It was a little strange seeing an “American” aisle in the international section of the grocery store yesterday. It’s one of those small things that happen from time to time and reminded me that I’m the foreigner here.
We don’t often see ourselves that way, though, even when traveling. We immediately notice other people’s accents but rarely stop and think about how funny or incomprehensible we probably sound to everyone else. I guess we feel so at home in our own skins that it’s hard to appreciate how foreign we may seem to others.
Maybe sometimes that is a good thing because the world’s perceptions of us aren’t always the most flattering. I have to say that I was both a little sad and a lot embarrassed to see Old Glory flying above these shelves.
Whatever you may think of “American Food” this is how at least a portion of the globe sees our contribution to world cuisine. The saddest part is that I don’t think they’re entirely wrong. Highly processed sugar puffs are as uniquely American as Betty Crocker.
And who can forget the delights she cooked up, like Cherry Pineapple Bologna with instant potatoes and added food coloring. Ah, the good old days.
If you’ll please excuse me now, I’m going to go lie down. I think I’m feeling a little home sick.
