I haven't really had any weird pregnancy food cravings yet. Extreme food cravings in general, yes, to the point where I nearly punched Romain in the face the other day for suggesting we share a cheese baguette when I could have easily eaten six by myself.
But nothing crazy or obscure.
Except for chocolate milkshakes. Which I ordinarily wouldn't classify as obscure, but which, evidently are extremely difficult to come by in the Balkans.
My quest for a chocolate milkshake has taken me across 3 countries in the peninsula.
First time the craving hit I was in Skopje in Macedonia. I became dementedly thirsty for a chocolate milkshake after what had been a rather stressful morning at the French Embassy trying to sort out my visa. So we sat down at a cafe and I casually ordered one.
Nope, said the waitress. Nothing like that here. How about a juice?
A juice! I cried. How about you take that juice and jam it in your earhole!!
Well, I didn't really say that. But I thought it. And it wasn't an earhole.
Romain took the juice and I sat there silently fuming. Then we found a food court and low and behold a McDonalds type place, except it wasn't McDonalds but some Balkan version. And they had milkshakes on the menu!!
I'll have one chocolate milkshake please! I beamed.
Nope, said the cashier. We don't have them.
But they are on the menu!! I cried. And you have a machine!! I said frantically pointing at what was clearly a milkshake making device.
Nope, sorry, it's broken. He said.
Oh the humanity!!! So I silently fumed for a bit longer. And half-way satisfied my cravings with an 'exotic smoothie' from a juice stand that had mango and avocado in it, and wasn't too bad actually.
But it was no chocolate milkshake.
The second time the craving hit I was in Greece, having just sat through a very long and thorough but thankfully positive 22 week scan.
To celebrate I wanted nothing more than a chocolate milkshake.
Surely they'll have them at the hospital cafeteria, I thought. Mistakenly.
Nope, said the waitress. No chocolate milkshakes. How about this boring looking container of chocolate milk instead?
I reluctantly settled for it, but even after giving it a bit of a shake to make it frothy it still didn't come close.
This morning I woke up almost climbing the walls I was so thirsty for a chocolate milkshake. So when Romain suggested we make a late afternoon trip to the American Military Base - Camp Bondsteel - I heartily agreed. I knew that there was a Burger King there, so I knew that I was only hours away from getting my milkshake. Hooray!
Camp Bondsteel is like some crazy, camouflaged and heavily guarded dream world where the US have thousands of soldiers living together in a compound just in case the shit hits the fan again in Kosovo. There are several bases like this around Kosovo, a French one, a German one and another mixed one I think. Bondsteel is about a 40 minute drive from Gjilan. Not everyone is allowed onto the base but we are!
Inside it is kitted out with sports facilities, a barber, a supermarket AND a food hall that has a Taco Bell, a pizza place, a Thai restaurant and a Burger King
Crazy stuff. Especially considering there are no other Burger Kings in Kosovo and only one other Thai restaurant that I know of. And there are real Thai people cooking the Thai food, so it is really good stuff.
I feel like a wiki-leaker even talking about Camp Bondsteel, but it has it's own Wikipedia entry with all the info on it. Have a look.
Usually when we go there (about every 6 weeks or so) I opt for a curry from the Thai place, but this afternoon I beelined for Burger King, where, proudly on display on their illuminated menu board was a milkshake meal deal.
I'll have one of those please!! I grinned.
Nope, said the man. We don't have milkshakes here.
But the menu says! I said.
Nope. Sorry. None. Bugger off you crazy pregnant lady (well he didn't say that, but I'm pretty sure he was thinking it).
I stood shocked. This was too cruel. As I slumped dejectedly away from the counter and past a table full of soldiers in their fatigues happily munching away on their burgers, I saw, like a beacon, the cafe counter at the other end of the mess hall, where, if I wasn't mistaken, they had milkshakes on their menu.
I wasn't sure I could handle a second let-down in one day, so timidly I asked the waitress if they had milkshakes.
Yes. she said.
Oh great!! I cried. I'll have a chocolate one!!
Wait, she said, I don't think I have anymore chocolate ice-cream. Let me check.
Oh no! I cried. A vanilla or strawberry milkshake just wasn't going to cut it.
But, happily, she did. And so I paid one American dollar extra to make it an 'extra thick' milkshake and ended up with pretty much a litre of melted chocolate ice-cream which made my cheeks ache as I tried to suck it through the straw and left me feeling completely bilious.
But sated. Hopefully for at least another six weeks.
Afterwards we went to the PX (what the Americans call their military base supermarkets) and bought all sorts of things that you can't find in Kosovo supermarkets, like bacon and Hagen Dazs butter pecan ice-cream and Canada Dry Ginger Ale. And a myriad of other things that we didn't need, but bought anyway, because the PX is so enchanting and makes you do things like that. It has a whole aisle of American lollies (candies?) that I've only ever come to know through reading The Baby Sitters Club or watching Seinfeld or the Goonies - like Junior Mints and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Baby Ruths. And a deep freezer section with lots of pork-based products and also things like Country Crock dairy spread and Bubba Burgers. It is also the only place I've ever been shopping where pretty much every other shopper is armed with a semi-automatic rifle.
Ah, Kosovo.
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| Our Bondsteel Booty. The yellow plastic bag contains tupperware containers that we had the good Thai people fill with their delicious curries, so that we can freeze them and have 'Thai take-away' when we feel like it. Clever, hey! Maybe next time I'll take an esky and order 17 milkshakes that I can also freeze and have on hand, so that poor Romain doesn't have to suffer through my deranged cravings in the future. |
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| The Camp Bondsteel cafeteria is NOT like a Kelis music video. |
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| Keanu Reeves was NOT the cashier at the Burger King counter. |
