Sometimes there are smells that take you a million miles away. Sometimes they are smells you don’t remember until they find you again. I opened a salad that my husband made for lunch last week and it took me straight to Italy. I spent a summer studying there between my freshmen and sophomore year. I loved it. Every second of it. It was the trip that made me decided I wanted to work abroad at some point. Little did I know then that I would not only work abroad but I’d marry a Brit and buy a home in England.
Every day we would go to a little café across the street from the University of Verona and order insalata di tonno senza cipolle. And the second I opened my salad I was transported back there. It didn’t matter that I was in the middle of the office on a wet and cold January day. One smell and all I could see, hear and taste was Verona. Sitting in that café on a warm summer afternoon, slightly uncomfortable in my surroundings, worried about saying something wrong in a language that wasn’t my own, but being utterly in love with each second I was there.
There is a health kick in my house. Nothing to do with me and I am not sure how long it will last. But it does mean I get a little piece of Italy right now when I eat my lunch.