I'm drinking coffee. I'm looking for feelings.

In Beijing, I am most familiar with the coffee shop than Starbucks. At least on the East Side, Starbucks bloom everywhere, either next to a mall, in a big hotel, in the middle of an office block, or in a more fashionable residential area. In short, prosperous places, lively places, convenient transportation places, there must be Starbucks. Starbucks is the safest place to meet someone, and even a road-blind person like me has never missed a Starbucks appointment.

Starbucks in COFCO Plaza has been open for at least 10 years. Ten years ago, Beijing's petty bourgeoisie popular "not in the cafe, on the way to the cafe", this cafe probably at that time more in line with the petty bourgeoisie fun bar, every afternoon, the room is crowded with men and women petty bourgeoisie, everyone with laptops, find a secluded corner, sit for half a day. It is said that films and television works reflecting contemporary youth life were filmed here. Today, the decrepit cafe is still very popular, and the guests seem to be from all walks of life. One of my girlfriends even met a liar there.

I have a lot of friends who like coffee. There is a publishing house work, very fond of coffee, in case of headache and brain fever basically do not take medicine and drink coffee, it is said that very effective. Her house has the best coffee from all major coffee producing areas in the world, and is also equipped with professional coffee grinding and brewing tools. I drank it at her house and watched her fry the coffee beans first, filling the house with fragrance, then grind them by hand, then light the alcohol lamp to boil them, and drink only the second course. Once at three or four o 'clock in the afternoon to find her, a corridor smell of coffee, I saw colleagues are leisurely carrying cups in twos and threes, to her office to enjoy coffee.

In the opinion of an Italian friend, Starbucks coffee mixed with American standard formula is simply undrinkable. He only drinks his own espresso. The beans ground into powder and began to cook. It was such a small pot that I was embarrassed to drink coffee from only a sip of coffee served to me in a small cup, thinking of so many people waiting in the room.

In Beijing, my favorite cafe is Carving Time, owned by a Taiwanese film-lover. Time spent in the Carving Time Cafe is also like carving time. Xiangshan was garden-style, a little idyllic. Whether it was the lazy cat lying in the yard or the fragrance emitted by the mint leaves in the yard, it was definitely not the fragrance of coffee that was experienced in this cafe on a summer afternoon. The one opened at Xiaoyun Bridge was another style. Up and down the three-story building, unexpectedly full seats, shutters a little old, old posters a little yellow, foreigners are full of enthusiasm, this picture is easy to evoke the imagination of another era. There are also many guests who go alone. Sitting by the window, reading books, flipping through magazines, and then looking at the beautiful women passing by outside the window, a cup of coffee is so wonderful to spend an afternoon. (Wei Xiaoxia)