I’m spontaneous and tend to live in each moment, which may seem a bit contradictory to the fact that I am also a creature of habit; I settle into certain routines regardless of where I am. Today I would find my cafe in Bangalore, among other things.
Cafes are my sanctuary: a place to write, contemplate, and relax—a place to enjoy my coffee and cigars. And while you’re not allowed to smoke in the parks here, you can do so in outdoor cafes.
Not everyone likes being outside. In fact my last full day in New York I met up with Brian (whom I’ve known since we were twelve). He came into the city to have lunch and catch up with me, as he does whenever I happen to be in town. I met him at the Port Authority and escorted him via subway uptown to my old neighborhood in Midtown East.
On Second Avenue at 50th Street, I took him to a favorite pub of mine with a great Southwestern wrap, where we could sit outside; it was a nice, sunny day. But I could tell he wasn’t digging it: “Would you be more comfortable inside?” I asked. “Sure, why would we sit out here with all this noise and sun when there is nice air-conditioning inside?”
“You know, a lot of people actually like sitting outside,” I said. He nodded, “I know, that’s why I usually find uncluttered seating inside.”
When I lived in Buenos Aires, I ate outside about 80% of the time, and here in Bangalore—with surprisingly beautiful weather: low humidity, mid-70s to 80s—I am enjoying the outdoors.
The first two days (Friday night and Saturday), I ate at Western-branded restaurants (McDonald’s, which I haven’t eaten at in 25 years, and Pizza Hut) to give my system a chance to adjust to the local food.
Today I was determined to find my local haunt, and did so one block from the hotel. Cafe Pascucci is an Italian cafe; at least the menu used Italian names for its items, including salads, pasta, sandwiches, bruschettas, and desserts. It also has a wide variety of coffees, ranging from espresso, cappuccino, cafe Americano, flavored coffee, and even decaf.
The interior is very contemporary, with large white club chairs and soft lighting. Outside, there are simple but comfortable patio tables and chairs.
I’m writing this post from the cafe, where I’ve been for the past few hours: reading The Times of India, eating lunch, drinking endless coffee, and smoking.
An Asian girl sat with a guy at the next table and kept looking towards me and smiling. I’m not sure if it was a come-on, or just an acknowledgment that I was a foreigner like her. My friend Jim noted — when he and I were in NYC together — that I was stupid in that regard, and couldn’t discern when girls were interested in me. I guess he’s right; I don’t, and didn’t.
Not only is the place nice, the staff friendly and accomodating, a chicken sandwhich was only US$1.50, and expresso coffee US$ 1.25.
A stuffed chicken with spinach and cheese, with a side of French fries and a green salad, was US$ 5.00
Yeah, this is my spot!
Now that I’ve found it, I can start exploring and enjoying the rest of the city.
