Two Stops Past Siberia

Never, in all my traveling, have I had something I couldn’t swallow. Testicles, intestines, little baby birds, dog, yak Momos (complete with bone chips,) rancid Yak Butter Tea and its consistency of hot snot – most of these things, in fact, I’ve rather liked.

To be perfectly honest, the intestines were kinda like calamari, the testicles were flavorless, the little baby birds were pleasantly crunchy, the dog was incredibly well seasoned (and called “steak”), the Momos were so thick and hearty it felt good just knowing you were eating them (despite having to spit out the bones,) and I’m sure the Yak Butter Tea I had was only the sissy foreigner’s version.
See, the thing I’ve found traveling is that your experience with food can be telltale to the depth of your experience in general. In the country I’ve spent longest, China, It took months before I got some really bad Chinese food. But here in Kyrgyzstan I’ve had the great fortune of being offered food I don’t like after only 3 weeks!

But let’s take a step back for a minute. There are plenty of foods in the States I don’t like. I’m sure there are for all of us. But if you were just coming to America for a visit, you’d probably only stop at nice restaurants, and only at people’s houses who would feed you well. On such a visit, you’d be experiencing, by choice, a Disneyland of America, one that catered to your desires.
But that’s not really what I look for here in Kyrgyzstan, and that’s why yesterday was so wonderful.

So my little sister came home with a 2-inch piece of thick white sidewalk chalk. But it wasn’t chalk, you see, it was some sort of candy. I’d seen neighborhood kids eating it before; a treat they sell at my family’s little corner store. They’d break off little pieces of it and pop them while playing in the street.

This time my sister still had some when she got home, and offered me a bit. As soon as this thing entered my mouth, it was sensory overload. I imagine it is some sort of dairy product – it had the texture of wet chalk, and tasted like sweat. I coughed and gagged and my eyes started to water; my sister giggled, and feigned distress. As a courtesy, I hid the thing under my tongue while she inspected my mouth. Then we chased each other around the yard until we were both tired, when I snuck off somewhere quietly to spit the stuff out.

The fact that I have now had some food that really challenges my senses signifies to me that my Kyrgyzstan amusement park may be beginning to end. It tells me the people are connecting with me, trusting me, showing me their more curious delights. At this point, it isn’t about the flavor of the food, it’s about the flavor of the people – and it is with that flavor that I am agreeing quite well.

Originally Written April 22nd, 2009