#10 A Newbie...

Transformation from an urban girl to a cowgirl wasn't easy. There were lessons for me to learn and some a little disconcerting.

My first lesson was language.

The language lesson began on that first morning at the guest ranch. At breakfast, I dutifully sat in the Spanish style dining room, properly upright at the table. Sun streamed in from the skylights directly above the deep rose bougainvillea growing along the rear wall. Sunlight painted the outdoor patios with a brilliant light and spilled through the wall of windows flooding the dining area.

I was enjoying the happy glow the light created and realized that I was hungry.

A waitress appeared and I asked for breakfast.

"Porridge???" she said, a slight touch of incredulity in her voice.

"Izzat like grits" the waitress asked.

"Grits?" I asked.

Before I could comment further she was gone.

A moment later the chef appeared and demanded,

"Porridge? Just what the heck is that?"

"Well," I began, "you boil oats... sort of a gruel..."

"Oats" he almost shouted, "Boiled oats... lady around here that's oatmeal!!!!"

As he started to leave I asked, "Is it steel cut?"

"Lady, on a ranch, oat meal is oat meal."

We all spoke English but it didn't mean we spoke the same language.

My second lesson was trust.

I noticed that all the resident cowboy's were branded. Like cattle and horses, they had permanent marks of ownership upon their bodies. Every cowboy had a circle on his ass. A circle on the back pocket of his blue jeans and always on his rear end. Was this a symbol of some secret society?

Soon I understood, the circle was actually a worn area on the back pocket caused from a small, round tin can. Inside was a mysterious mixture of dark chocolate that smelled of heavenly mint. It was called "Chew."

"Want some?" I was asked.

"Oh yes!" I eagerly replied. I loved chocolate and this looked divine.

I scooped a handful from the container and popped it into my mouth.

"Don't chew it..." I  was quickly told.

I should have been suspicious... it was called chew and you don't chew... what gives? So I swallowed it.

Almost before it hit my stomach, I began to vomit and continued to do so for some time. What I had swallowed was chewing tobacco... in all its disgusting might.

I learned that a cowgirl had to beware of a cowboy's sense of humor.

Another lesson was communication.

I couldn't wait to explore the city of Tucson and my rental car took me everywhere. Tucson has a rich Hispanic heritage and I was eager to see this culture.

The ranch staff said that I must try the local cuisine and I stopped at a recommended Mexican restaurant. I ordered Tamales... highly promoted by everyone at the ranch.

Soon a plate brimming with Tamales arrived. They were a soft green and looked like pudgy packets. I began to eat but discovered that they were unusually tough. I found the meal very unsatisfactory and left most of it untouched.

I returned to the ranch and commented about my dissatisfying "Mexican" meal. Everyone roared with laughter. Wrapped in corn husks, Tamales are a seasoned corn masa and designed to be unwrapped before eating. I had been trying to chew corn husks.

Oh there were many lessons in my new land... and some, not worth chewing on.