Okay, I’m going to stop sounding like a blue-book exam right about now.

In Spain, you may hear people say the following:

• Salimos después de comer.
• ¿Cuándo vais a comer?
• Paramos para comer.
• Te dieron de comer, ¿no?

I’ve figured it out—the Spanish day isn’t structured around the clock (not really). It’s all about la comida, lunch. (In high school we learned the word almuerzo, which isn’t the same thing in Spain. Almuerzo tends to be a mid-morning snack, whereas la comida is lunch around 2 or 3 p.m.) This led me to tell Mario that people are fixated on eating lunch! It plays such a central role.

In the states, we have morning until 11:59 a.m., afternoon after 12 p.m., evening after about 6 p.m., and night after about 9 p.m.

In Spain, morning is until you eat. After that it’s la tarde (literally “the afternoon”) until you have dinner. After dinner, it’s nighttime. For me, it’s still weird to hear 7 p.m. being referred to as 7 in the afternoon, but I’m getting used to it.

Photo from Hayley Comments

Eating must be pretty important for Spaniards! Of course, you know it is. Most Spaniards I know would not want to spend their lunch hour in front of the computer with a sandwich in their hand. Indeed, this is the antithesis of the traditional Spanish lunch.

Dad and I eating in San Sebastián, Spain

What is the (traditional) Spanish lunch about, then? It’s about …

… taking a real break. Don’t give me any 30-minute lunches, I’m talking at least an hour and maybe two. Of course, if you have a job, it’s shorter. Mario has a full two hours to eat, but since we live in Madrid, going home for lunch would just be silly. In small towns it is much easier to do this. Nonetheless, most Spaniards take a break, even if it is just to sit down with work colleagues in the office.

… first plate, second plate, fruit, dessert, coffee. At least in la casa de mis suegros, this is how it goes, almost always. You can shake things up a bit by having small appetizers for the first course or making the fruit the dessert. My father-in-law has fruit, dessert, and then sometimes a small cookie with coffee. Sweet tooth? Nah.

… the three o’clock news. Unless it’s a special meal, the news tends to be on while we’re eating. This doesn’t mean we always pay attention to it. Before the news comes on, we watch The Simpsons. Because of the timing, a lot of Spaniards end up watching the Simpsons, a fact I attribute to its immense success here in Spain.

… la sobremesa. A word with no real English equivalent, sobremesa is the chat after the meal, as people linger over coffee, sweets, and liqueurs. As people are generally content with their bellies full and the wine flowing through their veins, there can be some really intriguing and enlightening conversations that occur.

… la siesta. This is not as true as it once was, but many do pause to take a short nap, whether it be on the couch or in a bed! I find that the more I eat, the more I want a siesta! Of course, when we’re having dinner at my in-laws’ house, we generally don’t eat lightly.

La comida, besides meaning lunch, literally means “food,” emphasizing the meal’s importance for many Spaniards. As I live here longer and longer, I am beginning to love the concept and embrace the (outdated?) concept of sitting down with loved ones and pressing pause for a moment.

What do you love about the Spanish idea of la comida?

The Alcázar, as seen from afar

Walking up one of Toledo’s many hills to the city entrance

Trees are beginning to bloom

Mosque of Cristo de la Luz

Museo de Santa Cruz

Toledo Cathedral / Catedral de Toledo

San Ildefonso Church / Iglesia de San Ildefonos (Los Jesuitas)

From San Ildefonso’s mirador de las Torres, one can see all of Toledo.

Toledo Alcazar / Alcázar de Toledo

Located at the highest point in Toledo and once used as a Roman palace, the alcázar was held by the Nationalists under great siege by the Republican army. Today it is the site of the Army Museum.

San Juan de los Reyes Musem Toledo / Museo de San Juan de los Reyes Toledo

Have you heard of Los Reyes Católicos? If not, you must not have visited many places in Spain, because they are everywhere. The Catholic monarchs, Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile, are often credited with the unification of Spain after the Reconquista.

Isabella and Ferdinand built this monastery to celebrate the birth of their son and their victory in an important battle. It was initially meant to be their eventual mausoleum, but they changed their mind and were later buried in Granada.

Tanto monta, monta tanto, the Catholic monarchs’ motto

Of course, Isabella and Ferdinand had a motto: Tanto monta, monta tanto, Isabel como Fernando. What it means: Isabella and Ferdinand were equals. All along the ceilings in San Juan de los Reyes, you can find their initials (F for Fernando and Y for Isabel, as Y was used in the old Spanish).

Tagus River Toledo / El Río Tajo Toledo

The Tagus River is the longest in the Iberian peninsula, beginning in central Spain and emptying into the Atlantic ocean near Lisbon, Portugal. Its impact can be heard in Portuguese songs and stories: “My hair getting white, the Tagus is always young.”

Toledo will always have a special place in my heart. I studied abroad there as a 21-year-old junior in college, and its narrow streets hold a mystique that hasn’t been diminished by the years. I still love wandering in and out of shops, catching a glimpse of the Middle Ages or the Renaissance or the Gothic. I love hearing the cathedral bells chimes, eating marzipan, and wondering at the beauty of a city quite unchanged by the passage of time.

One of the many things that used to baffle me was the origin of Spanish nicknames. (Oh okay, they still kinda baffle me!) I understood how “Francisco” could become “Fran” and “Beatriz” could become “Bea,” but I didn’t quite understood where the heck “Pepe” came from!

1. There are no Ps in the name José.
2. There are the same amount of syllables in both Pepe and José, thus saving you no time.

I decided to turn to the ultimate source, Mario’s dad. As I have explained before, he is knowledgeable about so many aspects of Spanish culture, being a former teacher and all-around know-it-all in the best way. If I ever have a “duda,” he’s the guy I go to, especially if that duda has to do with plants, animals, climate, or Spanish history. He’s my guy.

He told me all about the reasoning behind the nicknaming process, but it all went over my head, a great whoosh! of knowledge flying speedily in one ear and out the other. A few years later, still feeling rather flummoxed, I sat down to put an end to this ignorance of mine.

• Pepe. This diminutive comes from the name José as I said earlier. There are two theories out there. The first, often espoused by the Spanish, is that it comes from the abbreviation of pater putativus (P.P.), which means “supposed Father” in Latin, attributed to Joseph of Nazareth (José de Nazaret), Mary’s husband and Jesus’s supposed father. This is mainly a popular legend, and most reputable sources claim that the real story is that Pepe comes from the Italian Beppe, short for Giuseppe (the Italian cognate for Joseph). I guess even most Spaniards have something to learn from this blog post!
• Paco. Paco comes from Francisco. St. Francis of Assisi was known as the Pater Comunitatis (Father of the Community) when he founded the Franciscan order. Thus, we get Paco from the first two letters of each word.

Other diminutives of interest:

• Chema. One of Mario’s friends in Salamanca when I met him was called Chema, and I had no idea his real name was José María for the longest time. Never mind that whole using a female name thing as well.
• Sito. Mario’s cousin, Sito, ran the marathon with him, as you might recall. Any guesses to his given name? Alfonso. Sitos are usually Alfonsos, although there is probably an exception out there somewhere. Alfonso –> Alfonsito –> Sito.
• Quique/Kike. Comes from Enrique.
• Chus, Susi, Suso. Those with the name Jesús out there have a lot of different nicknames!

