01/08/2025
Sips, Stories, and Serendipity: A Café Memory Worth Keeping
Last evening, I finally stepped into the coffee shop I’d had pinned on Google Maps for what felt like ages. It took a few wrong turns before I arrived, but the moment I walked in, I knew the detour had been worth it.
I ordered a warm cappuccino and a panna cotta with việt quốc—blueberry, in Vietnamese. The staff handed me a little alarm device, and when it buzzed, I made my way to the counter to collect my treats. Carrying that full cup of cappuccino up the staircase felt oddly ceremonial, even a bit precarious. But I smiled through it—determined not to spill a drop.
I settled onto the first floor, tucked into greenery that softened the edges of the room. Red Chinese-style lanterns hung overhead, their ropes trailing downward like falling confetti. The soft light made everything feel dreamlike, as though time had slowed just for me.
The panna cotta was fragrant, and the taste was even better than its scent promised. My cappuccino came with a delicate leaf design in its foam—latte art made with care. I stirred it with the spare spoon provided, watching the creamy patterns swirl into a gentle blend. Breathing in the rich aroma, I took my first sip—bittersweet, warm, just perfect.
Behind me stood a bookshelf, stacked with worn novels and glossy covers. Something in me leaned toward a short story collection by Shin Kyung-sook. I flipped through the pages and landed on Somewhere, a Phone Is Ringing for Me. The chapter “On the Same Road” left me quiet and introspective. It told of three friends walking the same path, yet each experiencing it differently. That narrative unlocked two vivid memories of my own: walking at 2 a.m. through the hushed streets of Bien Hoa City after the spectacular New Year’s Eve drone show, and another evening spent strolling with a friend under Da Lat’s cool, misty skies. The story helped me relive the feeling—those silent, shared rhythms where conversation isn’t needed to understand one another.
I took a few photos, admired the layering of the panna cotta under my spoon, and paused often—not out of distraction, but from contentment. Everything—the flavors, the light, the quiet hum of discovery—came together like a small symphony for the senses.
It wasn’t just a visit to a coffee shop. It was a visit to a feeling I didn’t know I missed.
Here cafe ☕️
31.7.2025
