FOOD

Monday, November 28^th, 2011

In my room, at 7:21 PM

The other day, as I left the house in the morning, I glanced down at the “pet” chicken I had seen clucking around outside the house for the past two months. She was looking for food on the ground, and I felt kinda sad for the lonesome hen. At least she was able to walk around, and not stuck in some pen. Last night we had chicken soup, and the hen wasn't around anymore. The pregnant woman in our community (who is due in one month) had a check-up and the doctor said she should be eating more foods that provide energy. I think she needed to be eating more food in general; daal bhat can only go so far (at least in my opinion!). So her husband made chicken soup to support his wife and unborn child.

When I get antsy for some comfort food – aka “junk food” – I go to the nearest corner store and buy what is called Kurkure Masala Munch. Basically it's Cheetos with masala flavor instead of cheese flavor. Very tasty. And the best part is they're healthy for you! As I was inhaling my bag of Kurkure, I looked down and noticed that the bag said “Share Pack,” as it was one of those extra large smaller bags. I thought it a rather interesting marketing ploy. In America, it probably would have said something to the effect of “EXTRA BIG BAG MEANS MORE FOR YOU!” I like the Share Packs for more reasons than that they fit my big fat American appetite. I think the Share Packs are fitting for the culture here.

I pass a fruit stand almost every day as I walk through town, and as I walk by, the smell of the fresh fruit harvest cuts through all the pollution and sewage/trash odors, and floods my nose with good things. Many a time I have walked all the way past the stand, then like one of those old Warner Bros. cartoons, the scent practically turns me around and floats me pleasantly back to the stand with my eyes wide and my mouth watering. The man who has this spot is pretty damn lucky. He's probably been able to capture a lot of customers like me, who are just innocently strolling by.

I bought some fresh strawberries from him yesterday at “Nepali price.” (Along with some apples, and oranges, etc). When I was back at the house popping the strawberries into my mouth at the speed of light, the though occurred to me that maybe I could share some of my “share pack” of strawberries with the little children who live in the house. I gave one to Unika, Jema, and Nancy. A half hour later, I was surprised to see little Nancy, who is only 6, still nursing that one little strawberry I gave her. People in the so-called “developing world” really know how to make something good last.