Many months ago I made one of the most important decisions any expat must make. The location of his unofficial embassy. It's not a decision that one can simply make, however. There are many factors, almost to the point of a mutual choosing of one another. For me, the bond was made with Costco.
Costco represents everything about America that can't be accessed anywhere outside its walls. Bulk discounts, most notably. If I buy a whole box of juice bottles as opposed to a juice bottle per day, the unit cost is identical! Logical but infuriating. Costco spares me that furor by once again restoring the natural order of things. Spending more money is the only way to save it.
Married to this idea is also that of excess. Sure, I may never use 100 packets of instant oatmeal without developing either an aversion or a digestive problem, but no other option is presented. You buy the whole salmon or you go home empty handed. Costco is perpetually super-sized, and I derive sick pleasure from enveloping myself in the security of such excess.
I can not overlook the comfortable familiarity of brand recognition either. Be it Head & Shoulders, George Foreman, Swiss Miss, or straight up Kirkland, Costco offers all the props necessary for recreating the authentic illusion of home. It also offers me my most coveted food item: cheese, the subject of many a nostalgic blog post to date. Not just pre-sliced, individually wrapped "cheese," but blocks of cheese in cheddar or jack, tubs of feta, wheels of brie, even little sacks of La Vache Qui Rit whole milk mozzarella are available to the man willing to cough up the won. Coupled with this cheese is a variety of breads. Wheat, bagel, croissant, muffin: it's everything I could ever hope for.
Lastly, Costco's food court is identical to that of any Costco I've ever been in. The pizza is greasy, the hot dogs are cheap. Even Koreans will tell you that this is the best part about Costco, but of course they manage to confuse their priorities even in this. Every single Korean at the food court, without exception, makes a kimchi-substitute side dish to go with their food. They grind a fresh plate full of raw onions, squeeze out a package of relish, juice it all up with copious amounts of ketchup and mustard, and stir. This condiment "salad" is to be enjoyed with a spoon. Although it looks like vomit, I refuse to allow it to ruin my experience. However, I can't quite understand how an entire nation could be so crazy for spoonfuls of ketchup and raw onion.
Costco represents everything about America that can't be accessed anywhere outside its walls. Bulk discounts, most notably. If I buy a whole box of juice bottles as opposed to a juice bottle per day, the unit cost is identical! Logical but infuriating. Costco spares me that furor by once again restoring the natural order of things. Spending more money is the only way to save it.
Lastly, Costco's food court is identical to that of any Costco I've ever been in. The pizza is greasy, the hot dogs are cheap. Even Koreans will tell you that this is the best part about Costco, but of course they manage to confuse their priorities even in this. Every single Korean at the food court, without exception, makes a kimchi-substitute side dish to go with their food. They grind a fresh plate full of raw onions, squeeze out a package of relish, juice it all up with copious amounts of ketchup and mustard, and stir. This condiment "salad" is to be enjoyed with a spoon. Although it looks like vomit, I refuse to allow it to ruin my experience. However, I can't quite understand how an entire nation could be so crazy for spoonfuls of ketchup and raw onion.
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