Monday afternoon my youngest brother calls me to work inviting Pete and I over for dinner. I was tired, but he gesture seemed so cute we couldn’t say no. When we arrived to my parents house, Pichi had marinated some steaks, adding rosemary on top, prepared potatoes, and made appetizers: caprese salad and prosciutto plate. He set the table and managed to buy a bottle of wine.
Obviously we never ever expected that. I honestly thought having siblings was the coolest thing on the planet. His details were so meticulously planned that I thought it was mini me doing dinner.
When we got home I started thinking brotherhood. Is the reason to join a fraternity or sorority because we want to feel like we had more siblings?
Siblings are the best gift parents can give to their kids.
These were the best pastries I had ever had in my life.
Pete and I had been on a plane for a while now, as soon as we landed in Ireland we got breakfast, the restaurant was the chocolate lounge. If you’re in the Dublin airport stop by this place!
The reason for this title is because when I moved to New York, my cousin made a comment: Americans are always from somewhere else.
This is a big difference between Venezuelans and Americans, Pete and I always joke about it now. When you ask an American where is he from, they will tell you I’m half irish, half italian (or something along this lines). After a comment like that, you tend to assume 2 things:
1. His parents must be Italians or Irish
2. He speaks fluent both languages ( in this case only Italian).
Then you realize it’s neither. It’s probably his great grandfather came from Ireland/Italy and never passed down the traditions of knowing the language…. Yet the pizza, pasta and beer drinking are engraved in their systems!
When you ask a Venezuelan, where is he from, they will tell you venezuela. Even if their parents are from somewhere else and they speak fluent another language.