Another baguette tale

There is a direct correlation between me posting so much today and this weekend being the weekend before finals. Anywho, I was at the center's biblioteca today writing my media studies paper and somehow ended up walking to the supermarket? I guess my feet don't like it when my brain gets all the attention--and it needs a lot of attention for it to work properly. (Sorry, I think all the cheese I ate is transforming itself into its figurative cousin.)

But long story short, my nose caught the aroma of the oven-fresh baguettes (Spanish people eat bread with every meal so the markets replenish quite frequently). Then I wandered over to the cheese section, and this being a Dali sort of day (time melted), I decided to make my first purchase of Camembert cheese (the inspiration for his piece, "The Persistence of Memory").

I don't know why but I feel very grown-up when I purchase cheese. Besides wine or any other alcoholic beverage, I feel like you have to have some sort of knowledge of cheese in order to pick the right kind. Today I was just lucky--Camembert is delicious! A bit sharper than Brie but it still has that really silky, almost buttery taste. One thing I'll miss about Spain is how cheap the cheese is. I'm not sure my college student budget will allow for many expensive cheese purchases next semester, but I'm willing to sacrifice clothes-shopping for food-shopping (is this sad and/or masculine of me?) so we'll see. I also bought two dinky tomatoes and used one of them for my afternoon bocadillo. It was juicy and slightly sweet, proving to be the perfect fresh accompaniment to the Camembert--I didn't even need to drizzle any olive oil.

Well, I guess my study break's over.

Cutting the cheese [smirk]

Last Friday lunch in Spain

Flamenco 4/29

Change of pace

Things are slowing down.
It doesn't feel like things are slowing down because my mind is on the paper that is due on Tuesday, the exams to take, and the assignments to turn in. But as we were all gathered around a tableclothed table today with thick ceramic plates of delicious Chinese seafood and noodles in celebration of a dear friend's day of birth, I realized that I better take a step back and relish the moment because our laughter, our conversation, this combination of people gathered together will likely never happen again. This is not to sound gloomy, mind you, nor to sound dramatic. But I don't mind sounding sentimental because it allows me to appreciate these last days a little more.

Some of the moments of today:
Asking my host sister last minute questions about Spanish politics for my exam
The older plump gentlemen who recited poetry to us while we were sitting in a sandwich shop. He used lots of gestures and claimed to be a multi-millionaire. Later on he grabbed his cafe con leche and drank it outside.
A quaint evening festival that we came across while walking towards the bridge with red and white flowers. I saw the biggest loaf of bread ever and took pictures of fancy flamenco-dancing feet.
Hearing about a relationship where the guy and girl have never seen each other, but the girl is a graphic designer, so she made a picture of them together using snazzy photo editing.
Laughing while eating pistachio ice cream, peaches, kiwi, bananas, and whipped cream
Going back to my apartment to change into my prairie shoes because I had a blister on my foot
Finding my favorite Spanish drink: a boxed mango and pineapple juice mixed with milk and tasting just like a light smoothie
Wondering if I should go to the book fair tomorrow or just study all day
Finally being able to wear my cow boxer shorts because it's getting all summery
Finding myself looking forward to flossing at the end of the day
Drinking a half cup of water before getting into bed and writing this post.

Good night!

Second post about clothes

Outfit combinations still going strong! I asked my mom to bring me another one of my Gymboree-esque skirts, so I've added it to the rotation.

Besides that, today I learned how to make a Spanish tortilla and a yogurt cake.

And one more thing I forgot to mention: last Friday was Día de San Jose (also the anniversary of Shakespeare's life and death) which means the ladies gift books to the gentlemen who in return give roses to the ladies. Some people complain that it's a chauvinistic practice. But I think it's unnecessary to think that way because if we cared about all the possible ways women lose their power/rights/etc., then we can never focus on crux issues such as eradicating female circumcision and sex slavery (there are over 1,000 female sex slaves in Ohio alone--Google it.)

Whew. Anyways, didn't mean to get on that tangent. I just wanted to mention the sweetness of this holiday. I wish we could do this back in the States.

But since I already brought it up, something must be done. By us.

