This is specific, yes, but that's because it needs to be. Bucer's exists in two different spheres, alternately filled with two completely different crowds. There's the August-May crowd. The school crowd. The studious stressers, the procrastinators, the true believers who refuse to acknowledge the fact that Bucer's & legitimate studying are mutually exclusive. You can walk in with the best of intentions, of course. Laptop in one hand, Calvin in the other, determined to "sit at a table in the back" and "hunker down" and "just tell people I'm here to study and I can't talk." I admire these people for their self-confidence, but it just doesn't happen. And that's okay. It's the charm of the school-year sphere of Bucer's- the fact that you can't walk in without seeing 12 million of your classmates and friends around every corner.
In the summer, this place slips into a different dimension. Tonight, there's music. And there are people here, but they're of a completely different ilk. These are townies, the type of people I've become accustomed to growing up here. In fact, when it comes right down to it, I'm a townie myself.
In many ways, I feel left behind. The fact that I no longer see countless beloved faces every time I walk into Bucer's is mildly sad. I miss the daily little interactions, the busyness, the chatter that resounds within these cozy brick walls.
But on the other hand, I relish this little secret I have all to myself. I am one of the lucky few who knows the sweetness of sitting at the long table on a warm June night, sipping Americanos & savoring Key Lime Pie in the heart of summer. I see Bucer's in both its worlds, as a student-haven and as a midsummer's gathering place. I walk through it in hurried stress and in relaxed, sun-induced peace of mind. My experiences in this place are widely varied. I ate Bucer's famous old Giant Cookies as a seven-year-old, and I sit here now, sipping iced tea, as a grown-up. I've seen twelve Moscow summers, and, year after year, I walk the sun-soaked streets of this town long after everyone else has left.
cheers to this unique perspective I've been gifted with, this firsthand knowledge of the good & the bad of this town, year around. cheers to many more summer days spent in this place, missing the faces of the migrators I love, but relishing the flair of the ones who stick around, the ones like me.
cheers to being one of the few in Bucer's at 8 PM in late June. I wouldn't trade it.
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