I arrive before the masses, jazz music greeting my ears, a smile from the Czechia-born hostess.
I wipe my feet, smile back.
Organic coffee for sure, and, ooh, a pain au chocolat, and my goodness the pumpkin hazelnut cookies look exquisite!
The bakery is decorated for Christmas, lighted garlands frame the windows, a wreath hangs over a mirror, a metre-tall cloth Santa Claus hangs from a coatrack, the cellophane-wrapped stack of artisan cookies, once tied off with twine, are now decorated with twists of red ribbon.
Above my head, a bell tied to a curl of garland, accented with pine cones and sticks of cinnamon.
In the corner, the inevitable Christmas tree, replete with lights, balls, and shimmering with tinsel, a star crowning its topmost limb.
As I gaze at the tree, a light snow begins to fall beyond the window.
Two construction workers emerge from the nearly-finished apartment building across the street, order coffee and pastries, and leave.
An elderly gentleman arrives, removes his gloves, bats them together in a practiced winter maneuver to remove any flakes of snow, chats with the hostess in Czech, and orders a loaf of uncut bread, which he slides into a cloth bag with a practiced hand.
My eyes wander the room.
The walls are busy, decorated with antique paintings, most behind glass, photographs, and mirrors inside etched-wood frames.
At the coffee stand is a board with a medley of hundred-year-old photographs of the Okanagan, one showing a Canadian Pacific Railroad depot along the south shore of Okanagan Lake, with a paddle wheeler (perhaps the S.S. Sicamous?) docked at a pier.
Today, the station is gone, the railroad tracks removed, and the paddle wheelers retired, replaced by motels, a road, and a concrete promenade that runs the full length of the sandy shores.
No longer a transportation hub, the south shore of Okanagan Lake is a busy beach destination.
A young couple sits at the table next to me, talk about the flavour of their pastries, and chat briefly about family details surrounding the upcoming birth of their baby, which looks like it will be arriving quite soon.
Finally, the woman sighs and says, “Please, let’s not talk about the baby anymore. Let’s talk about something else.”
The man smiles and begins talking about office dynamics and an upcoming conference he will attend for work.
Soon, the hostess brings a small gift bag of cookies as a gift to the expecting mother, to celebrate an imminent new life.
When the man leaves to use the washroom, called a “Water Closet” at this bakery, the woman pulls out a journal to begin writing, just as I close my own journal to take my leave.
