by Isabel Ortiz:
(Isabel is a sophomore in Jonathan Edwards College and is spending her summer in Buenos Aires.)
Every city has its own definition of chaos. My trip from Davis, California to Buenos Aires, Argentina began in the San Francisco airport, where my plane was taken over by the Royal Danish Ballet Company, swarms of svelte dancers clearly identifiable by their perfect posture, tight buns, and rapid Dutch. Later, a days long delay in Washington D.C. due to a dangerous ash cloud following a volcanic explosion in Chile pulled me into the current of the obligatory D.C. tourism blitz, from the National Gallery (where I serendipitously found myself standing in front of Dancers on a Plane by Jasper Johns, a fitting tribute to my hectic San Francisco flight), to the Air and Space Museum, culminating in a frenzied quest to find Dorothy’s ruby slippers in the Smithsonian.
I’ve been coming to Buenos Aires to visit family since I was little, and upon arrival I am always struck by the immediate change in pulse, the particular brand of chaos unique to this city. Though the streets may be just as crowded and the cars may speed just as fast as those of American cities, the beauty of this city’s chaos lies in its careful control, no better exhibited than in the cultural phenomenon of the cafe. The daily “cafecito” has long been respected not only as a tradition, but as a basic human right. These oases pepper every sprawling city block, and a peek inside may even reveal the exotic sight of a business-attired woman on her lunch break, sitting at a table for one with a book in hand, slowly enjoying her coffee, a salad, and a dessert. Unlike the U.S. cramming-a-sandwich-in-your-mouth model, the Buenos Aires coffee break is sacred, and cafes do much to dictate a change in pace to create a city much more civilized, more human than its crowded streets and honking horns would indicate.
One of the things I’ve noticed this year compared to others, however, has been the disturbing introduction of Starbucks, a possible threat to this careful equilibrium. The opening of the first Starbucks a few years ago seemed more of a novelty, a place for tourists to go for that one day when they just couldn’t live without their skim soy vanilla latte. This year I’ve been startled to see the successful expansion of the Starbucks Corporation (28 Starbucks now in Argentina), with lines snaking out the doors and Buenos Aires locales brimming with customers. Though the concept of fast coffee is hardly a new one (Latin American companies like Aroma and Café Martinez have successfully imitated the Starbucks model over the last decade), the taboo of the paper cup has nevertheless remained intact, and the question “para comer aca?” (for here?) has always been asked quickly and unyieldingly, as if daring you to ask for it to-go. The sudden triumph of Starbucks remains a startling testament to globalization as a threat not only to countries’ economies, but to their unique rhythms, creating an atmosphere of uncontrolled production and portability that could upend the carefully controlled chaos of the Buenos Aires state of mind.
