Culinary/culinery Adventures

So, it's taken me about 5 minutes to decide on how i should spell the first word in the title. Honestly I haven't got a clue. So I've given up and decided instead to start writing in the more important larger box...

I've been here almost 60 days and in that time, I've had a few alimentary adventures. Here's four to start:

Observation 1: Tortillas, beans, rice and salsa. That’s the basis of every meal here. It's so predictable that it's worth saying again. Tortillas, beans, rice and salsa. Funnily enough, I'm not getting bored of it. I wonder what would happen if that was all they served at the Quinta (CICCU houseparty) or at Sizewell (SChapel houseparty)? That would make an interesting experiment. Whenever one of these ingredients is not included, I somehow feel like the food is less Mexican. How will I cope when I return to the salsa-less plains of Norfolk/Cambridgeshire? I guess i'll find out soon.

Observation 2: Salsa. It comes in three flavours. Hot, extra hot and explosive. Rumour has it that the latter type is being used by the Mexican army against the clandestine armies in the south of the country. Every mealtime the community centre staff delight to see our watering eyes and slightly pained expressions. Saul tells me that Mexicans can't cope with English mustard so this will be my counter-attack once i've returned home for supplies. We'll see if they can cope with 'hot' then.

Observation 3: Eating foreign food sometimes results in a gastro-intestinal phenomenon best described as 'Occasionally Inconsistent'. Todd coined that one. Say no more.

Observation 4: I don't like 'chicharon'. Vegetarians look away now. The particular case i'm referring to was pig's skin, all goose-pimply and dead, marinaded in something which is best described as vomit. No need for exagerration here - imagine drinking a litre of water, throwing it up and then using it to marinade pig's skin. Et voila: chicharon. The moment I smelt it I felt ill and Liz had to do all in her power not to chunder there and then. I managed about half of it by dousing it with copious amounts of salsa. The pain of the hot salsa removed any sense of taste from my mouth for the whole afternoon, leaving me queasy and with a runny nose. Lovely. Never again.