Golden Arches
Fellow American teachers.
By bike, then bus, then subway, it took forty-five minutes to get to the McDonald’s near Tiananmen Square. It was easily twice the size of the largest McDonald’s I’d seen in America, maybe larger: two floors, ten cashiers, swimming in people.
I’d brought Davy to discuss hiring him to tutor me in Chinese. Glassy-eyed before the glowing menu behind the cashier’s heads, he asked, “What do I order?” This was a bit odd considering the Chinese-only menu, with pictures. I explained the different choices, then told him the authentic McDonald’s experience was a burger. We each ordered a quarter pounder.
Nowhere could we find two seats together. We kept circling with our trays, fries cooling as we watched customers trying to eat with their hands without exactly eating with their hands, fingertips only. Some were using fork and knife on their burgers.
Eventually we settled on two seats side by side, across the table from two strangers. It felt weird, but this was China, Land of Crowds.
“What’s this?” Davy asked, holding up a packet.
“Oh, that’s ketchup,” I answered. “See?” I pointed at the Chinese label; his expression indicated it was no help. Hmm … how to explain ketchup? “It’s a paste made from tomatoes,” I said, parroting what I’d always heard yet frowning at the realization that ketchup didn’t really taste like tomatoes. “But it’s salty, or tangy or something.” I gave up.
“What do you do with it?”
“Put in on your burger.”
That’s when the trouble of our side-by-side seating became clear: Davy couldn’t watch me. I glanced over and caught him squirting ketchup on top of his top bun. When he noticed me eating he sensed something was wrong – then solved the dilemma by eating top bun first, like a piece of toast with jelly. This left the burger proper, which he ate with thumbs on the bottom bun, fingertips on the beef.
I didn’t laugh; his mistake was my fault for not recognizing my own cultural assumptions. Besides, at how many Chinese meals had I embarrassed myself with ridiculous mistakes, all graciously excused by my hosts? The amount of native how-to knowledge we absorb without effort is astounding. Davy’s topless burger made me wonder how badly I was blundering through China without even realizing it.
As we left I was afraid McDonald’s had been a bust, but Davy said, “I like this food better than Pizza Hut. I like especially the potatoes.”
“The fries.”
“Yes, I like especially the potatoes fries.”
Street with multiple lanes for bicycle and car traffic (marked by different colored barriers).
Menu board.
Placemat.
Pizza Hut placemat.
