I had a dream last night that didn't make much sense to me.
I was down on the Mexican border for some reason, so I crossed the border into some small Mexican town and wandered around. I saw a cafe and decided to stop in for lunch, as I recognized the restaurant as one I had heard people speak of fondly back on the U.S. side of the border. I was greeted warmly in English by the proprietor; I seated myself and told him to order for me.
The first things brought to me by one of the waiters were a very small fried fish, a chocolate-coated cracker, a tiny cup of something sweet and syrupy, and a small glass of water. I tasted a bit of each and then took a sip of water, only to remember the admonition, "don't drink the water"! A waiter had sat down beside me, and I asked him, "Camarero, que bebidas hay?", and he answered in rapid-fire Spanish, too fast for me to understand; then he pointed to a drink dispenser at the along the far wall. I couldn't see it very well through the lunchtime crowd and the mass of scurrying waiters. "Hay Coca-cola?" I asked, and he shook his head, and I could just make out a Pepsi logo on the fountain. I walked up to the wall and couldn't find the fountain that I'd seen from across the room.
Frustrated and thirsty, I sat down again at my table, whereupon the cafe owner appeared carrying a larger fried fish, hot out of the fryer, in his bare hands, wincing in pain from the hot oil. He sat it on the table, and before I could eat it, a waiter appeared with a large plate of something mysterious, that clearly had been prepared in hot oil, and the dish was sputtering, splattering hot oil drops on me and the waiter. I thought it would cool down but it didn't; it continued to splatter me and the table with drops of hot oil for some time.
I asked the owner what the dish was; "Fried ants", he replied. "We raise them in an old toilet bowl out back", he continued, and pointed out through the rear of the cafe, through the kitchen, which was open to the outside. Apparently this dish was the house specialty. So I looked closely into the dish, and sure enough, it contained thousands of writhing ants in hot spicy oil. I lifted up a spoonful and tasted the dish. The ants were delicate and in fact pretty tasty.
There was a bit more to the dream but I can't remember the ending.
I was down on the Mexican border for some reason, so I crossed the border into some small Mexican town and wandered around. I saw a cafe and decided to stop in for lunch, as I recognized the restaurant as one I had heard people speak of fondly back on the U.S. side of the border. I was greeted warmly in English by the proprietor; I seated myself and told him to order for me.
The first things brought to me by one of the waiters were a very small fried fish, a chocolate-coated cracker, a tiny cup of something sweet and syrupy, and a small glass of water. I tasted a bit of each and then took a sip of water, only to remember the admonition, "don't drink the water"! A waiter had sat down beside me, and I asked him, "Camarero, que bebidas hay?", and he answered in rapid-fire Spanish, too fast for me to understand; then he pointed to a drink dispenser at the along the far wall. I couldn't see it very well through the lunchtime crowd and the mass of scurrying waiters. "Hay Coca-cola?" I asked, and he shook his head, and I could just make out a Pepsi logo on the fountain. I walked up to the wall and couldn't find the fountain that I'd seen from across the room.
Frustrated and thirsty, I sat down again at my table, whereupon the cafe owner appeared carrying a larger fried fish, hot out of the fryer, in his bare hands, wincing in pain from the hot oil. He sat it on the table, and before I could eat it, a waiter appeared with a large plate of something mysterious, that clearly had been prepared in hot oil, and the dish was sputtering, splattering hot oil drops on me and the waiter. I thought it would cool down but it didn't; it continued to splatter me and the table with drops of hot oil for some time.
I asked the owner what the dish was; "Fried ants", he replied. "We raise them in an old toilet bowl out back", he continued, and pointed out through the rear of the cafe, through the kitchen, which was open to the outside. Apparently this dish was the house specialty. So I looked closely into the dish, and sure enough, it contained thousands of writhing ants in hot spicy oil. I lifted up a spoonful and tasted the dish. The ants were delicate and in fact pretty tasty.
There was a bit more to the dream but I can't remember the ending.
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