I remember when I lived in Nicaragua, that I asked some friends “do you want a sandwich or do you want food.” This was a moment of complete cultural adaptation. Even since then I haven’t been able to consider sandwiches as food. They are, just, sandwiches.
Yesterday, at around 4 pm, I said to myself, it’s about time for lunch. That’s how I knew I had adapted. I also bought mineral water flavoured with salt and lime at a convenience store on the way home from Oaxaca, which also seems pretty unlikely behaviour for a Canadian. I have also acquired a chilango accent, but I hope it is not chilango fresa insoportable. The only problem is that now I have to leave.