π Dropping a divide
As it turns out, liquorice ("drop") is actually not universally hated by everyone except the Dutch and Scandinavians. Rather, it is very controversial among my fellow students and teachers.
Why dropping drop?
As I wrote recently, I would share Dutch drop (liquorice) with my fellow students and teachers. This stuff can't be bought in Ukraine (or most places outside the Netherlands and Northern Europe). So when you put a bag of this stuff on the table, it immediately draws attention.
Most people needed an explanation of what it was, actually. Some people already knew. Some people were instantly addicted. Others just loathed the stuff. To my utter surprise, the divide between them is not national or cultural but very individual.
Droppers vs Dropless
My teacher Sofiia tried a little bit of drop. She immediately contorted her face with muscles I didn't know existed. She soon spat it out β after some initial hesitation because that seemed "indecent", bless her soul. Those with previous drop experience will know spitting it out brings zero solace β you'll still be tasting drop for the next half hour.
Teacher Danylo, however, loved the stuff β to both my surprise and Sofiia's horror and disapproval. Then, as it turns out, fellow Dutchman Daan, with whom I'd felt a real kinship, declared his complete loathing for drop as well! This time, the shock and disapproval were mine. How can I present liquorice as Dutch food culture with such infighting?! Luckily, it would soon turn out that liquorice gathers enough controversy on its own to conveniently forget not all Dutch people like it either.
Dropping judgment
I jokingly suggested we should make a list where people can declare their verdict. Teacher Danylo immediately took action and prepared an actual page with the question "Do you like lakrytsiu (liquorice)?" and columns for Yes ("Π’Π°ΠΊ") and No ("ΠΡ").
No secret ballot here β simply public naming and shaming
Boy, that list got a life of its own.
The liquorice taste test led to a real divide among our population. Sitting on the fence wasn't an option β socially, or practically, with only two columns on the list.
Sofiia was quick to put her name firmly and boldly under the No column. She then took it upon herself to warn other people about the abomination that is drop. Danylo however promoted the liquorice. Now both of them were recruiting victims among students and staff to participate in this taste test β totally without peer pressure.
Naturally, this unexpected intensity required careful and responsible handling.
So the next day, I brought my second and last bag of liquorice β to really cement the divide in our group between the droppers and the dropless. I'm sorry to the new wave of students who will start in week 4 β they will not get to know of this drop, but science simply demands a verdict. Nay, the people demand it!
Dropping out
It seems that, with two bags of liquorice consumed, we have 18 droppers versus 9 dropless. (Originally, there were 11 dropless but 2 converted to the correct side.) This outcome, honestly, was completely unexpected. I may need to start a liquorice shop in Lviv.
Meanwhile at the University, the next controversial poll was put on a new paper: "Describe your thoughts on smetana (sour cream) in one word." Ukrainians seem to love that stuff as much as the Dutch like mayonnaise β although only mayonnaise is actually tasty.
