The Opposite of Culture Shock

Yesterday was the best day ever.  I went with Piedad to Madridejos, which is a city about 40-ish miles southeast of Toledo, nowhere near Madrid at all.  She actually grew up there.  We went to a get-together with a bunch of her old friends from high school and a few of her cousins.  To be honest, I really didn't want to go at first.  My biggest fear was that I was going to look like a dumb American who wasn't able to comprehend anything or didn't know what to say.  I told Piedad this on the car ride over, and then repeatedly kept checking phrases with her such as "Nice to meet you" or "I'm enjoying myself," to make sure I had them all down.  "Stop worrying!" she told me.  Turns out, I was being a little paranoid.

I keep forgetting Spaniards are just like Italians.  They constantly kiss, drink, eat, and laugh and talk really loud.  I felt right at home.  After I introduced myself to the group and told them a little bit about myself (there were 11 of them), four or five of them said, "Her spanish is almost perfect!"  I'll admit, the first thing that popped into my head after that comment was "these people have already had WAY too much to drink today."  But I think they were being serious!  Unless they were actually being sarcastic, and they very well could have been, because I definitely still suck at picking up on spanish sarcasm.  But I guess there's always the chance that maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit. 

This one guy, Felix, asked me to go to the supermarket with him, Luisa, and Sagrario.

Sidenote:  I learned 11 names in 15 minutes.  Thank you, skill acquired after becoming a YL leader.  Moving on.

On the way, Felix asked me what part of the US I was from.  "Are you near New York?"  I said "Felix yeah!  How did you know that?"  He told me he travels to NYC every year for a couple of months (so that's really the only place he knows of in the US; he had no idea I lived in NY). Oh and he OWNS A HOME THERE.  I was baffled. I asked him if he can communicate well once he's there, and he said that he knows some English but a lot of people who live in Queens speak spanish anyway.  I asked him if he could speak to me in English for a while to give my brain a break but he just smiled and said no.

When we returned with salad items, Cristina took me outside to show me the barnyard animals bumpin' around.  We got to the end of the fence and she pointed to some cows.  "Terneros."  I didn't know what terneros meant so I said, "¡Sí, vacas!"  "No, terneros," she said.  "Vacas are for milk, terneros are for meat."  Then she grinned and suddenly I was kind of afraid of Cristina.

For lunch we had paella!  It was the coolest thing ever.  They literally cooked it in a fire place in a skillet that must have been 2.5 feet in diameter.  Seriously.  People kept asking me if I preferred a plate.  I was so confused.  Of course I prefer a plate.  What am I going to do, eat the paella with my han- ooohhh.  They were asking me because we were going to set the skillet in the middle of the table and eat out of it together.  "No plato, comeré sin un plato!" I said before they could hand me one.  My logic was that if I had a plate, I would be forced to eat the 5 or 6 or 27 scoops of paella they put on it.  If I just ate out of the skillet, there was no telling how much I ate (or didn't eat).  I gave myself a pat on the back for that one.  Besides the huge shrimp and crayfish and crab with the EYEBALLS still on them, the paella was not that scary and actually pretty freaking great.  They also tried force-feeding me something that looked like Kahlua but I explained to them if I had more than three sips of it they'd have to revive me on the paella table.

After lunch we conversed; I slowly began to pick up more of what people were saying around me and it became much easier to get full sentences out without too many grammar mistakes.  One by one, people left, pinching my cheeks as they went out and calling me "preciosa" or "linda."  As the last of us got ready to leave, Felix asked to get a picture with them and the American girl in the middle (I was super pissed at myself for not bringing my camera and I think he sensed it).  He took a few!

Piedad and I drove around Madridejos, stopping occasionally at the many random houses of her cousins to say hello.  I met so many people.  We ended up back at her moms house, which is freaking beautiful, I must say.  All the walls are tiled pretty and the floors are marble or granite.  Also, everyone in Spain owns a bidet (?).  I mean that's cool if you're into that kind of thing.  It just always kind of startles me when I walk into a bathroom and see one.  Anyway.  Piedad went to go take a nap (it was about 8pm at this point) and so I stayed in the living room with abuela.  I wish I didn't.  She was watching bull fighting.  Let me just say a little thing about bull fighting.  I'm pretty sure it's the dumbest, cruelest "sport" ever invented.  People bring their 3-year-old children to watch this crap.  "Come on honey, let's go see an innocent little bull get stabbed to death!"  Like really.  I'll spare you the details, but I'm pretty sure I had more of a culture shock watching that than I did when I first got to Spain.  After the 3rd or 4th fight, the bullfighter was holding two floppy black things and waving them around over his head.  "What is he holding?" I asked abuela.  "If a bullfighter has a really great kill (what does that even mean?), they cut off the bulls ears and give them to him as a trophy!" she said like I should've known.  Of course they would.

When Piedad woke up, abuela asked me if I wanted a snack.  I told her my stomach wasn't really prepared for food after watching five bloody bulls get dragged out of the arena on tv.  Piedad and I headed out to our last stop of the night, which was basically Madridejos's equivalent to Quaker Days in Orchard Park.  For those of you reading this who have no idea what that means, it was basically just a big kick ass farmers market, with music, dancing, and way more vendors selling more things than just food.  One of Piedad's friends who I had met earlier that day, Gregorio, had a tent set up and was selling his hand crafted woven baskets.  They were truly a sight.  He had a life-sized woven donkey as well, complete with ears and a tail.  The rest of the amigos from earlier that day were there too to support Gregorio.  Felix was sure to get a picture with "the American girl and the ass."

Isn't this just great?

I was upset I didn't have any euros on me to buy one of Gregorio's baskets, but as we were leaving, he pulled me aside and gave me a little one for free!  Just as words of thanks had come out of my mouth, I was being pulled in another direction by Justa, another friend, who insisted that I take one of her paintings she had mounted on a plaque.  It was freaking great.  I now have two hand crafted projects by two of the coolest people I've met here so far.  Made in España!

Me and Gregorio!

I was more cultured in 8 hours yesterday than I could ever be by sitting in a classroom listening to my professors.  What a blast.  I'm pretty sure Piedad and I are going back next Sunday for...something.  My brain was pretty tired last night and I didn't exactly pick up what's going down but nodded my head in agreement anyway like I had understood.  The words 'vale,' 'sí,' 'está bien,' and 'bueno' all pretty much mean the same thing here, so if people say something and I don't understand, but I know it doesn't require an answer, I just rotate those.  It's worked every time.  I look like I know what's going on.