unlike other indie coffee shops in town, it has many old Victorian gas lamps, mild soothing jazz music oozing across the hall and a flawless Asian waitress with a constant and beautiful smile. These are some of the reasons for which I visit the place almost every day at late evenings when the sky gives out some of its last pink shades. Rain or shine! Nothing would stop my visit. But for some weird reasons, I’ve never seen the place closed for any holidays. It stayed open until midnight for New Year, Christmas and even for Thanksgiving, while most shops in the town were closed. I’ve seen the place in all four seasons.  I’ve been there on a cold snowy winter night, a hottest summer afternoon, a misty spring morning and also on a breezy fall evening. It never changed; even the smile on the waitress' face stayed the same. Thelonious Monk, Charles Mingus and Art Blakey restlessly played their jazz instruments every day. I kept seeing the same faces again and again. An old fighting Polish couple, a sad loner with a four day beard and a rugged suit, a gang of young Italian men, playing board game, two college girls who don’t know the purpose of the word ‘like’. But I never got bored. In fact the place grew on me.

I’ll sit by the window corner and browse the internet or read a good book or just create some pencil sketches. Occasionally the waitress would look up and smile at me which usually would cheer me up, to say the least, even if I’m in an extremely lousy mood. For the past six months, I’m planning to ask her name and then to ask her out. I can’t seem to find the right reason, but whenever I try, I usually end up in asking for a double-double brewed coffee which I absolutely hate, by the way. It’s one of their worst! I understand why I’m so scared to ask her out, that’s because I’ve never asked a girl out. But why am I asking for a double-double every time? Why not, a mocha or an iced coffee? I could ask her out whenever I see her outside the shop, whenever she is not working. That would be great! But the problem is that I’ve never seen the girl anywhere outside the shop.
If you ever lived in Scarborough, you’d know that it’s impossible to not see a person anywhere outside. We have a town center court which is a huge mall for the town. It also has a theater, a school, a college and an Old Catholic church. If you live in Scarborough for just six months, you would have seen every single face in this town including the faces of our town’s official serial killer and the proud raccoon rapist!
But I swear, I've never seen the girl anywhere outside the shop. I often imagine that she is some kind of an artificial intelligent robot, who is programmed just to smile. Late at night, when everyone leaves, the bald owner of the coffee shop deactivates and carries her to the dark basement. My theory just doesn't fit. But I’d like to give it some ‘benefit of the doubt’.

-Someday, Late at night-

It was way past midnight. The shop usually closes exactly at midnight. But exception occurs, just for me, when she’s working late. When she’s sweeping the floor, clearing the tables or wiping the glass doors and when she’s finally done with everything she’d give me a complete ‘smile of the day’ with a pleading request in her eyes for me to leave. I’d do my best in smiling back, not as pretty as hers and I’d leave. That day was one of those exceptional days, just me and her! I was sitting at one of the corners reading a book called ‘Galileo and the Roman inquisition’. I've already made up my mind! Today, I decided, I’m going to talk to her, at least to make sure that she’s not a robot. I was waiting for her request to leave. Moments later, the jazz music was turned off and I could sense that she’s approaching me. I didn't look up as if I’m so into the book, honestly I didn't understand a single word!
“Ahem” she cleared her throat.
I looked up! “Oh, is it time already, I didn't know, sorry”
She graciously smiled. That was a ‘that’s okay, now get out’ smile!
I closed the book, zipped my bag and prepared to leave. “Nice night today, huh?”
She nodded and smiled.
“Huh, what’s the time now?” I tried harder.
She pointed at a big old European wooden clock, above the fireplace.
“Sorry, probably I shouldn't ask you this, but can you talk?” that was my last arrow.
“Yeah, of course, I can” that was not the best voice I've ever heard, but it was good enough!
I was so glad, that I finally heard her voice. No one would understand how happy I was. That cleared everything. She’s not a robot who is programmed just to smile. Bald owner doesn't deactivate and carry her to the basement every day. Like me, she is a human, just a human.
“Don’t mistake me, I've been coming to this place for over a year, but I've never heard your voice.”
She smiled again!
“It’s already half past midnight! I should be going, so…”
When I sensed that she’s politely kicking me out, I was walking outside. I didn't ask her name. But I talked to her. That was a giant leap. ‘Anyway’, I thought, ‘I’m going to be coming here every day, I’ll ask her tomorrow!’
But for the next few days, I tried my best! I couldn't even ask for my usual coffee. The place was crowded; she was busy the whole time, making coffee, smoothies, sandwiches and plain cream cheese bagels. She was always making something and the owner served everyone. He gave my coffee in a paper cup. I missed her! She knows that I prefer the white plaster mug. She never serves in a paper cup. She knows me. I even compromised my ‘window-corner’ seat, just to have a glimpse of her. For the next few days, I sat in one of the small brown rusty wooden chairs that were lined, in front of the toaster, where she usually prepares bagels. I never had a chance to talk to her after that night. She was leaving the shop, early. She never worked late after that night. No exceptional nights. I didn't know why. I even thought that it was because of me. I made her talk. The shop’s owner stayed late every day and would just shout “Time to leave, 12am”
I hated him because he was not her. He never smiles, even if he does, it turns out to be a sarcastic smile criticizing my daily visit. Slowly, I started to like her, more than the shop. I stopped noticing all those strangers, and I stopped caring for the gas lamps and the jazz flute. I started going to the place, just to see her working and her occasional smile. I wanted to ask her the reason for which she stopped working late. I just wanted to ask ‘Is it me? If so, I’d never try to talk to you again, just work at late nights, so that it would be me and you again! I don’t like your owner’

