It’s lunchtime and the triangle has been rung to let the members of the group attending a conference on our Centre know it’s time to eat. In the dining hall, places have been set and food laid out for eight people at each table. As they arrive, the conference participants serve themselves. And soon the food is all gone. The only problem is that not everyone has arrived yet! All the food was eaten by the first handful of people to get there!
Welcome to Cross-Cultural Living 101 :) This recently happened on our Centre here in Ouagadougou, and reminded us that people of different cultures approach things differently. Westerners coming to such a meal would look at how much food was on the table, assume that’s all there was, divide it by the number of place settings, and take the proportionate amount for themselves, assuring that enough was left for the remaining diners coming to the table. Most Burkinabè, however, will look at the food on the table and assume that since the food has not been served on individual plates, everyone can eat as much as they like and more will be brought for those coming after.
Unfortunately, our kitchen had prepared the amount of food in accordance with western standards. The organizers of the conference had ordered a certain number of meals at a certain price and the kitchen had bought the necessary supplies and cooked accordingly. But then they had served it to Burkinabè in a manner that communicated that everyone was free to eat as much as they wanted. Needless to say, this clash of cultures resulted in a very awkward situation and a number of hungry and very unhappy people!
The moral of this story? In Burkina, don’t be late for meals!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Mon Voyage à Tombouctou
tions) that we live and work not too far from a place that is (in English-language cultures at least) considered a metaphor for an exotic place far, far away: Timbuktu. Contrary to popular opinion, it’s not some place in Asia or the south Pacific. It’s just over the northern border of Burkina, in the neighbouring country of Mali.
For a while, we thought of making a trip to see this famous place. But after talking to colleagues who did so, we decided that it wasn’t worth it. There really doesn’t seem to be much worth seeing there. While in the past it was an important centre for trade and learning (it boasted one of the first universities in Africa and was referred to as the “Athens of Africa”), today it seems to be little more than an impoverished shadow of its former self, a large town of mostly mud houses and roughly 32,000 inhabitants, relying on its historic fame, its UNESCO status as a World Heritage Site, and its international airport to attract tourists.
René Caillié was not actually the first to successfully reach Timbuktu. That distinction belongs to Major Alexander Gordon Laing. Laing, however, failed to observe Rule #2 (after which, of course, it is impossible to observe Rule #3). But the fact that he perished before he published wasn’t his fault. Following an arduous crossing of the Sahara Desert from the north, during which he suffered incredible hardships, including severe sickness and an attack on his caravan by Tuareg raiders in which he was wounded dozens of times and lost his right hand, he finally arrived in Timbuktu... only to be murdered (by his guide it seems) shortly after leaving the city again.
What made Caillié an unusual Africa-explorer was his youth (he was born in 1799 and began his first attempt when he was only 16!), his eventual method of both preparing himself for the trip (he learned Arabic and Islamic customs & religious practices) and of carrying it out (as a Muslim pilgrim with local caravans and guides rather than via a foreign expedition with soldiers). These last two strategies also contributed significantly to his success. Nevertheless, he also endured severe hardships on the journey, including a five-month convalescence in Côte d’Ivoire where he suffered with an advanced case of scurvy. Not fun.
Pineau writes that Caillié’s motivation for the trip came from a love of exploration and adventure as a result of reading Robinson Crusoe. What he fails to mention is that the Paris-based Société de Géographie at the time was offering a 10,000 franc reward to the first European to see and return alive from Timbuktu, believed to be a rich and wondrous city (which it no longer was). In any case, Caillié achieved his objective, claimed the reward, published his travelogue, and gained fame & fortune.
Unfortunately, he did not live very long to enjoy it. Only 10 years later, in 1838, he died as a result of the hardships and diseases he had experienced during his African travels.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The U-Bend of Life
The cover of the Special Christmas Double Issue of The Economist (Dec 18-31) caught my eye recently. In big bold letters, it proclaimed “The Joy of Growing Old (or why life begins at 46)”. As Kathy & I are both now at the beginning of our fifth decade of life, I was intrigued enough to buy the issue in order to read the article inside.
Well, okay, I admit it... I like The Economist and would probably have bought it anyway :) But the article, entitled “The U-Bend of Life” was a bonus point. Here’s how it starts out:
“Ask people how they feel about getting older, and they will probably reply in the same vein as Maurice Chevalier: ‘Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative.’ Stiffening joints, weakening muscles, fading eyesight and the clouding of memory, coupled with the modern world’s careless contempt for the old, seem a fearful prospect—better than death, perhaps, but not much. Yet mankind is wrong to dread ageing. Life is not a long slow decline from sunlit uplands towards the valley of death. It is, rather, a U-bend.
