Monthly Archives: May 2012

“Typical Spanish”

I remember when, during my first-ever intercambio, I first heard the phrase “Typical Spanish.” I don’t recall what we were talking about, but the phrase stuck with me, not only because it’s not actually something that would come out of a native speaker’s mouth.

Spain is different. We know this. But what is, exactly, “typical” of Spain? Whenever someone asks my opinion on a village fiesta, no matter what I say, their opinion seems to be “typical” (“típico”). But Spain is so diverse: in language, in festivals, in culture, in people. So is anything typical of all of Spain? I’m not sure. But I think the pueblo may just be.

I wrote about Mario’s mother’s pueblo already, Manzanal del Barco. This weekend, it was time to visit Mario’s father’s village, San Cebrián de Castro, for the first time. (I know, I’m surprised I hadn’t been there yet either.) It was their Virgin’s day (yes, they have a village virgin), La Virgen de Realengo. So, obviously, there was a procession. Here are some photos.

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Funnily enough, the priest nearest to the camera (who’s looking at it) was a religion professor at the school I was at last year.

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While telling my mother about this festival, I neglected to mention that the virgin is, indeed, a statue. I told her, “They carried the village virgin around town.” In retrospect, this does sound odd.

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Mario is enjoying carrying the statue. The men (macho, macho men!) took turns carrying it, because, uh, it is heavy!

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Traditionally, all the children who have done their first communions during the year are in the procession, dressed in their communion attire. In Spain, the little girls, who are all of nine years old (usually), dress like miniature brides, while the boys often dress as marineros (sailors). This little girl was the only child in San Cebrián’s procession.

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You can see Mario’s father at the right of this picture. As the secretario of the local cofradía (Wikipedia says: “A confraternity is normally a Roman Catholic or Orthodox organization of lay people created for the purpose of promoting special works of Christian charity or piety, and approved by the Church hierarchy”), he is in charge of things like maintaining the data of the members, correspondence, badges, etc. He is the man. Obviously.

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After events like these, what else can you say but “typical Spanish”?

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How to Annoy a Spaniard

After seeing the posts on Matador about How to Piss off a German/Chilean/Italian/Dane, Mario told me I needed to write one about Spaniards. I’m a bit hesitant because writing this post could possibly piss (some of) them off. I’m a much bigger fan of making them think I’m awesome, so … you’ll understand my hesitance. Nonetheless, as I wrote it, I found that in the end it was really a complimentary post. Read on; perhaps you’ll see why.

  • Tell them you prefer the food in the States/England/your home country. Spaniards are immensely proud of their cuisine—and rightfully so. Spanish food is awesome, and I miss it when I’m not here. There’s nothing than can replace my suegra’s cooking. She makes the best lentejas (lentil stew), tortilla de patata (Spanish potato omelette), homemade mayonnaise, pan de queso (cheese bread), carne guisada (a kind of roast meat), pisto (similar to ratatouille, but better), etc. I can’t say enough good things. But still. Sometimes I prefer the States, simply because of the variety. There’s spicy food! There’s spices to buy in bulk, like garam masala and star anise. There’s brown sugar! There’s Thai / Indian / Afghani / Tibetan / Vietnamese—and this is all in my college town of Bloomington. So avoid it. Their food is better (and honestly, it is divine).r_lentejas_s31340053_01

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  • Refer to American football as just football. Mario loves to joke about this—”Why should it be called football when they just kick the ball when they … punt, you call it? In real football, the players use their feet all the time.” He doesn’t get pissed off, but he’s very hard to piss off, I’ll admit.
  • Tell them soccer is boring. I personally do not believe soccer is boring. It can be boring, and I do prefer basketball (duh!), but I’ve heard many of my countrymen say this. I recommend not saying this in front of any big Spanish soccer fan, at least not without some caveats about how you are an idiot and your opinions don’t matter.

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  • Prance around in sweatpants. Sweatpants are perfectly acceptable—in your own home. Outside on the streets? Not unless you’re going to the gym, mister. Also, tennis shoes (or trainers or sneakers) probably shouldn’t be worn unless your circumstances fit into the above-described ones. Mario’s mother recently saw him on the street wearing (what I thought were normal, decent-looking) pants and tennis shoes—and let’s just say she was less than pleased. She urged Mario to throw away the pants, pants I found perfectly normal looking. I just don’t get it, I suppose.
  • Insist that cold weather doesn’t cause colds. Even if the research shows differently, Many Spaniards (including my dear suegra) will insist that many weather-related things cause you to “coger frío,” including: not wearing adequate clothing in the winter (sweaters, scarves), drastic temperature changes, drinking cold water in the winter, etc. There is no point in insisting that viruses cause colds, not cold weather. Just wear your scarf, damn it! Cold water is for summer.
  • Insist on subtitles instead of dubbing when watching a movie on television. Spaniards are very used to dubbing. In contrast, I’ve watched very few movies dubbed into English, and, honestly, I hated them. I prefer subtitles, and I don’t mind “reading” the movie, as some see it. But in Spain, almost every movie is subtitled and so are many TV shows—unless, of course, they’re made in Spain. But there are a lot of American movies and TV shows here. In fact, The Simpsons are much more popular here than in the States.

