Blackie and the Bohemian Hookah Cafe
During my last Summer in Cincinnati, my friends and I spent a lot of time down in Clifton. It was the place to be, really. The University of Cincinnati was there, as well as some clubs and lounges, but the biggest draw for us was a small hookah bar called Bohemian Hookah Café.
The café was run by a short, skinny Jamaican man known only as Blackie (depicted to the left). Really, he was the café. If you came in, you were going to have a conversation with Blackie, and you were going to come back to talk to him again. His personality was simply magnetic, and he had some gems of wisdom that he wasn’t afraid to part with, if you could decipher his thick accent that is. A friend of mine put it best when he said “you come for the hookah and tea, but you stay for Blackie”.
Blackie’s consists of a wide, unobstructed room, lined with mirrors and strewn with couches and tables. The walls are adorned with pieces from local artists with tiny white price tags pasted next to them. A long counter laden with teas, sodas, and bottles of water bisects the lounge area from the back rooms and store rooms. At any given moment you can see a group of people talking and laughing and sipping their tea around a many-hosed hookah, enjoying the company and atmosphere Bohemian provides. Blackie doesn’t just put together hookahs and mix tea (although he is phenomenal at both), he creates a safe-haven for a culture that really didn’t have a spot to relax.
The customers at Bohemian are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They don’t march up to the counter and demand a new coal as theirs goes out. They don’t get upset if the hookah they ordered comes in the wrong flavor. They just, to borrow an overused phrase, go with the flow. I’ve seen the most extreme “hipsters” and the most “country” of bumpkins at Blackie’s but the atmosphere never shifts. It is always one of calm, relaxed fun.
As I said earlier, people gravitate towards Blackie, and this has allowed him to create an establishment whose patrons are fiercely loyal and always welcome. Unfortunately, Bohemian will probably not last much longer. Blackie suffers from a terrible case of, as he puts it, “itchy feet”. He’s had cafés all over, from New York to Denver to California to Ohio. Every few years he just packs up, and moves on to the next chapter in his well traveled life, leaving behind an empty store and customer base that was made to love him.
I have yet to find such a hookah bar anywhere I’ve looked. All are usually loud, overcrowded holes, populated by scary looking people and teens trying to look cool. The service is poor, in my experience, and you can’t just sit with your friends and have a normal conversation without being hassled by someone trying to give you their demo or get you to buy illicit materials off them. Blackie’s is clean, friendly, and relaxed, and I will certainly miss it when he inevitably moves on. But until then, I intend to visit Bohemian every time I go back home.
The café was run by a short, skinny Jamaican man known only as Blackie (depicted to the left). Really, he was the café. If you came in, you were going to have a conversation with Blackie, and you were going to come back to talk to him again. His personality was simply magnetic, and he had some gems of wisdom that he wasn’t afraid to part with, if you could decipher his thick accent that is. A friend of mine put it best when he said “you come for the hookah and tea, but you stay for Blackie”.
Blackie’s consists of a wide, unobstructed room, lined with mirrors and strewn with couches and tables. The walls are adorned with pieces from local artists with tiny white price tags pasted next to them. A long counter laden with teas, sodas, and bottles of water bisects the lounge area from the back rooms and store rooms. At any given moment you can see a group of people talking and laughing and sipping their tea around a many-hosed hookah, enjoying the company and atmosphere Bohemian provides. Blackie doesn’t just put together hookahs and mix tea (although he is phenomenal at both), he creates a safe-haven for a culture that really didn’t have a spot to relax.
The customers at Bohemian are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They don’t march up to the counter and demand a new coal as theirs goes out. They don’t get upset if the hookah they ordered comes in the wrong flavor. They just, to borrow an overused phrase, go with the flow. I’ve seen the most extreme “hipsters” and the most “country” of bumpkins at Blackie’s but the atmosphere never shifts. It is always one of calm, relaxed fun.
As I said earlier, people gravitate towards Blackie, and this has allowed him to create an establishment whose patrons are fiercely loyal and always welcome. Unfortunately, Bohemian will probably not last much longer. Blackie suffers from a terrible case of, as he puts it, “itchy feet”. He’s had cafés all over, from New York to Denver to California to Ohio. Every few years he just packs up, and moves on to the next chapter in his well traveled life, leaving behind an empty store and customer base that was made to love him.
I have yet to find such a hookah bar anywhere I’ve looked. All are usually loud, overcrowded holes, populated by scary looking people and teens trying to look cool. The service is poor, in my experience, and you can’t just sit with your friends and have a normal conversation without being hassled by someone trying to give you their demo or get you to buy illicit materials off them. Blackie’s is clean, friendly, and relaxed, and I will certainly miss it when he inevitably moves on. But until then, I intend to visit Bohemian every time I go back home.