
In ‘Jaja's African Hair Braiding,' a day at the salon can be funny, invigorating, and a snapshot of immigrant life
Indeed, when 'Jaja's African Hair Braiding' premiered on Broadway in fall of 2023 to warm reviews and five Tony Award nominations, it felt resonant and timely. Now, with
Director Summer L. Williams at rehearsal.
Taylor Rossi Photography
'We are watching people be left behind, abducted, and disappeared,' says Summer L. Williams, who's directing 'Jaja's' for SpeakEasy, alluding to the current administration's aim of 'mass deportation' and increased ICE raids without due process. 'It's totally changed how I've approached my thinking around the play and what I want it to do. The objective is still the same, but the intensity is shifted within me.'
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A follow-up to Bioh's
'Marie and Jaja have the same kind of conflict that any 18-year-old daughter has with their mother,' Bioh says. 'They want to live their own life and they feel either burdened by or trapped by their parent. There's always this kind of push-pull of who knows best.'
To write the two characters, she tapped into her dynamic with her own mother. 'I always felt like I knew better than she did and questioned a lot of her choices,' says Bioh, who's also worked as an actress both on and off Broadway.
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Among the other hair braiders are Bea (Crystin Gilmore), a gossipy Ghanaian queen bee in her 40s who is always stirring the pot, and Bea's friend Aminata (Kwezi Shongwe), a Senegalese woman who's fed up with her turbulent marriage and wayward husband. Miriam (Marahadoo Effeh), a quiet recent immigrant from Sierra Leone who's hoping to bring over her young son, unfurls a dramatic story about leaving her lazy husband after she had a passionate affair. And Ndidi (Catia), a young firecracker from Nigeria, is the fastest and most in-demand hair braider, which raises Bea's ire. Along for the ride are a vibrant array of clients and several men who pop into the store to hawk their wares.
Bioh's plays are known for toggling seamlessly between uproarious, gasp-inducing comedy, ebullient joy, and an undercurrent of pain, frustration, and pathos. The bellyaching humor, Bioh says, derives from the familiar human behavior that's unfolding onstage. 'We're laughing at the recognition of truth that we've all experienced, and sometimes that recognition is funny, sometimes it's heartbreaking, sometimes it's devastating or sad. That's always my center of gravity as a writer — to make sure that I'm always leaning into the truth, because that's where the comedy lives.'
As the audience enters the world of Jaja's African Hair Braiding Shop on a hot summer morning in Harlem, Williams says she hopes 'to create a space where it feels like the rest of the world falls away. You're fully present and consumed by what's happening in the world of that shop.'
With braiders
fashioning
the various hairstyles — from jumbo box braids and long micro braids to cornrows and an eye-popping Beyoncé-inspired look — the audience glimpses these hair maestros hard at work, and the cast has been doing regular tutorials to learn the craft themselves. '[The braiders] 'do something incredible for another woman, and it's magical,' Williams says. The customers, she adds, become 'fully transformed, get up out of the chair, and leave different, new, refreshed, excited.'
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In crafting her play, Bioh wanted to highlight the diversity of stories within immigrant communities and to push back against the xenophobic narratives and negative stereotypes about immigrants fostered by certain politicians and media. 'I was just trying to humanize the people behind the policy, to humanize the immigrant story,' Bioh says. 'So that people who come to see the play, who maybe have their own implicit biases, could leave having even just the tiniest little blade of grass version of empathy for their stories and their community.'
Williams says that she's opening the production with what she calls a 'grand gesture' and teases the possibility of an 'even grander gesture at the end of the show that could be absolutely devastating.'
'Do we need that devastation to make sure that this is firmly cemented in everyone's hearts and minds, so that they have to go and do something to prevent what's happening?' she says.
The play's ending will leave audiences with 'basically a choice between feeling joy or pain, and the way those choices manifest, it's either hopeful or it's truthful,' Williams says.
To survive this fraught era, Bioh says that community and solidarity are key, something she discovered when her older brother passed away unexpectedly a few weeks before rehearsals started for 'Jaja's' on Broadway. 'I was still very deep in grief dealing with the loss of my brother, and the way my community and everybody really jumped in to circle around and be there for me was powerful,' Bioh says.
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'At the end of the day, these women are like a chosen family. Many of them have found themselves in a new place that they're trying to make home. So regardless of whatever happened during the day, all of the nonsense, any fights and ill feelings, all of that goes out of the door when a member of this sisterhood, this community needs help — when you know you need to step up and be in service to someone in this family.'
