Finally...the sixth and final installment in the saga of my first cross-cultural mission experience. To get caught up on the whole sordid story, visit these previous posts:
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One
fear that many travelers express is the relative
quality and exotic nature of the local cuisine. It’s one thing to sleep on an
air mattress on a dirt floor, or have to push your vehicle out of a muddy
mountain trail, but being asked to eat onion sandwiches or boiled slug stew can
push some people over the edge.
The
good news for us on our first trip to Panama was that we were offered a very
tasty chicken and rice dish for every meal.
The
bad news for us on our first trip to Panama was that we were offered a very
tasty chicken and rice dish for every meal.
Seriously…we
ate so much chicken and rice…one of the members of our group started
involuntarily scratching the ground with his feet and clucking.
Fortunately,
the food settled well with everyone and contrary to anyone’s expectations there
wasn’t a single incident of Montezuma’s Revenge during the whole trip.
Until…
Having
completed our ten days of digging ditches and teaching Bible lessons through an
interpreter, we drove the six hours back to Panama City. On our way to the
airport we passed a Domino’s Pizza. Without warning or collusion, all twelve of
us shouted, “Stop the van!”
That
pepperoni and sausage never tasted so good…nor moved so fast through each and
every one of us.
Sure
made the flight home…um…interesting.
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