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!

Culture Wars

"What's your favorite thing about Colombian culture?"

Someone asked me this recently, and I was like a deer caught in headlights. My brain worked overtime to try to come up with something, anything, just a little bit of some positive experience that I could grab a hold of and use.

Fortunately, someone mercifully changed the subject, and I was off the hot seat, but the experience stayed with me, and I kept thinking about it

I started to wonder: Do I in fact like nothing about Colombian culture? Though as soon as I posed myself this question, I felt its lack of truth. If I hated being in Colombia so much, why is it that I have no desire to leave?

Then I tried another line of questioning: What is Colombian culture? I had no idea how to answer that. How does one even begin to define a culture from nothing more than their own subjective experience? Considering the uniqueness of each successive experience in a day, how do I begin to organize them into data sets about which generalizations can be made? And is total objectivity even possible? Are we only able to say something is cultural by comparing it to our own?

For example, if I am in the mall, and people seem to be completely and utterly spatially oblivious, do I chalk that up to:a) Colombian culture?
b) a pan-cultural thing wherein everyone automatically forgets how to walk in malls?
c) a characteristic of Colombian culture that also, by chance, is similar to American culture?
d) or is the vividness of my frustration in these instances causing me to remember those more than all the times that someone actually acted like I existed and let me pass by without saying con permiso three times?

I started to really think about this the more I heard people try to discuss Colombian culture. It seemed that often someone would recount a particular instance and then end it with "Yeah, Colombians are really _____." Because I sometimes wish I were a mentat and can't help to automatically think about sets of premises and a conclusion in terms of what little training I have in logic, I realized that:

1) Ca (Ana is a Colombian.)
2) La (Ana arrives late.)
3) Ca>La (If Ana is Colombian, then Ana arrives late.)
∴ ∀x(Cx>Lx) (Therefore all Colombians arrive late.)

is a total fallacy. A "hasty generalization" to be precise, which is a fitting name.

I think part of the problem is that statements about culture tend to be too narrow. "X culture likes this," "X culture doesn't really eat that," and so on. The problem with these sorts of statements is that they don't leave a lot of room for an individual's manifestation of a particular cultural characteristic. It takes a lot more work, time, and compassion, but I think there's a way to rephrase these thoughts in a way that are not only free of judgement but allow them to maintain their truth as each individual in that culture expresses them in a certain way.

The problem with this is that it takes significant time to gather a lot of data and effort to think through it without falling prey to some sort of mental bias. And patience and work are things that humans are often adverse to. We'd much prefer to leave it as something simple and move on to the next thing. But I've come to penetrate Colombian culture, among other things, and this is my strategy.

Yeah, sorry...

It's something I'd recommend even within the United States, with all our different cultures trying to coexist peacefully and, truthfully, not doing to great of a job at it. This is how the capacity for empathy is built, little by little, and this is how I'll be able to one day not be so frustrated by all sorts of little things here. In fact, even just yesterday, I caught myself thinking, as I walked down Calle 5 from the mall to my home, "Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I am getting used to this after all."

So what is my favorite thing about Colombian culture? Maybe it's ability, more so than other cultures I've experienced, to challenge me to think about myself, to realize that perhaps I wasn't as open-minded and free-thinking as I used to believe I was, and it's gift of an opportunity to push those bounds a little farther.

Oh, and the food. I mean, an aborrajado with a jugo de mora en leche.... ♥...

Das poop

So remember when I said cultural adaptation tends to come from the little things that you don't expect rather than big ones that you can foresee? It's the little changes to your daily life that attack your sense of normality and make you really feel out of place. Things you take for granted. Like grilled cheese, ziplock bags, or pooping.

Yeah. You heard me. Pooping.

Allow me to explain.

For the first few days, I lived in blissful ignorance of how to properly poop here in Colombia, and I continued to do what I've always done: Feel nature's beeper buzz, go to the bathroom, [details deleted for a somewhat family friendly audience], grab a wad of toilet paper, clean myself, throw the toilet paper in the toilet (hence it's name), and then flush. This is not how you do it here in Colombia.

During orientation, I was informed that I've been doing it all wrong. And not just wrong like "they're all going to laugh at you," but I could have possibly clogged up some pipes, which is never a pleasant affair. The water pipes here in Colombia are not as wide as back home, and that gives the toilet paper a hard time when it goes through them. As it turns out, this little trashcan that I had never noticed before by all the toilets in every bathroom, public or private, is for that very purpose.

You put the toilet paper in the trash can.
(But I don't recommend drinking them both up.)

When I found this out, I was embarrassed. First because of the cultural and practical faux-pas, but then later when it came to actually doing it, to put my dirty toilet paper in the trash for all to see. I mean, it's like private. It's so private that it normally stays in my body where no one can see until it's ready and then I go in a small room by myself where no one can see it, and then dispose of it as fast as possible. I mean, not even I see too much of it. I also didn't want to broadcast to the world exactly how efficient or inefficient my digestive system was working. Let's suffice it to say that some days it ain't cute.

Will today be the day
it happens to me?

