In my time in Peru so far, I have been to Starbucks three times. Once in Lima, I tried and enjoyed very much the lúcuma frappuccino and another time I got an iced coffee. While in Arequipa, I got a latte at Starbucks, and savored it while enjoying the wifi, soft chair and quiet very much. Each time, I felt kind of bad. Where else could I be having coffee? What else could I be drinking? What Peruvian experience should I be enjoying instead? Each time, I wondered if I was somehow missing out.
While in Arequipa, I stopped by a craft beer and coffee shop. It was cute. It was on the second floor of an restored building in the historic neighborhood of Arequipa and had a balcony, which looked out on the surrounding mountains and nearby church steeples. They even made their own chocolate. Everything was quite expensive and also smelled quite good. The place was hopping. At every table, I saw large backpacks shoved under chairs, and guidebooks and journals consulted with curiosity. At almost every table, people gabbed in English (I detected American, British and either Australian or Kiwi accents) or German. Without knowing for sure if the patrons were foreigners because I didn’t explicitly ask them, I got the impression that the café, despite its small business charm and locally sourced ingredients, was kept in business almost entirely by foreigners.
At the Starbucks, except for one couple speaking English, everyone spoke Spanish with their friends. Again, I didn’t ask people at Starbucks how they self identified, but based on their accents and pace of speech, they seemed likely they were locals. People seemed to be meeting there for work to review slides and spreadsheets, and teenagers seemed to be happily gossiping and enjoying the first weeks of their summer vacations. On the menu at Peruvian Starbucks, there are some items featuring fruits like lúcuma and chirimoya that I assume aren’t served at Starbucks outside the region, similar to how I have enjoyed green tea red bean drinks at Starbucks in Taiwan and Hong Kong, but not in San Francisco. Paradoxically, it seemed that the American chain in many ways provided a more Peruvian experience than the small cute shop in Arequipa. In terms of Peruvian people watching, Starbucks arguably provided a better glimpse into everyday Peruvian life. Like it or not, the prevalence of American chains around the world means that the brands many Americans would like to escape from are virtually inescapable and the part of everyday lives around the world. Hey, KFC doesn’t serve black beans in the US, but it sure does in Lima.
Hua Hsu, an English professor at Vassar and contributor to The New Yorker, wrote an article about a sort of authenticity of inauthentic americanized Chinese food, referring to a cookbook of inauthentic recipes as a “manifesto of immigrant belonging.” Although not true to traditional Chinese food per se, the dishes are true to an immigrant experience and processes of assimilation. In his article, Hsu by no means belittles the value of so-called authentic Chinese food; rather, he argues for the higher valuation of other enjoyable experiences, even if they don’t adhere to cultural standards established by others generations ago.
At the end of the day, I want to spend my year in Peru trying all sorts of different things and eating and drinking things I enjoy, authentic, or authentically inauthentic.