I push open the door to Chocolate Notes and make a deliberate effort to take in the white floor with the swirly scores, the dark wooden tables and chairs, the shelving packed with CDs. Fiamma and Jan give me a warm smile from behind the polished counter. Faces and smiles I want to remember always. Just like I want the sound of Vaughan Williams’s English Folk Song Suite playing through the speakers to permeate into every cell in my body. I want this moment to be forever stored in my mind and heart. It’s my last visit to Chocolate Notes.
“Lovely to see you. How are things?” Fiamma says gently and I am grateful to her for sparing me the now customary “All packed up then?” fired at me by all my Norwich friends and acquaintances for the past few weeks, in that flippant tone used by people who are settled, rooted, and have no inkling of the stress involved in moving as often as I have.
“I feel like I’m losing my my mind. Honestly, I don’t know what planet I’m on. I’m just a packing machine on automatic pilot. There’s still so much to sort and box up and I worry we won’t be ready by the time the removers come.”
Both travellers from other lands, Fiamma and Jan give me a look of deep understanding.
I should be at home, opening and emptying more cupboards and drawers, tearing more parcel tape, labelling more boxes. But I need a break. Even more, I need to spend a half hour with people I’ve come to consider my friends. People who are pleased to see me, easy to talk to, who accept however little or much information I give them without judgement, prying or leaping ahead to complete my sentences (incorrectly), without feeding my words to the next customer eager to amplify them or change them before passing them on in turn to the next Norwich resident. Many a time over the past ten years have I been told by acquaintances and so-called friends episodes from my life that bore as little relation to reality as 1950s American films were faithful to literature classics.
In a city where, in ten years, I failed to find my niche, Chocolate Notes has been my safe place, somewhere I can be myself and let my imagination run free. A multilingual, multicultural place with wonderful music and sparkling conversation, where patrons introduce themselves and their companions to you, invite you to share their tables when the café is crowded. A world of colour and imagination and one which, unlike other independent Norwich coffee shops, stays open until late. A classical CD shop that filled the void left by the closure of Prelude Records, in St Giles Street in 2017. Last, but not least, a café that serves a wide variety of hot chocolates – none cloyingly sweet.
“Big move, takes it out of you,” Jan says softly.
“My thirty-ninth house move, fifteenth to another city, ninth to another country.”
“Find a table,” Fiamma says, “we’ll bring you your favourite.”
It takes a friend to know when you’re mentally, physically and emotionally too exhausted and disorientated to make even the smallest decision, and step in with warmth and support. I’ve been sleeping four-hour nights for several days, my brain is foggy, my body feels like that of a Hanna Barbera cartoon character that has been mashed, mangled and pelted. The sound of stretched parcel tape is an earworm in my head. My fingers are streaked with tiny scratches from making up cardboard boxes. I obey gratefully, drift to a table by the window, drop my rucksack on the floor and myself on a chair.
Within minutes, there is a cup of my favourite hot chocolate – sweetened with Algerian date syrup and spiced with fragrant cardamom – and my favourite snack: buckwheat crispbread with hot sauerkraut and grilled Comté. Friends remember what you like.
Before I’ve even had a sip of the delicious hot chocolate, I see Fiamma and Jan occupy the chairs at my table. Each has a hot drink. “May we join you?” Jan says, although they both know I’m delighted by their gesture. Friends saying goodbye.
“I’ll call you if I have a concert in Nice,” Fiamma says.
“And if there’s an unmissable history of art event,” Jan adds.
“You could always write a paper on Dufy,” I reply to him. “There are a few beautiful specimens at the Musée des Beaux-Arts.”
“Or else we’ll all meet in Paris, as Chrystelle says,” Fiamma says, laughing.
“Where is Chrystelle?”
“She’s away in Paris.”
I’m sorry I won’t get to say goodbye to young, quirky Chrystelle. There is always someone you can’t say goodbye to when you leave. Something to look forward to on my next visit to Norwich.
* * *
And so goodbye Chocolate Notes and Norwich, and thank you for the past ten years.
Fare thee well, England, and thank you for the past forty years. I will miss your choral evensongs, particularly at Norwich Cathedral, your tempestuous winds, and your shapeshifting East Anglian skies.
Hello, France…
❧
Sauerkraut and Comté snacks
❧ Buckwheat crispbread
❧ Sauerkraut
❧ Comté cheese
❧ A tiny bit of butter
Heat the sauerkraut with the butter and arrange on the crispbreads, cover with grated or sliced Comté. Grill. Serve.
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Scribe Doll 
Thank you. There are many of us. And my European friends feel the same sadness. The open spirit of a beautiful community has been fenced off, relenting to the sentiment of small groups with a paranoid fear of ‘strangers.’
I am sorry, for some reason my initial reply to you wasn’t published. I am so sorry you were humiliated like this by the draconian post-Brexit policies. I think they’re inhuman. And all that for what? For the lie that Brexit would save the NHS? I noticed the country start to change since June 2016. Becoming even more insular. I am sad for us all.
