Fish-capades,"to shit a brick," and puppies: just your average day in Granada

Written February 15, 2010

Hola hola coca cola! Haha, oh man, I crack myself up. That was what my high school Spanish teacher said every day to start class, I think. Señora Waldron, you would be so proud of me now! :P Anyways, on to more important things. Today I think I’ll write about the food here, and my classes. Trust me, you want to read this, unless of course your name is Melissa and you can’t stand fish. In which case, maybe skip this one, honey.

The food here is MAGNIFICENT. You know how they say the Mediterranean diet is the healthiest in the world? Ok, so they might mean in Greece or Italy or something, but I’m really praying they mean Spain, because I eat SO MUCH here, and I want to believe it’s good for me. No, guys, you don’t understand, I eat like a horse. Or maybe two horses. I don’t understand where the food goes; every lunchtime I look at the food Concha gives me and I’m like, “No way. No way that all of that is fitting into my stomach.” But GUYS—I’ve started finishing my portions. It’s LOCO. For the first time in my life, I am actually worried about putting on weight. I’m serious. I am praying to the gods of metabolism to help me out here.

Here’s a typical day of eating for me: Breakfast at 9 am, two pieces of toast, a croissant filled with chocolate, a small muffin, café con leche; Lunch at 2:30 or 3 pm, a large green salad with olives and tuna and corn, a large meat soup OR several rather large pieces of fish OR a plateful of paella OR something similar, half a baguette, and a piece of fruit; dinner at 9:30 pm, a ham and cheese sandwich, toasted to deliciousness, and a yogurt or pudding. SO MUCH FOOD. I swear to god I must eat several loaves of bread a week. But guys, the food in delicious. Really amazing. Concha says she’s not the best cook, but I have to disagree; she has yet to make me something I genuinely don’t like. Sometimes I get kind of sick of all the fish, but I’m all about complete cultural adaptation—I’m kind of hardcore, just sayin’—so I just smile and swallow.

Which reminds me to tell two food stories. The first week I was here, she made me a fish soup, which was mostly pretty yummy—potatoes and carrots and broth and what looked like scallops and clams… and then this other fish. It took me a minute to figure out what it was, but then I lifted a tentacle out of the soup. Ah. Calamari. Squid. Hahaha. I looked at Concha eating away and I thought to myself, “As weird as the texture or flavor may be, you can’t offend this lovely woman, who probably is pulling out all the stops for you during your first week here. I bet this is a delicacy. And hey, I’ve swallowed a lot more disgusting things in my life (cow udder? yech). Bottoms up!” And I ate every bite of that soup. It was kind of hard to chew some of the really intact tentacles just because I felt like I, personally, was killing the poor little Squidums, but you know what, that was one good soup.

The second story comes from today, actually. Concha was going to try to surprise me by making me pescado frito—fried fish, a local specialty. But she couldn’t get the frier to work exactly right, and it kind of just turned into grilled fish, which was, again, mostly wonderful! We had this cod-like white fish which was SO YUMMY, and then this chewy ring things—maybe more squid? Or octopus? Or something… I know it was a sea-life thing. And then, the coup de grace: little tiny fishies, eyes and bones and stomachs and everything still intact. I was like, oh hot damn, I don’t know if I can do this one. I watched to see how she ate them, and she just stuck three or four on her fork and popped ‘em into her mouth. Egad. So I copied her, and oh man, I am not really a picky eater, and fish usually goes down fine for me, but these little fishies tasted a little bit too much like little fishies, if you know what I mean. But you know what, I knew she’d tried so hard to make me a nice surprise and it hadn’t turned out how she wanted, and god help me, I was not going to make her feel any worse. So, I just paired the fish-ums with bread or pieces of the roasted pepper salad (DELICIOUS) or other fish bits, and I gobbled them down. Smiling the whole time. And as soon as I finished lunch, I brushed my teeth really well and ate three cookies that my momma back home sent me. SUCCESS.

So, yes, most of the food I eat here is TO DIE FOR yummy, but sometimes I get an odd little fishy and have to kind of grit my teeth to dig into it. Honestly, it is so worth it to me to make Concha feel good, and also because I convince myself that these odd fish bits must be really good for my health, right? Right.

On to the next subject! Which is classes! I am actually really excited about my classes this semester for two reasons: first of all, they seem really interesting and all my teachers seem great; secondly, because they seem a lot easier than what I’m used to. Hallelujah! A vacation after the nose-to-the-grindstone which was la France!!

