It´s happened twice so far. Perhaps the most horrible by-choice experience that I can think of right now. The smell and feeling of rotting flesh in an 80-degree enclosed butcher shop. I was innocent at the beginning, the first time. It was just a little shop along the side of the road, and we needed some bottles of water. I followed Miguel in to check it out, as I love looking at all the strange things in grocery stores. Without warning, it hit me. This horrible, thick, warm stench of musty room temperature beef. The first thing I did was put my hand over my mouth, and I instantly though of my best friend from high school, Sarah. She would have thrown up all over right then and there. She hates pulp in her orange juice and chunks in her soups - and is quite sensitive to gross things. This was super gross. I was dumbfounded. How were all these people acting normal? Including Miguel. Everyone just nonchalantly walking around like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Well, that was all I could take. I could feel the bloody warm air moving around me, and it was so humid and thick that it felt like I was breathing in the rot with each breath. I told Miguel, hand - over - mouth that I had to leave and he was on his own with the water.
The second time - again - no warning. I was there to get water and vegetables for our trip to the mountains. Happy-go-lucky-Heather, and before I even saw the carcass in the back or the slabs of red and white pieces of meat behind the glass case, the thick bloody air filled my nostrils. I didn´t even have to look up from the oranges and bananas I was picking over - I knew that smell. Sure enough, there it was - the beef bar. Of course an elderly woman standing right by it causually ordering her slabs of rotting meat. Immediately hand-over-nose and mouth. Oh my God, this is torture. Still, I wanted to find food for the day, so I just walked around with my mouth open, trying not to smell anything, which is quite a challenge, but there was no other way. The place was small, sweaty, hot and crowded and people were standing in line at the register all unorganized and bumping into me from all angles. Utter disgust on my part. I had to get out. But this time I stuck with it, and I remained strong (looking like a fool, I´m sure with my hand over my nose and my open mouth). I came very close to a few dry heaving episodes, but managed to hang on until we finally exited the building.
I had to change my shirt in the car and drive with the windows down to get the smell out of our clothes and the bags we had purchased from there. A butcher shop is not the place for a pregnant woman from the USA. Take note.
