I’m not sure when or how I developed a fear of lighting matches. I enjoy campfires and roasting marshmallows, I was a Girl Scout for goodness sake. For whatever reason, flames and fire make me a little nervous.
At the wise old age of 26, I’m cool with lighting candles from regular books of matches, but when I realized the stovetops in our kitchen didn’t have pilot lights, I had visions of eating raw vegetables and yogurt all summer. I was so nervous on my first try, I turned on the gas but didn’t put the match anywhere near the burner. When I started to smell gas I panicked, threw up the match, and nearly lit my hair on fire. I imagined how my face would look without eyelashes or eyebrows and stayed away from the kitchen for the rest of the day. After several meals of boxed raisins and Luna bars (those were supposed to last me all summer…and thanks Mom for the raisins!) and two nights of waking up with a growling stomach, I decided to suck it up and try again. After lessons from both the housekeeping staff and a patient Italian couple also staying at the hostel, tonight I pulled back my hair, rolled up my sleeves, and managed to cook dinner without any explosions or permanent injuries.
Ok, I wish I'd known about this blog earlier... I have time to kill! So look forward to belated comments. For starters, is that the stove? Why does it appear to be hovering in mid air? It confuses me.
ReplyDeleteYes, that is the stove, and it confuses me too. It is attached the the wall, and there are some scary looking tubes that give it gas. I'll take another picture so you can have a better look.
ReplyDelete(And I've been writing this blog for three weeks, I just uploaded all 27 entries today! The internet is fussy here.)