on carne and life in the convent

i´ve been on a pretty strict diet of white rice, boiled potatoes, and saltines here.  they´re usually served with some sort of meat sauce, which i of course pass up.  it´s surprisingly hard to find vegetarian food--usually when i travel to developing countries, it´s not an issue because everyone is too poor to afford meat anyway.  but here a lot of things are cooked in lard or meat broth.  there isn´t really a general term for "meat" in spanish--carne is usually taken to mean just red meat. and the concept of vegetarianism doesn´t really exist here, and the idea that beef would be in the same category as fish or meat broth is entirely foreign. (i´m reminded of a conversation i had in uganda once, "were you born that way, or did you catch it recently? don´t worry, we´ll take you to the village healer tomorrow and he´ll cure you straightaway.")

one of the girls on the trip was helping the cooks out this weekend and decapitated a chicken.  she says that if you´re willing to eat meat, you should be willing to kill it yourself.  i guess i respect that, to some degree, because if everyone went by that principle, there´d be a lot more vegetarians in this world.  nevertheless, i still found it pretty disturbing when she came inside splattered in blood head to toe, and talked about how after she´d cut off his head, it fell to the ground and kept moving, while the wings on his decapitated body kept thrashing for a while.  i need to brush up on a more detailed spanish description of "i´d rather not eat anything made of a dead animal, please."

the other day at dinner, we had soup.  after a rather long discussion with the cook, she convinced me that it was entirely vegetarian.  halfway in, i made an unfortunate discovery--chunks of intestines and cow stomach lurking at the bottom of my bowl.  apparently what she really meant was "a ladle of the tripe stew that happens to have a higher concentration of vegetables than normal."  the intestine bits were long and slippery, while the stomach chunks still had a definitive curve to them, and had a spongy texture with little tentacley bits rather like the interior of a passion fruit.  my own stomach lurched and i promptly left the table and threw up my supper.

we´ve taken to calling the place where we´re staying "the convent."  it´s not a convent per se, but a religious compound where masses, weddings, religious retreats, vacation bible schools, and such are held.  it´s pretty, but a bit strict.  alcohol is prohibited on the premises, apart from communion wine, and other questionable activities are restricted, too (though the degree to which these regulations are being followed by our group is arguable...).  there´s never quite enough to eat, though i guess that´s appropriate considering that gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins.  and perhaps more importantly, as an introduction to living in a country in which over half of the population lives below the poverty line. 

i´m looking forward to getting to my site placement and being able to cook for myself.  it will be nice to have a little variety, and a little protein now and then.  rice and beans is actually one of my favorite dishes, and i can probably swing it even with my meager teaching stipend.  i´m also eager to try more of the fruit here--mangoes, guavas, passionfruits, lulos, guanábana, guyaba...  there are also several popular foods sold by street vendors that are quite delicious, and i´d love to learn how to make them: empañadas, and arepas, which are thick, sweetish corn patties stuffed with cheese, fruit, or sweet paste.  i´ve heard that it´s unwise to eat from street vendors, but i feel that building up a hardier stomach and immune system will serve me well for the future.  plus they´re too delicious to resist.

colombian food in general, though, is pretty bland.  the coffee and hot chocolate, however, are absolutely divine.  colombia is, of course, world famous for its coffee.  though most of the best beans are exported, as in uganda, what remains is still awesome--so deep a brown it´s nearly black, served in little cups and so strong you can only stand it in little sips or with milk.  and magnificently caffeinated.  but perhaps even better than that is the hot chocolate.  it´s a staple of colombian breakfasts, and certainly makes waking up at 5:30 am for classes in teaching methods and spanish a little sweeter.  it reminds me of san antonio--whenever we go down there to visit relatives with my dad, we stock up on round bricks of mexican chocolate, dark and gritty and stuffed with crystals of sugar and cinnamon.  it´s meant to be melted down into boiled milk for hot chocolate. but the chocolate rarely makes it that far, as my sister and i tend to break off chunks and make short work of it.

we went into the town of cota a few days ago to hit up a random little lebanese restaurant.  there´s actually a large middle eastern population in colombia, oddly enough.  shakira herself is half lebanese.  and thus you can get pretty great middle eastern food, particularly in bogotá.  we had to wait for two hours for the food, but it was totally worth it to have something other than rice and potatoes for supper:  fresh pitas, hummus, vegetables in tangy sauce, falaffel, lentils...  i got some rose tea, and it came in a little glass cup with rose petals floating in it.  it reminded me of cairo.

but probably the best part of the evening was the music.  arabic pop has the uncanny ability to make me feel energized, happy, and full of life, no matter what.  a few seconds of the haunting melody and the familiar rhythms of the drums, and i wanted to jump up and dance.  two of the instructors from my bellydance studio in dc were from colombia, and i´ve heard it´s pretty big here.  exhibit a: shakira.  i found a dance studio called prem shakti in botogá--another reason i was excited to be placed there.  i can´t wait to get started with classes!