The Great was exactly that

Yes yes, I'm writing about food again. I went back over to Pacific Place today and found The Great, which is the expat grocery store in the basement of Seibu. It lived up to it's name. They had "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" spray ... enough said. I got spicy tuna rolls to go and ate them back at my office. The thing I can't find for the life of me is real yogurt. Everything here is water, sugar, and milk solids ... gross. I'm going back to pick up dinner!

When I was in The Great, it was the first time where I felt like I was back in the ethnic majority again. That sounds awful, but it has been a weird experience being a minority. It's not like I'm uncomfortable or anything, but I find myself sometimes acting much like my dog back home. Each time I see a young Caucasian person, I find myself pulling at the proverbial harness wanting to go play. I envision my opening line will be, "hi! I'm not a freak, but I just wanted to ask if we can be friends because I don't know anyone here." Then we would sniff each others' butts and go run around the park.

When I got back to the office, I told some of my co-workers about The Great because some had mentioned they didn't know it existed. One said to me, "you ate Western food again?!?" I explained to her that I actually had Japanese food, to which she shrugged as if to say 'same difference!' and went back to her work. The other said I need to try things more local. Here 'local' doesn't imply proximity to your home or office, it means it's a closely-held ethnic food in Hong Kong. Like egg tarts (or et tot as they say), which were okay. I told them they tasted like tapioca ... then tried to explain what tapioca was and eventually gave up. Chicken feet is also 'local' ... no thank you. I'll stay nice and foreign.