Delicious Murder - Part Two

Okay, so you're a meat eater. You eat cow, pig, fish and chicken meat; maybe even rabbit, lamb or deer. Perhaps you don't eat certain animals because of religious rules. Or perhaps because something is just not quite right about it. Or maybe you're a person that would try anything.

I thought myself to be a rather courageous, adventurous eater. Recently, I tried horse meat in Russia, yak meat in Mongolia, reindeer meat in Finland, and kangaroo meat in Australia, taking some care to consume animals that are common and plentiful, and not rare or endangered. I've always scoffed at people who refuse to eat certain animals simply because they feel some special affection towards it. Oh, a lamb or rabbit is too cute to eat? And just because a pig is somehow not as cute means you don't mind eating it? They are still two living beings, said the left-hemisphere of my brain. What's the difference between killing one animal or killing another?

When I read in my China guidebook that there was a food market in Yangshuo that sold dog meat, I knew I had to see it for myself. Before we get into this subject further, let's get one thing straight: most Chinese people do NOT eat dogs. One last thing: be warned that there is a rather graphic photo below, so please do not continue reading if you may be bothered by it.

This food market was like no other I had ever been to, on my travels or even in China. It was in a dark warehouse, there was blood on the floor, and even the air felt thick and heavy. The butcher stalls in the back were mostly selling poultry, but some had dogs and cats. The dogs were all of the same breed - a white, short-haired dingo-type dog. There were live dogs in wire cages under the tables, and roasted dogs hanging from hooks at the front. It was fascinating and horrifying. I took a couple of quick, out-of-focus photos, and made a beeline for the exit.

Having grown-up in a culture where dogs are man's best friend, this experience really spun my head around. Even if I had mentally prepared myself, I don't think I could have walked up to the stall and paid for a piece of take-out barbeque dog, let alone stuck around to gawk for a bit longer, especially with caged dogs looking on. The whole scene seemed cruel and unnecessary.

The same question from before stuck in my mind: what's the difference between killing one animal and killing another? I didn't have any reaction to the chicken stalls at the same market, with their stacks of caged chickens against the wall and their displays of delicious cooked chickens. Is it just a matter of getting used to eating new and different animals? If so, where is the line between civilized, moral human beings and murderous cannibals?

Delicious Murder - Part One

The ethical treatment of food animals is one important consideration in deciding whether or not to eat meat, but it seems most people are happily ignorant, perhaps so that they can continue to eat their favourite meaty foods without their conscience spoiling the fun. It certainly doesn't help that those do who speak up for animal rights are demonized in the media as psychotic, emotionally unstable women or effeminate men. Yet I think we can all agree that caging animals in highly confined and unsanitary spaces, or administering death in a way that causes prolonged pain and suffering is not cool, dude.

But if the animal was raised in a natural environment and killed in a humane way, are we free to feast without guilt? My personal opinion: if you can raise and kill the animal yourself, thus fully aware and involved in the ethical questions and ends of your actions, then yes, you can eat that animal with a clean conscience.Sounds straight-forward, but I myself have not had the chance to kill an animal to eat. During our travels through the countryside of Mongolia, I learned that even watching someone else do the dirty work isn't so simple.
The Mongolian nomadic people rely on their herds of animals for surviving in their harsh, unforgiving landscape. We were staying at a ger camp with a family that owned goats and camels. Our group of 6 tourists decided that we would purchase a goat for $60, and have it killed, dressed, cleaned and cooked to feed us over the next few days while we were camping in the countryside.
A smallish goat was presented to us for inspection. Our approval meant a death sentence for this young animal. After we gave the go-ahead, the goat was immediately flipped on its back, and held down by two men to prevent struggle or escape. I watched the goat squeeze its eyes shut as one of the men used a sharp knife to make a 12-inch cut along its belly. The man then reached his arm inside the goat, stopping its heart for a clean and quick kill. The dead goat was carried inside a ger, the skin removed, innards and flesh cleaned and prepared for cooking. Keeping with the Mongolian tradition, all parts of the goat are used in some way. It seemed clear that this was a very ethical and humane way to eat meat. The animals are free to roam and forage the grasslands for most of their lives. The actual kill is quick. And for these nomadic people, the animals serve as one of their few sources of nutrition. Yet for a traveller like me, who spends most of my time in places where non-animal sources of food are readily available, this goat's death seems like a big sacrifice in comparison to the small luxury of short-lived, tasty enjoyment. The feeling of guilt was stronger than I imagined. Could I have abstained from a few meat-containing meals to preserve this goat's life?

Freegans and Friendship in Scandanavia

As a long-term budget traveller, I am quickly learning the skill of stretching the money we have. This has been especially important in Scandanavian Europe, where everything is more expensive than we are used to. For example, a regular coffee easily costs 5 Canadian dollars. Luckily, with the help of other like-minded folks, we've had some great meals that have cost us zero currency units.

In Denmark, we find out that our new Danish pal is a foodie of sorts. While he works on cooking us a huge pot of pasta with bacon and rose sauce for late-breakfast in his tiny kitchen, he pulls out a handful of green leaves from a bag. He explains that it is a culinary plant is known as "ramslog" (the 'o' has a line through it). It tastes peppery and onionish, is relatively uncommon and mostly obtained by wild foraging (which is where this bunch came from).

In Norway, we meet an American traveller who looks like a young, blonde, smaller version of Woody Harrelson. He comes up with the brilliant idea to quell our midnight hunger pangs by foraging for food in the FREE section of the hostel kitchen, where other travellers have left food they no longer wish to carry with them. We made a large pot of spaghetti by combining a family-sized portion of instant noodle soup, one packet of instant ramen noodles, a generous dash of cooking oil, and a handful of mysterious vegetable-type powder. The result is an intensely salty, gooey, and slightly off-tasting pot of noodles. It was both filling and amusing.

In Sweden, the famed Scandanavian cold and rainy spring weather finally caught up to us. We hid out in our hostel for too much time, I regret. We found that the hostel kitchen had an amazing selection of free food, including cocoa powder. This discovery awakened my longing desire to bake. We end up finding flour, margarine, salt, sugar cubes, and strawberry jam... the makings of chocolate thumbprint cookies. These freegan cookies were shared with all those lingering around the hostel after dinner. One nice Danish couple lovingly placed their cookies on their pink lunchbox so they look like a pair of eyes.

In Finland, we spend our week there couchsurfing with 3 different hosts. Our first host was an energetic, young hippie couple who was preparing for a raw food diet. Their indoor garden of exotic chili pepper varieties, among other edible plants, and knowledge of wild foraging was very impressive. We went on a foraging walk, where we tasted a variety of edible plants, and collected some leaves for one of the best salads I've had in a long time.

A huge thank you to all the travellers who share their food with others, instead of letting it go to waste. A big bear-sized hug to all of the gracious hosts, who welcome and feed travellers and vagabonds with food and tales. We continue to be blessed with the generosity, laughter and friendship of the people we meet.