What you’ve all been waiting for…

I recently realized that I titled this blog with the intent to recount my culinary experiences more frequently than I have been.  Nevertheless, I have been having amazing food here in Spain, mostly because I live with possibly the best cook in the country: my host sister Elena.

I’ve already explained the meal structure here in Spain, but just for a quick recap I will remind you that lunch is the largest meal of the day.  It contains multiple courses and is eaten before siesta (because after eating that much food in the middle of the day, it’s impossible not to pass out for an hour or two).  In my family, lunch generally begins with a larger, heavier course followed by a lighter one.  Bread is eaten with most meals, sometimes accompanied by cheese and/or slices of ham or sausage.  Dessert follows, which is usually fruit or yogurt.

Last week, Keely and I came home after school to find Elena hard at work.  The end product was this:

huevos a la flamenca

Huevos a la Flamenca is a traditional Andalucian (specifically Sevillan) dish that includes fried eggs, vegetables, and often a light tomato sauce.  It is usually served with patatas fritas, or fried potatoes.  Homemade huevos a la flamenco was nearly a religious experience.  In addition to this, I was able to snap some photos of my family, despite their protestations.

from left: Keely, mama (Charo), Elena, and Maria

happy family

Another gastronomic delight I experienced recently was the aforementioned restaurant in Cádiz, a gem that we learned about in our Lonely Planet: Andalucía book.  It was so fantastic that I returned last weekend, this time with Keely and Bryson.  We ordered tempura cheese niblets drizzled in honey, lightly breaded and fried baby squid (or potentially eel, it’s a little unclear…) goat cheese toasts with blueberry sauce, and patatas bravas, which is a Spanish fried potato dish with tomato aioli.  If this isn’t enough to make you pack your bags and grab the next overpriced international flight, you should know that this meal cost us 8€ per person.  Get yourself to Cádiz, and spend enough time to try everything on this menu.

tempura cheese and patatas bravas

devouring some seafood

goat cheese and blueberry sauce

Soon I will recount Bryson’s visit to Sevilla and my accomplishments this week (talking politics with my intercambio and having my first professional Spanish phone conversation) but currently it is 100 degrees here in my beautiful city, and I just ate one of Elena’s fantastic meals.  Consequently, I will be taking my siesta at this time, with great delight.  Hasta luego!

A Beach Juxtaposition

During my time in Sevilla I have often been told that it is the “hottest city in Europe.”  People say this proudly and with great satisfaction, as if it is a desirable credential.  As a temporary inhabitant of this great city, I ask myself daily “why did I leave the Pacific Northwest?”  However, an anticipated part of living in the so-called hottest city in Europe is constant beach-going.

I love the beach.  I was raised on the Puget Sound with the incredible blessing of getting to wake to the smell of the bay every morning.  That being said, the beach where I come from is an entirely different phenomena than the beaches in Spain.  On the beaches of Washington and Oregon, people spend their days flying kites, throwing sticks for their Labradors and kayaking.  Here, beaches are a place to siesta, tan (or sunburn, as the case may be), and drink cervezas while playing an occasional round of a game that looks a lot like badminton (no volleyball on these beaches, folks).  Spaniards do not own Labradors.

Despite these stark differences, I have come to love the Spanish seaside, although I have also learned that not all beaches are created equal.

Two weeks ago, my girlfriends and I went to a beach called Matalascañas.  When Keely and I informed our host mom of our plans she said (in Spanish), “Oh. Well that will be nice… it is the beach of Sevilla.”  Little did we know that this meant every single Sevillan spends the summer weekends at Matalascañas.  Still, the bus ride was only 14 € and I wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean, so off we went.  Matalascañas was crowded, filthy and teeming with salespeople who ran up and down the beach yelling, “Coca-Cola! Cerveza! Patatas fritas!” while pushing a handcart filled with their wares.  I was unfazed by these blemishes on my coastal excursion until I found myself swimming with countless cigarette butts.  Not okay.

