Monthly Archives: July 2011

What You Get Isn’t Always What You See

I am a very picky eater. A difficult thing for a guy who loves to eat in restaurants. An especially difficult thing hopping from strange country to strange country with strange foods. Strange, of course, to me – the visitor. As foreigners we sometimes gag at things others eat. Food can stir up such emotions. Just spend a moment with a vegan.

My palate has grown more adventurous as my travels have increased. I will now try any local weird food, but the weirder the smaller the bite.  Guinea pig (they call it cuy) in Ecuador or Peru? Okay, but just a sliver. I didn’t say my taste buds were wild and carefree 🙂

So today, that taste for food adventure emerged. A hankering for something different for lunch. So out into the wilds of foodland I went in search of some local fare, perhaps some mean cuisine with a twist and a bit of flair. I walked to the center of Calama, Chile, where there’s a concentration of restaurants, looking at menu after menu. Nothing struck me. I made my way back across town in the direction of a particular restaurant that seemed to have some local items. I ordered an Italian cappuccino and asked the server to give me another minute to decide what to eat. Impatient, she gave me a half-minute. I asked for another minute, please. She stepped aside, but hovered. Feeling rushed, I couldn’t decide what to order. None of the items on the menu sungO Mio Babbino Caro to me. When that happens I’ve struck upon a heavenly delight.

[Impatient server moving closer] Okay. I think I will really go wild: how about a Caesar salad? Yep, a Caesar. This is what it looked like:

Caesar salad? Really?

So much for adventure today. But what’s with all this cheese in my Caesar? Under that thick layer of yellow was just lettuce and a few chicken strips. Mustard on the side. Croutons on the perimeter. Okay. You are not in your homeland. Things are done differently elsewhere, I reminded myself. Dig in!

Well, not bad with the spiced up mustard added. And the chicken hidden below the cheese was cooked to perfection. So, too, I gather, was the long strip of hair I found as I went for another bite. This is what I found:

A little bit of pepper, a dash of paprika, a pinch of salt, a strand of hair...

Well, I did have a taste for something exotic, didn’t I? Brunette? Hmmm…yum!

I calmly put down my fork and called over the server nearest to me. My impatient server had gone AWOL. When she reappeared, the other server whispered in her ear – presumably not sweet nothings, but the problem at Table 9. She came over and offered to make me a new salad – yeah, right, I’m going to fall for that fresh plate of salad trick – or order something else. Well, I think I’m done eating, thank you. I’ve suddenly lost my taste for food adventure. Then again, on the way over here I think I saw a McDonald’s.

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==================== Give Me A Break ==================== Or Take A Hike!

My faithful hiking boots demand and get a holiday

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The Office

FLOATING THE IDEA: A Cejar Lagoon visitor who made me smile

As I sat on the edge of the lagoon away from the tour buses and hordes of people that had just arrived, with the vast Atacama Desert before me, the base of the snow-covered Andes Mountain range a sandy road away, the dominant Licancabur Volcano casting its massive shadow, and Bolivia just on the other side, the question came to me: Can I ever return to an office job after this? I don’t think I can was my answer. And it’s not a matter of not wanting to, but simply not being able to. My brain won’t let me. It worked for me before, but now I would likely go utterly mad in such confinement.

I’ve worked in an office all my life, living in that box someone thought it would be best to call it anything but a box. How about a cubicle? That has a nicer ring, doesn’t it? A box connotes restriction – quashed creativity. A cubicle is limitless. For me it was fine. We do what we have to do to survive. Sometimes what society dictates. But that was then…this is…now here I am soaking my restless feet in the salt water Cejar Lagoon, locked in on the beauty of the Andes, in an impressive desert, and if I tune out those pesky tourists long enough, the only sound I hear is that voice in my head that tells me do this for the rest of my life. To heck with deadlines and office politics and bullshit from people whose entire world is a commute between home and the office. Make this your office, the voice tells me. And…I’m listening.

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