Friday, December 13, 2013

Creeping Feelers Of Cholesterol

Beefy-like greasiness defeats cleanliness.

Having relocated (i.e., having returned to Cuenca, Ecuador after an absence), and no longer holed up in the small hotel I inhabited for six months, I find that nearly everything about my situation has changed.

Like where to do laundry.

The hotel strictly forbade washing clothes in the bathroom sink, but that's where I did mine. And since I had the bathroom all to myself, and didn't break the sink, no one was the wiser.

Break the sink? Yep.

Management had a sign up specifically mentioning this possibility. It appears some passers-through got carried away once upon a time, applied too much vigorous pressure, agitation-wise, in the general direction of their jeans, and cracked the sink, destroying it.

I didn't, managing to wash socks, undos, T-shirts, shirts, jammies, and even my largish knapsack and definitely very large duffel bags, all in a sink whose liquid capacity was around a gallon (speaking generously).

But now I don't live there. Got a private sink, but no private shower stall where I can hang my wet stuff to drip, and not that much privacy overall.


I went looking for the self-serve laundromat I remembered seeing months ago. It ain't' there no more.

I did find another one, but it's at least an extra quarter mile out, although it is there, which is nice. The self-serve part is nice too, since Ecuador is a place where labor is cheap and machines are expensive and beyond the experience of 95% of the populace. Especially highly technical machines like photocopiers, washers, and dryers.

But hey. Where was the one I remembered? I'm sure of the location, but there is a McDonald's there instead.

Hmmm. Could it be? I think so. I think I know what happened. McDonald's embraced and extinguished the scrubbery.

McDonald's, Burger King, KFC – all of them – are considered high culture here, by some. Exotic. Trendy. Forward-thinking. New Age.

And eating at any one of them is proof of wealth and status, since a meal is equal to half a week's pay for lots of people here.

And no matter what norteamericanos think of the nutritional quality or relative status accompanying these calorie-shovelers, eating at any of them is definitely a mark of distinction here.

But McDonald's doesn't do pants.

So, overall – Boo. Two thumbs down, accompanied by an appropriate amount of feces-hurling.

I need clean pants, and for under three bucks I can get a fresh, locally-sourced, and delicious meal. Served in four courses, by waiters, with tablecloths no less, so, if anyone had asked me, I'd have said McDonald's stay home.

Why doesn't anyone ever ask me about these things anyway? I could run the world so much better, with reduced grease content and more flavor to boot.



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