The Language:
The minute off the plane from Europe to the USA my mother tongue licks me, engulfs me, swallows me whole, saturating my every thought, leaving me no space to think. The signs, the radio, the conversations, the people passing by, the newspapers, the magazines, the billboards, the loud speakers, waves of communication roar over me like an incoming tidal wave.
It feels odd having everyone understanding me: I do not need to repeat. I hear words that I have not used in my daily vocabulary in months. I do not need to speak slowly. I catch myself saying; Merci, Pardon, Ou? I feel like a fish out of water in my own land.
The Food:
Chocolate Cinnamon Spice Chai, with roasted strawberries drizzled with balsamic over steel cut oats mixed with Pumpkin seeds granola.
Dense chocolate fudge cream enrobed with a burnt salted chocolate glaze served with marscapone ice cream.
Red wine soaked roasted pears laced with glazed walnuts, pomegranates seeds, on a bed of lettuce with a honey Gorgonzola dressing.
Food descriptions read like novels. Food is everywhere, anywhere, large quantities, why cook? Drinks the same size of small lakes inside a glass….ice cold.
Chocolate peanut butter ice cream sandwich served between chocolate fudge brownie cake drizzled with an caramel peanut butter cream.
Reality… I am a cultured shock chicklet in the land of plenty.
Leave a Reply