I grew up in Ecuador, a small country in South America
bordered by Colombia and Peru. I lived in the coast of the country in a city
called Manta. Manta is one of the main seaports in the country. Fishing is a
major and most common occupation in the city so that meant that we could have
fresh fish or any other sea creature on the table for lunch, dinner or even breakfast.
My parents love to exercise and they are very active, since
the beach was only ten minutes away from our house, they liked to go there for
a walk in the mornings before they went to work. On Sundays they would take me
and my sister and after we were done, we would go to this place only a few
minutes away from the beach where fishermen sold what they caught in their
nests earlier. That was the place where you could find any type of fish that habituates
the waters of that area of the Pacific Ocean.
My mother loves cooking and she also loves fish. On the
other hand, I do not like seafood at all, specially fish. Every week, she used
to cook fish soup, ceviche or other
meals that included fish. My sister and I would hate it, especially the fish soup,
we couldn’t stand it. We did not have other option than to eat it every Sunday
which was the day when mom used to cook it. So I remember that my mother would
sit with us in the dinner table and wait until we eat it. Sometimes it took
hours but she would have the patience to stare at us until we finish the last
spoon of it.
After several months of eating it every Sunday, my sister
and I ended up liking it. Nowadays, I miss it because it reminds me of my
childhood and those long walks at the beach Sunday mornings.