I want to reiterate that this post is all in good fun … but what would you add?

My Adopted Village

Do you have a village? If the answer to that question is yes, you’re most likely Spanish, or—as in my case—an adopted Spaniard. Mario’s village is called Manzanal del Barco, and it has a total population of 156, according to the Spanish Wikipedia article. Now, unlike many Spanish people, Mario does not actually enjoy the village, at least not for long periods of time.

Nonethless, “hay que ir a veces,” at least to show la guiri what true village life is like.

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So last Saturday, off we went, as there were several festive activites going on in our beloved Manzanal—even if there was only one real holiday, on May 15: San Torcuato. You see, every city in Spain, big or small, has its own patron saint, and Manzanal’s is San Torcuato (Saint Torquatus in English). And, like any great Spanish party, they extend it so that it goes on all week long!

We went on the 19th to hand out invitations to several of Mario’s relatives, and to see—what else?—the bulls. Now when most Americans think of bulls, they think of “running with the bulls” or bullfights. No, no: this was more like bugging a heifer. Seriously, it was not a bull. It was a vaquilla, or a heifer. A female cow. Actually several female cows, as apparently bothering them for too long isn’t nice, so there have to be more than one.

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Not so bothered in this picture.

I won’t say much about the politics of bullfighting, nor this type of spectacle, but it’s not uncommon in Spain, and the whole village came out to see it.

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This guy had to escape.

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Waiting for their turns with the red flag.

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Also on this trip, I learned of another interesting tradition: el mayo (maypole in English), which is a trunk that stands in the main square during the month of May. It’s made by cutting down a tree and then placing it in the main square, where previously a hole is dug so that it doesn’t fall. The also add another branch from a special type of oak tree called an encina. It’s a sign of fertility (oh goody!), because it stands for spring and new life.

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Have you ever been to a Spanish village? What did you think?

Boda a la Española: La Prueba

I just arrived last week, and we’ve been hard at work with wedding “things.” Although it’s not as time-consuming as planning a wedding in the States, there are a lot of little errands to run, things to buy, people to see … it can get overwhelming. But yesterday was different—yesterday was “la prueba del menú.”

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Our wedding party (really, is there any other part?) is being held at nearby hotel, located about a ten-minute drive away from Zamora (the city). We received a menu, full of delicious-sounding dishes and were told to select three of each category to try: appetizers, fish, sorbets, meat, and desserts. Yes, if you are unfamiliar with Spanish weddings, there is usually a meat dish and a fish dish. Carnivores much?

Here’s what we chose to try (with our final choice having the three asterisks by its name):

Entrantes (Hors d’oeuvres)

There was no need to pick; we get them all. They were very varied, and it was hard to say which one I liked best, but it was probably the one with smoked salmon.

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Included: little cups of salmorejo (which had too much paprika), cups of yogurt with honey and walnuts, smoked salmon canapés, sausages, and so many other things I don’t even know how to name.

Aperitivo (Appetizer)

  1. Langostinos sobre lecho de cebolla caramelizada al aroma de armarnac. (Prawns on a bed of caramelized onions flavored with armarnac [type of cognac].)
  2. ***Hojaldre relleno de esparragos trigueros y salmón con salsa holandesa. (Puff pastry filled with wild asparagus and salmon with hollandaise sauce.) ***
  3. Vieira gratinada rellena de gambas, con virutas de jamon. (Scallop gratin shrimp with shavings of ham.)

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Pescado (Fish)

  1. ***Rodaballo al horno con verduritas, salsa de carbineros y patata panadera. (Baked turbot with vegetables, Carbinero sauce, and golden potato rounds.) ***
  2. Rape en salsa cántabra con almejas. (Monkfish in Cantabrian sauce with clams.) <—Apparently, this dish is very successful as of late, so the guy in charge suggested we try it.
  3. Rodaballo al horno con salsa de mostaza y cebolla caramelizada. (Baked turbot in a mustard sauce, served with caramelized onions.)
  4. Merluza rellena de txangurro en salsa de almendras y apio con gambas. (Hake stuffed with crab sauce in an almond-celery sauce with shrimp.)

