And then it happened again, this afternoon. I was ravenous at work and quickly heated a prosciutto and mozzarella panini til slightly burnt and melted (the best...) I ate it standing up, thinking about what I had to do the rest of the day, running lists in my head and calculating the remainder of my week - generally not thinking at all about what I was eating, or even how it tasted. (Which, incidentally, drives me crazy and I try my best to avoid - it seems to be a distinctly American tendency to eat while on the road, running from one thing to another, and not give more than a momentary consideration to that which we shove into our faces to sustain us. Bad. Habits. All.) Anyway, I generally eat this particular panini cold, yet had heated it today on a whim, and the flavor of the hot prosciutto combined with the doughiness of the bread and the co-mingling grease took me abruptly to a lunch counter in Spain. 
We had stopped specifically at this lunch counter, deep in the Basque region, to try their selection of bocadillo - sandwiches made on split bread. In general, and especially while you're there, they seem overly greasy, overly fried, and overly laid with HAM. All kinds and varieties. I tried one with fried prawns and had to ask for mayo lest I choke to death, as they're all served dry, save for the GREASE. I don't know if it's because I generally have a hard time living in the moment, because I'm constantly rushing to the next thing, but I've found that when I travel, it's rare I appreciate where I am and what I'm experiencing at that moment. Some things rush at you full force, especially in parts of the world so foreign from your own, that it's almost easier for me to disengage a little...I think it helps me to take things in? I'm honestly not sure, but I work on rectifying it daily. A consequence of such behavior is that at times completely unrelated to a certain place or time, I'm overcome by memories of places and people and foods and drinks that have changed me, that have made me the person I am. And nine times out of ten, these memories are brought on by smells and tastes. And if you'd asked me then, on that bar stool eating lunch in Bilbao, what I thought of the bocadillo I would have told you the truth - they're alright, I like the prosciutto - I never would have anticipated that a year later I would have almost cried from a stupid work sandwich that reminded me so much of the air on the beaches and the smell of fresh octopus served on a wooden plate. And thick chocolate and sugar donuts. And bitter apple cider. Experiencing two of these moments in such a short time got me to thinking about what I associate with other places I've traveled, and oddly (not so oddly?) it took me all of a few minutes to rattle off a list.
Ireland came to mind first - Ireland I can conjure in a waft of peat smoke. Something I'm blessed with on most mornings if I ride North on 13th Street early enough in the day to catch the smells of some happy persons fireplace. In the general vicinity of 13th and Tasker, someone burns peat every morning. And whenever I smell it I worry I'll crash my bike because I'm so busy thinking of Guinness and pubs and laughing - of stepping on stones over water behind my Dad, the picture of my brother holding his arms out to God in the middle of a field full of sky. Of the tiny bakery with white lace curtains that sold us muffins.
I feel Thailand whenever I smell anyone grilling meat over charcoal. I see Italy in giant stacks of lemons - the lemons I saw at the outdoor food market in Turin.
It's comforting to me that it's possible to feel, see and taste these places I've been on a daily basis. Like they're a part of me. I'm fairly certain if I were to ask others about this phenomena they'd agree. I have to wonder if it's as prevalent, though. I genuinely hope that it is. As we grow and change, to be able to become a child again for a moment because of something you picked up at a grocery store for $6.99 seems like a reasonable price. To travel across the globe because of your neighbors barbecue. To relive the happiest, most challenging, fulfilling moments over and over again because of this thing that most of us take so for granted - eating standing in the corner, or at a desk over an assignment of some kind. I hope tomorrow it happens to you, in the most unexpected circumstances, and it makes you cry, in the happiest of ways.
