Yesterday we celebrated our own 4th of July (it was actually the 3rd, but it was the best we could do) by having a BBQ in the park. This time Roxie had all of our plans colored coded in an excel spreadsheet (which I didn’t read and was reprimanded for!). We didn’t have fireworks, but at least we had good food (and an abundance of rice). I was specifically told to make rice for 19 people and of course only one serving of it was actually eaten and I think that was just someone being nice. One of the guys showed me how he had taken some of it: “See, I’m having some, Jen.” I looked and he had taken a small sympathy spoonful. I knew no one was going to eat that stuff. Rice is like that side dish that you eat last because there isn’t anything else good leftover…or, if you are vegetarian like me. So now I have rice for 18 people sitting in my refrigerator.
I love how whenever I go to events that involve eating that people assume because I’m a vegetarian, I can be satisfied by just eating some lettuce. “Oh, there will be something there for you to eat,” is usually the response I get and usually it’s like a piece of cheese or something that someone pulls out of the refrigerator at the last minute.
Vegetarian food here has no imagination. In the States, a Vegetarian sandwich (commonly called the “health sandwich” as my friend always likes to point out and laugh at – this could just be a California thing) has things like avocado and sprouts and other vegetables carefully chosen for the perfect combination, on some kind of thick toasted wheat bread usually with seasonings and flavor. The sandwich actually has weight to it and some creativity. Here, it’s like someone bought a bag of plain white wonder bread and cut up a tomato and put some pieces of canned corn or other such flavorless vegetables inside it. It feels as if the chef took their inspiration from cleaning out the refrigerator and figuring they could either throw the stuff in the dog’s bowl or make a sandwich. No taste, no thought…It just sucks. No one can fathom a meal without some kind of beef or chicken or pork. The other day I ordered what was called “The Vegetarian” from a small restaurant in between classes. I only had a vague idea of what that consisted of and assumed it was a salad of some sort, but I was perplexed when I opened up the box while I walked down the street and noticed there was a heap of chicken on top. I took the box back and explained that there must be some mistake and so the guy just opened the box and grabbed all of the chicken and gave the box back to me. Needless to say, I make most of my food at home.
I declined meat from one of the guys at the BBQ yesterday, telling him that I don’t eat meat and he didn’t hesitate to inform me that “that will change if you stay here,” but I have news for him; it won’t.
I haven’t eaten meat in almost 7 years now. I try not to be a pain in the ass about it, but it’s been so long without meat that, I’m sorry, but I’m probably not going to start eating the stuff again at this point, no matter how much people try to tell me I need more protein and no matter how much I try to tell people I have my own sources of protein. All I know is that my body feels much better without it and I rarely get sick anymore as opposed to before.
It’s funny to me how some people respond when I tell them I don’t eat meat. Some people actually get quite defensive and edgy about it. It’s strange to me. It’s just food. My mom tends to react this way and always adds “well, we eat meat here,” (referring to her and my dad) as if my decision is an attack on them. She used to take it very personally in the beginning, insisting that I can eat her chicken, as if I had to choose between vegetarianism or my family. Mostly, I think it’s just that she doesn’t appreciate her own lifestyle being challenged by her own kid. And that’s why she has a tendency to announce to a roomful of people that her daughter doesn’t eat meat, and then she kind of waits around to see if anyone will join her in agreement of criticizing my highly “defiant” act that doesn’t jive with her own cooking. It doesn’t matter how many years go by, my parents still react to me like I am 15 years old and trying to purposely disobey them by getting part of my body pierced. Alas, I’m the youngest and I will never be seen as an adult.
My friend from the US recently sent me a box of foods and other odd things I am missing here. The package included things like real organic peanut butter and organic cheese puffs which were all eaten in the first day of receiving the package. Only in the US would they actually make cheese puffs organic. And they do it just for people like me who claim to be all health conscious and assume…organic = healthy. Its cheese puffs for god’s sake.
I want organic refried beans to be in his next package. He thinks this is an unusual request. He assumes that Chile must be the same as Mexico and he can’t wrap his head around the fact that beans aren’t a big deal down here. I miss Mexican food. Its not the same here and you can’t get beans in a can here without paying $4 and finding them at the giant grocery store across the city. I don’t have the time and patience to always soak beans and make a dinner that takes 2 days when it normally only took me ten minutes in the States.
(So instead of paying $4, I make my friend pay $50 to send them from the US). I know it really doesn’t make any sense.
We actually had warmer weather yesterday and so it was nice to be in the park and actually be able to be without a coat for part of the day. Recently, it rained and so all of the mountains surrounding the city are now covered in snow:
My personal favorite…thanks to yoga…..
Yes, we shamelessly painted our faces:
After the BBQ, the guy who is convinced that I will eat meat again, gave me a ride home. I pleaded: Please don’t make me ride the metro home (alone) with an American flag painted on my face…my poor non-meat eating self is bound to get into some kind of trouble!
In the spirit of the 4th of July, this morning I gave one of my more advanced students a reading about the holiday from the New York Times called “Red, White and Blue and Many Other Colors.” It was a sentimental article complete with quotes from the National Anthem about immigrants coming into the harbor in New York City for the first time and gazing at the Statue of Liberty. The writer ended the article saying “God bless all of you on this great day and god bless America,“ and of course this made both of us laugh immediately. I left his office and his last words to me were: “God bless!” while my other advanced student drew an arrow on his copy of the article and added “South” to “God Bless America.” My less advanced student just looked at me, confused and asked “What’s a firecracker?”
