something icky that i have to get off my chest...

...is Mcdonalds. their commercials here are all about natural beef, fresh vine-ripened tomatoes, etc etc. which is weird enough in and of itself, and honestly the two just don't go together in my head (natural, mcdonald's, wait what?). but that's not even the strange part! they appear to have a burger of the week. last week was the canadian burger--bacon, cheese, mayo, some sort of potato salad looking type thing, i don't know, the commericals scare me (and yes, there is most definitely a mounty). this was bad, but today, i realized that it's a weekly special...why? you may ask? because this week's special is the MEXICAN burger...oh yah, fresh guacamole, hot sauce, grilled onions, the works on a Mcdonalds burger...pretty sure the one thing that could make me never eat mexican food again (not that i would step within 500 meters of the damn thing, but still....eesh)

best public transportation moment (corny but better than being puked on by a homeless man)...

so, jamie and i decided it was time to visit shar...after a second (less disastrous) attempt at curry (not gonna lie it was AWESOME...went to the spice market for garam masala, coriander, etc...unfortunately couldn't find fresh ginger--only available in the morning--but other than that excellent effort) we decided that we should check in with shar...especially since last time, jamie (after a few glasses of wine) decided to ask him all about being punjab, literally. which he gracefully took as a compliment and spent about half an hour telling us about pakistani's in spain (he speaks english as a second language...nice to finally know why his spanish is so awkward and shy). although he did refuse to share the secrets of curry vindaloo with us, claiming we would never return if we knew how to make it ourselves (clever). so we returned, triumphantly i might add as he hooked us up with appetizers and after dinner tea and anise liqueur, so cute. although this is not my main purpose here, merely a background story to the evening...

after stuffing myself with DELICIOUS curry vindaloo, raita and vegetable curry, i opted to the take the bus up the mountain. i have been really good about walking everywhere but tonight it just seemed like a bus kinda night. in the city center they have life-sized buses that run to the outskirts of town, but to go to the albaicin, sacramonte or the alhambra there exist only minibuses. and for whatever reason, these mini buses stop in plaza nueva and wait....until they are full (sometimes 2 minutes sometimes 20, i'm unclear but have decided it is at the driver's discretion)--full being anywhere between 10-25 people...you wouldn't think 25 people would fit on a minibus but i have seen it done and it is not pretty.

whilst I am waiting, the usual motley crew of tourists, gypsies, old people, and just-off-work folk pile onboard. for whatever reason, the chatter on this particular bus #31 was quite lively this evening, with the usual spanish small talk.
**i've come to find the spanish to be a very stoic group of people--i guess after 40 years of economic insecurity and Franco they kind of have to be. they won't reassure you in any way, but are quick to tell you exactly what you are doing wrong. at first this comes off as very offensive but i've realized that this "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" attidude is actually incredibly practical. suffice it to say, the economic crisis came up and the usual complaints were mounted. this in and of itself is fascinating because in the states we complain constantly about the crisis (always with the underlying fear that we actually might be totally screwed) but here they adopt a rye sense of humor and biting sarcasm that totally deflects any serious sentiments...i mean, they endured 40 odd years of a fascist dictator, pretty sure they will survive a dip in the market...

this itself was incredibly amusing, especially when followed by a complaint from a middle aged passenger: "are we sitting here to save energy because of the crisis or are you just lazy?" directed at the bus driver. at this point the bus was full and ready to go, and i'm pretty sure he was just being lazy and enjoying his cigarette break. but i mean, if i were to make such a comment to a muni driver in sf i would most likely get kicked off the bus if not ticketed and reprimanded by the muni police. and what, you may ask, happened to this poor misguided woman? well she was the hero of the busride, and sparked an entirely new critical discussion of energy waste in spain...after the entire bus laughed, including the bus driver (who promptly finished his cig and started driving)...

