Sunday, February 21, 2010

El Supermercado

They were playing J. Lo’s greatest hits CD in the grocery store today. I love this country. I also love going grocery shopping here because everything is so cheap and I feel like a true “resident” doing errands that real Spanish people to instead of just wearing Uggs, going into souvenir shops and getting tall chai lattes from Starbucks, which, unfortunately, I do more frequently. I bought green apples, butter for my chocolate chip cookies today, and a loaf of bread for the family. The supermarket also has a large meat department, in which giant pig legs are hanging from the ceiling, and a fish display with fish heads organized in an ornate design. The milk is all ultra-high-pasturized, which means it is not refrigerated, there are more kinds of marmalade than there are fruits, and there is cream cheese, although no one here has even seen or heard of a bagel (except in a few select Starbucks).

Anyway, my host mom gave me money for the bread, but I gave it back to her and said “it’s on me.” They acted like I had just taken the bill at Ruth's Chris Steak House (a loaf of sandwich bread costs $0.60). I was just like “Instead of me taking the money, let me make an extra sandwich sometime.” They laughed and said “thank you” but in all seriousness, the $0.60 was definitely worth the liberty of making myself a sandwich at the time of my choice.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Isa....not "Lisa" from the Simpsons

Spanish people do not understand the letter "z." It is only pronounced in a select few words, and generally resembles more or an "s" sound. My host father has a particularly hard time with this, and decided to refer to me as the Spanish translation of my name, Isabel. For short, I am Isa. This is humorous, especially because of the complete lack of resemblance I have to the over-sized-basketball-jersey-wearing 4th grader I tutored in Schenectady, also named Isa.

Julia, the three year old, does her best to pronounce my name, but it generally comes out sounding Asian. She screams "Leeeeeeeee" which I now recognize as my name. She also makes the connection with my name and "Lisa from the Simpsons" and every time they say the name "Lisa" during the program, the little girl screams "Los nombres son iguales" (the names are the same) and throws her head back in a fit of laughter for about 2 minutes. Since Lisa is a frequent character, us watching the Simpsons usually just turns into us watching Julia belly laugh for 30 minutes.

Anyway, my host father suffered a pretty harsh case of meningitis about 5 years ago. He was in the hospital and in a coma for a good amount of time, and has lost a little bit of his memory. According to him, he's 80% back to normal. You probably wouldn't notice anything different unless you know, but he does speak slower than most Spaniards, and often forgets the names of things. I'll ask him what the name is for the eggplant we are eating, and he usually responds with "I forget what that's called, but what is this thing?" and then I'll say "Son guisantes" (those are peas). It's fine, though. I tell him we'll learn the Spanish language together and then he usually laughs and calls me a smart one.

Anyway, Alejandro is quite the musician, and played guitar and sang in flamenco bars back in the day. He is always singing in the house, and gives guitar lessons to his nephew on the weekends. He has forgotten a lot of songs and has had to re-train the muscles in his hands since the meningitis. Whenever Suzie (the Irish exchange student in our house) walks into a room, he bursts out into a Spanish song called "Susana." Not knowing any equivalent to sing upon my entrance, he usually just starts repeating the word "Ameeeerica" in a harmonic tone.

Today I was getting ready to go out for the afternoon, when Alejandro bursts into the room (he has never been in our room before, so we were a little taken back) and starts singing extremely loudly and dancing in our room. It was a song about putting your sombrero on at the beach, and the chorus included a shout out to a woman named Maria Isabel." We got a refrain two or three times, and Rachel and I clapped and said "Bravo" but were also so taken back by this man screaming and dancing around our room. We had no idea what spawned this. He supported himself against the wall for a breather, and eventually told us that he had spontaneously recovered memory of the song just 5 minutes ago, and knew he had to show it to us since it was "my song", as it contained the word "Isabel." This made a little more sense now, but it was still so surprising. Now I have a song for him to sing to me!

He is honestly a great guy, and we've gotten to know him the most, as we eat all our our meals with him, and only occasionally with our house mom. He is so kind, and always says that "they are very lucky to have gotten such nice Americans, but WE really won the lottery living with them." It's true, but its funny to hear him say that. He also tells us he will cry when we leave and that he will miss us. We reply with a "you too" comment, which actually makes no sense, since they aren't going to be leaving any time soon (think Brian Regan's 'you too' segment). But its the only thing we can think of to say.

He's a great guy! And is teaching me to cook like a true Sevillano!

Hasta luego

Cadiz


Last weekend, we went to Cadiz for Carnaval. Carnaval is basically like a weekend of Halloween in a city 1.5 hours from Seville. Every one dresses up, and it's just a giant party. It was supposed to pour rain, but we decided to go anyway.

