On an inconspicuous corner just minutes away from the busy center of Madrid lies an enchanting coffee shop by the name of Café de La Luz. With twinkling lights and a warm atmosphere, the quaint coffee bar certainly lives up to its charming name. Although situated in the Spanish capital’s busiest district, Malasaña, Café de La Luz feels like it exists miles away if not in an entirely different dimension altogether.
Entering the shop, one encounters a scene almost straight out of Alice in Wonderland: mismatched seating, somewhat bizarre paintings, and nooks and crannies galore- the mad hatter would feel right at home. He would also most likely go even more mad for all of the delicacies he could choose: a decadent chocolate layered cake, a sweet raspberry cheesecake and even a coffee liqueur, if he so desired. But one does not need to be a fanatic of tea parties nor an enthusiast of maximalist decor to appreciate Café de La Luz. All you really need to have is a little bit of curiosity and an appetite for delicious warm coffee.
On a cold morning in early January, I was lucky enough to have both. It was January 5th, 2022, just days after my roommates and I had welcomed the New Year with crazy (overly drunk) festivities. In contrast to the hysterics of the days prior, this morning was calm: blue skies dotted with just the right number of white clouds. Like me, Madrid and its residents seemed content to remain in a lazy haze. Its streets were particularly quiet, speckled only with the occasional passerby walking their dog. Its tall yellow buildings seemed to bask in the sun’s rays. With no school for another five days, what better way to spend the chilly morning than sketching in a cozy Spanish café?
“Seeing artistically does not happen automatically. We must constantly develop our powers of observation” -Eugene Delacroix
Years before I ever considered moving to Spain, I had spent months during quarantine dreaming of coffee shops just like this one. While others perfected their baking skills, learned a new language or knitted elaborate scarves, I scrolled through Instagram and Pinterest and imagined myself in cute coffee shops in European cities. Considering travel restrictions, these apps became my Delta, United, and American Airlines.
For anyone experiencing wanderlust, you can be rest assured that this sweet coffee shop is the place for you.
“Wanderlust – noun [ U ]- the wish to travel far away and to many different places”
Cambridge Dictionary
But I was not alone on this introspective morning; along for the ride was my trusty red sketchbook.
Art had always been an important part of my adolescence. Long before I attended my first art class or could afford fancier sketchbooks, I would draw on anything I could find: napkins, old receipts and even church bulletins. But as many can relate, not everything from your childhood follows you into your adulthood. Soon, essays, readings and projects replaced the time I had for art. Eventually, the girl who enjoyed drawing large manga eyes had slowly faded away.
While most of these changes were the result of time, I can not deny the influence of social media in this personal trajectory.
Although Instagram and Pinterest allowed me to travel the world from the confines of my bed, they also furthered my desire to dream myself out of my reality. In seconds, I could leap and exist in one of the countless perfectly drawn images I was inundated with.
But months of seeing only perfect creations made me overthink my creativity. I could no longer draw for the sake of drawing. I had to create an aesthetic. I had to be in a quiet location with intimate lighting and of course, listening to one of Spotify’s multilingual ‘Café con Leche’ ‘Cafezinho’ ‘Café au Lait’ playlists for that calm coffeehouse atmosphere. Above all else, I had to produce something worthy enough to post, regardless of whether someone would ever look at it.
This mentality– that only “perfect” things are worthy to exist — has also become ubiquitous with traveling. I am a culprit of this. It is no coincidence that only once I moved to Spain that I began to bring my sketchbook everywhere. It is also no accident that I felt my life could be written about only once I packed my bags and traveled thousands of miles away to the romantic lands of southern Spain. Surely, this could not be done within the confines of my small apartment in the United States. As I got older, I felt the same about drawing.
My professor for my art class, ‘Desenho de Observação’ (Drawing from Observation) would most likely beg to differ.
Throughout quarantine, he attempted to convince a host of demotivated students (myself included) that there was value to be found wherever you were. There was beauty in what one sees outside of a window. There was beauty in the way a glass jar reflects light. There was beauty even in the ways two walls touch. The location is only of secondary importance. What matters most, is one’s point of view.
Of course, there is an innumberable amount of interesting and beautiful places around the world. Even so, it can sometimes feel like beauty can exist only while walking along the cobble stoned streets of historical European cities. This is not a mindset that only I hold. It is no coincidence that Euromonitor International ranked Paris as the “world’s top city destination” for a second year in a row in 2022; Madrid came at a close 4th. [1] To conclude that Spain or Europe, even with all of their alluring features is the standard of beauty, however, is to diminish all that the world has to offer.
Things are changing. Even so, I think many who travel or who dream of traveling seek these specific “romantic” enclaves– myself included. Where one lives can feel like plain black coffee: healthy and practical but forgetful. On the other hand, traveling, especially to places that fulfil a fantasy, can feel like a perfect cup of café con leche or better yet café bombón with its rich bottom layer of leche condensado. It promises a getaway and a syrupy sweet shot of serotonin.
But one can not subsist on café bombón alone. I assume that even this sugary sweet delight, like everything else, will get tiring over time. And when it does, is the objective to move onto the next sugary combination hoping it will satisfy this elusive craving?
Withstanding the necessity to investigate the colonial and economic elements behind European tourism, the solution may be found closer to home:
observation.
Nearly 2,000 years ago, Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations journal, “Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life.”
On any given day at any given location, there are thousands of little occurrences that are worthy of observation but are largely overlooked. Observation does not have to only focus on the grandiose. It could be a cat dozing off on the top of a car or laundry strewn on a wire or even a vase safely kept on a bookcase. When paid just a little more attention to, these things unfold into a scavenger hunt of life’s little secrets. A cat’s fur may actually be more reddish-brown than black after hours spent in the sun. A string turns out to be three braided into one. The vase might be a family heirloom.
When taken to a larger scale, one can see how the act of observing can shift the ways in which one might relate to not only traveling but staying in one place for a longer period of time. Observing allows one to appreciate aspects of a place that may have been previously overlooked if not intentionally hidden. One begins to recognize that a neighborhood’s architecture was influenced by a certain historical and artistic movement. There are certain types of trees in a park because they respond better to the environment. Maybe a local food market is collaborating with nearby restaurants to showcase the cultural diverisity of a city.
From this vantage point, one can not so easily define what beauty, traveling or enjoyment is. Considering this, black coffee doesn’t seem so bitter anymore. Maybe, it’s more about how one makes it than what it truly is.
Three years later, I think I am finally understanding what my professor said.
Drawings in ‘Desenho de Observação’
Where in the world 
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