JAJA'S AFRICAN HAIR BRAIDING
By Jocelyn Bioh, presented by SpeakEasy Stage Company. At Calderwood Pavilion at Boston Center for the Arts, May 2-31. Tickets from $25. 617-933-8600,
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CNN
7 hours ago
- CNN
Why Americans can't chill out about ice-free European beverages
It's a sticky, boiling hot day in Paris, London, Rome, Athens or any other heatwave-stricken European destination. You flop down in a cafe after a morning spent on your feet. You order a refreshing cold drink. The beverage arrives and it's lukewarm. No ice cubes to be seen. You flag down the server and ask for the same again, this time with ice. It arrives with a solitary, sad-looking ice cube that melts before the first sip. 'So, I started saying, 'Oh, can I get extra ice?' And then they give just two ice cubes…' recalls New Yorker Isabel Tan, who has first-hand experience of Europe's froideur when it comes to adding frozen H20 to liquid refreshment. 'Eventually, I was like, 'Okay, let me just see what they'll do if I just ask for a bucket of ice…' So I asked that, half as a joke. But they brought out a small bucket of ice. I was in Italy, and it was really, really hot… So it kind of worked out.' Just as there are — at least broadly speaking — cultural differences in how some US folks and Europeans handle the tap water versus mineral water question, there's also a divide when it comes to the iciness of beverages. After Tan successfully ordered the ice bucket in Italy she jokingly posted about her experience on TikTok. Her video is part of a slew of memes, TikToks and Instagram Reels that have popped up in recent summers as Americans decamp to Europe and come face to face with resolutely room-temperature drinks. That social media trend is capturing, as historian Jonathan Rees puts it, a genuine, 'historically determined' cultural difference. 'The entire world does not have as much interest in ice as the United States does,' says Rees, the author of 'Refrigeration Nation: A History of Ice, Appliances, and Enterprise in America.' 'We are very much accustomed to having ice in just about everything. It's very much an American thing.' Another author, Amy Brady, whose book 'Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks – A Cool History of a Hot Commodity' contemplates the environmental consequences of populating so many aspects of life with frozen chunks of water, agrees. 'Americans are unique on the world stage in terms of our absolute obsession with ice,' she says. 'Americans are unique on the world stage in terms of our absolute obsession with ice.' Amy Brady, author of "Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks – A Cool History of a Hot Commodity' That rings true for Tan, who is originally from Singapore and grew up around different attitudes toward refrigeration. 'It's a cultural thing in the Asian culture to believe that drinking warm drinks is actually better for you,' she says. Years in New York converted Tan to the icy way of life. 'Even in my Stanley Cup right now, there are ice cubes,' she says, gesturing to the giant water bottle in her hand. 'I definitely prefer ice drinks. Even in the winter, I will drink an iced coffee… ice drinks year round.' UK-based Claire Dinhut has a different perspective: 'I personally really don't like ice, nor do I even like the taste of water,' she tells CNN Travel. Dinhut is half American, half French, but despite spending time in Los Angeles as a kid, she never got on board with the American love of ice. She's lived in Athens, Prague and now the UK, and is grateful that living in Europe means she avoids mounds of ice in drinks. Her preference? 'A good sorbet.' 'I find that ice dilutes the overall flavor of the beverage, falls on your face and spills your drink when you try to drink it, and is a good way for people to hide the actual amount of drink in a cup,' says Dinhut. The European verus US ice divide might have gained attention online in recent years, but it's not a new thing. Brady points to historic examples of 'people from around the world coming to America and being shocked.' 'I uncovered essays and letters from Charles Dickens, the famous 19th century English author, who came to America and was shocked and frankly disgusted by what he called the mounds of ice overflowing from American drinks,' recalls Brady. 'We were a spectacle to others because of our obsession with ice.' Rees says the American problem of sourcing ice on their travels goes back more than 100 years. 'People in the late 19th century, once they were hooked on ice, would ask Europeans for ice and be baffled when they couldn't get it.' So, just how did Americans become so ice-obsessed? Rees says the American love of ice can be traced back to Frederick Tudor, a businessman and entrepreneur in 19th century Boston who made such a fortune selling frozen water that he became known as the 'Ice King.' 'He, with a lot of help, came up with a way to cut ice off ponds and streams, packed it into ships and sent it all over the planet,' says Rees. 'He sent ice to India. He sent ice to the Caribbean. He sent ice to the American South. That is the beginning of the ice industry.' And even with all these ice exports, there was leftover ice lying around. 