Paella & Tortilla

This week, ISA organized a free cooking class at a local restaurant for students interested in learning how to cook traditional Spanish food.  Here are the recipes we learned and pictures of everything we made!

Paella de verduras y marisco (Vegetable and seafood paella)
The most popular seafood Spanish dish, coming from Valencia in the south of Spain.

• Rice (Arroz) - 400 grams
• Tomatoe (Tomate) - 150 grams
• Fish broth (Caldo de pescado) - 750 grams
• Squid (Calamar) - 500 grams
• Crayfish (Cigalas) - 500 grams
• Shrimp (Gamba) - 500 grams
• Salt (Sal) - 1 gram
• Saffron (Azafrán) - 1 gram
• Garlic (Ajo) 1 gram
• Green & red peppers (Judia) - 150 grams
• Oil (caldo)

Preparing the ingredients

Directions

1. Clean the seafood; chop the vegetables. 
2. Heat oil in a paella pan, then fry the shrimp and crayfish for about one minute.  
3. Once they are ready, take them off the heat and put them aside for later.  
4. Using the same oil, add the squid and fry until it is golden in color.  
5. Now, add the tomato and the finely chopped onion, and continue to fry.
6. Add the rice, stirring and sauteing all the ingredients together. 
7. If it is not available, the saffaron can be replaced by a pinch of dye (to make the dish appear red in color).
8. Let paella cook for 10 minutes, adding a pinch of salt.
9. Finally, add the shrimp and crayfish with the rice and let cook for 5 more minutes, until all the broth has evaporated.  

So it's actually just seafood and vegetables and rice all cooked together in oil and with spices...YUM!

Somer, cooking the Pealla

Up close

The final product!

Tortilla de patata Española (Spanish Potato Tortilla)
In my opinion, one of the most basic and common dishes in this part of Spain!

Ingredients:

• Eggs
• 500 grams of potatoes (patatas)
• 100 grams of onion (cebolla
• 1/2 liter of sunflower oil or "soft" oil

Directions

1. Chop the onion and slice the potatoes into thin slices
2. In a pan with hot oil, fry the chopped onion. Once golden, remove from heat and set aside for later.
3. In a pot, boil the potatoes in hot water with lots of oil. I swear, you cannot have enough oil in this dish.
4. Let them cook for about 20 minutes, until they are soft and mushy.  Stir the potatoes and add the onions and a pinch of salt.
5. Strain the potatoes and pour the liquidy mess into a separate bowl
6. Beat the eggs and mix them in a bowl with the cooked potatoes and onions.
7. In a smaller, flatter pan, pour the mix into it so it can fry, like a giant, fat pancake
8. The trick is to flip the tortilla when the bottom has been cooked (see the pictures below)

Basically, it's potatoes and eggs mixed together and fried to make a fat, oily tortilla. 

Thin potato pieces are crucial!

Letting the potatoes cook

Separating the potatoes form the oily water

Frying the tortilla 

Flipping the tortilla onto the plate from the pan

FInished product!

Finally; we ate! Tortilla, paella, and gazpacho! Enjoy!

What If?

Walking home today I happened to look up and see a truck with the letters GUZMAN written across the side.  I stopped for a second, and did a double take.  The prefix "Guz" is not common in Spain.  Nor in America, for that matter. That happens to be the first three letters to my last name, so when I see the letters "Guz," I get excited.

It made me start to think: what if I was from Spain.  What if my ancestors had immigrated to Spain, and not the United States?  (No likely, I know, but hypothetically speaking...) I would speak fluent Spanish, and all my friends would be from Spain.  Everything I am experiencing this year would be, well, normal.

As a Spaniard, would I have any desire to learn English, like so many young people here do? At the age of 21, would I still live at home with my parents in a small 3 bedroom apartment, as most Salmantino students do?

Who knows, who knows...which led me to a moment of reflection: Why am I here, in Spain?

Well, here's my story in a nutshell: around age 16, about the same time I learned the word "Globalization" in Mr. Long's AP World History class my junior year, and when I finally started paying attention in my Spanish class, I decided that someday, I wanted to be fluent in a second language.  I didn't think that American culture was "cool" anymore.  It was too materialistic and isolated, when the rest of the world just seemed so much more interesting and dynamic. Fast forward 5 years later and here I am, I'm doing it; I am learning Spanish and living in Spain.  Why do I want to learn Spanish? I mean, arguably, most of the world speaks English.  According to most Spaniards I have met, all the best movies and music come from America.  When is the last time you said, "geeze, I reallllly want to see that new Spanish/French/Chinese movie that just came out."

