I've been staying at the xorio (my parents village). It's the land of all things creepy - spiders, scorpions, parktown prawn looking grasshoppers, big black bugs with fangs *shudders*. The xorio is tucked away on a mountain (its a 1.4km walk to the main road), 45 mins drive either way to a big town. Its in the middle of nowhere. The internet connection here is slooooooooooow. Everyone has their own vegetable garden. The 'restaurant' serves chickens from the priests garden. The doctor only visits once a week. The man who delivers bread only visits once a week.
Anyhoo, I decided to be homely this morning and fry some eggs (okay fine my mom left and I was starving). I tried not to think about the fact that tonight I may very well be eating the chickens bum that laid the eggs. I opened the fridge, what's that?! Stamped eggs?? Stamped eggs!! There is a God and he knows where our xorio is! Stamped eggs = fat chickens I wont be eating + washed eggs + expiry date + no trace of villageness
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