but the cherry on top of this experience was when a teenaged boy's cell phone rang with amy winehouse's "rehab" and before he could answer it, a construction worker (in full blue jumpsuit and dusty boots), a business man (in a suit), myself, and a late 30ish gypsy woman all bust out, "i won't gooo goo goo" in unison...then of course burst out laughing because really, does that ever actually happen on public transportation? aaaah, espana, you mad country....i don't understand you and yet i still love you in your own special way...

oh those spanish...

allegedly they are the hardest working european country (this statistic is purely in terms of hours per day worked, not actual productivity...a qualification which i find ridiculous but absolutely essential to understanding the spanish people). find that hard to believe? me too, and i've been wondering why i've been feeling so lackadaisical and lazy. not that i'm complaining about my jobless liberty abroad, it's just that i am starting to feel a little useless. and i've realized why...as americans it is ingrained into our way of being that we have to GO GO GO in order to reward ourselves with any sort of down time. the spanish way of life is the complete opposite...they dont GO GO GO anywhere, in fact the key to the spaniards i think is that they "savor" every minute. they say they'll meet you in a half an hour and you're lucky if they show up at all. they take their sweet time doing everything, from eating and drinking, to sleeping and partying (you can't even go out to a decent club until 2:30am and that's early by granadinian standards). as glorious a way of living as this sounds, it's actually incredibly irritating to be a productive person in an unproductive society, as i am constantly finding myself with big chunks of downtime.

for example, i want to get all of my errands done for the day as soon as i finish school so i can reward myself with a relaxing evening. once again the spaniards thwart me, as they close everything until five, so i literally HAVE to take two hours to myself to relax and do nothing (what's there to do? nothing is open and this is "family time"). let's say at five, i am now hungry, well all restaurants close after lunch (around 5) and do not reopen until 8 or nine. bars too. because they assume that instead of madly studying away i have been having a luxurious luncheon savoring all sorts of delicious cuisine and do not need nutrition any time between 4 and 9 (because, who eats then?)

or let's say it's friday afternoon (afternoon here is from 3-8 by the way). after a brief siesta we go out for some tapas, and if we are out long enough, maybe grab a meal. then there are four hours (more or less) of time between dinner and going out. it's too long a quantity of time to stay out, especially because those spanish dont emerge from their homes until 11 at the earliest, so it's either hanging out with drunk american students in tourist bars or heading home for a nap...we usually go for option two. have you any idea how difficult it is to motivate yourself to get back out there after a few tapas, a few vinos, a glorious 2 hour movie and a nice snooze?

i use these examples merely to demonstrate my americanness clashing with the spanish culture. they feel productive when they work for four, five hours (with a three hour break in the middle) but i feel like a total slacker after 5 hours of school and only an hour of studying. for a spaniard, this is above and beyond what is necessary to be productive and thus were i spanish i would probably spend the rest of the evening sitting in a cafe, bar, or various restaurants passing the time watching the leaves change colors and the beer warm on my table. they only have so many hours of productivity per day, and i'm just used to a lot more.

it's been really hard to slow myself down, and to teach myself that it's ok to do nothing and enjoy it sometimes. especially after 24 years of having to GO GO GO, i'm really trying to savor the flavors of life. i like to think of myself as a relatively relaxed person (i say RELATIVELY) but here i'm like a total neurotic freak that has to do stuff all the time. oh well, i'm finding myself, slowly but surley...because apparently spending a whole week working on your tan is a commendable passing of the time...go me.

(karin i await your "at least you dont have to work" email, i know i know i sound like a whiny vacationer, but like the blog description says, this is about cultural learning and they just do things different from me. any complaints in this blogpost are merely for the purpose of demonstrating cultural differences and are in no way meant to imply that i am not taking full advantage of my unemployed status in a foreign country.)

my italian momma...