My first class of the day today was Spanish Culture and Civilization, and it looks like it’s going to be a lecture-and-notes class, but the teacher is really engaging and asks questions for us to respond to, so I don’t think I’ll fall asleep or anything silly like that. Today we went over the history of Spain from prehistoric times until the Spanish Civil War—wow! It was a great overview, and got me really excited to see what we study in this class.

My second class was Translation, and I have to be honest—it will not be NEARLY as cool and inspiring as my Translation class with Francesca last semester. I was literally sitting in class thinking, “I miss Francesca! And translating in class! And Sylvia Plath and Henry James and Toni Morrison!” But you know what, it’ll be a really good, practical class for me to take if I ever need to get work translating for the tourism industry or a school or other academic institution, because those are the focuses of the class, along with translation technique. I’m hoping it’ll be a nice complement to what I learned last semester, and the teacher is, once again, a pretty cool guy, although, sadly, not Francesca. :(

My third class of the day was Tutorías, which I’ll only have once a week, and I really didn’t know what to expect from it. It’s a class of only four students and the teacher, and it’s supposed to supplement our Spanish learning with grammar and that sort of thing. The teacher is named José, and he is a kick in the pants. What a card. He cracks me up. His favorite word in English is “ass,” which he pronounces with a hilarious Chicago accent; his favorite phrase is “shit a brick,” because he says there’s nothing so expressive in Spanish. He says his life changed the day he learned that expression; there is a before and an after the “shit a brick” phrase came into his life, and he tries to use it every day now. He is also in love/obsessed with Diana Ross, and has pictures of her plastered all over his office, where we have class. He says his only hobby is: doing nothing. Haha! And he pronounces “hobby” the Spanish way, with a very guttural ‘h.’ And demands that we do the same. I might be in love with this man. Hahaha, what a character. Anyways, we’re actually going to be studying/learning street Spanish and Spanish slang in that class because we don’t really need to study grammar anymore (or at least he thinks we don’t).

My last Monday class is Flamenco and Traditional Music of Spain. The first day of class, this little, skinny, balding old man walked into the room, and I was like, oh boy, maybe this wasn’t the best class choice. However, as soon as he put on some Flamenco music and started stomping and banging on the desk like a wild man, I realized I’d made a very good choice. He is the most adorable old man ever; I want to put him in my pocket and take him home with me, you know? And he is SO passionate about music, and in particular Flamenco. Flamenco is so much more than just one tune or even one style of song, and it’s much more than just the dance or just the music or just the singing; it’s a whole culture, and there are so many subcultures and categories and important aspects of it. I am so excited about learning about it all and coming home an expert in this beautiful music!!

So those are my Monday/Wednesday classes and teachers in a nutshell. Tomorrow (today by the time I post this), I have Comparative Study of Literature and the Visual Arts with a really enthusiastic and amiable teacher, as well as Written and Oral Expression, which is a required class that I wasn’t excited about it at first, but I love the teacher and I think it’ll be good for my Spanish, so I’m happy with it after all. Yay!

I wanted to mention one more thing before I sign off and go to bed: today, I was feeling kind of delicate emotionally, kind of down. It was one of THOSE days. Today, I saw five different puppies on my walks to school and back. How can you not be cheered up by bouncy, wobbly-on-their-feet, excited-about-life, floppy-eared, big-pawed, puppy-dog-eyed little woggies that almost fall over when they shake? and run up to sniff at your ankles and smile their puppy dog tongue-y smiles at you? And FIVE of them in one day? Ok, universe, I get it, chin up. Thank you again. I love you, too.

Pura vida (evidentemente),

Kelsey

Morocco/Marruecos/Maroc!

Oh my goodness, first real post! Yay! Well, let’s start with Morocco and Italy while they’re fresh on my mind. OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. I think I am the most fortunate person in the world. Both Morocco and Italy were AMAZING. Doing a play-by-play might be a little much, so I’m going to try to organize by highlights.

