A quick one. Back in Cuernavaca (I'm in Taxco now, which is so much better) it was always such a pain trying to get food. Well I had spent a whole day climbing up and around these pyramids on just the 2/3 of a mango that Fanny, my 80 yearold landlady, always gives me in the morning. When I finally got back to town (after waiting 2 hours for a bus that supposedly runs every half hour) it was late enough that I had to hurry and take my minibus home where there are lots and lots of cheesy ceramic animal shops, but not a lot foodwise. I was so exhausted, but I was also so hungry I kind of slumped around town looking for food. Finally I found a restaurant open and I was so happy. I sat down and they handed me a menu and since I didn't understand any of it I just pointed to something and hoped for the best.
So the waitress brought me a bowl of basically hot chicken water with a few sad carrot slices and cilantro leaves. At the point I started to wonder if maybe I had ordered a meal, like the people next to me and like I've had before here--where they give you little courses and soup is the first course. Afterall I think I pointed to something on the menu involving chicken and surely that meant whatever it was had to actually have some chicken in it. So my dilemma was do I eat all my soup and lots of the free tortillas, assuming this will be my only meal, or do I just eat a little and hope this is only the first course. (You would think I had another option, which is try and figure it all out with the waitress, but my exhaustion and the 80mph spanish of the waitress at this point wouldn't let me).
In the end that sad soup was the only thing I got and if I had known I would have at least eaten all my free tortillas.
That's the whole story. I think Pat and I had very similar experience one hungry, and frustrating, night in Zanzibar. Yeah for world travel and confusion.
1 comment:
Pobresita! (or something like that).
Post a Comment