Chronicle (Part 1)

Story (based on one day in a café):

In this place there are a few tables, all possessing a wood grain that is similar to a cedar tree. Silver poles hoist the tables. My laptop, a spectacle, is silver. Merchandise idles atop the shelves behind the register. My phenomenology now is one of the effects of caffeine pulsing through my nervous system. Backpack man leaves.  I ask for a double coffee. It comes. And I drink the whole thing within a two-minute period. Double coffee means double-espresso, to you people from America (like me). Here in Argentina, they don’t brew regular coffee at cafés, but rather, they brew espresso and call it coffee. This is not treason, but it’s something you have to get used to. When you order a coffee at a café, thus, you will be ordering espresso, not the regular coffee you’re used to brewing at home. That is, unless you’re lucky enough to find a Starbucks down here, at which they have all the regular drinks they normally have (save the really expensive, custom-designed Frappuccinos). I actually don’t know if they brew regular coffee at the Starbucks I’ve been to down here or not. It’s up to you to try that out. Try ordering a coffee at a Starbucks and see what they give you. My best guess is that they’d give you espresso. Isn’t that funny? Yes, it’s a cultural thing, I believe. I believe that the espresso they give you here is slightly less concentrated than the espresso I’m used to in the States, as well. This is because, well, I’m not in the position to speculate. But my conjecture is that this place may even be more coffee-friendly than the States. Yes, I said it. Also, coffee here is more of a social ritual, whereas in the States, on occasion it becomes social, the imbibing of coffee. Coffee in the United States is seen as a necessity for a good day. At least that’s the case for me.

Reflection (about a trip I took recently):

I am on an excursion to a glacier. On occasion the glacier deposits some of itself into the water, occurring with a loud crash, much like a cymbal being whacked in an open auditorium. This glacier has a name, but I forget it. There are steel-reinforced pathways so that you can traipse around near the glacier and observe it like a scientist would. Though I’m sure a scientist would get closer. We observe like this for many minutes. We ask an intelligent-looking tourist to take our photo (we wouldn’t give the camera to just any old sucker). This glacier is cracked, superhuman looking, with blue shapes and white crests. It looks infinitely more complex than I would have imagined. Glaciers, in reality, tell a story of millions of years, perhaps more. That is the object I see over there near the water. The contrast with the water is immense. The water is blue and then the glacier stands up above the water. The glacier doesn’t want to be near the water. Perhaps someday it will wash away.