Bread & Salsa

Who's ready for some random stories?

Bread.

The other day I was sitting in my room doing some homework when my host mom yelled "mi madre!" and continued to freak out a bit. The worst had happened- she forgot to buy bread at the store. (Cultural note: bread is freakishly important here. In a Spaniard's mind, in order to live you need to breathe and consume bread. On national holidays everything is closed except for bread shops). I poked my head out of my room to see what all the commotion was about. Mistake. My madre looked at me, looked at my feet, saw that I still had shoes on, and then got a magical glow in her eyes as if a light bulb had ignited in her mind. She was dressed in her house clothes- an oversized orange velourish sweat suit- and since I still had regular clothes and actual shoes on she pleaded me to go out to the store and buy bread. Before I knew it I was out the door with a piece of paper with the type of bread I was to buy scribbled on it and a euro in my hand. Confused and Non-native, I found my way to the bakery counter in the grocery store. I showed the lady the piece of paper with my order on it and she spat back a bunch of unidentifiable Spanish at me (they don't teach you bakery bargaining lingo in Spanish textbooks). I told her one moment please, and then walked around the store for a bit trying to decipher what she said and figure out a way to not look stupid and purchase my bread. I bucked up, returned to the counter, and was ready to complete my bread mission. I told the lady, with more authority this time, what kind of bread I wanted. She then held up two loaves and told me something to the effect of "here's the one you want, but here's the one you should get". Touché bread lady. I took "the one you should get"...which was a bad choice. When I returned home my host mom not only questioned why I took so long at the store, but she also informed me that I bought the wrong kind. The kind I bought is made with more water and is too airy. The kind she likes is dense and more flavorful. I haven't heard the end of it since. I might go in the kitchen right now and down that loaf of bread just so I don't have to hear about my bread ignorance any more.

Salsa.

For the past three weeks my Irish friend from school has been trying to get everyone from our program to go Salsa dancing at a local club. It's not real Spanish Salsa dancing. It's actually a couple instructors who teach mostly exchange students a few basic steps. Thursday night several people from my AHA group met up to check out this Salsa deal. We started with a group of about ten guys and girls, but somehow only four of us made it to the Salsa place. When the clock struck 11pm the instructor came out and nearly physically forced the six people in the club to dance. The first dance of the night was Merengue. (Neither Salsa nor Merengue are true Spanish dances by the way, feel free to Wikipedia this for further info). It started out with simple forward and back steps and a few hips swings for flavor. Then came the partner moves. This was when hilarity ensued. I was paired with the teddy bear of the AHA group. And by teddy bear I mean grizzly bear because this guy is easily 6'3". With me standing at a small 5'2" you can imagine what a sight we were. As the dance steps got more complex our laughter only got louder. We both chuckled off our lack of dance skills and embraced our humorous height difference. After that the dancing turned into some kind of circular deal where you trade partners time and time again, which got too intense for me. I slyly traded myself out of the dancing circle and called it a night. All in all it was a hilariously fun experience in which I successfully did not learn how to Salsa dance. Oh well, there's always next week!

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

My Spanish has yet to improve tremendously, so I've inadvertently become a liar. My host mom or teachers ask me questions in Spanish and I'm rarely entirely sure of what they're saying. I typically throw back the few Spanish words I know in a different order each time I'm asked a question. It's caused me to give false information about the number of siblings I have, where I'm planning on going, and whether or not I enjoy the food I'm consuming. This tid bit about lying is really random, but it was what motivated my title on this post.

On to more organized thoughts. This weekend AHA planned an excursion for the group. We went to Santillana and Covadonga. In Santillana we went to a historic torture museum. It was disgustingly cool. The worst ancient torture device I saw was an iron pyramid. It had a point at the top that went in one end of the hopefully deserving culprit and came out the other end. Even though it was intriguing, I wasn't able to each my lunch for several hours after that display. After Santillana we rolled out to Covadonga. The most noteworthy part of Covadonga was the alleged Marriage Water. At the base of a mountain, there is a fountain that has seven spouts. If you drink from each spout then marriage will come your way. Start saving your money for a wedding Mom & Dad, I drank the mystical water. Of course every girl in the group got on that asap. It was a grand old time.

Here's another random story, just because I can. My host mom is never home in the mornings so I'm routinely left to scrounge up my own breakfast. I usually have coffee, some fruit, and yogurt. One day last week I decided to branch out with my yogurt. Instead of going for the usual berry brand I grabbed an unknown kind of yogurt from the fridge. It looked harmless, but then I put a spoonful in my mouth and couldn't even choke it down. It tasted like rubber with a similar consistency. Even though I'm usually a trooper about eating food I dislike, I couldn't handle this one. I chucked it in a garbage can outside my apartment so the madre wouldn't see that I wasted food. A couple days later I was eating dinner while my host mom was feeding Samy, the dog. After she fed him his kibble she gave him an after dinner goodie. As I look over, I notice that the aforementioned goodie was the same "yogurt" I'd eaten for breakfast days earlier. Turns out I attempted to chow down on a substance that is meant to regulate Samy's digestion. I basically ate dog food.

