BLAAAARRRGH!

BLAAARRRGH! – A spray paint of vomit covers the bowl, abdominals punched by the invisible hand of food poisoning force evacuating my guts. I’ve eaten my share of interesting meals and state that a meal is rated on two elements, how it tastes going in and how it feels coming out... right now could be the worst meal ever.

I remember a hidden restaurant in Shibuya - Japan, where Sushi is crafted with such precision and care, each piece an art installation of colour and flavour, the rice surrounding an unusual raw treat with a hint of wasabi heat, a synonym to Tokyo with its super clean demeanour of building monoliths and 80 zillion business suits, hiding eclectic internal flavours of video game parlours and multi-story sex stores for your downtime. Sugoi Na!

The clinical presentation of Japanese contrasted by the traditional Indonesian curry of Padang Java, “You got extra fish heads?”
“Yeah, but they have been in the sun for a few hours.”
“No problem, I got lots of chilli to sort them out – chuck them in!”
Somehow... it works. Boleh saya minta bowl curry dan nasi! I squeal as the delightfully tasty chilli mixture scolds the dietary tract from oesophagus to bottom. The Javanese gentleman who lets me call him Pak (Dad), smiles a toothy grin and piles me up a large bowl, he appreciates that I helped him carry his fish in the morning and always brush the sand off my feet before entering the Warung. It’s the little things that the Indonesians add to the curry that give it the special extras, and the little things that take you from being a tourist bolue to a part of the family.
Those fish heads won’t make me sick will they?

As I slide down beside the toilet bowl in the foetal position I recall that they didn’t.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME WOMAN?!?!? (Inconspicuous gurgle noises)
“Well honey – the prawns did smell a little funny when I brought them, but the price per kilo was too good to refuse... maybe they were a little green.”
Thanks for the welcome home meal, Mum!