Saturday, November 30, 2013

52 signs you're an American in Spain


...because you can take the American out of America, but you can't take the, well, you know...
  1. You have a love/hate relationship with the siesta.  
  2. You're not a fan of dubbing. 
  3. You're really awkward with the double-kiss greeting.  
  4. Your English gets worse by the day. 
  5. You're waiting for Netflix and Pandora to get their you-know-what together and start functioning overseas. 
  6. You curse the lack of toilet paper, paper towels and/or soap in the bathrooms here. 
  7. You've explained countless times that rugby and American football are not the same. 
  8. Your internal meal bell still rings around noon and 6 p.m. 
  9. Cooking with butter reminds you of home.
  10. You've gone to the ethnic aisle to find peanut butter. 
  11. You have introduced said peanut butter to foreign friends. Their response was something along the lines of, "It tastes like peanuts," or my personal favorite, "Um, it's really thick."
  12. You've paid outrageous prices for said peanut butter, ingredients to make tacos or baking supplies.
  13. You wonder why anyone builds living quarters without an oven.
  14. You've corrected a Spaniard's English and then later realized it was actually correct in British English.
  15. You've been teased for your Central American/South American Spanish.
  16. You'll never be able to keep up with Spaniards on the social scene. Going out at 2 a.m. isn't easy. 
  17. You try to adapt your wardrobe to Europe, but on days when life sucks, you put on tennis shoes and your college sweatshirt and ask Europe to cut you some slack.
  18. You brought a college sweatshirt from home. Or four college sweatshirts from home. 
  19. You're the go-to expert on how life in America is/is not like it appears in the movies.
  20. Spaniards think it's weird that you wear socks around the house.
  21. Anywhere within eight or nine hours driving is a totally doable weekend trip. Spaniards don't agree. 
  22. You don't have the heart to tell Spaniards that you don't catch a cold from not wearing shoes in the house/not wearing a scarf/not buttoning your coat. 
  23. It's hard for you to understand that going to the doctor is free. As in, you don't have to pay. At all. No, really, you just go and then leave and keep your money.
  24. You see gas prices here and suddenly $3.50 a gallon seems like a bargain.
  25. You wonder why Europeans prefer hatchbacks over small sedans.
  26. You've had to explain to people back home that Spanish food is not Mexican.
  27. "Spicy" Spanish food doesn't seem remotely spicy to you. 
  28. Sometimes the whiny, entitled American comes out when you can't buy something at 1 a.m. or anytime on a Sunday.
  29. Your friends in America are 24 and married, while your friends in Spain are 30 and still staying out 'til 8 a.m.
  30. You've realized that wine and coffee in Spain are far superior and cheaper than in America. 
  31. You've told a Spaniard which part of the country you're from, and they've related your state/city to something from pop culture.
  32. Or they said, "That's in the north, right?" To which you've responded, "No, it's actually in the southwest/center/complete opposite part of the country."
  33. You've explained that Americans don't wear scary costumes for Halloween, and we instead use the holiday as an excuse to dress like an idiot or a lady of the night.
  34. When you visit the States or have a visitor in Spain, you stock up on food (i.e. Reese's) and cosmetics.
  35. You've realized Americans know nothing about European geography or politics.
  36. You've visited more of Spain than most Spaniards. 
  37. You've lost multiple battles against Spanish bureaucracy and customer service. 
  38. It took you months to stop apologizing to people who run into you on the street.
  39. Old people on park benches in the evening strikes you as the epitome of Spain.
  40. You regret not learning to drive a stick-shift (or you're really glad your parents made you do it). 
  41. You can point out America's flaws, but if a European does it you suddenly get all sensitive. It's like the great U.S. of A is your best friend or your mom. Nobody dogs on your mom.
  42. Sometimes the lack of political correctness in Spain makes you squirm.
  43. The Spanish practice of putting a heater under the table in the living room took some getting used to.
  44. You dearly miss your clothes dryer. 
  45. You'll never stop eating breakfast on the run/ordering coffee to go, even though it's totally un-Spanish. 
  46. You've yet to eat an American-caliber burger in Spain.
  47. You've explained that we don't eat burgers every day.
  48. You feel uncomfortable in McDonald's or Burger King because you feel like everyone there knows you're American and are therefore fulfilling the stereotype. 
  49. You have no good defense for, "That's why Americans are obese."
  50. You wonder why America doesn't have cañas.
  51. Given the crisis, you're thankful for the economic opportunities we have waiting for us in America.
  52. But you're not ready to pursue those opportunities yet because you're floating through your youth in Spain, where life is usually beautiful, sometimes frustrating, sometimes backwards, occasionally tears-inducing, mostly entertaining and always worth it.
Dear fellow countrymen and women, any signs you'd add to the list?