'Nobody knew what to do with it,' says Rees. 'So, Tudor began to give ice away to American taverns… They would put it in their drinks, and then people would sort of get hooked on having their drinks cold, and then they would come back and buy it from him later. And it worked fabulously well. He created a market. He became very rich.' Tudor was by no means 'the first person in the world to put ice in a cocktail,' Brady says – no one really knows who was – but people living in hot climates have always looked for ways to cool down. 'His innovation was to bring ice to people living in climates where ice didn't form naturally.' As the 19th century rolled into the 20th, ice was cemented as a status symbol in the US. 'Marketing campaigns talked about ice like they would talk about an automobile or a TV set,' says Brady. 'To own an icebox would be the way to signal to your neighbors that you have arrived, you know, as a middle-class American, who has kind of, quote, unquote, made it financially.' In Europe, ice never gained the same popularity — not in the 19th century and not today. Whereas Americans look upon ice with glee, generally speaking Europeans view ice as unnecessary, and even a little gross. 'I'll order iced drinks during the summer out of necessity,' says Dinhut. 'But I will chug the drink as to not actually let it get watered down and change the flavor.' Ice expert Rees explains that it's true that, 'when you put ice in your drink, it automatically dilutes it.' He says that when it comes to Americans and ice, 'it's as much about what Americans are used to as it is about taste. It's a little crazy. But Americans have loved ice for so long that we're willing to make that sacrifice. We're willing to pay extra in order to have our drinks diluted in particular ways.' As a quintessential US lover of ice, Rees waxes lyrical about 'the little crackling noise when you place it in there, the tinkle when the ice hits the side of the glass.' 'That makes me very happy for some reason,' he says. When Brit Lacey Buffery moved to the US five years ago she noticed the amount of ice 'right away.' At first, she found the icy pint glasses of tap water served in restaurants 'too cold.' But in time, she adapted. 'I've gotten used to and now really like a very cold drink,' she says. Her British partner, meanwhile, has remained steadfast in his anti-ice perspective. He'll specifically request no ice. 'That confuses servers as I don't think they see that regularly,' says Buffery. As she acclimated to life in the California, Buffery was also taken with US refrigerators — which are often twice the size of typical UK fridges — 'Americans have the largest refrigerators in the world,' confirms the ice historian Rees — and often come with an inbuilt ice dispenser. 'I have never had a fridge in the UK with an ice dispenser,' says Buffery. 'We would make squash in a jug as a kid and store it in the fridge for the summer. And we would obviously have an ice tray in the freezer, but you couldn't have much ice as it wasn't easily available.' On social media, Buffery points out free soda refills are commonplace in the US but rare in Europe, suggesting this also plays a part in the ice debate — 'We pay per drink in the UK, and who wants to keep paying for a ton of ice with a little soda?' Still, it intrigues Buffery to reflect on how much her habits have changed over her half decade in the US. She and her husband intend to move back to the UK soon, and when they do, Buffery says she will be hunting down a US-style fridge as soon as possible. Buffery's experiences suggest a lot of the ice-versus-no-ice debate is about what you're used to. While historically, northern European countries were cooler in summer than certain US states, the climate crisis has led to increased summer temperatures in cities like London and Paris. But ice can still be elusive. 'My understanding is to a certain extent it's easier to get ice than it used to be all over Europe, but it is still the exception rather than the rule,' says Rees. In many European destinations, there's no guarantee the establishment where you're dining or drinking will have ice. There isn't, as some TikToks have suggested, an ice shortage in Europe. It's just not the cultural norm. And whereas US hotels typically have ice machines in the corridor, and grocery stores sell giant bags of ice, this isn't generally commonplace outside of North America. 'One of the first things on a list that a host might send a party guest is 'who's bringing the ice?'' says ice historian Brady. 'That's very much an American thing.' Canadian Zoe McCormack — 'not American, but very much the same ice culture,' she says — lives in Paris. She tells CNN Travel she often struggles to track down ice in restaurants in the French city. She says she's less bothered by the iceless drinks in the winter months, but she still hates the lukewarm water, served in tiny 'shot glasses.' 'I don't really drink hot coffee, hot tea and stuff like that. So when they bring lukewarm water, I just find the taste weird,' she says. McCormack also suggests the lack of air conditioning in Europe plays a role — and the generally warmer fridges. When she buys a can of iced tea or soda that's been stored in a European grocery store chiller, 'the drink is not that cold.' When McCormack can, she reaches to the back of the shelf, searching, often in vain, for the coldest can she can find. 