There was a post online about the prices of Starbucks coffee blends, from ₱125 for the cheapest to ₱205 for the priciest. A resident said they are actually quite affordable, even cheaper than some of our homegrown coffee brands.
That says a lot. A brand often seen as a costly foreign indulgence turns out to be less expensive than cafés owned by Palaweños. It shows the irony that a global chain like Starbucks could undercut local businesses that have long served our community.
Of course, it is not that simple. Bringing their blends here will add costs. Everything still has to be flown in from their commissaries in Manila, so those numbers might change.
I first heard of Starbucks not from a cup but from a friend. Tess left for the United States in 1991 and worked as a multi-branch store manager for the coffee chain. In our rare email exchanges and occasional ICQ chats, she told me about her job, making sure each store met company standards in operations, sales, service, and performance.
I have not heard from Tess in years, but I think of her whenever I pass by a Starbucks or walk in for a caramel macchiato.
Back then, Starbucks existed here only in stories. It was a picture of city life, distant from our slow mornings made with instant coffee. Now, that picture is about to become real. Starbucks is opening its first store in Puerto Princesa City.
For many, it feels like the city has finally caught up with the rest of the world. For me, the excitement comes with a question: what happens to the local cafés that kept us awake long before the global giant arrived?
Local coffee had loyal customers even before news of Starbucks broke. People from all walks of life have gathered for years at Itoy’s Coffee Haus on Rizal Avenue. Gold Cup Specialty Coffee followed, offering cozy spaces for people looking for a caffeine fix. Since then, more cafés have opened, serving unique blends that became especially popular among young people.
Starbucks will bring what it always brings: strong branding, consistency, and a sense of belonging to something global. But what happens to the smaller cafés that cannot compete at that scale? Will those who once spent hours at Itoy’s or Gold Cup trade those corners for a familiar cup and an international logo?
Maybe it will not drive them out. But it will test them. Some might close. Others will adapt, focusing on what makes them different, such as beans from Brooke’s Point or Bataraza and the personal touch no global chain can replicate.
The challenge is not just about price or place. It is about meaning. In a world where coffee is now part of lifestyle and identity, can Puerto Princesa’s small cafés hold on to the idea that coffee is still about community?
The question is not whether Starbucks will replace local cafés (hindi rin pagiging social climber ba yon?), but whether we will let it. The small shops that fuel our mornings deserve to stay because they remind us that our choices reflect who we are.
In the end, the most unforgettable cups of coffee are not tied to any brand, but to the stories we share while having them.
