I Got Conched Out

     You'd think I'd have learned my lesson.

     But that defiant Hungarian nature wouldn't let me admit defeat...

      The trek to "Big Ds" seemed like a good idea, mainly because it was a

trek.  An excursion on a lazy island.  A chance for us to explore this 1/2 mile wide adventure land.  Something that felt like moving.  Besides, I'd finished my book...

      Big D's, it turns out, is a conch shack...or place that sells raw, bacteria laden mollusks that have been sitting out in a boat for hours.  In Big D's defense, the prep area looked quite clean, and I personally watched D himself brushing the cutting board with soap and water (conch water?).  But it was his expertise in slicing oranges, tomatoes, onions, limes and that slimy thing called conch, that helped me trust the man with my intestinal tract.  He threw the oranges up into the air, and sliced them with his big, sharp knife as they floated through the down.  He talked to us about how he's been featured in 27 magazines as having the best conch in the world, and how Al Roker did a spot on him on the today show....etc.  So I thought that if Al Roker trusts him, then why shouldn't I?  What I didn't know was that Al was born on Exuma, and has a town named after his family here.  That he has a special interest in promoting the island that is his home. That his opinions are slanted and not entirely objective. That his stomach is accustomed to eating raw, bacteria laden mollusks, made with fruit and vegetables washed in a bucket that also is used for washing raw conch.

      In any case, I tried it.  Actually, more than just tried it.....I ate an extraordinarily large bowl, pilled high into a beautiful triangular pyramid by Big D himself..... sculpted with his large hands that had just made the raw, bacteria laden conch salad.  Yum. And, as you've guessed by now, the gentle gods have decided that being allergic to gluten, diary, all trees and grasses, mold, penicillin and certain types of people, is not a sufficient test for me.  Apparently, now I am to be allergic to conch too.  Yes - I could barely make it home that afternoon – driving 50 miles an hour on a road that shouldn’t be driven more than 35 – because you could fall off the edge of the thing into the mangroves - before, once again, alternating ends over the

toilet for 2 hours straight.  Never planned on getting so intimate with the porcelain. Fun.  No one else got sick, or even cranky, so after inquiring with the oracle (Mr. Google), I discovered that I had displayed symptoms of a mild (they obviously weren’t in the bathroom with me) shellfish allergy.  And, it appears, that one can be allergic to only a few or one form of shellfish, like myself....I think....because up until now, I've been eating mussels and shrimp with no adverse effects.  But the allergy can develop at anytime in one's life, and it will never cease, but only get worse.  Lucky me.

       So, I'll add conch to my list of allergies and now will have to be extra annoying when ordering seafood in a place that also serves conch.... My friends will be overjoyed to dine with me.

      The rest of this trip, I'll be dining on Uncle Ben’s instant boxed rice and canned peas from the best market in town. Oh, and rum.

     Dreaming of paprika chicken with rice noodles and lots of fresh vegetables.