Othello Week 3 Part 1

Gluttony

If food be the food of love, play on

Q: What do Minstrels Eat?
A: Everything (except for the Vegetarian)

At first I was upset that I forgot my camera during week 2 of the tour. Othello traveled outside of Boise for the first time: Twin Falls, Idaho City, Buhl... I even used my laptop to try and capture the moment (see above), but after a struggle, I realized, as I always do...

"this is not important. It is the experiences, the memories, the great triumphant joy of living to the fullest extent in which real meaning is found. God, it is great to be alive! Thank you. Thank you."
- Alexander Supertramp

Thus, a written account of the food-crimes that ensued:

• Breakfast at Calamity Janes in Idaho City: Omlette filled with "Sobbing Potatoes", avocado, salsa, and cheese
  
• Pies the size of a tractor wheel --at Trudy's
  
• Nine Beans and a Burrito = True Love-- and Lard, I am sure of it.

Give me excess of it

• Riverboat cafe: where meat lovers thrive and vegetarians eat ... fries.
  

Out of town for the first time, I packed vegetarian rations galore: 2 PBJ's, a hummus-agucate sanduche, 2 luna bars, and 3 apples. I ate EVERYTHING in 3 days plus continental breakfasts, which I am sure were the culprits that made me sick. Note to self: No matter how cool a hotel waffle iron is, or how tempting Vickie the Hampton Inn breakfast mistress makes it-- her mom threw a waffle iron into their backyard during a domestic fight that set them at odds for years and thus is why she protested the waffle iron at the breakfast station when it first arrived, but Hapmton won the argument--do not partake. Note to self part 2: also don't coat said waffle iron's Kirkland waffle in Kirkland peanut butter and Kirkland HFC ("maple") syrup...

that surfeiting the appetite may sicken and so die

Beware of gluttony

1781: It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke
1782: The meate it feeds on.

How can I not feel gluttonous looking back on this food-joy? I feel it still-- even now as I sit in a cafe in Boise as I reflect on my road trip, the story of Chris McCandless fresh in my skull.

I am no vagabond.

What is it like to be desperately hungry? To starve? To have poor hands? In some ways, my HANDS are not poor enough to SEE just how rich I am.

Ros.
A Traueller: by my faith you haue great rea-son
1937: to be sad: I feare you haue sold your owne Lands,
1938: to see other mens; then to haue seene much, and to haue
1939: nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands.

I still don't know what is next for me. Is that poor enough? I know I am going to Machu Picchu--and even that, I have already got a tour booked. I know I will be fed and sheltered each night for the four days it takes to follow the Inca Trail. After that--for the summer, I have no home--no place which to return--no plans. NO money. Perhaps this is insecurity enough. Perhaps I am a vagabond of a different variety.

OR just a fool...