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May 16, 2005

4 p.m. at Wayne's Coffee

One of my favorite places in Karlskrona is Wayne's Coffee. At Borgmästaregatan 20, the cafe sits on a main corner of town. It's a great place to "people watch". The town's only club "Kino" is directly across the street, so there is usually a flurry of tour busses, roadies, and performers strolling around--usually with a look on their faces that say "how did we end up in this podunk town?"

On the other side of the street is the bevy of clothing stores, so there is always a trail of teenagers giddy with their new purchased wandering the streets. The style here seems to be a revival of 80s punk with a Scandinavian flair. Because the weather hasn't warmed up, yet summer fashion is in the stores, there is a strange mix of miniskirts and thick quilted jackets, always complemented with a scarf wrapped tightly around the neck.

Inside Wayne's is another scene. First of all, the cafe is child-friendly, and there is usually a gaggle of young mothers (sporting the miniskirt-jacket combo) with their gigantic strollers (in Sweden, the closest thing to a Hummer is the 4-wheel strollers everyone pushes about) pushed into a corner. Between the dozen or so babies, these mothers (all looking about 20 years old) giggle and down coffee by the gallon. Decaf, I presume? Occasionally a father comes in, and it's hard to believe that these adolescent-looking boys could have procreated in such numbers. The official word is that Sweden has a dearth of babies, and to maintain adequate population levels the Swedish government has given scandalous benefits to new mothers. I have a feeling that the small-town mentality of Karlskrona, where it must seem that all your friends have given birth by the time they've hit 21, has something to do with the baby boom too.

As far away as humanly possible from the baby scene lurks the international students. I have never been to Wayne's without running into someone from my program. Wayne's is one of the only places with wireless internet access, and so it's a natural draw for the graduate students. In exchange for absurdly expensive fare, we are welcome to stay for hours--an offer we accept all too often.

The best time to be at Wayne's is on Saturday mornings, before the farmers market gets going a couple of blocks away. There is a calm that belies the coming storm, as every family in Karlskrona will put in an appearance for brunch. Good luck finding a seat if you arrive after 11 a.m. on a Saturday, and good luck being able to hear your companions over the dull roar of the crowd. Yet, if you manage to stick it out, the masses begin to slip away at 1 p.m. and by the early afternoon it seems that the rush for coffee was just a dream.

Right now, I'm sitting against the wall with one of the myriad silk pillows cushioning my head against the plum-colored wall. I'm supposed to be working on my thesis (Ronan is finishing up the PowerPoint presentation at the table next to mine), but I just can't seem to focus. I'd rather watch the people around me. To my immediate right (just past Ronan), there is a couple that I hope is a father and daughter. She can't be more than 15, at the very most, and OH MY GOD SHE JUST CARESSED HIS HEAD. I feel like I should call the police, but because I can't understand the language, I'm reluctant to make a fuss. I've alerted Ronan to the scandal, but he doesn't seem concerned.

Next to this couple is another pair--I'm guessing from Kino. They both speak English, and are dressed in too much black leather to belong here. She has orange hair and a nose ring, and he has a green t-shirt that is so snug I can make out the shape of his nipples--not that I was looking, of course. She seems unhappy with him, and he has the patient look of a much put-upon boyfriend.

To my left is a group of men with British accents, people I don't think I've ever seen before. I'm curious where they come from, and how they ended up in Karlskrona, but I won't interrupt their conversation. Instead, I'll sip my coffee and pretend to do some work.

I'm starting to feel the pressure (only 14 days until I leave this town forever) of finishing my thesis, revising the textbook, and packing everything. I managed to mail my box home today, for a mere 760 SEK (that's about $115), but I have a feeling that my trip to the post office will be the high point of productivity in my day. The weather is drizzly and the gray sky always makes me lethargic. And with the days creeping by with ominous regularity, I find myself more apt to dawdle over silly things that I want to remember than buckle down and produce silly reports.

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Posted by: kevin at May 16, 2005 06:40 PM

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