and Romanticizing Cafes

Queue: Spinning by Winyah

Note: Most of this review is actually a yap session disguised as a mini review. The main details of the review are highlighted below with a header that reads as “The Point” at the bottom.

For one reason or another, I found myself on a day trip to Thunder Bay, a small city in northern Ontario. I was actually meant to be here for a few days, but wildfire season persists, so I find myself taking a detour and a relatively free day thinking of the minutiae with time to kill.

I've been constantly of the mind that I hate small towns. Everything bad in my life has come from a small town. 

Hyperbole, obviously.

That being said, I've grown to romanticize the idea of a small town by reading too much Emily Henry in the last few years to the point that I've started to think about how Hallmark movies might actually have some heart rather than being oddly reprinted money grabs.

Ironically, I grew up in a relatively small town of 75,000 people. Though my later teens and adult life have been completely in cities of about half a million people or more. Nothing wild in the grand scheme, but definitely formative.

In the day and age of constant information, a subject I've loved and studied, it's a double-edged sword where I find myself missing what I read in the romance novels in hand. The lack of community and ritualism, in the grand scheme, is what I'd suspect is at fault.

In the city, I love having the option to do things, but I find myself longing more than doing these days. I'm avoidant of the term yearnings as I feel somewhat narcissistic and a bit cliché in saying it, but it feels appropriate.

All of these thoughts flood the surface of my mind again, of course, are sparked by Club Cappuccino, a homely, accessible cafe to travellers and locals alike. A surprisingly heavy lean on the local component. A lot of older folks and younger workers pass through and hangout in what I miss from a lot of modern cafes. Conversation and community with no rush for expediency and an encouragement to hang around.

I haven't seen a single cafe in the city that has so many people conversing with one another, where the baristas remember all of the locals--and I mean ALL of the locals--that stop by. It's close to something I dream of calling home. Not now, and not here. But the spirit, the energy... It catalyzes that small piece of me that whispers, "What happens after all of this?" 

As in, the work, the hustle, and all that.

The small piece flickers and smoulders a lingering ash, a dream of mine to own a nice cafe/bar, books flooding nooks, plants abound, maybe my own dogs roaming around. I like the idea of it being by the beach, or the mountains, or both. A simple, welcoming atmosphere to meet new folks and friends to gather. I want that home after all is said and done. Naturally, my passions that exist now would still be present. I wouldn't just vanish from my drive to learn, grow, and all that nerdy stuff that surrounds it. Naturally, it's not a fully fleshed-out dream, but one that connects to my dreams of hosting friends and family for sports nights, games, and generally doubling down on things that connect back to people.

Upon first arriving at Club Cappuccino, my first thought was "how long will I be able to be here before getting asked to leave," as I have some things to work on. Very quickly, that thought faded away. See, I had called in advance regarding the Wifi and an outlet for my computer. No Wifi, no problem. I've got Data, so that'll cover my needs on that front.

"We only have one outlet, but I'll save your table by the front window where it is." I was told over the phone.

As I sat at the cafe, it wasn't busy initially, but after an hour, it was bustling. No specific rush, just a warm, consistent buzz. And seated just a slight turn from the front door was a plastic cup of water, ice, and a straw.

                                                                            For me.

Call it jaded or a "shame that we've drifted away from these times." But for some people like myself, I've never experienced such a far away, isolated hospitality that doesn't just speak, but sings in the details "I'm glad you're here." Without ever having met previously.

It's worth noting that small gestures like this aren't something I'm proclaiming "must be the norm!" I feel like that encourages more competition than community intention. You can't just train someone to be hospitable or believe a culture will cultivate notes in the margins for the next person because someone requested it. It's fostered, exemplified, and evokes a communal want, not a need.

In one of my majors for my bachelor's degree, I had studied the changes of culture in a given organizations culture. Immediate change is more or less impossible.

9 hours in many circumstances is hard to leave a lasting impression. Club Cappuccino left me with one in much less time. These 9 hours will soon pass, and I'll be headed back to the city, longing for things to do, pushing myself to take action. To meet and befriend more and grow more. I look forward to it.

Oh, and the iced coffee was alright alongside the Nanaimo bar. Never hurts to have a piece of somewhere near what I used to call home. Just so we're clear that this still has something to do with the review of the Cafe. Ultimately the coffee just becomes an excuse for the experience, however.

It was simple, in the grand scheme, but it was lovely all the same.

The Point:

Club Cappuccino warms the body and soul in a northern hospitality I wish I knew of sooner. Ready at a moments notice for a request and ready even sooner with your name and a smile to follow. I spent a majority of my day here unintentionally, but I’d gladly stop by again to check in on the news, local gossip, and an iced coffee with a Nanaimo bar on the side.

While it’s easy for me to be blinded by the romanticized version of the cafe and cafes in general, the coffee and food was alright, but nothing wild—not that it needs to be, mind you. But the experience was a pleasant surprise.

3.75/5