The Dark Side

So...today I crossed over onto the dark side. No, I didn't give away the secret hideabouts of James and Lily Potter. I didn't decide to join forces with Dark Vader. I didn't even start watching Brody Jenner's new reality show, "Bromance" (although I have to admit, I am quite tempted). No, this is far worse than that. 

I bought a Starbuck's today.

I couldn't help it. All this talk about food commonly found in the U.S. just put me in a gringa consumption state of mind. I don't even like Starbuck's all that much. My quasi-hippie upbringing (hummus, carrots, and whole wheat bread were only a fraction of said child-rearing) implanted in my mind that I should do my best to support local businesses. Oh yes, my parents were "those people." So instead of going to the 5 Starbuck's that were in our hometown, we frequented my dad's regular coffee hangout place, "The Plantation" (which, I am aware of, is an unfortunately sensitive subject-esque name). We sacrificed generic deliciousness for that thing called "ethics." Not to say that I was perfect and totally abided by this philosophy (in fact, I probably got a B- at best in this endeavor). To be honest, our family excelled in staying away from the coffee monopoly, but not so much in other chains. Let's just say that we liked "Gold Medal Ribbon" ice cream way too much to stay away from Baskin-Robbins. Nonetheless, my family encouraged me and my sister to do what we could to support smaller businesses. 

Of course, that came with a price (both figuratively and literally). For example, at The Plantation, the coffee beans were almost always burned, the service mediocre at best: One of the owners,and a family friend as well, Young, would take constant cigarette breaks, so half the time, there would be no one inside to ring you up and make you your coffee. The times he was there, he would take FOREVER to make the coffee because he was such an OCD perfectionist that everything had to be measured out just exactly right. You would think such motivation toward perfection would make the product better, but I am almost convinced that it made it worse. Being at The Plantation also meant forced interactions with my dad's weird friends, which was a bag of fun and a half. Also, the food here didn't always sit completely well with my stomach. Let's just say the warmth I felt in my heart for supporting small business owners did nothing to quell the occasional stomachache I got from going here. So basically, moral of the story that my parents slickly pushed down my throat: Starbucks = evil, The Plantation = shitty (coffee) but good (ethics). 

Fast forward to today: Mon, April 6, 2009, Metro Pedro de Valdivia, Santiago, Chile. It was a hot day. I woke up early to get to the EAP Study Center so I could turn in my internship application form on time. Afterwards I had to do a bunch of random errands downtown, including the impossible errand of getting "cartón piedra blanca" (black cardboard paper) so I could properly make a pinhole camera, which all of the librerias were supposed to have, but, of course, did not. I just got out of my 3rd libreria ("Lo siento, no lo tenemos"), when I saw IT. A building with the logo of a lady with wack hair. Shining ever so brightly on the corner. I wasn't even craving coffee. I don't even like it all that much. But I went in because: a) I was tired as hell and b) It was something that reminded me of home.

How pathetic is that, right? That this omnipresent, hegemonic, monopolistic, [insert other obnoxiously big word that makes me sound like a hypocritically outraged liberal] corporation was something that warmed my heart and made me want to tap my shoes three times and say, "There's no place like home?" 

My higher brain functioning shut down. I barely spent a second thinking about it before I noticed my feet moving rapidly towards the Starbuck's door. I opened up the door, Demetri Martin "underestimating the power within me to open doors" style, and without even a breath, I blurted out in Spanish, "I would like a tall mocha frappucino, please." I coughed up my money, and within 3 minutes, I had the manifestation of sweet, chocolatey capitalism in my hands. 

I'm not going to lie, it was amazing. Oh, don't get me wrong, the frappucino wasn't all that great. In fact, I almost choked on a small piece of chocolate that was not completely blended into the drink (karma sucks). But it was amazing because somehow, someway, somewhere, it comforted me. It reminded me of California, and all of the memories I've had in that sweet little state. 

So you know what, I hopped over onto "the dark side" for un ratito (a little bit). To ease my conscience by engaging in a little cognitive dissonance (can you tell I'm a psychology freak?), I noticed there were very few people in Starbuck's (3 at best), so I told myself that maybe Starbuck's was a "small, struggling business" here and that I was supporting just that in Chile. I know, it's complete bullshit, but at least I won't feel as bad when I go to sleep at night. 

Salud a Starbuck's. For being the temporary solution to  capricious, quasi-homesick moments.