Which Spanish nicknames do you find the most amusing or interesting?

I decided to use RANDOM.ORG to pick my winner. I plugged all your names into a spreadsheet (multiple times, if you like[d] me on Facebook or follow[ed] me on Twitter). Then I generated a random number, which just so happened to be 16.

And #16 on my spreadsheet was none other than …

CASSANDRA from Gee, Cassandra!

Congratulations! I hope you (or your friends/family, since I know you’re in Spain) enjoy the gift card. I will be in touch with you via email to arrange the details.

Thanks to all who entered, and don’t forget to like Y Mucho Más on Facebook!

Okay. Enough sucking up. I’m really here to tell you all two things.

1. I just set up a Facebook page for my blog, so if y’all could go like it, it would be much obliged.
2. If that isn’t motivation enough, here’s something that just might be.

GIVEAWAY TIME!

Who doesn’t love a good giveaway? I know I do. What’s at stake this time?

A $25 gift card to La Tienda!

What is La Tienda? La Tienda is an online Spanish specialty food retailer. The family who owns the business lived in Spain in the 1970s, and they decided in 1996 to “share with our neighbors a taste of Spain.” (They also have a retail store in Williamsburg, Virginia.)

You can buy tons of different, varied Spanish food products, including:

• Jamón—This means serrano, ibérico, sliced, whole, and even specialty holders!
• Chorizo and sausages—Yes, this means morcilla, and salchichón, and lomo.
• Gift baskets
• Artisan cheese
• Wine
• Christmas sweets
• Olive oil and vinegar
• Olives
• .. and many more!

What do you have to do?

Not a lot. There are several ways to enter:

1. Leave a comment on my blog, and for fun let me know how long you’ve been reading my blog!
2. Email Me
3. Like me on Facebook, and leave a comment letting me know you’ve done so for an extra entry.
4. Follow me on Twitter, and leave a comment letting me know you’ve done so for an extra entry.

Note: the gift card can only be applied to orders in Spain and the US, but if you live in Spain and would like to participate please do! You could buy things for friends/relatives back home.

This contest will be open until one from today: Monday, May 13, at 6:00 p.m. Spain time (that’s 12:00 p.m. eastern time!).

Living in Spain means being constantly surrounded by the sport. I tried to resist, but resistance is futile. Grin and bear it until your grin is no longer fake. Empecé a cogerle cariño (I started to almost like it) in the summer of 2010, when Spain was fighting to win its first World Cup title. Iniesta, you changed my life. I do love the Spanish national team, but when it comes to La Liga or la Champion’s, you can count me out.

Besides, I’m a Hoosier. We eat, sleep, drink, and dream basketball.

But—believe it or not!—there are other sports in Spain. Let’s take a look at some of the most popular.

Motorsports

Motorsports include Formula One, IndyCar, Stock Car (see: NASCAR), Motocross, and all other sorts of racing involving motorized vehicles. In Spain, the most popular ones are Formula 1 and some involving motorcyles (e.g., MotoGP).

[Source: Wikipedia]

Some of the most famous Spanish athletes in this category include: Fernando Alonso, a Formula One driver (piloto, as they in Spanish), a two-time World Champion, who races for Ferrari; Jorge Lorenzo, a motorcycle road racer and World Champion in 250cc and MotoGP; and Dani Pedrosa, a Grand Prix motorcycle racer and champion in 250cc Grands Prix.

Basketball

People do like basketball in Spain, and the NBA is very popular here, sometimes even more popular than back at home. (In Indiana, we’re college-basketball fans.) Sometimes when I mention that I’m from Indiana, someone will excitedly shout at me, “Indiana Pacers!” There is also a Spanish league, called La Liga ACB, and it’s regulated by the International Basketball Federation (FIBA from its name in French). This league is regulated quite differently from the NBA and is populated by many Americans who weren’t quite good enough to make it back home as well as others who desire to play in the competitive European leagues.

The Spanish league competes to win the Copa del Rey, the King’s Cup, (just like in the soccer league) as well as in the Euroleague.

Some Spanish-basketball-player names you may recognize:

Pau Gasol, who plays for the Los Angeles Lakers, is four-time NBA All-Star and has won two NBA championships with the Lakers.

Ricky Rubio, who plays for Minnesota Timberwolves, was the youngest player ever to play in the Spanish league at age 14. He was drafted by the Timberwolves in 2009, and thus became the first player born in the 1990s to drafted by the NBA.

Serge Ibaka, who plays for Oklahoma City Thunder (formerly the Seattle Supersonics), is a Spanish player who was born in the Republic of the Congo. He is the third youngest of eighteen (!) siblings.

Tennis

Perhaps the biggest reason tennis is so popular is Rafa Nadal, considered to be the best Spanish tennis player of all time.

Rafa, also known as “The King of Clay” for his incredible success on clay courts, is only 26 years old, but has won eleven Grand Slam singles titles (including seven French Open titles) and an Olympic gold medal in singles in 2008. His success, charisma, and general likability have turned him into the singular reason for the sport’s popularity in Spain.

Futsal

Futsal (fútbol sala) is like soccer, but played indoors on a smaller field. Its name comes from the Portuguese futebol de salão, “hall football.” Spain’s team has won the FIFA Futsal World Cup twice and the UEFA Futsal Championship six times, making it second after Brazil.

Handball

Perhaps the most surprising of all to me, handball (balonmano) is quite popular around the country. In handball, two teams of seven players pass the ball (with their hands, surprise surprise!) in order to score a goal. There are two thirty-minute halves. Goals are scored quite frequently, and the game moves fast, making it enjoyable to watch.

[Source]

In 2013, Spain won the World Men’s Handball Championship, defeating Denmark 35–19.

Cycling

Cycling is also quite popular here, and has been since the mid-1900s. The Vuelta a España, or Tour of Spain, is one of the most important events in the cycling world alongside the famous Tour de France and Giro d’Italia.

The Tour de France is unquestionably the most famous of the three, and there have been Spanish champions, including Federico Bahamontes, Luis Ocaña, Pedro Delgado, Óscar Pereiro, Alberto Contador, and Carlos Sastre. But perhaps the most famous is Miguel Indurain, who won for five years running between 1991 and 1995 and held the record until broken by Lance Armstrong. (This is not to say there hasn’t been cycling controversy here the same as in the US.)

Miguel Indurain in 1996

So there you have it. Spain: it’s not all about football. (But it is mainly about football. No denying it.)

I like running. I started in high school, before it became so popular. The truth is that, although I love running, I’ve never taken it that seriously. Actually, the first time I ran a “real” race was in December 2005, when I took part in the Ismaninger Winterlauf, since at that time I was working in Munich. It was 12.8 kilometers, and I finished with a time of 52:50. It was snowy and bitterly cold and I think I was wearing two T-shirts (maybe three). It wasn’t until 2009 that I ran my second race. The race was in Salamanca and the distance was 7.650 km. My time was 28:56. I was dating Kaley at that time, which helped motivate me to run fast in order to impress her.

