Glen and I decided that we’d stay at the hotel on Sunday and do some work in the afternoon. When lunch time arrived it dawned on us that we haven’t made any arrangements. What to do? We think about walking to the fruit market but then decide to see if the gentleman in the office could order us some food.
He speaks very little English (more than my bahasa) but he understands what we need. Then he utters three very familiar words “Kay – Eff – Cee”. That works says Glen so we ask him to get us some. He dials the number on his mobile phone and then immediately hands the phone to me. My first words were “Hello. Is there anyone there who speaks English?” The man at KFC’s first words were “What’s your phone number?” Darned if I know, I thought, as it wasn’t my phone - so I told him I’d call him back.
Glen and I go back to his room and call KFC from Glen’s phone and get the same man. Now I can answer his question. Ordering isn’t the same as back home with “Two, two-piece meals, please.” After a few stumbles, and some choice's I didn’t recognize, I think I’ve ordered four pieces of chicken, two French fries, and two Pepsi’s. And he says they’ll be delivered soon.
About 15 minutes later the delivery man arrives on the KFC delivery scooter and, to our relief, we get exactly what we ordered. The one added item that you won't get back home is two packets of sambal, the local hot pepper sauce. A great meal - and we now have a phone number for another weekend when we don’t have a car and have a desperate urge for western-style food.