“Oh, it’s simple! When you boil the rice, all the bugs just simply float to the top of the water. I skim them off and keep cooking. My kids never know!”
With a group of ladies, a comment like would usually leave the speaker surrounded by an appauled audience and a guarenteed topic of gossip in the future. There may have even been a furitive glance or two from the guilty chef.
But we all know that being an ex-pat certainly changes things. In fact, the truth behind the bugs is that all of the women agreed that little buggy friends are in everything and you either deal … or you don’t. The bugs don’t much care.
Yesterday, I tried to explain to the staff at a store called Goodie’s what salsa is. Have you ever tried to explain salsa? Throw into the mix that, generally, no one can truly understand what I’m saying. Must. Develop. Nigerian. Accent.
“It is tomatoes (say Toe MAH toes- that helps them understand) and onions and a sauce. And they’re diced. (Karate chopping action). Chopped. Small pieces? And you dip chips into it. (Chip dipping motion) And it’s hot. Well spicy because it’s usually cold. Um..”
And then we each spend a few moments blinking at each other.
Life at the hotel makes it a different ex-patriate experience completely. First off, we have no bugs in any of the food we eat. Try reading that with a straight face. I could barely type it without chuckling.
On Sunday, I went to the buffet. I ordered pasta (By the way, I walked up and Pasta Guy winked at me and started making my order. He forgot to add sauce, but you know, it was ncie that he remembered me…sorta). So I cut myself some bread, brought it to the table and sat down. A few minutes later, I went to retrieve my pasta. I brought the pasta back, and my bread was gone. I went to cut myself some bread again and brought it back. My pasta was gone.
I believe in the power of comedy. With that being said, I decided to carry my bread with me while I ordered my pasta again. Wouldn’t want to give the other guests too much to chuckle about.
