I remember the first time I tried an olive.  It was at my uncle’s home in Dubai and he offered me this strange round fruit.  I asked him what it was.  “An Olive,” he said.  Hmmm.  An olive.  I decided I should try it out.  I think it was a black olive but I cannot recall.  I remember a bitterness in my mouth and I remember wondering how someone could like this fruit.  I saw all the adults eat it.  It must have been something “adult” otherwise, I would have enjoyed it too.  I can’t remember more than that.
My next olive memory comes from my visits to the supermarket with my dad.  We would buy the unpackaged olives that were still in solution contained in large plastic containers.  I remember getting both the green and the black ones.  I think by then I loved the olive; I was eating it a lot.  I think I was trying to determine if I liked the green or the black one the best.  I don’t recall what I had chosen then.  I do believe it might have been the black olive, but that was then.
In America, sure you get the bottled olives, but some stores have olive bars in them.  Whole foods (the store that slices the jackfruit) has an impressive array of the fruit.  I’ve just resorted to buying the bottles now.  I’m not so picky to have the ones from the olive bar, although they are tastier.  I’ve had jalapeño stuffed olives or even garlic stuffed olives.  I like them all.
Today I was just craving an olive and for the most part I have some at home.  As I got a few olives out of the jar, I wondered about when this whole process of myself eating olives started.  That’s when my memory went to my uncle’s home when I first tried it out.  I still can’t believe I did not like it at all.  Who would have thought?

Search This Blog

About Me

It’s hard to introduce oneself. What do I say? I come from a varied background. Born in India, spent part of my childhood in Dubai and have been in the USA since I was 16. I consider myself a citizen of the world. And I’m more of a kumbaya type of person. Why can’t we all get along?

Other Posts

Truth be told

Should one write in hurt and anger?  After all writing is catharsis.  And when one feels unimportant and considered a second thought, why not?  Of

Read More »

The end of an era

Today is Thanksgiving Day 2016 and I’m sitting at home in my PJs, on my computer, in between household tasks of cleaning and laundry.  Sudden

Read More »

Mine! Mine! Mine!

I know I sound like a 2 year old throwing a tantrum, but let me explain.  I’ve been a writer all my life.  I write

Read More »