The first thing I look for when I'm traveling is a great coffee house. Coffee saves my life, especially when overseas.
On a recent trip through the central highlands of Vietnam, I hooked up with some older gentlemen - the Easy Riders. Veteran soldiers from the war, they offered motorcycle tours of the surrounding regions. Our tour started in the mountain city of Dalat and winded down to the beaches of Nha Trang, a 214 km trek through mountains and small villages on the back of a motorcycle.
Along the way we stopped at silk farms and a chopstick plant. But the highlight came at the coffee plantation where I mingled with coffee producers and learned how the beans go from bitter green buds to a steaming addiction.
Back from my trip, I traded my motorcycle for a metro-hike in Toronto and ducked into the Bulldog Café on Church Street and Granby. Owned and operated by feisty coffee artist Stuart Ross, the coffee house is bohemian, but real. Ross poured my bulldog latte and then turned his charm on two women standing behind me.
The women said nothing. The moment felt awkward.
"Yes," Ross said without batting an eye. "Hello to you two and you should say hello back." He spoke with finesse and without malice while filling cups with steamed foam. The first woman brushed past me and quickly whispered that they were on a silent retreat.
"OK, just stand there and I'll guess what you're having to drink," said Ross with an easy grin. The charm worked and the women smiled, breaking their silence long enough to place an order.
My coffee, complete with a custom topping and a healthy dose of fun, made me forget the blisters blooming in my boots. Warming my hands on the cup, I remembered the workers in the Vietnamese coffee plantation - their smiles and the delight they took in their work. Finding that same pride a world away from the humble beginnings of a bitter bean, without all the pre-meditated cooperate-decided greetings and jargon, made me realize coffee may just be a world unifier.
Whether silence is a result of a language barrier or a forced retreat, enjoying a good mug of coffee speaks a language of its own.
James W. Coates,
National Park Expert