Tuesday, November 19, 2013

On being an American introvert in Spain

After a weekend in a mountain house with 12 Spaniards, this post seems timely...

Spanish is a social culture, which makes it an anomaly of sorts when compared to individual-based America. Spain is all about evening walks on the crowded city-center sidewalks, where old men are dapper in cardigans, slacks and leather shoes. Here, friends go to each other's homes for mid-afternoon coffee and company. Spaniards meet on weekend afternoons to tapear, in which they sip beers and order dishes to be picked over by the group. They talk, they laugh, they kiss hello and sometimes goodbye, too. They thrive on the communal experience, on shared moments together and conversation over long lunches and drink dates. To not be social is to not be Spanish.

I love this picture I took in Avila because it sums up Spanish culture so perfectly. 

Which puts me, an introvert and an American to boot, in a tough spot sometimes. Let me begin this spiel by noting that being introverted and being anti-social are not the same. The latter is a personality disorder, actually. Introverts don't hate people or parties or talking or groups of three or four or five. Like most humans, we enjoy revelry, banter, fun and togetherness, but we reach a point in which we are simply drained by the beauty of it all. We replenish our energy in the most glorious way possible, I think: by being alone. I love the silence and the tranquility of being solo, and quite frankly, I need it.

My need to be alone doesn't necessarily defy American cultural norms. Sure, some of my friends think I'm a weirdo when I am noticeably delighted to be holed up solo, but it's not widely frowned upon. Here in Spain, from what I've gathered, at least, being alone or doing things alone isn't quite as acceptable. There are times I want to eat alone. There are times when I'd rather not have coffee at her house or my house. Because as a teacher, I'm surrounded by people and energy and commotion and chatter and screaming every day. So after work, sometimes I just want to go to my room and let my thoughts fight each other for my attention. There is no better noise to me than deafening silence.

Even so, I try to accept any invitation offered to me as a way to embrace Spanish culture and experience everything I can during my short time here. But you can't fight nature. Sometimes I feel like a gorilla in captivity because like him, I've grown comfortable in an environment that's entirely unnatural for me. But there are times when I bang my head against the glass or mindlessly spin in circles, thus showing there's a part of me that still knows I'm going against the grain here.

The emphasis on relationships and community and living life with people instead of just around them is something I admire about Spanish culture. And I envy the people who can embrace that each and every day. For me, it's a challenge, but I'm making the effort and making friends. So here's to different cultures challenging us, teaching us and changing us.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Stuff I Eat: Yemas de Ávila


The lack of recent posts about my culinary adventures doesn't mean I haven't been trying anything and everything edible (and some things that would be, by most definitions, inedible). Quite the opposite, actually. I've been too busy eating to write about how much I've been eating.



Name: Yemas de Ávila (Yemas de Santa Teresa)

Translation: Avila egg cakes (Saint Teresa egg cakes)

So what is it exactly? It's a pastry typical of the province of Avila. It's egg yolks mixed with a syrup made of sugar, cinnamon, lemon and water. The result is a soft yellow confectionery that I can best describe as a mix between a pastry (because it's soft and sweet) and a candy (because it's small and totally unlike a traditional bread-based pastry).

Where I ate it: Avila, Spain. I popped into a traditional pastry shop (the city is loaded with them) and bought a box. They're gold in food form. I don't say that for their yellow color but rather because I paid 5 euros for a box of 12 tiny yemas.

Before trying it, I was thinking...: "These look like lemon drops, but the fact that 'yolk' is in their name is throwing me off."

Texture: Because I anticipated something resembling lemon drops, I wasn't expecting them to be soft. Needless to say, I was surprised (unpleasantly, at first) to find that yemas are indeed barely solid. The exterior is slightly crispy, but it dissolves on contact with your tongue and gives way to the treat's gloriously gooey innards.

Taste: Given the ingredients (read: lots of sugar), it's very sweet. It tastes like a soft ball of sugary goo with a touch of lemon, all of which is given consistency by the yolk. They're slightly reminiscent of a gum drop, but they're softer and just plain better. I thought I would be able to taste egg in the yemas, but much like the eggs used in any other pastry, the egg-like flavor is completely disguised in the pastry.

Verdict: Heavenly...and way too easy to eat way too many. They're tiny but incredibly sweet. I'm a serious addict to sweets, so I could easily down a few of these at a time. But if you're not a fan of sweets, these golden balls of saintly deliciousness aren't intended for you.

It'd be blasphemous for me not to like something named for Saint Teresa, given she's my patron saint and namesake...I'm not much for blasphemy.




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