cooks for my friends while they sit around and smoke hash and drink wine....wait what?
yes it's true. yesterday went to jamie's apartment and met eddie, the mother of her italian rasta roommate (mau), a real live mama di firenze. as we were heading to the mercadona to do some shopping, eddie came with us to get some necessities for dinner. as she does not speak a word of english, and only understands fundamental spanish, there was a lot of hand gestering, repeating of words in loud voices (which helps in the translation, you know). finally we all figured out how to get what we want. on our way home she kept trying to take my bags, even though each of us had two. imagine this tiny, 5 foot italian mama grabbing my grocery bags and insisting that she is a strong dona! and by insisting i mean attacking me and pulling the bags out of my hands while speaking forcefully in italian. all the while jamie is up ahead singing britney's "womanizer" with no idea that i'm being accosted by a tiny but surprisingly strong italiana. it was quite the struggle, but she finally caved and let me keep the two i was holding (even though she seemed pretty weighed down with her two bags), and then she invited us to stay for dinner as she was making mau's fav: pasta e fagioli! yum. (also my fav italian food: although her version was incredibly simple and vegetarian-->jeanne i still like yours best!)
somehow it got across that i liked to cook and was a pastry chef, so eddie took it upon herself to teach me, step by step, her culinary mastery. of course then mau's friends from firenze came over and it was a big italian festivus, with jamie and i (the white girls) in the middle. apparently they have italian satellite tv, and let me tell you, italian is impossible to understand, even with 6 weeks of living in spain under my belt. there was even a spontaneous haircut (the outcome of which was not overly impressive, although jamie found the fellow much more attractive after the incident--mullet-euro-mohawks don't really do it for me, thanks). and all the while everybody is drinking wine and the rastas are smoking their hash, mama mau is chainsmoking away in the kitchen, ash tumbling from her cigs onto every surface and into every receptacle except the ashtray. it was surreal...i cannot imagine a situation where i would invite five of my friends over for dinner and proceed to smoke myself silly and imbibe large quantities of alcohol whilst my mother slaves away in the kitchen. i must say though, she makes a mean pot of pasta e fagioli. and for dessert, fraises y nata (Strawberries and whipped cream)....mmm. unfortunately mau doesn't like rosemary in his pasta, so, since i was so inspired by my spontaneous cooking lesson, i went to school today (school?! on a saturday?! and picked some fresh rosemary so tonight i am going to make my own spicy marinara a la italiana...minus the cigarette ash, of course.

gracias a jesus...

i had a bad day today. for no real reason--sun is shining, birds are chirping--i don't know what it was, maybe hormones or something, but today i just wasn't feeling it.
one of my professors, jesus, a suprprisingly attractive spanish fellow (although between the natural scent of the man and the overwhelming odor of cigarette smoke any attraction i had to him was completely asphyxiated weeks ago...hah, get it), asked me what was wrong today and i almost burst into tears. he came up after class and was like, are you sure you're ok, you don't seem like yourself today. not sure if it's because i've been on my own in spain for 6 weeks, or i'm homesick (it could also be the incessant craving for burritos and/or round table pizza) but it just felt like such a relief to have somebody ask about how i was feeling and care about my response (alright i just reread that and it must be hormones, because i sound like such a girl). he also has three girl roommates which may explain his sensitivity to issues of the feminine persuasion.
luckily for me the dutch girl in my culture class (that jesus also teaches) ditched class today so i had a whole hour of jesus to myself. obviously we discussed interesting cultural phenomenons (spanish imperialism in the new world vs. anglosaxon colonialism, etc) but generally spent some time just chatting and talking about our lives. it sounds stupid now, but that the time it really made my day. he mixes music in his spare time and played me a bunch of hispanic american music, among other things. nice to know somebody (even if he is a spoken-for, chainsmoking spaniard) is lookin out for me....

spanish flakes...

our friend chandra that lives in the cave was supposed to meet us on saturday for our mexican valentines day dinner (which, by the way, was disappointing, but what did we really expect being from texas and california and eating mexican food in spain?...the margheritas, however, were glorious). we waited for her in plaza nueva for 20 minutes before deciding that we were freezing our bums off and to just go ahead with our evening. well, jamie texted her and an hour later she wrote back, "i'm not coming," which lead to the great debate of how to say flaky in spanish. jamie's italian roommate who has lived in spain for ten years said the word doesnt exist. so did our teacher jesus. and why does said word not exist?, you might ask...because that's the spanish way. actually it reminds me a lot of south africa, when they say they're gonna do something in a minute and it could be like five hours. those crazy spaniards say they are going to do stuff all the time and don't do it. they have a word, "informal" which means informal (obviously) and also unreliable, but not specifically flaky. literally, the word does not exist in this language because it's how the people are. i know it sounds kind of stupid, but i cant get over it. if someone made me wait 20 minutes in union square and didn't show i'd be pissed. but here it's just how they do...

