Tuesday 15th January 2008
Q: Where would you be if you passed by Brazil and Cuba and ended up in Lebanon? A: On your way from Indiana to Missouri.
Was this original global thinking by those assigning names to cities, or perhaps a desire for more tasty and zesty food from the bland fare in these Midwest parts? Who knows, but the names of towns along the way are a constant source of amusement and wonder.
We've seen California in Pennsylvania, Cadiz in Ohio, Pacific in Missouri, and will soon see Yukon, not to be confused with The Yukon...this one's in Texas.
We deftly avoid repeating our BBQ mistake of the previous day in a "COUNTRY" restaurant run by a dour and formidable Korean woman who glared at us as she held the door for two of her octogenarian regulars, lured by the cheap price and buffet, or perhaps her take on country cuisine. This was a distinctly unsavoury mix of the sour smell of collard greens with the unmistakable odour of kimchi or perhaps floor cleaner. We beat a hasty retreat, having to pass her glare once more before leaving. We then drive fruitlessly up and down and back and forth the town's main streets.
I watch depressingly as two girls (off duty staff) sit feeding at a far table. At some point, they get up, and in what must pass for exercise in this town, waddle over to another table about three feet away. No doubt exhausted by this ordeal, they immediately reload (Jumbo Cokes and some gawdawful fake whipped cream monstrosity), and commence round two. What is more, they just don't just look fat and bored. They look unhappy, fat and bored.