Suddenly I started to feel so lonely. I never felt this way, before that night. Whenever I see a perfect couple, a passionate kiss, two holding hands, I couldn't stop but feel envious about it. I even replace the couples with me and her in my mind. I lived with her in my dreams. I go for long walks, holding her tender hands, in an endless road, I kissed her soft pale pink lips, passionately, whenever she smiled and she always smiled. I never asked her name even in my dreams.

One day, after a long time, I decided to stay at the shop, late at night. There was no crowd at the place. It was ‘Nuit-Blanche’ night in Toronto. Nuit-Blanche is a French all-night festival for celebrating contemporary arts and to welcome the fall. Each year, almost everyone in the city gathers at downtown and goes wicked. This year is no exception. But I stayed in Scarborough and the place stayed open. I expected her to leave early, but to my surprise, she stayed late while the owner started early to attend ‘Nuit Blanche’, to go wicked. Exactly at midnight, the remaining few left the place. I was sitting still, looking out of the window. The street was empty and the place was so quiet except for the clinging sound of the glasses which indicated that she was cleaning them. The dancing flames in the fireplace and the nineteenth century sax, made her look more beautiful. ‘Even I couldn't forgive me, if I didn't ask her name, everything is perfect now’ I thought!

I stood up, I made up my mind, I walked towards the desk. She was now cleaning the toaster. I was so confident. I've never felt that way, in my entire life. I didn't know what made me so optimistic. It must be the environment. It was perfect. It was just me and her, like the old days, with romantic sax music in the background.

“Hi, how are you doing?” I asked her in a cheerful tone.
“Good! How about you?” she replied with one of her special smiles.
“Yeah, same here … listen…” something interrupted me!
It was a bright yellow pair of headlights shining out of the window.
“He’s here!” she joyously shouted.
“Who?”
“My boyfriend, he is picking me up today, we are going for a candle light, isn’t he amazing?”
“...Yeah, he is!” I stammered while he barged in. He was in his early thirties. He was bald. He was wearing a pure white suit and a pair of expensive black framed glasses. He must be a businessman of some sort.

She was so excited, that she ran past me and hugged him. She gave him all kinds of her smiles. It took me one whole year to collect all of her smiles, but he's getting them in an instant. She kissed him with passion. He didn't seem to be excited. But he kissed in her lips, while she smiled. It happened for about five minutes.
“Ahem…” I cleared my throat. “Sorry, to interrupt you guys, I must be going, so...”
“Oh! So sorry!” she said, as if she just noticed! I paid for my double-double brewed coffee and I left the place. It was drizzling outside. The rain drenched road seemed to be endless. I couldn't spot anyone. Each and everyone in the town would be at the festival, dancing and screaming. Scarborough looked soulless that night. Slowly, came the fall winds from nowhere and announced an end to the summer. I noticed that the leaves were turning into a pale and a pleasant orange. The night was getting colder. I took my jacket out. The neon sign board which said ‘Coffee Culture’ was still glowing. I looked back at the place for one last time and started walking.

