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!