One Woman's Search for Not A Gotdamn Thing Across All the Countries She's Able to Take Her Broke Ass

1.27.2010

Surabaya (Day 17 Cont'd, Wednesday, 081209)

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Tunjungan Plaza's McDonald's is the lunch destination after the Surabaya Zoo.

(I'm perfectly conscious of the irony of bemoaning the conditions at the zoo and immediately thereafter dining at Micky D's.)

There are few instances in which I champion the platitude that "ignorance is bliss," but this is motherfuckin' one of them:

Eric tells me that he's seen a tiny baby roach crawling out of my box of fries.

After I've already horked down every last piece of julienned root vegetable lovingly sheathed in the familiar red and yellow cardboard.

Bleehh.

I decide that I need to ingest a frozen yogurt with a topping of long yen to cleanse my palate of scavenger insect. But all I can think about is how a portion of my life's total meals probably underwent similarly unhygienic circumstances, and am hair-raisingly appalled.



And by that I mean the hair on my nipples.

We also check out the movie theater, but not interested in anything playing, we return to the hotel to gape at the TV, and such quality television programming as "The Biggest Loser" and "Oprah" (okay, so you can't really knock the Oprah, A-Force-To-Be-Reckoned-With).

Dinner's at the hotel restaurant: a basket of fried chicken, which I assumed would be Indonesian style fried chicken but instead turns out to be chicken tenders.

And so my last hurrah of culinary exploration turns into a swan song.

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