China is insistent, even, or especially, in its inconsistencies. But these holes in the narrative of everyday life give you the opportunity to fill them in with whatever back-story you like.
If you like starting your day with a fresh cup of coffee, China might not be for you. But if you're like me, and what really gets you going is not caffeine but rather a piping hot paradox, then book a flight to Shanghai right away. Sitting in a sprawling two-floored coffee shop, I cannot help but admire the sleek, nostalgic décor: marble and wood floors, velour chairs of deep grey and brown, embroidered pillows and large plush peppers hanging from the maroon and gold walls. The lacquered ambience falters when I look up at the exposed pipes and vents overhead, yet the determined splash of the electric fountain and the soft Mandarin-pop ballad playing on loop seem to demand my calm like some horrible lullaby.
For those unused to normative relaxation, it can be difficult to feel at ease among so much stimulus. Here at Shanghai UBC Coffee, my cup runneth over. With everything except coffee. There are twice as many service people as customers, but it's been ten minutes since my attentive waitress diligently took my order (a cup of Blue Mountain Superior) and although she ran to deliver my order with an urgency usually reserved for medical emergencies, when she reached the young barrista (who was wearing a red tuxedo), I did not detect any activity or indication that my coffee was, in fact, being prepared. Maybe they went to grind beans out back, or maybe they sent someone to Blue Mountain to seek out a fresh batch. When I looked over to the waitress with sad, thirsty eyes, she smiled sympathetically but doesn't budge, shrugging slightly as if to say, "It's out of my hands."
While I wait, I imagine the barrista climbing Blue Mountain in his formalwear, wrestling tigers and riding pandas to reach a the craggy mountaintop. After climbing one thousand wooden steps, he reaches a jade temple situated on the foggy peak, and after slipping off his shoes, he gingerly walks down the echoing halls and reaches a shrunken old man with long wisps of white hair dangling purposefully from his miniscule frame. One can sense that he is as old as time itself. The young barrista kowtows, avoiding eye contact with this great sage. Grunting in approval, the old man bellows "Why have you come to the Great Monk of the Jade Temple atop the treacherous peak of Blue Mountain?" The barrista shakes, acknowledging the rarity of an audience with such a powerful individual. "Great Monk of Blue Mountain! I come to you from one of Jade Temple's noble subsidiaries, Shanghai UBC Coffee Ltd. A customer has ordered a cup of Blue Mountain Superior, but our storeroom has run out. I come to humbly ask that you, in your Infinite Wisdom and Compassion, prepare a cup for me to take back." The Great Monk listens earnestly, winding the long white hair that protrudes from a massive mole on his chin around his finger, until it is entirely covered, then lets all two yards of hair drop slowly into his lap. He repeats this gesture several times, and then finally speaks. "Rise, young barrista of the Red Tuxedo. Although it is against store policy for me to brew precious Blue Mountain Superior coffee on any day except a lunar eclipse, I will forego the proper ritual because you have shown tremendous courage in coming here. Your devotion to service is commendable, and so I shall do as you ask." The Great Monk extended his short arms in front of him and balled his right hand into a fist, opening his left palm beneath. Murmuring a secret chant under his ancient breath, the Great Monk's person became engulfed in a bright blue flame. The blue light filled the room with such intensity that the young barrista shielded his eyes, but even with his eyes closed he could feel the flame's hot, primal power. A loud whirring sound erupted from the Great Monk's fist, struggling occasionally like a coffee grinder encountering a particularly tough bean. Out of nowhere, a grey cup materialized in his palm to accept the boiling brown liquid trickling from his fist. As the blue light faded, the barrista looked up nervously. The Great Monk offered forth the coffee and smiled slightly. "The deed is done." The barrista began his effusive thanks, but the Monk interrupted, "There is no time, child! Now make haste, lest your parched customer think ill of Shanghai UBC Coffee Ltd., or its parent company Blue Mountain Jade Temple!" With the cup and saucer in hand, the barrista took his leave and raced down the mountain, spilling nary a drop of the mystical beverage. Rushing through the back door of his familiar workplace, he returned to the coffee bar and gingerly set it on the counter. As he hit the tin bell to announce the order's painstaking completion, a triumphant smile spread across his young face. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had proven himself to be a barrista worthy of his red tuxedo.
At least, I like to think that's why my coffee is cold.
