The hardest part about trying to become a famous writer is the trying part.
Honestly, if I had an addiction to cocaine or heroin, I'm sure my work would be more profound and visceral, but I only have the experiences lived in the streets of California's Bay Area and have an allergic reaction to needles and anything (outside of my finger) that needs to go up my nostrils. I'm a horrible candidate for an addiction. Outside of my need for caffeine and shoes (both easily cured by a trip to DSW that allows me to walk in with my Starbucks Skim Grande White Mocha), I may be one of the most boring persons walking this side of the Brooklyn bridge.
 Heights Coffee It is at Caffé Nero that I am reminded of Heights Coffee shop in Brooklyn. A sleek representation of life, and the reason I've allowed myself a rest from the 11 Starbucks in the central London area; this is my attempt to find some morsel or unique idea through osmosis of coffee beans as I walk down the cobblestone street a mile below the Angel tube station. Like Brooklyn, London has such quaint, tree-lined streets, one would never guess it existed in the memory of Jack The Ripper, or more recently Love Actually and Spice Girls.
Brooklyn has always been a hidden jewel.
Brooklyn, the treasure heavy borough defends its pearls: Brooklyn Museum, Botanical Garden and Main Library. You can lose yourself for hours in the borough of Babylon listening to music, sitting in the park or drinking at one of the many cafés without ever being physically assaulted, or losing your wallet to the wiles of its sexy older sibling, Manhattan. This is where the resemblance between London and Brooklyn ends. London is expensive, fast and dirty. The bus rides are cramped and cost 2 pounds each ride, no matter that it's a two-part bus ride to one location. That's right – Big Ben's home does not offer transfers, people.
And don't think of asking for any special accommodations on your sandwich; there are no cheese substitutions. Very un-American, I will have you know.
 Caffé Nero The space is filled with people on cell phones, a TV blaring and a baby feeding on organic apple juice. This is when you remember your laptop carrier holds the key to silence: headphones. And so the dream can be fulfilled.
Heights Coffee, resting outside of the 7th Avenue subway station, swarms with people and laptops and coffee-tinted air. The leather chairs steal and hold tight your body heat and the establishment offers free Wi-Fi as well as electrical outlets for the battery-drained, like myself. Sitting in the posh neighborhood of Holborn, I decide I will write about London, sipping the mocha like a secret, still hot to my tongue. I will write about the café that took my coffee order and perfected it for the sake of my smile. I will write about the difference between Flatbush Avenue and London cobblestone.
I will be cunning and liken the cream in my cup to the wrap over my shoulders and the smell of Guatemalan beans. I won't fear the workers weren't paid fair wages; that is another writing session altogether.
And honestly, I need another cup of coffee before I take on that project.
Mahogany L. Browne, author of Unlikely & Other Sorts & Black Secret Soul, Editor of women's anthology HIS RIB, owner of PoetCD.com and slammistress of the Nuyorican Poets Café, loves drinking coffee, reading poetry and watching her daughter sing the lead in school plays.
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Coffee & Brooklyn: London
By: Anna Savage () on 16-01-2008 20:32