When traveling, I do consider myself somewhat of a culture snob. I visit the museums, speak the language, and only eat in the authentic local restaurants. However, after my first two weeks in Spain, I have succumbed to the allure and simplicity of American fast food.
The offender: McDonald's. The verdict: Mmm home, but not quite. Although the packaging and taste rings a bell, the Spanish form of Mickey D's just isn't the same. On the Saturday night I committed the crime, the local McDonald's was filled with families, couples and teens—it was the neighborhood spot. And everyone there was happily content spending time together in a fast food joint on a weekend night.
Just a nod to the little differences between the true blue US and España.
Guilty.