Fish

Going to Guatemala this past summer brought me in contact with a fish that I wish I could forget. Now I wish that I could say this fish was magical and caused all my hopes and dreams to come true, but it didn't. I didn't even get sick eating it. However, what did happen was I ate a fish in a soupy broth. Now as we were sitting at the table unable to discuss our thoughts with our hosts, my eyes glazed upon at the sight of eyes gazing up at me. 

Let me explain that unlike watered down American culture, the Guatemalans still have their roots, and that means eating things the way God meant them to be eaten fried or stewed over a three-pronged pot, fueled by fire over an open stove. Now when you talk character, you can mention shoveling your walk or mowing your lawn, but this is true character building. Sleeping in a hammock and eating with the natives is the best way to live.

We wandered around the village and tasted coca beans off trees that they grow for cash crops. Most of their food is made in a dark red broth and they but everything in it. Their main course is tortillas and the other food is just an additive. We drank coo lade made with water that they boiled for us, but they drink it plain or coffee.