Yea...never.

Reasons why I want to become fluent at Spanish:

Ah! I am not really sure, to be quiet honest. It is just something I have always been interested it. Is that reason enough?


All I know is that today, when I was in the elevator coming up to my apartment, a Juanes song started playing on my ipod.  A song that I have probably heard one hundred times; I know the words, more or less.....but today, TODAY, I actually understood what he was saying and the meaning behind the lyrics.

And that, my friends, was THE BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD!!

The fountains on my walk home along Gran Via

Soy una...profesora?

Last week I started my volunteer teaching job at a local school.  For an hour once a week, I am going to spend an hour speaking in English to a class of 15-year-olds Spanish students.  So far, it has been a lot of fun.  FINALLY, I feel like I am "giving back" and doing something meaningful here.

Not that traveling and shopping and going out with friends isn't awesome...because it is. But I have definitely felt like something has been missing in my daily life. Because back in Denver, I taught swim lessons, volunteered downtown, and was an officer on the cross country team. Oh yea, and I was studying for classes.  I was BUSY.

In Salamanca-----well, I don't have that same kind of structured life.  As I've written about before: classes are much easier, there's no club sports, no gym to use, and legally, I can't work here. It's liberating, in a sense. But also scary, having so much free time.Such an Amerian mindset, I suppose!

Wednesday, though, I found something I love doing.

And because of this, I have seen that the world works in strange ways.  What I'm trying to say is, I'm having a good week.

Like last weekend, before leaving to go out for the night, I decide to double-check my Skype before I signed off, just to check to see if, by chance, my sister was on (she never is!). And who was signed on instead? Tina, her close friend, my close friend, whom I hardly ever get to talk to! ¡Que guay! So I called her, and we chatted for 45 minutes about our lives. I love when that happens.

Then on Saturday night, when I wasn't having such a great night, who calls me but my Dad! Just to to say hi,  because he wanted to talk for a few minutes. That hardly ever happens; it made my night!!

And this week, I have been meeting people in Salamanca who go to UVM, in Vermont. Meeting them and talking about home has been such a treat....how they make me miss Church Street, and Maple Syrup, and the Green Mountains!

I know, all these things are very random; teaching English classes; receiving calls from friends and family; making new friends.  But together, they have made for a very good week.  Now if only spring would hurry up and come....

I Survived: Bull Running in Spain

With Lent just a week away, all of Spain has been celebrating carnival.  In cities all over this Catholic country, various sorts of parties and festivals are held in celebration of the upcoming religious holiday. The most famous Carnival parties are probably in Tenerife in the Canary Islands, or in Cádiz in Andalusia, where the parades, partying, and traditions are world famous.  Think of it as comparable to Madri Gras in the United States...and it's what I tried celebrating last week in Venice! Basically these carnivals are happening all over the Catholic world!

Well, I took part in carnival at Ciudad Rodrigo yesterday.  Having purchased a 15 euro bus ticket earlier that week, my friends and I took a 10:30 am bus from Salamanca to Ciudad Rodrigo, about an hour away, close to the Portugal border.  In addition to the lunch that my host mom packed for me, I also brought my camera, water bottle, and a change of clothes.

And, of course, a costume!

Why a costume? For tradition, of course.  This weekend, children have been getting dressed up in crazy costumes, and going out at night, everyone has been in costume.  In fact, elementary and high schools don't have school on Monday and Tuesday!  On Saturday, while trying to buy a costume, my friends had to wait 15 minutes outside the store before we were let in.  THAT is how popular this holiday is.

Which to me is so weird, because in October, Halloween in Salamanca was not celebrated the way it is in the United States, and the only people that really got dressed up are university students, and mostly Americans, at that.  My point is that in terms of dressing up,  Carnival is like the Halloween of Spain!