Matalascañas, the beach of Sevilla

 Keely, Kelsey, and I- as posed by a Spanish passerby

In addition to this, we ended up eating at a cafeteria for lunchtime tapas, which was fairly disgusting.  I ordered calamari and fried fish, which included heads and tails.  Keely and Kerry ate a pasta dish that seemed to be the least offensive of the lot, but that I did not sample because it contained beef.  Fast-forward eight hours to the worst food-poisoning I have ever witnessed, and you can see why I am not the biggest fan of Matalascañas.  However, Keely and Kerry survived (barely) so I will do my best not to hold a grudge.

escaping the heat with some cervezas and tinto de verano

Kerry and Jess, enjoying the cigarette butts

The next weekend, we ventured to another nearby beach called Cádiz, this time without Keely (she said she wanted to go to Granada, but I’m fairly sure that her fear of beach cafeterias may have played a part in this decision) and with the addition of two guys named Alex and Ryan, some other friends from the program.  Cádiz was everything that I had hoped for in Matalascañas—beautiful white sand, clear water, and room to breathe on the beach.  The clear horizon line points to northern Africa and the white washed cathedrals set against cresting waves make the town postcard-perfect.  Swimming in the ocean in Cádiz was like being in a salty wave pool at Wild Waves, only without the screaming children and lifeguards.  Fantastico!

Plaza in the center of Cádiz

near the cathedral

cheesing on the waterfront

Cádiz shoreline

 We stayed the night in Cádiz, so we were able to spend the first day touring the area.  Kelsey, Adam, Ryan and I took the 2€ catamaran ferry to nearby El Puerto de Santa Maria for a sherry tasting.  El Puerto is one of three towns that make up the Sherry Triangle, the only region in the world that produces sherry.  The other points of the triangle are Jerez de la Frontera and Sanlúcar de Barrameda, however our guide explained that sherry from each of these places is very different.  We were able to tour a bodega and taste several different sherries, which was really enjoyable.

Sherry tasting in El Puerto de Santa Maria

My photography, Jess' gymnastics

Cádiz sunset

When we took the ferry back to Cádiz we watched the sunset and found an amazing tapas restaurant, so I was beyond pleased.  All in all, it was an excellent trip that restored my faith in Spanish beaches.

Happy birthday, Mama!

Sunday was my Mama Zeryn’s birthday, and in honor of her, I wanted to post a quick tribute.

This is the first year that I’ve ever been away from my mom on her birthday.  While I did get to have a lovely Skype date with my parents, it’s not quite the same as getting to bake your mama a cake.  Though being far away is difficult, I am lucky enough to have the most supportive, loving, encouraging family in the whole world.  My Mama Zeryn is my role model and my best friend, along with being one of the wisest and most compassionate people that I know.  Her influence and guidance has led me to become the person I am today, and her unconditional love is the purest I have ever seen.

I truly can’t wait until this spring when my mamas come to visit me here in Spain, but until then, this will have to suffice as a public birthday salutation.

can you see the family resemblance?

I love you with all my heart, Mama!  Happy birthday!

“I didn’t come here for real life!”

Today marks one week that I have lived with my Spanish family.  They are, in a word, wonderful.  I couldn’t be luckier.  

It all began last Friday after a ridiculous night out (see previous post if you missed that ridiculous story).  About half of the program participants have roommates from CIEE in the homestays.  I was placed with an Oregonian named Keely, and again, I couldn’t have had better luck.  Keely and I were picked up last Friday from the hotel by our host mom, a beautiful woman who kissed both our cheeks and spoke to us in Spanish as if we could understand her (ha!).  After wedging our suitcases into her tiny hatchback, we proceeded to our new home.  Her name is Rosario, but she told us to call her Charo.  She drove us to an adorable complex in the center of the city with a marble sided courtyard and an abundance of exotic plants.  When we came inside, we were greeted by two gorgeous young women who turned out to be Charo’s daughters, Elena and María.  That afternoon they cooked us an amazing lunch and we started to play the great game of charades that has become my daily form of communication.  Driving motion- en coche? Conducir?  Como se dice?  So began our lives in Spain.

