-^-for posterity-^-

fitting.

i went and ate dog less than a week before i go home. i’ve been forging relationships with my friends here and this is how we celebrate.

i remember the first time i ate dog meat. it was at a small shop near the university. one only had to travel down a sidewalk off a road before they came to a house that was full of people. we sat on small plastic stools around tables fashioned from any assortment of wood one could find. we ate dog stew, dog curry and anything else dog that they could muster up. dogs were wimpering behind the wall to my right. i’ll never forget that.

that was strange. this was normal.

this final time, we ate dog in a restuarant fairly far from our home. we still sat on plastic stools but this time the food was better. while eating dog is an affair for those of the lower class, this restaurant was high class dog. we ate dishes of rotissery dog, dog soup that was cooked with young bamboo and even the most sacred part of the male dog boiled with herbs.

we talked about life, about going home. we joked and i felt beautifully comfortable. i felt more at home at that dog restaurant than i will feel after i step off the plane and sit in a van for the two hour ride to my ‘house’.

people here tell me that i should stay forever. i tell them i want to and i tell them sincerely. to stay forever would be easy. to stay forever would be to forever adapt to this culture. to go home is hard. to touch base again is nearly impossible.

after a person becomes a part of one culture, separating is quite difficult.