07.31.08
Blah blah blah CAMBRIDGE!
When not contemplating dogs, new notebooks, or cheeseburgers, my mind launches into frenzied dreams about next summer, when I (at last!) cross the Atlantic again to spend a solid month in England (and hopefully a week in Ireland!).
I’ll take Art and Humanities at Cambridge University. I think that merits the use of an emoticon.
=]
I’m going to completely clean out my life savings and return absolutely penniless, probably in a good bit of debt, but hopefully it’ll all be worth it.
I really don’t shut up about this trip. It’s a study abroad thing… Since I first found out I’m going (all the Teaching Fellows at UNC Asheville do it), I’ve harbored a big, giddy colony of monarch butterflies in my tummy.
Seriously.
Whenever my life runs amok, I stop, inhale deeply, and in a dramatic internal stage whisper utter:
“CAMBRIDGE!!!”
and immediately my spirits soar.
Ah, it just soothes me to know I’ll be on the wrong side of the road again with a bellyful of little McDonald’s cheeseburgers!
07.08.08
I just had…
one of the best McDonald’s burgers, ever. Sometimes they just taste great, not at all mediocre or cheap, not the embodiment of all America’s flaws. This particular Big ‘n Tasty lived up to its name. Adjectives like “juicy,” “hot,” “fresh,” and “altogether fantastic” also popped into my brain as I shoved this thing down my throat in the parking lot a few minutes ago.
I owe my health and happiness to a variety of international Mickie Dees’. I grew up an Army Brat in Germany, and traveled all around Western Europe in a ‘94 Toyota pickup. Without the cheap and satisfying delights of little cheeseburgers and fries, my family would likely have starved in the process.
I’ve eaten at McDonald’s in: Germany, France, Italy, Switzerland, Belgium, Lichtenstein, England, Scotland, possibly Luxembourg, Austria, and the Czech Republic.
Not to say authentic European food invariably stinks — some of it’s quite good, albeit seriously overrated. An eight-year-old’s tastebuds resist fine French dining, which usually involves something unrecognizable swimming in gravy. And you can only eat so much schnitzel and kraut. Italy involved the fewest frenzied runs to McDonald’s… But the bulk of foreign food is weird (and generally quite pricey) to a young Army family with children.
Europeans do have bakeries, however. Fresh bread and pastries just don’t exist in the States the way they do over there. And they have a seemingly limitless supply of fresh Nutella (a German-made hazelnut-chocolate spread, and no, you haven’t had it if you bought the jar west of the Prime Meridian, it’s just not the same, I don’t care what you say) and other decadent sweets.
I plan to spend my next trip across the Atlantic bouncing between McDonald’s and bakeries, regardless of what happens to my waistline. I miss Berliners (jelly-or-Nutella-filled donut-like sweets) and REAL croissants and Jakob’s coffee and oh, I could keep going.
And okay, I miss real bratwursts and Doner Kabobs and gyros and spaetzle. (I’ve tried all these here, and it’s just not the same.)
But I still have McDonald’s — the solitary edible link to my childhood rambles that I can find in North Carolina, and it’s glorious. Unlike many of my contemporaries, I’m never too snobby, health-conscious, or politically disinclined to chow down at McDonald’s. It’s a, er, vital cultural experience, linking us to fellow Big Mac eaters worldwide, yeah.
