2009-12-11

An American in Rio

And lo, on the seventh day the rain abated and the plagues were healed, and joyous mirth was beheld by all.

Okay, not quite that pretentious, but the ghastly weather and illnesses that have plagued us for the past week have been almost biblical in their proportions.

But, today we felt better and the sun was shining, so we did what any red-blooded American yuppie couple would do to celebrate: we high-tailed it to the nearest mall.

Anyone who has traveled to another country before has probably realized that American culture is never too far away, whether you want it to be or not. And this is particularly noticeable in Rio de Janeiro’s malls. American music, from Snoop Dogg to Taylor Swift, blares from every storefront, usually with all the lyrics fully intact. American authors line the bookshelves in every store, both in the native language and in English. American restaurants are among the most plentiful and popular in these malls, including, but not limited to: Pizza Hut, Subway, Outback, McDonald’s, Applebees, and T.G.I.F’s.

My favorite moment from the day was when we eagerly approached Burger King, thoughts of Double Whoppers dancing in our heads. Waiting in line, we were approached by well-coiffed women styled all in black who inputted our orders on Blackberries (BLACKBERRIES!), and then ushered us to a cashier to pay. From there we were immediately whisked to where our food was waiting and then motioned on to yet a second station where we were given our drinks. Trying to be fair (and trying not to laugh at the utter hilariousness of Blackberries being utilized at a Burger King), I said that at least that was the quickest I had ever received my fast food. At which point Matt commented, “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” and left the table to speak with someone, because they had gotten his order wrong.

I’m not one to get all up in arms about globalization. Like everything else, it has its good points and it’s bad points. And unfortunately, as an American living abroad, I am selfishly delighted by the rampant spread of our culture, because it means that I can always get a little slice of home whenever I need it. But as I stared up at the 50-foot plaster replica of the Statue of Liberty that graced the front of one of Rio’s malls, I thought to myself: Perhaps this is too much.

Because, really, I will never know what it is like to be completely separated from my culture. I will dabble, I will play, I will pretend. But I won’t ever suffer that final isolation, to immerse myself in another land, with no hint of my own in sight.

I think I might be missing out on something.

But I won’t ever really know, will I?

No comments:

Post a Comment