I try my best in life not to make excuses. While there is an art to making up a good excuse, and while there are appropriate times to explain a situation that caused you to arrive late or not get a job done, most of the time it is best just to take responsibility for dropping the proverbial ball.
Having said that, I will now make a list of possible excuses for my lack of posting over the last few months:
1. I haven't had time.
-This is a very good example of a terrible excuse. I have plenty of time. If I have time to sleep and eat and draw and make coffee and watch multiple seasons of tv shows on Netflix, I definitely have time to write a blog post.
2. I haven't been able to make it to any interesting coffee shops.
-Lololololololololololol. As if.
3. I lost interest in blogging.
-Rude and untrue.
4. I lost the roll of film from my trip to Canada and have therefore been unable to post about it.
-While this is the only true excuse I fully understand it is not actually a good one...
No matter the (decent or terrible) reason, I am here now, and I have stories to tell. This time about my trip out of the country and next time about the gem coffee shops I have discovered around my college.
Stratford is a lovely place, especially with the Autumn breeze breathing into the trees and over the water. I went to Canada because the English group at my school takes a trip up north to Stratford every fall for the Shakespeare Festival. We got up long before the sun Saturday morning and headed for the great land above us. According to my mother I went to Canada as a baby but I do not remember that scenario so I consider this trip my first out of the country.
Day one was the Shakespeare part. We began by seeing an odd rendition of
A Midsummer Night's Dream, we then switched theaters to see the ever-drammatic
Antony and Cleopatra. The night was finished out with strange desserts and soothing tea from "The Parlour." "The Parlour" was old, expensive, and utterly fantastic. It felt like like a sophisticated tavern, one any great adventure could start in.
Day 2 was the tourist part. Our large group split off into smaller groups as we set out to explore the to the downtown of Stratford. Of course I was instantly on the look out for coffee shops, but we ended up walking along the river first, since most of the shops were closed before ten. The river trail led us behind rows of buildings, over a bridge and then to a secret path behind a neighborhood of nice houses(it may or may not have been private property, we may or may not have been trespassing, I honestly don't know).
Once all the shops were open we returned downtown in search of souvenirs and, yes, coffee. We found jewelry and books and art and more weird food. I breathed in the foreign air and took close looks at the building and sidewalks. Whenever I go somewhere new I try to experience it to the fullest. I love to discover what is unique about it, what stories it tells, what memories it holds. Sometimes when I get to a new place I just take a minute to fill my insides full of its oxygen, becoming more a part of where I am.
The coffee houses of a place are important not just because they provide comfort and deliciousness to the people around, but also because they reflect the personality of the whole town. The two coffee shops I found in Stratford gave lovely pictures of the contrasting ways of living found locally.
"Slave to the Grind" was small, artsy and dark. A good dark, though, the kind of dark that I could find inspiration in. The coffee was good, but the atmosphere was better. A place where people could come without worry of distraction. A place to write to read or stare out the window and ponder the universe. A place to just be. And I really appreciate places that invite me to simply exist.
Across the street and down a few blocks was "Balzacs." This coffee house was the polar opposite of "Slave to the Grind." The only similarity was that they both served wonderful coffee. "Balzacs" was bright and crowded; it was also, classic. I liked the sophisticated nostalgia. The coffee was lovely as well. I wish I had had more time because I only got to try one brew and they had so many!
This is picture is from "Balzacs" and for some reason is probably my favorite from the whole trip.
I do hope to go back to Stratford. I would like to sit by the river a bit longer, to write a story at the Grind and maybe read
The Great Gatsby at "Balzacs," Fitzgerald's novel would be most fitting for it, I think.
I'll leave you now with a few pictures from the trip. As you look perhaps you can imagine breathing the Stratford air, if you really focus you may just be able to smell the maple leaves and coffee grounds.
