Saturday, September 16, 2006

I have a mission – and it’s to raid all the coffee places in Dumaguete (or anywhere within my reach by creaky motorcycle) as much as I possibly can. I guess my being a coffee addict has its benefits. After almost nine years of being an adopted ‘Dumagueteño’, I finally had the initiative to start memorizing where you find certain places in what streets.

At the moment, I’m seated at the corner bench here at The Lounge Compuesto, a newly opened café-slash-bar-slash-restaurant, seemingly writing my Friday afternoon away. I’ve read their flyer once, (when some girl shoved several papers at me while I was approaching Hibbard Hall) and it says that their coffee shop closes at 5 pm. I’m convinced that this place turns into the ‘bar’ after five.

The buy-one-take-one coffee shake is nice, or perhaps I’m only neglecting the fact that it tastes just like the instant coffee I always have at home because the cute waiter who served me offered to brighten the lights a little bit so I could see what I’m writing. I’m also loving the fact that these two tall glasses with cherries on top only cost me thirty pesos. Yep, thirty measly pesos.

Oops – the cute waiter just approached me to tell me about the cakes they have. Banana Flan or Mango Float. I told him I’d have the latter, and after informing me that it’s twenty-five pesos, he gave me a smile! I smiled back, of course.

I guess the only problem I have with this place is their music. I’m currently listening to some oldie-pop song which I could have sworn was sung by Michael learns to rock. (I remember hearing this song back in second grade.) The place is almost deserted as well, except for two men at my left, gulping down a couple of Colt 45’s while engaging in a somewhat deep conversation.

Ooh. Their mango float tastes heavenly.

Overall, the Lounge Compuesto is given THREE STARS for effort (and the cute waiter). As much as I’d like to give it a higher mark, I feel there’s something missing. And besides, it could never compare to my all time favorite, Café Antonio.

I was back at Café Antonio last night. The owner (whose name I have yet to find out), smiled at me. He probably remembers me to be one of their “suki” – a group of boisterous students (no offense LYDE, EASTER, MARIANNE, DENVER, DIRGY) who constantly ordered just one drink each and stayed until the closing time.

He signaled to me if I wanted to play the piano. I politely said “no” and took my seat.

Surprisingly, John was the one who took my order. He’s a classmate back in Grade 4 (I didn’t know he worked there). I wonder how much he makes. If I decide to stop studying, I’ll probably consider getting a job here.

I ordered a Mocha Frap Classic and Ham & Cheese Sandwich and buried myself in Menchu Aquino Sarmiento’s “Meditations of a Piss Artist”.

It’s about a misunderstood guy who has become a pessimistic and troubled student in UP Diliman whose area of expertise is making his piss look pretty. Quite the rebel, he made his teachers fume (and horny) – and easily became the class hero. Women practically threw themselves at him (including his gay dean) and he simply entertained them, like he’s doing them a favor.

But there was this one girl whom he treated like nobody else. For him, she was different – demure, innocent, intelligent – far from the other women he’s been with. The problem was, he couldn’t even make a move on her, and she seemed uninterested.

In the end, he makes love to another woman but imagines the girl of his dreams. They aren’t even making love in his mind. They’re simply talking, and laughing, and kissing.

I left Café Antonio at 9 pm – I promised my mom I’d go home early. I almost left without paying! Hehe. I give Café Antonio FIVE STARS for being the best place to stay. Their coffee selection is delightful, and the piano-work is perfect. I feel like an bohemian-indie artist and a metropolitan yuppie at the same time. :p

Wait a minute. I swear this cute waiter was the guy Kleng2x introduced to me at the Booth Area. But then again, I’m not sure.

Going back, I also visited Coco Grande two days ago – just to save me from being caught driving without a license. I parked around thirty meters away from the checkpoint (Coco Grande lot) and stayed inside until the “dakop” was through.

Yippee! Michael Buble! (Finally a decent song.)

I was the only one in their Café, freezing cold. I ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake, and again, put out my stories and read. I especially liked “Termino” by Dean Francis Alfar (the best storyteller ever!)

I’ve never really eaten at Coco Grande’s Café before. I just realized that it has this sophisticated atmosphere that is quite promising. It just lacks music and personality. I bet they’d have younger customers if they only made the place more ‘masa’ yet still exuding that hint of urbanity and cosmopolitan feel. I give it FOUR STARS because I was able to concentrate on my stories the most staying there.

I glance at my watch. 3:30 pm.

Shit. I think the cute waiter’s gay.