un pequeno disastre..

so jamie and i have our favorite indian restaurant. one of two in granada (and the two that exist here are owned by the same person--muglia I y muglia II--a rather hunky half indian half spanish looking fellow...slightly short for my taste but last time we saw him he was wearing a very attractive purple sweater). we have our usual--curry windaloo (not sure why they spell it with a w here but whatever), la mezcla verduras con curry and of course, garlic naan and dos copas de vino tinto. and we have our usual waiter, shar, who we have become very close friends with (seriously we have gone like twice a week for at least three weeks).
unfortunately, like at home, indian food is un poco carro so we decided to have a go at making our own curry complete with garlic naan. (we have had to limit ourselves to seeing shar once every two weeks or on special occasions) we met at the mercadona near jamie's house to do our shopping and bought all the necessities--flour, yeast, etc. so after finding the perfect recipe for naan we began to prepare our bread. oddly enough, when we poured the yeast in the warm water to bloom, it was white and it began to fizz. both of us were slightly confused and decided that it must be weird spanish yeast. Well, the word for yeast is levadura. PERO, the word for baking powder is levadura en polvo. turns out, we had bought baking powder. scratch that idea. we then walked twenty minutes back into town (down the 67 steps from my apartment) to the coviran in the albaicin...no yeast. they told us to check the panderia across the street. no yeast. luckily i have some professional training in bread baking (ah that culinary school certificate coming in handy, once again) so we decided to make unleavened naan...not good, but at least we had the curry and some rice.
because we are such indian food freaks we thought, hey, lets make some raita too...unfortunately neither of us thought to look at the yogur natural (because obviously its plain yogurt right?) which turned out to be sugared natural yogurt. suffice it so say it was a bit of a disaster, but we ate it anyway....last night for dinner and again today for lunch. not gonna lie, i miss shar....

Dear Lawrel, I love you and I'm sorry....

i have to admit, I LOVE OLIVES. Lawrel, i know you'll be pissed, and i stuck it out not liking olives with you for a good long while...but, as they say, when in rome..or spain...the olives are amazing, i didnt like them at first, but they come with every tapas so i had to try them and, over time, i have grown to love them. now i cannot drink a vino tinto without the olives. i was always a fan of martinis (extra dirty) so it wasnt really that big of a step. it took some time, but i'm finally there. so i have to say, for the record, i'm sorry lawrel that you are now the only aufmuth that loathes olives. mmm, salty, garlicky, i'll have them any way.

in other news, excuse my silence in the blog world, have been experiencing some internet difficulties. taught me a good cultural lesson tho--instant gratification is purely an american need. the spanish are so much more laid back. i mean, they get stuff done, but only when it suits them. i'm practicing my zen-ness.

