Lunch on the Run

A couple of days ago, our traditional lunch at Villa Balanza was a little more traditional than I had expected. Tatiana knew from our habits that we would show up around noon; she and a few others from rehearsal at the chapel arrived moments after we had taken our seats. Special arrangements with the owner had been made. We weren't even offered the usual choice from among the three daily specials. 'Don't worry about it', Tatiana said. 'You'll like it'. Hmm, I thought. That sounds ominous.

Before long, two waitresses bearing large trays glided our way and set down identical meals in front of each of us. Except that maybe Tatiana's serving looked a little more generous. Hmm, I thought again as I eyed the dish before me. Not wanting to initiate an international incident, I politely began to pick away at the scrawny leg (perhaps) sitting off by itself on the plate, a safe distance from the vegetables. It seemed to be meat of some kind, but with more bones than anything else. The little bit of flesh there was proved fairly tough. Maybe that's why the vegetables were nervous. If it was chicken, this particular specimen must have spent every day of a long hard life running from the Colonel. I can't remember which of us innocents finally posed the inevitable question. Garrolo was the answer. 'Oh, what's that?' I asked. Lizard. Despite what everyone always says about exotic food, garrolo doesn't really taste like chicken.

Frank and I left the restaurant intact, neither of us stretched out in agony in the cargo bed, and Tito drove us back to work at Escuela Taller. One of our guys was out behind the central building watering the pavement when he spotted something up one of the trees and shouted out a battle cry - in Spanish, of course. You guessed it. The 'before' version of today's special. The rest of the guys were out there in a flash, excited as anything, throwing sticks and trying to capture a free lunch. But the garrolo was even faster, and he dashed into a nearby pile of scrap wood before they could even think about sticking a fork in him.