Memories with a cup of coffee

I love Starbucks.  Friends and acquaintances give me a rough time of it, citing a litany of predictable reasons of high prices, snobbery, politics, and corporations. But I enjoy it.  One benefit of a world wide company is the consistency it offers.  Right now, I’m sitting in a Starbucks in Philadelphia, sipping my blissfully sweet, hot caramel latte.  The slogan on the door advertises “Take comfort in rituals.”  And that’s exactly what I’m doing.  Starbucks as become part of my ritual. 

The first time I was in a Starbucks?  Beirut, Lebanon.  I didn’t even drink coffee at that point, but November in Beirut was rainy and wet and I warmed up each night with a hot chocolate from Starbucks.  It made for a great supper with a cheese filled crepe from a street vender. 

My second regular encounter with Starbucks?  Airports.  London, Frankfurt, Los Angeles, Johannesburg, Seattle, Chicago, and Bangkok…You name it, and it was Starbucks. 

I moved onto Colorado for a training program.  On the way to church on cold mornings, guess where my friends and I stopped?  Yep, Starbucks.  Caramel Apple Cider, nice and hot.  It warmed me up and woke me up.

Next location I lived: Beijing.  By this point I drank some coffee, but also lots of green tea and hot chai.  I was in China, after all. 

After a month back at my childhood home in Africa, far away from any coffee shops offering free Wi-Fi, my sister met me at baggage claim at Dulles with a hot caramel latte.  I have a very good sister. 

Now I live in London.  I read once that when you stand on Oxford Street in Central London, there are 155 Starbucks coffee shops within 5 miles of you.  155.  (No, I have not been to them all!)  My friends in London know that if we meet for coffee, I will likely suggest a Starbucks.  It might be on Portobello Road, Notting Hill, Oxford Street, High Street Kensington, or West Hampstead, but it still offers my sweet Caramel Latte.

I’ve also had Starbucks in the Louvre in Paris, ordered it as Esperanza in Madrid, and if I ever it make to my dream cities of Prague, Istanbul, and Venice, then yes, I’ll probably stop at a Starbucks at least once.  

I enjoy the small little coffee shops as well.  I patronize them quite frequently due to my constant chill in cold English winters or damp English springs.   But that doesn’t stop from me from enjoying Starbucks.  I live my life with my family on three continents, my friends on six continents, my belongings mostly packed away in storage, and my memories are very dear to me.  Stepping into a Starbucks in Philadelphia can remind me of those rainy nights on Hamra Street in Beirut or Thanksgiving in Madrid.  I feel at home when I sit down with my laptop, journal, or book.  Those memories are precious to me.  Perhaps I enjoy them as much as the coffee I sip.  But regardless, I’m at Starbucks.