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.
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| 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.
