Hard Rocks Everywhere!

Long time readers of this blog (so, mom) might recall that, ten years ago (!!!) when I was studying abroad in Belgium, my friends and I went to several Hard Rock cafes across Europe.  It seems so laughable and naive now,  but for us first-time-living-abroad travelers, European food was exotic and new, and we craved familiar American food.  Now, I'm used to American and European food being lumped together under the term 'western' and not much difference made.

Anyhow, I've kept up the tradition all these years.  I usually always ordered a pulled-pork barbecue sandwich and onion rings--good southern food that I couldn't get elsewhere either in Italy or in China.  O know they're touristy and, according to the received wisdom of travelers vs. tourists, I should be ashamed of missing an opportunity for local food.  Actually, as I get older, I care less about some subjective definition of what makes a good traveler, and my bad-traveler guilt is more because it's usually twice the price of eating in a local restaurant.  It's one of those traditions that's rather taken on a life of its own, though--as I've mentioned before, I'm a list person, and it seems awful to pass one by that could go on my list of Hard Rocks Visited.  So, I just make sure I order cheaper things...


I didn't realize it while planning, but there are three (!) Hard Rocks here in Malaysia.  I knew there was one in Kuala Lumpur; I kept meaning to look up where but happened upon it before I got around to it, on my way to the Menara KL.  Here in Malacca, I didn't even know there was one when there it was, right across the bridge with a big sign.   I stopped for lunch there during my full day in Malacca; usually I save big meals for evening but with the hot sun beating down today it seemed an idea to spend a little time during the heat of the day in air conditioning.  The onion rings and chicken tenders were wonderful as always--with lots of barbecue sauce, but the music wasn't so hot.  It was all poppy, non-classic-rock stuff I'd never heard of, and the drummer for the evening's entertainment was noisily doing a sound-check across the room.  

Hard Rock Bangkok

Years ago, when I was studying abroad in Belgium, my friends and I started a tradition of trying to go to Hard Rock whenever we could.  We would eat baguettes and drink water for several other meals to afford it.  It was, for most of us, our first time living outside the US and Hard Rock was a little trip home, at least through our stomachs.

Looking back now, it seems very silly that we found European food so exotic.  Now it's all lumped together in my mind as "western food" and I can't imagine how we had any difficulty finding familiar food. We were sheltered for sure.

However, all these years I've still kept the tradition on my own, when I could.  I almost always get the same thing-a barbecue pork sandwich with onion rings.  I guess that's the closest I can get to Tennessee food.

It's still fun to go, especially if they play good music.  I found the one in Bangkok, off of Siam Square, easily.  I enjoyed the usual-although the buns here are too sweet-while reading the (thus far) soporific Swann's Way by Proust.  Just to say, I tried twice to put that title in italics, but my phone doesn't like italics.  It keeps autocorrecting it away and I give up.  Anyway, all this to say, I splurged on Hard Rock for old time's sake, but it was a lot more fun with a crowd of noisy friends.