Above: April 26th

Below: February 8th

Talent show

Shortly after the talent show

On Friday I did something that I would never have done in the States: I sang a techno-y Spanish song at our center's Festival de Cabaret with my two friends Katelyn and Caitlin. We had been practicing for several weeks, and I'm glad we did it. I probably won't ever participate in a talent show again, so I hope the memory of this experience will last me a lifetime. The evening was quite fun. There was a clever work of theatre and a dance based on West Side Story among other things. So since my host family told me I could invite friends over during their absence, four of us headed to Mercadona to buy some packaged pizzas (They don't normally sell frozen pizzas in Spanish supermarkets; instead, the pizzas are fresh and have interesting ingredients such as goat cheese, shrimp, and salmon.) We also bought salad material, calamari tapas, and straciatella (Italian-style chocolate chip ice cream). Then we headed to my apartment, cooked up the food, and ate our dinner at the yellow table-clothed dining table. Afterwards we saw three television shows in English-- an episode each of Bones, House, and Gilmore Girls. I fell asleep though. (I like the feeling of falling asleep while people are watching television, no idea why. But my mom likes this too so maybe it's hereditary? Haha)

Today (Sunday), while I was taking my siesta, I heard a boom and realized that the electricity went out. So I had to make dinner and eat it in the dark while vowing that I would never live alone because while this weekend has been nicely peaceful, I started to feel lonely towards the end of it. Thank goodness for Claudia, who invited me over to her place for an excellent study date.

Special thanks to Rebecca for offering to take pics ( :

Home in Spain

My host family went to Barcelona for the weekend because the middle daughter is planning to attend the open house for prospective college students at the University of Barcelona. Aside from staying by myself in a college dorm room (in a suite full of suitemates, so it doesn't really count), this is the first time I'm sleeping by myself in an empty house.

It's really nice. I forgot how peaceful it feels to be alone. Homestay has been all sorts of wonderful, but it hasn't exactly been peaceful in that still-quiet kind of way.

This semester I'm living with a family of six in a medium-sized apartment. I've never lived with three sisters before, so I've been secretly pretending that I'm the fourth sister and that together we make up the Little Women ( this book always made me long for sisterhood). Besides almost always having to wait for my turn in the bathroom, living here has been a relatively smooth experience. At first, it was weird and here's why: living in someone's home as a stranger feels very odd. There wasn't any previously existing relationship between me and them to explain my sudden intrusion into their family equilibrium, my toothbrush in a holder with six others, my chair awkwardly placed at a table made for six. But I quickly learned things about them, and they learned things about me, and we found out that we shared so many similarities in our perspectives on life, which served as one of the key elements to my adjustment in Spain (ask me about it sometime).

Interestingly, they are not native Spaniards; instead, they emigrated from Ecuador almost twenty years ago. My padre, Frank, works at the Ford Company. At least once a week, Frank and I end up being the last ones at the dinner table while we discuss matters of religious spirituality and non-religious spiritually. These two things have been on my mind all semester, but these things have been on Frank's mind for decades, so I love to glean some of his wisdom. Two days ago, while we were eating some fruity yogurt for dessert, he told me that if he had stayed in Ecuador, he would have been a top bank executive by now (not in a boastful way, but rather dryly). Instead he says that his job at the factory is wearing him down so much physically, with the need to apply cream to his aching joints regularly. He told me this when the girls were in the kitchen washing dishes and his wife was putting little Danny to bed. But when he thinks about how much promise he sees in his kids' lives (academically, personally, and spiritually), these precious years of his that are being claimed by a merciless job aren't as precious as his family. If he needs to work a crappy job to be a supporter of his daughter's dream to study in London or his wife's desire to complete her bachelor's degree, then he's willing to be compensated with the knowledge that he does not take his love for his family lightly. Every time he wakes up at 4 AM to take the bus to work, he's loving his family something fierce.

And when he comes home from the long day at work, Frank twirls his young son around, kisses his wife, and merrily chats with his daughters about this and that.

Meet Christy

The dog my parents got the year I left for college TO REPLACE ME

I miss everyone right now. Except this canine, of course.

Study break

The plan was to get out of class at 6:50 PM and start studying by 7 PM. In Spain they would call me a "friki" [free-kee], which is basically the hybrid of a freak and a nerd. You'd rather just be a lovely little nerd? Well that isn't really plausible because Spaniards use this word one-size-fits-all style. But all this talk is irrelevant because I didn't follow the plan. Instead, I went to one of the main plazas with Claudia and Caitlin because they invited me to go postcard shopping with them. Speaking of postcards, well, I have failed to send them like I should have. But hopefully that will change!

Afterwards, we went to a popular eatery called Cien Montaditos where most items on the menu are only 1 euro each on Wednesdays. We still had to eat dinner with our families, so we ordered a couple simple things to snack on. I ordered a montadito (which is basically a teeny tiny sub) with brie, pulled pork, green peppers, and jamón serrano. Those things can really hold a lot! I was impressed with the little guy. We also shared some fries with four dipping sauces: ketchup, tzatziki sauce, some peppery bbq sauce, and an unidentifiable sauce that tasted a bit like the salsa in Chihuahua but without the spice.

