More scary things

 If you know me well, you know my weakness for sweets and beets. However, I now realize that the cosmic life-force has a Dantesque sense of humor, and that the sugar factory was designed as an ironic punishment for my various sins.

Inside the heat is stifling. Do you remember in Lord of the Rings, when Saruman the wizard rips up the countryside into an industrial, orc-powered nightmare? Right. Steam belches from machines that tremble the ground. As you walk up ladders and cross narrow walkways, the heat grows ever more unbearable, itself seeming to sweat syrup. There were huge containers of hot amber sludge, and our guide let it drip out from a faucet on her hand, for us to sample. Her hands were very small for her body, and her nails long. I shrank back, having a phobia of tiny hands and of nails in general.

Deeper in, it grew suddenly cold. White fluffy flakes flew in air. It coated the walls and the floors, gushed out from tubes. Sugar filled my mouth and nose, it frosted my hair and greased my skin. At this point I started to worry that one girl with severe diabetes was going to die. Once outside I wanted to rip off my body and bare all my insides to clean air.

Fortunately the girl with diabetes did not die. Even more fortunately, this experience did not spoil my taste for sugary confections nor beets. I suppose it doesn’t matter, though – in this country, there is no day without treats nor beets.