J&S Bean Factory

Weather: 27°, Still and grey.
Coffee Shop: J&S Bean Factory • 1518 Randolph Ave • St. Paul • First Time
Drink: Coffee, drip ($1.86+tax M)
Book: The Best American Travel Writing 2001 edited by Paul Theroux


Coffee
Today marks my first trip this winter to a St. Paul coffee shop. Generally, the only time I knock a St. Paul shop off the list is if I have other things to do in St. Paul that day. Today I met some friends for breakfast in downtown St. Paul, so I had my excuse. My choice was J&S Bean Factory in the Highland neighborhood, which I had long been wanting to visit.

The Bean Factory turned out to be the epitome of a neighborhood coffee shop. The counter was staffed by 3 or 4 boys who appeared to be of high school age, and my assumption would be that they are all neighborhood boys. Everyone here seemed to know each other, and those who didn't expressed to those who said that they're from South Minneapolis that "Oh, wow, you're a long way from home!" (You know, 5 miles.) The shop is quaint: rough around the edges, well-worn, comfortable, and homey. And yes, small. It was a hub of activity at all times. They kept the music either very quiet or very off, and conversations were the special of the day. One wall in the main seating area is covered with canisters of coffee beans that you can purchase by the pound.

The coffee, however, was much less notable. I wasn't allowed to order an Americano per my Mel Standards; it doesn't seem to me that an Americano should cost more than an Espresso, since it is just an espress with water in it, so I won't order it if it's marked up. Thus today's drink of choice was a good ol' drip coffee, the Kenya AA. I also ordered a mocha chip shortbread cookie ($1.50), which I'll just sum up by saying was perfect with coffee. The coffee at first didn't seem to have any flavor whatsoever, and I was slightly disappointed. However, when it cooled down to my preferred temperature ("warm") it seemed to brighten quite a bit. Still, in my extremely novice opinion, the coffee was of average character. It's probably not something I would order again. My only true let down was that they served the coffee to me in a styrofoam (sigh) cup. I saw that a few people did have glass mugs, so I don't know if they were just all dirty, or you have to ask for one, but I think reusable mugs should always, always, always be a coffee shop's M.O. unless you explicitly ask for it to-go—first for the environment, and second for the coffee drinking experience.

Book
Today was another day of a short story collection. The Best American Travel Writing is a volume that I fall back on time and time again. It goes with me on airplanes and in tents, and yet I have still not managed to read much of it (I always mean well when I travel, but I understandably get distracted from reading by living). The piece I chose was Why We Travel by Pico Iyer from Salon.

The piece was exactly what the title suggests: an attempt to answer "Why do we travel?" In nine pages the author makes insightful and philosophical observations into our motivations for traveling, our impact while traveling, traveling's impact on us, how travel has changed, how every place is unique yet the same, and how travel is as much about what is within us as what is outside of us.
We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again—to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more.


Reading this story was an exploration into my own mind and travel experiences. One particular point he made that stuck with me is how he talked about our effects on the places and people we visit. To the more remote places that we travel we truly are ambassadors of our own country, our own people, and our own culture. We have the responsibilty and weight of being a full representation of these things. I think it's important to take this knowledge wherever one travels. It also reminded me of a moment when I was in Ethiopia, when a large group of village children were crowding us as we walked down the road and, being silly, wagging their tongues at us. I got into the mood and stuck my thumbs in my ears, jiggling my fingers, and wagging my tongue back at them. Their eyes widened, they giggled, and they immediately mimicked my "wiggly moose antlers" gesture. Even after we were in the van they continued this at the windows. I could only laugh at the image of the next group of white folks to walk through this village who are greeted by hundreds of waggling fingers.
Not the least of the challenges of travel, therefore, is learning how to import—and export—dreams with tenderness.


Why we travel. The reasons are as many as the stars in the sky. But Pico Iyer manages to pick out some of the best, and give us some small pieces of advice that any traveler would be wise to heed. Travel is not just about seeing new places—it's about learning what's in us, what's in others, how to be human, how to be optimists, how to tread lightly, and to recognize that the world is both beyond our imagination, and within it.
Travel is the best way we have of rescuing the humanity of places, and saving them from abstraction and ideology.
And if nowhere is quite home, we can be optimists everywhere.

People Watching
Students studying for finals. Neighbors who are here every day. Holiday gift buyers. People working on a Sunday but still trying to get some of that "lazy Sunday" feel...in short, the whole darn neighborhood.

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