#0 The cafes in my memory
The owner of the cafe in Sydney was Chinese. Inside the yellow-painted cafe, which was operated 24 hours a day at the Central Intercity Bus Terminal, foods of various nationalities were in food warmers. With Chinese foods as the main dish, there were various types such as Italian foods lasagna, Korean bulgogi, Indo curry, and sidedishes of Japanese cuisine.
It was open 24 hours a day, so, people from various countries including Indians, Asians, Middle Easterners, and Westerners, were working part-time. The owner always looked tired. The long-distance bus stop was in front of the cafe and was crowded with people trying to get off the bus to take out their food for a moment. And it was also the beginning of the trip. I used to visit the cafe often because it was nice to see these things. I might have been watching them thinking that I wanted to go on a trip as well. Maybe that’s why I finally made a little long journey from Canberra to the island of Tasmania, past Melbourne.
Traveling around the island, I arrived in a small town called Richmond. The small village had a tranquil and beautiful landscape and a matching English antique tea house. At that moment, I entered the cafe as if I was fascinated. The tables well set with forks and knives had a stand marked with a reservation written. A group guest was supposed to come. The person who greeted me at the cafe was a middle-aged butler with a historic atmosphere and dignity, wearing a long black apron. I ordered coffee and cheesecake, and the taste didn’t disappoint me, either. It was a time to forget the tiredness of the journey.
And I chose Hokkaido and started a cafe just because I liked white snow. It was possible because I had memories of these cafes somewhere in my mind. The start was romantic, but I’d say the process was never easy.
But I think it was the time when I could be myself the most. So, I want to remember it without forgetting.
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