It was a rainy Wednesday in November, we had just ordered food and Marnix, Jens and I sat around a round table in Marnix's studio. It was the third time that Jens would eat Indian cuisine ever, so now he got to order. This would be the meeting that defined some or our larger decisions about our trip. Before we knew it the doorbell rang and we unwrapped our presents. A rich smell filled the room and only had to close our eyes to already imagine us to be there. We chatted, our enthusiasm made our senses disappear. It was delicious. Suddenly I felt a kick! A sting. An itching feeling, sweat appearing on the very top of my head and that feeling slowly made it down through neck, shoulders and lower back. I looked around. Was I the only one? Marnix nostrils flared and his forehead condensed. No.. I wasn't the only one. But Jens kept discussing the spare parts we needed to bring: "..maybe a spare spark plug, cause those might be more difficult to find". I tried to make eye contact with Marnix, but he was in his own world as well. I looked down and saw the cause. I had placed the three curries in equal scoops on my plate with a hill of rice play as a negotiator of flavours. But I hadn't been paying attention. My spoon still showed evidence that my last scoop didn't succeed in involving a single grain of rice, or any of the Butter Chicken or Tikka Masala. It was the other one. I was now at the mercy of the spice. My training would finally come into practice. A good dish needs a four elements: Salt, fat, acid and heat. Master these four, master the kitchen. Now, I believe spice is the next dimension. It gives emotional to the dish, meaning and purpose to a destination. It enables expression. And fear... fear is essential. Because what's life without risk? Alex Honnold puts it like this: "If you don't experience real fear from time to time, and you don't experience real danger, your mind just sort of creates fears out of nothing". Now I'm not equally weighing spicy peppers to free solo, but I am saying it's good to relativize. All worries of day to day life don't seem too big. It's that little drop of sweat forming at your eyebrow. Tears of happiness. It was a rainy Wednesday in November. I had just arrived and Jens was ordering food. "What do you want?" He asked. "I first want to find a loo" I told him, while removing coat. "Alright!" He said, "Two vindaloo"