A Weekend of Freedom

With the admonition to not use the gas and 32€ each as a food stipend, my señora left me and my roommate and I to our own devices on Thursday evening. With a quick exchanged glance, it was clear that this one and only rule was to be quickly ignored. Having had enough "typical" central Spanish food, we were ready for pasta and vegetables, vegetables, vegetables. Maybe some more vegetables possibly, if we could work them in. Here it seems that vegetables are best when cooked so far as to lack nutritional content and the product bears no resemblance to its plant origin. (Think purees and overcooked mixed veggies in various sauces.) So naturally salad was number one priority on our menu.

Feeling extremely local &/or independent, we perused the local shops for vegetables, pasta, and of course, large chocolate bars. The perfect to complement to any fresh, delicious meal.

The stoves here are typical European stoves, meaning you have to start the gas and then light it with a match. Of course the knob has no indicator as to what setting you should hold it for lighting, as opposed to "high", the only indicator being the sound of the gas escaping. So I hedged my bets and lit the match, figuring at worst I'd have it all the way up and become disfigured. Couldn't be that bad. It certainly did woosh and burst into large blue flames, but it was much more controllable than the finicky stoves we take camping that actually might combust upon lighting. And it was quite exciting to be cooking our own food, however simple.

After a delicious meal we went out to our favorite local frat - I mean bar. With as much poor quality beer as one can drink for 5€, loud 90s pop, and a high quantity of bodies per unit space, t could easily be confused for a local college fraternity. We met some other Americans (Dartmouth boys visiting from Barcelona), but all in all it was a quiet night.

Friday, we continued to embrace our very American culture. Since we didn't have to speak Spanish for the entire weekend, it also seemed obvious that we shouldn't partake in the culture.
Thus the decision to go to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner that night. I was equal parts embarrassed and tempted by this restaurant choice. Obviously, it didn't seem right to be going to such a clearly American restaurant when I should be spending my remaining three months making the Spanish culture my own... but the temptation of a real, well-cooked hamburger won out. Come on, chipotle pepper salsa and guacamole on a burger? As if I could resist that. (Also, it was nice to have some meat that didn't look exactly like the animal it had just come from.)

On Saturday night, again had dinner at home. This time it wasn't nearly impressive, or healthful for that matter. We got dinner from a cerveceria called 101 Montaditos, which serves mini bocodillos (sandwiches) with about every possible filling you can think of: ham and cheese, ham and tomato, Spanish tortilla, cream cheese and salmon, brie and onion... the list goes on - 1o1 in total - some more normal and some seemingly bizarre, but all delicious as far as I've tried. Okay, so like 10% of the menu. This restaurant is also conveniently located on the bottom floor of the building next door. This meal we complemented with our exciting find of tortilla chips and salsa. Okay, so this might sound so exciting, but considering it took us 3 different major supermarkets to find these items, it really was. I was so shocked when I saw a whole row of different types of tortilla ships on a shelf. [And anyway, you try asking for chips and salsa in Spain. "What, you want sauce and potato chips? What the hell are you eating??"]. Thus our delicious dinner of mixed Hispanic foods.

So we're sitting eating dinner, when suddenly we hear the click of a door opening followed by the doorbell. I'm almost sure that these two noises are supposed to come in the opposite order, as they tend to in the U.S., and both of us just sort of sat there, frozen. "¿Hola?" Obviously it wasn't our señora, who had called earlier to check up on us and tell us she'd be home in the evening, nor was it the landlady who occasionally comes by, her voice distinctively tinged with a Russian accent. So we go into the kitchen, where we find the across the hall neighbor, just coming to "check on us" and make sure we were okay, and didn't need anything, and weren't scared. [Well, no, I wasn't, but now that you just barged in without announcing yourself I might be]. Luckily that seemed to be all she wanted to say, and showed herself to the door. (Before she could realize we were doing something verboten, say, like having more than one light on in the apartment... oops).

We continued the night by going out to Sol, the heart of tapas bars and night clubs. It was even more packed than usual, and even more bizarre-looking than usual, because it's carnaval. Half the people out were dressed in costume. Having no real agenda for the night out, we let ourselves be led by the local promoters, following anyone who promised entrada gratis or a free drink. (The combination of the two being the best). The first place we go turns out to be extremely weird, but we got free pear-flavored drinks out of it. The second had free entry, but we really only used it for the bathroom. It was then that we decided to join a local pub crawl. It was an event based in one of the local hostels and a fellow IES student had a friend visiting and doing this "tour", so we joined on. Being that the leader of the tour was both high and drunk by the time we showed up, we got to reap all the benefits (a free drink at each bar/club we attended) without paying the tour fee. We rounded out the night with churros y purras con chocolate before getting a cab back at 5am.

Needless to say, most of today has been about sleep. Oh, and some homework. [Turns out, if you already get bored reading 40 pages for class in English, Spanish doesn't make it much better.]

Random question: Why can milk be stored on shelves, unrefrigerated until opening here? It seems highly questionable.

Food I'm craving: Actually none. Must be all the salads I finally got to eat over the weekend.