|The questionable café from the outside|
I hate jet-lag, it had me awake until 11pm, and waking up at 6am, I don't know what time is any more, it's like being thrown into a blender of confusion and being poured out into a glass of confusion topped off with sprinkles of crazy - what the fuck am I on about? I think I have too much on my mind that I need to dispense that I couldn't extract yesterday cause of that awful
This is French café is pretty good, people smile at you and tip their hat when they sit down, strangers talk to each other, the authentic French staff (from Mexico) fresh feeling croissant with a slab of brie, it's a hub of calm with a shell of cool. There is something a bit odd with it all though, I am questioning myself whether if this is a really a café. There's a peppering of 20-30 somethings but it's mainly the grey brigade, could have changed by now as I haven't looked up in a while...
... Yep, its changed, far more mixed now other than the crazy grey with a plastic jacket on with a world map on it, which looks like it has been ripped straight out of a 1970s geography class, he's so hip he needs a replacement.
|You learn to love it I guess.|
What makes this a questionable café (yes, even though the average age has dropped severely as the time edges nearer to noon, I need to put my next observation into a context) is the classical music; The wonderfully, light, crisp, whimsical, free, eloquent, educated, gentle classical music. Being played so people on the space station can hear it, it's astronomically loud! It puts boy racer's loud sound systems to shame and I'm surprised the windows are still in their frames, it's much be registering on a richer scale somewhere in Dubai.
I think I've stumbled upon a... middle-aged day nightclub (shuts at 4pm) no wonder people are smiling at strangers and starting random conversations with them. I better down or hide my coffee, I don't want someone to date rape it and I wake up in the evening with a sore head and a sore... Then, have an awkward chat about the weather if they're there (maybe I'll have the chat to myself if they aren't) I'd then have to do some sort of night time walk of shame, most likely naked with strange photos on my digital camera.
It would also be a waste of a day and sunshine, I've got shopping to do, people to see, work to be done, I can't be wasting it being drugged and raped. Plus, don't these people have jobs (other than drugging tourists and selling them to the highest bidder)
Time to go I think
Composed: Rose Café & Market, Venice