Is a friendship measurable? I have a theory. If you ever lost a truly beloved one try to remember the ones that attended the funeral service. When my mother passed away, not only did I count on my better half’s unconditional support (which I cannot live without) along with his wonderful family but also on friends who wouldn't be anywhere else but there, by my side.
For me, Italy invokes the best feelings we can have in life: the pleasure of food, of a conversation among friends, of the union in a family, of the moment when our skin prickles when we first look at Santa Croce in Florence, of the streets full of clotheslines in Palermo, or the splendid color of the Lago di Como.
Think about the remarkable trips you've done in your life or the sweetest childhood memories. Picture an exciting weekend with your friends. Chances are enormous that food played a key role within most of these circumstances. We rely on food to make the most of our experiences just as food can resonate pleasant emotions because of the way it is experienced.
São Paulo is not a place for the faint hearted, it makes you grow a thick skin. And writing about it, where I lived half of my life, brings up deep and buried feelings that once made me so much want to be there and to be part of something special. As a result of living there, I also made friends who became family. Is blood really thicker than water? I wonder.
The way the Dutch have been interacting with food is completely different from what it was four years ago. And way much better! I apologize to my Dutch friends, but the truth is their gastronomy used to be one of the less appealing in the world. Some food habits are hard to understand, but they justify this issue.
I've recently written about a deception which has made me down so much. A sweet friendship has been broken. Like porcelain, you can re-attach those pieces although it will never look the same again. No matter how much time goes by, such flaws will always evoke a fragile bond that has fallen apart.
