CAFE PILGRIMAGE

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22719, 4 November 1935, Page 5

CAFE PILGRIMAGE

A EUROPEAN JOURNEY : WHERE KINDRED SPIRITS MEET 1 *■ .. ■ AN ANCIENT HABIT I From earliest times, the hostel or the 1 inn, the cafe or the bar, has been a gathering for kindred souls, says a ; writer in the Cape Times. The cafe in France in its best uses differs but little throughout the length and breadth of La Belle France. It lias charm, brilliance, and a certain cereele de cameraderio into which the stranger is permitted to enter. At least he is not excluded. All those who have read that delectable work, “ Tartarin de Taruscon,” should take the trouble of visiting the ■ little Provencal hamlet of Tarascon. ’ There—just as I did—the wayfarer will find a Tartarin to the life in one of ■ the cosy cafes. Incidentally, he will ; meet France devoid of veneer. A • France that—no matter what his own , nationality—he will love, . Any evening he will find them all • assembled, telling stories, playing i bezique, bragging deliciously of adveni' tures they have dreamed rather than ‘ done, telling tales of soldier deeds, ' taking themselves seriously, drinking ’ economically, talking expansively, and ■ giving advice generously. 1 Going back to their homes and their wives at an early hour they will retail how they had just settled the affairs of 1 the nation satisfactorily. They had 1 fought five battles and two wars! Ah, if it were not for the politicians, 1 perhaps we might fight all our wars in the cafes amidst the flow of nothing more red tlia.ii wine! . . . One cannot think of cafes, however, without sighing over Vienna. Who can recall the brilliant cafe life of Wien during the Empire without a sigh, nay, without a tear? There are scores of cafes to-day in Vienna, and they are far from being uninteresting. They dot the Ring from Vollzeiller to the Votivkirche. For the most part they resound with music. But it is not the music we used to hear with Imperial reserve in the old Sacher when Madame Sacher herself used to preside, smoking a black cigar. NOT THE SAME. Nor is the old Graben Cafe the same in temper to-day as during the sad days of the inflation period when wo used to gather round the lukewarm source of heat and sing the old songs from the little leaflets handed to us, sip our Tee mit Rum and munch our butterless Broetchen. Wo know that when we cannot find a person elsewhere we make a round of the cafes—and are always successful. Wo know that we have looked in a cafe window at a familiar group in discussion at 10 a.m., and happening by at 10 p.m. they are still there. The waiters are the gentlest souls following the napkin, and are not affronted when wo call them “Kellner!” The Austrian cafe is the forum where we may still hear the tangled affairs of the Second German Republic being threshed out over wurst and heurigen wine. “ Opern Cafe,” “ Mozart ■ Cafe,” | “ Stadpark,” “ Schooners,” “ Graben,” (“Muscen,” “Krantz,” “Dorn,” “Imperial,” “Bristol,” “Grand Hotel,” “ Erzherzog Karl ” —und immer welter, i They all should be endowed—at least i for what they have been! . . . In the “ Kardpinab England is very economical with' 7 its social -'amenities* j (which'might be a symbol for ten thousand other London tea shops) we find two rows of tables along the side walls. | Dozens, of English men and women sit j there and read and perhaps dream j Occasionally, they speak, but only politely. ! Strangers remain strangers and seldom j mix. It is much like a' religious rite where all gather in the temple for the j Mass and mingle only in spirit. ITALIANS, TOO. 1 j 1 Italy is somewhat similar in this re- I spcct in its public table relations with foreigners. On the other hand, they are’ most loquacious and intimate in fraternising with their own Italian kind. ] I recall vividly the attractive little, i “Trattoria della Sora Eugenia,” on the corner of Via Firenze and Via Modena, J

where I used often- to lunch or to drop; in for ah afternoon; glass of red-wine.' I not only sat apart,,but I was separated by all the blood that flowed between the Anglo-Saxon and the Latin. • Not so with all the others. Sora Eugenia herself sat up at her tiny comtoir that was like a prie Dieu, knitting. She closely resembled the late Queen Victoria gone swarthily Italian. Three steady customers were butchers by trade, who always came in wearing their slightly bloody aprons. They sat at a favoured table close to Sora Eugenia and soon would ensue a dramatic colloquy that threatened to raise the low ceiling. Every other patron in the wine-shop j joined in. The taxi chauffeur drives up and goes j directly to the huge refrigerator that i is the pride of the place, and takes out j his own bottle of wine. Then he enters i the little portiered doorway with the I painted plaque of Virgin and Child with ] a burning taper before them, passes through and brings out his own hot dish. Angelo, the single waiter, is familiar friend as well. For an hour there is a perfect uproar, sometimes reaching passionate heights of temper. The meal over, they I all go out as though nothing has happened, refreshed in body and spirit. All the bile of the day’s accumulations of mishaps and ill temper worked off, burned up, fed and feasted. For meat and drink to become, such a function daily simple folk like them is worthy of a nation’s praise and thanksgiving. ... FAMILY SPIRIT, When we come to Germany, we find a triple offering of cafe. There are the beer cafes, or restaurants, the wine Lokale, and the international types to be found on Kurfuerstendamm in Berlin, and all over the Reich. But the point that is most significant is the essential difference in the temper of the people and the atmosphere of the establishments. If my reaction is to be credited, I have found more Gemuetlichkeit, which is best translated as “ family spirit.” I offer fin example that is a “ classic.” It could not have occurred anywhere else except in Germany, I am sure. It happened in our favourite cafe on the edge of the Tiergarten, where we went several times a week. That was the outstanding feature of the place; we all went there several times a week, until it took on the character of a resort in which we figured as the one big family. Our waiters were the family servants, so to speak. The musicians knew us personally and knew our favourite pieces, and played them for us. The Kuchenmaedcheh always saved us our piece of cheese cake; the cigar woman at the door handed us our favourite 15 pfenniger as we came in. Which made it all very nice and homelike, MANAGING THEIR CLIENTS. But above all who added to our contentment was Willi der Ober. Willi was not the only waiter; in fact, there were a dozen, strong characters all of them, who- showed the family character of the place by “managing” the clients or guests. You could not come in and do as you pleased. No, sir. The waiter sooner or later took you in hand and thereafter your cafe life was ordered to suit them. Willi was especially that way. Willi looked like an accountant m-lio had failed to account for his accounts. We sat down at his table one night and thereafter became his personal guests and always waited for him to seat us in his grouping .of tables as the waiters were given new assignments every other night, so that they would all have a fair chance. Well, to sum up, our last night In Berlin before leaving for the States threatened to be a tragedy because it was Willi’s night off. We informed him that we could not put off the boat’s sailing on his account, lie told us not to mind, that he would fix it up to the i satisfaction of everyone. Wo came as usual, sad-hearted not to find Willi. It was raining cats and dogs. In the midst of our dinner who should appear but Willi, soaking wet despite . his raincoat. He had a little bunch of I flowers and he bade us an elaborate farewell that nearly interrupted the traffic ! in the cafe for a few minutes. It was the zenith of all of our cafe experience and it tells something of the ! character of the German cafe and its 1 1

difference perhaps from those of other ■ nations. There was something of the essential character of the German in it. Just as there is something of the na- *' tional character in all other cafes of all other nations. V