I should probably spend some more time with my nose in a Spanish/English dictionary so I can avoid lying and consuming dog food.

Two American Students and a Spaniard

This weekend was a three day weekend, and an eventful one at that. Let me set some scenes for you all.

Friday- Two American girls and a Spaniard walk into a bar. The lighting is dim, the ground is spattered with peanut shells, and the air is thick with cigarette smoke. I sit down on an unusually low stool, unsure of the meaning of the Spanish words whipping past my ears. Suddenly a pint of frothy beer, four small cups, and grande mystery concoction are placed in front of me. The Spaniard starts firing rapid Spanish at my American friend and me. Before I know it I'm bouncing a penny on a filthy table, throwing a sip of the mystery concoction down my throat, and yelling a foreign phrase. Somehow I'd found myself in the middle of a Spanish drinking game.

Ok, ok, by now you're probably thinking who's stolen Kate's computer and written false tales about her? But it's all true, and it's really not as bad and sketchy as it sounds. The Spaniard was my friend's host brother, the son of her host mom, who came home from college for the long weekend. He took us on an insider tour of the city which ended in a bar. It was very neat to learn about the city from him and to hear his views on U.S. politics (he was the first person to tell me Obama got a Nobel Prize). Once we ended up in a bar I informed him that I don't drink, a concept which he couldn't grasp. When he presented us with the drinking game he tamed it down so us nondrinkers could play. The mystery concoction was part beer, part banana drink. I rocked the game so that I wouldn't have to drink much. I had a total of probably three sips of the mixture. No worries everyone, it was a purely cultural experience which did not hinder my sobriety. And that was just Friday night.

Saturday- A hot bus ride. Giant elaborately painted blocks. The smell of the ocean. Breathtaking views. Two pizzas. And a lot of laughter. That was my Saturday in a nutshell. Four other girls and myself planned a day trip to the beautiful coastal town of Llanes. Unfortunately we didn't plan well enough and ended up missing our first bus. With this minor set back, we had about three hours to wander the city. We found a jetty type deal with large cement blocks, all adorned with obscure artwork. It was a memorial for the Cubans...we think. After our idle wandering, we were starved and used jumbled Spanish to get directions to a local Pizzeria. We split two pizzas to satisfy our hunger pangs. It was a beautiful and yummy day.

Sunday- are you ready for some fuuuutttbooolllll!!! On Sunday seven of us headed to Gijon for a day dedicated to soccer. The environment was thick with tension as Asturias' two biggest rivals prepared to face off: Gijon vs. Oviedo. This was a rivalry fought mainly by the fans. As we slowly approached the stadium we saw a sea of red and white, the Gijon team colors. An occasional blue (Oviedo's main color) was spotted, but rare. The fans have a dying devotion to their hometowns and a deep hatred for anyone supports the opposing side.

A first hand example of the hatred: before the game the seven of us sat at a nearby cafe enjoying the surrounding park. We sipped on our coffees when all of a sudden- BANG! A shot was fired. Mayhem broke lose. Hundreds of birds flew in chaotic circles above us. A herd of men ran through the outdoor cafe in a blur of white and red. I was sure I was going to die. One girl from our group was sure she was witnessing the running of the bulls. After moments of sheer confusion and heart-stopping panic, we deduced that the gun shot came from the riot control officers and was merely a warning shot. Needless to say I peed my pants a little.

Once the pre-game rush was over and we made it into the stadium the fans didn't lose any steam. The small, but passionate, Oviedo cheering section was guarded by police officers on all sides. The cheers and jeers of the game consisted mostly of profanities and flying middle fingers. Sadly Oviedo lost in the end 1-0, but it was a good match up. Us seven foreigners kept our mouths shut throughout the extravaganza as to not offend either side, and to keep all of our appendages intact. What a sporting event!

Monday- Monday was supposed to be my day to catch up on sleep and do homework. For the most part it was a fairly uneventful day...until I was slightly horrified by the acts of an all too friendly stranger. Midday a few of us went out for coffee and a good chat. As we were sitting there shooting the breeze a middle aged man came up and started asking us if we're students from the United States. He was talking about wanting to have an English speaking student as a conversation partner in order to improve his English. Then out of no where he takes a sudden interest in me. He asked my name and if it was short for Catalina and where I was from. Then he grabbed the back of my neck all too firmly, told me I had a beautiful smile, and said "un beso" and kissed my cheek four times with enough force to turn me bright red and sufficiently creep me out. Then he walked away and left all of us baffled. That sure is one way to end the weekend.

Congratulations to Spain for giving me one of the most eventful, beautiful, and creepy weekends of my life. And congratulations to any of you readers who made it to the end of this intensely long post.