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Picture of the merluza at the left and the monkfish at the right.

Sorbete (Sorbet)

  1. Limón. (Lemon.)
  2. ***Mango. (Mango.) ***
  3. Mandarina. (Mandarin orange.)

Carne (Meat)

  1. ***Lechazo asado con ensalada. (Roast lamb with salad.) ***
  2. Milhojas de solomillo y foie gratinado con salsa holandesa, hongos y verduras. (Steak tenderloin millefeuille and foie gras, served with hollandaise sauce, mushrooms, and vegetables.)
  3. Solomillo de ternera alistana al Pedro Ximénez. (Tenderloin steak with Pedro Ximénez.)

Postre (Dessert)

  1. Tarta de las monjas y helado de tulipa nata nuez. (The nuns’ cake with walnut ice cream.)
  2. Tarta del convento y helado de tulipa nata nuez. (The convent cake with walnut ice cream.)
  3. ***Texturas de tres chocolates con helado de toffee. (Cake with three chocolate layers, served with toffee ice cream.) ***

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Picture of the tarta de las monjas.

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And of course, it was accompanied by wine. Cheers to July 7, 2012!

Zamora + La Guiri

Hello, all. I’ve taken a bit of a social media hiatus, however lame that may seem. I mean, I still got on Facebook and Twitter; I just merely glanced at them. I’ve been occupied, you see … in my adopted hometown of Zamora.

The past weekend included great lunches by Mario’s mother (the best cook in Spain, obviously), running along the Río Duero, Elías Mora wine, wedding dress shopping (!), tapas, and attending a first communion. Totally normal. (Not really. Spain, I’m back!) Spain is wonderful in May; I highly recommend it. My Zamoran abuelitos are out in full force, and it’s all I can do not to pretend to be a jounalist so I can snap their photos.

 Ahh, Zamora.

My days now will be filled with running, wedding planning, great food, sunshine (I hope), tapas, cheap delicious wine, learning photography, and enjoying life with Mario to the fullest.

So Here’s the Deal

So here’s the deal, you guys … in two days, I’m off to Spain. I know, right? What/why? it’s so confusing. It might have something to do with this guy.

He’s pretty awesome! He was hired by a sah-weet law firm, and so we’re moving to Madrid. We won’t eat hot dogs, but we will eat lots of salchichón, That’s a fact.

Right now, these are my emotions:

  • Excited
  • Nervous
  • Scared
  • Crazy

Is “crazy” an emotion? I feel it 24/7. I’m so excited to return to Spain, to marry him, to move with him to a new city (Madrid). I’m nervous to leave behind everything I know. I’m scared to spend 2+ years in Spain. I’m crazy about him. Anything else? I feel it all, la verdad.

Please let me know I’m not alone. What have you done in the name of love? How has it paid off?

Nostalgia … Let’s Take Advantage of It.

There are moments when I find myself sitting alone in my bedroom, laptop perched precariously on my knees, right around the time I’m supposed to be falling into a deep sleep … but instead, I’m looking through old photos. Perhaps to set the mood I’ll have a bit of Jimmy Eat World playing. You know, mood music.

Oh yes, don’t you remember that one time? I do remember it, long for it, romanticize it, and then I get nostalgic. Perhaps tears will leak out the corners of my eyes, and I’ll hope no one’s up to hear me sobbing at 1 a.m. in my bedroom. Looking back at these moments, I find them so perfect, so wonderful, so happy and joyful and everything life should be. I don’t think about the imperfection hidden in the photos: the impatience before the shot, the upset stomach I had that day, how everyone was sweating profusely on that swelteringly hot summer’s day.

This is easy to do. Nostalgia can be engrossing, even addictive. And really, there’s little harm in remembering the past every once in a while, as long as it doesn’t overtake my life. My problem is I never seem to appreciate these events while they’re happening.

I’m on the brink of some major changes in my life: getting married, moving to Madrid, starting a new life with Mario. It’s everything, all at once. It’s exciting and scary and overwhelming and weird and challenging and wonderful. It’s what I want; it’s what I don’t want. It’s what I need; it’s what I don’t need.

I often forget to be purposeful. This time, though, I need to be just that. I need to be nostalgic for the present, for the life I’m living now and about to start living in fewer than ten days.

But those ten days do separate me from the beginning of that life, and so I will start now, not then. I will cherish the last few days I have here in Indiana before all the madness begins. I’ll cherish the just-planted endless cornfields of Indiana, the rapidly increasing humidity, the ability to take my dog on a walk, practicing Spanish with my mother, cooking for my family, and being.

 Ready. Set. Go!