The Sour Scent of Love

Posted by Rachel Elliott on Jun 18, 2011 | 0 comments

Biologists claim that smells create the best memories.   If this statement is true, then  I will never be able to forget our latest adventure.

I can honestly say that I didn’t really pay to much attention to the halloumi making process.  I couldn’t endure the sour milk smell.  I can also say that I will never look at cheese or milk the same way again.

So what did I learn?

While not paying attention to the halloumi process,  I spent some time in the house’s courtyard.  I couldn’t help, but notice how everyone in the surrounding houses made there way out to take a peek.  I lost track of who was coming from what house, how many people there were and I had a hard time figuring out who was related to who.  My two favorite characters were the little girl so excited to play that she probably tripped in fell about 50 times, and the other little boy who later came out in his roller blades to show off.

Neighbors, extended family, bus drivers  whatever they were  I learned that a sense of community and love had no boundaries or a language barrier.

Of course they were  the most hospitable people in the world too.  The second we walked in they were already gathering chairs outside to make sure everybody had one.  During the longer stages of cheese making  process they brought us juice, two different types of bread and halloumi.  They didn’t even mind if I munched on their freshly picked olives either.  The doors of their house were wide open, and  I find it no coincidence that there was a statue of Aphrodite outside a window.

I can’t tell you how many times I remember being told in Sunday school, and later in life  have even taught kids in Sunday school to love your neighbor as yourself.  I’ve learned that Cypriots have the biggest hearts in the world, and truly understand what it means to love your neighbor.  So now when I smell sour milk,  I think love.