Rachel and I dressed in masks and matching shirts, and our amigas dressed as either ninjas or Hawaiin hula girls.

After an entertaining bus ride to Cadiz, we were dropped off at 9:30, to board the bus at 3. We heard it was best to stay until 7 or 8 in the morning and take a train, but we stuck with the 3AM bus ride. Carnaval is the 3rd biggest party in the world. Cadiz is almost an island, connected to the rest of the country by a small stretch of land. Regardless, we did not see the ocean. The streets were packed. Everyone was dressed in extremely elaborate costumes. There was no one (except us) who had a lackluster outfit. Many costumes were hand-sewn and were worn by large groups of people. They were all very creative. We saw a lot of cows and babies, gypsies, geishas and a group of 20 men dressed as sperm. Basically, the streets are so packed you can barely move, and everyone just drinks, in costume, on the street. There was a stage with a chorus singing songs that were religious parodies, but mainly, there were just potato chip stands, and crazy drunk people. Bars weren't even open, but instead, closed off their doors and sold food and drink counter-style from the door. It was crazy. It was fun, but after an hour, we were frozen and unamused by drunken ladybugs and crossdressers. We warmed up in Burger King, although we ironically ordered icecreams. We lingered for quite a while, having no desire to go back out into the streets. People were jammed into the building, with empty patches of floor occupied only by vomit. after an hour, we were kicked out of our table for staying too long. Getting kicked out of Burger King was an all-time low.

We re-entered the crowd, and huddled in a circle for warmth until the bus came an hour later to take us home. It wasn't the most pleasant bus ride home, as the girl across the aisle vomited in my direction just 10 minutes into the 90 minute trip. I experienced instant flash-backs to my freshman year dorm room.

All in all, a great experience....for an hour. I have never seen so may people in great costumes, but it was overwhelming to be amongst thousands of intoxicated people, especially when they were dressed as Spongebob square pants or transvestite nurses. The weather was a little tough, too, but that was to be expected.

Still, it was an experience, and I'm glad to say I've seen Cadiz at its prime!

Side note: Julia, the three year old daughter in my house, had dress up for Carnaval the following Monday at her school. She dressed up as a strawberry and was the cutest strawberry I have ever seen.

"Horrible Nesquik"

They say it never rains in Seville. It also never snows in Seville. And yet, for the past two weeks, we have barely seen our friend, the sun. The people here don't know what to do. They say they have never had a winter like this, that was this cold and rainy. My host father blames it on me, and whenever anyone makes a comment about the weather he says "the american girl brought it here with her!"

I haven't written in a while, but that's because the past two weeks have been very busy and also not a lot of interesting things have happened. It has been absolutely great, and I am DEFINITELY not ready to go home in 3 weeks, but not a whole lot has changed.

Rachel and I both caught the gastrointeritis plague, but were each out of school for just one day. Everyone has gotten it. Every member of my family here, except the dog. I won't go into details, because they aren't pretty, but after a few natural yogurts and soups, we were all fine.

Last Friday we went to Cordoba. We visited the mezquita mosque, which is unbelievably gorgeous. It has Christian and Muslim and Jewish roots, all from different time periods, rolled into a very pretty mosque. Other than that, there wasn't a whole lot to do in Cordoba. It was raining (as usual) and so we hung out in a tapas bar, where a few tried salmorejo (a puree of tomato and vinegar, served in a glass). It looks like a creamsicle smoothie, especially since you drink it like a smoothie, without any utensils. I passed on this specialty, not being too fond of tomatoes, but I heard it was good.

For Valentines day, I was lucky enough to have 12 roses delivered to my room, courtesy of my boyfriend Sam. I was a very happy girl. They are beautiful and are a great addition to our cozy little room. They don't celebrate El Dia de San Valentin here very much. The family was so taken back as to why I was getting such an elaborate and beautiful gift!

Also for Valentines day, the girls in my class picked names and got eachother a little something. It was really cute. I received some Lindt truffles and a spanish dessert recipe book from my friend Shelby, which was so thoughtful. It will be a great thing to try out back home. Hopefully my Spanish translations and metric conversions won't get in the way!