Can't you tell? I"m a Brazilian dancer

So my friends and I showed up to Ciudad Rodrigo in crazy costumes, ready to see what the fuss was all about.  Roller coaster rides, markets, and food stands were set up in the downtown area, but we found our way to a grassy knoll where we were away from the crowds with a view of the event.  THE RUNNING OF THE BULLS! Around 1:30 pm, 7 bulls were released into a fenced in course and herded around the town into the central arena.

It was the perfect day to spend with friends, soaking in the Spanish sun and letting the day unfold without a care in the world.  The best surprise of my day was unwrapping the triple-decker ham and cheese sandwich my host mom had packed for me, knowing that I would be hungry after an afternoon of running around and goofing off with friends.

The view of the city

Crowds lined up to watch the running 

Bystanders in costumes

Lined up, waiting for the bulls to run by

After the bull running, the crowd slowly moved towards the central arena.  Not willing to pay 15 euro to watch the bulls slowly be slaughtered, I opted to simply wait outside the arena and enjoy the crowds.  It seemed the whole world was dressed up in costume, and it was fun bumping into friends and exchanging stories about who had run.  Most of the guys I am studying with from Salamanca decided to go for it, and it was fun hearing about their bull running adventures.

Trying to catch a glimpse of the bull fight

That evening, much to our surprise, there was another bull running. Of course, not wanting to forfeit adventure, I decided to take a chance and go for it. I left my bags with my friend, Julia, hopped the fence with my friend Somer, and waited in the road for the bulls to run by. Of the 4 bulls that ran by, 3 were anticlimactic.  There were so many people standing around that it wasn't really that dangerous.  The huge animals simply lumbered by, not wanting any trouble.  But when the final bull came charging through, he took a turn up the hill towards our direction---that's when we decided to book it and slide back through the fence to safety!  All I have to show is a bruised ankle.  One student I know had to go to the ambulance after bruising his rubs and chest  trying to get away from a bull.

Late night bull running

Maybe not the most responsible decision we have made; but now we can finally say it: I SURVIVED RUNNING WITH THE BULLS!

A weekend in Italy!

Why northern Italy in February?! Well, I have a friend from working at Watervale (my insane summer job in northern Michigan), who is studying abroad in Florence for the semester. Since my ISA group was taking off for Sevilla for the weekend, a city I have seen twice already, I decided to go and visit Sarah! It was Carnival in Venice, kind of like Mardigras in Louisiana, so we planned to spend Saturday night seeing what all the fuss was about. This is a recap of my weekend!

PISA: Thursday morning I woke up early, grabbed the 4 bocadillos (sandwiches) Montse had prepared for me and stuffed them in my backpack, caught a 6 a.m. train to Madrid (after mistakingly leaving my favorite hat at the ticket counter! Darn), then took the commuter train to the airport, then finally caught a RyanAir flight that brought to Pisa, Italy. Flying into Italy over the Mediterranean Sea,  I was shocked to wake up from my nap and see islands floating in the foggy horizon to my right, and purple mountains out the window to my left.  The landscape was absolutely breathtaking, and I wasn't even off the plane yet! I kept my head glued to the window just staring out until we were in the clouds and about to land.

Thankfully, the Pisa airport is tiny and quite easy to navigate (unlike Madrid!), so I easily caught a 2 euro bus to see the leaning tower of Pisa, a tourist destination that I could not pass up. It was much different than I thought it would be; for some reason, I imagined it to be in a grassy hill, surrounded by fields and Italian landscape, out in the middle of nowhere. Instead, the tower was simply a bus stop within the small city of Pisa, kept within a walled fortress, which is now crowded with vendors selling t-shirts and magnets and knock-off purses.  The tower itself was beautiful, and definitely had a lean to it, but in my opinion, only worth the hour or so I spent there relaxing in the grass... until the Italian security guards kicked me and all the other tourists off the lawn.

See the lean? It's real!

So touristy; I couldn't resist...

