Introduction and Origin

Some might call it a gift, others might call it a curse. I just call it my sixth sense. I seem to be able to find Starbucks cafes no matter where I go in the world. If Starbucks has a presence in the city, I will find them. Whether it’s the only coffee shop in the middle of the Parisian boonies, or a café lost amidst thousands of others in the capital of Bulgaria, I seem to be able to find them.

I like coffee. I enjoy the smell of it, the taste of it, the very act of drinking it. And maybe some people will give me a long schpeel about how Starbucks is not the best coffee in the world, how many other small cafes make much better coffee, how frou-frou drinks are not real coffee anyway. You know what? Shove it! I travel around the world constantly, I am on the road probably about half of my life, so excuse me if I like to spend time in a café that looks and tastes the same no matter where I go. Not to mention the fact that every time I step foot in a Starbucks café or stand, I feel an absolute sense of pride. Starbucks is from my home town, after all, and it doesn’t seem to matter which country I’m in, I always have to wait in line. Starbucks is busy, all day round, all world round. In reality, my habit of going to Starbucks is not so much about the coffee as it is about feeling at home. And I know from conversations with other dancers like us, it is the same for them.

My idea for the Starbucks Project came from a friend of mine. It was early – not for him, but for me – and we were driving together to a meeting. I didn’t have time that morning to make my usual cappuccino, and I wanted a latte. Not only that, but I had been pretty strict about my diet for about a week now, and I was seriously craving some eggnog. So, I informed him that we were going to stop by Starbucks. He didn’t complain. I knew exactly where I was going. I knew there was a Starbucks about two blocks away from where I was, and that I would only need to turn right to get into it. Even better, I knew this was a Starbucks Drive-Through. He didn’t know I knew this. When he saw the Starbucks, he quickly pointed and informed me, “Kora, there’s a Starbucks over there!” To which I coolly replied, “I know. Where do you think I’m going?” He only shook his head and laughed. “Oh that’s right,” he chuckled, “I forgot you have a homing device for them.”

That got me thinking: if I can manage to find Starbucks so often that my friend, who was visiting from California, says I’ve got a homing device, then maybe I am really gifted?? I’m just kidding. More likely, I just keep myself alerted to the sight of the Green Siren. But my idea of the Starbucks Project sprouted from that. If Simeon and I were to calculate how many hours abroad we spent in Starbucks cafes, it would probably match the number of hours we sleep; or even more impressive, the number of hours we dance in a day. I then started to think about all of the different places we’ve gone to Starbucks cafes abroad, and at home, and I realized that cataloguing our trips to Starbucks cafes is a great way to show our friends and family – and maybe even the company themselves – of the great diversity of places we have the fortune to travel to and see each year. So, we’ve started taking pictures of ourselves outside of every Starbucks café we visit. Only once, I think. You don’t need to see the same café more than once. And I’d like to post a picture of a local map of the area on each post, with a pinpointed dot of where the café is. That way, not only can we give everyone an idea of how much we travel, but we can also help others who are travelling and are craving a taste of home. Because, like I said, Starbucks is something familiar and warm, a sense of home no matter where I am in the world. A cappuccino in America is not the same as a cappuccino in England, which is not the same as a cappuccino in France or in Bulgaria. But a Starbucks Venti Quad-shot Skinny Vanilla Latte is always the same (except in Bulgaria, where the largest size for hot drinks is Grande; but I can handle that). In a world as chaotic as my own, that is a luxury of normality I am not willing to lose.