cafe brasil

This morning I had a meeting with my accountant. She lives a fair distance out of town, so when she asked me to pick a place to meet, I immediately suggested Cafe Brasil, a coffeehouse 'inside the Loop,' in the Montrose area near downtown Houston.

Brasil used to be my local haunt: there was a time, pre-Alex, pre-Marcus, pre-many-things, that you could find me there on any given day, spending hours there on weekends with friends; or alone on evenings after work (when Brasil has more of a wine-bar vibe) with a glass of red and a good book. When we returned to Houston after living in Trinidad (and we needed to buy a house with a back garden for Alex that we could afford), we moved 'outside the Loop' -- and my days of daily visits to Brasil ended.

I arrived at Brasil early today, and so had the chance to have a quick breakfast and enjoy the scene before Diane arrived. I've always loved Brasil's clientele, a weird mix of bohemian tattoo artists and musicians, Rice University professors and medical doctors. This morning I saw:

a tall, clean-cut man, with the words 'Get famous, not a job' on the back of his polo shirt;
a middle-aged woman with very short, almost-shaved hair, wearing large hoop earrings and an African-print dress; and
a very young, dark-haired woman with intricate, brightly coloured sleeve tattoos and carrying a rather expensive handbag.

I really miss Brasil, with its eclectic mix of regulars, all of whom invariably aren't what they appear to be. And as I left this morning after my meeting, I promised myself that Marcus, Alex and I needed to make an effort to come back a bit more often, even if it means only doing so on the weekends.

Song: Corcovado, as performed by Everything But The Girl