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Who’d ever thunk I’d be wetting my pants over signs announcing a new Starbucks?
In Chicago, I loathed their presence, from the smell of burnt beans to the cliché clientele they attracted. Ya know, metro-sexuals dressed head to toe in GAP attire, buying Sucker-accinnos to sip on the L-platform while waiting for the Red Line to bring them to their Michigan Avenue cubicle farm.
But in Kunming, it’s another story.
Starbucks is a sign of sanity, an oasis of normality in the land of odd.
Keep in mind how weird a day in a life in China is. Take for instance, my seven minute commute to work. Kunming International Academy is located in the middle of our gated community, the Hu Pan Zhi Meng Xiaoqu (Lakeside Dreams Residential Quarters).
First, I get honked at by the Bentley pulling out of the building with the live chickens on the balcony. Next, I pass an old Chinese man doing his exercise routine, which consists of walking backwards while clapping. Keep in mind, he’s wearing pajamas, double quilted, looking like the kid in the bunny outfit in A CHRISTMAS STORY.
On my right is a group of elderly women with oversized ginsu knives, doing some sort of Samurai-Ti-Chi exercise routine. Then I almost get hit by a delivery guy on his bike hauling a plasma screen TV. He swerves out of the way of a toddler that’s pinching a morning mini-loaf in the gutter.
That’s why I welcome Starbucks.
Then I hear about the all-time worse abuse of the 5-second rule. Ya know, eating something that’s dropped on the floor. Of course, it happens at Wal-mart. Not just any Wal-mart, but a Chinese Wal-mart, in the fish department.
A worker is sweeping the floor and spots two shrimp in the dustpan. She wipes them off then puts them back on the top of the display pile. Ewww! It brings a whole new meaning to a floor sample.
That’s why I welcome Starbucks.
In Chicago? I’d groan at the green circular sign. Here? I’ll sip it up.
I might not ever go inside, but just knowing this oasis of normality is not a mirage is comforting. It’s located at the last stop of the 112, kitty-cornered from the Golden Eagle (a Chinese version of Bloomingdale’s), about a five minute walk from Tao Yoga, my other oasis of normality.