it has been SUNNY. gorgeous and everyday we walk to a new plaza and have new tapas whilst listening to new fabulous flamenco music...as it turns out, pretty much any song can be turned into flamenco: yesterday i heard frank sinatra, billie holiday, and my personal fav (Altho i dont know who sings it): sunny, thank you for the sun (help me out here)--actually pretty beautiful with a little acoustic guitar and flamenco rythym.
i feel like i have to get a week of bloggin in because you never know when the internet will go down for another week or so. we had some crazy tapas the other day...fried sardines (BIG sardines...well, i'll call them sardines but i dont actually know what they were, some scary fish) with a face fried open in terror (or grimace), kind of like a dragon with sharp teeth pointing out. jamie wouldnt try it but i did (not overly impressed couldve used some lemon or delicious dipping sauce, but always fascinating to dive into new things, even if they were a bit oily). took pictures of the fish among other things (Gorgeous mountains in the distance-sierra nevada- that i didn't know were there because of the rain)...am trying to upload on facebook, but like i said, depends on the internet conditions.
tonight (HAPPY V-DAY) jamie and i are having a romantic dinner for two at a mexican restaurant we stumbled across one day during our wanderings...even though our boyfriends are far and away, we have decided to commemorate this halmark holiday with an old fashioned fiesta (mexican style...complete with tequila shots and whatever else ensues)....
speaking of mexicans..not gonna lie we watched "y tu mama tambien" last night at our friend chandra's house (more on this in a second) and i really missed the mexican language. chandra asked us if we were having trouble understanding the mexican accent and i almost cried because it sounded like home.
our friend chandra is a gypsy and lives in a cave...like a real cave. her house is on the side of a mountain and you walk in to rooms that are dug out of said mountain. they are all painted white (in spanish they call it cal but i'm pretty sure its like lye or something because they said its good for killing bugs), and there are a bunch of connecting rooms and the floors are covered in carpets and the walls covered with hippie tapestries. very granada and very cool. the whole gypsy culture in granada is fascinating so it's awesome to know somebody to fill us in on such things. my one problem with the cave is that i think i would need a little bit more sunlight although apparently in the summer (when the temps reach 40 degrees celsius) it is the coolest place in the city, sin air conditioning.

phew, i think that's all the news i have. hopefully (fingers crossed) this internet service will continue and i can blog with slightly more consistency. happy valentine's day and happy weekend!

something i understand but cannot stand....

ok this has been buggin me for a while now, and i know it's just a cultural difference and nobody means anything by it, but i am sick and tired of being told i don't look spanish. because clearly i don't look spanish...i'm tall, i'm white, i have short hair, i wear colors (all these hip little twenty-something spanish chicks show up in their incredibly short denim skirts with a black or grey sweater, black or grey leggings, and black or grey boots...that and i dont have looong dark hair with straight across bangs). i can accept this, because i'm not trying to be spanish. but, and here's where the cultural difference becomes obvious, i would never approach somebody in a bar or on the street and say, straight forwardly, you are not american are you? firstly, after having lived in san francisco (probably one of the most diverse cities in the world), it's just not something you say to people, firstly because most people are not from sf, let alone the us and secondly because everybody looks different (america is a melting pot, we are all descendants of immigrants, etc etc). according to my culture teacher, jesus, the percentage of foreigners in the spanish population in 1980 totalled 0.4%, and obviously these spanish are notoriously monocultural (all the guidebooks say that which i find amusing). so there it is, they dont mean to offend me, they just notice i'm different because i am. and due to their inherent practicality and directness they feel the need to tell me...repeatedly...everyday. which is all good and well but when i'm trying really hard to speak beautiful, unaccented spanish i think i could at least get some props for my efforts. jesus told me to respond to them by saying, "si, y tu no eres chino"...but like i was saying, would i ever just roll up to somebody on the streets of sf and bust out, "yeah and you're not chinese!" in the states that's what we call politically incorrect, even verging on racist.
this minor irration may or may not have been amplified by the fact that jamie and i spent the entire weekend snuggled in my bed watching american movies and eating pesto. yes we watched four in one day...and half of a season of friends. i almost forgot i was in spain. until we went to get a tapas and asked the cute (and incredibly brittish looking) camarero "de donde eres?". obviously he said england and then continued with, "you two most certainly are not spanish" despite the fact that this entire exchange was in spanish...
i may be able to get used to eating lunch at 3 oclock, having all the stores close until 5, having my dinner at 10 and partying until dawn, but let's face it, i'm an american and i do how americans do and we just dont go calling people out on their obvious differences, its rude. and even though i know they mean no harm, i cant help but cringe every time i hear it. what's worse is feeling annoyed by it just further highlights that fact that i am clearly not spanish. i'm trying to be zen, a woman about the world...
so yeah, i don't look spanish...what else is new?

Estoy harta de....

