Scientifically, the sense of smell is most closely linked to
memory.
The smell of fresh lilacs-- my favorite scent--brings me to
the lilac bush, under the shade of the maple tree my sister and I still fight
over with who planted it, next to the garage.
The scent of mud, specifically earthy and wet with
dandelions and grass mixed in, brings me sitting on cool cement beneath the
deck, making mud pies with my mom.
The scent of earth, musky and hearty, brings me to beneath
the garage where we used to keep cans for recycling and a cat once had kittens
and we used to keep our beat up lawnmower.
The scent of real jasmine, the kind that gets blown through
the air on a warm summer breeze, brings me to a beautiful back yard, sitting on
the edge of a pool surrounded by what I can only describe as my dream. The
avocado tree creating moon shadows, the oranges and lemons hanging on their
respective branches like Chinese lanterns, and the glow from the pool creating a
cool, green glow on my two best friends’ happy faces. I get transported to that
backyard every time I get a whiff of genuine jasmine and it blows my mind every
time.
To me, the fact that sense of smell is so linked to memory, it only makes sense that the sense of taste is very similar. While this might
not be scientifically true, I don’t care much. Because this week I was transported
to years ago with a bite of cake. It is mind boggling to me that it is years ago now, but it
brought me back to 2011. It brought me back to a different relationship, a
different country, a different me.
I can remember certain things in the smallest, most minute detail. All together, I spent nearly (over?) four weeks of 2011 in Nicaragua. A small country south of Mexico, nestled right next to Costa Rica. I spent my time there slathered in SPF 50+, at the pool, at the beach, or wandering around a country I knew next-to-nothing about. But sometimes, when I put on a specific fragrance of deodorant, I get transported to the tiled, dark bathroom I spent every morning.
I spent one night at a resort on the side of a mountain
overlooking San Juan del Sur. I was dressed in a dress he liked and I felt
pretty in. We sat next to a pool and
drank drinks and ate a tres leches cake watching the sun set
over the ocean and mountain and were in love.
We ate tres leches multiple
times, him telling me it’s authentic and this place and that place had the best
ones.
My boss created an adorable menu for his wife for her 30th
birthday with courses named after their children and adventures, and they too
had a memory linked to tres leches. I didn’t want to spoil the dinner with a
recipe that wasn’t worthy, so I made two and told him if he didn’t like the
first, he could toss the second and get his baker-friend to make a fresh one
for his dinner. I tried it first. It was
better than the cupcake I made years ago. It brought me to the Pelican Eyes
Resort and sitting at the open air bar with a piece of tres leches and a drink
in front of me, watching the sun set over the ocean.
I am happy where I am now. But it sure is interesting to
remember where you’ve been.
