Week 2, part six

 

The next day I visited the Whitehouse, because you can’t come to D.C and not try (“try” being the operative word considering the security cordons) to see the Whitehouse. I did succeed, to an extent, though the zoom feature of my camera was put to good use. A more interesting story is that when I was walking to the Whitehouse I went to a McDonalds kiosk to get some chips (“fries”) because the last time I tried to go into an actual McDonalds restaurant here it was surrounded by police, and I was later told that inner-city McDonalds is best avoided as it attracts criminals who prey on tourists, not to mention concerns over food hygiene. Rest assure, I did safely acquire my (by this time) much desired chips but only after this exchange;

 Server; “May I take your order Ma’am?”

Me; “Yes, thank you, I’ll have some small fries please”

Server; looks confused, “you want fries?”

Me; “Yes please”.

Server; “what size?”

Me; “small”

Server, to another member of staff; “Can I get some regular fries please!”

Me; “and can I please have some tomato sauce too”

*server hands me 7, that’s right, S-E-V-E-N sachets of ketchup”

 So, either they misunderstood my accent, or there is no such thing (as I have long suspected) as a small portion of anything in the U.S. By the way, the chips I was served, whether they were officially “small” or “regular” were the size of “large fries” back in the U.K.

Later, I ended up in Dupont Circle, with some Americans (roommates of another British intern) in Starbucks. This is ironic due to the cultural context of the Dupont Circle area of the city. Traditionally, Dupont Circle was the “anti-establishment” part of Washington D.C, filled with vintage shops and gay bars and “alternative” fashion. Now, like the rest of D.C, there resides a Starbucks within sight of the Metro stop (fantastic strategy for attracting the commuters, sick of heat and humidity!) and on the one hand I thought this was a sad product of mass marketing and globalisation, but on the other hand I just really, really, wanted a cold drink.

Words I/ we (the other British interns) have taught the American interns:

-“Jubilee” (obviously they have no need for this one!)

- “Keen”, apparently this word doesn’t exist here, though they now know what it means. A whole intern house full of Americans have gone on to adopt the word and use it in virtually any phrase, just so they can shout “KEEN” at each other in mock-British accents and rhyme it with the word “queen”.