 the courtyard in my new home

exotic plants in the foyer

my street

 adorable mailboxes

Since then, my family has taught me practically everything I know about living in Sevilla.  My sisters are fantastic—they continually stop everything that they are doing to help me figure out how to say something correctly.  Elena is 26 and is home for the summer before she leaves for an adventure in New York.  This will be the first time she has been to the United States, so we have a lot of fun talking about the differences between Spanish and American customs (for example, the Tooth Fairy in Spain is a mouse called el ratoncito Pérez).  She is also an amazing cook, and every meal she makes is better than anything I’ve tasted in a restaurant here.  María is 24 and studies at psychology at the University of Sevilla.  She loves to tell Keely and I about how to be jovenes in España (young people in Spain) and has a French boyfriend named David who we get to meet next week, which is super exciting.

Charo is a teacher, so she is great at correcting language and grammar.  She a mother in every sense of the word—she is totally loving, patient and is also capable of poking fun at you without being mean.  We now have a family joke originating from an instance at our first dinner, during which Charo regaled us with a story from her trip to Iceland (I really am not sure why this is normal in Spain, but apparently it is).  She said that she at a meal of pasta and some word that I couldn’t understand, which sounded like “pecao.”  I innocently asked, “Que es pecao?” which resulted in eruptive laughter for several minutes.  Charo had actually said “pescado” which means “fish.”  It turns out that here in Andalucía, people do not pronounce every syllable of each word.  This results in words like “Epaña” instead of “España” (Spain) and “bucar” instead of “buscar” (to look for).  My family is Andalusian to the core because Charo grew up in a pueblo outside of Cádiz and raised all of her children in Sevilla.  Therefore, I am becoming an expert in Andalusian Spanish, and whenever I don’t understand something, I just ask: “pecao?”

My partner in this fantastic adventure is Keely, my roommate and new friend.  Despite the fact that most CIEE participants are from the East coast and Midwest, Keely and I both went to universities in Oregon and live in the Pacific Northwest.  If this wasn’t coincidental enough, Keely was also a music major at Portland State University.  Before coming to Spain, she taught high school choir in Beaverton, OR.  Keely graduated four years ago, but her younger sister currently goes to UO, so we have abundant connections.  We currently share a tiny room and a trundle bed, which makes me feel right at home.  Keely is hilarious, creative, and the perfect cohort to navigate this city with—I truly couldn’t have asked for a better roommate.  She is also currently the keeper of the Quote Book, which includes my offhand remark that has become our Spanish mantra: “I didn’t come here for real life!”

 after some Spanish shoe shopping

As my time here progresses I am slowly accustoming to new cultural habits and norms.  These include wearing house shoes whenever indoors (ugh), taking siesta (a nap) in the afternoon, and depriving myself of food for extended periods of time.  I haven’t quite gotten used to staying out until the sun rises, but I supposed that will come in time if I begin to fully utilize my siesta time.

In other news, this week I began school, which is great.  I’m in a pre-intermediate class with ten students.  My teacher, Ana Maria, is from León but has lived in Sevilla since 1987.  In my class there are three German kids (Rowland, Friedrich, and Jana), a girl named Sara from Portugal, a guy from England named Mike, a girl named Yi from China, and two other Americans named Sarah and Evan.  I love school and I feel like I’ve already learned quite a bit.  Other highlights from this week were a free beginner salsa lesson, Spanish shoe shopping, and bearing witness to some gnarly food poisoning (more details on that later).

Keely at the river

The "Mushroom Plaza" near my house

Touristing in front of a fountain

Tomorrow I am going to Cádiz, which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful beaches in Spain.  Jess, Kerry, Kelsey and I are getting a ride there from a guy named Javi, who is a friend of Jess’ host brother.  It’s a little unclear where we’re going to stay the night and how we’ll get back to Sevilla, but I am unperturbed.

Coming soon, photos of my familia española (they’re being difficult right now and won’t let me take their picture because they say they have to “get beautiful”), a comparison of Spanish beaches (last weekend I went to Matalascañas which was… interesting), and a surprise post for an upcoming special event!