My grand tale is coming to an end. So today, before the finale, I'll share what I've remembered while writing the rest of the posts.
For instance, we went to Wendy’s. It's also fast food, but the beef there is fresh, not frozen, so it's supposedly cooler than McDonald's, but worse than Culver's, even though that's all just pulled out of thin air. The prices are moderate.
I bought a double stacker there, meaning a hamburger with a double portion of meat. Taste-wise – not bad, normal, with pronounced cheesiness and greasiness. When I was buying it, the cashier asked where I was from because she heard an accent. To the answer: “Latvia” she said she didn't know what that was. A guy cashier with glasses nearby said it's in Europe, one of the Baltic countries left after the collapse of the USSR. I was seriously surprised, and the cashier said: “Yeah, he knows this kind of things”.
The motto says: “Old fashioned hamburgers”. But the logo is still adapted for Web 2.0.
Also, when we were in Wisconsin Dells, in the morning we went to a buffet aka smorgasbord Collosus Buffet. So-so – some dishes tasted okay, but overall mediocre. Funny thing, on the right, where you could smoke, sat black people and us, and on the left – white people. For my sister, the fact that in some places in WD you could smoke was very unusual – in Madison, it's banned everywhere. By the way, only 20% of Americans smoke now. A few decades ago this figure was 40%, meaning almost all men and many women smoked. In Europe, they still puff away more – understandably, thanks to poor countries like Latvia.
Then we went to the movies, to see the new Indiana Jones. The tickets don't have assigned seats, they cost $9. On weekdays there are plenty of seats, you buy tickets right at the entrance, and when entering the hall nobody checks them. The movie theater was big, with a bunch of halls, but that didn't help it – the screen still looked the same as ours back in Daugavpils - a bit pale and with interference stripes. The Indiana movie is fine, the jokes are pleasing, but somehow the action progressed weirdly at the end, and it ended abruptly.
By the way, Russian pseudo-patriots don't like it when someone says "this country" about Russia, they prefer the option "our country". Supposedly, the former distances the speaker, as if they're all in white, while the country is the opposite. Sometimes that really is the case, but often it's just a calque from the English “this country”.
Also, I completely forgot to talk about such a classic American snack as beef jerky, meaning beef subjected to slicing, marinating, salting, and drying. This whole operation in its entirety is called curing, but it's quite possible that the American process differs from ours, for example, by the addition of the most diverse spices. The name of the product sounds like "beef jerky," which is why I jokingly call it "zhorka," since it sounds like a certain well-known word. It comes, like chips, in a million different kinds. Even from other types of meat, including not just pork, but even crocodile. The bags are huge in size, though they cost $9. Zhorka is a harmless thing, moderately caloric, very nutritious, and useful for bodybuilders because it consists mostly of protein. True, Americans pour the notorious glutamate with a generous hand, unless you buy the notorious organic/all natural. Anyway, I miss it - here, cured meat in bags is sold only in Rimi, there are only three flavors, it's more expensive and tastes worse. When I was leaving the US, I wanted to bring a giant bag of zhorka to Latvia, but there was no room in my suitcase. The dish is also sold online – here, for example, is an English store, they ship to us. Homemade zhorka, without additives, is also sold on eBay.
Expensive zhorka in a bag.
Undoubtedly, they couldn't possibly do without the inscription “premium cuts”.
Since I've started talking about food, I should say that those pickles, meaning preserved cucumbers, clearly have a connection to the process of pickling, meaning marinating. And another thing – they've started selling tortillas in Daugavpils, which is extremely pleasing. Produced by Santa Maria, they taste excellent.
Zhorka without a bag
Lingvo (which is mostly useless for understanding modern American realities) opens up a whole string of meanings for us regarding pickles.
pickle
1. noun1) brine; vinegar for a marinade
2)
a) usu. pl. pickles, marinade, piccalilli
b) salted or pickled cucumbers
3) unpleasant situation; sorry plight; difficult situation
I'm in no particular pickle at present. — Right now, everything seems to be fine for me.
I could see no way out of the pickle I was in. (Stevenson) — And I saw no way out of that terrible situation I was in.
And so on.
Upon returning to Latvia, everyone asked me and still asks me if I want to go live and work in the US. It's a stupid question, and anyway, why don't the people asking go there themselves? Or do they think you can understand something from two weeks of tourism? Here's a joke for them.
So this guy dies and goes to heaven. He's just sitting on the grass all day, angels buzzing around, bringing him refreshing drinks. Boring as hell. Then a couple of devils, who arrived on a business trip from hell, roll up to him. “Come with us,” they say. “It's fun down there, we got slutty girls, plenty of booze, music playing. Let's go!” Well, he agreed, the devils sorted him out with a visa. He went. Everything was exactly like that. Girls, booze, music. Overall, awesome. He sits there and thinks — what the hell am I doing in heaven, like an idiot? He goes to God and submits a petition: so and so, I request a transfer to hell of my own free will. Well, God ran him through the bureaucracy, made him sign all sorts of forms, and let him go. And so the guy arrives in hell, and right at the gates, the devils grab him — and toss him onto a frying pan. It hurts, damn it! It's hot! The guy yells: “What are you doing??? What about the girls? And the booze? And the music?” And the devils answer him affectionately: “Now, now, my dear fellow, don't confuse tourism with immigration.”
So I answer everyone that Europe is closer, more beautiful, and much easier to get into – the job market of many countries is open for Latvians.
There's a more mundane question, but one that actually makes some sort of sense: “Did I like it in the US?” I was asked that too, and I will answer.
Vacationing is good everywhere, and I did like it in the US. I'm not sure if that's clear from my posts, but it's true. It's another matter that I'm a depressive type, so it's weird to expect any special excitement from me. The United States of America is by no means the worst place on earth, no matter what your TV tells you. The talk about the lack of “brains,” “culture,” and “traditions” is usually spewed by sick-in-the-head Americaphobes, who make up half the world. They have plenty of the first, the second, and the third, even if Europe has more of everything. We shouldn't forget that America made the greatest contribution of all countries to the development of science, technology, and industry in the 20th century, which undoubtedly appeals to me. And the exported American mass culture, which everyone spits on so much, will become classical, as has happened in history more than once. As for the food, it's not as bad as expected, on the contrary – there are pleasant surprises, like Subway, fresh vegetables in bags, or even that same zhorka.