Artist: Sue Blackwell.At Guimaëc, the shore has no romanticism and knows no sunbath for paid leave: it is the end of a craggy continent which charges down on a cold English Channel. One comes to it to pick up seaweed for the manure and one comes to it to do surf from April to October in wetsuit. The Café CapLan is perched on the steep coast’s hill and its picture window is hit full-force by blue breeze. Inside, the café offers to drink to little customers in wintertime: previous seajobs calmed down by the retirement and by the end of the former century; divorced teachers; students back to parents’ place for the week-end; locals, discreet or boasting. Tourists in summer. Inside, there is greek white wine because it is good. There are hoysters from the neighbourhood because it is good. There are tons of books because it is good. A French babyfoot too and toys for kids. A Bookshop-café facing an unfriendly and cold seaside without any neon lighting: Cassandra is wrong and the last word is not said yet.
Newspapers already reported on it; national tv came to see the place where Cassandra is wrong. But it is remoted in finistère (finis terrae) and the shore is brutal: in spite of media coverage, crowd is elsewhere. The café has a peaceful wealth of books on Situationism. On the shelves Georges Steiner’s works rival Nick Tosches’. Julien Gracq’s books are always in complete and deferential collection. Ignorance prevents from exhaustivity but, in one word, the café’s shelves are talkative. Coffee is good. So is the greek white wine.
Café CapLan
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