A mission could be a good experience in that way.]]>
The absolute grossest food memory I have was of the cheese. Yes, to me, the cheese in Honduras was worse than the mondongo (that is, until I ate it rather regularly for months on end and one day discovered I actually liked it. Mondongo I only had once, so maybe if it had been a regular thing I would have acquired that taste too?)
So, I was a greenie sitting with my Guatemalan companion as our investigator brought out a nice respectable meal of beans, fried plantains, and a hard roll. And a huge hunk of white, crumbly, smelly (like the smell-of-your-feet smelly) cheese. At this point I hadn’t learned the art of mixing the foods on my plate to choke them down better, so I saved the worst for last. Never can I forget the feeling of that dry, stinky white cheese filling up my mouth and refusing to go down. It just sat there on my tongue and in my cheeks, turning my stomach. I was eating someone’s processed toe jam, I just knew it.
The funniest part about it to me now is realizing that my companion LOVED that kind of cheese — it was a delicacy to her and she wouldn’t have thought twice about accepting my chunk if I had offered it. DOH!]]>
Now triffle and yorkshire pudding and english chocolates….that’s good eating.]]>
Another fun experience in the mish is having to “go” when you aren’t near your favorite toilet. Folletos (brochures), in that event, come in quite handy.]]>
In Chile we had pensiones that included the room and food. Our landlady told me that she had prepared a wonderful “watita” or cow stomach for our lunch. I guess my face gave me away and she asked me if I’d prefer something else. I said I would. That afternoon we sat down to eat. I had a nice beefsteak with a fried egg on it (common in Chile but I don’t know where it comes from). My relatively new companion had the watita.
He said, “What’s this?”
“Cow stomach,” I said.
“Why don’t you have it?”
“I told her I didn’t like it.”
“Why didn’t you tell her that I didn’t like it?”
“I didn’t know that you didn’t…”
It took several weeks to heal that rift.
Another time I gave a discussion to a Pentecostal minister. When we had finished we asked him to offer the prayer. Halfway through he said, “Lord, if the message these young men have told me is true make them fly around this room!!!”
I cracked open my eye and found my companion looking at me with a raised eyebrow. Unfortunately we had to walk out of his house…]]>