The Most Elusive Starbucks Ever

I spent most of today in the city with one sole purpose: to find me a Starbucks. Not because I have a coffee addiction (ew, still think it's disgusting. Moving to the other side of the world will never change my mind on that), but because I've heard that Starbucks is a great place to go to meet the foreigners.

So I set off late this morning, paperback in my purse, plenty of time on my hands, totally prepared to spend a good 2-3 hours sitting, reading, drinking hot chocolate and making new foreign friends.

I honestly didn't really think it would be that hard. Think about it, in Canada you'd know if there was a Starbucks within a 5 block radius because you're bound to see people clutching their overpriced, extravagantly-named coffees the same way children hold their safety blankets. If not, at the very least you'll see Starbucks garbage strewn about the streets or near the garbage cans.

So I spent about 3 hours searching for the stupid place, and those stupid people with their stupid security blankets* before I finally gave up and decided to just aimlessly wander around the city.

It was while I was on the 7th floor of a department store that I noticed a Starbucks cup wedged in the garbage can. It was so pretty. I wanted to cry. That one little beacon of hope that was extinguished earlier suddenly started beaming again. Choir chorus: hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

I ran (not really) outside to figure out my next plan of action and in the process got lost in a scooter parking lot (it's not as easy as it sounds, ok?) and thus barely even noticed the foreigner! Once I reclaimed my surroundings, I decided that my next plan would be to catch up to the foreigner and make him be my friend.

I seriously stalked the guy for 4 blocks, through the underground path, through scooter parking lots, crossing streets, shoving little children and beggars out of my way and I was this close to catching up to him before I got hit by a car.

Ok, not really. The car was actually so close I'm pretty sure my jeans were touching the bumper though.

So in this distraction I lost him. Never to see him again. Except in my dreams.

I then proceeded to buy all this candy to help me wallow in self pity:

Not really, that's for my students for the Christmas celebrations.

I spent an hour and half trying to hail a cab to get me home though. It's unfortunate, my foreignness is a serious repellent. No one would pick me up because they didn't want to have to deal with the risk of having to communicate with a person who possibly doesn't speak Chinese.

It was really awful, I went around to coffee shops (not Starbucks, obviously) to get the waitresses to talk on my mobile with teachers from my school who told them how to get me home. And the waitresses had to hail the cab for me while I stood back so the driver wouldn't be scared off by my foreignness, and yet it still took an hour and a half.

I'm sure, some day - when I get my sense of humour back - I'll laugh at all of this, and think it makes a great story. But until then, I'm gonna start to physically make myself look Chinese.

* I mean no offense to the coffee drinkers of the world.