After that, I caught another bus to the train station, paid 7 euro for a train to Florence and was on my way.  I got on  what I hoped was the right train and figured that somehow, despite not being able to reach Sarah via cellphone all day, our plans would work out.  I surprisingly stayed calm the whole ride, enjoying the Tuscany landscape out my window, and snacking on a chocolate Kinder bar while listening to my ipod.  Even if I was headed in the wrong direction, I was at least seeing Italy.  (I was surprised to see that in the towns we went through people had their laundry hanging outside to dry; it was at most 40 degrees F outside, and about to snow.  Does nobody in this country own a dryer?! Very different).  About an hour into my ride, her mother called me from Kentucky, explaining that Sarah couldn't reach me without knowing my area code...whoops. Maybe we should have figured that out before I left!  Despite my doubts, the train finally stopped in the Florence train station an hour and half later.  Nobody had even checked my train ticket! Outside the station, I waited for Sarah, admiring at all the Italians running about. They looked quite similar to Spaniards, except a little bit taller and slightly different fashion. And a different language, obviously!

Finally reunited with Sarah, we spent the evening sharing study abroad stories and talking about the upcoming summer, when we will work together again as waitresses at a small resort in Michigan.

Tuscany landscape from the train

FLORENCE:The city of AMAZING FOOD and beautiful Italian men. Or is that all of Italy? No matter; this is the city where I stuffed my face with delicious pasta and rich gelato, without any hesitation or regret.  My first night in Florence, Sarah and 2 friends took me out to Dante's, a local Italian restaurant "across the river," where we were served free wine (since we are students), as much bread and olive oil as we could eat, pasta and pizza, and of course, dessert!

At dinner, I realized that even though I can't speak Italian and the Italians can't speak Spanish, we could still understand one another.  Tipsy off of wine, I engaged the chef in conversation about my studies in Salamanca; I could understand him just enough, and he could make out my Spanish so that we could have a basic conversation. How fun!  Even though most Italians can speak and understand English, I had more fun over the weekend speaking Spanish instead, pretending like I wasn't an American.

The Italian chef who served us free pizza dough! Yum.

The Ponte Vecchio (old bridge) by night

After our grand dinner, the four of us bundled up and made our way back across the river to go out to an Italian club, called "Twice," one of the most insane club experiences of my life. The dance floor was packed full of young people, mostly American study abroad students, and of course, Italian Men.  Inside, it was hot and sticky, the music deafening, and people were bumping and grinding, making it nearly impossible to move. Salamanca definitely has it's nightclubs and discoteca's...but Italy brought it to a whole other level! Needless to say, after about 30 minutes, I was ready to call it a night, tired from my day of traveling.  I was surprised that on our walk home, which only a few blocks away, we were followed by Italian men, and had to slam the apartment door in their face as we went inside. Apparently, creepy men are a common problem for study abroaders in Italy.  Sarah was surprised when I told her that I  almost always walk home by myself in Salamanca, and it' never an issue.

Friday, we slept in and enjoyed a breakfast of coffee and bread from the cafe downstairs.  We spent the day enjoying a HUGE lunch, shopping, and napping.  Outside was freezing cold and snowy, so we avoided being outside for very long.  How nice it was to enjoy the freedom of Sarah's small apartment, shared with 2 other American girls.  Freedom to use a kitchen, leave a mess, not make the bed, speak in English guilt-free; quite the opposite from my Spanish homestay!

Sarah with her pasta dinner

Yummmm; Italian vegetable soup!

Saturday, we were supposed to head up to Venice for Carnival, a weekend of crazy parties where everyone wears fancy masks.  Due to bad weather forecasts, and fear the trains would get snowed in, we decided to cancel our trip and stay in Florence.  Bummed because we still had to pay for our hostel, we made the most of it, sightseeing all day in Florence and reassuring ourselves that it was the more responsible decision. Sarah brought me to the market, where I proceeded to buy a new leather purse, a purple wool scarf, dried fruit, and a wafful+nutella+gelato dessert. Talk about Heaven on Earth...

GELATO: This Italian desert is something I THOUGHT I had experienced before in the states. Boy was I wrong.  I will try to do it justice through words: IT IS THE MOST DELICIOUS FROZEN DESSERT I HAVE EVER TASTED!  Initially mad because the tiny cups cost at least 2 euro, I was skeptical about paying so much for so little.  I mean, if I were in America, a cup that size wouldn't even be sufficient for a toddler-sized dessert!  But as soon as I dipped the little plastic spoon into the chocolatey goo, I soon understood that a little goes a long way. Rich and creamy and melts-in-your-mouth, there is nothing that could ever replace a cup of authentic Italian gelato. I probably had 5 cups in a matter of 3 days; I WISH I HAD SOME RIGHT NOW!

