Pinkberry’s real name is Crackberry – it draws yuppies by the hordes. I’ve heard about this frozen yogurt cafe from New Yorkers, but while froyo is quite a common thing now, somehow Pinkberry is the queen of it all. I tried it out twice to figure out why people would pay a premium for something so ordinary.

Caveat though – I don’t make optimal food choices…often. It’s hard to predict which flavor go well together. For example, this experience showed me that chocolate is not a universal food-marriage partner, especially not pomegranate or kiwi. (Chocolate is very testy when it comes to fruit. Strawberries, maybe. Mango? No) Aside from my poor life choices, I was still wondering why anyone would pay 3 dollars for essentially yogurt you can buy in the store, and freeze yourself. It wasn’t particularly enjoyable anyways.

Another side note: Fran is an exception to my wonder since she takes advantage of unlimited froyo at Nandos. Law of diminishing returns says that you’re supposed to stop enjoying something when you’ve had too much of it, but Fran seems to never get tired of froyo. So it’s worth it. But Pinkberry is no Nandos, and no one is quite like Fran.

But as I turned to Pinkberry last night, I realised that the competition isn’t between ready-made and home-made froyo, but its between an unhealthy dessert and Pinkberry. Pinkberry is replacing that slice of 7-layer chocolate cake I shared with Rozi on Tuesday – the yoghurt is a healthier and marginally cheaper option. (And it’s the hotspot for girls to bring their unwitting boyfriends – lots of clingy couples, but one guy hit is head on the light fixture, ouch!)

This time, I left my friend order a small cup to share between us. Coconut with strawberries on top? Surprised, but that’s quite a good combination. (Coconuts always appear in my life unexpectedly.)

In other news…I walked into a glass wall. I blame it on Otis – the last time I ran into a solid object was when I was leading a tour and he joked that I’d run into a pole…