Coming soon really did mean coming soon, a first for Marburg. Sometime between 15 December and our return the second week of January Dunkin’ Donuts opened in Marburg’s Oberstadt. This is a big deal because donuts just aren’t very German, even though fresh-baked pastries and breads are pretty much the staple food group here.
I’ve always liked donuts, but I’ve been really liking donuts ever since the display window, covered in pink and orange cartoon donuts, was revealed back in December. I guess it was the fact that I’d found just one donut in the seven months I’ve been in Germany – a delicious cinnamon sugar donut from the baker at the Wednesday farmer’s market. After catching myself standing outside the door for the second time in two days, debating whether to go in alone right then or to wait for F, a donut date was needed ASAP.
F and I made the trip the next afternoon, braving the wind and icy rain. The shop is small with no seating except for a make-shift bench along the front window. It definitely isn’t pretending to be a cafe, not with all the fierce cafe competition in the Oberstadt. And for me, that’s fine. I don’t go to Dunkin Donuts for the ambiance and the atmosphere anyway; just give me the donuts and I’ll go. With an at-home donut date as the new plan, we left with half a dozen painted, powdered, sugared, and stuffed donuts. Each one of them was better than I had imagined – even the blueberry one – but we were both converts to the toasted coconut club.
As much as donuts scream America, it’s not what I thought of after I left, donuts in hand. Funny enough this tiny, standing-room-only store takes me back to Istanbul and the Dunkin’ Donuts stand on Boğaziçi’s North campus. To the courtyard full of sunlight and the neighborhood’s sun-bathing stray animals. Turkish classes have a built in smoke-break which is when everyone – teacher included – piles out onto the fire escape or into the sunny courtyard for their quick fix. My fix happened to be a medium coffee – always a medium coffee because it was the only size that the one-size-fits-all lids fit – and a typically-Turkish, hazelnut-filled donut. This was once a week every week.
As a self-diagnosed coffee addict, I want my coffee strong and I want it black – unless there’s something stronger than strong or blacker than black, in which case I want that. So if you’re someone that drinks excessive amounts of coffee you might as well do it in Turkey. Paying in liras, you really get your money’s worth. I’m pretty sure my week’s worth of coffee was always less than one Starbucks coffee back home.
The only problem with this plan: Turkish coffee meet Caitlin.
I met my match in this stuff. I just can’t like Turkish coffee. The tiny portion, the grittiness, the sludge-like consistency. Not my thing, which is sad because it’s strong and available (cheaply) in every single cafe/restaurant. It’s also a shame since the only other option available to you is a single-serving pouch of Nescafe instant coffee served to you with a cup of hot water. What am I a cowboy?!
Having this Dunkin’ Donuts and their cups of “normal” coffee pretty much saved me from excruciating headaches and falling asleep in class for the whole first half of the semester. At least until I invested in a french press, which made a coffee addiction in Turkey cheaper than cheap. So here’s to you Dunkin’ Donuts for your good coffee, sugary donuts, and great memories.
I write this as I polish off the last of the donuts. Also, one of the suggestions for related articles is 20 signs you might be addicted to coffee. Is it that obvious?