In the rain we ate colombian. A grey Colombian soup for lunch, with bones Colombians like to gnaw. We put hot sauce in it–they do not. Aji, which stings the mouth and after which if you drink soda you only feel the crawl of the bubbles and taste absolutely nothing. With hot sauce the soup is like the sunlight on a landscape. With a good high table you stoop over your meal and eat, glancing around when you chew, your head swiveling on lowered neck. It is more authentic if you keep your coat on and occasionally grimace as you eat.
I watched a guy biting bits of potato from his spoon–a common technique. We had salad: thin sliced onion with thick sliced tomato. A salad consisting mainly of carrots, or mainly of onion is not uncommon. Better than eating the lettuce watered with the heavy metals from the Bogotá river. The pesticides and other modern ills are pretty bad in countries where the thing is regulated. Here it is not regulated, and you eat like a grinning skull.
We had guanabana juice: milky and with the fruit’s strings in it. We had rice on our plates, and potatoes, besides the salad and green beans, and we had meat. 9000, and when we were done, the rain had finished also.