The most incredible thing about being in Morocco was meeting all of these wonderful, generous, lovely people. With the program my program went with (how many programs? there will be a test later), we stayed with a host family for two nights in Rabat, the capital city. My friend Rachel and I stayed with a young couple, Fatima and Saïd, I think, and they’re ADORABLE 2 year old daughter Ghita. (At first we thought her name was Rita because they pronounced it as if the first sound was a very guttural French ‘r.’) Ok, no seriously, the pictures of her and us are really cute, sure, but they DO NOT do her justice. This girl is not only the most charming child I’ve ever met, but also the most gorgeous and cute. She is going to have the boys lining up across the freaking city when she gets to be our age. No seriously, guys. And she was SUCH a daddy’s girl, it was so adorable. She always wanted to give him kisses and he coddled her and clearly loves her to pieces. He had her do her “top model” walk for us—she strutted across the room grinning with one hand on her hip and the other on her head, it was maybe the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I almost died of a cuteness-overload-cardiac-arrest right there on their Moroccan sofa. And she is obsessed with two things—Dora the Explorer (she showed us her Dora backpack) and makeup. Whenever Rachel or I got out lip gloss or anything, she would get SO EXCITED, and she had this little foundation compact she carried everywhere, and whenever she could get it open (it was complicated, ok?) she would smear it on her face and her parents would get all exasperated and wipe it off and close the compact, and the process would start again. Oh my goodness, I feel like I’m writing ridiculously bad run-ons, but I can’t express to you all enough how much I fell in love with this little girl. It was really hard not to kidnap her when we had to leave. REALLY. HARD.

Her parents were so great as well. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree—Fatima (probably mid to late 20’s) is absolutely beautiful, so you can see where Ghita gets her good looks. Both Fatima and Saïd were super sweet and engaging and welcomed us into their family as if we’d been there all along. They both speak great English; I think Saïd might work for some foreign relations branch of the government? And Fatima graduated college with an English degree and is looking for a job doing… something with that. The first night we were there, Saïd had a very earnest conversation with us (mostly him talking and us agreeing) about how many Americans or westerners in general have a very bad image of what it means to be “Muslim” or “Arab,” and how incorrect that image is. He assured us that he didn’t care what religion we did or didn’t practice, that he respected us for how we behave and what we do, and not who we worship. He also explained that the general tenants of Islam are those of generosity, brotherhood, and love, and that there are extremists in every religion that distort the truth to fit their needs. I can certainly tell you that from my experience, this family, along with everyone else I met in Morocco, demonstrated to me that he is right about Islam. If they represent what it means to be “Islamic,” I wish more of the world were Islamic. I have never met people more giving and open and accepting of others. They made me feel so very welcome, and that it was ok for me to be me—and different!—and that that wouldn’t interfere in our relationships. Wow, right? I felt more at home within two days with that family than I ever did in France, for example. I am definitely intrigued and want to spend some more time in Muslim countries now. Before going to Morocco, I was interested, but now I’m hooked. I need to know more. Why are they so awesome, and why doesn’t anyone else seem to realize it? And I definitely want to learn more about Islam now, since it is clearly such an important part of their lives and culture.

We also had the opportunity to eat lunch with a rural family that lives in a village in the Rif Mountains. We had a translator to help us ask questions, and the family was very kind and happy to answer everything we could think of to ask. And OH MAN I almost forgot to rave about the food!! This family made us a wonderful couscous and vegetable dish that was almost impossible to stop eating. Fatima made Rachel and I the best food ever—spaghetti our first night, but à la Morocco of course, and a yummy lamb dish the next day (very traditional and soooo tasty), and then this delicious ham and egg and cumin thing that night. Moroccan food rocks my world. The spices they use are super duper tasty, and they eat using bread and their hands (very similar to what I’ve heard and seen about how food is eaten in India), and the bread is amazingly yummy, too! It’s just all to die for.

Of course, I cannot forget to mention how beautiful Morocco is. On the first day, we stopped in the town of Asilah on the Atlantic Ocean to ride camels (HELL YES it was awesome, but kind of just like riding a really tall horse, but still!) and wander through town. The city itself was beautiful—white buildings, colorful art graffiti (there’s apparently a wall art festival every spring there?)—but the view of the ocean was breathtaking. It was also mind-blowing to think, wow, I’m standing on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean… in Africa. Holy shit, right? Rabat was pretty awesome architecturally speaking, and it was especially cool to see some Roman and Arab ruins there, and then the local market (the medina? I don’t know). The ruins are inhabited by storks, and there’s also a fertility pond there, so clearly, this is where all the babies in the world come from. Which must be why Ghita was so amazing, because her parents got to go right to the source to pick out the cream of the crop, right? I mean, that IS how babies happen, right, a stork delivers them? ;) Just teasing. Anyways. The fertility pond has EELS in it, and you throw in a hardboiled egg, and if the eels eat it, you’re good to go, and if not, you’re out of luck. Cool fertility clinic, in my opinion. And there are a lot of kitties there, because the eels only get the white of the egg, so the guy who sells you the eggs gives the yolk to the cats. Anyways, the ruins themselves were really awesome to see and wander around in (see my pictures, they can describe it better than I can), and at one point, we definitely saw some storks getting it on. Someone must have fed the eels…

Shopping and walking around in the market in Rabat was such a cool experience. Our guide dude totally liked me best (haha, hope none of the other girls read this), and when he wasn’t running around trying to keep track of five girls all with shopping missions, he helped me pick out scarves and bargain with merchants. And I was soooo proud of myself, because I used my French to bargain a few times!! (For those who don’t know, the French colonized Morocco for a bit there, and even though they’re gone now, French is still very widely spoken there, and almost everyone speaks it fluently in the big cities.) I got some very very beautiful scarves for ridiculously cheap prices, as well as a few more trinkets to give as gifts or decorate my spankin’ new abode this summer.