When people start out on adult life, they are, on average, pretty cheerful. Things go downhill from youth to middle age until they reach a nadir commonly known as the mid-life crisis. So far, so familiar. The surprising part happens after that. Although as people move towards old age they lose things they treasure—vitality, mental sharpness and looks—they also gain what people spend their lives pursuing: happiness.”
I’m not sure I like the drain-pipe analogy of the U-bend (why couldn’t they have used a picture of a mountain road?)... but I guess it’s a good way to describe the phenomenon.
The conventional view of life, based on the “seven ages of man” model first outlined in the 12th century, and later popularized by Shakespeare in his play “As You Like It” in the early 1600s, has the curve going the other way. Adults increase in stature, wealth, experience, and happiness until roughly middle age, after which life becomes a downhill slide to the grave. However, studies first undertaken in the early 1990s began to put this image into doubt. And subsequent studies in various disciplines appear to confirm that in general, life is a U-bend rather than an arch, with people getting happier and enjoying life more as they pass the emotionally low point of middle age.
Several reasons have been postulated for this. One is the effect of emotional experiences at various stages of life. Stress from increasing responsibilities generally begins to rise during the early 20s and continues until middle age, after which it tends to fall sharply. Worry often peaks in middle age and then declines. Middle age, for various reasons, is often accompanied by increased feelings of sadness, which then subside with additional years. Feelings of anger tend to decline with age.
Another reason offered is the impact of external circumstances. For example, people in their 40s often have teenage children. The low point of middle age could be due to having to share living space with angry or rebellious adolescents. On the other hand, older people may be more content because they tend to be richer and more materially secure than middle-aged folks still burdened with mortgage payments and their children’s post-secondary educational expenses.
However, even when controlling for factors such as material possessions and security, employment status, and family circumstances, the U-bend is still there. In fact, even when taking cultural differences into account, the pattern still appears, though the age at which the low point of life is reached often differs somewhat. For instance, a study of people in 72 countries shows that the Swiss reach their most miserable period of life at age 35, while the Ukrainians don’t get to this point until they are 62. However, on average, most people tend to be least happy in their 40s and early 50s.
According to the article, the main reason why people tend to get happier following the misery of middle age appears to be internal. Studies show that older people generally have fewer fights and come up with better solutions to conflict. They are better at controlling their emotions, less prone to anger, and better at accepting misfortune. As they come closer and closer to the end of their life, they get better at living for the present and focusing on things that truly matter. They come to accept their strengths and weaknesses and learn to be satisfied with what they are able to achieve rather than continuing to strive to satisfy ambitions they can no longer reach.
All in all, this is very encouraging for folks my age! First of all, it means that we probably won’t get any more miserable than we currently are. We’re already at the bottom of the drain pipe :) And secondly, thank God, it’s all uphill from here!
As for all you younger folks... well, hang in there. The bottom of the drain pipe is coming, but things will get better... eventually :P
Well, okay, I admit it... I like The Economist and would probably have bought it anyway :) But the article, entitled “The U-Bend of Life” was a bonus point. Here’s how it starts out:
When people start out on adult life, they are, on average, pretty cheerful. Things go downhill from youth to middle age until they reach a nadir commonly known as the mid-life crisis. So far, so familiar. The surprising part happens after that. Although as people move towards old age they lose things they treasure—vitality, mental sharpness and looks—they also gain what people spend their lives pursuing: happiness.”
I’m not sure I like the drain-pipe analogy of the U-bend (why couldn’t they have used a picture of a mountain road?)... but I guess it’s a good way to describe the phenomenon.
The conventional view of life, based on the “seven ages of man” model first outlined in the 12th century, and later popularized by Shakespeare in his play “As You Like It” in the early 1600s, has the curve going the other way. Adults increase in stature, wealth, experience, and happiness until roughly middle age, after which life becomes a downhill slide to the grave. However, studies first undertaken in the early 1990s began to put this image into doubt. And subsequent studies in various disciplines appear to confirm that in general, life is a U-bend rather than an arch, with people getting happier and enjoying life more as they pass the emotionally low point of middle age.
