63 Life Chapter: Warmth in My Blood
It has been a while since I wrote a Life Chapter.
I quickly reread the last one, and the theme park trip is happening soon. In fact, it is this Saturday. Eight people from the dance community are coming.
I didn't spam the group chat. I asked once, and that was it. I am really happy that some people are willing to join. I also didn't want to put too much effort into convincing people because I didn't want to end up disappointed if no one wanted to come.
At the time of writing this, I also have a family dinner coming up. Well... lunch... you get the gist.
I haven't heard much from my dad's side of the family in years, but on my mom's side we still have a family gathering twice a year. It is mostly my uncle who has kept the tradition alive. Although, over the years, I have organised several of them myself.
This time, my uncle got fed up with trying to organise everyone, so I stepped up. I called him to ask if he was okay with it, and I kept the same restaurant he had suggested.
Those family gatherings are important to some of us.
Whenever we eat together, we become very Spanish. I can't really explain it, but it just feels very different from a typical Belgian family gathering. We are loud, we laugh loudly, everybody talks over each other, and somehow it all makes sense.
Oh, and we speak three languages in one sentence.
"Daniel, dame de wijn, por favor, you handsome bastard."
It could genuinely sound something like that. I honestly don't always notice it anymore. Usually there is English or French mixed together with Spanish and Dutch.
Actually... maybe that wasn't so hard to explain after all.
If you have southern roots or grew up speaking several languages in your family, you might get it.
I am glad that, even several years after my Llalla, what we always called our grandmother, passed away, we still keep these gatherings alive.
There was a period years ago where I barely attended them. I was too busy gaming, and honestly, I didn't feel like answering the usual questions.
"Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
"How's work?"
Back then, those questions annoyed me.
Now they don't.
I realised that family is important.
I wish my dad would change his mind and join us again, but it has been years since he attended one of these gatherings. Thinking back, the period where I stopped going was around the same time he did.
I don't know how long these gatherings will continue, but I have faith they will last for many more years.
There is one regret that still lingers, though now that I mentioned my Llalla.
I regret not being married or having children while my Llalla was still alive.
I am the second oldest of all my cousins. I always imagined that she would have met my wife and maybe even one of my children.
I think that is what I truly regret.
Her not being there when I eventually have my own family.
Whenever we have these family gatherings, I think about her more than usual.
To be honest, I think about her often.
I hope I made her proud.
At the same time, I am strangely glad she never saw me during my depression. I think it would have broken her heart.
My uncles have told me several times that it was never a secret I was her favourite grandchild.
I still don't really know why.
I honestly think several of my cousins are far more impressive people than I am.
Although...
I was also the only grandchild who was raised by her for a good part of my childhood.
Maybe that has something to do with it.
Lately I have started cooking some of the dishes she used to make.
Mostly from memory.
Whenever I can't remember something, my mom fills in the missing pieces.
About a week ago, while grocery shopping, I found something that instantly brought me back to my childhood.
Maria cookies.
My Llalla always had them in her kitchen cupboard.
I honestly didn't expect to find them so easily in Belgium.
There is another thing that immediately reminds me of her: Cola Cao.
It is a Spanish chocolate powder that every grandchild in the family still drinks to this day.
I know because we either post about it on social media or end up talking about it during family gatherings.
If you ever want to try one of the simplest Spanish comfort foods from the region we are from, here is one she used to make.
Take a slice of bread, fry it in a little olive oil until it is golden, then sprinkle sugar over it.
That's it.
Simple.
It is called pan con aceite y azúcar, and sometimes the simplest recipes become the ones you remember forever.
Lately I have been thinking about making a recipe book with all the food my Llalla used to cook.
My mom is still here.
Now is the time.
I already told her that I want her to teach me everything she knows.
She already has, to a certain extent, but I want to learn even more Spanish dishes before those recipes disappear with time.
Recently I finally perfected my tortilla de patatas y cebolla.
My mom had her own way of making it, and over time I also learned a few different techniques.
Funny how cooking can connect generations.
I think I want to go back to Spain again soon.
Or at least start planning another trip.
My family is originally from Peñarroya-Pueblonuevo, a town in the southern part of Andalusia. After the Second World War there wasn't a lot of work there, so they moved north. My mom was born in northern Spain, and eventually one of my grandad's sisters told them there was work and a life to build in Belgium. That is how my family ended up here.
I honestly didn't expect this Life Chapter to turn out like this, but I am glad it did. It always happens when I start writing. I start with one thing, then I start thinking, and somehow it always leads me to a conclusion or something I want.
The conclusion this time is this.
I want to keep my mom's side of the family together.
I want to know more about my Spanish roots.
Even though I still do Duolingo, it isn't enough anymore. I think after I move out and lose the weight, I want to take proper Spanish classes and travel around the southern part of Spain.
Funny enough, I am not great at speaking Spanish, but whenever I do, people tell me I have a southern accent. The first time someone told me that I was eighteen. I remember feeling relieved and strangely connected to that part of myself.
And lately, especially after writing this chapter, I feel even more connected to my Spanish side.
Secretly, I have always felt more Spanish than Belgian.
Even though I feel more Spanish, I am proud to be both.
They both have wonderful food, culture, and traditions.
Maybe one day I'll make a Belgian-Spanish recipe book.
I just came back from the family gathering, and a lot of relatives said they felt sorry for the people sitting near us because we are so loud. They said people must think we are a bit crazy.
It made me smile because I had already written about that in this blog, and they didn't even know. I don't even think they know I have a blog, yet they were basically saying the exact same thing I wrote: that we Spanish people are loud.
It was a good family gathering.
I wish my Llalla could have seen it.
My uncle said, "Andy, sit at the head of the table. You organised it, so you sit there."
So I did.
During a quiet moment, while everyone was talking over each other, I sat there for a second and felt emotional. Some tears welled up in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. I was sitting where my llalla use to sit at the head of the table.
I wondered if my Llalla could see us from heaven.
Even though I don't really believe in God, I like to think she can.
I also wore the ring I bought in remembrance of her. I printed some old family pictures and gave a few to my cousin. One of my cousins had lost the photos he had of my Llalla, so I gave him a few copies.
I also gave one to her eldest great-grandchild. Since he is the oldest of her great-grandchildren, I wanted him to have a picture of the two of them together so he would always have something to remember her by.
It seems the older I get, the more sentimental I become.
Life is short, after all.
this is how i feel lately at peace and relaxed.