Starting from the Heart

When we first saw her poised outside a clothing store, she was dressed in a velveteen top mottled with splashes of sapphire and cobalt blue. The t-shirt rested atop layers of black tiered skirt and a pair of bright green sandals. She wore the look with delicate makeup and an air of casual assuredness, and I mistook her for a fashion model.

We walked up to her and professed admiration for her radiant style, but she laughingly assured us that she was only out walking her dog.

For someone turning so many heads on the street, she was insistent on declaring her normality. She introduced herself as an intermittent resident of Shanghai (originally from Liaoning) and identified as a mother of a soon-to-be graduate student. Even as we talked she was waiting for her child to finish rehearsal—we did not ask if it was her son or daughter; she lovingly used the reference “child”.

Yet in addition to being a mother, she is also the owner of a coffee shop in Xiamen. When we, surprised, asked why she decided to run it, she smiled and said,

“I like drinking it [coffee].”

With her dog

She went on to explain that coffee is like tea, that one tastes it and over time relishes it, and then later decides to dedicate time to it. She herself was introduced to coffee by chance through a friend’s invitation. The purest adoration for its flavor pushed her to seek coffee-brewing lessons with trainers from Taiwan and Japan and finally led her to set up her own shop in Gulangyu.

Gulangyu Island, Xiamen. Image sourced from the internet.

“When you develop a liking for something, you will naturally spend time pondering it. When you discover yourself in the process of pondering it, you have already fallen in love with it.”

I tried to imagine her bending over a coffee grinder. The tranquility of coffee-making struck me as very different from the vibrance of her demeanor, but the steady, committed voice could not have been more consistent with the figure before us.

She then revealed even more dynamism: before she began running the coffee shop, her time was spent pursuing design and traditional Chinese painting. She smiled upon reminiscing.

“I don’t really paint anymore… it’s hard to put my heart into it.”

Her syllables were light, not dwelling or mourning over this fact. She continued to explain that a career in coffee-making is an intense responsibility that demands almost all of her spare time, but she doesn’t regret setting down other interests to dedicate herself to coffee.

Smiling when telling us the story

“My [painting] skills are nowhere near what they were before, but I tend to think my thoughts have matured.”

Her voice was strong and free, unbound to any past obligation. I didn’t ask if she ever came to have any regrets. She’d already begun talking about her plans for the future—one day, she might run a coffee shop in Shanghai too.

“It’s much more than coffee itself. When I make coffee, it’s about the sentiments behind it and the emotional affinity people have for it. I dedicate myself to doing whatever it is I have at hand, and I put my heart into it—people in Shanghai are like this, too. This year I’ve visited many shops in Shanghai, large and small, and I get the feeling that people are devoted to what they do. They are starting afresh…”

Editor: Melody Ding