'The grocery store is not air conditioned, it's crazy, and you're reaching into the back to try and grab the drinks in the back, because those have probably been there the longest and are the coldest, and sometimes even those aren't that cold. And I'm like, 'Oh my gosh, I just need something refreshing.' But it's so hard to find.' If you're an American heading to Europe this summer getting anxious about ice — and possibly a lack of air conditioning and tap water too — rest assured that there are other ways of staying cool in the heat: gelato, sorbet and granita, to name a few. A jug of tinto de verano in Seville will be full of ice, while a glass of rose in Provence will be chilled to perfection. Plus, Europe isn't a monoculture. Every destination will be different. 'I gotta admit, I really like ice, but I understand when I'm traveling that I'm not going to be able to get it in every single place, and sometimes I'm not going to be able to get it at all,' says the historian Rees. He adds: 'But that's all right. I leave the United States specifically so that I can try other people's cuisines, which includes their drinks and they may not have ice in them.' Brady echoes this, suggesting viewing an iceless European beverage as simply a cultural difference, rather than a frustration, and taking it as opportunity for 'self-reflection.' 'Try to resist what might be an immediate reaction, which is, 'Oh, this tepid water, this tepid tea is less good or less clean, or less tasty, less delightful,'' she advises. 'That is a very American, specific perspective. And, putting that aside, also just experiencing how other people around the world develop their own culinary tastes and preferences will make life much more interesting… And it'll just keep you from being a jerk.'


CNN
8 hours ago
- CNN
Why Americans are obsessed with ice, but Europeans are just lukewarm
It's a sticky, boiling hot day in Paris, London, Rome, Athens or any other heatwave-stricken European destination. You flop down in a cafe after a morning spent on your feet. You order a refreshing cold drink. The beverage arrives and it's lukewarm. No ice cubes to be seen. You flag down the server and ask for the same again, this time with ice. It arrives with a solitary, sad-looking ice cube that melts before the first sip. 'So, I started saying, 'Oh, can I get extra ice?' And then they give just two ice cubes…' recalls New Yorker Isabel Tan, who has first-hand experience of Europe's froideur when it comes to adding frozen H20 to liquid refreshment. 'Eventually, I was like, 'Okay, let me just see what they'll do if I just ask for a bucket of ice…' So I asked that, half as a joke. But they brought out a small bucket of ice. I was in Italy, and it was really, really hot… So it kind of worked out.' Just as there are — at least broadly speaking — cultural differences in how some US folks and Europeans handle the tap water versus mineral water question, there's also a divide when it comes to the iciness of beverages. After Tan successfully ordered the ice bucket in Italy she jokingly posted about her experience on TikTok. Her video is part of a slew of memes, TikToks and Instagram Reels that have popped up in recent summers as Americans decamp to Europe and come face to face with resolutely room-temperature drinks. That social media trend is capturing, as historian Jonathan Rees puts it, a genuine, 'historically determined' cultural difference. 'The entire world does not have as much interest in ice as the United States does,' says Rees, the author of 'Refrigeration Nation: A History of Ice, Appliances, and Enterprise in America.' 'We are very much accustomed to having ice in just about everything. It's very much an American thing.' Another author, Amy Brady, whose book 'Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks – A Cool History of a Hot Commodity' contemplates the environmental consequences of populating so many aspects of life with frozen chunks of water, agrees. 'Americans are unique on the world stage in terms of our absolute obsession with ice,' she says. 'Americans are unique on the world stage in terms of our absolute obsession with ice.' Amy Brady, author of "Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks – A Cool History of a Hot Commodity' That rings true for Tan, who is originally from Singapore and grew up around different attitudes toward refrigeration. 'It's a cultural thing in the Asian culture to believe that drinking warm drinks is actually better for you,' she says. Years in New York converted Tan to the icy way of life. 'Even in my Stanley Cup right now, there are ice cubes,' she says, gesturing to the giant water bottle in her hand. 'I definitely prefer ice drinks. Even in the winter, I will drink an iced coffee… ice drinks year round.' UK-based Claire Dinhut has a different perspective: 'I personally really don't like ice, nor do I even like the taste of water,' she tells CNN Travel. Dinhut is half American, half French, but despite spending time in Los Angeles as a kid, she never got on board with the American love of ice. She's lived in Athens, Prague and now the UK, and is grateful that living in Europe means she avoids mounds of ice in drinks. Her preference? 