Unconscious Incompetence

There was a counselor who came and spoke to us about culture shock the other morning and that was how she described this “honey moon” phase we’re in right now. We are all essentially all being just overwhelming American in a culture very different from our own and we are blissfully unaware of the grammatical errors, cultural faux pas and stares at our white faces and blonde hair. There are so many things we are all trying to adjust to, from finding an entire leg of animal in the cupboard next to the cereal, to freezing in the shower, to the more forward Spanish men, to the lack of a personal bubble. But it all makes for good stories, usually told over a huge meal to recover from the famished feeling we’ve felt all day long.

Anyway, the past few days have been more or less uneventful, though I suppose that’s odd to say as I am in Spain. Our classes have taken lots of paseos through the city, yesterday we walked through Sacramonte, an area where essentially all the house are in caves and is prominently inhabited by the gypsy population of Granada. Most of our walks take us up hills and it’s fabulous to just stand and enjoy the view. I’m registered for a flamenco course so last night our flamenco instructor took us to an incredible flamenco show at a great little theater close to the IES center. It was interesting because the three dancers were three women, a 20, 40 and 60 year old, and extremely talented.

I still haven’t adjusted to the eating schedule (which is such a big deal to me that I probably mention it every time I write, sorry, what can I say, eating is a pretty big deal), so I’m hungry most of the time, but when I do eat I’ve been pretty impressed. My host momma’s momma made flan and told Araceli to make sure “la nina” (that would be me) was sure to try it. It was very interesting, especially since I’m used to my dad’s flan, but it was casi lo mismo, just with a ton of lemon. Then today for lunch we had an incredible Spanish tortilla. My host dad came in to the kitchen just raving about the food and my host mom gave him a smile that I didn’t understand until she told me that he had cooked it. I was very complementary and he was just tickled. During flamenco shows the crowd yells out when they are enjoying the dancing and the music, it keeps them going or something like that. Araceli compared men cooking to the flamenco dancers, the more you complement their cooking, the more prideful they are and the more they tend to cook. Ha.

I know it’s been a bizarre and somewhat scattered post, but I’m exhausted and there’s really too much to see, hear and do to successfully rely it all. But enjoy the picture! It’s the view of the city from my room.
bss (besos….)