(no subject)
Whenever I feel nostalgic for my own country, it's usually through actual things that will trigger the memories. A more recent instance came from my dad's new bicycle, which my mom got for him for Christmas. It immediately reminded me of the many years back when I was 10 or so that I used to pedal through the whole neighborhood; either by myself or with my brother and the other neighboring kids. Plenty of times we'd go out to gather mangoes, since we had mango trees all over the place, and in less than an hour we'd come home with bagfuls so heavy sometimes the handles would break.
Sometimes we'd just grab a modest handful of mangoes from a chosen tree and eat them under its shade. We had a thing for green mangoes, which are harder compared to the ripe ones, and of course very tart. Whenever we had intentions of eating green mangoes, we'd pack some salt in little bags or containers so we could dip the fruit in them before eating. It may sound gross, but my mouth is actually watering right now as I'm typing! It's good stuff (well, if you like tart and salty things).
Other fruit my friends, brother and I would gather sometimes were cocoplums, or "icaco" (of which my family and I had a shrub growing in our yard), and out of which my grandma can make the yummiest homemade dessert.
Then there were the mamones, which were really sweet and really juicy, except our parents usually warned us to not eat them so frequently, since they feared we could choke with the round seeds. Fortunately that never happened, though we did have a bit of a scare one time when my little sister actually swallowed one, which was fortunately small enough to not get stuck in her throat.
Even before the time of mangoes, icacos and mamones, one of my favorite fruit I grew up with was the sapodilla (which we call "níspero"). I still think it's my favorite fruit, even though I haven't tasted it in a really long time. It's got a soft, sweet, grainy flavor. So incredibly yummy.
Geez, I think I could go on talking about little things that remind me of my childhood in Venezuela: My grandma's homemade sweets, the bougainvillea flowers we used to have dripping out of the balcony of our 3rd floor apartment back when I was 6 or so; the endless hibiscus bushes around the neighborhood, the swallows that would cover the sky and invade our trees every winter. We also had the bike trips to the lake wall, which we'd climb as if it were a hill until we came face to face with the Lake Maracaibo, completely crowded with oil wells that we could smell from where we stood. Oftentimes we'd go up there to watch the sun go down.
Many times I've wanted to grab all these memories and make them into a story. I'll just have to figure out how to do it. :)
Sometimes we'd just grab a modest handful of mangoes from a chosen tree and eat them under its shade. We had a thing for green mangoes, which are harder compared to the ripe ones, and of course very tart. Whenever we had intentions of eating green mangoes, we'd pack some salt in little bags or containers so we could dip the fruit in them before eating. It may sound gross, but my mouth is actually watering right now as I'm typing! It's good stuff (well, if you like tart and salty things).
Other fruit my friends, brother and I would gather sometimes were cocoplums, or "icaco" (of which my family and I had a shrub growing in our yard), and out of which my grandma can make the yummiest homemade dessert.
Then there were the mamones, which were really sweet and really juicy, except our parents usually warned us to not eat them so frequently, since they feared we could choke with the round seeds. Fortunately that never happened, though we did have a bit of a scare one time when my little sister actually swallowed one, which was fortunately small enough to not get stuck in her throat.
Even before the time of mangoes, icacos and mamones, one of my favorite fruit I grew up with was the sapodilla (which we call "níspero"). I still think it's my favorite fruit, even though I haven't tasted it in a really long time. It's got a soft, sweet, grainy flavor. So incredibly yummy.
Geez, I think I could go on talking about little things that remind me of my childhood in Venezuela: My grandma's homemade sweets, the bougainvillea flowers we used to have dripping out of the balcony of our 3rd floor apartment back when I was 6 or so; the endless hibiscus bushes around the neighborhood, the swallows that would cover the sky and invade our trees every winter. We also had the bike trips to the lake wall, which we'd climb as if it were a hill until we came face to face with the Lake Maracaibo, completely crowded with oil wells that we could smell from where we stood. Oftentimes we'd go up there to watch the sun go down.
Many times I've wanted to grab all these memories and make them into a story. I'll just have to figure out how to do it. :)