Western Embrace

Last weekend I gave in to my “American urges” as one dear friend likes to say. It began Friday night. I had a terrible time trying to get across town to a girls meeting and ended up arriving an hour late (My thoughts on the bus—“Hmmm…did that say Yangtze River? Something’s not right. Where am I again? Ohhhh…I should have gotten off 3 stops ago. Niiiiccccce.”). Exhausted and hungry and mildly annoyed, Fawn and I walked a while after the meeting thinking about where to eat. Pizza hut was somebody’s suggestion and we both agreed. What a relief!

Pizza Huts in China are near to fine-dining experiences—well, compared to many on-the-street places. There’s mood music, hosts escort you to your seat, there are place settings, full menus, and dimmed lights. Sitting there with Fawn as we continued to get to know each other almost felt like a date—but probably just because, let’s face it, she’s my newest crush.

Later on that night we ended up at VOX, a ‘hangout’ where a lot of foreigners gather on weekends. It was an interesting mix of young teachers and students from China, Africa, Europe, Wisconsin…you name it. They play 5-year-outdated hip-hop and people can relax, meet each other, speak English etc…It was a fun escape for the night.

Then on Sunday, I continued the slide down the slippery slope of Western retreat. I went to a nearby bookstore and spent a few hours browsing their English selection, bought a Chinese copy of The Little Prince (makes me think of my big sister—and now I have it in English, French and Chinese!), searched in vain for the Chronicles of Narnia (they have some CS Lewis over here), and humored some students wanting to use me to practice their English.

While there, I met another man from Africa, who is teaching French at Wuhan University. We chatted for a few minutes, and after I asked him where he was from, he asked about me, “Where are you from?”
Me: “Where do you think?” (I wasn’t being coy—he made me guess earlier)
Him: “Hmm…I am not sure. Not the States, I know.”
Me: “Really? You don’t think so?”
Him: “No. Perhaps you are from Great Britain?”

The same thing happened to me countless times in France and now has followed me here. I promise, I do not try to come across as anything other than American. Respectful and culturally sensitive, yes…but still American. Maybe it is because I speak French to them and they assume that Americans are incapable of learning another language (thank you, Madame Burns!!!). My mom’s side of the family looks very European in their facial features, so maybe that has something to do with it. It’s probably just because my Southern accent is different from what they hear on TV. Anyway, it’s interesting.

It was upon leaving the bookstore that it happened. FULL immersion into all that is wrong from the West. I couldn’t help it—I walked out of the store exit and the Evil was right there, staring me in the face, illuminating my path, dazzling my eyes. Golden Arches.

Reader, I ate there.

After 3 weeks of mostly Chinese food, I didn’t just want those french fries—I desired them. It overpowered me. I hadn’t eaten all day and had a long bus ride to Fawn’s in front of me, so I ordered a chicken snack wrap, fries and a coke.

I don’t even eat McDonald’s in the US! It’s disgusting to me there. But the ease of a place that understands my order, that is more affordable and fast than Pizza Hut, and that tastes familiar and American is very appealing to me here.

What can I say—I guess I’m lovin it?