Chapter 25: Barren land and the Beautiful Chimney

The red coloured bus slowly came to a halt. We stepped down from the vehicle and looked around. It was a nice and quiet neighbourhood. It had a closed catholic high school, an Irish pub, a Sushi house, a massage parlour and a quiet little road in which the vehicle frequency was too low. The sun was giving out its final few rays of the day. Dominic accessed the GPS through his phone and found that we had to take that quiet little road to reach the place. The place we were looking for, is called Bluffers Park. It is one of our short exploring/photography trip.

By the end of my first month in Toronto, I understood my routine and every little thing came into picture. In the mean time, I also came to know what the term 'Home Sick' and 'Feeling Lonely' means. I'm thousands of kilometres, twenty hours and $750 away from my home, from my friends and from all the people who could understand me and my weird thoughts and mood. Sometimes the day would start with a blissful but ironically a melancholic dream. The dream of me lying in my good old soft bed, in my home back in my country. The dream would be so realistic that every time I would almost expect to wake up in my own room, filled with the pale yellow morning light. But disappointment would be waiting for me in disguise as my new white coloured Canadian room with broad glass windows allowing the pure white morning sun rays which in no way similar to the beautiful and unique pale yellow morning rays. This loneliness started to grow on me. That growth had an impact, an impact so strong, an impact which made me to forget my own character.

I'm a travel freak. Usually when I'm at a new place, I'd check out the neighbourhood, I'd look for some unique places like lakes or parks. I'd like to establish a comfort zone or rather a personal space of my own in that new place. But for the whole January, I never did any of that. I just went to the college, did my assignments, attended the tests, came back to the room, slept, woke up and for most of the time I regretted my decision of coming to Canada. I never read a book, I never watched a movie. I was forgetting myself in the large intersections, stops and signals of this magnificent city of Toronto. For most of the time, I was resenting the loneliness and having debates with my mind on the topic 'How lonely am I feeling?'

But everything ended one day. That was the day which helped me to figure out the beauty of my loneliness. That day started with the same home dream and regrets. Light showers of pure white and beautiful snowflakes showed up in that peaceful morning. I took a hot water shower and then decided to go to the bank nearby, to deposit some money. That was the first time, I decided to go out alone. I walked through the long and narrow corridors of my apartment and got into the elevator which was going down to the ground floor. When I got into the elevator, there was already a woman and her child. He was a small boy in his third or may be fourth year in this world. He was so charming and playful. I waved at him while his mother was constantly staring at the floor numbers inside the elevator. He was surprised at my friendly approach and waved back. I, then whispered back asking "What's your name?" He giggled and replied "My name is Charles!" and after a small thought he asked
"What's yours?"
"I'm Karthick, nice to meet you" by saying I offered my hand for a shake. He was so happy and excited. He extended his hand. It was a cute little shake. By the time the shake came to an end, the elevator hit the ground floor. I bid one final goodbye to him. He reciprocated the same wave with lots of excitement. I came out of the building and happily encountered the beautiful white snowflakes. It was so soft like cotton and had a pleasing charm. The weather was so pleasant that day. I finished my work at the bank and realized that I was hungry and my stomach was pleading for some input. I saw a small coffee shop opposite to the bank and decided to go there. The place was so small with ten tables and chairs. A middle aged Chinese woman was managing the place. She was unusually attractive. No one was there in that afternoon except me. She first offered me a pleasing smile and then offered a small cup of Irish coffee and a doughnut. When she asked me to select a soup, I asked for the tomato soup and then (my mistake) added "It's pure vegetarian right?"
Her smile turned into a sound laugh. "Tomato soup - pure vegetarian" she repeated this phrase in her own cute accent and laughed. After five minutes I was served with a bowl of tomato soup as promised in the picture. To say the least it was unexpectedly delicious. The hot coffee and sweet doughnut added the delight. I expressed my thanks to her for making the most delicious soup I ever had. She started calling me "Veggie boy" I bid a goodbye to her and I got "Goodbye dear" in reply. I came out of the shop to catch the bus back to my room. That day was so relaxing and charming and ended in a peaceful manner. Not much happened, but it taught me to notice the beauty lying unnoticed in some very tiny things. That evening, I took my camera out, after a very long time, and went out for a small shoot. I enjoyed being alone, being myself. That day helped me to find myself. After that experience, slowly I started my little explorations and photography trips.