This weekend I had plans to go to Portugal. Two of my friends and I decided to rent a car (just 40 Euros!) and drive 3 hours to Lagos. It was supposed to pour buckets all weekend (surprise surprise but we didn't have much to lose). Yesterday morning we were all ready to go. We got to the airport (where the car rental place it), but couldn't find the rental place. After asking one of the other offices, we found out that the company wasn't located at the airport, and that we were supposed to wait under the green advertisement for life insurance if we were waiting for GoldCar. An hour later, the representative arrived, and we double checked the price, and the information and they took us in a van to the rental place. At the rental place, they sneakily added fees for gasoline, leaving the country, being under 21, eating a sandwich while in line at the office (not actually, but we wouldn't have been surprised), etc. So it would cost almost 4 times as much as we anticipated, we didn't have an actual plan of things to do in Lagos, and it was supposed to pour rain. In the end, we bagged the trip and pretended to be tourists in Seville for the day. There was still so much we wanted to do in Seville, that we had never taken the time to.

I was so flustered coming home from the airport, that my host dad got me strawberries and put them in a plastic bag so that I could "go for a walk, sit by the river, and relax while eating the finest, reddest and sweetest strawberries I will ever eat.") Magically, the sun was out, and it was one of the most beautiful days we have had. We ate lunch outside (carne con tomate, tuna and vegetable croquettes, french fries and a fried egg), we shopped and we got drinks by the river which we enjoyed with strawberries. For dinner, we ate the first pizza we'd had since 2009, and it was unbelievable. A great day.

When I got home, I had a chat with my host Dad, who casually described how great of a mother his wife was, and how she had helped her daughter with her exam this morning. He went on to describe how his 18 year old daughter had placed a tick-sized auditory device in her inner ear, and how her mother sat at the living room table, with 10 open books and notebooks in front of her, dictating the answers to the exam. He said "wasn't that so nice of my wife? What great teamwork. She will get a great grade and she can never get caught! Look how small it is!" The concept of cheating being morally unsound was never even touched upon. He was so proud that his family was living a "vida de lujo" (life of luxury) by achieving success using such advanced technology. I couldn't believe it. He was also so nice as to offer to lend me the device, for when I take my med school exams. I thanked him for this offer, but declined, explaining it was probably for the best that as a doctor, I know the answers to such exams. He gave me a confused look and shrugged his shoulders. I guess it's just a culture thing.

For dinner, I got to choose what we had (a first!). I chose tortilla espanola, so I could take notes on how to prepare this wonderful potato omlette. It is quite easy, with the only ingredients being egg and potatoes. It was scrumptious. It was served alongside slimy little silver fried fish with the heads still on, which I was unfortunately "way too full" to take any of.

Night life has been pretty standard, and generally entails conversations amongst my Union girlfriends and I. Usually we will make small talk with sevillanos for some of the time, which almost always includes a joke about how my name is "equal to that of the girl on the Simpsons." I then emphasize the "z" to distinguish "Liz" from "Lisa."

On one occassion, the conversation was about how this group of Spaniards did not like "chinos" (Chinese). The Spainiards are very open about raicism here. People are not at all ashamed to sound politically incorrect, and don't hesitate to say that they do not like a particular racial group. In this particular conversation, the fact that these boys were so open about disliking Chinese was surprising, but I did not become personally involved until they started noticing that my eyes are so small that they resemble those of the "chinos" especially when I smile. I thought I had grown out of this, when my Aunt Marion mentioned circa 2006 that she had thrown away our Christmas card, thinking she didn't know the family, since my eyes usually look "more Oriental" than they had in that photo.

Also, upon arriving at a discoteca last night, my roommate and I were instructed by the bouncer to stay about 15 feet back from the men in front of us in line, so we wouldn't be able to hear the conversation in front of us. The men in front of us were 2 Arabic men and one man with lighter skin. Although everyone else in line was able to enter, the Arabic men were turned away. Inside, there were no people of African descent. I couldn't believe that these attitudes were not only so prominent, but that they still compromise the rights of those with minority backgrounds. Even my host father, a great man, says that he respects anyone of any culture, except the Moros (Arabs) because they can't be trusted. The host families of my friends have made similar comments.

On a lighter note, I am making chocolate chip cookies for the family. They are not big on desserts, but they went nuts for the apple crisp and the brownies I made last week, and are now requesting that I make something at least once a week. I'm happy to do it! They really liked the brownies, especially since they had nothing else to do with the "horrible Nesquik" (aka unsweetened baking cocoa) their daughter had brought back from the Dominican Republic. "It tastes so bad mixed with milk" my mother told me. Last week was the first time that we had dessert with a meal. My host mother made an orange "bizcocho" (cake) which was delicious. I told her she would have to show me how to make it before I leave. I know how to make orange cake already, I just really want to have dessert again.

Hasta luego!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Rice with Pulpo Sauce

I haven't written for a while, but nothing too crazy has happened since the weekend before last.

