There is a very distinctive smell that I associate with Brazil.

Garlic.

Way back in the early 80′s when I first moved to Brazil, I didn’t know what cooking garlic smelled like. Every morning I’d wake up and smell this smell that was unlike any that my memory banks could categorize. It took me months to be able to develop the vocabulary that enabled me to both ask and to understand.

Garlic.

Every morning here on the base of YWAM, the smell of garlic comes wafting into our classroom. It is so tantalizing; you know the cooks are whipping up something that is going to be really good. The bad part is that you smell it for 3-4 hours before you actually get to eat… my tummy starts making strange noises after about an hour and I begin poising myself for a quick sprint to get as close as possible to the head of the lunch line.

I find it so interesting how Abba utilizes our senses to create indelible memories that can follow us our entire life. The smell of cooking garlic always sings a tantalizing sonnet of love for me that I call Brazil.

As our culture is so prone to say about good things… sweet.