Kaley: I ran too, but not nearly as fast as Mario

My first big race was in March 2012, when I ran my hometown half marathon. I didn’t have a specific plan to train for the race. For those who follow this blog, you may have read that Zamora is a beautiful sort of medieval town. However, those in charge of organizing the race for some reason didn’t draw up a race course that went through the nice old town. The race is on the outskirts with 90 degrees turns (those who run know how much making an u-turn kills your rhythm) and, worst of all, it was two laps of the same circuit (boooooooooooring). I ended with a time of 1:25:15, which I was happy about.

When I moved to Madrid last October, I considered running the Madrid marathon. It sounded scary, but I wanted to try. Sito, my cousin, who is an experienced marathon runner, talked me into it. He knows a lot, and he guided me through it. I had done some calculations in order to estimate the time I would need to run a marathon, based off my half marathon from last year in Zamora. One way to estimate a marathon-finishing time is to double your half-marathon time and add ten minutes, which for me would be exactly three hours. Kaley had downloaded a training plan for a person who goes running three days a week. As I said before, I’d never used a training plan before. I usually go running à la Forrest Gump—it’s what I like, but I’m not what you would call organized when it comes to setting up a training plan.

The problem with preparing for a long race is that you have to start training well in advance and you never know what might come up, such as a lot of work in the office (which would mean not being able to follow my scheduled training sessions) and/or injuries. The former didn’t happen, but the second one kind of did. Three weeks before the race, I started to feel—literally—a pain in my butt. After a couple of hours sitting at my desk at work, I couldn’t sit still; I kept fidgeting. I didn’t know I had a slight case of piriformis syndrome. I should have rested a bit, but the marathon was drawing closer, so I decided instead to run shorter distances, so that I wouldn’t overload the muscle (even more than it already was), and stretch. It did get better.

Kaley was my personal food expert, and she cooked for me foods rich in carbohydrates, so I got plenty of energy. The day before the race she prepared some delicious cannelloni. Finally the day of the race came.

[Source]

The race started at 9 a.m. It had threatened to rain, but in the end it didn’t make an appearance. But the weather was brisk. Both Sito and I wore two layers. The race started in the Plaza de Colón. Because there are so many people who participate in either the marathon, half marathon, or 10K, people are separated into corrals, based on previous race times or estimated race times. I was in Corral 1, just behind the professionals. (You don’t see the Kenyans even at the very beginning, they’re so fast.) Before the starting gun went off, we had a moment of silence in honor of the victims of Boston. I had attached a black ribbon to my T-shirt.

Then the countdown began, and before I knew it, my legs were moving. We were running up Paseo la Castellana. In the Rock and Roll marathons, they have bands playing live music, which really pumps you up. There are also liebres (literally, hares) or pacesetters, who are experienced athletes recruited by the organization. They have a balloon tied to their back (it must be annoying running with that) with a sign that says how long it will take them to run the marathon. If you follow them, it helps you not to go out too fast or too slow, so I tried to keep close to the three-hour pacesetter.

[Source]

Around the 14-kilometer mark, my left knee and ankle started to bother me, and I began to lose sight of the three-hour pacesetter. Luckily it passed, and I was able to find a comfortable pace, which I gradually increased until I was again able to see the three-hour balloon. That part of the route went through the center of Madrid, on Calle Fuencarral, through Sol, down Calle Mayor. People lined the streets and applauded, there was rock music, and thus I felt the rush of adrenaline; I was meeting my three-hour target.

[Source]

With regards to hydration, every five kilometers there were hydration points with water bottles and cups of Powerade. I drank something at every point so as not to get dehydrated. As I passed the half-marathon point, I saw that I had completed the half in one hour and twenty-eight minutes. I felt confident that, if I kept it up, I would be able to meet my goal. However, it was too late to realize that I was overconfident … because it was then that I hit the metaphorical wall.

I had not heard of the “wall” concept until the previous day, when I went to the fair organized by the marathon. I had to go to pick up my bib. There were professional athletes giving a talk, and one (I don’t know his name) was speaking about his experience the previous year, when he too hit the wall. Someone asked him if the feeling passed, but he said no, that it had lasted until the very end. I hit the wall around kilometer 23, and it lasted until the end, so I basically ran the entire second half with this horrible feeling in my head and legs. Moreover, added to my suffering was the fact that I now had to run through the Casa de Campo, which became unbearable.

At kilometer 27, they were giving out Powerbar energy gels, which taste disgusting, but they help. Still, I had to stop twice to stretch my hamstrings and pyramidal muscles, which were killing me. Along the route, there are people on skates who carry Vaseline and topical painkillers in spray form. The good thing about them being on skates is that they can spray you while you’re running; you don’t have to stop. I had to resort to them twice.

Here comes the figure of my guardian angel: Sito. We had both planned to run the marathon in three hours, and he sacrificed this in order to wait for me and cheer me on. As the race went on and I was suffering, I watched as people passed me by and I barely passed anyone. I tried to think about songs that motivated me; I needed to break through this wall that was preventing me from moving forward with the ease that I desired. It makes you want to stop and quit. I think that, sometimes, the wall is real—your muscles don’t function at full capacity because you haven’t trained enough. With determination and Sito’s help, I was able to keep going. Most of the time when I run, the kilometers seem to fly by, but at the time the distance between one kilometer and the next seemed endless. The good thing is that when you leave Casa de Campo, you return to the city, and there were again people cheering. We arrived at Atocha and there were only three kilometers to go. The bad thing is that the remaining kilometers were ascending, but I was able to draw strength from somewhere. I couldn’t quit then, we were almost to Parque del Retiro, I only had to push a little bit more.

Finally, I saw the 41-kilometer marker, and I knew there were only 1,195 meters left! There were people along the path clapping, so you have to stop looking pitiful, keep your head up, and enjoy the last minutes. I crossed the finish line as it marked 3 hours, 21 minutes. Mission accomplished.

Throughout the race, there is a sense of camaraderie because other runners encourage you and you, them if you see them stop. Or, in my case, Sito, who patiently waited for me, so that we would finish together, thus sacrificing his personal finish time. “Si empezamos juntos, acambos juntos,” (“If we started together, we finish together”), he kept repeating every time I told him not to wait for me.

These days after the race, Kaley has been taking care of me and massaging my legs with specific creams to help them recover from the effort.

I may not have finished in three hours like I wanted, and naturally I feel a bit disappointed, but in life you must learn from everything, and—above all—from the negatives. I learned three valuable lessons: Don’t leave anyone behind, don’t get overconfident, and have the ability to analyze situations in the long term.

Over my years in Spain, I’ve tried a lot of Spanish dishes, typical and atypical, homemade and in restaurants, in four different weddings … and I’ve come to realize that I’m very loyal to my favorites. Given the choice, there are certain foods I would eat day in and day out, every day for the rest of my life. If I could, you know, and money weren’t an option. What are these foods, you ask? Of course you want to know, because my favorite foods should be everyone’s! (Just kidding. The less people like them, the more for me!)

In no particular order, they are:

[Source: Recetas de Rechupete]

1. Lentejas. You could translate this as lentil stew, but lentejas literally means “lentils.” It’s a stew of sorts, made with lentils, but not just any lentils—Spanish pardina lentils. My mother-in-law makes lentejas. Her recipe includes chorizo, leeks, carrot, bay leaf, and garlic.

