Vacation memories...
After school my friend Petra and I met for coffee at Starbucks. The moment I walked in I was slapped with a memory of my last day in Paris. The dark aroma of fresh coffee beans, the happy African music booming from the corner speakers. Then there are those scary couch people who furtively peer over their paperbacks to steal a looksie at the newbies. But that's subject matter for a completely different post.
Anyway, there's only one Starbucks in Paris. Reason: the French are notorious for their chic cafés that serve deliciously strong coffee--the kind of java that can put hair on your...well, you get the picture. Also, the French aren't too keen on foreign competition, especially when it challenges a cherished aspect of their culture. It makes sense. Can you imagine Monday Night Football being replaced by the European World Cup of Soccer? Oh, the horror!
So my friends and I (in Paris) trudged up and down Les Boulevards searching for this one Starbucks that we had all seen at some point or another (most likely whizzing past the window as we sped by in a Renault with croissant crumbs on our lap).
Unsuccessful, but nowhere near giving up, we finally decided to ask a passerby. The French gentleman very politefully gave us the wrong directions, after which he mumbled amicably, "Typical Americans." Which I thought was funny because there were three of us, and I was the only American--the other two were Swedes (Esbjorn and -type Swedish girl's name in here-).
Alas, we found it. I was impressed: it looked just like all the other Starbucks, except of course (in typical Parisian fashion) it had two levels--bathrooms downstairs. We found ourselves a nice couch by the window (sans paperbacks, thankyou very much) and proceeded to pretend we were philosophical gurus, jobless, discussing the plights of humankind. Ahhh vacations.
Yeah, so that was the memory I had today at Starbucks. Sometimes I feel like two different people. There's the me on vacation, doing things that only really rich people can do every day; and then there's the me that lives in the real world, doing things that only a poor college student can afford. Funny that the one constant in this equation happens to be a freakin' Starbucks!
Anyway, there's only one Starbucks in Paris. Reason: the French are notorious for their chic cafés that serve deliciously strong coffee--the kind of java that can put hair on your...well, you get the picture. Also, the French aren't too keen on foreign competition, especially when it challenges a cherished aspect of their culture. It makes sense. Can you imagine Monday Night Football being replaced by the European World Cup of Soccer? Oh, the horror!
So my friends and I (in Paris) trudged up and down Les Boulevards searching for this one Starbucks that we had all seen at some point or another (most likely whizzing past the window as we sped by in a Renault with croissant crumbs on our lap).
Unsuccessful, but nowhere near giving up, we finally decided to ask a passerby. The French gentleman very politefully gave us the wrong directions, after which he mumbled amicably, "Typical Americans." Which I thought was funny because there were three of us, and I was the only American--the other two were Swedes (Esbjorn and -type Swedish girl's name in here-).
Alas, we found it. I was impressed: it looked just like all the other Starbucks, except of course (in typical Parisian fashion) it had two levels--bathrooms downstairs. We found ourselves a nice couch by the window (sans paperbacks, thankyou very much) and proceeded to pretend we were philosophical gurus, jobless, discussing the plights of humankind. Ahhh vacations.
Yeah, so that was the memory I had today at Starbucks. Sometimes I feel like two different people. There's the me on vacation, doing things that only really rich people can do every day; and then there's the me that lives in the real world, doing things that only a poor college student can afford. Funny that the one constant in this equation happens to be a freakin' Starbucks!
posted by Grant-Will-Rant at
7:09 PM
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