Dominic with his Canon 550D

Sometimes I go out for short photography trips with Dominic, my friend and roommate. We have mutual interests in photography and film making. He has the very same Canon 550D, which I have. We explored some unique places, parks, hills and mainly the places around Lake Ontario. These trips are nothing less than spectacular. Now, this is the reason or a small flash back behind the first paragraph. Bluffers park was one of our scenic and breathtaking photography trips. I think I stopped the paragraph with us taking the quiet little road. Yes! We took the quiet little road and the road led us to a beautiful forest way. It was two kilometres and a half an hour walk through the woods. After few minutes we got completely cut off from the noise and hassles of the society. The place was so quiet and eerily beautiful.

Quiet little Bluffers road

We continued to walk and I was constantly watching the thick blue and pleasantly beautiful sky in a distance. We just heard that Bluffers is a nice forest area. We continued our stroll as the evening was proceeding to an end. The sun showered the place with its pale orange glitters and rays. It was a sweaty walk in the upside hill. We saw a middle aged man walking in a distance and decided to ask him about the whereabouts of the park. We approached him and asked
"Uhh, excuse me, Where's Bluffers Park?"
"Do you see the ocean back there?"
"Ocean! Where?"
"There..." In the direction, he pointed, there was the blue sky I was starring, giving away no sign that its actually an ocean, lying peacefully with little to no waves, making no noise, with its exquisite and admirable deep blue color. That scene, to say the least, took my breath away. The landscape setting was truly inspiring, the sky so bluish pink, clouds scattered around in a pattern, kissing the magnificent blue ocean.

Ocean in disguise ...

We clicked some pictures, while some people were spending their time feeding nuts to the crowded gang of singing birds. Some pictures later, I kept my camera aside and sat comfortably in one of the big rocks facing the ocean. Except the voice of the fresh breeze, and the mesmerizing sound of sea gulls there was no sound, nothing to be heard. I was sitting there, longing to posses the talent of a painter or a poet. It was one of those magical evenings of silence and wonder.

longing to be a poet ...

ocean and the sunset ...

Bluffers park - birds and people

This is one of my fascinating short trips, the beauty of which I could share only verbally or in writing with others. Often, I'll go out alone with only Mozart and my camera as my company. I'm spending hours in the library, hearing Mozart and recently I'm happy that I'm reading a lot. Lone trips are something special and close to my heart. Recently or yesterday, to be exact, I took a route bus, the route 102, I take this bus everyday to go to my college, but never travelled ahead of that stop.

But yesterday, I had an opportunity to sit on one of the most comfortable seat near the heater, and never got down. The bus passed through my college, passed through a small town, crossed a highway, all of the passengers got down in their respective stops but I never did. It was me and the driver. The bus was now travelling in a beautiful road, which passes through a barren farm land. The farm land had the courtesy to not interrupt the beautiful evening sun rays which entered through the glass window of the bus and hugged me. I finally decided to get down and did so in the midst of nowhere. The place was so alluring, as the land had an unknown working factory in a distance with its beautiful and fascinating chimney smoke, sun rays offered an additional beauty to that chimney smoke. With Mozart's divine solo violin flowing like an entrancing falls through my ears, the chimney smoke, barren farm lands, that walk was one of the special moments in my life. Now, I stopped complaining as I began to see and enjoy the true beauty of being alone.

Chapter 24: Toronto Tale

I saw a car parked in front of a big wide building, a pale white colored one with random marble patch, to be specific. It was an office building of some sort. I couldn't see any structure except that one. It was surrounded by green grass meadow. Partial surface of that building was exposed to the lazy rays of the early sun. There were two English gentlemen, both dressed in black long suits wearing a black hat, with a fine line of thread. They were discussing something in front of the parking lot, perhaps an argument, their conversation was not an audible one, as I was looking through the glass walls of Toronto Pearson International Airport.

Yeah! That was my first glimpse of this unbelievably magnificent country called 'Canada'.
I'm sure that it was a pretty normal glimpse, there was nothing to be wondered or nothing to be amazed at. It was just a regular morning in a country that was located in the far north end of this world. To say the least, I was so disappointed at that first sight. I had an entirely different picture in my mind about my first glimpse of the new land, at least to me. Road covered with pure white snow, little white snowflakes accompanying the wind or a place crowded with yellow taxis and foreign people. But no! It was just a clean empty road and a big wide building with two English men.

