A traditional coffee shop

Yesterday I went back to the little coffee shop in the mountains to show it to Mike. We sat on the veranda and neither of us spoke for ages as the view invades you. It gets inside your mind and you cannot think. Mike saw a monkey wandering along the road-I couldn't see it from where I was sat but he said it was big and my students were unsurprised at this news-in fact said it was probably not fully grown. The only other customer-a very intellectual looking man came over to talk to us and told us that historically this cafe was important as a place to make friends. He told us about his restaurant near by and when we looked it up we were sold-must try it out it looks delicious.
I forgot my camera but I don't think pictures can capture an atmosphere anyway. Those coming to visit will get a chance to feel it but for other people. I did what I always do when I want to capture something-here's a little poetry snuck onto the wrong blog I know but maybe it will give you a flavour.

A Coffee in Japan

Mountainside.

Only still and peace.

Running brook.

Stirring trees.

I can smell the hundred year old wood used to build.

This meeting place.

A monkey saunters by.

Bigger than he expected.

Stirring soul.

Trying to make sense of what he sees.

Silence from us.

Sensual overload.

Can there be this many greens?

The smooth path of fingers over coffee cups

No uniform shape or colour

Just ritualised elegance.

Not just a coffee.

Not just a tea.

Stirring history.