Sarah's apartment is right in the middle of Florence, around the corner from the Duomo, a big old church in the middle of the city, with one of the oldest domes in Europe, and the biggest brick dome in the world. Absolutely beautiful! (And yes Dad, I did take the time to go inside and check it out!). A gorgeous building, to say the least, even if it did create a wind tunnel as we had to walk around it, freezing any part of exposed skin to the icy wind.

VENICE (kind of...): Despite canceling our Venice trip, I planned on catching an early morning train on Sunday to the Venice, take look around, snap a few photos, and hop on a plane and head back to Spain. Unfortunately, due to bad weather and snow, my train was delayed, so I had to get off early and head for the airport without seeing Venice. Does it count that I saw Venice from the sky? It was still beautiful, and much smaller than I imagined it would be. Attached to the mainland by a bridge, it is an island that uses waterways instead of roads...oh how I would have loved to see the frozen rivers in the historical city! 

 Goodbye to the beautiful snowcapped mountains of Italy...

...and back home to the flat, dry landscape of central Spain:

To sum it all up, I LOVED Italy; the food, shopping, and long train rides made for a relaxing weekend.  And, it was so much fun seeing Sarah.  After a long day of traveling, I was relieved to make it back to Salamanca at 11pm Sunday night and head off to classes Monday morning. I'll never forget the rich food, interesting people, and beautiful landscape of northern Italy in mid-February. 

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day!

It's Moments Like This

Last Sunday I took the train from Florence to Venice to catch a flight back to Madrid.  I was assigned a seat arranged in a group of 4, with 2 people facing each other separated by a table in the middle.  The awkward chairs, I have learned, if you are traveling alone. "Oh well," I sighed, as I put my bag in the overhead compartment, took off my jacket and settled in for the two hour train ride to Venice. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, listening to my ipod and working on my Sudoku book while enjoying the snowy Italian landscape out the window.  Across from me sat a girl, about my age, maybe a little bit older, with short, black curly hair and a silver stud in the middle of her bottom lip.  She was wearing a "Champion" hoodie, and traveling alone.

We rode along in silence, saying nothing to each other.  Every so often, though, she would look up at me, and just stare at me; I could feel it.  A few times, I caught her looking, and it made me uncomfortable when we made eye contact.  Really uncomfortable, actually. What was I doing wrong?! I was just sitting there, minding my own business! Who did she think she was?  I considered moving to the dining car to avoid her, but stayed put, not wanting to bring all my stuff with me, and nervous that if I left it, it would be stolen.

About 45 minutes later, the Italian girl put on her jacket and collected her things. "Finally," I thought to myself, "I can have a peaceful, un-awkward train ride by myself!" As she left, without looking at me, or saying anything, she shoved a piece of paper my in my direction and walked away.  Confused, I examined it, and realized that she has made a sketch of me.  It was signed and dated, with "buon viaggio!" written on the back.

I looked up, and an older woman across the aisle smiled at me as I realized that I was so completely wrong about the Italian girl on the train to Venice.  

BRRRrrr

It has been SO COLD HERE this past week. Over the weekend, a Siberian cold front literally froze all of Europe.  It finally feels like winter!

My new roommate arrived a week ago from Huston, Texas. Where it is over 80˚F  all year round. LUCKY GIRL. But that means adjusting to the cold, windy, sometimes sunless days of Salamanca might be an adjustment.

Except that the stores are starting to sell spring clothes...

So before it's too late, I want to write a blog post on WINTER FASHION! I couldn't help but notice the difference in outdoor apparel here compared to Vermont and Colorado. I come from places where people wear boots like Sorrel's, Timberline's and Uggs not necessarily for fashion but for practicality.  Places where ski jackets are essential for surviving the cold windy days, and hats and mittens are worn to protect your extremities from frost bite between walking from house to car to work.