I was accompanied by two of my friends Dominic and Abhishek. Dominic was my colleague back when I worked as a profile writer, and it was our decision to come to Canada. I knew Abhishek, just before a month from my flight. Dominic was using the terminal's phone line and Abhishek suggested that we should go out of the airport and enquire about the taxi to an old guard standing in front of the terminal. We were not wearing our winter jackets and thermals. From inside the glass window the weather seemed to be fine, a normal sunny weather. So, I opened the doors of the terminal and stepped out into a new country. That was a BIG mistake, BIG!!! I should have worn my winter jacket. I still regret the moment. The moment, when I stepped out, literally, a chill ran down through my spine. That's when I realized that a regular winter day in Canada has a huge difference from that of a regular Indian winter day. I felt that as if my hand was starting to freeze. Dominic, from inside the glass wall, gestured a regular 'what happened' sign. I was shaking and I tried to say 'I need my jacket', instead of my voice, a large breath of snow puff came out of my mouth. That was totally weird and new to me.
After an hour or so, the red coloured taxi dropped us in front of a twenty storey apartment. The taxi driver was very pleasant towards us, he said that he is a Pakistani, working as a part time cab driver and studying Bio Medical at York University. He explained a lot about the Canadian Winter and also said that the word 'Sun' doesn't exactly mean 'Hot' here. We took the highway, so we didn't see much on our way to the apartment. So, as I said, the taxi dropped us in front of an apartment named '80 MORNELLE COURT'. The apartment was located in the small town of Scarborough. I'll explain about the town later in the next paragraph.

View from our Balcony ...

We took the elevator with all our packed luggage and finally reached room number 1204 in the 12th floor. As I had already arranged the accommodation, Sudharshan, our new roommate was waiting for us. He was also fairly new to Canada, just five days new. It was a comfortable two bedroom apartment, with a tidy balcony and a beautiful view. After checking out all the rooms, I was standing out in the balcony, starring down at the park swing near my apartment. Dominic came out with a coffee mug in his hand. It was a silent afternoon. We didn't hear a sound, not even a single thing. In a distance we saw few houses and two tall buildings. Cars and buses were moving back and forth in a road far away, but not so frequent. There was a constant siren sound of an ambulance that came from nowhere. It looked like a toy world. The silence was disturbing for the reason unknown. Finally Dominic broke that silence.

"We're in Canada!"
"Yeah!" I replied in a base tone.
"How do you feel?" he asked again.
" Unbelievable! It's like a dream" I replied.
" Everything was like a dream, our plan, our flight, everything!"

I don't know why, but that made me uncomfortable. I decided to take a nap and after few hours we started to unpack our things, arranged our clothes and stuffs in the close and by the time we finished, we heard a gentle knock on the door. It was Diana and Dillon. Diana is my friend's friend , about whom I wrote, earlier in this paragraph. Dillon is a mutual friend. So, that's it! It's the six of us and an apartment. These are my roommates.

We went out to do a little shopping, the very same evening. We walked for five minutes, to get out of our apartment complex and then we reached a cute little bus stop. We took a bus numbered '38' to a shopping mall called 'Scarborough Town Center'. I think this is the right time t explain about Scarborough. It is a small little coastal town located in the Greater Toronto Area. If Scarborough was a human, then if you ask 'what's up?' to it, it would answer 'nothing much!'

Yeah, nothing happens here. It's just a quiet little town with a fairly medium sized mall, few primary and secondary schools, a college campus and a university campus. But I noticed one incredibly good thing about this place. It is greatly organized. The roads are divided into grids, both in a parallel and horizontal way, neatly organized intersections, punctual and frequent public transportation and to say the least, extremely nice people. People here are so helpful and friendly.

Scarborough Town Center

Scarborough has some the most beautiful parks, a great pure lake, ravines in the woods and some pretty cool bicycle trails. Now, it's been a month since I first stepped into this town. I'm trying to blend in here with the new community, new people, new environment and most importantly new culture. I bought a phone connection, I talk to my friends and family every day, I regularly visit the Toronto Public Library that's near my place, I could take the subway train and I could find my way out if I'm lost in the middle of endless tracks and intersections and I could go to Downtown by taking three different modes of transportations without any help. Today I'm completing my first month here and for one month, I could say for sure that I'm doing a good job of blending in.

My most favorite picture of mine ...