Recently, I have been considering how my perspective is so fundamentally changed on certain things, just by virtue of a change in location. Now, the snarkist in me will of course pipe up with the observation that this is all a change in perspective is. But that is beside the point, and that part of me is an insufferable ass.
Take Starbucks, for example.
In the States, I always felt slightly oppressed by Starbucks. They were everywhere, they all charged money for wifi, their environments were uniformly bland and sterile, and their coffee was -- more often than not -- just plain bad. This isn't referring to their cream-sugar-ice-coffee concoctions, which are probably just as tasty as the combination might suggest, but their plain black iced coffee, which is what I always drank. It was consistently bitter, sour, and served with way too much ice along with a bad attitude, as if I was being marginalized for not purchasing a double-caramel-pumpkin-chocolate-macchiato with an extra shot of some hideous candy syrup.
So I tended to avoid Starbucks, heading for the usual hipster hangouts and smaller chains, where the coffee was cheaper and arguably higher quality, and the atmosphere was friendlier.
Here in China, though, the situation is reversed. Starbucks is the single store I know where I can consistently get fast free wifi and a good cheap cup of coffee.
Yes, the iced coffee is still bitter and sour, but it's actually iced coffee, rather than the normal hot coffee poured over a couple ice cubes, resulting in a cup of warm coffee-flavored water.
Yes, the environment is bland and sterile, but here I don't have intermittent high pressure fronts of cigarette smoke drifting into my airspace from nearby tables, or sweaty waitresses hovering over me while I consider which of their overpriced drinks to buy.
At one notable joint, I ranged through half of their coffee menu, being told with each order that that particular drink was not available. When I finally asked what they did have available, I was helpfully informed that their coffee machine was, in fact, broken.
In a fit of unbridled optimism, they suggested I order tea.
This is the suggestion of someone who has absolutely misunderstood the nature of caffeine addiction.
I replied that, while I appreciated their enterprising nature, someone looking for a cheap cup of coffee would be hard pressed to order a 50RMB pot of tea. In despair, I finally ordered a Coke, which arrived in a warm can, and on leaving I was charged 15RMB… a fair price for a quick lunch (for example, a bbq pork set meal from the neighborhood Cantonese restaurant), but a far cry from the normal 4-5RMB price for a can of soda.
So. The only consistent factor in these shops is inconsistency. Thus, whereas the green medusa or mermaid or whatever it is of Starbucks in the States is a figure of cold, unbending corporate conformity, here it shines like a welcome beacon of reliability.
The fact that I can fill up my thermos with iced coffee for 13RMB (15, minus 2 for having my own cup -- something Chinese places aren't starting to do yet) doesn't hurt either. Normally a cup of coffee anywhere starts at 20, since they all tend to just make espresso even if you just want plain brew/drip.
And before I start sounding like an overly picky hobo with a slightly nicer version of a tin cup, let me just say it's not only about price.
This was confirmed a few days ago, when I discovered a Carl's Jr. in Shanghai by way of a giant ad placed on the elevators servicing my gym. I spent about 45 minutes on the elliptical with that goddamn Famous Star drifting in and out of my eyeline. Afterwards I showered, changed, and after a few minutes of internal debate, blew half a red bill (100/2 = 50RMB) on a Double-western Bacon Cheeseburger combo.
Oh... and go ahead and super size that, too.
The point, obviously, wasn't the price ( 50RMB is about how much I typically spend on food in 3 days ) or the food -- though the faint nausea I felt upon seeing the burger didn't stop me from eating it -- but the momentary sense of familiarity. In a surprising departure from the normal Chinese business model, Carl's Jr. even has the familiarly enormous paper buckets that masquerade as beverage cups, and a self-serve drinks fountain. They even have a little salsa bar with pickled banana peppers and salsa fresca.
In fact, it was almost like being at a Carl's Jr. in the U.S., except nobody there was openly weeping or picking at cold sores.
I think the fundamental reality is that I am, in fact… kinda homesick.
Not what I would normally call "homesick," really, but in a kind of low-level, almost unconscious sense of the word. I'm not depressed or forlorn, but put a little plastic tub of KFC mashed potatoes in front of me and there's a little rush of endorphins that might not have been triggered had I been offered a far superior Chinese meal.
And now, since my laptop battery's almost done and I may be off to some music pub in Xujiahui (徐家汇), it's random picture time.
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Friends Ellen and Roger; Ellen's been previously introduced, Roger is a fellow American here doing kind of similar work as I am, freelancing as a videographer. Also looking (or just got, I've forgotten which) teaching jobs. Also, how is it that my Nokia phone is better at exposing night pictures than my Casio digicam? Damn you, Hong Kong.
Jishnu, this one's for you… an entire store dedicated exclusively to selling frozen mochi. This is one of two display shelves with all kinds of flavors.
This sounds simultaneously like a delicious treat and an STD.
