Friday, January 2, 2009

So much food

I'm running through the streets of Fort Cochin. My body is about to collapse but I won't let it. I know that the pain that I'm feeling in my gut is a good pain. It's the pain of hunger. I haven't eaten since this morning. Even then I didn't eat a lot. A slice of grapefruit and some bread is all I allowed myself.

I don't starve myself because I think I'm too fat. I don't exercise incessantly because I'm training for some uber hard long-distance death-a-thon. No. My behavior is necessary to survive. It's a war and my life and honor is at stake.

I'm starving myself in an effort to make room for the copious amounts of food that I'm going to be forced to eat come dinner time. The owners of the home stay that my mom and I are staying at are amazing people. They are good hosts and seem to really care about their guests. But, like all heroes/hosts they have one tragic flaw. For Achilles it was his Achilles' Tendon (Was there even an Achilles tendon before Achilles?). For the Patrick's (our host family) it's their inability to watch a foreigner not eat. Maybe they just assume that all Americans do is eat. But whatever the reason the result is always the same.

Mrs. Patrick cooks some delicious dinner. My mom and I sit down, ready to enjoy it. They serve us. We say thank you. We eat the food on our plate. They serve us again. We say thank you. We eat the food on our plate. They serve us again. We say thank you. We eat the food on our plate.

Repeat.

Finally by the third or fourth round we are gasping for air. Rice and eggs are dribbling out of our mouths. We can barely see. We croak out "No more thank you so much. Very good. We are very full, very full." Then they say, " No problem! Eat slowly!" (With a huge smile) and serve us again (Somehow eating slowly allows you to eat more food).

The continual pushing of food is sweet. I am usually very hungry. But there is something about it that bothers me. I feel like saying "Dammit no! I'll eat when I want to! Leave me alone!" The important thing is to remember that this is a different culture. In America it would be rude to ignore your guest's pleas for no more food. But in India it is different. I'm not sure just exactly how it's different but it is.

I feel kind of like an explorer. Every day we discover new roads and new foods. But we also discover new aspects of the culture we are immersed in. Slowly but surely we will begin to piece together the do's and don'ts of India. We will never know them all, but hopefully by the end of our trip we will have a better sense of what is appropriate behavior.

This kind of thing can't be learned by reading about India. You have to go and experience it.

Maybe in a month we will know why the Patrick's forced so much food on us. But for now all we can do is shut up and eat.

1 comment:

Terri said...

You are an amazing journalist Eli. I was totally drawn in by your introduction as to why you had to starve yourself!! Heehee. I feel so extremely blessed to be reading about this journey from your Mom's perspective ,and then jump over here and read yours. Amazing!! Really looking forward to reading what Amma said in your ear!!!!