Ragged Edge Coffee House
(I wrote this 2 years ago about a place that I loved so much. And then I moved to New York. And I think it’s still my favorite place…)
My favorite place –- an excerpt from the life of hannahnoelani
I entered through the eggplant colored door from the outside windy Fall day and immediately the smell of warmth and caffeine flooded my nostrils. Rugged and artsy, at first you feel out of place, especially if you are not an avid coffee drinker and it takes you longer than it takes the average hot beverage fanatic to choose between a hot chocolate or something more coffee-ish. I made a compromise with my self and decided to get Mocha. To make the experience complete I picked out a rather large blueberry muffin from the glass case where it once sat on display tempting wayfarers.
Like the insides of the building, the rugged and artsy man with blonde, skinny dreadlocks pulled back in a loose ponytail, rang up the order most likely unaware of my fascination with him.
Some people have these eyes that shock you and all you can do is stare into them in awe despite the absolute feeling of insecurity while doing so. Mr. RuggedandArtsy had “summer changing to Autumn” eyes that gleamed like a tall, graceful goblet. When I was under hypnosis from his captivating eyes my heart quickened with thoughts that flashed through my mind on whether my eyes were hopelessly dull or just as captivating, though I doubt the latter. One does tend to wonder what others perceive them as, hence the whole concept of first impressions. What made the whole situation worse was his smile, which was large, and unfortunately for a poor, little, insecure nomadic girl like me, just as captivating as his eyes. Pulling myself away with self-talk that ultimately was putting myself down, I found a table and flipped open my laptop pretending I wasn’t interested in this completely and oddly interesting being.
Genuine Nicaraguan art graced its walls with prices marked on little stickers. The money used to buy the painting goes to the person in Nicaragua who painted it. This room is called Project Nicaragua. And on the second story you find more art from local artists. Amazing handmade pottery, done by some guy named Alex, sits on windowsills and the mantelpiece. I found my eyes darting from art to art, drinking in the beautiful simplicity, yet majesty of it all mixed together with the acoustic music and smells of warmth and love in liquid form.
I am so fascinated with this place because of its beauty and also because of its mystery to me. I have yet to be in every room or out by the garden. Things and rooms are still undiscovered. I don’t go often, or hardly at all actually because it is downtown and you have to park aside the sidewalk and pay a quarter per 1/2 hour to the parking meter. There is a bony manly looking woman who struts around writing tickets and so kindly putting them on windshields for those who go over the time they paid for. I am pretty sure that is all she does all day in this small tourist packed town.
This place that I love has its own sidewalk chalk artist who draws wonderful things all morning until it is finished. I love to see what he will draw so colorfully. He hasn’t done anything in a while and I am sad about that. I did see him, I think, just the other day. Cigarette in between his fingers, puffing out a stream of white-grey smoke, carrying a coffee in his right hand and wearing a long brown, well worn trench coat as he crossed the street and stood waiting to cross another. This completed his look as the mysterious sidewalk chalk artist. I just didn’t get the whole shorts and Vans thing. The shorts were dark khaki so I kind of get that… but the Vans? I like the people of this favorite place of mine. They intrigue me.
And I guess that is what it is all about: this artist’s world of intriguing things.
