The Local Starbucks
I have kind of a love-hate relationship with Starbucks. I complain that their coffee is expensive and that they take over the market wherever they move in. I complain that you can't walk 10 minutes in the center of Madrid without running into another little piece of America with it's green awnings and its sugary drinks. I would hate to see any Spanish business lose out to their empire, especially when Spanish coffee is wonderful and cheap, and a staple of the way of life here. I guess I do not like the concept of Starbucks.
But still, I go.
In their favor, Starbucks has comfy chairs and lets you sit there as long as you want. For this, I love them--if not the whole chain, at least the one on Fuencarral at Bilbao, where I go every Wednesday night while a community group meets in my apartment. I have a favorite chair, in the corner by the window, and if I time my arrival just right (around 7:45 p.m.), it's almost always empty, waiting for me to curl up in its familiar arms with a book. In the past month, all in this same Starbucks, I have laughed out loud to no one in particular, cried and wiped the tears quickly so no one will see, and fallen asleep. Actually, I've fallen asleep a couple times. I'm comfortable there.
I knew I had become a regular at Starbucks yesterday. As I walked in, the girl behind the counter looks up and says "Oye, guapa! Hace tiempo que no te he visto! Que tal todo?" (Basically--hey, I've not seen you in a while! How's it going?) I smiled and chatted a few minutes before ordering.
It's a small thing, but stuff like this is huge to me. A Spanish girl, my age, completely unconnected to me except in the fact that I order coffee from her and chat with her some while she's cleaning on Wednesday nights, initiated friendly conversation with me. Not where are you from, are you studying here, or how long do you plan to stay in Spain? (the usual polite questions) Just a simple "Que tal todo?"
She remembered my name and wrote it on my cup without me telling her how to spell it.
I live here. This is my neighborhood.
Oddly enough, I had been considering going to Espresso Republic instead that night. It's right across the street, and the atmosphere is a little less laid back, but it's Spanish and doesn't feed the Starbucks empire. But I went to Starbucks because they know me, because they smile and say hi, not just politeness, but because they recognize me.
(cue the themesong from Cheers.....)
In a job and a country where I feel like what I need to learn is immeasurably vast in comparison with the bit that I've learned in these two years (y pico), where I seriously wonder if I'll ever really feel like I'll belong somewhere again, it's nice to be recognized. It's nice to hear a familiar voice say:
Oye, guapa! Hace tiempo que no te he visto! Que tal todo?
But still, I go.
In their favor, Starbucks has comfy chairs and lets you sit there as long as you want. For this, I love them--if not the whole chain, at least the one on Fuencarral at Bilbao, where I go every Wednesday night while a community group meets in my apartment. I have a favorite chair, in the corner by the window, and if I time my arrival just right (around 7:45 p.m.), it's almost always empty, waiting for me to curl up in its familiar arms with a book. In the past month, all in this same Starbucks, I have laughed out loud to no one in particular, cried and wiped the tears quickly so no one will see, and fallen asleep. Actually, I've fallen asleep a couple times. I'm comfortable there.
I knew I had become a regular at Starbucks yesterday. As I walked in, the girl behind the counter looks up and says "Oye, guapa! Hace tiempo que no te he visto! Que tal todo?" (Basically--hey, I've not seen you in a while! How's it going?) I smiled and chatted a few minutes before ordering.
It's a small thing, but stuff like this is huge to me. A Spanish girl, my age, completely unconnected to me except in the fact that I order coffee from her and chat with her some while she's cleaning on Wednesday nights, initiated friendly conversation with me. Not where are you from, are you studying here, or how long do you plan to stay in Spain? (the usual polite questions) Just a simple "Que tal todo?"
She remembered my name and wrote it on my cup without me telling her how to spell it.
I live here. This is my neighborhood.
Oddly enough, I had been considering going to Espresso Republic instead that night. It's right across the street, and the atmosphere is a little less laid back, but it's Spanish and doesn't feed the Starbucks empire. But I went to Starbucks because they know me, because they smile and say hi, not just politeness, but because they recognize me.
(cue the themesong from Cheers.....)
In a job and a country where I feel like what I need to learn is immeasurably vast in comparison with the bit that I've learned in these two years (y pico), where I seriously wonder if I'll ever really feel like I'll belong somewhere again, it's nice to be recognized. It's nice to hear a familiar voice say:
Oye, guapa! Hace tiempo que no te he visto! Que tal todo?
posted by kelly_w at 11:44 AM
3 Comments:
i go to starbucks a lot. even though i prefer a good locally owned coffee shops (one of my favorite in the world is in norfolk, va - busy place that sits across the street from an empty starbucks), i know that wherever i go i can usually find a starbucks and get my grande americano and it'll taste the same no matter if i'm in columbia, south carolina (there's one where i'm known by name there) or cheyenne, wyoming (left my phone at that one last year) or anywhere else.
Grande, sugar-free vanilla, non-fat, no whip, steamer...it's like melted ice cream heaven.
mmmm....i miss going to cow and coffee with you, heather. next time i'm in town and you're in at the same time we HAVE to get together. or better yet, come to madrid!!!!!
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