Chinotto, Chin OH NO!

Well.

That was embarrassing.

I mean, a month without blogging? I think I broke my record for last time - two months sans posting.

But wait, I've still got a month to go to smash that record.

Well, guess I'd better sign off then.

But wait, I've already posted. So you're in luck, I've got something for you to read.

As you might know there are only 2 million Slovenes. So learning slovene and nothing else really isn't an option for slovenes. So everyone speaks Slovene, english, a european language (german, french, italian) and a balkan language (croatian, serbian, macedonian). And the labels on foods are in four or five languages as well.

So we never really know exactly what we're buying until we bite it. (Not a recommended practice).

Or drink it, for that matter.

There is one large organic (or EKO, as the slovenes say) store in Ljubljana. It's called Kalcek, said Kalchek. Nice selection, but nothing on earth fare. Still, it's the best we can do.

Mom's fancy for fizzy drinks has led us on a quest accross ljubljana's grocery stores, and the latest acquisition was a darkish-brown liquid in a liter bottle that strongly resembled Coke. the emblem was an artists rendition of a lime cut in half. It was called CHINOTTO.

At dinner, everyone was eager to try out the new drink. I poured a glass and took a sip.

Yum! It was nice and sweet until I swallowed, then
YUCK! Sweet no longer, a strong better aftertaste rolled into my mouth. I almost choked.

"Don't dri - "

Too late. Avery suffered the same fate.

"What's wrong?" asked mom.

"You're new soda is bitter."

"Let me try. No its no - ug, what is that? I know I know that taste!"

What does it taste like?

"Oh no - that's what that drink campari tastes like. Myrtle lemon extract. Highly alcoholic."

Mom sprinted to the computer and feverishly typed CHINOTTO MYRTLE LEMON EXTRACT

"Oh S***, it is campari." Uh oh. I had already drunk a whole glass.

"Garrett, go make yourself throw up."
"WHAT? I'm not going to do that!"

"Yes you are, unless you want to get alcohol poisoning!"

"It's worth it, not to have to vomit!"
"You don't have to do that, son," interjected my sympathetic dad.

"YES HE DOES! You could die from alcohol poisoning!"

I adamantly refused.

Mom stormed off to the computer, typed some more, then said, "Oh, thank goodness, it's NOT campari."

"Oh, you could have told me that a bit sooner! You didn't have to get me all worked up over 'go make yourself vomit'"

"I never said that."

And so it went.

BUT remember, folks, always translate the label to english....
...so you don't have to suffer our fate.