'A good sorbet.' 'I find that ice dilutes the overall flavor of the beverage, falls on your face and spills your drink when you try to drink it, and is a good way for people to hide the actual amount of drink in a cup,' says Dinhut. The European verus US ice divide might have gained attention online in recent years, but it's not a new thing. Brady points to historic examples of 'people from around the world coming to America and being shocked.' 'I uncovered essays and letters from Charles Dickens, the famous 19th century English author, who came to America and was shocked and frankly disgusted by what he called the mounds of ice overflowing from American drinks,' recalls Brady. 'We were a spectacle to others because of our obsession with ice.' Rees says the American problem of sourcing ice on their travels goes back more than 100 years. 'People in the late 19th century, once they were hooked on ice, would ask Europeans for ice and be baffled when they couldn't get it.' So, just how did Americans become so ice-obsessed? Rees says the American love of ice can be traced back to Frederick Tudor, a businessman and entrepreneur in 19th century Boston who made such a fortune selling frozen water that he became known as the 'Ice King.' 'He, with a lot of help, came up with a way to cut ice off ponds and streams, packed it into ships and sent it all over the planet,' says Rees. 'He sent ice to India. He sent ice to the Caribbean. He sent ice to the American South. That is the beginning of the ice industry.' And even with all these ice exports, there was leftover ice lying around. 'Nobody knew what to do with it,' says Rees. 'So, Tudor began to give ice away to American taverns… They would put it in their drinks, and then people would sort of get hooked on having their drinks cold, and then they would come back and buy it from him later. And it worked fabulously well. He created a market. He became very rich.' Tudor was by no means 'the first person in the world to put ice in a cocktail,' Brady says – no one really knows who was – but people living in hot climates have always looked for ways to cool down. 'His innovation was to bring ice to people living in climates where ice didn't form naturally.' As the 19th century rolled into the 20th, ice was cemented as a status symbol in the US. 'Marketing campaigns talked about ice like they would talk about an automobile or a TV set,' says Brady. 'To own an icebox would be the way to signal to your neighbors that you have arrived, you know, as a middle-class American, who has kind of, quote, unquote, made it financially.' In Europe, ice never gained the same popularity — not in the 19th century and not today. Whereas Americans look upon ice with glee, generally speaking Europeans view ice as unnecessary, and even a little gross. 'I'll order iced drinks during the summer out of necessity,' says Dinhut. 'But I will chug the drink as to not actually let it get watered down and change the flavor.' Ice expert Rees explains that it's true that, 'when you put ice in your drink, it automatically dilutes it.' He says that when it comes to Americans and ice, 'it's as much about what Americans are used to as it is about taste. It's a little crazy. But Americans have loved ice for so long that we're willing to make that sacrifice. We're willing to pay extra in order to have our drinks diluted in particular ways.' As a quintessential US lover of ice, Rees waxes lyrical about 'the little crackling noise when you place it in there, the tinkle when the ice hits the side of the glass.' 'That makes me very happy for some reason,' he says. When Brit Lacey Buffery moved to the US five years ago she noticed the amount of ice 'right away.' At first, she found the icy pint glasses of tap water served in restaurants 'too cold.' But in time, she adapted. 'I've gotten used to and now really like a very cold drink,' she says. Her British partner, meanwhile, has remained steadfast in his anti-ice perspective. He'll specifically request no ice. 'That confuses servers as I don't think they see that regularly,' says Buffery. As she acclimated to life in the California, Buffery was also taken with US refrigerators — which are often twice the size of typical UK fridges — 'Americans have the largest refrigerators in the world,' confirms the ice historian Rees — and often come with an inbuilt ice dispenser. 'I have never had a fridge in the UK with an ice dispenser,' says Buffery. 'We would make squash in a jug as a kid and store it in the fridge for the summer. And we would obviously have an ice tray in the freezer, but you couldn't have much ice as it wasn't easily available.' On social media, Buffery points out free soda refills are commonplace in the US but rare in Europe, suggesting this also plays a part in the ice debate — 'We pay per drink in the UK, and who wants to keep paying for a ton of ice with a little soda?' Still, it intrigues Buffery to reflect on how much her habits have changed over her half decade in the US. She and her husband intend to move back to the UK soon, and when they do, Buffery says she will be hunting down a US-style fridge as soon as possible. Buffery's experiences suggest a lot of the ice-versus-no-ice debate is about what you're used to. While historically, northern European countries were cooler in summer than certain US states, the climate crisis has led to increased summer temperatures in cities like London and Paris. But ice can still be elusive. 