... for some reason these days feel like a NASCAR race, so many laps, or in my case days, are inching closer and closer to that white checkered flag. It is 12:40am here in Bergamo, as you can see by the time of day in the States, or in Italy, night. My sleeping schedule is just all messed up. For six months I think I never really adjusted to the GMT time zone here in Europe, not that I am complaining. I think staying up late and being able to talk with family and friends back in the US on their time has been beneficial to me. Well, to be honest, more sane at the least. Being that it is already the 10th, 28 Days to the Center of Sergio brings you yet another installment of the weird world of Esteban, or just me for those of you unaware of my Spanish alias.
So 19, wow, I told you, the days are really flying by here. Me and the number 19, I think today I will take a different approach to the blog. Unlike my previous installments I typically provide some story line to the whole meaning associated with the given days number and my life. While todays entry is still going to provide insight, it is going to be a simplified version.
Coming to Italy, and to Spain for that fact, I have really got back in tune with some of the better things in life. Things that I forgot, or some of the things that due to my previous set back blocked me from enjoying. In Europe, the availability of fresh produce is so convenient, and cheap might I add. On every street, at every corner, you are more than likely to run into some kind of fruit and/or veggie shop. Growing up, I always stay at my grandparents house in Boyle Heights. There my grandmother was often cooking and providing us with some quality grub. Now that I am talking grub and being at my grandparents house, I can tell you this, my grandfather loved his breakfast, I think he loved every meal, but for some reason I always got the hunch that breakfast was his favorite. I say this because even though my grandfather was this tough male figure, the man clearly had a sweet tooth. The amount of sugar he would put in his coffee was pretty staggering to be honest, after a while my grandmother would tell us to make sure grandpa doesn't put that much sugar, but I was not trying to get in the way of a man trying to enjoy his cafe con leche y pan.
However, one thing being in Europe I have gone back to, that my grandpa got me hooked on, was the use of bananas. He was obsessed with putting sliced up bananas in his avena in the mornings. Now I was never a big fan of the actual banana in some hot oatmeal, too mushy if you ask me, but my grandfather is certainly the root of my love for bananas in general. I could eat bananas all day, fry them up, peel them, at them in some dry oats, or my favorite, dip them in some Nutella, it does not matter. Bananas, not berries, go down as my favorite fruit. I mean being an athlete this a great thing, not only do bananas taste great, they are also high in potassium. Which is great for preventing muscle cramps and just a good source of some tasteful energy during games. Potassium, atomic number 19, just like the days remaining in Europe and the main chemical element found in my favorite fruit, bananas.
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