There seems to be a lot of confusion about when the official Chocolate Day is to be observed. Some groups say it’s yesterday, July 7, while others celebrate it on October 28th. I heard there’s even a World Chocolate Day on September 4th. In the interest of peace and harmony, and to end all the debates, I hereby declare EVERYDAY as Chocolate Day! Chocolate is, after all, supposed to unite us–not divide us.
I bet every other person says he or she is a chocoholic. But I take my chocolate seriously. I know my Belgians from my Swiss, my Japanese from Lebanese–chocolates, I mean. I’ve always considered myself thrifty or even stingy when it comes to buying stuff like clothes, shoes and bags, but I tend to dig deeper into my pockets when purchasing chocolate. I can be quite extravagant when faced with these brown nuggets of happiness. Each time I’m in a different country, I make sure to sample the chocolate products a particular place is known for: I bought Ghirardelli bars from the Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco, California; ate Mozartkugeln in Salzburg, Austria; waited in line to buy a few hundred grams of Leonidas chocolate in Brussels, Belgium; and enjoyed Sarotti and Ritter Sport during my year-long stay in Germany. If that doesn’t make me a true-blue chocoholic, then I don’t know anymore.
My love affair with chocolate dates back to my childhood days, when my mom used to indulge us with imported chocolates she used to buy from the PX goods stores in my hometown of Olongapo. My childhood favorites were Butterfinger and Nestle Crunch. I used to keep a collection of all the chocolate wrappers of the different brands I’ve tasted stashed away somewhere in my parents’ house. My youngest sister thought she could use that information against me by letting it slip to one of my suitors when I was in my late teens-early twenties. It did not embarrass me at all. I am a chocoholic, and I’m proud of it!
Nowadays I buy all sorts of chocolate brands and even go to chocolate specialty shops just to have my fix. My happiness is multiplied by the fact that I get to share my love of chocolate with my daughter Bea. She is now a mini-chocoholic, and who could blame her?