I was delighted to find that the Italian deli on Jan Smuts Avenue in Craighall, Johannesburg—called Maestro—is still running. I first discovered this deli about two and a half years ago while getting my car tyres changed and balanced at a very good small tyre centre on Jan Smuts Avenue. While waiting, I walked up the road in search of a cup of coffee and could hardly believe my luck when I saw this deli.
When I went inside, I was overjoyed by the array of delicious foods and confectionery on display. Maestro has excellent reviews on Google, with some people saying they always go there and will keep coming back. It was deeply pleasing to return.
What I find so compelling about the Italian-style deli, coffee shop, or bistro is the way it allows one to immerse oneself in an old, sophisticated Italian atmosphere. The aroma of Italian coffee delights the senses. The foodstuffs are fresh and expertly baked. The service is polite and friendly. This deli, in particular, feels like a sanctuary, and that is why I have titled this piece around the idea of exile.
Going there is a momentary exile from the hurly-burly, from the rush and noise of fast-food restaurants. It takes you back to a slower time. It reminds me of the outdoor restaurants I encountered in France and in Oman—families sitting together in the evenings in Oman, watching sport on television, relaxed, drinking coffee, and eating their meals unhurriedly.
At this time of the year, after all the jollity, it is wonderful to go there. It is wonderful to exile yourself, even if only for a short hour, and to find that kingdom—that peace within, that solitude, that internal flame that may waver but continues to burn inside you. I borrow these terms from Albert Camus. Some of you may remember his book of short stories, Exile and the Kingdom. In those stories, Camus depicts people who are in exile and how, in various ways, they come to find their kingdom.
In these times, we can still find spaces and places where we recover ourselves and feel good—especially with the aroma of Italian coffee, which reminds me of European cafés such as Café Wien, Café Paris, and Café Zürich, and of the eateries in Hillbrow that were once places to relax on a Sunday afternoon, newspapers from many capitals of the world spread out on the table, time finally slowing down.
We can walk on a beach, through a wetland, up a mountain, or across the veld, and these are all forms of solace. Yet there is something quite distinct about visiting a place like Maestro. It carries you back to an ancient civilisation, borne forward by the Italians, along with the ambience and atmosphere they seem able to recreate wherever they go in the world.
When you need a brief exile, it might be an Italian deli or bistro. Wherever you find your tranquillity and serenity, guard it. Keep it close for those moments during the year when you want to savour quiet time with yourself—and perhaps with a loved one.