'My understanding is to a certain extent it's easier to get ice than it used to be all over Europe, but it is still the exception rather than the rule,' says Rees. In many European destinations, there's no guarantee the establishment where you're dining or drinking will have ice. There isn't, as some TikToks have suggested, an ice shortage in Europe. It's just not the cultural norm. And whereas US hotels typically have ice machines in the corridor, and grocery stores sell giant bags of ice, this isn't generally commonplace outside of North America. 'One of the first things on a list that a host might send a party guest is 'who's bringing the ice?'' says ice historian Brady. 'That's very much an American thing.' Canadian Zoe McCormack — 'not American, but very much the same ice culture,' she says — lives in Paris. She tells CNN Travel she often struggles to track down ice in restaurants in the French city. She says she's less bothered by the iceless drinks in the winter months, but she still hates the lukewarm water, served in tiny 'shot glasses.' 'I don't really drink hot coffee, hot tea and stuff like that. So when they bring lukewarm water, I just find the taste weird,' she says. McCormack also suggests the lack of air conditioning in Europe plays a role — and the generally warmer fridges. When she buys a can of iced tea or soda that's been stored in a European grocery store chiller, 'the drink is not that cold.' When McCormack can, she reaches to the back of the shelf, searching, often in vain, for the coldest can she can find. 'The grocery store is not air conditioned, it's crazy, and you're reaching into the back to try and grab the drinks in the back, because those have probably been there the longest and are the coldest, and sometimes even those aren't that cold. And I'm like, 'Oh my gosh, I just need something refreshing.' But it's so hard to find.' If you're an American heading to Europe this summer getting anxious about ice — and possibly a lack of air conditioning and tap water too — rest assured that there are other ways of staying cool in the heat: gelato, sorbet and granita, to name a few. A jug of tinto de verano in Seville will be full of ice, while a glass of rose in Provence will be chilled to perfection. Plus, Europe isn't a monoculture. Every destination will be different. 'I gotta admit, I really like ice, but I understand when I'm traveling that I'm not going to be able to get it in every single place, and sometimes I'm not going to be able to get it at all,' says the historian Rees. He adds: 'But that's all right. I leave the United States specifically so that I can try other people's cuisines, which includes their drinks and they may not have ice in them.' Brady echoes this, suggesting viewing an iceless European beverage as simply a cultural difference, rather than a frustration, and taking it as opportunity for 'self-reflection.' 'Try to resist what might be an immediate reaction, which is, 'Oh, this tepid water, this tepid tea is less good or less clean, or less tasty, less delightful,'' she advises. 'That is a very American, specific perspective. And, putting that aside, also just experiencing how other people around the world develop their own culinary tastes and preferences will make life much more interesting… And it'll just keep you from being a jerk.'


CNN
8 hours ago
- CNN
Why Americans are obsessed with ice, but Europeans are just lukewarm
It's a sticky, boiling hot day in Paris, London, Rome, Athens or any other heatwave-stricken European destination. You flop down in a cafe after a morning spent on your feet. You order a refreshing cold drink. The beverage arrives and it's lukewarm. No ice cubes to be seen. You flag down the server and ask for the same again, this time with ice. It arrives with a solitary, sad-looking ice cube that melts before the first sip. 'So, I started saying, 'Oh, can I get extra ice?' And then they give just two ice cubes…' recalls New Yorker Isabel Tan, who has first-hand experience of Europe's froideur when it comes to adding frozen H20 to liquid refreshment. 'Eventually, I was like, 'Okay, let me just see what they'll do if I just ask for a bucket of ice…' So I asked that, half as a joke. But they brought out a small bucket of ice. I was in Italy, and it was really, really hot… So it kind of worked out.' Just as there are — at least broadly speaking — cultural differences in how some US folks and Europeans handle the tap water versus mineral water question, there's also a divide when it comes to the iciness of beverages. After Tan successfully ordered the ice bucket in Italy she jokingly posted about her experience on TikTok. Her video is part of a slew of memes, TikToks and Instagram Reels that have popped up in recent summers as Americans decamp to Europe and come face to face with resolutely room-temperature drinks. That social media trend is capturing, as historian Jonathan Rees puts it, a genuine, 'historically determined' cultural difference. 