[Source: Wikipedia]

2. Jamón. Oh of course, another guiri likes ham, how original. But guys, it’s just that good, especially if we’re talking jamón ibérico de bellota, Iberian ham, here. Which of course we are. What is Iberlian ham? Also called pata negra (black hoof), this ham is cured, and not what you think of when you think about a traditional Christmas ham. No, this ham is beyond. It is made only from black Iberian pigs, which mainly live in the south and southwest parts of Spain. The pigs are free range, and they roam around eating mainly acorns during a certain period of their lives. This results in one of the tastiest things I’ve ever eaten.[Source: Wikipedia]

3. Salchichón. Salchichón is a thick, dry cured sausage made of pork. I’ve gotta admit something. I’m a salchichón snob. My in-laws make homemade salchichón and chorizo, and once you’ve eaten theirs, there’s no going back to the storebought stuff. It’s that good. I’ve been converted to the religion of salchichón casero, and I’m nothing if not devout.

Salchichón, similarly to other cured meats (jamón, chorizo, etc.) was a way to preserve meat after slaughter, la matanza, before refrigerators. It was a handy (and tasty!) way to eat pork.

[Source: Wikipedia]

4. Tortilla de patata. This tortilla has nothing to do with the Mexican one. This is a potato and egg omelette. Oh yeah, and onion. Some people make tortilla without onion, but for me it isn’t the same! Most of the time, you can just refer to it as a tortilla, but if you want to clarify, it’s tortilla de patata, to distinguish it from a typical omelette, called a tortilla francesa, or French omelette. It’s a dish that you can find in most any bar, anywhere you go in Spain.

The great thing about this dish is that it’s easy and you likely already have all the ingredients: potatoes, eggs, onions, salt, and olive oil. It’s also cheap, but satisfying.

[Source: Toast]

5. Pa amb tomàquet. Meaning “bread with tomato,” this dish is a breakfast staple in much of Spain, but especially in Cataluña and Andalucía. In my mind, there’s no better breakfast. Some like to add a bit of jamón, but I’m a purist.

This dish isn’t one you prepare, exactly, but here’s how you make it: rub a clove of garlic on toasted (or untoasted, but toasted is easier) bread, followed by a ripe, raw tomato. Season to taste with salt and good olive oil. In some places, the tomato and garlic mixture is premade, and you just have to spoon it on.

[Source: Spanish Sabores]

6. Salmorejo. I do love tomatoes, why do you ask? Salmorejo is another dish typical of Andalucía, originating from Córdoba. Its ingredients include tomatoes, bread, garlic, oil, and vinegar, with eggs and ham for garnish (and for taste, of course). Lauren from Spanish Sabores also loves salmorejo, and you can read her mother-in-law’s recipe here.

[Source: Wikipedia]

7. Huevos rotos / huevos estrellados. Meaning “broken eggs,” this dish is great to have with a few drinks. It’s hearty and contains lots of protein and carbohydrates. Unlike Americans or Brits, Spaniards don’t generally eat eggs for breakfast, so this is a lunch- or dinnertime-type meal. There are variations on this dish: some people scramble the eggs while others fry them in olive oil, leaving the yolks runny. I prefer the latter preparation, especially with eggs from the pueblo, meaning a richer flavor and bright orangeish yolk. It can be accompanied by smoked ham, bacon, or chorizo, my favorite being ham. (Recipe)

8. Arroz con leche. What we call rice pudding, arroz con leche is Mario’s signature dessert, and one of the only things he thinks he’s better at than his mother. Every year on his birthday, he spends a good hour to hour and a half tediously stirring the pot on the stove so as not to burn the milk and ruin the whole thing. The main ingredients in our version of this rice pudding are milk, rice, sugar, cinnamon sticks, and lemon.

9. Chichas. (Also referred to as picadillo de chorizo, zorza, jijas.) After reading this post, you might think I’m a carnivore, but the truth is I rarely eat meat. Not for any moral reasons, though, it’s just that meat is rather expensive, and I don’t mind getting my protein elsewhere. Nonetheless, I cannot resist the allure of chichas. What are they? They’re made from chorizo meat, fried up in a skillet, and served with warm with bread and preferably some good red wine.

[Source: Carnicería Ibañez]

10. Queso de oveja zamorano. Similar to queso manchego, this sheep’s milk cheese is prepared and cured in the province of Zamora, from the sheep milk produced by a specific breed particular to the province. It is the most delicious cheese I’ve ever had—buttery, creamy, nutty, pungent. It goes great with red wine. As the Spaniards say, “Vino y queso … ¡sabe  a beso!” (Wine and cheese taste like a kiss!)

What are your favorite Spanish foods?

So, let me just ask you, readers:

Why are you here?

Now that I’ve asked that, I can tell you why I’m here. As it says on my about page, I came to learn Spanish. I stayed for a boy. Mainly.

Would it shock you to know I kinda sorta hated study abroad? I was old enough not to get homesick, but I still did. I did not like living in a teeny-tiny room in an old nunnery with walls so thin you could hear your roommate typing late at night. I didn’t like having to wash my clothes in the shower because the laundry room charged upwards of $10 a load. (This was back when the one euro equaled something like $1.50.) I didn’t like feeling as if it were impossible to make friends except for drinking buddies and intercambios who weren’t really interested in hanging out with me after hours. I didn’t like seeing my bank account drain slowly down to almost nothing.

But I did like learning Spanish. I did like that, and so I dove in headfirst, as much as I could. I got another intercambio because one just wasn’t enough. I spoke to all the waiters in Spanish, even if they insisted on speaking to me in English (the bastards). I studied vigorously, even when all of my classmates were basically taking a semester off. I traveled as much as my budget would allow. I learned to love red wine, olives, and tortilla de patata.

But there was so much I didn’t know at the end of my stay! I didn’t know how to tapear, I hadn’t mastered the subjunctive, I had never had a real Spanish friend that I could text and ask to hang out with. This bothered me. I went back for my senior year unsure of the future and what would happen after May 2009.

As senior year wore on, I had a decision to make—find a job or go back to Spain? I chose Spain, specifically Salamanca. I was excited to experience a new side of Spain, to live in my own apartment, and meet Spaniards. Oh yeah, and improve my Spanish.

I got back to Spain in September 2009, a year and three months after I’d left Toledo. A few days later, I met Mario. He came to the door of the place I was interning, and I was unintentionally rude to his friend and him, but he still went out to dinner with us. The next day, I pretty much asked him out, and the rest was history. My mother waited patiently by the computer to hear updates about this guy I talked about all the time, even though she’d warned me not to fall in love with any Spaniard (only because that could keep me far away from her). Oops! I was head over heels after a few weeks. After a month, I met the family. After three, I was ready to stay indefinitely, if it meant we could be together.

Staying in Spain is not an easy task for many reasons. There’s bureaucracy. There’s homesickness. There’s cultural differences that drive me crazy at times. There’s times when I get so sick of Spanish, of struggling to find the word that I just want to scream, pack my suitcase, and get on the next plane to Chicago. Get me outta here! Mario knows this more than anyone. Luckily, although he wouldn’t feel the same way, he sympathizes as best he can.

