During my last few hours in the southern Netherlandish city of Maastricht, I was tasked with acquiring coffee for the family. At first it looked like I might have to wait some time before the city woke up - a lone employee tinkering behind the glass of a bakery told me to come back in over an hour. But as I rounded on the main shopping street (or a very popular thoroughfare I’d noted the day before), to my delight, a youngish woman was going about the business of setting up her Dunkin Donuts shop for the day.
The night before had been a lavish spectacle of André Rieu’s making: mum and I found out he was conducting a concert 4 hours before it started. We enjoyed the soaring vocals as the sun set, and the performers shimmered in their formal wear.
Back to 8:45am the next morning: the woman looked like a feminist, so I tried to dust off my impersonation of a northern European one with my order. Apparently I had missed the mark - she pointedly raised her head, demonstrating the kind of dignity and self-regard that came rushing back to some extent. Uncaffeinated and culture shocked, I watched her closely as she worked the coffee machine and wondered what uninspiring brews I’d be imbibing - this was an American fast food franchise, after all. We made a little more eye contact here and there as, one by one, five espressos made their way to me. (I had three of them right there, and it was the best coffee I’d had on this trip to Europe.) With each exchange a little bit of her mindset rubbed off on mine - by the time I collected the remaining two coffees, I felt reinvigorated. And it wasn’t just because of the flat whites. Something had been reawakened, which had been lying dormant.
I fear I will go back to being a mere Australian feminist soon… but in the meantime that memory lingers on.
No comments:
Post a Comment