Spicy? Don't Ask the Indians...

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If you know me-- and I mean if you reeeeally know me-- then you understand that I have an extremely low tolerance to spicy food.  I mean, incredibly low.  Surprisingly low.  Astonishingly low. You'd think with this special weakness I would know who to trust and who not to trust when it comes to gauging the spiciness of a given food.  Sadly, I'm still learning.  For example:  In Mexico, who did I ask when I wanted to know if something was spicy?  The Mexicans!  Bad idea.  In India, who do I ask to know if the food is spicy?  The Indians!  What am I thinking?!?!

Today, however, I felt that I could truly trust the Indians for once.  I had made special plans to eat breakfast with the students for the very first time.  I usually make breakfast for myself, so this was to be a special day.  I made sure to pick a day that serves the students favorite breakfast meal :)  The meal includes idli (a special rice bread thing), and then some sort of topping that I actually don't know how to describe it... but it's similar to the red stuff in the picture above, haha.

I entered the dining hall and was immediately greeted by several students.  The air was filled with sounds of laughter and friendly conversations.  It was also thick with the additional humidity that hangs around after a rainy night.  I could sense delicious smells coming from the kitchen area, and I became more excited to eat!  As I greeted more students, however, I listened to one girl complain about how spicy the food was.

And Indian complaining about the spiciness of a food??  Is that possible??  I had to ask this girl to clarify her statement a few times before I could let it sink in:  I had picked the worst day to come.  The meal they had wasn't supposed to be that spicy, but today it was!

You'd think that I'd run away from this.  I could trust the food would indeed be spicy-- spicy enough for an Indian to complain!  But I made a deal with myself, and I couldn't back out.  I was going to try it.

Even in this moment, late into the evening, I don't know how I survived.  I don't know how my heart didn't stop, right there in the dining hall.  I'm amazed that I still have the digestive track!  My eyes cried tears of pain and utter shock; my nose ran like Niagara Falls; my insides felt like a colony of fire ants had found a new home...

But I survived.  Tender mercy.

My rule of thumb is to still avoid asking Indians if a food is spicy or not.  However, if you get word that an Indian thinks a food is spicy, you'd best believe them!!



Side Note That's Totally Unrelated: 
Classes are going really well!  I feel like I don't write about my classes as much as I probably should... It's a really blessing to work with these kids.  I'll be honest-- some classes feel like complete chaos!  Other classes, though, amaze me.  As I learn more about the students, my sense of wonderment towards their souls and general potential increases.  In one moment, I think one class is my favorite.  Then I teach another class, and I change my mind!  Every class has my heart.  

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