Con Limon y Sal

There is a type of citrus fruit here called Limon. It is not an orange, lemon, or lime, but rather a type of sour mandarin. It is usually a deep green color with distinct bumpy skin which, when scratched, released that delicious, fresh, mandarin smell. It is everywhere here, replacing lemons and limes and oranges en total. And, in my opinion, good riddance. Ticos make ceviche with it, dress salads with the juice, sweeten it to drink, and if you are on the coast, you order your cervesa "con limon y sal".

Every time I travel, I find that my most favorite memories are either taste or olfactory-based. In Greece, I can still recall the taste of the sweet cherry kir served to me along with the best chicken gyro I have ever eaten. To remember that taste opens up other memories of that day: the feel of the hot sun filtering through the branches of the large tree shading the cafe's patio, the sound of the pigeons in the tree and of the man who's only apparent job was to scare the pigeons away so they wouldn't poop on people. The church bells, my aching feet, white tablecloths, and feeling quite grubby compared with the impeccably dressed Greeks.

In Australia, it was the smell of the frangipane flowers. Like it's Hawaiian cousin, the plumeria, the scent was all over the city of Darwin. I looked and looked for a perfume, a soap, anything so I could take that smell with me and finally found a shampoo and conditioner that I ended up using that whole trip. It brings forth memories of sunshine, sand, canyons, waterfalls, urban Sydney, pints of beer, and steak and potatoes.

Here, it's totally the smell of the effervescent limon.

And maybe weed...