October 8th, 2009

On the case

Cutting the Mustard

Last night, I met another Kiwi. It appears that flymara is switching places with kroki_refur: now that the latter has gone from England to New Zealand by way of San Francisco, the former is making the opposite journey. Mara got to play the International Dateline game, however, by leaving on Wednesday evening and arriving here Wednesday morning.

We had dinner at Max's, which is where I had tried and failed to have dinner with ora_wai. On the way, I learned that our little silver walking man—the signal to cross the street—confused her because in New Zealand, the walking man is green. Other bizarre things about New Zealand include the fact that they call McDonald's "Mackie's," they put beets in their cheeseburgers, and they call all candy "lollies" (I received more Pineapple Lumps). Mara had an American cheeseburger with no beets; she could not finish it all. As we looked over the dessert menu, she asked me what cobbler was, and I tried to explain. Then she asked me what graham crackers were, and I had no idea how to explain. So we had a key lime pie. She liked it and said it tasted like brandy snaps, whatever those are.

What Mara will really take away, though, is the fact that we Americans really love our mustard.

Your eyes do not deceive you. That is cranberry mustard. Which tastes just like it sounds. It actually works! And the sweet hot mustard sort of tasted like McDonald's hot mustard sauce, which they didn't have in New Zealand.

I took her up the Westin St. Francis elevator, which she really enjoyed. Then we went back to her hotel to watch American television, but all that was on was crap like Hank and Trauma. Still, just like ora_wai, she was excited to be watching American TV on a TV with commercials and everything.

I don't know what she watched tonight. I know what I watched, though.

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