Thoughts on Dinner at Fuente Osmena

There's something, umm ... weirdly romantic about having dinner alone at a Jollibee on Fuente Osmena. I think it has something to do with feeling out of place, a foreigner, while the entire world of the locals continues to revolve and move forward. It's the amused smile of the counter attendant as she hears the different language spoken; she realizes that I'm out of place and that I know it. It may also be because of the fact that I look exactly like the people around me, down to the flat nose and brown skin, and yet they live in a different world than mine. They speak a language vastly different and yet on some plane, completely understandable. It may be the way the lights on the street twinkle differently and how the cars that move along the large, busy rotunda move in a more disciplined way than I am used to.

 Or it may be just me romanticizing my somewhat pathetic excuse for a dinner: sweet, red, hotdog-laden spaghetti, a small cheese-less burger with a generous dollop of pink mayonnaise, and greasy fries without the ketchup.
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