Several reasons have been postulated for this. One is the effect of emotional experiences at various stages of life. Stress from increasing responsibilities generally begins to rise during the early 20s and continues until middle age, after which it tends to fall sharply. Worry often peaks in middle age and then declines. Middle age, for various reasons, is often accompanied by increased feelings of sadness, which then subside with additional years. Feelings of anger tend to decline with age.
Another reason offered is the impact of external circumstances. For example, people in their 40s often have teenage children. The low point of middle age could be due to having to share living space with angry or rebellious adolescents. On the other hand, older people may be more content because they tend to be richer and more materially secure than middle-aged folks still burdened with mortgage payments and their children’s post-secondary educational expenses.
However, even when controlling for factors such as material possessions and security, employment status, and family circumstances, the U-bend is still there. In fact, even when taking cultural differences into account, the pattern still appears, though the age at which the low point of life is reached often differs somewhat. For instance, a study of people in 72 countries shows that the Swiss reach their most miserable period of life at age 35, while the Ukrainians don’t get to this point until they are 62. However, on average, most people tend to be least happy in their 40s and early 50s.
According to the article, the main reason why people tend to get happier following the misery of middle age appears to be internal. Studies show that older people generally have fewer fights and come up with better solutions to conflict. They are better at controlling their emotions, less prone to anger, and better at accepting misfortune. As they come closer and closer to the end of their life, they get better at living for the present and focusing on things that truly matter. They come to accept their strengths and weaknesses and learn to be satisfied with what they are able to achieve rather than continuing to strive to satisfy ambitions they can no longer reach.
All in all, this is very encouraging for folks my age! First of all, it means that we probably won’t get any more miserable than we currently are. We’re already at the bottom of the drain pipe :) And secondly, thank God, it’s all uphill from here!
As for all you younger folks... well, hang in there. The bottom of the drain pipe is coming, but things will get better... eventually :P
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Creative Income Earners
Like virtually every city we’ve lived in or visited, Paris has a variety of creative income earners. These range from passive to active and fall into several categories, each with preferred locations for their work. It's a group of people that I sometimes find disturbing, but almost always interesting.
First, there are your basic mendicants. We saw both men and women involved in this activity, usually on the streets or in areas where tourists tend to congregate. Interestingly, the men tended to be passive, just sitting on the sidewalk or on a doorstep with a paper cup in front of them, hoping that passersby would drop in a few coins. I couldn’t help but thinking that this must be a cold line of work at this particular time of the year! I got cold just looking at them! And I wondered, considering the prices of things in Paris, how they could make enough money to even eat with this activity. One enterprising fellow just around the corner from our apartment, however, positioned himself in what I thought was a rather strategic location: right beside a bank machine :) On more than one occasion, I saw people put something into his cup after withdrawing money from the machine. Smart guy!
Another creative fellow worked in the area around Notre Dame Cathedral. He was an older man who sat with two cute puppies in his arms. The animals, of course, attracted the attention of the tourists, and occasionally brought in money too. In fact, several people wanted to take pictures of him and an offering appeared to be the price of the photo. I discovered this when I attempted to take a better picture of him than I’d already managed to get when he wasn't looking. He pointed a big black umbrella in my direction and opened it just at the moment that the shutter clicked :)
Prior to Christmas, I also saw passive women mendicants along the Champs Elysées. Unlike the men, these appeared to be exclusively immigrants rather than a mixture of immigrants and local people, though I must admit I was just guessing from appearance. Sitting or kneeling in the middle of the wide sidewalk area, often with hands folded as if in prayer, they waited for passersby to place an offering in the paper cup in front of them. With a chilly wind whistling down the avenue, I found myself again wondering how they could stand the cold for any sustained period of time!
Some women, however, were active. These were invariably in areas frequented by tourists and approached people asking if they spoke English. If the reply was affirmative, they whipped out a card in English saying that they needed money for one thing or another. I never watched long enough to see if they had cards in other languages in their inventory, but suspect they must have.
Another group of mendicants frequented the subway trains. We only encountered one woman doing this. She was a young lady who claimed to be a student trying to finish her studies. She announced that she had a part-time job, but that this was insufficient to meet her needs. If you couldn’t give money, restaurant or store coupons were also welcomed.
