From Tourist to Tomatoes

I still remember the feeling of my first trips through the city.  I was always lost - from the moment my hosts and I left the apartment until the moment we arrived at our destination.  There was no continuity from one place to the next.  I simply walked out the door and appeared in a new location.  Since everything was so new, every day was mysterious.  And I lived each day in a blur of happy confusion.

I don't tend to see those initial destinations these days.  They were fun to experience once, but not worth spending time and money on over and over and over.  The little pig someone fitted into a bigger pig and cooked up for my gourmet meal was delicious, but not something I need every month.  The palace is magnificent, but I prefer to see it from the highest crest of my weekly park walk and skip the crowds milling through the courtyard.  Segovia is beautiful, and will still be beautiful the next time I am entertaining a special visitor.

In this much more routine month of my life, I bought a tomato plant.  I was leaving guitar class, on my way to an errand, when the sight of it changed my evening.  I left the errand for some other day and raced home with a $5 cherry tomato vine.  Thrilled with what I had found, I sent my dad a picture on the way home from the store.

Tomatoes are a symbol of tradition and stability for me and my Dad.  Many of our favorite memories together are of our times planting tomato plants outside of our various homes.  We planted them no matter where we lived, and they bore fruit wherever we went. 

  I can hear him and see him in the garden with me.  “Hammer down that stake and I’ll tie it up”.  His brow is wet with sweat and soon we will go inside to cool down.  Mom is planting carrots with Ryan and Christy.  The sun is setting over the farmer’s fields. The soil is dark and fertile. 

Now my little tomato plant carries the symbolism of all those memories in a city that was once a foreign land.  I pass it every day on the balcony and it reminds me that Jeni and I have made a life here.  We are so much a part of the city that we are harvesting fruit warmed by the Madrid sun.  

Yesterday I relived one more tradition my Dad has taught me - the sharing of the first harvest.  I plucked the two plump early bloomers from the little vine and sliced them thin into taste sized pieces.  I sliced a soft cheese and sprinkled some basil on the plate with a hint of salt.  I made sure everybody in our home got to try a piece so we could all enjoy tasting the treasure that we will have this Summer.

Bringing old family traditions into my life in Madrid has been a lasting pleasure. It gives me a sense of connection to my family in the states and it gives my current home an additional sense of peace. What traditions have you brought from childhood into your new life?  Are there any you want to add now?