Oh, dear. I find that sad. I hope, after 32 years, the neighbours will reach out to you. And that you will make some friends in East Anglia. Is it the flat land and low skies that make the folk keep to themselves like this?
Oh, hello!!! How lovely to hear from you!
Oh, Katia, I don’t know why it says I’ m anonymous, really!! I’m Anna from Russia, your long-term subscriber:) You know me quite well.
Hugs to you and lots of kind wishes!
Best of luck in the Sun.
I have been in East Anglia for 42years now. They say it takes 25 years to be accepted. I wouldn’t disagree with that. They are polite but they don’t interfere. I have no idea who lives in one of the houses opposite – after 32 years living in mine. Enough said.
I’m with you, Katia. I have Dutch nationality. Moved to England in 1978, our son was born here, got indefinite leave to stay in 1984, worked here, did more studies here. Irrespective … I had to go through endless loops and form-fillings to prove my right to stay. It was utterly humiliating.
And the postal service between UK and EU is atrocious. To send a book, for example, costs usually more than the book. It may arrive or not, or be returned. Deep grief.
To tell the truth, England has become a difficult place to live for us, especially since Brexit. The fact that we couldn’t create a proper network in Norwich meant we had little to keep us there.
I imagine you will find such a place. Your posts are always a delight. I’ve never been to Nice, so I’m anxious to experience it through your eyes. Much love back!
Katia, I hope you enjoy Nice, and maybe even make it to Menton, which is rich with lemons. A friend’s husband came from there, and I have heard only good things about it. He was gone too soon, but his village (as well as our memories of him) lives on. ~Nan
You mention you failed to find your niche in Norwich, and I wondered if this had a part in your decision to settle in Nice.
In any case, I wish you a smooth transition. Moving, while stressful, is also exciting. I hope you find good friends.
Grazie… Non so chi sei :–(
Ti abbraccio fortissimo….
What do you mean by “last straw event”?
Thank you so much. Much love to you.
Thank you, Sue!
I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are, since you, too, appear as “Anonymous”. I wish I could place you! Thank you for your kind words and good luck to you in Ireland!
Merci! And thank you for all your kind words.
I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are – you appear as “Anonymous” – but you must be a regular, supportive reader. I have an inkling of who you might be. If so, can you e-mail me in private? Thank you for all your kind words!
Thank you, Nan. I am planning a new series of posts about Nice… without recipes, though. More about colours, scents and other experiences.
As you know, Chocolate Notes is an imaginary café I created to fill a gap in the Norwich market. I hope I may a real café I like in Nice. By the way, I am planning a series of posts about Nice soon. Thank you for your lovely support. Much love to you.
Dear Katia, I’ve so enjoyed this series, but I know you will find some lovely cafe in France where you can settle in and feel welcome and at home. I look forward to hearing your tales of such a place, as well as about the culinary and spiritual nourishment they offer! Sending hugs!
Katia,
The recipe sounds delightful and easy to make. I hope that you continue writing the blog. I enjoy reading of your adventures. Best of luck in France. ~Nan
Oh Katia, so you’re leaving England for France! Fancy me reading this post of yours in Paris where I arrived a week ago to visit my daughter who is living now here. She and her Italian fiance moved to Paris from Milan last July. And they are absolutely fascinated by Paris and other parts of France which they have had the chance to see so far. I’m also very much impressed by this city! So I wish you all the best in your new place of residence. Also, looking forward to more wonderful interesting stories and impressions !! Best of luck dear Katia!
Shall miss your missives on Norwich and especially on your Chocolate Notes. Wishing you many great stories about your new “adventures and friends” in France.
Bonne Chance!
Bon courage et bonne chance dans votre nouvelle aventure! C’est énorme , changer de pays, pas besoin de vous le dire, mais cela permet d’avoir un tout nouveau regard sur la vie! Nous avons quitté notre vie confortable dans le Devon pour découvrir un nouveau paysage , d’autres horizons en Irelande Ouf! No going back! Je vous souhaite tout ce qu’il y a de beau pour l’avenir (et du bon chocolat)
May the future bring good conversations, more loving friends and warmer climes. Hopefully there will be more Scribe Doll from a new beginning. Love Suex
Oh my! What a huge transition. I am saddened to read that in ten years you never found your niche in Norwich but I hope you will in Nice. Your ode to Chocolate Notes and what the café and its staff have meant to you is lovely. I can empathize with the stress and exhaustion of moving—especially moving to another country. As you know from my our long friendship I have moved many times in my own life. When I moved into my current apartment with the help of my sons and friends, my youngest son Peter said to me, “Ok, mom, you can’t move again for five years.” His comment was tongue-in-cheek, but I have been in my current apartment for more than seven years now—the longest I have ever lived anywhere. I wish an ocean did not separate us so that I could help you put together boxes and tape them up. I look forward to hearing about your new life in Nice once you have settled. Bon voyage et bon courage! (That’s about the extent of my French. My late son Peter was the French speaker in our family. ) I will be thinking of you and wishing you well with both the move and a new life in Nice.
Was there a last straw event?