Eric's Beijing Diary

The Reading Cafe. Nat King Cole singing in the background. Dim ceiling light and an ultra-bright reading light. A cup of coffee for 10 yuan. Refill for 5 yuan. Several people sitting and reading or talking quietly. A couch and lamp in the corner. Bookcase on one end. It's in a little alcove behind the bookstore. Same building as the Lush, but I guess that doesn't mean anything, because I haven't told you about the Lush yet.

It's nice to find a place that has "Reading" in its name. Not that it's necessary. I have hauled my books into coffee shops and truckstop cafes all over the United States and Canada, and none of them were called, "Reading." Fact is, I can only remember three or four times in my life that I ever got kicked out of a restaurant or coffee shop for studying, and that's not bad for a bookaholic like me. One was a stuffy old French Canadian waiter in Southern Saskatchewan when I was in graduate school at the University of Regina. Another was a misplaced waitress in an offbeat truckstop in Iowa. She told me to go read in the drivers' lounge, which is like telling someone to take a nap on a waterslide. A couple other times. But I'm spending way too much time on the exceptions. The vast majority of waitresses have been very patient with my addiction, especially since I often showed up in the afternoon when the place wasn't too busy.

Still, it's kinda nice to find a place that openly appeals to bookworms like me. A place where I know that my reading will never be an issue. Where I don't have to look around to see if someone is standing there hoping I will leave so they can seat the next customer. And since tipping is not done in China, I don't have to do any mental calculations to figure out how much I should "pay" for having stayed so long. Even without places like this, I would never stop reading, it's just that...but enough of my rambling. I'll shut up and let you listen to Nat King Cole...."Let's fall in love...."