All of the necessary items are present:
· The broken bits of chips left in the Tostados bag (to bring a friendly flavor to the mouth)
· Bottle of water (to wash it down, purified since tap will likely bring a week of vomiting and diarrhea)
· Camera to document
· Brave friend to offer companionship (because no one likes to do anything crazy alone)
· An additional three friends to photo document, offer encouragement, and make the appropriate faces of disgust
And finally the main event:
· One greasy bag filled with giant friend spider (tarantula to be exact)
Let’s do this thing.
4:18 pm
· Open greasy bag and pass around room having friends sample smell.
· Remove specimen from bag.
4:19 pm
· Pray over food:
“Dear Jesus, thank you for this food. All eight hairy legs. Amen.”
· Break off leg and eat, share with two brave friends
(Think fried soft shell crab with more of a nutty kick, followed by a slightly unpleasant sour aftertaste)
4:20 pm
· Remove toothpick with the impaled spider abdomen
· Hold up for all to see
· Receive appropriate “ewwws”
· A surge of courage and a deep breath followed by, “I am about to eat Tarantula ass… Don’t worry Mo, I will eat the half with the anus and save the rest for you.”
4:21 pm
One minute of chewing
(Flavor: Ball of fried goose liver with prickly hairs hat tickle the tongue like kiwi hairs)
4:22 pm
Applause, gulps of water, bits of broken chips, more water, rush of victory.
4:26 pm
Friends leave and I throw open hotel window and place a pillow on the rough sill where the track for the sliding window runs.
I lean my body awkwardly out the window to soak up the sunlight and vitamin D.
(Note to readers: I have literally lost half of my hair this month because of some vitamin deficiency. Apparently 90% of Cambodian women are affected by hair loss. The proof is in the grocery stores stocked with rows of “anti-hair fall” shampoo, but it is also on my clothing, pillow, hairbrush and clogging any shower I use. Many women on my squad are being affected this month and as a squad leader I will try ANYTHING to figure out how to fix this. Even if that means hanging half of my body out of the 7th floor window (because it is the safest place to get a tan in the Phenom Penh slums), paying $6 for a ¼ gallon of milk ( an unsightly amount when your food budget for the day is $4.50), or consuming tarantula on the side for some extra protein.)
4:27 pm
Watch stray hairs fall from head while dangling out the window, follow them with eyes till they land on rooftop below covered in blue pvc pipes. Stare solemnly at place hairs landed by pipes. Watch giant puppy-sized rat emerge from blue pipes… another source of protein???
4:29 pm
Ponder what fried Cambodia roof top rat would taste like…
4:30 pm
Sigh deeply (and chuckle inwardly at the thought of the verse Matt. 10:20, “Even the hairs on your head have been counted”. Ok Lord, I get it. But please use more than your fingers and toes to count!), step away from window to pop another Flintstone vitamin, take another swig of exuberantly priced milk and grab nail polish.
4:32 pm
Paint nails coral red while leaning out window, soaking. If I am going to be bald, then I can at least have pretty painted finger nails.
4:35 pm
Turn IPod on to shuffle and stop at Satellite by Dave Matthews Band. Smile at old memories of high school drives with my older sister. Laughing at each other as we would take a breath to start singing and always get psyched out at when the vocals would actually begin:
· 15 seconds into song… PSYCH! Not yet!
· 30 seconds into song… Dang it! Gets me every time!
· 45 seconds into song… BINGO! Yeah, I knew it all along. Dave, how you weave yarn into musical gold, you sly dog!
“Satellite in the sky, like a diamond in my eye… how I wonder.”
Out of body realization at how crazy weird the last 20 minutes of my life were and the accompanied equally weird realization that it has all begun to feel strangely normal. I think of all the faces back home that don’t count it normal to eat arachnids, contemplate the taste of rat, or lose handfuls of hair with every flip. I grab my journal and crack it open and see that my last notes written there were the biblical references of demons I had researched in prep for Africa. What they are, what they do and how to get rid of them. Normal. Yup, I am on The World Race.
I grab my pen and write out the title, “In the Past 20 Minutes”.