'The entire world does not have as much interest in ice as the United States does,' says Rees, the author of 'Refrigeration Nation: A History of Ice, Appliances, and Enterprise in America.' 'We are very much accustomed to having ice in just about everything. It's very much an American thing.' Another author, Amy Brady, whose book 'Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks – A Cool History of a Hot Commodity' contemplates the environmental consequences of populating so many aspects of life with frozen chunks of water, agrees. 'Americans are unique on the world stage in terms of our absolute obsession with ice,' she says. 'Americans are unique on the world stage in terms of our absolute obsession with ice.' Amy Brady, author of "Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks – A Cool History of a Hot Commodity' That rings true for Tan, who is originally from Singapore and grew up around different attitudes toward refrigeration. 'It's a cultural thing in the Asian culture to believe that drinking warm drinks is actually better for you,' she says. Years in New York converted Tan to the icy way of life. 'Even in my Stanley Cup right now, there are ice cubes,' she says, gesturing to the giant water bottle in her hand. 'I definitely prefer ice drinks. Even in the winter, I will drink an iced coffee… ice drinks year round.' UK-based Claire Dinhut has a different perspective: 'I personally really don't like ice, nor do I even like the taste of water,' she tells CNN Travel. Dinhut is half American, half French, but despite spending time in Los Angeles as a kid, she never got on board with the American love of ice. She's lived in Athens, Prague and now the UK, and is grateful that living in Europe means she avoids mounds of ice in drinks. Her preference? 'A good sorbet.' 'I find that ice dilutes the overall flavor of the beverage, falls on your face and spills your drink when you try to drink it, and is a good way for people to hide the actual amount of drink in a cup,' says Dinhut. The European verus US ice divide might have gained attention online in recent years, but it's not a new thing. Brady points to historic examples of 'people from around the world coming to America and being shocked.' 'I uncovered essays and letters from Charles Dickens, the famous 19th century English author, who came to America and was shocked and frankly disgusted by what he called the mounds of ice overflowing from American drinks,' recalls Brady. 'We were a spectacle to others because of our obsession with ice.' Rees says the American problem of sourcing ice on their travels goes back more than 100 years. 'People in the late 19th century, once they were hooked on ice, would ask Europeans for ice and be baffled when they couldn't get it.' So, just how did Americans become so ice-obsessed? Rees says the American love of ice can be traced back to Frederick Tudor, a businessman and entrepreneur in 19th century Boston who made such a fortune selling frozen water that he became known as the 'Ice King.' 'He, with a lot of help, came up with a way to cut ice off ponds and streams, packed it into ships and sent it all over the planet,' says Rees. 'He sent ice to India. He sent ice to the Caribbean. He sent ice to the American South. That is the beginning of the ice industry.' And even with all these ice exports, there was leftover ice lying around. 'Nobody knew what to do with it,' says Rees. 'So, Tudor began to give ice away to American taverns… They would put it in their drinks, and then people would sort of get hooked on having their drinks cold, and then they would come back and buy it from him later. And it worked fabulously well. He created a market. He became very rich.' Tudor was by no means 'the first person in the world to put ice in a cocktail,' Brady says – no one really knows who was – but people living in hot climates have always looked for ways to cool down. 'His innovation was to bring ice to people living in climates where ice didn't form naturally.' As the 19th century rolled into the 20th, ice was cemented as a status symbol in the US. 'Marketing campaigns talked about ice like they would talk about an automobile or a TV set,' says Brady. 'To own an icebox would be the way to signal to your neighbors that you have arrived, you know, as a middle-class American, who has kind of, quote, unquote, made it financially.' In Europe, ice never gained the same popularity — not in the 19th century and not today. Whereas Americans look upon ice with glee, generally speaking Europeans view ice as unnecessary, and even a little gross. 'I'll order iced drinks during the summer out of necessity,' says Dinhut. 'But I will chug the drink as to not actually let it get watered down and change the flavor.' Ice expert Rees explains that it's true that, 'when you put ice in your drink, it automatically dilutes it.' He says that when it comes to Americans and ice, 'it's as much about what Americans are used to as it is about taste. It's a little crazy. But Americans have loved ice for so long that we're willing to make that sacrifice. We're willing to pay extra in order to have our drinks diluted in particular ways.' As a quintessential US lover of ice, Rees waxes lyrical about 'the little crackling noise when you place it in there, the tinkle when the ice hits the side of the glass.' 