It is a Tuesday night and Liao Hsin-yi (廖信意) has finished work as a barista at Louisa Coffee in eastern Taipei. He makes the crosstown trek to Book House Coffee (書屋咖啡), a space nestled inside a community center behind the popular Nanjichang Night Market (南機場夜市) in Zhongzheng District (中正).
Book House is not your regular coffee joint. During a visit last week, there was only one “customer” who had stumbled in looking for a place to work. Nobody serves him for about 30 minutes until Liao wanders in and makes a pot of drip coffee, offering him a small glass.
“We do not charge,” Liao says when the man attempts to pay.
Photo: Han Cheung, Taipei Times
That is because it is not a business, but a barista classroom for high school dropouts and troubled youth. Liao was one of its first students, and despite his full-time job, he visits when he can to help with the teaching.
In March, Liao and three others passed the British City and Guild barista certificate exam, a milestone for Book House after three years in operation.
COFFEE DREAMS
Photo: Han Cheung, Taipei Times
Liao, 19, says he skipped school for the first time in fifth grade. By his second year of high school, he had completely stopped attending, going through a string of temporary, manual labor jobs.
Liao did not even like coffee when he was brought here by social workers — he says he saw it as a drug because his father drank copious amounts each day — but gradually developed an interest and taste.
He says that coffee has made him less sociable because all his attention is fixed on making the perfect brew.
“It does not feel like work,” Liao says.
The certificate makes up for not having a high school diploma, and he can now work at places like Starbucks. He hopes to open his own coffee shop by the time he is 30.
There are many youth like Liao in this area of mostly low-income residents, single parent families and elderly living alone. Zhongqin Borough (忠勤) warden Fang Ho-sheng (方荷生), who grew up in the cramped Nanjichang Residences (南機場公寓), built the community center that houses the coffee classroom from a dilapidated former military residence.
“There are other places and organizations that teach kids how to make coffee, bake cakes, make souvenirs,” Fang says, “but they are focusing on the craft. What we are doing differently is that we are focusing on community.”
The center is open all day, with a kitchen serving and delivering discounted lunch and dinner, a library and a toy bank, and offers after-school classes for elementary and junior high students who need help with their studies or have parents who work late.
Fang receives government subsidies for certain items, but it is not enough to keep all the programs running. Most of the coffee equipment is funded through donations and other means — such as selling long-unclaimed items acquired from the MRT lost and found (Fang says there is a surprising number of Buddhist sculptures).
“I do what I do for one reason,” Fang says. “I see what is happening here.” He talks about youngsters beating up dogs and each other, 12-year-olds learning to steal scooters, teen prostitution — Fang says he has seen it all.
“I bring them here so they do not go and do bad things just because they have nothing,” he says.
BELONGING
Chen Chun-ju (陳君儒), 21, is lounging around the office, chatting with a social worker hours before his shift at a restaurant. He also received his certification in March, but has yet to find coffee-related work.
Chen did finish high school, but lacked the credits to receive a diploma due to poor grades. He extended his graduation twice, and eventually gave up.
Referred to Book House about two years ago, Chen says his family does not know about his barista training because he could not be bothered to tell them. But at the community center, he seems to feel at ease.
“This is a fun place,” he says. “I come here before work to shoot the breeze and kill time.”
Instructor Fang Yi-wei (方億偉) says this is the real purpose of the barista class: to foster a sense of belonging.
“Anyone can go on YouTube and look up a video on how to make coffee,” he says.
Fang Yi-wei says many of these students come from broken homes, and are considered delinquents by the community. Wherever they gather, residents steer clear of them.
Many were initially forced to join the program, but now they like to hang out at the community center with their friends, where they also have a chance to interact with people outside of their peer group.
“These students have been rejected by their community and have no place to go,” Fang Yi-wei says. “We need to provide these students what is lacking in their school and family life.”
And Fang is okay with the students if they get a bit rowdy.
“If you want them to come here, you have to create a space where they can feel at ease,” he says. “They might talk loudly, swear and horse around, but let’s be realistic — not a lot of people or places can accept that.”
In a few months, the community hopes to open a coffee shop nearby (mainly because the communal dining room is getting cramped). It will be a place where budding baristas can work and develop confidence — and Chen says he plans to be its first employee.
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