Kill the Vegetarian (A Sort of Part Two)

This week's a bit of a continuation of last week's entry and about something I've been thinking about for some time, but have been a bit hesitant to bring up more than a handful of times, normally after some beer and guaro. But today, I'm coming clean.

There's no easy way to say this, Internet, so I'm just going to blurt it out: I'm questioning my vegetarianism. For those of you who don't know, I've been vegetarian for over twelve years. The original impulse was something natural, of feeling that something wasn't right, and over time, I explored that impulse to see what was under it and now have a whole range of reasons ranging from animal rights to world famine to personal health and environmental conversation. Even still, I've never advocated vegetarianism as a one size fits all lifestyle, especially for people with other dietary restrictions or for whom it would otherwise be legitimately unhealthy.

I was vegetarian through my whole time in Spain, despite the instance of many a Spaniard that it wasn't healthy or that "ham isn't meat." (Yeah, okay...) And here in Colombia, I've continued to not eat meat, but some things are throwing a bit of doubt into the mix... For example, last Friday, my department at the university had a big lunch with everyone as an end of the semester celebration, and while some professors were nice enough to talk to the waiter and try to get things sorted out, there was a course or two that I simply had to just skip. While I wasn't very bothered by this—it is my choice not to eat what they want to give me at a meal I'm not paying for—the stares I got were a bit unnerving. They all seemed to say, "Why isn't he eating? What's wrong with him?" I worry that it even comes off a bit snobbish or quasi-anorexic, which is bad when you're trying desperately to integrate into a culture. On one hand, it's like "Man up, Adam! You have principles, and you're standing by them! Who cares what they think?" But it's not just what they think that I care about so much. It's how much I'm missing out on. Food is such a big part of nation's culture, and I'm unable to partake in about eighty percent of it. The question is whether this is worth the life of another animal. Or, perhaps more to the point, what is worth the life of another animal?

Not to mention whether I could actually put that in my mouth.

I'm also a bit nervous about my health. Up till now, my health has not only been sufficient but thriving. There was some time in Spain where that wasn't true, but my dietary knowledge wasn't as good and there's always a general learning curve to locating good vegetarian food in any new place. Yet here in Colombia, it's different. While there are more vegetarians than in Spain, there is not more vegetarian food, especially vegetarian food at an affordable price. I've lost about sixteen pounds since I've moved here. Most of it seems to have been fat, so it's fine for now, but what am I going to do when I want to stop losing weight (which is soon)? It's a struggle to get in the recommended amount of protein for someone who lifts weights without too much fat or carbohydrates along the way. This leaves very few options for food throughout the day, and a diet without variety isn't normally a very good idea. (I should mention that it's higher than what's needed for the average, sedentary person. Most of you eat way more protein than you need.) I've also been sleeping a lot lately, which was the first sign back in Spain that something was not right about my diet, but this could have something to do with the 4:30 am wake up time for those 6 am French classes. Thank goodness I had my last one on Friday.

But the problem of my health is a legitimate one, and at what point has it affected me enough that I should switch? Is it when I can't support more muscle growth and therefore my health, while no longer equal to a meat eater's, is still sufficient to be "okay"? Is it when I sleep too much and lack energy? Is it when a basic metabolic panel comes back lacking in vitamin B or iron? Where is the line? I'm going to make an appointment with a doctor in January to start investigating once I'm back from Christmas break traveling. Meanwhile, if anyone wants to tell me how to run my life and what to eat, now's your free pass to speak your mind. I know some of you are absolutely dying to.

But for this limited time offer..... YOU CAN BE!

Kill yourself.

I've recently come to a realization on my journey to adapt to Colombian culture: I need to kill myself. No, no, no. I don't mean commit physical suicide but instead to commit suicide of the ego. Yeah, I know, so obvious, right? But it's one thing to understand this in words, as an intellectual concept, and another to know it by experiencing it. It’s like how I can tell you that in the vacuum of space no one can hear you scream and you get the idea, but you don't really get it until you're there, in a space suit, faced with an unspeakable horror that’s hungry for some hoomunn in its tum-tum.

Where is the tum-tum on this thing exactly?

Since the madness that was studying for the TCF has stopped, I've slowly been working back into a steady meditation schedule. I knew since I arrived that this was something I had to make time for more than ever, and at first, I did. But as life often gets in the way of life, it fell by the wayside in between the traveling, the four hours a day studying French, and the time consuming efforts of simply being a stranger in a strange land. But now that I've taken that test (and did better than I ever expected!), I'm free, and it’s time for it to become a priority again.

Meditation has always helped keep my mind in order. I have a tendency to overpower myself with my own thoughts: I create arguments in my head, relive memories (both pleasant and unpleasant), and can even sometimes experience psychosomatic pain if I imagine a potential injury too vividly. In short, my imagination is hardcore powerful, yo.

Unspeakable horrors await you in that darkened and forlorn place ...

This has its upsides. A powerful imagination leads itself to creativity and innovation, to storytelling and theatrics, to solutions for problems in life. The downside is that sometimes it can have a life of its own. When I started meditating, it became easier to see thoughts for what they are: They are to the brain as beats are to the heart. They have only as much substance as I give them, and their illusions are broken once you see what’s underneath them.

So what does this all have to do with overcoming culture shock? Well, since I’ve been meditating more, I’ve started to see through some of these recurring thoughts patterns. I’ve realized that a lot of these thoughts come from a place of, dare I say, entitlement. For example, when I’m walking down the street, and a group of people are coming the other way, I expect them to move to one half of the sidewalk so I can pass. This would be considered the well-mannered thing to do in the US. For the record, I think it’s considered the well-mannered thing to do here too, but the social pressure to do it seems a lot less. This desire and my subsequent anger or annoyance (whose severity depending on the day, weather, and whether the other person was cute or not) comes from a place of expecting them to do it, as if it were somehow unequivocally written into the fabric of the universe that people should move to let others pass. But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing that says that people have to or even should move for me. What objective means is there to say that they should move rather than I should wait? It’s nice that people do it, but no one says that they must. (Alternatively, no one says that you must take that exact path every day either.) How are these things decided other than by cultural norms, which ultimately are just patterns that emerged over time? The pattern to move out of the way when someone comes toward you showed a strong winning in the United States. In Colombia, not so much. And that simple is how the arepa de choclo crumbles

.

I’m doing my best to start to see things this way, to realize that what’s conscientious and mannerly to me has little to do with any sort of logic and all to do with the commonly accepted patterns of behavior in the United States. This is an imperfect process. I’m still not there. I still feel a very vivid mix of frustration, anger, and disillusionment when Colombians cancel plans an hour before we’re supposed to meet, show up an hour or two late without phoning or even just don’t show up at all. And believe me, I’d like to. This is probably the single biggest barrier to my making friends here because for me, the disrespect I see this as is nearly intolerable. But here, it’s not disrespectful; it’s normal. It’s how life works. And my choices are to poison myself with anger or take up the opportunity to cut through another layer of ego as I search for my original face.