There are some expats that love Spain much more than I do (although, don’t get me wrong, I do love it), and they’d stay forever if it were up to them, boyfriend / girlfriend / husband / wife / lover or not. I wouldn’t, though. If not for this husband of mine, I’d be in the States, where my family is, where my friends are, where my history is. Living in another country wears on me, and I’d love to be able to just hop in my car and drive to my parents’, but right now it’s just not possible.

Right now we’re here; right now this is our home. It may not be for forever. That’s okay. When I married a Spaniard, I gave up that right to certainty about where home is. Home is here. Home is there. Home is Zamora, it’s Crawfordsville, it’s Bloomington, it’s Salamanca. It’s Spain and it’s the US. That’s why I’m here.

What about you?

Sometimes I find there are two words in English for one word in Spanish. For example, dove and pigeon. Are those two birds really different? (Wikipedia says not really.) But a lot of times there’s one word in English for a few in Spanish. This is what trips me up. Let’s talk examples.

Towel

Definition: a piece of thick absorbent cloth or paper used for drying oneself or wiping things dry.

But in Spanish:Toalla

Paño

Trapo (de cocina)

Rag

Definition: a piece of old cloth, esp. one torn from a larger piece, used typically for cleaning things.

But in Spanish:

Trapo

Bayeta

Bowl

Definition: a round, deep dish or basin used for food or liquid.

But in Spanish:

Bol

 Tazón

Cuenco

Plato hondo

Scarf

Definition: a length or square of fabric worn around the neck or head.

But in Spanish:

Bufanda

Pañuelo?
Foulard/Fular?
Pashmina?

To Be

This is the biggest. To be or not to be? ¿Ser o no ser? ¿Estar o no estar? I’ve finally mastered this, but sometimes I still wonder why a person cannot ser loco, he must estar loco.

Okay, what about you? Tell me some other examples of this phenomenon, either from Spanish to English or vice versa.

When you move to Spain, you might have high hopes of finding a job, a job that will satisfy you, hone your skills, perhaps even assist in your professional formation and networking. If you moved here with such aspirations, I salute you—for your optimism and your naïveté.

If you are here, you most likely teach English in some form or another. To quote my parents, you don’t have to like it; you just have to do it. Suck it up and do it: speak slowly and deliberately at all times, learn to deal with ridiculously low pay expectations, and search for endless Youtube videos to entertain your six-year-old students with amazingly short attention spans. Lauren from Spanish Sabores writes eloquently about this dilemma in her post, The Quarter Life Expat Crisis.

If someone had told me five years ago that I’d be an English teacher, I would have laughed. Hard. You see, I got my degree in Spanish (surprise, surprise!), and teaching wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. So to find myself here is rather ironic. Disheartening is a word I’d like to avoid.

Bilingual elementary schools … where many end up

It seems that many of us (by us, I mean fellow native English speakers) want something more than private classes, language academics, and applying to the Conversation and Language Assistant program for the third year running. But we’re stuck. Spain’s rampant unemployment (56.5% for youth!) isn’t exactly helping. So we stay here, we schedule classes with reluctant sixth graders, and we learn to refer to tennis shoes as “trainers” in order not to confuse anyone. We get used to being paid under the table, to being part of Spain’s undercover economy that doesn’t show up in the jobs’ numbers.

Five years from now, I may still be here in Madrid. Perhaps I’ll still be trying to get students to remember to add an “s” on the third-person singular present verb forms: “She runs” and not “She run,” please and thank you. But here’s to hoping—hoping that, as many expats before me, I might break out of the English-speaker mold and find that, somewhere out there, Spain has a place for the Spanish major in me, too.

Last year (July 7, 2012, to be exact), I got married in Spain. I got married in Spain to a Spaniard. We celebrated our wedding in a Romanesque church with origins in the eleventh century, the beautiful San Cipriano of Zamora.

Source: Turismo de Zamora

Trying to get married in another culture, with all its requisite paperwork and bureaucracy, makes you realize that planning the actual wedding and reception is a lot easier than trying to get the Spanish government to recognize the legality of your upcoming marriage vows. And so I get emails from readers who are in the same situation as I used to be: they’re dating Spaniards; they want to marry them … but how? How indeed.

So You’re Dating a Spaniard … and now you want to say I do / Sí, quiero in the church.

To get married in the church, you have to do all the things for the civil ceremony and a few additional ones for the religious part. I’m going to talk about the Catholic church, because … well, that’s my experience and it’s the most common in Spain. A helpful website for both civil and religious ceremonies can be found here. Also, remember that every region in Spain is different, so be sure to ask your local authorities about any special requirements they may have.

1. Get a copy of your birth certificate.

This is first and foremost. But, ojo, it can’t be a vintage birth certificate. It has to have been issued within the past six months, I believe. Silly? Perhaps, but you don’t want to play with their rules.

For Indiana, my home state (go Hoosiers!), I went through Vital Records and ordered two copies because I’m slightly neurotic. Your state is going to be different. They say it takes 4–6 weeks, but I got it sooner than that. It cost me $10 for the first copy plus a $1.85 identifty-verification fee (and $4 for the additional copy). The “problem” was the shipping. I wasn’t sure whether to insure it or not; in the end, I did. That ended up costing me about $17.

Next you have to get that sucker apostilled. An apostille is an international certification and is comparable to notarization on an international scale. The process for getting an apostille on a document varies from state to state. In Indiana, there’s no fee for the apostille service. I sent in my birth certificate along with the following to the Indiana Secretary of State’s office:

• an original signature
• a cover letter with the name of the country (Spain), my phone number, and information as to where the documents had to be sent afterward
• a postage-paid envelope for them to send it back to me

I hope you are okay with spending some money. Bureaucracy requires paperwork, and paperwork requires money. Yours.

2. Proof of freedom to marry.

So, this document doesn’t exist in the U.S. I know, I know. Whaaaat? How can I be expected to produce a document that doesn’t exist? This will happen in Spain (see: getting your degree recognize by the Spanish government), and you will just have to suck it up and find your way over it, around it, or through it. One of those methods has to work.

In the civil court, you can accomplish by swearing before an American consul. In my case, I did so by swearing in front of my pastor and having him sign a document I found on the Internet. I signed it, and so did he. He stamped it … you know, to make things official-ish and all. Boom, done!

Note: apparently in Madrid, this is different, and the statement has to be made by the parents. What’s with that, Madrid?

3. Baptismal certificate.

We Protestants can be strange. I didn’t get baptized as a baby, because in my denomination this is frowned upon. Instead, I got baptized in my church as an eight year-old. I asked my mom one night before bed, and that was when I got dunked in a lukewarm bathtub in front of 200 blurry strangers. (My vision leaves much to be desired.)

My baptismal certificate was more like this one … not so official looking

But here in Spain, Catholics like to get all strict about baptismal certificates, and the one I got in Sunday School class wasn’t exactly cutting it. Nevertheless, we somehow convinced the 80-year-old bishop that it was indeed legitimate, and off we were.

4. Certificate of consular inscription.

This isn’t hard to do. I just made an appointment with the American embassy in Madrid. I did have to wait a bit, but the process was simple. There is a small fee for the service.