However, most of the subway income earners were men. Their stories were virtually always identical and made me wonder if they belonged to a group who sponsored this kind of activity, provided basic training, and then required its members to pay a fee or a regular part of their income for the right to work on a given subway line! Each man invariably had three children and a wife that he needed to house and feed. He would work his way from car to car, beginning his speech after the train got going again by first of all apologizing for disturbing people and then laying out his situation. Following his speech, he’d walk down the aisle with a paper cup in hand, looking for handouts. I rarely saw anyone give anything to these folks. Fortunately these men were not aggressive, simply moving on unless someone extended a hand with a coin in it.
And then there were our favourites: the entertainers! These worked almost exclusively on the subway, perhaps because it was warmer there. I only saw one act that took place outside, a group of young men doing dance and acrobatic moves to music on the Champs Elysées. On the subway, we heard a singer, a violin player, and a trio of which two members played accordions and the third a saxophone. Let me tell you, these guys were good! I wasn’t the only one who plunked a few Euros into their cups.
And the moral of this story? While it’s possible to earn a living doing nothing if you approach it strategically (like the guy at the bank machine), you’re more likely to be successful if you can offer something people want (like a photo of an old guy with two cute puppies) or something they appreciate (like the entertainers). Food for thought, anyway :)
First, there are your basic mendicants. We saw both men and women involved in this activity, usually on the streets or in areas where tourists tend to congregate. Interestingly, the men tended to be passive, just sitting on the sidewalk or on a doorstep with a paper cup in front of them, hoping that passersby would drop in a few coins. I couldn’t help but thinking that this must be a cold line of work at this particular time of the year! I got cold just looking at them! And I wondered, considering the prices of things in Paris, how they could make enough money to even eat with this activity. One enterprising fellow just around the corner from our apartment, however, positioned himself in what I thought was a rather strategic location: right beside a bank machine :) On more than one occasion, I saw people put something into his cup after withdrawing money from the machine. Smart guy!
Some women, however, were active. These were invariably in areas frequented by tourists and approached people asking if they spoke English. If the reply was affirmative, they whipped out a card in English saying that they needed money for one thing or another. I never watched long enough to see if they had cards in other languages in their inventory, but suspect they must have.
Another group of mendicants frequented the subway trains. We only encountered one woman doing this. She was a young lady who claimed to be a student trying to finish her studies. She announced that she had a part-time job, but that this was insufficient to meet her needs. If you couldn’t give money, restaurant or store coupons were also welcomed.
However, most of the subway income earners were men. Their stories were virtually always identical and made me wonder if they belonged to a group who sponsored this kind of activity, provided basic training, and then required its members to pay a fee or a regular part of their income for the right to work on a given subway line! Each man invariably had three children and a wife that he needed to house and feed. He would work his way from car to car, beginning his speech after the train got going again by first of all apologizing for disturbing people and then laying out his situation. Following his speech, he’d walk down the aisle with a paper cup in hand, looking for handouts. I rarely saw anyone give anything to these folks. Fortunately these men were not aggressive, simply moving on unless someone extended a hand with a coin in it.
Friday, December 31, 2010
African Vendors in Paris
We felt right at home when we went to visit the Eiffel Tower the other day. Even before we got to this well-known tourist attraction, we were confronted with African vendors wanting to sell us key chains in the shape of the Tower, lighters with a picture of the Tower on them, and models of the Tower itself in a variety of sizes and colours. As we were making our way along the sidewalk from the subway, they were urging us to buy something from them and, just like back in Burkina, they were even willing to negotiate the price! I listened closely as they chatted among themselves, hoping to hear someone speaking Mooré (the main language spoken in our area of Burkina), but I was apparently expecting too much in that respect because I never heard it.
Once we reached the plaza under the Tower, there were even more such vendors, though by now they were a global mix of ethnicities. Each had his wares (they seemed to be all males) spread out on a white sheet on the ground, trying to entice passersby to purchase something. But suddenly they all grabbed their sheets by cords attached to the four corners, picked up their merchandise in the resulting bundle and began running our way! No, they didn’t recognize me :) They were running from two policemen on bicycles riding towards us.
It turns out that these vendors are in fact illegal. Signs in the Tower informed us of this fact later on, warning us that the quality of their offerings could be inferior to those found in the official Eiffel Tower gift shops. But as soon as the police had gone by, they began trickling back, glancing around furtively as they set up shop again. Sure enough, just minutes later, the police arrived again, with the same results. Later on, as we were waiting in the long line to buy tickets to go up the Tower, we saw them coming through again. However, this time, they converged on a single vendor and arrested him. Interestingly, the other vendors, rather than running, gathered in several groups some distance away. For a moment, I wondered if there was going to be trouble. Were they planning on coming to their colleague’s rescue? Were they going to attack the policemen? But nothing happened.
