Day 11 – hospitality

I am genuinely going to be about a million stone when I get home. Wildcard’s country is famous for its hospitality and I completely understand why.

At home, usually because I am on one diet or another, I don’t eat a great deal. Or try not to. So brunch is fruit and yoghurt and almonds. I have a normal dinner. Occasionally, if I am hungry, I will have a snack in the evening. Sometimes I don’t eat anything until dinner. Or maybe just have a banana or a cereal bar.

Here, the main meals are breakfast and lunch. Wildcard’s mum makes me eggs every morning and has baked me gluten free bread which she has just learned how to toast. There is butter, amazing olive oil, homemade jam and she has also been buying gluten free soft cheese. She makes me coffee and warm milk and there is tea. Recently, she has been making me freshly squeezed orange juice too. If I eat a little, they get worried. If I eat what is on my plate, they add more. 😋🤪

She has also made me potato cakes for breakfast – alongside the toast and eggs – and this morning, less than an hour after breakfast, gave me delicious homemade caramel and almond icecream. I took a little slice – she insisted I have more.

Her efforts in providing for me are astounding. Because Wildcard has told her I like salad, every meal I have my own little dish – cucumbers and tomatoes, chopped finely with seasoning and white vinegar. The main meal is always homemade and delicious – fresh vegetables and meat or fish. Accompanying this is rice or potatoes and bread. To finish, freshly cut watermelon or oranges or cherries. Always fresh, always delicious and always local.

Apart from occasionally taking plates into the kitchen, Wildcard’s parents won’t let me do anything. I feel completely lazy. I’ve offered to help, to wash dishes but they won’t let me. Whilst sitting on the couch with Wildcard is dreamy, I feel guilty as I hear his mum working in the kitchen.

They’re just lovely, lovely people. And to think, that just based on their nationality, their religion, their skin colour, some people hate them. I really don’t understand this world at all sometimes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s