Sunday, January 09, 2005

Musings over a perfect cup of coffee

Yesterday I met my friend whom I had not met/talked to for almost a year. I asked her out for a coffee and talked almost like 2 hours over a cup of coffee ( yeah A cup of coffee . She was not the caffeine kinda person' ) in a place called the Barrista ( at T-nagar ) ( a more crazier version of Starbucks merged with a funky designer studio ) where the coffee is costly and the cake is three times costlier !

I remember meeting her first on chat ... and then took the relationship to the next level by calling her ... and then meeting her ... the talks were mostly intellectually stimatinig ... and probably I 'managed' to infuse a little of me personality into a willing victim ! Now Iam happy that I have helped her get a better vision on the intricacies of life on this planet.

And then ... when looking back at the coffee place , I could not but quote the line from "You've Got Mail " ...

"JOE: The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall! Decaf! Cappuccino! "

The only thing is they price it exorbitantly high just to make the cream of the society ( or atleast those who want to be ) come here, loaf their time in endless purposes and walk away in so called 'newly-gained-self respect' and feeling as if this was a coffee worth its price , where as down the other side of the road , you could get a much better coffee a tenth of its cost and you dont have to wait for it more than 40 seconds.

Definitely the people dont come here for the coffee .. the coffee comes to them ;-)

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"Florentino is so in love with Fermina that he eats gardenias and drinks cologne so that he can know her taste. He becomes drunk on the cologne, and his mother finds him the next morning, in a puddle of his vomit, in a cove of the bay where drowning victims are known to wash ashore" - Love in the time of Cholera