The Study of Hand Gestures, Facial Expressions, and Body Language

I've officially been in Oviedo for a week! And a hectic one at that. Life here is unlike anything I've ever experienced, and yet at times I forget I'm in a foreign country. The days seems to last forever, but I already feel like I've been here for a month. In this post I'll take you through some of my daily occurrences and throw in a few not-so-typical occurrences as well.

Monday of this week I took the placement test to see which level of Spanish courses I could take. I had fears of being placed too high and needing to come down a level due to an inaccurate test. Boy was I humbled by the results. I placed into Intermediate 1, the lowest of low levels. Go me! It turns out that's exactly where I need to be. I've had two days so far of grammar, vocabulary, art, phonetics, translation, and history. Turns out that's quite the work load, so I'll be cutting out phonetics and art. Anyway, the classes are fairly small, less than 15 students in each. I have classes with about 5 people from my program and the rest are from other international programs. Some students are from a school in Florida, others are from Japan, China, Finland, Germany, Ireland, Russia, and even Lithuania (Lithuanian heritage shout out!). Those international students are incredible. They all speak their native languages, English, typically something else like French, and on top of it all they're better at Spanish than I am. Hey rest of the world, way to be multilingual.

After class, most of us students usually find our way to a nearby cafe. It's a delicious way to relax after a long day of straining my brain in attempts to understand Spanish. I go to cafes about two times a day to get a cafe con leche or a cocacola. That's pretty standard around here. No one is in a rush and drinking an insanely small cup of coffee can last for two hours. I have yet to have a meal out on my own since my host mom makes me copious amounts of scrumptious food all the time. Somewhere around 2pm every day I bust out my sack lunch from home, just like old school days.

Ok, I decided to switch things up and just start spewing out random things that have happened to me/things that happen regularly:

-Last week we went to Gijon, a beautiful beach city with Roman Ruins just a half hour bus ride from here.

-Right now my host mom is practicing the accordion in the other room.

-Yesterday at a cafe two men with a microphone and a news camera came up to a group of us and interviewed us, in Spanish of course, and we may or may not end up looking like really dumb Americans on a Spanish TV program.

-They don't like dryers here. Laundry is all air dried. Hello underwear drying display in the middle of the room.

-There aren't many regulations or rules posted. It's pretty much a free for all when it comes to your safety.

-My host mom's dog, Samy, gets a little rough while playing and bit my butt the other day.

-My host mom can't pronounce "Kate". It comes out like "kah-tay" or sometimes even Kelly.

-Everyone here stares at each other (or maybe just me) on the streets, but no one exchanges smiles.

-I'm currently attempting to think of more to write because I don't want to read for my history class.

Once I get more settled in my classes I'll write a more detailed entry on them. If anyone wants more info on any of these tid-bits just holler at me. Oh! I almost forgot. The reason for the title of this entry- I am not so good when it comes to understanding my teachers and host mom who rapidly fire Spanish at me. I've become really good at playing off of their facial expressions, elaborate hand gestures (luckily for me they use a lot of them), and other body language. I usually nod, smile, and say si a lot. It's gotten me in trouble a few times, but for now I'm sticking to these interpreting methods. Wish me luck!

I'm in love...with FOOD.

This will be a short entry, but I've been enjoying the food/drinks so much here that I thought I'd dedicate a post to it.

I love food. I love food in general, but I especially love it here. That may have something to do with the fact that it's always served to me. My madre even spreads cheese on my bread for me- but I'll get to that cheese later.

Something that Spain is famous for is coffee. I had my first sip the other day and it was a little drop of heaven. I got it in the most peculiar way. It came out of a machine. It was like those machines in gas stations where you grab a cup and have options as to what to fill it up with, but different. With these machines you put your money in (55 euro cents), it drops down a very tiny cup, fills it with deliciousness (I prefer cafe con leche), drops in a little stir stick, and then you lift a small door and drink up. Did I mention that those are inside my university? Simply perfect.

Cafe con leche is the only drink I've tried, but I've been more adventurous with food. A delicious meal dish was rice with carrots, corn, something green, salted zucchini and a fried egg to the side. They eat eggs for lunch and dinner, not breakfast. For breakfast it's typical to have cereal/granola, yogurt, and fruit. Lunch is the main meal of the day and is eaten around 2 until 3 or so. One day for lunch we all had a starter of lentils, a main dish of a tortilla (but not a regular tortilla, it was a fatty potato tortilla topped with a sweet red pepper), and a sliced succulent melon for desert. Since lunch is so late, our host moms are asked to pack us a bocadillo (a small sandwich). Those are pretty standard, except today my madre put ham and cheese inside a roll that had chocolate chips in it. Everything here is laced with chocolate and most dishes have bread on the side, which is fantastic because those are quite possibly my two favorite consumables. Ok, moving on to the cheese. There is this cheese that my madre bought that looks like goat cheese or blue cheese. It was out on the table so I went to put in on my salad one night and my madre gave me an odd look and spread it on my bread for me. I normally don't like goat cheese so I was hesitant, but it was delicious! Cheese success.

So much for a short post. I guess consuming food is more of a passion of mine than I realized.