Today just once again proved without doubt that learning something depends very largely on the person who teaches you. Maybe it's not anything as simple as passion or apathy, knowledge or ignorance - I think a lot of it comes down to the way people interact, and the way aspects of people's personalities mesh together. There are things that I value very highly in a teacher other than just knowledge of their particular skill, and I feel like that's wonderfully illustrated in the differences between Jesse's and Abby's abilities to re-teach me the basics of latte-making. It's a similar, helpless frustration to getting braces, or having a restricted driver's permit, or not being able to go into an R-rated movie. Basically what I'm saying is that being retaught the most basic of skills is like being turned into an adolescent again, all awkward and embarrassed and unsure, but doing so now at the loss of any kind of excuse other than the fact that the most urbane of people that you make lattes for couldn't tell the difference between one of your South Carolina lattes and one of their New York lattes.
Abby really did reform me, though. More importantly, she made it not a big deal while doing so. She showed me how to navigate a right-handed machine without losing my own style, how to interpret the complex language of pours, how to tell when milk is just there for a good latte. Most important of all, though, she told me several times not to stress about it, and offered me as much encouragement and praise as critique. I know I still have a long way to go, but she told me that my three tries on shots and three tries on milk were both admirable, and told me that great progress had been made. With a little more practice, she told me, I'd be an excellent barista.
Funny thing - they don't wear aprons here. Which, after my five years of working steadily in an apron, is sort of like trying to do drive with your left foot (ohh the lame metaphors today). Instead, the Naidre's employees just carry a rag with them, most often tucked into a pocket. I chose my back left pocket (as it never holds anything else, and as it makes the most sense when holding an espresso filter in my right hand). Within minutes of my choice of placement, though, I noticed myself paying more and more attention to how I was walking - because I really, badly wanted to see how much I could get that stupid rag to swing when I was walking. So if you ever make it up to Naidre's to see me, and you notice me walking around the corner to go down into the office, keep an eye on my walk - I'll be popping my hips just a little extra to get that rag to swish.
Sinclair and I are quickly befriending each other. More than anything, it's just good to know there are people in this city who will have my back if I need it, and he is clearly willing to do so. Also, funny thing - when sitting in this cafe, I'll see a shape moving out of the corner of my eye, and for just an instant fully expect that person to be one of my regulars from home. Sometimes being so far away is great, sometimes it's awful, and sometimes my tired mind just thinks it's absolutely strange.
I went to the Kuniyoshi exhibit at the Japan Society tonight after work, which was really amazing. I honestly wish I'd been less tired and there'd been less people, because it was absolutely incredible - his prints are brilliant, the lines are so dynamic, everything just looks spectacular. Right after that, I went up a few blocks and got some udon at a cute, cheap little place on E. 47th street - a full meal for nine bucks is a great deal, and this was some magnificent udon.
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