There's something about the corners of old cafés that whisper secrets of the past—secrets of longing, dreams, and silent understandings. Yesterday, as I stepped into the dusky ambience of a quaint café, I was enveloped by a sense of nostalgia so potent it was almost tangible. Here, amid the faint murmur of conversations and the mixed aromatics of coffee and cigarettes, I rediscovered the old, familiar warmth of carefree summer days spent among what I used to name 'ordinary' people, a feeling that I'm sure many of you have experienced in similar settings.
As I left, I passed a man smoking in the doorway, engrossed in his mobile phone and unaware of me approaching from behind. I slipped through a narrow hallway that smelled of cigarettes—a space probably intended to keep the winter cold out. The man was not large and stepped aside so I could pass. I hurried away from the stifling cigarette smoke, but nostalgia washed over me. I did not recall my father's cigarette smoke but rather that of a typical Dutch summer café, with the sound of laughter and yelling from the kitchen and clinking glasses filling the air. A café is exciting for a teenager: am I noticed? Do they like me? Do I belong?
Those 'ordinary' people by then probably had no idea of the connection and cosiness they radiated, which was foreign to me at home. At home, we were individuals, not a close-knit family. We only experienced a revival of our family ego when we grew up. By 'family ego ', I mean the collective identity and recognition we receive. People found us interesting because of our lifestyle: vegetarian, creative, full of lively discussions, or simply because we lived passionately and did what we were good at. Suddenly, we felt recognized and popular.
Yet, I immensely missed that everyday cosiness. It seemed inextricably linked with cigarette smoke and alcohol. Later, when I smoked myself, I enjoyed having cigarettes with my neighbour. Doing something 'naughty' together brought a special kind of relaxation. It was wrong, and that just made it all the more enjoyable. Being naughty and bold together created a bond. My craving for a cigarette was a longing for that connection, a feeling that I'm sure many of you can relate to.
I wonder why cosiness often goes hand in hand with unhealthy, addictive habits. Could it also be healthy? Like walking together? I think so. Other healthy habits? Eating, sleeping, talking to the cat, chatting on the street, and Pilates! Unfortunately, I cannot run, but I can make the Bodytec sessions more enjoyable. Could it be a social place, a place of belonging, more than the name suggests?
But was there a difference between 'us' and 'them'? Don't all teenagers feel that same longing for other families and customs? Often, teenagers appreciate their own family less, driven by a deep desire to break free. Cigarette smoke reminded me of that urge in my adolescence, a typical youthful longing for freedom and connection.
After leaving the café, we found ourselves near Muiderslot, a castle near Amsterdam renowned for its storied past. We settled on a terrace, a perfect vantage point overlooking two locks and a bridge both opening and closing, with some traffic and ships lazily coming and going. The atmosphere of the Saturday evening was slow and sleepy, the tranquil rhythm of the summer with passing boats.
It may have been half a century ago that I felt this nostalgic feeling. How many people across different periods and cultures must have had that urge to belong without knowing what made them so nostalgic? Did the teenagers 1000 years ago, once living in and around the castle, feel that same longing for other families, other customs? What did they do? Being naughty and bold together to create a bond? And were they all just as ignorant as I was fifty years ago?
Atmosphere of Simenon! Great writing.