This weekend I found out I'm bipolar. I don't know if it's the kind of thing people generally self-diagnose, but it is what it is. All of Saturday I ate American. I was excited about it. The local grocery store promotes a different world cuisine each week and last week was American Week. I bought beef burgers, burger buns, pancake mix, Caesar dressing, and some sort of wing sauce. These are all things I haven't eaten in a while -either because they don't really exist here or when they do, it's some sort of a bootleg version of the dish. I'm in the nightmare situation where 'a good burger' in this city is found at McDonald's. Anyway, I made the pancakes for breakfast and we ate them with butter and maple syrup (an earlier souvenir from Canada), and then at night it was burger time. Yum! I guess the eating is one thing, but there was also something akin to the pleasure one gets from visiting an old friend. In fact, I was excited to be able to ...