From Bojangles to Burma.

I just spent a fabulous weekend on Bald Head Island, watching two good friends get hitched. There was sun, sand, and lots of good food. And on the drive back to the Charlotte airport, my brother said that I absolutely had to stop for a chicken biscuit at Bojangles.

Yes, I said Bojangles. That ubiquitous fried chicken chain of the south. Which I have actually never been to before and which also actually turned out to be the highlight of route 74. If you know NC route 74, you know that’s not saying much, but the point is, fried chicken on a biscuit is almost always delicious– even at a sketchy looking fast food joint.

I then hopped on a plane, jetted across the Atlantic and woke up in Paris, biscuit crumbs still clinging to my shirt. Just a few hours later I was at a cooking class, learning how to make mayonnaise and chocolate mousse in a gorgeous old Parisian mansion. And not long after that, I found myself riding in the backseat of a private car with the Myanmar Ambassador’s wife, who happened to also be in the cooking class. She couldn’t stop talking about how much she loved Macys.

Bojangles to Burma in less than 24 hours: It was just weird enough to make me wonder if jet lag caused hallucinations.