The workload is picking up for my classes. Rachel and I gave our presentation, which lasted 1.5 hours (including questions and professor interjections) and I think it went pretty well. We also had our first two composition and our first exam so it has been a lot to do. Last weekend, we went to Granada and Almeria. It was a lot of time on the bus but it was well worth it. We all found ways to modify the fetal position in order to fit somewhat effectively into the bus seats to sleep.

Granada was great. It's south of Seville but it's actually colder than Seville because it's right in the Sierra Nevadas. It was very cold there and we were outside all day. We took advantage of the hotel showers, as they provided an unlimited supply of hot water, unlike our houses. We visited the Arab palaces at the Alambra. Out guide spoke 15 languages or something crazy like that, which makes me wonder why he isn't working for the U.N. or something like that. The palaces were very interesting. The town of Granada has a very Moroccan feel to it. There are millions of little hippie shops with pipes and scarves and tapestries. We went to a tapas bar ownned by an Englishman, which was recommended by Shelby's friend. In Granada, each drink you buy comes with a complimentary tapa. So I ordered tinto de verano (red wine with sparkling lemonade) and I tried the pineapple pork and coconut chicken dish. We jumped to the next tapas bar and I tried vegetable cous cous with cinnamon and raisins and caramelized onions. It was unreal. I also had a bite of noodles with sweet almonds, which was amazing. I met an artist from Granada and ended up having my first long and successful Spanish conversation. People in Spain are very friendly and it is much easier to strike up a conversation with a stranger here than it would be in America.

After tapear-ing (that's the verb for hopping tapas bars) we went back to the hotel to change our clothes and go out. Unfortunately, I was so exhausted that I crashed. I was so tired from all the travel that I couldn't bring myself to go out again.

In the morning we visited the cathedral and explored Granada. I purchased a variety of dried fruit and tried some hand-made potato chips, which were excellent. Dried strawberries and banana chips are my new favorite foods. After that it was another long bus ride to Almeria. In Almeria we visited an old Arabic castle, which was my favorite tourist site so far in Spain. It was very cool, and our guide was this short, pale, girl with red lipstick and a big black coat who looked like she went to Hogwarts. I really liked her. We had dinner with the group at the hotel and went out for the night. We tried to find some young clubs, but all we found was clubs filled with people 40+ years old grooving to Sheryl Crow and the song "happy Birthday" which was odd. We eventually found a little cafe place and spent a low-key night there. In the morning we attended the most boring presentation on immigration I could ever imagine. Luckily, I ended up seated directly next to the speaker, and I found out after that my attempts to maintain open eyes the entire presentation were not subtle. Apparently everyone noticed me casually resting my head in my chin and manually keeping my eyelid open with my middle and index fingers. This was not one of my best moments, but it was definitely not my fault. I got plenty of sleep the night before. This presentation was just very boring.

After a long busride home, we made it back to the house for dinner. The rice we were served was mysteriously pitch black. When I asked why the rice was black, the padre said it was because of the "pescado" which means "fish/seafood." The rice had a very interesting flavor - one I wasn't too keen on, but I expertly moved my food around with my fork and hit rice under my bread with impressive deftness. Again, at the table, I asked "so what exactly makes this rice BLACK. Is the fish itself black?" To this, Alejandro replied "no, no no. it's not a FISH. It's a creature that is very smart. When predators approach it, it emits a black substance, and that is why the rice is black."

My eyes bugged out a little and I placed my fork down on the plate slowly. "This wouldn't happen to be octopus, would it?" I asked. "Ahhh YES!" said Alejandro. "Exactly!"

Rachel and I looked at eachother and I whispered the english translation of "pulpo." She, too, proceeded to put down her fork and reach for her water. There's nothin like a little octopus rice in ink sauce.

And one other story....

We were sitting at dinner with Alejandro (the padre) the other night and he made a toast to himself being the most handsome man in the world. I then proceeded to say, "To Alejandro, you are definitely the most handsome man in the house" (he is the only man in the house). I tell you, I have never seen someone laugh so hard in my life. He started hyperventilating laughing and holding his head in his hands. He was shaking, he was laughing so hard. Rachel and I were cracking up because we couldn't believe how funny he thought it was. Even when the Irish girl entered the room, he tried to tell her what I said and just lost it again, bursting out into another fit of laughter. I guess he appreciates my sense of humor.

This weekend we are going to Italia, a town near Seville for a short day trip. Other than that I'm planning on hanging out on the roof in the sun (I already have some tan lines!) and doing some homework. It should be nice!

Hasta luego!