Another really cool place we went was Chefchaouen, a city in the Rif mountains that used to be really secluded—as in, when they rediscovered it in the 1920’s or thereabouts, the people were still speaking medieval Castilian Spanish, because the last group of people to move in there had been medieval Spaniards. I kid you not. Anyways, now it’s a pretty touristy place because it is GORGEOUS—blue and white buildings tumbling down the hillside, a river on one side, rolling hills/mountains on all sides. Go look at more of my pictures of it, it was SO pretty. And I made friends with a doggy there. :)

Something I want to mention about Morocco before I move on to Italy is that it was very lush and green. Which I know is not exactly the common image that comes to mind when one thinks of an African country of the edge of the Sahara Desert. Of course, we were only really in the north and pretty close to the coast most of the time, but that IS where much of the population lives. I just thought I’d blow your minds with that little factoid. It’s SO GREEN. It reminded me of Costa Rica, and made me really miss my family there… but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Alright, there are so many more things I could say about Morocco, but if I keep going, we’ll NEVER get to Spain, so I’d better stop there.

Ok maybe one more thing.

Our group leader was a Peace Corps volunteer who had just finished up her service, and she was from Seattle! She was really awesome. But anyways, talking to her and to other Peace Corps volunteers I met and reading some of the articles the program provided us with really made me think about my future and what I want to do with it. I think often we hear people saying “I want to make a difference, I want to change the world!” and we don’t see a lot of serious action to actually do so. I want to be different; I want to follow through on my desire to change the world, even just a little piece of it, even just one life. And while I’ve focused on the really positive aspects of my trip to Morocco, there is, of course, another side to this beautiful and generous country. That side is one of poverty, and struggles for women’s equality, and a lack of basic knowledge about safety, sanitation, and health in many communities. For example, when we visited the family in the rural village, one girl wanted to know where to throw away a candy wrapper (I think), and they said to just throw it on the ground—and outside on the ground there was garbage everywhere, not really even localized in one area. Some of the garbage was things like nails and pieces of scrap metal, and plastic containers that looked like they may have contained cleaning fluids or car fluids and stuff like that which could be really harmful to the kids or the animals if they play with and ingest them. I know that they probably don’t have access to a garbage pickup system like the one we take for granted in the United States, but at the same time, I was honestly pretty surprised to see some of those things left where they could be a potential health hazard, especially knowing that the nearest hospital or clinic was pretty far away. Anyways, that is only an example of some of the eye-opening things I experienced in Morocco that made me realize that I really DO want to make a difference somewhere, and that I don’t need a degree in medicine or waste management to help people in developing countries take better care of themselves and their surroundings, for example. Or that I don’t need a degree in women’s studies or conflict management to help empower women to stand up for themselves and enjoy their rights to the fullest. Basically, I think I want to do something at some point that involves taking an active part in helping others to help themselves and improve their living conditions. And maybe I won’t do the Peace Corps (continuing health issues are enough to dissuade me from putting myself in that sort of intense and probably grueling sort of situation at this time in my life), or at least not right away, but maybe Fulbright? And maybe I won’t even do this work in a developing country, but what about the people struggling with similar issues in our own backyards? Regardless of how or where or when, I was really inspired—and sobered—by what I saw and experienced in Morocco, and I don’t want to let myself continue living my comfortable and charmed life without giving back some of that love and generosity I know and have experienced in some way or another. I wish that everyone could feel this inspiration and this call at some point in their lives; I’ve been lucky enough to feel this urge multiple times in my life, and each time stronger. The call is getting strong enough now that soon I’m just going to have to buckle down and get my hands dirty, you know? Stop talking, and start doing. I want to finish my degree first, and then… who knows. Off I go!!

On that note, I have to get going. Italy and Spain will have to wait for another post. I love you all. I miss you all. I wish you could be here, doing this all with me. Then again, I don’t wish that—I wish that you are all doing exactly what you need to do to be happy and inspired and as fully alive as is possible, just as I am.

Pura vida, siempre.
Kelsey