It seems that the government here likes to make sure it gets its share of all revenue earned and these vendors are not contributing. For instance, tips in restaurants here are not encouraged because they're not possible to track for tax purposes. But to keep servers happy, a 15% gratuity is included in the price of the meals, which the government is able to track and collect the appropriate tax on.
Of course, I don’t know all the background or history as concerns this issue, but I’d be looking for ways to get these vendors legally licensed, even if it was just a small fee, rather than trying to prosecute them as doing something illegal. The salary of several license inspectors would surely be lower than the combined costs of policing, prosecution, and detainment. And the combined revenue gained from licensing could easily be higher than that gained from fines (which are also not always easy to collect anyway). In the end, everyone wins. The government gets its tax money, the vendors no longer have to always be looking over their shoulders, and the police can focus more of their efforts on real crimes.
The only losers, perhaps, would be the tourists who would be deprived of some entertainment. And stories, like this one, to write in a blog :)
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Space Invaders
Our ride on the subway from the airport should have been the first clue. But we missed it. However, we have since that time slowly become aware that the French (at least those in Paris) have a different way of dealing with personal space than we do.
This is not the case in Paris. Streets are narrow, vehicles are small (even the tractor trailers seem small here), store aisles are narrow, parking is limited, and public & living spaces are crowded, requiring a creative use of space to get the maximum benefit from it (including the use of those narrow circular stairs). Thus people are frequently required to come into relatively close contact with each other. Yet, at the same time, Parisians are not a particularly warm and social people, at least outwardly. They generally don’t look at, smile at, or speak to strangers. They avoid any form of personal connection. What Parisians have managed to do is perfect the art of being personally impersonal. Of necessity, they are required to come close together to the point of physically touching others. But at the same time they are able to completely ignore those with whom they are in contact, behaving as if the others were not even there.
We first became aware of this in the stores. We’d be looking at something on a shelf and someone stocking shelves would come right up beside us to restock an item, reaching in front of our faces and sometimes even nudging or physically pushing us aside to do so! In North America, the stocker would normally work somewhere else until the customer moved on, or at least apologize for having to work in an area where a customer is trying to make a purchase. Another time I was checking product labels on a shelf, gazing intently at the products, when a woman walked right in front of me... without even excusing herself! There was plenty of room to go behind me, but she chose to walk between me and the shelf, even forcing me to step back to make room for her to do so! Walking down the Champs Elyées the other day to peruse the Christmas Market, Kathy was shoved aside numerous times by people walking along. Rather than making an effort to go around her, they just rammed her and pushed her aside, not even bothering to look up or apologize.
The other night at the Pink Flamingo, we were sitting in the dining room eating our pizza when an employee came in and began to make espressos in a machine on the window ledge right next to where Kathy was sitting. His butt was pretty well in her face and she had to move back to avoid yielding to the temptation to bite him for invading her personal space!
Of course, as North Americans, we first thought people were being incredibly rude here. But then we realized that they just have a different sense of space, one that is dictated by their physical and social environment. And they act accordingly, even when the situation makes it possible to give others a wider berth.
But knowing something in your head isn’t always enough. I’m still tempted to WHACK! the next person that walks in front of me when I’m looking at something in a store!
First of all, as North Americans, we like a lot of personal space. This is true not only when it comes to complete strangers, but even with people with whom we are friends. We avoid physical contact, and even close physical proximity, as much as possible. We generally make an effort to respect someone else’s personal space by walking around them, waiting until they move on, or sitting at the opposite end of the bench. If, for some reason, we feel the need to invade their personal space, we apologize for it (“Excuse me, but can I just get by you here?). We prefer to keep some distance, something that is almost always possible to have in our countries of wide open spaces, and relatively large vehicles, houses, and public spaces & buildings.