Alright, so there’s no denying that the incessant rain is getting me down. I’ve been trying to rise above, and I honestly don’t mind getting wet, it’s just that this city really isn’t equipped for this kind of weather (which is probably why none of the natives are outside these days, and why they are all so grumpy when they are) and as a consequence my feet are always soggy (walking up a mountain with a river flowing down it is not conducive to staying dry)—I have decided to invest in rainboots tomorrow…of course, as soon as I do the rain will stop, but right now I’d pay good money for that so I might as well get a pair of rainboots out of the deal.
Anyway, there are definitely advantages to this harsh a winter: we get to learn all sorts of new useful phrases such as “Estoy harta de la lluvia” (I’m fed up the with the rain) plus more forceful and colloquial (that’s polite speak for learning how to swear in the Spanish) sentences such as “Estoy hasta el cono de la lluvia” (I’ll leave that one to the imagination).
But I think my favorite benefit of the poor weather is I find myself with much more time indoors and thus more time to myself. And what do I do when I’m alone with myself? I like to cook (and dance to shakira, which is neither here nor there). I should write a “rain-in-spain” cookbook with recipes of everything I’ve been whipping up this past week (although, ironically none of it has been Spanish cuisine). Strangely enough I have really delved deeply into my “Mexican roots” (I use quotation marks because I think I might be the least Hispanic person ever with all that german blood, but I’d like to believe that my love of Hispanic culture and cuisine supersedes mere genetic lineage). What I mean to say is that pretty much everything I have been preparing has been based in the Hispanic cooking tradition (with a little spontaneous Indian curry thrown in here and there, obviously). Tonight I made chicken mole tacos with garbanzo beans (couldn’t find hominy and the Spanish loooove their chickpeas—as do I) and let me tell you, I feel restored. It was like a little taste of home in a crazy backwards world where Spain gets rain and California doesn’t (I’m really trying to send some your way, I swear). Estoy harta de la lluvia…pero no puedo enfadarme cuando estoy llena del mole delicioso!

tornado? really?

alright, i just watched an bit on the news about a tornado in Malaga (south of here) that injured 25 people and dstroyed a bunch of houses. then they got this expert on telling us how spain is tornado-prone. talk about your crazy weather. we arent forecasted to see the sun again until sunday (and it's supposed to be only partly cloudy). the good news, all this inclimate weather is incredibly conducive to studying spanish verbs....am looking forward to the day (soon?) when i will be sick of sun and fondly recall these dark, cold, foggy days...until then, my flashcard pile steadily grows...

it's the little things....

this whole immersion program business has got me thinking: its amazing how much a person can learn in such a short period of time. it's the little things i notice--things that, when i first arrived i found frustratingly difficult to understand and aggravatingly hard to ignore--the small acts of settling into a new situation. for example: when watching "mr and mrs smith" while eating my curry (it was good, not great, i give it 3.5/5, although chock full of veg and very nutritious--missing my african spice collection that waits for me patiently in a box at the uhaul storage place) the 6 minute commercial breaks...a week ago they would've annoyed the hell out of me, i mean, come on, why must you have to wait 6 minutes to see your show. however, now i've become accustomed to them and use these 6 minutes to my advantage and go and do something else. i feel as though i should follow up on my week of frustration by adding that i am finally settling in. and i'm pretty sure i grasp (for the most part) the various schedules of things (farmacies, groceries, etc etc) i dont know if it was the zumba or the rum and cokes but last night i felt like i left all my inhibitions behind and really attempted to speak spanish without regard to my self-consciousness of making mistakes.
whats really crazy is that one day of sun made all of this bad weather worth it. the difference is the people...when it rains they stay indoors, but when the sun is shining they fill the streets with music, dance, and life. tonight was a terrible storm--the first lightning i've seen, very strange the kind that lights up the entire sky and you cannot see the bolt itself. followed by deafening claps of thunder. the storms blow throug here fast. i like to think that san francisco has a relatively variable climate, but serious, within any given day here you can see:sun, fog, hail, snow,rain, thunder, lightning, or humidity. and when its beautiful weather, the entire city lights up with exuberant energy. i am head over heels for the spaniard's passion for everything-food, drink, life. its an easy lifestyle to fall in love with. when the sun is out i have to pinch myself but it's finally sunk in that i'm living here until april and its such an amazing feeling to learn a vast amount of new information everyday....in all, it was a very satisfying and awesome weekend and i am fully rested and prepared to start another week of stuffing my brain new crazy spanish grammar....oh yeah.

la noche...

