Big Ben and Zen were their names and they were my pets, my guinea pigs. I begged my mother to trust me with the responsibility of caring for other living beings and eventually her shoulders and faced relaxed with a reluctant, “alright, Em”. Those sweet little creatures lived a happy little life, but naturally these things come to an end and the rodents were given a proper burial.

Ten years later I am seated in a restaurant in the mountainous highland region of Huaraz, Peru staring down at my plate of “cuy”—roasted guinea pig. Beneath the yellow curry sauce lay the guinea pig with a small side of potatoes. The smell of the curry invaded my nostrils which, indeed, helped ease the reality of what I was eating. Even without hair, this lateral-cut creature still resembled those sweet, little guinea pigs I once loved so deeply. Why am I doing this? – I don’t have to eat this thing, but it is a delicacy in Peru and every travel guidebook highly recommends tasting the dish. Of course if I had bailed on eating my plate of food, I am certain I would have received smug looks from the corner of the kitchen where the three short Peruvian men were watching me closely as the plate of roasted guinea pig was placed in front of my hungry eyes. Peruvian men who would absolutely love to eat this dish, but me being an ignorant American cannot get a grip on the experience. I slowly grasp my fork and knife and raise and lower them slowly, simultaneously, over the carcass on my plate. Which end to start from? I decide the best thing for the state of my mind is to begin by removing the feet and the mouth, these were the parts that most resembled those loves from my past. One of the greatest things about eating meats in the United States is that typically it is served already diced up; the consumer hardly ever sees the entirety of what they are eating since our meats are typically served beak, claw, feather and foot free. After removing the reminiscent body parts, I clamped the guinea pig between my fork and knife and flipped it over, revealing what I could not prepare myself for, the innards of the animal, guts and all. Yum.

Living in the United States, Americans are so sheltered to these experiences. For starters, the guinea pig is a domesticated pet, certainly not something to be prepped, cooked and served. However, if this “cuy” was served in the United States, it would most definitely be placed in front of a wealthy man, who instead of stating “I’ll have the caviar, please” to his restaurant server, he would simply say “the roasted guinea pig looks delightful this evening”. This delicacy makes mouths water across the Andean highlands in Peru, and when it is placed in one of those mouths, it comes with a hefty cost of about $10.00—cheap to the typical American, but very pricey to any Peruvian.

Respect and curiosity of this creature ran through my veins, “they are watching me from the kitchen”, was all I could grasp. One should try anything once, including me. After scraping through the inside of the guinea pig, I finally found myself a suitable bite. Tastes like chicken…or maybe turkey. The reality was it did not matter anymore; after the first bite, enjoyment was step two. Unfortunately, the small creature did not yield much meat, especially considering I was only served half of the guinea pig. However, I managed to stomach some of the organs still left inside. Once again, I am grossed out, but I keep turning over the idea in my head, “this is a delicacy, Emily, this dish is widely enjoyed here and you should be enjoying it too”. “Ok”, I say to myself. The guinea pig’s stomach may have slithered its way down my throat, I am not entirely sure.

The next morning I find myself in the local market buying some last minute gifts before I depart the country, USA bound. I feel as though my head is on a swivel as I peer around at all of the goods in the market: handbags, llama sweaters, spices, coffee, alpaca socks, gloves, bananas, local meats, hammocks, pots and pans, toilet paper, guinea pigs and other livestock. Wait, guinea pigs? Indeed, in a mesh bag, about fifty of them to be exact, squirming around making silent peeps. My face instantly softens as my eyebrows rise with empathy. What was it exactly about this mesh bag that made me feel so uncomfortable? It is like seeing chickens in a coop or thousands of cows in a pasture, but for some reason this was different. This mesh bag was not only a form of containment for these creatures, but also a form of entrapment. After all, I had seen the Peruvian men hoist these mesh bags full of guinea pigs up and over their shoulder as if they were pretending to be Santa Claus. On a separate occasion I saw a mesh bag of guinea pigs thrown on the top of a combi van—the public transportation. It was the powerlessness of the small guinea pigs combined with the power of their capturer, and above all, the fact that these are domesticated pets in the United States, which made the sight of guinea pigs treated in this manner seem strange.

Thoughts and visions of these rodents had changed dramatically in those last 16 hours of my trip. Guinea pig pet, to guinea pig dinner, to guinea pigs for sale—to be eaten. Confused, but why? I eat pigs, cows, and chickens on a regular basis. The reasoning is simple: my customs and way of life is vastly different from these Peruvian people. The Peruvian people do not domesticate these animals, they are part of their fine-dining diet and culture. Half of the fun while traveling abroad is experiencing another culture. One of the best ways to get in touch with another culture is to live by their standards, including eating what they eat. Getting in touch with my “Peruvian side” meant eating the roasted “cuy” and loving every second of it—even if I was close to vomiting. Unfortunately, the series of mental images I drew up in my mind were a large factor in dictating the taste of the roasted guinea pig. Sometimes it is very difficult to be accepting of what is truly a flavorful dish because it goes so far against all norms. After this experience, it is easy to say I will continue to try the local cuisine in other countries and cultures—no matter how strange. Above all, I love having a conversation with another person in which I am asked, “what is the craziest thing you have eaten in another country?” and among my list of exotic foods, roasted guinea pig from the Peruvian highlands takes a choice position.