In Salamanca, women also wear boots, but with 3 inch heels and decorated with faux fur. Puffy jackets are worn by most women, paired with a tight belt to go around the waist. Scarves are not only to keep your neck warm, but to look in fashion (one night, as I was saying goodbye to Felix, my host dad, he told me I better go put on a scarf before I leave if I wanted to look "más guapa!").  Long fur jackets are in fashion for all women over the age of 60, and men don't wear any other color than black or brown leather jackets (but they all wear scarves).  I no longer blink an eye when I see boys my age to wearing bright blue or red skinny jeans as they stroll across the plaza, and to rock tights and shorts in the dead of winter is completely normal.

So I have done some shopping.  I own my very own pair of black lace-up leather boots, an oversized, orange, knee length jacket, a huge grey knit scarf, and most recently, I bought my very own pair of pink skinny jeans (I still can't come to terms with shorts in winter). With my new haircut (I got bangs!) I would like to think that I fit right in....but I'm afraid my freckles are a dead giveaway.

But here's what else is a dead giveaway: last week I was shopping at H&M, and I noticed a girl a few feet away wearing a new pair of Tom's shoes, American Eagle jeans, and black North Face fleece matched with her North Face backpack.  Clearly, an American student on study abroad. I wanted to advise her, "It is okay to wear ONE of these things at a time---but all together? Honey, you are most certainly not going to blend it."

To illustrate my point, here are some creepy pictures from the Plaza Mayor:

FUR, so fabulous

See the tourists?

SO very Spanish

See the backpack? Clearly, America

Red jeans..totally normal, non-emo

Not to generalize or streotype....but here's how I have it figured:

• The French are obvious by their fancy (sometimes massive) scarves (girls and boys)
• The Spanish all wear leather jackets, and the girls have long, dark hair with thick bangs
• Germans stand the tallest, and have the most blonde, light colored hair
• Americans all wear name-brand clothes
• British just have the best accents...

Is it weird that I notice all these things? Perhaps.  Having been here for 5+ months, some days I feel like this is my city, and others I still feel like an outsider looking in, analyzing everything I am experiencing and seeing.  At the end of the day, I suppose it doesn't matter what you wear, what you look like, or how you are perceived; what is important is the experience you have and what you take away from it.  

So to my fellow American study-abroaders, proudly wear your North Face backpacks, American Eagle jeans, Patagonia jackets, and Ugg boots (I wear mine all the time!).  Be proud of where you come from.  Just remember: don't be surprised when Spaniards easily pinpoint you as American.  

Full circle: this is WEIRD

A year ago I was sitting in Spanish classes back at DU with my friend Mark, imagining where we would be in a year. We had both chosen to study abroad in Salamanca for the year and couldn't imagine actually living there.

Well *boom* here I am. I am going to meet him in an hour for coffee with our Spanish friends, Alex and Javi.  Then afterwards, I'll come home for dinner, then meet up with friends to watch the Superbowl game at an Irish pub (let's go Patriots!).  It's year later, and I am LOVING it, living it up. Wake up call, though: it's not going to last forever.

This week, I have received two emails from college sophomores asking my opinion on Salamanca as they make their final study abroad decision (I definitely sent out a few of those emails myself my sophomore year).  My sister is trying to decide where to go and if she wants to peruse a second language. Decisions, decisions. Just remember, whatever you end up deciding, you will not regret it.

If you are reading this and considering studying abroad in Spain, feel free to contact me if you have any questions about Salamanca! 

It is just so WERID to me that time has gone by so quickly.

It reminds me of the poem by Robert Frost, "Nothing Gold Can Stay:"

Nature's first green is gold, 

Her hardest hue to hold. 

Her early leafs a flower; 

But only so an hour. 

Then leaf subsides to leaf. 

So Eden sank to grief, 

So dawn goes down to day. 

Nothing gold can stay.

Nothing gold can stay: I have 15 weeks left here. Alright Kelsey, calm down; that's plenty of time, I have to keep reminding myself. Next week I am off to Italy, to visit a Watervale friend, Sarah, who is studying in Florence.  Watervale is the name of the resort we worked at this past summer in northern Michigan.  A place where, 6 months ago, we were waking up every morning at 7:30 a.m. to serve breakfast by 8, and didn't have any days off the whole summer.  EVERY MORNING we were in our white uniforms ready to go.  With each pay check we put away at the local bank, it was hard to imagine what we would possibly be spending our summer savings on a few short months later.

Well, here ya have it! Next trip: Pisa, Florence, and Venice, ITALY.

See you soon, Sarah!