Hayden Hall(way)

I saw this guy today at The Blossom Café. No phone. No tablet. No laptop. He just sat there drinking coffee like a psychopath.

Monday Morning

“Pleasant” doesn’t begin to describe how perfect this Monday morning in Warsaw was. It was the middle of June; the calendar had just given way to warmer, breezier days in the North European Plain. These days are never too warm or too breezy, however. Rather, the temperatures rest at a perfect–not just pleasant–70 degrees Fahrenheit. And, confined within the high-rise apartments, the breezes maneuver through the bustling Polish walkways and gently kiss every person they pass, whether native or foreign to them.

It’s now my fourth week in Warsaw and my third week at my summer internship. I had quickly discovered the ideal route connecting my city-center apartment to my workplace. The route balanced time for a healthy morning walk on Wilcza and Poznańska with a punctual arrival at the bus stop on Koszykowa by around 9a.m. Along the way, small cafés, bars, and bakeries protruded from the stone apartment bases, and others sunk into the stone with staircase entryways and intricate iron gates. While each of these caught my eye during the first week along my route, all but the Sweet & Blossom Café had faded into familiarity by this particular Monday morning in the middle of June.

————————————————————————————

The Sweet & Blossom Café was almost uncomfortably small. Apart from a small wooden slab and two stools in a corner of the interior, the café space was only large enough to fit the impressive display case of baked goods and frozen delectables, and a small counter for the single café employee to handcraft coffee. If any free space existed for the eye to catch a break, it was already filled with decorative flowers. In fact, the café’s whole exterior–a small metal frame just slightly protruding off the major apartment building on Poznańska–was adorned in flowers, just as its interior was.

This floral theme was the first thing to capture my attention when I began walking my path. After stopping in my second time, which was consequently my second day in Warsaw, I had already devoted myself to their signature lavender latté after one try. Also at this second visit, the morning-shift barista, Ela, clocked me as an American despite my desperate attempts to perfect a Polish accent. “I knew before you even spoke to me,” she said. “You were too interested in everything here.”

Ela and I became great friends. And, I became a ‘regular’ at the café–punch card and everything.

Monday Evening

At 8p.m. on this Monday in June, I was wrapping up my final lesson of the day. We were working on particles and English-to-Polish equivalents. During a self-assessment exercise I gave to the student, a text notification prompted my phone to buzz. The student looked up and I quickly silenced the phone. Notifications always began popping up around this time of night; the United States was just waking up and starting its work week. Realizing my opportunity to catch up with life back home while the student was working, I opened my phone and checked my text messages. Hayden Warren Hall – An official letter has been sent to you by the BYU Honor Code Office. Access it here.

My heart stopped. An instant hot flash enveloped my body. Noticing my distress, the student asked if ‘everything was alright’ and I promptly ended class. I left work that night, hardly able to breath. I didn’t know at the time that that would be my last day at my internship.

Just outside the doors of the school, I read the letter. Just as I had feared, allegations of same-sex romantic and sexual behavior under my name were reported to the Honor Code Office. At my undergraduate university, students are disciplined for engaging romantically or sexually with members of their own sex. It is a constant nightmare for all gay students at the university. And, finally, the nightmare had become a reality for me. The dreaded fate I had so desperately sought to avoid for the last three years seemed to be mine at last.

To make a long and exhausting story short, I met later that night with the director of BYU’s Honor Code. I proudly owned up to my actions–actions I never have or will deem ‘wrong’–and consequently received the news that I would need to return home from Poland and my summer internship. After this revelation, I didn’t leave my apartment for two days. I didn’t eat. I didn’t cry. And I didn’t know what to do.

Next Monday

My flight was scheduled to leave early Tuesday morning. After receiving the letter, I had spent a week in my apartment, only leaving once to grab a few groceries from a nearby Żabka. Realizing this was my last night in Warsaw, I mustered the energy to take a final walk around the city.

I walked the same streets in the same perfect weather, but this time with an empty soul and a racing mind. I passed the Sweet & Blossom Café before pausing in my stride. On a whim, I stopped in to see if Ela was working that night. She usually just worked mornings but would occasionally cover a shift. I hadn’t seen her since last Monday morning, and she was my only friend in the city.

As I entered the café, a comforting aroma of cakes and coffee sparked a little light into my soul, and the sight of Ela behind the counter drove me to tears. I aggressively swiped away the tears as I walked to the counter. I tried to order a coffee and a slice of blueberry crumble in Polish. The words would not form and my brain swirled around me. Ela sighed. “Speak to me in English, Hayden.”

I told her my story. I told her I was gay. And, I confessed my deepest regrets to her over a curated coffee she had whipped up. All around us the flowers were moving in the light draft that the open doors was allowing in, and the sounds of the city outside muffled my weepy words. Ela didn’t say a word while I talked. For nearly 30 minutes, she only listened. After I finished, she pointed behind me. “Turn around,” she said. On the wall was a collection of magazines. I had seen it everyday when ordering my morning coffee, but it looked different since I last saw it a week ago.

“I just barely put up those Pride Vogue issues.” I turned back around to face her. “You didn’t know it but every time you came into the café, you were somewhere where you belonged.”

We finished our coffees and said goodbye to one another. As I walked home to finish packing, her words sat with my soul. I reflected on all the times I’ve sought out a café. After thinking on this for a moment, my mind was flooded with memories of back home. All the mornings, afternoons, and nights spent at Peace on Earth Coffee in Provo; why did I rely so heavily on this small café on Center Street in Provo, Utah? Wait, but why did I also rely so heavily on this small café on Poznańska in Warsaw, Poland? Ela’s words returned to my mind:

You didn’t know it but every time you came into the café, you were somewhere where you belonged.

Everyday

Spending your energy, time, and attention on things you love matters greatly. But it also matters where you spend this energy, time, and attention. Our happiness is built out of more than just our actions. Our surroundings and our spaces–our geography–encompass so much of our joy.

I’ve spent most of my life in places–literal geographic sites–where I don’t belong. Sure, I always notice it and it always upsets me. But rarely does it culminate in a weeping confession to a friend, or any sort of trauma-induced ‘need’ to belong somewhere. Instead, I bite my tongue and live through it. Or rather, this is what I once believed I did until Ela showed me some wisdom in words that were not even her native language.

Rarely if ever did I intentionally seek out Peace on Earth Coffee in my college town for ‘a place to belong’. It was simply a study spot–good food, good coffee, and good vibes away from BYU. Nothing more. Without Ela’s wisdom and this small café in Warsaw, I never would have seen this negative-facing paradigm I held for what it truly is: self-destruction of my own world. These cafés are not escapes from unbelonging; instead, they are destinations for belonging.

And these cafés are so numerous and so varied. I’ve found at least one in every town, city, and country I’ve visited. Walking in the doors, you’re met with queer people, artists, creatives, writers, workers–everyone from everywhere in a common space. Suddenly, it no longer matters what’s ‘out there’ that makes you feel like you don’t belong. The only thing that matters is what’s in here, whether you even know it or not.

So, I will remember that my heart knows best. When I seek a place out, and it feels right, it’s because my soul knows I belong there. I won’t need a verbal reminder from Ela each time I find it. But, that said, a tell-tale sign for me from now on will be a lavender latte and a blueberry crumble–I’m confident I can take on anything in the world with these two things in hand.

-Hayden