We started the evening off with a little cultural enrichment—our friend Xandra’s mother, Pilar, invited us to attend a play at the Teatro Alhambra in Realejo the star of which was a long time family friend from Madrid. A two person production entitled, “Arizona” it was all in Spanish obviously but surprisingly easy to understand. We of course knew nothing of the premise, as Pilar had only told us that it had very important themes and provocative messages—provacative indeed. I really do not have the words to describe it, it was simply written, set in the desert in Arizona where an American husband and wife set up camp to defend the US/Mexico border
“JUAN CARLOS RUBIO EXPLORA EL DOGMATISMO Y LA IRRACIONALIDAD DE LA INTOLERANCIA Y EL RACISMO A TRAVÉS DE DOS PERSONAJES QUE VAN ARQUETÍPICOS DE “CACERÍA” EN ARIZONA”
Basically the play explores the nature racism, xenophobia, and intolerance highlighting the irrationality of such fears. Suffice it say, without going into too much detail, there is a rape scene (nothing graphic but not expected) followed by the murder-suicide of the protagonists….obviously we had to go out for tapas after….
Pilar and Xandra were embarrassed that the play had been so openly critical of Americans and continuously reminded us that the themes could be applied universally. I was not offended at all, in fact I thought it was great theater and was very amused when the two characters spontaneously broke into song about defending the border from foreigners who want to rape and pillage our country. This was further reinforced when the lead in the play met us for a drink and apologized again and tried to explain the universality of the play. I wasn’t bothered at all and was more impressed that we were hanging out with the lead actor than anything else.
After some delicious tapas of all house cured meats, salchichons, pates, cheese and of course glorious olives (my love of olives is now solidified—I have converted and its impossible for me to tomo el vino tinto sin olivas) we went to a bar to dance. Ying, I just want to shout out a personal thank you to you, because I busted out my zumba moves like you wouldn’t believe. And we had a blast. Am still struggling with the smoking indoors and ashing on the floor (apparently you can also smoke pot in bars because EVERYone was doin it), but other than that the evening was a smashing success. The venue was a spot for “typical” Granada music which it seems to me is a blend of salsa, flamenco and any other sort of latin American rhythms (thus the zumba). Tried to explain what zumba is but obviously it doesn’t really exist here, probably because for them dancing the zumba is just another Saturday night. Didn’t make it home until late but it was worth it! Am looking forward to perfecting my moves and learning more, I love to shake it, and damn can those Spanish girls dance!

La mejor dia de la samana? SABADO!

First of all, I love how every Saturday morning, no matter if its sun or snow, everybody goes to market. Because this is the last day until Monday to purchase fresh meat, fish, and produce, all the shops are open. My favorite Saturday morning activity is to go down to Plaza Larga and have a café cortado y un tostada con montequilla y mermalada. After greeting all the homies in the cafeteria, we proceed to check out the wears at the farmers market, then on to the pescaderia, panaderia, carniceria and of course, the always-dependable coviran. This particular Saturday I purchased some very nice avocados to compliment my huevos rancheros. Of course, the other important part of this stroll is that everybody in town is out doing errands so you run into everyone you know in the streets, like your Spanish teacher, Rosa. This goes on until about two when everybody returns home for lunch, not to be seen again until the evening. Delicious huevos ranchers, by the way, instead of just putting them on top of tortillas I made a quesadilla for under my huevos complete with my enchilada/ranchero sauce from last weekend…yum. I also stocked up on fresh veggies for my cooking project of the weekend: chicken vegetable curry! Gerald, the german gave me a gift of curry as a goodbye, and thus I am using it to create more culinary wonders…I await the results...