Perhaps related to this, many bathrooms don't have toilet paper in them. Or so I've been told. I haven't experienced this personally, but every time I'm in a new bathroom and don't think of this possibility till mid-act, fear pierces my heart, time stops, and I stick my hand into the dispenser wondering if this'll be the day that my number is up. Fortunately, so far, I've been okay. What I have experienced a lot of bathrooms not having are toilet seats. Yeah, toilet seats. In the US, when a toilet didn't have a seat, it normally was a bar, and I think the idea was that it was only supposed to be used for doing number one, and doing number two was discouraged, but here, I don't think that can be the case because... 1) There's toilet paper and 2) It's literally like every public restroom everywhere. I mean, is it a germ situation? Is it cheaper? Did one guy do it in an attempt to be avant garde and edgy, and everyone followed because toilet seats "weren't cool anymore"? I don't know. I also don't know what the typical Colombian does in lieu of not having a toilet seat. Squat? Perch? I'll spare telling you my personal solution. Maybe I'll start a survey and get back to you.

However, because to be human is to be adaptable, I'm already pretty used to all of this. So much so that when I had to visit the United States for my step-father's funeral, I kept hesitating over the garbage with my tissue before realizing I could put it in toilet and flush it. In fact, I overcame all embarrassment from the toilet paper-in-the-trash thing pretty quickly. Now it's just routine, which I suppose is ideal. I fold it over and then no one's embarrassed, no one has see it, and no one has to deal with a clogged toilet. Y vivimos felices y comimos perdices.

Vegetarian Food Hoarder

Hello, my name is Adam Wier, and I am a food hoarder.

Yes, you heard me right. Food hoarder. I hoard food and only food.

Here's the deal, mes amis. If you don't already know, I'm a vegetarian, and much like when I went to Spain, one of my biggest problems adapting here in Colombia is finding things to eat. Often times, locals aren't too much help. In both countries, vegetarianism hasn't really taken off like it has in other places in the West. So when I ask where I can get vegetarian food, I'm normally told that "such and such place has great salads!"

Seriously?!

How would you feel if I told you, "Oh, don't worry, we don't have any meat, but you can just have a salad!" I would be just as woebegone as you.

I can't speak for other vegetarians, but I know that I don't really eat primarily vegetables and fruits. I mean, I'm not angry at vegetables or fruits. If they happen to be in whatever I'm eating, that's great, they're allowed, they can stay here, but I mostly go for other stuff. Like dairy. Not that protein is really a problem for your average vegetarian (iron and B-12 might be a different story), but dairy products tend to be a good source of it. But that aside... you've like heard of cheese, right?!

Of course, I go for somethings that aren't really meat substitutes per se but are the staples of a thriving vegetarian diet. Tofu, seitan, tempeh, and other things that if you ask a person in a grocery store in Cali about, they'll look at you like you just asked them where the glardivarks are. (And I don't know what a glardivark is, so don't even ask. It's probably not a vegetable though.)

In any case, this week I made a breakthrough in finding food, which brought the situation from red alert to a cool green. As a warm up I found a vegetarian sandwich with seitan at my university's food court. And with a lot of help from my roommate Luisa, I found about a gazillion different flavors of tofu at Carulla. And then thanks to my adviser at the university, Roger, I found some seitan that's even cheaper than what's sold in the United States!

Thanks to fellow Fulbrighter in Bucaramanga,
Eddie, for the meme. Check out his blog at
http://ciudadanoglobalcitizen.blogspot.com/

So when I found this bounty, I did what any other animal facing the threat of starvation would do.... I stockpiled. And I did indeed pile a stock! When I looked at my bank account, I clutched my pearls for dear life. A decent chunk missing. Vegetarian food here is often a bit on the expensive side, and I eat a lot. Put the two together and you got trouble. There's no reason to worry. I still have plenty of money till pay day, but man, I felt it. I also have a full fridge. And that feels pretty good too, especially after SALADFEST 2014, also known as Fulbright orientation week (see left).

That brings us to this morning. As I was cooking some eggs for breakfast, I started trying to figure out the next time I could go to another store someone had recommended. Maybe after work today? Maybe tomorrow? I opened the door to get some milk to pour myself for and looked at all the food I had in there. Several bags of milk (not a vegetable), about thirty eggs (not vegetables), a few stacks of tofu (also not vegetables), arepitas con queso (still not vegetables), some olives (okay... vegetables), and a freezer with two large packages of seitan as well as a few other odds and ends (all, I assure you... not vegetables). Enough food for a few weeks at least. I had no business buying more. And that's when I realized it: I'm a food hoarder.

And with that came the sudden realization of why. And of how freaked out I am. About everything. Because that's how it is when you're a stranger in a strange land. And stuff like that hits you especially hard when it encroaches on something so vital and familiar to you as your eating habits. Amassing food was a means to feel in control again, to feel like I've got something under wraps, to think that everything's going to be okay, and that life will begin to find a bit of regularity and familiarity again. And it is, but the thing is buying all the tofu and seitan and whatever in the country isn't going to make that happen faster. It'll come with time, and that's all there is to it. We should never underestimate the wonderful ability of humans to adapt to their surroundings, no matter how much the environment might change, but we have to have the confidence to give that ability the space and time to work. So, tonight, there are no more shopping trips, no more searching, nothing. Just eating some good food in my new home...

...and some anime.