1. One morning this past week, we needed to make a trip to the Mall to do some due diligence. The trip was relatively unproductive, but we were able to get some information. On our way out of the mall, we decided to hail a taxi to take us home. This is always a chore outside the mall, because due to the amount of foot traffic, there is high volume of taxis on the road - each hoping to score their next customer. So one has to walk among the various autos negotiating until finding the right fit. Well, our second try gave us a decent price. The driver was a young man of mid-twenties driving a silver mid-sized Sudan. On the way back to our office, he was driving somewhat erratically, trying to accelerate very quickly and pass cars with very little space. Repeatedly, he would accelerate quickly, only to brake just as fast when he realized he wouldn't make the tiny gaps. It wasn't until near the end of the ride that I was leaning on the left rear door, that I noticed something near the steering wheel. Could is possibly be...? Yes, in fact, it was an opened beer can! I chuckled in disbelief and hoped we would make it back ok. I should mention here that I never saw the guy actually take any drinks, and it is possible the can could have been empty from before, or acting as a coin jar... who knows? Luckily, we arrived safely where I mentioned the item to Douglas and Elena. Good thing we can just laugh about it.
2. Kitty corner to our house is a three story building that houses a popular restaurant. Many times as we are walking by in the evening, I notice how many cars are parked on the street, and the number of people eating inside. I often asked myself, "What is this restaurant? The food has got to be so good to constantly be packed like this. We should come here to try it out." Well, finally on Thursday, we made the decision to walk the twenty yards and enter the popular establishment. As per usual, the place was so crowded, there weren't any open tables on the second or first floor (we tried upstairs first). So we approached the counter and asked the woman working there if there were any open tables and if we could see the menu. She responded by saying that they only served one thing -- Platters of Mollejitas. I was shocked. I didn't know what to say, so we said thank you and walked out. When we were out of earshot, I let loose to Douglas my disbelief. Not three weeks earlier, I had ordered my first plate of Mollejitas out of curiosity, not knowing what it was. One bite ensured me never wanting to eat it again. Yet we still didn't know what it was. A quick search on the internet informed us that Mollejita refers to a popular Peruvian dish of chopped chicken gizzard, "an organ found in the digestive track of [chickens]...constructed of thick, muscular walls is used for grinding up food; often rocks are instrumental in this process." How was it possible this upscale restaurant near our house served only one dish of chicken gizzard and consistently attracted numerous clients? It's just one of those cultural differences.
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