My official translator has two other degrees as well

5. Translate your documents.

Luckily for me, I’ve got a translator for life in Mario. You will need to have your birth certificate, the apostille, baptismal certificate, consular inscription, and proof of freedom to marry translated into Spanish. This must be a legal translation, so you can’t just do it yourself.

6. Application forms.

There are various application forms involved in this process. We filled these out and had them filled out for us. We had to visit the bishopric of Zamora as well as Mario’s dioceses to speak with the bishop and priest of Mario’s district. You could tell that this was a very rare occasion for them, as the paperwork often required us to explain the situation two or three different times in the same meeting.

7. Posting of Banns.

You’re probably asking yourself right now what in the world Banns are. I had the same question. Basically, in Spain, people are required to go through a process called “posting of banns” for a civil ceremony. This is a public declaration of intent to marry. It’s possible that your nearest embassy/consulate can provide a letter saying that this is not required in the U.S. In our case, our names and wedding date were posted outside the door of Mario’s church for weeks before our wedding. You know, just in case someone had an objection to the marriage.

What happens now?

Well, now you’ll be wanting your residency, right?

The libro de familia.

The libro de familia (literally family book), or Spain’s marriage certificate, can be obtained from the civil registry after the wedding takes place.

Get empadronado/a.

Because Mario and I had not yet moved to Madrid, I got empadronada (registered with the census) in Zamora, where we got married. I didn’t do this until after the marriage, but it’s important in order to get your NIE (foreign citizens identification number). Getting registered in Zamora is about 100x easier than in Madrid. That’s why I always advise people to get married in your future spouse’s hometown, if he/she is not from Madrid.

Apply for your NIE.

You can check out the process here. In this case, you are not a student, so you won’t be applying for the same type of NIE as you would have if you were in Spain as a Conversation and Language Assistant or on study abroad. I did this process in Zamora, and like I said earlier, it took much less time than it would have had I done it in Madrid, where foreigners abound and you have to reserve appointments months in advance.

What did I miss? Have you gotten married in Spain or another country? Do you plan to?

I love Gothic cathedrals for one reason: L-I-G-H-T.

At this campamento de inglés, the children are expected to speak in English with their native camp counselors (monitores in Spanish). It sounds good, right? Send your kid to a camp, where he/she will learn English from native speakers! Awesome, yeah?

Yeah, about that. The problem starts when the children’s level of English is so low that they cannot convey basic desires in English. If a child does not know the word for milk, how can he/she be expected to speak only in English, to follow commands in English, to understand a native English speaker? You got me.

This camp wasn’t about teaching English really. There were no classrooms or lessons or exams. It was just meant to be a camp in English. That’s it. But I came away having spoken more Spanish than English.

And that’s the irony of English camps in Spain.

Have you ever taught at an English camp in Spain? What was your experience?

Silence

Parades are not known for being silent. They are cacophonous affairs, rife with clashing cymbals, the blasts of trumpets, and the cheers of the bystanders.

Not here, not these procesiones (processions).

During the day, yes, the silence is indeed broken—by music, and choirs, Gregorian chants, even funeral marches compose an extraordinary soundtrack for the most splendid of processions—but soon night falls, and silence once again reigns. Here, silence is a symbol of religious devotion and austerity.

Photo from All Posters

La Procesión del Silencio

The Procession of Silence. Even the name inspires awe. Keeping silent is not customary; keeping silent is not easy.

Kneeling in the cathedral atrium, surrounding the image of Cristo de las Injurias, the brothers wait for their oath. The mayor says a short prayer, and the bishop goes on to take the brothers’ oaths, saying:

“Hermanos de la Cofradía del Santísimo Cristo de las Injurias, ¿juráis guardar silencio durante todo el recorrido de esta santa procesión?”

The brothers swear this oath together, vowing to keep silent for the entire route. Some walk barefoot throughout the cobblestoned city streets, but all maintain silence. They march together—slowly, solemnly, dolefully through the streets of Zamora, a town which at times seems to have been transformed into the13th-century, back to a time where Spain did not yet exist. The first documented reference to the celebration of Holy Week goes back to this century, when Zamora’s monasteries and convents organized processions around their cloisters and streets. It was meant to teach the common people, in a powerful way, about the passion, death, and eventual resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Throughout the centuries, Zamora’s Holy Week has maintained its sobriety and solemnity. (In other regions, the festival has been transformed into a rather glamorous affair.) But like Catholicism in Spain, Holy Week is full of contrasts: noise and silence, day and night, joy and sobriety … but this does not take away from the beauty and drama of Holy Week in Zamora.

Still, for many, the most moving experience of the whole week is the singing of Miserere mei Deus. After a two-hour-long procession through the streets of the casco histórico, the street lights are turned off and the only light comes from the red candles the penitents carry. And then the choir begins to sing, the words ringing out into the cold night:

Miserere mei Deus, secundum magnam, misericordiam tuam …

For an enchanting contrast to other Holy Week celebrations, make your way to Zamora for a singular look at the power Catholic traditions still hold in an increasingly secular country.

Zamora’s garlic festival is real! No need to eat it right then and there, though.

Many signs make me aware of Semana Santa, Holy Week, imminent approach: beautiful pink flowers on trees, increasing temperatures, children playing in the parks, sunlight that lasts until almost 8 p.m. … I could go on.

But wait—do you hear it, those drums beating far off in the distance? That’s the sound of Semana Santa approaching. In much of Spain, Holy Week is an occasion for solemn (and at times joyful) processions, cofradías, candlelit silent streets, family, and—yes—food, especially sweets.

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So, in Zamora, it’s time to think about aceitadas, the typical Semana Santa sweet along with sugared almonds (almendras garrapiñadas). My mother-in-law surely has hers made already, just waiting to be dunked into milk, tea, or coffee.

[Source]

Want to make your own? My suegra’s recipe is top secret, but here’s a good one nonetheless:

Get Your Aceitada On!

Translated and adapted from Cocido de Sopa:

Ingredients

• 8 oz. (~240 mL) of olive oil
• 4 ¹/₄ cups (500 g) all-purpose flour
• 1 cup + 2 tbsp. (220 g) granulated sugar
• 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 2 eggs
• 20 drops of anise essence or 3 tbsp. of ground anise
• 1 egg for egg wash

Method

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, and cinnamon (also anise if you are using ground). Add the olive oil, egg, and anise if using the essence. The dough will be a bit grainy, so you need to knead it to form a compact ball. Let it sit in the refrigerator for a couple of hours or overnight. After sitting, there may be a bit of excess oil. Let the excess drain off in a colander if necessary.

Preheat oven to 320°F (160°C). Prepare a baking sheet with oven-safe wax paper. Form balls with the dough of approximately 2 inches (5 centimeters) diameter. Place them on the baking sheet, leaving about 1.5 inches between each of the balls. Beat the egg in a small bowl, and brush it on the dough balls.

Place the baking sheet in the oven and bake for 25–30 minutes or until browned on the outside. Take them out, wait 2 minutes, and place the aceitadas on a baking rack to cool.

What are the typical Semana Santa treats where you live in Spain? If you don’t live in Spain, which would you like to try?

I mean it. Put it down.