These pictures were taken with my webcam because it was the only type of camera I had with me, friki-style.

Asparagus soup for dinner

Today's dinner reminded me of a French movie I saw on the bus ride to Madrid called Ensemble, c'est tout. The lead role is played by Audrey Tautou, the actress who was also Amélie. The main plot line was a bit too...plotless, for lack of a better word, but there were some elements that I loved. For example, Audrey's character Camille invites her clumsy but sweet neighbor for dinner. The curly-haired, scarf wearing, corduroy blazered man shows up with his grandmother's old picnic set--complete with dainty porcelain dishes and clinkling glasses. Anyways, he finds her place to be an attic room, and they have nowhere to eat besides on the ground beside her bed. But the scene is so cozy: two neighbors in a little attic eating on the floor with silverware. Makes me want to eat all my meals in the context of a fancy picnic.

Lounged in bed all day

On Saturday I sprained my ankle. I was walking downhill on this rocky path and didn't see a hole? rock? I'm not sure what it was, but between two blinks, I was on the ground, getting the most puzzled look from little Danny. So I can never ever say I don't understand what it means to vegetate from this weekend forward because that's just what I did. I just rolled around in bed, took naps even koalas would judge me for, and discovered Kevjumba videos on Youtube. I also stuffed my face with dried fruit and nut granola bars and spicy Mexican rolled corn chips that my mom brought me when she visited.

In short, I was a teenager boy today, and my right ankle is a good deal chubbier than usual.

First lunch of the weekend

Breaded eggplant, garbanzo bean salad (with onions, carrots, artichokes, and olive oil), and patatas.

My lunch buddy today.

Spring break with Mom

Thanks to my dad's handy-dandy frequent flier miles, I got to spend spring break with my mom in Spain. I just Skyped with her, and she tells me that interestingly, the boys actually survived their own cooking!

My mom and I travel quite well together.

Traveling is not the most relaxed activity, but even amidst the stressful moments (like when we had to ask random strangers to exchange our dollars for euros because all the banks were closed that day, and we kind of sort of needed to buy metro tickets to get to our hotel from a machine that wouldn't accept American credit cards), I think I remember us laughing about it afterwards. And whenever our itinerary changed, it was no big deal. I think our relaxed approach to this trip was what made it such a wonderful time.

We saw great things: paintings at the Prado that actually stunned an art-un-enthusiast like me, spectacular Roman ruins, the house of El Greco, dark green gardens that would even get the stamp of approval from fairies

We heard a beautiful symphony perform pieces by Brahms.

We ate all things: ice cream on late nights, pastries in bed on Sunday morning, Turkish fast food, Mediterranean tapas, pad thai, yummy sauteed local seafood at Chinese buffets (Ha, we are such piggies and thus enamored with the all-you-can-eat idea!)

But we also did little things: stopped multiple times at random places for tea and coffee breaks (my mom brought my thermos from home, along with little packets of Good Earth + sugar + cream, mmm best idea ever), started and finished one book each, went to the market and had picnic dinners by the fountain, and wandered till our maps became tattered and our feet turned into stiff little potatoes.

But in agreement with an old quote, I would have to say that the little things were actually big things, and they are my fondest memories.

There is no real conclusion yet

Every other Saturday, my host family brings croissants and coffee to some men from Africa who live by the river. These men left their families in order to provide for them through securing a job in Spain, but given the current economic crisis (almost 20% unemployed), they have no work. During one conversation I had with one of the guys, he told me that his family calls him every now and then to see how he's doing, and what is gonna tell them? That the reason he hasn't been calling them is because the two euros it costs for one minute of conversation has to instead be spent on bread? No, he said. He tells them that life is going wonderfully, that he just bought a car last week and his company just gave him a promotion--because these lies are the promises his family holds onto amidst poverty, what his father can brag about with his friends, what gives his younger siblings hope about their own futures, why his mother can sleep at night.

After one of these Saturdays, my host dad pointed to the men walking off in the distance and told me that they leave when it seems appropriate, not because they have somewhere to go; they just wander around the city, crossing the same street light as the rushed businessman and the tardy-hating school children. After a couple of turns, they cross it again--with another set of businessmen and children. I didn't think much of this, until I came across Bhalak at a crosswalk. He is still learning Spanish, but he managed to ask me where I was going. I told him that I was headed to class and then returned the question before I could think. He just shrugged; there was nowhere to go except the next step and the next and the next. Walking with nowhere to go is one thing, but walking this way with a bustle of people who have places to go and people to see--I cannot imagine the kind of raw loneliness he must feel. I realized there was nothing I could say to make him feel less uncomfortable, so we gave each other parting smiles to cover up what we could not make go away.

