Vegetarian in a Carnivore's World

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Trying to maintain my leaf-eating habits while in Colombia has been challenging to say the least.  My New York days of cucumber-kale juices and cranberry almond granola are long gone.  Meat plays an integral role in Colombian culture.  In fact, the town where I live has become known for the freshly made chorizos that are prepared and smoked a mere 3 blocks from my house.  If it’s not chorizo, its crispy chicharrón, costilla, res, cerdo…the list goes on.  Every time I sit down at a table, it’s a new celebration of meat…a party that I generally don’t choose to make an appearance at.  I’m no stranger to this situation.  While living in Tanzania for over 2 years, my protein options were even more limited.  On top of that, due to the exceedingly friendly and welcoming nature of Tanzanians, I often found myself invited to friends’ homes for food.  When a Tanzanian family buys freshly-slaughtered goat at 6 am in preparation for your lunchtime arrival, you eat the goat…even if its only the fat of the goat.  

I am fortunate enough here in Colombia to have more options, and since my stay in this country is closer to 2 months than 2 years, I decided I could try and maintain my vegetarianism.  The incredible woman who prepares all of our food has grown accustom to my alien ways, and always remembers to substitute the medley of meats out for a delicious fried egg (granted she may give me a questioning look of confusion as she sets the plate in front of me)…I know, I know.  All of you meat lovers are cringing at my failure to take advantage of the array of carnivorous opportunities that overwhelm my daily Colombian meals.  But what can I say?  I’ve always been more of a Little Foot than a T-Rex.  Meat’s just not for me.  Ben, if I could bring home all of the meat I’ve passed up for you,  I would, but I can’t.  I can assure you all that it doesn’t go to waste, and that a ravenous blood-thirsty Colombian child won’t fail to come along and reap the benefits of my vegetarianism.  

I recently traveled to the town of Supia for our Midterm Meeting.  I found myself out to lunch with my fellow IFPers.  Generally, a Colombian lunch will consist of a cup of juice, some kind of soup and then meat as the main dish.  Knowing that the kind lady who was taking our order was unaware of my aversion to cerdo, I asked if she could bring me a plate with everything except the meat.  After some confusion and further explanation from my fluent friend, Larissa, she agreed and walked away.  After we finished our vegetable soup, a different woman approached the table with multiple dishes in hand.  I saw that she was carrying my plate: a mountain of rice and beans, fried plantain, and a salad of cabbage, carrots and tomatoes.  I couldn’t wait.  I was starved.  She dropped the meaty plate in front of Dan to my left and proceeded to ask who ordered the plate “sin nada,” or roughly translated, “Who ordered the plate of nothing?”  Apparently if it didn’t use to have a face, it doesn’t count as food in Colombia.  I promptly raised my hand, and she begrudgingly set the meat-free plate in front of me as I smiled and thanked her.  It may have looked like nothing to a Colombian, but it was the most satisfying plate of nothing I’ve ever had.