Last night we went to chat about time hopping and parallel universes with a small group of folks in an old house undergoing wonderful remodeling.
We spent a lot of time in the new kitchen with wine, cheese, sausage, crackers, and roasted Mexican grasshoppers. Yep. With all the regular snacks available there did not seem to be a lot of interest in eating roasted insects. Pat had one. I had several. And, the gal that brought them, was happy to send them home with us.
And, I was able to tell my story again about tacos hormigas: ant tacos offered up by a street vendor in Tepoztlán, MX.
The story is simple: I stood on a street twenty feet from the vendor looking at a big, yellow vinyl sign with a red ant, and the word HORMIGAS on it, and did not investigate. It was simply that I did not see what was staring me in the face. Mind you, I was NOT in a hurry. I was not passing by. I was standing on a street looking around in utter amazement. Perhaps I was simply overwhelmed. Three days after being on that street I met a man that told me his grandfather ate a variety of insects.
I missed a chance to find out whether these ant tacos were live, dead, black, red, chocolate covered or what. I did not see something clearly in my field of vision. That is the story; not seeing or believing.
Coming soon: a plate of rice and beans coming to a plate near me.