So on Saturday, instead of breakfast, we decided to host a great big paella party at a nearby camping ground. It was a marvelous, fresh air in your diaphragms kind of day, and we did everything together: cooked together, ate together, sang together. Some of my new African friends sang a song from their homeland upon my request, and upon theirs, I sang one of my favorites [and one with lyrics I actually remembered]--"Amazing Grace." Their song, they told me, is a sad ballad usually sung when soldiers march through different lands during a time of war. Spanish is a second language for both of us, and it has quite nicely allowed us to have some very thoughtful conversations. But there was something about them singing to me in their native tongue about a journey that is not too different from theirs as sojourners, while I sung in my heart language about the lost being found--that proved to be a moment of connection. While neither I nor they could understand each other's words, I realized that our songs were conversing with each other about faith and brokenness; the need to keep on walking, hope--things that I hope touch our actual conversations one day.

So anyways, we ate paella. They played the drums, some played an intense game of soccer, we talked, and it was a wonderful time. Since my camera battery was low, I wasn't planning on taking many pictures, but they insisted, and we managed to record some memories (which they made me promise to send via e-mail as they gave me little bits of paper with their addresses on them).

This is where I end. Where I tie up this post in a neat little string and pretend like this wonderful get-together made their troubles go away. But as some of the men taught us some fun African chants and dances, I noticed Bhalak sitting on a bench by himself. I sat next to him and asked him what he was thinking about. Papeles y trabajo. Spanish doesn't come easily to him, but I know that he meant getting legal papers and finding work. These goals, and the futility in achieving them, was all he could think about. In the midst of conviviality, Bhalak's sad, stressed expression reminded me that the difficulties in life don't magically disappear no matter now many times we try to blink them away. So that is why I cannot end this post in such a way because that would not be fair to Bhalak, who is probably wandering the streets right now. There is hope, I believe that. But it doesn't come from me or a job or a paella party or some legal papers. And I pray that one day they won't have to wander anymore.

Cooking on a little stove

I made dinner for myself because I am alone in the apartment this evening. I haven't cooked by myself in over three months! Even though I simply fried up some eggs and tomatoes (with a pinch of salt and a drizzle of soy sauce), this little cooking endeavor was quite enjoyable. But, a confession: I used a Youtube video to make this. A cute Chinese lady has a channel with videos that teach how to make little Chinese dishes, and tomato & eggs was the only one I had all the ingredients for. Yep, what I did was pretty much the equivalent of watching a video on how to make PB & J. I guess I was never meant to be a domestic goddess. Oh, poo.

I also saw a video on how to barbecue chicken with a can of beer. I really want to try this.

One interesting thing about Spain is the artificial light (light bulbs, street lights etc.); its tone is a lot warmer and yellow-orangey. I love cooking in this light because I feel like I'm in some warm little cottage with a cobblestone fireplace glowing and crackling.

Pique-nique in the Spanish countryside

My last post was rather sloppily written--sorry, Mother!

Anywhooziemagoozie. Most of us at school have internships this semester. I help teach English at a nearby Catholic school, and maybe someday I'll blog about that. Claudia's internship, however, is in a town called Godella, which was founded in 1238 by James I of Aragón. Her description of the place--Spanish countryside with palm trees, onions growing in small patches, and trees bearing the juiciest of oranges--left me craving for it during the past week. So today, we met up to buy some picnic-y foods at Mercadona, then took the metro to Godella (The metro system in Valencia is quite impressive). The entire experience had a very Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm-vibe to it. We had a leisurely lunch of bocadillos that our madres packed us (I plucked an onion and added its fleshy goodness to mine), strawberries with cream, other fruit, and mosto. There were many [friendly] bees, and we even saw a big snail that would probably be considered obese among its peers. After our lunch, we took a stroll and decided to take many pictures.

I've never taken so many pictures as I have during this semester. Usually it's quite fun, but sometimes it's nice to just leave the camera behind and see things as they really are. For a lens may pave the way to a clear visual replication of an event, thing, or scene, but I don't think it could ever compete with the eye. If what I see is especially beautiful, sometimes I deliberately don't take a picture to remember it because I know that a camera's (at least my camera paired with my current novice ability to maneuver it) attempt to record the beauty could not compare, and would only dim, the memory of what I saw.