When You Just Need a Coffee

I cried in my Beijing hotel room on one of the early days of the trip.  An accumulation of stressors contributed to the breakdown: Jetlag, pure exhaustion, sensory and social overload, queasiness from soup-thick smog, the challenge of finding any vegetarian food at all.  But mostly, it was coffee withdrawal.  

With coffee, I could have handled everything else.  Without coffee, I didn’t feel equipped to face another day.

It was 2001, and I was part of a small group of media professionals visiting Beijing, Shanghai, Xiamen and Hong Kong to meet with government officials and speak at universities about online journalism practices, technology and regulation.  We’d work for several days in a row, with breaks for guided outings to places like the Forbidden City, the Great Wall and the countryside.  It was a rare and eye-opening experience in many ways. 

It was also grueling and stressful.  The summer heat and humidity combined with the heavy air pollution exacerbated my motion sickness on the long and bumpy van rides to our destinations.  There were a lot of rules of etiquette to remember. I’d forgotten to bring business cards, which apparently was a grave faux pas which required much scrambling to remedy.  It was impossible to guess whether our content was permeating the language barrier. 

Despite our wonderful interpreter’s best efforts, most restaurants had no concept of a vegetarian meal, so I was served many dishes of vegetables soaked in meat broth.  I felt like a conspicuous, spoiled American. I ate rice and lost at least 15 pounds.  In hindsight perhaps I should have eaten the meat and accepted the moral and digestive repercussions rather than inconveniencing so many gracious people.  

There was tea, tea, tea everywhere - but not a single cup of coffee for days.

When I sighted a Starbucks en route to a tour of the Forbidden City, it was like a mirage.  I can’t defend the collateral damage of globalization or the marring of historical architecture and monuments by fast food restaurants.  But in that moment my joy was pure.  Soon afterward, I found packets of instant Nescafe in a small market, which carried me through the rest of my time in China and onward to Hong Kong where coffee was more available.

(We were on the flight to Hong Kong when the first plane hit the World Trade Center on September 11.  It would feel odd to not mention this event which changed everything, but that’s a different kind of story and belongs to people who were more directly affected than me.)  

I’ve gone on countless coffee quests in the 20+ years since the China trip.  I haven’t had another emotional breakdown but I’ve probably come close.  Many times I’ve found myself in an unfamiliar city or country, genuinely appreciating the local culture and cuisine - but also drained and yearning for an extra-hot soy latte or a Pike Place.

I feel a twinge of shame when I seek out a Starbucks in these situations, but not enough to override the magnetic pull.  I even buy a souvenir mug from time to time.  Collecting Starbucks mugs is a cliche worthy of the ridicule it receives, but I do it anyway.  What can I say, we contain multitudes.

Besides, I like opening my cupboard on a weekend morning to be reminded of all those adventures.  I even bought a Starbucks mug in Paris this spring.  You can say it’s a travesty to pass up a charming parisian cafe for a Starbucks, and you would not be wrong.  Still, I think it’s adorable and reminds me of the gorgeous morning I spent walking the city listening to audiobooks and soaking in the city’s architecture and history.

I still hate tea.