'That makes me very happy for some reason,' he says. When Brit Lacey Buffery moved to the US five years ago she noticed the amount of ice 'right away.' At first, she found the icy pint glasses of tap water served in restaurants 'too cold.' But in time, she adapted. 'I've gotten used to and now really like a very cold drink,' she says. Her British partner, meanwhile, has remained steadfast in his anti-ice perspective. He'll specifically request no ice. 'That confuses servers as I don't think they see that regularly,' says Buffery. As she acclimated to life in the California, Buffery was also taken with US refrigerators — which are often twice the size of typical UK fridges — 'Americans have the largest refrigerators in the world,' confirms the ice historian Rees — and often come with an inbuilt ice dispenser. 'I have never had a fridge in the UK with an ice dispenser,' says Buffery. 'We would make squash in a jug as a kid and store it in the fridge for the summer. And we would obviously have an ice tray in the freezer, but you couldn't have much ice as it wasn't easily available.' On social media, Buffery points out free soda refills are commonplace in the US but rare in Europe, suggesting this also plays a part in the ice debate — 'We pay per drink in the UK, and who wants to keep paying for a ton of ice with a little soda?' Still, it intrigues Buffery to reflect on how much her habits have changed over her half decade in the US. She and her husband intend to move back to the UK soon, and when they do, Buffery says she will be hunting down a US-style fridge as soon as possible. Buffery's experiences suggest a lot of the ice-versus-no-ice debate is about what you're used to. While historically, northern European countries were cooler in summer than certain US states, the climate crisis has led to increased summer temperatures in cities like London and Paris. But ice can still be elusive. 'My understanding is to a certain extent it's easier to get ice than it used to be all over Europe, but it is still the exception rather than the rule,' says Rees. In many European destinations, there's no guarantee the establishment where you're dining or drinking will have ice. There isn't, as some TikToks have suggested, an ice shortage in Europe. It's just not the cultural norm. And whereas US hotels typically have ice machines in the corridor, and grocery stores sell giant bags of ice, this isn't generally commonplace outside of North America. 'One of the first things on a list that a host might send a party guest is 'who's bringing the ice?'' says ice historian Brady. 'That's very much an American thing.' Canadian Zoe McCormack — 'not American, but very much the same ice culture,' she says — lives in Paris. She tells CNN Travel she often struggles to track down ice in restaurants in the French city. She says she's less bothered by the iceless drinks in the winter months, but she still hates the lukewarm water, served in tiny 'shot glasses.' 'I don't really drink hot coffee, hot tea and stuff like that. So when they bring lukewarm water, I just find the taste weird,' she says. McCormack also suggests the lack of air conditioning in Europe plays a role — and the generally warmer fridges. When she buys a can of iced tea or soda that's been stored in a European grocery store chiller, 'the drink is not that cold.' When McCormack can, she reaches to the back of the shelf, searching, often in vain, for the coldest can she can find. 'The grocery store is not air conditioned, it's crazy, and you're reaching into the back to try and grab the drinks in the back, because those have probably been there the longest and are the coldest, and sometimes even those aren't that cold. And I'm like, 'Oh my gosh, I just need something refreshing.' But it's so hard to find.' If you're an American heading to Europe this summer getting anxious about ice — and possibly a lack of air conditioning and tap water too — rest assured that there are other ways of staying cool in the heat: gelato, sorbet and granita, to name a few. A jug of tinto de verano in Seville will be full of ice, while a glass of rose in Provence will be chilled to perfection. Plus, Europe isn't a monoculture. Every destination will be different. 'I gotta admit, I really like ice, but I understand when I'm traveling that I'm not going to be able to get it in every single place, and sometimes I'm not going to be able to get it at all,' says the historian Rees. He adds: 'But that's all right. I leave the United States specifically so that I can try other people's cuisines, which includes their drinks and they may not have ice in them.' Brady echoes this, suggesting viewing an iceless European beverage as simply a cultural difference, rather than a frustration, and taking it as opportunity for 'self-reflection.' 'Try to resist what might be an immediate reaction, which is, 'Oh, this tepid water, this tepid tea is less good or less clean, or less tasty, less delightful,'' she advises. 'That is a very American, specific perspective. And, putting that aside, also just experiencing how other people around the world develop their own culinary tastes and preferences will make life much more interesting… And it'll just keep you from being a jerk.'