Newsflash for all you non-beer drinkers: Mahou, Spain’s most popular beer, is not that good. Most large-scale Spanish beer isn’t that good. (But never fear, Spain! Neither is large-scale U.S. beer.) For example: San Miguel, Estrella Damm, or Cruzcampo. (Cat, please don’t kill me for this statement, and I promise I will buy you all the Cruzcampo you want.) The one good thing it’s got going for it is that it’s refreshing. Mmm, watery beer. According to this review,

I can’t find anything that would distinguish it from a hundred others … Well, maybe one thing—it’s way too gassy for my liking … It’s refreshing enough if served ice cold and as it’s pretty inoffensive … bland even.

But good news, Spaniards and expats living in Spain! Not all is lost. The microbrewery craze is finally hitting Spanish shores (and inland, too). If you don’t know, a microbrewery is a brewery that produces beer on a small scale. For instance, in my favorite town of Bloomington, IN, a great microbrewery is Upland. In Madrid, there are several new(ish) breweries around. In Madrid, I have had La Cibeles and Lest.

But better than both of those was a beer I had this weekend while on a trip to Toledo:

Domus

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Domus is a handcrafted beer from Toledo. The name Domus means “home” in Latin and refers to its homemade quality. On the beer’s logo you can see the two-headed eagle from Toledo’s coat of arms.

Domus was launched in 2009 in Toledo’s modest Santa Barbara neighborhood by Fernando Campoy. Campoy had been a beer fan from a young age, and the idea of launching his own company came to him about five years before he began Domus. Thus, he set out to learn and research by talking to different brewmasters from around the world and visiting microbreweries in order to learn and understand every possible detail of the process.

Mario and I tried two beers, the Regia and the Summa. However, we are excited to try more of the varieties soon!

Domus Regia

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Domus Regia, Mario’s favorite, is a classic: everyone will like it. As a toasted and top-fermented beer, the roasted malt shines through. With 4.3% ABV, the Regia is a lovely shade of amber, and its turbid appearance is due to the yeast, which is suspended in the beer, as it is not filtered.

Given its smoothness and balance, this beer could accompany just about any meal or snack, as it is able to balance high-contrast foods as well as enhance the aromas and flavors of otherwise relatively bland foods (white fish, soft cheeses, etc.).

Domus Summa

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Domus Summa, my favorite, is not for the faint of heart or for those who don’t like beer. Its higher alcohol content (7.2% ABV) makes it a rather more complex beer than the Regia. The Summa is brewed with roasted malt, but it’s the touch of honey that gives it a subtle sweetness in both its aroma and taste. Its style could be compared to the Belgian abbey ales. It’s also darker than its sister beer, more of a dark-brown burgundy shade.

Unlike the Belgian abbey ales, however, the Summa is not quite as full bodied as one would expect. It is, perhaps surprisingly, quite easy to drink despite its 7.2% ABV. It would go quite well with strongly flavored dishes, like jamón or chorizo, stews, or red meat—not to mention chocolate!

Domus Aurea

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Domus Aurea, which we did not try, is an India Pale Ale (IPA). In the 19th century, the English found themselves in need of a beer that would last the whole voyage from England to India. Thus, they came up with a beer with lots of hops and alcohol, which allowed the beers to stay good on the long journey. Nonetheless, the Aurea has rather lower levels of hops and bitterness than a typical IPA. Its scent is very spicy, with the hops being very present. Its lightweight body and carbonation make it a beer that is very easy to drink.

As with Regia, it can be enjoyed with a variety of dishes, from fresh cheeses to desserts.

Domus Greco

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Domus is also launching a beer for the fourth centenary of El Greco. If you don’t know, El Greco (literally “The Greek”), was born in Greece and resided in both Venice and Rome, but he set up shop in Toledo in 1577, spending the rest of his life there. In that time, Toledo was the religious capital of Spain and one of the greatest cities in Europe. El Greco painted some of his best and most famous pieces there, including El entierro del señor de Orgaz (in English: The Burial of the Count of Orgaz).

Where Can I Find It?

Unfortunately, I think that Domus is only available in the Toledo area or online (with high shipping costs to boot!), so it’s not easily accessible. Nonetheless, if you happen to visiting Toledo for a weekend—it’s a great day trip from Madrid!—stop by one of the many establishments that sell it and enjoy un tercio (33 centiliters) or una caña (draft, smaller portion).

The problem about cooking (and eating!) in another country is that sometimes you can’t find what you want. There are certain ingredients that aren’t sold here, at least in your neighborhood supermarket. When I was living in smaller towns—Toledo (2008), Salamanca (2009–2010), or Zamora (2011, 2012)—I noticed this a lot.

I understand the desire for a store that’s just like back home. You know, Trader Joe’s would be nice sometimes. But sometimes I see the products advertised at Taste of America, and I have to admit I would never buy some of those things. Some I would, though. But which ones?

Things I Would Never Buy

1. Peanut butter. Okay, if you don’t have a food processor, I would buy this. However, I do have my nice little food processor, and making your own nut butter couldn’t be easier. The only downside is the clean up.
2. Mixes. Make your own cake or brownies. Way cheaper, and healthier (not so many chemicals!).
3. Frosting. Likewise, it’s way too easy to make your own frosting. I have my favorite frosting recipe, and it is amazing! You don’t have to use powdered sugar!
4. Popcorn. There is popcorn here; enough said.
5. Vegetable dip mix. This is easy enough to do it yourself. I like this recipe, with Greek yogurt and a bunch of spices you already have in your cabinet.
6. Baking soda and corn starch. Why buy these when they already exist over here, and for a much cheaper price? Look for bicarbonato (baking soda) and maizena (corn starch).
7. Strawberry syrup. Because no. Because it’s gross? Because I once vomited after eating this.
8. Guacamole mix. Guys, making great guacamole is not difficult. The only semi-difficult part might be finding cilantro, but I’ve seen it in nearby fruterías, so don’t despair.
9. Pop Tarts. Who knew that one could actually purchase this for the low, low price of €5.60 ($7.28)? These breakfast delicacies bring me back to my middle-school days, when they were my dad’s daily breakfast.
10. Marshmallows. I don’t have anything against them, and I get why you’d want to buy them, but marshmallows just aren’t my thing.
11. Yeast. Yes, thank you I would like to pay 10x more yeast!

Things I Would Totally Buy

1. Pretzels. Yeah, I’ve seen them here, but—to be frank—they suck. I would love to get my hands on some of these pretzels, most notably the Snyder’s Sourdough Hard Pretzels, although the nearly €4 ($5.20) price tag kind of puts me off.
2. Cheez-Its. These sorts of tasty, cheesy crackers can’t really be found here. The cracker culture is really lacking. I have actually made my own before, and it’s not that difficult, just time consuming, but I think I’d rather do it myself than pay €6.35 for one box!
3. Maple syrup. Worth it. I do think there are some specialty Spanish shops that will sell it, but the good stuff (a.k.a. not Aunt Jemima’s) is worth forking over some hard-earned cash.
4. Some cereals. I am a little bit ashamed to admit that I saw this box of Cap’n Crunch and suddenly had the urge to grab a huge bowl of it. Peanut butter, regular … come back to me!
5. Sriracha. I would buy this amazing sauce. Mario might not touch it, but this sauce is so versatile. You can use it on shrimp, in a Bloody Mary, cornbread muffins, on popcorn, in dips … the list goes on and on. But I don’t see this listed at Taste of America. Too bad!
6. Blow pops. I have this weird love for all things lollipop. Yeah, I’d buy ’em!
7. Reese’s. There’s nothing like the combination of peanut butter and chocolate. Although I do make my own desserts that combine the two, Reese’s satisfies a childhood craving.
8. Ranch dressing. Ranch dressing is a gift given to man; we must not waste it.

