Where people oft not walk but waddle.
The lack of flavor came across quite crude,
So at my birthplace I did not dawddle.
A refugee for taste, it became my quest,
To find a cuisine with something more.
I traveled fervently without rest,
Until, finally, I discovered Ecuador!
No friend told me of this new found Eden,
Too afraid my learning might protest.
But O Sweet Mercy! upon this heathen.
What my gut so easily profess.
Fruit so strange in its name and look.
Some made into juice thick with mora [blackberry]
The tree fruit granedilla my heart it took!
The vivid color and fresh¬picked euphoria.
Ceviche breath made from tears of heaven.
Popcorn bobs on top like happy boats.
Underneath swims the bounties of the seas seven.
Such a light meal, my palette dotes.
Verde o moroche empañada,
Stuffed with meat or queso, your desire.
After I demolish it my appetite is nada.
Covered in thin salsa sets my lips on fire!
And with the fruits and breads and meats,
The soups to fill the coldest soul.
Any new dish, I´m happy to greet.
O mountainous country my stomache you stole.
