We didn't go out seeking what we found. We stumbled upon it on our way to satisfy my latest craving - gong bao ji ding (US version is kung pao chicken with peanuts). Instead, casually riding along, and allowing ourselves to get a little lost on this most pleasant, balmy 30 degree, and sunshiny afternoon, we discovered it on the horizon, and it was calling to us...at least I now have my Fat Club Membership Card to prove we were there.
You try saying "no" to a stumbled-upon Fatburger while living in a foreign country. Call it divine intervention if you must, I prefer to call it a happy coincidence. Girl meets appetite meets cheeseburger --all for less than ten American dollars in Beijing. Did you know that when you place an order at a Fatburger the entire staff repeats your order out loud, in unison, to all the restaurant patrons? From this point forward, collectively, Z and I would like to be referred to as "Two Fats, Two Skinnies."
There is a rub though. Always something in Beijing to make you question your daily habits and new discoveries. Besides the obvious drawbacks to a life full of eating cheeseburgers every day, this particular Fatburger is located on the "Diplomatic Residence Compound" grounds. That's capital D, capital R, capital C. Do you know what the DRC feels like?
It feels like you have been plopped onto the grounds of a Disney theme park at night when everyone has gone to bed to dream their Mickey Mouse dreams. It's eerily out of sorts in Beijing; it's quiet, it's cut-off, it's as suburban as Beijing gets. But, I'm sure, with it's Western "isms" it's lovely place to live, though.
Weren't we, after all, allowing ourselves to indulge in the cheeseburger, French-fry, milkshake fantasy just steps from our beloved US Embassy, and with so many other Americans and Westerners? Forget Sanlitun, the High Street of shopping, clubs and bars. Fatburger Beijing is the place to be for the who's who of the West. There was the Englishman with his ascot, jaunty vest and tweed blazer, enjoying a distinguished cup of espresso he imported from the cafe next door. The French family and their three children running amok, pumping squirt after squirt of free flowing Heinz ketchup into tiny paper cups. The pimple faced American teenagers in from the cold, with only their single layer hoodies to protect them, skate boards in hand, donning their best Justin Bieber hair styles. The American IT businessmen in the corner booths, relaxing in their Saturday casual wear, allowing their waist bans to expand, tapping away at their laptops, hosting informal informational interviews with the latest crop of Beijing business newbies.
Where else in Beijing can you go to also satisfy your craving for blaring 80's pop music, while watching CNN, HBO and ESPN simultaneously on several HD flatscreens? Is this America transplanted? Is this all we need to feel at home, wrapped up inside a greasy, tasty, kitschy fast-food joint?
I won't make anymore sweeping statements today, except to say that we'll be back, no doubt.
No comments:
Post a Comment