Which products would you buy?

Our new(-ish) favorite game show is called Lo Sabe, No Lo Sabe. If you speak even a little bit of Spanish, you’ll know that this translates roughly to He/She Knows, He/She Doesn’t Know. It’s one of those rare instances in which the Spanish version is shorter and more concise.

This show began on July 30, 2012, and is broadcasted on the Spanish television channel Cuatro (Four) and hosted by Juanra (short for Juan Ramón) Bonet. Juanra (Twitter) is hilarious and makes the show as funny and entertaining as possible. The show is an adaptation of the original Israeli game show Smart Face.

How does the show work?

Juanra and his crew walk around the city looking for their next victim—okay, contestant—from among the passers-by. The contestant who agrees to participate is presented with a question, but they are not allowed to answer the questions for themselves. They must find someone to answer the question for them.

But—here’s the catch!—the person isn’t always supposed to actually know the answer to the question. Let’s refer to the show’s title: Lo Sabe, No Lo Sabe. Sometimes the selected answerer should know; sometimes he or she should not know. You will often hear contestants asking Juanra, “Tiene que saberlo/no saberlo, ¿no?”

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Usually, it goes a little something like this: if the person should know the question, it’s more difficult. If the person should not know, it’s easier. Obviously, the easiness/difficulty of the questions increase as the quantity of money to be won gets greater.

This question (source), for example, is worth €100 and is quite easy for any educated Spaniard. So she just has to find someone who knows it.

Once the contestant has reached €1000, he/she has the option to plantarse, leave with the money and go on his/her merry way. However, the contestant may also continue to win either €3000 or €6000, depending on whether Juanra is wearing the red tie (or red scarf if it’s cold). The contestant then chooses whether they want a Lo Sabe or a No Lo Sabe question. If they choose lo sabe, it’s usually quite difficult, and if they choose no lo sabe, it’s much easier.

How do they choose whom to ask?

Well, how would you choose? Do stereotypes always hold true? Sometimes they do; sometimes they don’t. Sometimes you ask a young person a question that most young people aren’t likely to know, and they know it. Sometimes an elderly person surprises you with his/her knowledge of popular culture. It just depends.

Mario and I like to guess who we might ask based on the question. For example, last night, in a quest to win €6000, a man choose no lo sabe, confident in the “ignorance” of people, which is generally a good bet. The question was: “Which famous extraterrestrial in the movies said, ‘Phone home’?” Even I know this, and I haven’t seen the movie (released before I was born, okay?). And so this guy goes and asks a man who seems to be about late 50s, early 60s! I was astounded at this, because I would have asked someone who seemed to be about 18 years old, a person not as likely to have seen the film!

Luckily, this guy still had his emergency call. So he ended up winning and taking home the €6000. But sheesh. (See it here.)

I Couldn’t Win

I couldn’t win this, at least not in Spain. A lot of times the questions are, naturally, based on Spanish popular culture, children’s songs, celebrities from Mario’s childhood and earlier, and I have no idea what they are talking about. Sometimes they are more general, but not always. I suppose I could end up winning by accident, but I’m not as sure. I need a US-centric version to be sure!

Have you seen this show?

In our guest room a flag hangs from the wall above the bed. No, not a yellow and red flag; this one is red, white, and blue. You know—the stars and stripes. My dad bought Mario this flag to remind him where he should (eventually) settle down. My dad would like it very much if we moved back to the US, preferably yesterday. It has a prominent place in our home, this flag. Why?

Vacationing in Sevilla

We live in Spain. We carry out the day-to-day of our lives, of our life, in Spain. We speak in Spanish and eat Spanish food. Yes, we do all this, all this Spanish stuff. We are Spanish.

But though we reside in Spain, we dream about living in the States too. We speak in English and watch American TV shows and movies. I make brownies and cookies and other American dishes. So we are also American.

In reality, he is Spanish. Born and raised in the heart of Castilla y León, with family roots that go back centuries, Mario is as Spanish as they come. Zamorano, really. His dark hair and eyes betray him. His telltale accent, his pronunciation of the z and c in the true castellano accent, his love for lentejas and  cocido and jamón and tortilla, his concern for his parents never to worry unnecessarily … he is Spanish.

He is Spanish, and I am American. I speak English with the typical accent of many modern Americans, an accent that is almost impossible to pinpoint. I don’t worry about my parents worrying. I like basketball much more than football (soccer), and I don’t really enjoy eating a big meal at two o’clock in the afternoon. It still surprises me when children are out past 9 p.m., especially on weeknights.

Though we feel as Spanish and American as they come, we also love each other and each other’s culture too. So together we make our own culture, a third culture: a Spanish-American culture. We make stupid jokes: “Sweetie foot” (because pie means foot in Spanish) or “Estoy espalda” (literally “I am [a] back”). We eat tortilla for dinner and chocolate-chip cookies for dessert. We watch the Simpsons in Spanish.

We also compromise, just like any other couple, bicultural or not. We decide on the best way to clean the house. We let each other get away with things. We do things that don’t seem logical to us at times, but we do it because it’s important to the other person. I may or may not vacuum an insane amount of times per week.

Just call us the Spanish-American Institute of Couples.

There are so many delicious things here, and they are not all terrible for you (another stupid myth!):

• lentejas (lentil stew, a.k.a. the bomb)

• cocido (healthy if you stay away from the tocino, a.k.a. fat)

• patatas a la importancia (eat this today if you know what’s good for you)

And of course my favorites: cheese, wine (remind me to tell you my favorite wines from Toro later!), chorizo, and salchichón! My in-laws make the last two, and if you haven’t had them … well, you haven’t had good chorizo or salchichón! It’s just the facts.

Buuuuut, let’s be real, there are some foods I don’t like. Yeah. It’s true. It’s true, and I said it. Not all Spanish food is to my liking. What are these foods, you ask? Why, let me tell you.

• Pulpo. Nope, I don’t like octopus and don’t tell me that I should, because the chewy texture just skeeves me out.

• Morro, oreja, callos. Not into organ meat, and I’m even less into eating pig’s snout. Oreja is really chewy and just thinking about it can give me the heebie jeebies. (I hope all Spaniards reading this are learning some new “words” today.)

• Torreznos. What are they? They’re pieces of pig fat cut into strips and fried. Yum? Add to this varied fritanga, because it is way too fatty for my liking. Eating probably takes five days off my life.

• Flan. Not into that jiggling mess of a dessert.

• Aceitadas. Sadly, this is a typical dessert in Zamora, my favorite city in Spain, but I just don’t dig anise.

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• Aguardiente. Not a food, but this liquor sets my insides on fire and tastes vile.

Which foods do you dislike in Spain? And if you say salchichón, I may cry. Tears of happiness. Because there’s more for me!