5. Food: What’s for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a cafe.
This may be the post that I enjoy writing the most…maybe not. It started with a rhyme so you can dock me a few points.
What I wish I had for breakfast? The top right corner. Waffles with chocolate sauce and strawberries from a tiny shop in Brussels.
What I wish I had for lunch? The top left corner. A burger with bacon, egg, spinach, and a whole bunch of deliciousness that I wish I could remember. This burger bar was my first meal in Amsterdam.
For a snack I would love to wander around the streets of Brussels again. Not in the search for the one euro waffle, but to find the bottom right corner. Belgian Frites that come from a stand that has about twenty different sauces to pick from, and make my mouth water.
For dinner? My favorite meal that I had while in Venice, Carbonara. From a restaurant that my parents and I found after a day of wandering the crazy, dizzying canals. A place with dress ties hanging from the rafters.
The one important treat that is not featured in the feature image is my one true love, gelato. When my best friend learned that I was going to embark on an Italian adventure she remarked, “BON GELATO.” Which in Italian of course means nothing but I understood the sentiment. I spent nearly three weeks in Italy and I ate gelato every single day, sometimes twice. It was my mission to find the best gelato in all of Italy, and I may have found it in the eternal city of Rome. Gelateria Valentino. It is just a short walk away from the Trevi Fountain, and while you may think this makes it a tourist trap you can rest easy. It will be the best trap that you ever walk in to.
Above, it may just look like pictures of delicious food but each one for me is a memory. Food is much more then what forces us to visit the gym. It is what brings us together. It’s a moment to pause and enjoy all that you have been given, and all the beauty that surrounds you. I know this is beginning to sound like a page torn from a fat girl’s diary, but some of my fondest memories or times where I laughed the hardest was over a table where I was eating, drinking, and sharing stories with the best people I know.
You don’t have to travel to Europe to experience all of this. Explore your local cuisine, have a dinner party (cook at your own risk), and do it with the people you love. Also, remember to treat your body like a temple. Every few cheeseburgers make sure to take a nice run, kind of like how you have to have an oil change every so many miles. Now I’m hungry.