Guilty pleasures


In the urban landscape that materializes below my fifteenth floor window each morning, the first thing to emerge is always the familiar yellow glow of the McDonalds on Katipunan Avenue. Although I would never freely admit it, in addition to being slightly repulsed by this universal symbol of fast food, I find its presence somewhat comforting. Here in Manila, where I don’t speak the language, where I need help with the simplest of tasks, where I’m quite foreign in every way imaginable, it is a relief that the McChicken at least tastes nearly the same.

With a polite hello ma’am from the security guard, I step outside my building into the un-airconditioned outdoors. Now that I’ve been walking up and down these streets for the past few weeks, my skin no longer tingles with the uncomfortable sensation that people are staring at me.  There’s no doubt I still look rather different from my fellow pedestrians, but for the moment I’ve become just another person getting on with their daily business.

Roast pig at an office birthday party 
Of course it doesn’t end at the McDonalds. Walking down the block, skillfully dodging the motorized tricycles intent on running me over, an endless supply of guilty pleasures throws itself at me. Starbucks, KFC, Pizza Hut. It’s not that I approve of the abundance of Western chains spreading uncontrollably through the world like an introduced species, quite the contrary. I would much rather eat in a small local establishment than support a megacorporation in its greed. No doubt it won’t be long until I’m familiar enough with local cuisine to know where to go, what to order, what smells good, and what should be avoided. Luckily, in addition to Christmas festivities, there have been a significant number of office birthdays, opening up all kinds of opportunities for safe culinary exploration.  

That said, it’s difficult to resist my roots. Upon entering the Dunkin Donuts, as soon as I take my first sip of coffee, I’m flooded with good memories of visiting its New Hampshire counterpart over the years. The counters are orange and pink. The smell of sugar and chemicals fills the air. The little boy next to me sings sweetly along with the Aerosmith song on the radio. I could be anywhere in the world. 

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