The Meat Market
Every time I walk through the marché on my way to my tailor, I pass the meat market. Near the entrance, there is often the head of a bull or a pig dripping with blood and a cloud of flies. I haven't had the courage to buy meat by myself.
Kevin was in town for a conference at my school. Since we are both broke, we decided to cook dinner. With Kevin by my side, we walked toward a booth that had half a cow on the table. The air was thick with the scent of blood. Grabbing his arm and thinking "du courage," we picked the part of the butchered animal that we wanted. Then the man started hacking at the piece of meat with a dirty knife... ugh!
At least dinner was fantastique… organic meat sauce from scratch with fried plantains... mmm!
