Week 19 ~ Timaru // Porridge

So, I tried to write a blog post for my time in Timaru on at least three separate occasions and never came up with anything. I can very vividly remember some of the feelings I had going on and a couple of situations that made living as a God girl not the easiest road to be on during this week, but none of that felt fitting for this blog. But then, I remembered! I know exactly what I need to write about now...

PORRIDGE.

Yes. You read that correctly! Welcome to story time with Sonya Cossey...

I was billeted with my sis Ari and our host mother was this lovely old Grandma who lived by herself. She was an interesting character and very talkative. We spent every dinner time hearing her stories from the past and the things God had taught her over the years. There's nothing much that I could complain about from my stay with her... Except for breakfasts.

Living on the road, touring, performing you've got to eat well to have the energy you need. Breakfast is so important in this context because every day is physically challenging. Well, little ol Grandma on the night we arrived asked if we'd be happy with porridge for breakfast the next day. Now, at this point in the story you need to know that for me, porridge was always my Sunday morning brekky growing up. During the week it was normal cereals and toast but on SUNDAY, we had yummy hot porridge with brown sugar and cream. This was such a beautiful thing and so naturally I was very excited at the prospect of porridge for breakfast!

The next morning I wake up and there it is, ready for me. It's sitting on the table steaming hot, calling for me to delve in and enjoy. Unfortunately there wasn't any cream but I supposed milk would suffice, at least there was brown sugar. And so, a small amount of sugar sprinkled on top and a dash of milk, I picked up my spoon and the porridge went towards my mouth, it hit my taste buds and... EW. YUCK. NOPE. EW. EW. EW. UGH!

What was this?! How could something taste so bad?! Maybe I was mistaken. Try again.... NOPE. STILL TERRIBLE. What was that taste? I couldn't figure it out for a moment but then it hit me. SALT. That's what I was tasting! That was the monstrosity behind this! It was all I could taste. Not the milk, not the oats, just straight up salt. I didn't think I could eat a tiny bit more of this, just two mouthfuls in. But Grandma had made it for me. It'd be so rude not to and I'd be starving all morning if I didn't and so I tried adding some more sugar... And more sugar... And maybe just a little more sugar... But alas, this did not remedy it. I struggled through the bowl, wanting to spit it out and dreading every next mouthful. Finally, it was done. I resolved that no matter how awkward it might be, I could not put myself through that same distasteful experience tomorrow. I would simply mention that I preferred it without salt and that'd be fine. It was just a matter of preference after all.

And so the next morning came, I walked out into the kitchen and was ready to politely ask for no salt in my portion but what I found was not a good start. The microwave jugs were set out with the oats AND SALT already in them. Right then, Grandma bustled in and set about readying the breakfast. She was about to cook the porridge but then vocalised, "Oh, I don't think I put the salt in." And heaps another HUGE spoon into each of the jugs... THE HORROR! I now had before me not just the same feat as yesterday, but a double-salted bowl of nightmares. I don't think I can cope with describing eating it the second time. Let's just say it made for a great video on Ari's Snapchat story. (Which she later showed me and I was horrified at the disgusted look on my face, although it was rather hilarious)

By day three I had no hope but at least I was mentally prepared for the struggle ahead of me. Envision me walking into the kitchen, downcast and dreading what awaited me. There I am, I see the microwave jugs on the bench. I look inside them and... PRAISE THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY, THERE'S NOTHING IN THEM! She hadn't got it ready like the mornings before, and I was absolutely free to make my own porridge with 0% salt in it! Oh, the joy! I was so glad to have a breakfast that wasn't filled with torture and disgust.

Okay, so maybe in my story-telling I exaggerate a little... But what can I say, I am a drama major after all! If I'm going to draw something out of this painful yet entertaining story, I guess it's the reality that sometimes things are really not as we expect them to be. Our past leads us to have preconceptions of the things we later encounter and at times those expectations we hold come crashing down in bitter disappointment. And yet, with a slight change of ingredients, we can restore the unpleasant back to the wonderful.

Don't allow others to pollute your experiences with unwanted saltiness, and may your porridge forever be something of warmth, comfort, and happy fuzzy feelings!