So it's been a long while since I posted - I'm blaming the relocation blues which of course incorporate arguing with relocators, "What? I told you to ship it six weeks ago!" and filling out forms in triplicate "You need my blood group? For a train ticket?!"As you can imagine, I've been busy.
Now of course, I'm fairly settled.
In many ways you know exactly what to expect of the US - everything is 'drive thru', food portions are as big as your head and no-one understands more than half of what I say. Still, I had to laugh when I saw the sign for the drive thru bank. In my mind it is to the US what the drive thru liquor store/bottle shop/off licence is to Australia and is equally indicative of the nations psyche.
I have to say that I'm scared by the coffee here.
I kid you not, but a wonderful, intelligent friend I have here is mortified to admit that up until fairly recently, he believed that coffee beans came naturally in French Vanilla and Hazelnut varieties. That there might be a plantation or two, carefully selecting Vanillaesque coffee beans for Dunkin Donuts is an idea I find hilarious and terrifying! The very smell of French Vanilla Coffee 'brewing' brings bile to the back of my throat.
All of this presents me with a problem. Anyone who knows me will know that I am a vile evil bastard until I've imbibed my first caffeine fix in the morning. Where do I go to get it here?
Starbucks. I almost have a hard time typing it, let alone reading it back to myself!
Yet it's true. I know that they under-roast the beans, burn the coffee,allow you to bastardise it with whipped cream, syrups in forty different flavours, pumpkin spice or gingerbread and hilariously call the sizes Tall, Grande and Venti to convey some sort of European pedigree and yet every day I trudge in, headphones frying my one awake braincell and before I can even order it (they know my daily ritual now- I am MORTIFIED to admit) have scrawled my 'Double Latte with Whole Milk' order on the side of a tall (err small?) paper cup. And even if there were an alternative to this over propagating green goblin of the coffee world, it's too late: I am now officially addicted. I even have the card you put cash onto so I don't have to pay each day.
There is however, one saving grace: The Toasted Cream Cheese Bagel. Every morning I order the same thing - I really do think my brain is unable to think for itself at this time of the morning and I go into autopilot - toasted, warm, chewy and heavenly.
I want to say "If only the coffee was this good", but it's too late ,I have to admit, I can't get to 10.30 without it!
