If penguins are cool ... how come I'm so hot?

The Pause that Refreshes

Where else but in Niger can you go to what passes for a fine resturant and be served coka-cola in a 30cc glass bottles? But let's get back to that. By far our favorite meal if we "go out", is "brochettes and frits". Just to give you an idea how many times we "go out", we've had "brochettes and frits" once so far in our 2 months here. "Brochettes" are bite sized pieces of beef, alternating with vegetables on a skewer and grilled over an open fire. The vegetables are variable according to what is in season, usually onions, sometimes peppers, sometimes tomatoes ... you get the picture. "Frits" are fries. Home cut, but still thin and fried until a little greasy, served with catsup, tangy mustard and a hot sauce that is very good with the brochettes. All this is served on an open patio, with steel furniture. Sometimes with cemented or stepping stone areas, but always with sand underfoot, and straggly trees yeilding imperfect shade. Which is one of the reasons one tends to go at dusk. But the part that always makes me smile is the waiter, dressed in a black, or at least a dark pair of pants and a white shirt, who comes around before the meal is served with the glasses. And the still sealed bottles of coke. He puts the glass down, picks up a bottle and with a flourish (or as much of a flourish as you'll get in Niger), takes a bottle opener and opens the bottle in front of you. He wants you to hear the hiss of the carbonation escaping as he opens it to prove that it is factory fresh and not pre-opened and thus perhaps contaminated or flat.

Where else but in Niger can you go to what passes for a fine resturant and be served coka-cola in a 30cc glass bottles? But let's get back to that.

By far our favorite meal if we "go out", is "brochettes and frits". Just to give you an idea how many times we "go out", we've had "brochettes and frits" once so far in our 2 months here.

"Brochettes" are bite sized pieces of beef, alternating with vegetables on a skewer and grilled over an open fire. The vegetables are variable according to what is in season, usually onions, sometimes peppers, sometimes tomatoes ... you get the picture.

"Frits" are fries. Home cut, but still thin and fried until a little greasy, served with catsup, tangy mustard and a hot sauce that is very good with the brochettes.

All this is served on an open patio, with steel furniture. Sometimes with cemented or stepping stone areas, but always with sand underfoot, and straggly trees yeilding imperfect shade. Which is one of the reasons one tends to go at dusk.

But the part that always makes me smile is the waiter, dressed in a black, or at least a dark pair of pants and a white shirt, who comes around before the meal is served with the glasses. And the still sealed bottles of coke. He puts the glass down, picks up a bottle and with a flourish (or as much of a flourish as you'll get in Niger), takes a bottle opener and opens the bottle in front of you. He wants you to hear the hiss of the carbonation escaping as he opens it to prove that it is factory fresh and not pre-opened and thus perhaps contaminated or flat.