Fast-food abroad: Want frites with that Royal Cheese?

Seems to me the point of frequenting a fast-food joint abroad misses the point of traveling abroad. Aren’t we trying to escape the same-old, same-old for a bit?

Miramax Films

Of course, there’s always the temptation to drop by to see if there’s any difference.

For instance: We already know Quarter Pounders with Cheese aren’t Quarter Pounders with Cheese in France, thanks to Pulp Fiction.

Actually, Vincent Vega, it’s not a Royale with Cheese, it’s a Royal Cheese.

I’ve generally stayed away from places like Mickey D’s because — even before seeing Super Size Me and those other chilling documentaries about the fast-food industry — it didn’t feel right on so many levels. (But somehow, Yodels are OK. Yeah, I know.)

Truth is, thought of a burger abroad makes me especially sick. (Back in caveman days, during my college junior year abroad in Italy, one from a Venice bar had me in the bathroom all day. A bathroom where the toilet was a tile floor with a hole. Still remember being plastered to that floor.)

I confess I bought a Royal Cheese in Paris in the recent past because I was famished and couldn’t walk another step.  It was the same reliable taste of home, but I felt stuffed and out of sorts afterward.

How do you say that in Francais? Bleh?

If you must, here’s a list of some of the more-exotic offerings at fast food places abroad. Dunno about the Curry Beef Donut (with sugar?) in China. And the Coffee Jelly Frappuccino at Starbucks in Japan.

When it comes to favorite fast food overseas: I’ll take an Aussie Pastie any day over that other stuff. No, mate, not something to cover up your privates. A pah-stee.

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