I’ve eschewed Starbucks this week in favor of a little place called Bean Town in Sierra Madre, California, right at the foot of the mountains. It’s a local hangout, as eclectic as you can possibly imagine, where people are as friendly as can be. Furniture consists of a few old kitchen tables and couches indoors, and a few tables outside. The typical denizens are either chatting, reading, or absorbed in their laptops – predominantly Apple and it suits the place. And both the coffee and the wifi are excellent.
So I’m sitting there right now on a Friday night, and a band is playing in the corner, tables pushed aside to accomodate a small stage that hosts a folksy/bluesy quintet. A night’s entertainment for the price of a cup of very good coffee. And while it would be nicer if my lovely wife was sitting here beside me, it still is a pretty nice place to spend and evening. Or a few evenings.
It’s funny, but I ended up in Sierra Madre by accident the first time so long ago. So I guess it’s accurate to say that you don’t find Sierra Madre, it finds you.
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