Finally I have time to sit and blog again after a ten day vacation in which we had a visitor from my hometown. I love having visitors because I get to see Ecuador through their eyes, like I'm also seeing it for the first time. Through them, I see how cool this country is. I also learn that visitors aren't shy about magnifying all the quirks and idiosyncrasies about where we live. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I realize how jaded I've become and complacent with the trials of everyday life. For instance I realize the level of sanitation in kitchens aren't up to par with US standards. So do I avoid all restuarants and decline any dinner invitation that comes my way for the fear of getting dysentery? No, I enjoy the flavors of Ecuador (though there are not many) with my mouth wide open. (And I never forget to pack my Ecuadorian version of Alka-Seltzer in my purse just in case.) My visitors, meanwhile, ask "Are you really going to eat that?"
One example of the food topic we encountered while Seth was here was that of eating worms. No, silly, not Gummi Worms. Real, live, wiggly, jiggly (more like undulating) worms, as pictured above. Once a week, we have a helper who comes and cleans and cooks for us. Her name is Lola, she's a beautiful native Kichwa who lives in the midst of the jungle, and she has become one of my best friends here. Well, knowing that Seth would be there during her weekly visit, she thought it would be funny to play a joke on him. That in itself is why she is one of my best friends. As lunchtime rolled around she started preparing really good-smelling treats. Seth's mouth was starting to water and he couldn't wait to try her bolos de verdes soup. She placed a spoon in front of him. Then a napkin. Then a delicious glass of fresh juice. Then his soup was served. The soup she had given us was normal, but in Seth's bowl she had put a chicken head just beneath the surface of the broth. He actually didn't freak out, but in a serious tone he asked if it was an iguana head. We fished it out of his bowl as we laughed and fed it to some starving dogs outside.
Next was the "main course". She brought over a closed plastic container to the table. With slow mysterious moves, she unveiled what looked like live maggots the size of fat baby carrots. They were crawling all over each other like wrestlers in a fight-cage. The dare was on. Joe promised Lola he would eat one. I promised Joe I would eat one if he ate one. And we ordered Carlie to eat one if we would eat one. Seth vowed to do nothing except get it on video.
Lola made her way to the gas stove after cleaning the worms in fresh water. After heating up the oil sufficiently over the high blue flame, she threw the wriggling worms in the pan-- surely the worst form of animal cruelty ever. Within seconds, the worm skins started to pop open and sizzle. Guts oozed and turned brown and crispy in the grease. The air began to smell like a greasy road-side diner. And just like that, plates were served. Joe, Carlie and I, after cutting the crunchy black heads off, all lived up to our promises. Seth almost fainted.
The worms, something I would probably never eat again, tasted vaguely like sausage or beef jerky. Not too horrid. But how many people can actually say they have eaten fried worms? We all raised our juice glasses and shouted "Sacharuna!", which in Kichwa loosely translates to 'wild jungle man'. Actually, Carlie and I would be Sachawaurmi, the female jungle Jane. Eating fried worms was definitley my highlight of Seth's visit. Seth says his highlight was going on a class III rafting trip with Joe and the guys in the middle of the night.
Yes, having visitors come see how we live life here in the jungle south of the equator is really quite interesting.
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| We ate these worms, called Chontacurros, for lunch last week. |
Next was the "main course". She brought over a closed plastic container to the table. With slow mysterious moves, she unveiled what looked like live maggots the size of fat baby carrots. They were crawling all over each other like wrestlers in a fight-cage. The dare was on. Joe promised Lola he would eat one. I promised Joe I would eat one if he ate one. And we ordered Carlie to eat one if we would eat one. Seth vowed to do nothing except get it on video.
Lola made her way to the gas stove after cleaning the worms in fresh water. After heating up the oil sufficiently over the high blue flame, she threw the wriggling worms in the pan-- surely the worst form of animal cruelty ever. Within seconds, the worm skins started to pop open and sizzle. Guts oozed and turned brown and crispy in the grease. The air began to smell like a greasy road-side diner. And just like that, plates were served. Joe, Carlie and I, after cutting the crunchy black heads off, all lived up to our promises. Seth almost fainted.
The worms, something I would probably never eat again, tasted vaguely like sausage or beef jerky. Not too horrid. But how many people can actually say they have eaten fried worms? We all raised our juice glasses and shouted "Sacharuna!", which in Kichwa loosely translates to 'wild jungle man'. Actually, Carlie and I would be Sachawaurmi, the female jungle Jane. Eating fried worms was definitley my highlight of Seth's visit. Seth says his highlight was going on a class III rafting trip with Joe and the guys in the middle of the night.
Yes, having visitors come see how we live life here in the jungle south of the equator is really quite interesting.