This is not the case in Paris. Streets are narrow, vehicles are small (even the tractor trailers seem small here), store aisles are narrow, parking is limited, and public & living spaces are crowded, requiring a creative use of space to get the maximum benefit from it (including the use of those narrow circular stairs). Thus people are frequently required to come into relatively close contact with each other. Yet, at the same time, Parisians are not a particularly warm and social people, at least outwardly. They generally don’t look at, smile at, or speak to strangers. They avoid any form of personal connection. What Parisians have managed to do is perfect the art of being personally impersonal. Of necessity, they are required to come close together to the point of physically touching others. But at the same time they are able to completely ignore those with whom they are in contact, behaving as if the others were not even there.We first became aware of this in the stores. We’d be looking at something on a shelf and someone stocking shelves would come right up beside us to restock an item, reaching in front of our faces and sometimes even nudging or physically pushing us aside to do so! In North America, the stocker would normally work somewhere else until the customer moved on, or at least apologize for having to work in an area where a customer is trying to make a purchase. Another time I was checking product labels on a shelf, gazing intently at the products, when a woman walked right in front of me... without even excusing herself! There was plenty of room to go behind me, but she chose to walk between me and the shelf, even forcing me to step back to make room for her to do so! Walking down the Champs Elyées the other day to peruse the Christmas Market, Kathy was shoved aside numerous times by people walking along. Rather than making an effort to go around her, they just rammed her and pushed her aside, not even bothering to look up or apologize.
The other night at the Pink Flamingo, we were sitting in the dining room eating our pizza when an employee came in and began to make espressos in a machine on the window ledge right next to where Kathy was sitting. His butt was pretty well in her face and she had to move back to avoid yielding to the temptation to bite him for invading her personal space!
Of course, as North Americans, we first thought people were being incredibly rude here. But then we realized that they just have a different sense of space, one that is dictated by their physical and social environment. And they act accordingly, even when the situation makes it possible to give others a wider berth.
But knowing something in your head isn’t always enough. I’m still tempted to WHACK! the next person that walks in front of me when I’m looking at something in a store!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Supper at the Pink Flamingo
It was Friday night and we had an appetite for pizza. Yeah, I know, we can get pizza in Burkina and we’re supposed to eat stuff here that we can’t normally get in Burkina. This is, after all, the reason I’ve already bought five different kinds of cheese I’ve never tasted before. And why we’ve already tried out a Korean resto and an East Indian resto (both were taste sensations!). But for some reason, we’ve always associated Friday nights with pizza. Go figure.
Well, there’s no shortage of places that serve pizza here. But Kathy found an interesting place on the Internet that was just across the Canal St. Martin, not far from our apartment, called the Pink Flamingo. With its clever pizza names (La Danté, La Gandhi, L’Obama, La Che, L’Ho Chi Minh to name a few) and odd combinations of ingredients (gorgonzola cheese, figs, sesame cream, ginger, coriander, curry sauce, etc), it sounded like a must-try. At least we could claim that we’d never get that kind of pizza in Burkina :) So we headed up that way for supper.
It wasn’t what we expected. You entered one door to place your order and another door next to it to access a dining room. Just inside the order door, there was barely enough room for two people to stand in front of the counter. If one of their pizza delivery guys arrived and needed to get in to the back, he had to open the door, squeeze in with the people in front of the counter, and then close the door again before he could get around the counter.
Apparently the big draw of the Pink Flamingo is its unique delivery service. After placing your order, you can take a pink balloon and head to the nearby St. Martin Canal for a picnic. When the pizza is ready, they’ll deliver it to you by searching for your balloon.
It’s a pretty cool idea. But with temperatures hovering around the zero mark, we were not going for that option! Instead, we chose the dining room, with its garish pink and black colour theme reminiscent of a 1940s or 1950s diner. It wasn’t terribly warm in there either, but at least we were out of the wind.
And the pizza (La Macias: chicken with onions, ginger, coriander, cinnamon, lemon, and green & black olives), when it came, was absolutely delicious :)
It wasn’t what we expected. You entered one door to place your order and another door next to it to access a dining room. Just inside the order door, there was barely enough room for two people to stand in front of the counter. If one of their pizza delivery guys arrived and needed to get in to the back, he had to open the door, squeeze in with the people in front of the counter, and then close the door again before he could get around the counter.
Apparently the big draw of the Pink Flamingo is its unique delivery service. After placing your order, you can take a pink balloon and head to the nearby St. Martin Canal for a picnic. When the pizza is ready, they’ll deliver it to you by searching for your balloon.
It’s a pretty cool idea. But with temperatures hovering around the zero mark, we were not going for that option! Instead, we chose the dining room, with its garish pink and black colour theme reminiscent of a 1940s or 1950s diner. It wasn’t terribly warm in there either, but at least we were out of the wind.
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