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SeenThat
SeenThat
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5 out of 5
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Starbucks Buenos Aires

  • October 25, 2008
  • Rated 5 of 5 by SeenThat from Tel Aviv, Israel
Starbucks Buenos Aires


The Taxi Driver

The taxi driver was drilling a hole in my head. I was in the way from the Ezeiza Airport to downtown Buenos Aires after having taken three flights in a row and having missed a night’s sleep. Yet, he went on and on explaining how the Argentinean Spanish was different from other dialects, completely obtuse to the fact that despite my heavy accent, I was using Argentinean consonants and phrasing. After finishing his monologue on higher linguistics, he began speaking about the fat and grease on the local meat. On and on he went. "I’m vegetarian!" I wanted to shout.

"What’s new in town?" I asked when he stopped to breath for the first time since I boarded his car. Not paying attention to the fact I had just disclosed previous visits to the city and that, apparently, that meant his talk was superfluous, he said:

"There’s an American coffee shop. They have one branch and will soon open more."

He got my attention.

"What’s its name," I asked.

"Strrbooks," he said missing the first vowel, using the heavy–duty Spanish "rr" consonant and pronouncing the "u" the way it is done in Spanish.

"Starbucks," I corrected.

"Strrbooks," he repeated looking at me in such a way that I was afraid to ask where the branch was. I ducked down in my seat and contemplated a better than expected visit. He kept talking to himself.

The Concierge

"Where is Starbucks," I asked emphasizing my accent so that I wouldn’t be expected to mutilate the name.

"At the Shopping Alto Palermo," the surprised concierge said and added "Take the Subway "D" and leave it at Bulnes Station, the shopping mall is next to the exit."

The Trip

My hotel was next to a Subway "D" entrance. Within minutes I was outside the hotel trying to decide which train would take me to Palermo, to do that I found the name of the last station in the Palermo direction – "Congreso de Tucuman" was its name – and then followed the signs. Nobody could stop me now.

I bought a multiple entries ticket, and tried to find a place in the first train. Impossible. Crowds left it, but multitudes conquered it. I was left alone at the platform. Determined to perform better next time, I rushed into the following train before any passengers could leave it. They seemed surprised, but I held my place. Soon, we reached the Bulnes Station; I left the train and climbed out to the street level.

Shopping Alto Palermo was written above a big poster of Eve Taylor.

Palermo is one of the most exclusive area in Buenos Aires; Shopping Alto Palermo cater thus to the top echelons of this expensive city. Despite the temptation, I had a serious business to fulfill and skipped the shopping despite Starbucks being part of the mall. Simply, it offered access through two external gates. Seeing my determination, the guard next to one of them stepped aside; I opened it and all of the sudden could smell my target.

Starbucks´ Stars

The place looked sparkling new, and like any typical large branch of Starbucks. It was tastefully decorated and arranged on an almost flat space. New cups with an attractive design and bearing the company’s name and a "Buenos Aires" printing were for sale. Everything was fine, except for the toilets which were out of order despite the early hour of my visit. Why was I procrastinating? After all, I came for a coffee and not for a lesson in design. Again, it was the effect of the crowds.

The place was so crowded that obvious strangers were sharing tables; the line to the coffee took ten minutes. Part of the delay was due to the fact that employees worked in pairs, each trainee working next to a trainer, giving a clear hint to the fact that the second branch is about to open. Moreover, the menu included instructions how to ask for a coffee, and many customers read them before ordering. There was an air of adventure, natives seeing a plane for the first time.

"I want that carton," somebody said, referring to the sleeves used to hold the cups. There wasn’t yet a word in Argentinean Spanish for it.

Suddenly, I was facing a nice girl.

"aahaha………" she said to fast for me to understand.

"Do you want something to eat?" she repeated in a slower pace.

"No," I said and proceeded to order my coffee. The pastries menu was extensive, but these tend to be oversweet in Argentina, so I gave up.

I advanced to the end of the counter and waited for my turn. After a few minutes, I saw my Americano being prepared; it was easy to spot, since most of the locals opted for the beverages which were a novelty for them. Starbucks even introduced here a type of Frappuccino with "dulce de leche" ("milk jam," a typical local jam prepared with milk and sugar). All of the sudden, I was being addressed again by a different girl.

"prrraaa…" she said and I was lost again. How many coffees did each worker drink before beginning the shift? The hand that was soon to serve me a coffee trembled and they talked very fast; "at least five cups," I told myself.

Then, she spoke slower and I managed to understand "cortado." That means a coffee with a bit of milk, like an Italian macchiato. Why did she care about the milk in my coffee? Looking around at the customers counter, I saw there was no milk there; this issue was under the strict control of the staff. Not wanting to begin an interrogation regarding the types of milk offered, I said no, and got my coffee.

Exhausted from the three airplanes, the taxi driver, the pushy people in the train and the long line to the coffee, I picked up my Americano and turned around. Waiting for me was a couch, the crowds stepped aside and opened a path to let me reach it.

I had a Starbucks coffee in Buenos Aires.

From journal Buenos Aires without Steaks

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