Feeling a Little Bit Chicken

I feel absolutely, no-joke awful, again, and it's all my fault/choice. Again.

As I began preparing for studying abroad, one terrifyingly major aspect of the culture to consider was the food. Seafood, especially in port towns like Valparaiso, is a point of national pride. In the mountains, cattle farms are common. In general, soy is used as seasoning, not protein. Now, I have/had been a vegetarian since I was about 8 years old, and the concept of such a diet is pretty darn foreign to Chileans. This posed a challenge and a delightful summer project: learn to eat meat.

I started in May, with bites of fish. Not too bad, really, I felt a little silly, but experienced no physical results. Practice makes perfect, and I'm now capable of cooking and enjoying most kinds of fish (animal-looking things like shrimp are the exception). Graduating to chicken has proved significantly more difficult. Today was my 5th attempt, and the first time I've prepared it myself. Though I generally like the food that I cook better than when someone else cooks for me, I can't tell if the awfulness is any less than my previous experiences. Ugh.

As I sit here, praying to vomit or die, I can't help but worry about my gustatory capacity. With luck, my host family will be understanding and accommodating to my apparent inability to eat land-dwelling animals. I just don't want them to have a beef with me over my pickiness.