Frosthill: Cozy Cold and Overpriced Coffee (A Digital Nomad's Tale)
i’m sitting on a bench outside this tiny café in frozhill, nursing a $12 pour-over that’s probably stale by now. the air is crisper than i expected, like you left your fridge open for a week. 5.2 degrees and 90% humidity is doing a literal number on me, but i guess that’s the deal when you’re a digital nomad in a place that thinks ‘seasonal’ means ‘forever winter.’
the neighbors here are either skateboarding downhill on black ice or watching the same reality show loop on their phones. one time, a guy in a parka tried to sell me a thermos of tea for $5.30 and claimed it was ‘organic. i asked if it was from a real plant or just a fancy bag, and he just handed me the cup and said ‘trust the brew.’ trust? nah, i trusted my gut and froze in horror when i took a sip.
someone on tripadvisor mentioned that the best place to grab a sandwich is this spot called ‘the rusty spoon,’ but i heard from a local that it’s basically a food truck parked in a cemetery. yelp reviews say the burgers are ‘hectic,’ which is code for ‘they taste like regret but you’ll forget by tomorrow.’ i’m not sure which is the real review. there’s always a third option: asking the guy who plays acoustic guitar outside every night. he’s either a tourist or a ghost, but he once told me to ‘look for the blue umbrella’ and pointed me to a bakery that closes at 4 pm. i found them anyway, and the croissants were okay. probably.
i just checked and it’s…there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. the rain’s tapping like a morse code from the 90s, and the lagoon nearby is ice-slick. thecita’s yacht club is closed, i think, because the owner couldn’t handle the winter. or maybe he’s just a salty man who hates everything. who knows?
if you get bored, other cities are just a short drive away. not that you’d care. the roads here are a grid of potholes and existential dread. historic? maybe. walkable? only if you count sideways.
one weird thing: the graveyard where ‘the rusty spoon’ supposedly is has a sign that says ‘no photography.’ but there’s a drone flying overhead every Sunday, so whatever. local lore says the cemetery was built by monks who revolutionized the art of napping. someone told me that last night while I was buying overpriced hot chocolate. they also warned me about a guy who lives in the woods and ‘collects’ old sunglasses. i haven’t seen him, but i keep my shades in my bag now.
for maps, check out ♥ Frozhill Maps ♥ Local Eats Yelp ♥ The Rusty Spoon Lie
i’m probably going to freeze to death writing this. at least my keyboard is working. if you’re reading this, thank goodness. if not, congrats on surviving the chaos.
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