Indonesian KFC

Okay, it's confession time. About once a week I crave french fries and coerce James into taking me to KFC. Yes, that's right, Kentucky Fried Chicken. There's just something about greasy fried chicken and coke that comforts me. Our KFC has a slightly different menu than the ones back home. Sadly, it does not include mashed potatoes and coleslaw; only rice and perkedels (fried potato dumplings). The chicken is a little spicier, but the french fries are fantastic.

This week we stopped in for lunch and happened upon a birthday party. I counted between 40 and 50 children. Now, I don't know if you had birthday parties as a child, but I seem to recall little gatherings of 6-8 children. So I'm wondering, how does this kid even know 50 people? Are they the children of his parents' friends? His entire school class? His religious youth group? The events of the party are a little different than I remember too. Used to, my 6 friends and I would eat a McDonald's hamburger, throw a few bean bags at Grimace, and leave with a helium-filled balloon. Inevitably, someone would let loose her balloon and stand screaming in the parking lot while it drifted heavenward. To this day, when I see a child sobbing over a lost balloon, it makes me smile nostalgically. The Indonesians celebrate a little differently. KFC provides a PA-system, and someone makes a few speeches, tell a few jokes, and generally riles up the children.

So James and I are sitting in KFC, listening to a man chatter away on a microphone while 50 children sit and eat chicken and rice. Then comes my favorite part; it's time to sing to the birthday boy, and they actually sing "Happy Birthday"--in ENGLISH. Why? It's a mystery. I'm no anthropologist, but I find the reach of the American influence on this Oriental island truly fascinating. One day, perhaps, we'll sit down to good, old southern coleslaw and biscuits with our chicken. Any of you grandmas got a recipe we can sell them?