The USA has never been in my list of dream destinations, which is odd for a Filipino, who I think are generally American obsessed colonials from the equator. Except for the fact that the original Disneyland is here (every child does want to meet Mickey Mouse at some point in time), there is little reason for me to actually spend my hard earned money and precious time in the USA.
But then again, fate has its strange, inexplicable ways. And she (or he) has brought me here to the US of A three weeks ago.
My fear of the USA has always been about the bleak and the bland. As our plane dived into the refreshing vibrant green cityscape, my fingers dug into the chair arms with bated breath as I braced myself for flavorless living.
Then as we lined up for our turn through the immigration counter, right smack in the middle of a non-English speaking crowd, I realized that I forgot the wee yet very important fact that the USA is, in fact, not just the land of the free, the bold and the brave, but of immigrants from all over the world and of all colors, shapes and sizes. And where there are immigrants, they bring along their own food, a taste of their homes miles away from here. With a smug smile pasted on my face, I knew that there was hope for my own personal selfish agenda of enjoying a delicious life
And as we were driven around our temporary neighborhood, a few miles away from Atlanta, ogling in the sights of neon and fluorescent signs of undecipherable, nondescript letters and characters, I knew that we’ve been blessed with foodie gold. We are living in ethnic, more specifically Asian and South American, eats central.
Would you believe that our first-ever American meal was not even a burger, fries and soda? So happy to have enjoyed this feast on our very first day in America:
Thank you God for bringing us to Duluth, Georgia! The past three weeks have been definitely delicious and wonderful
Delirious about delicious,